I was walking past the students' food stalls two days ago when I spotted a very interesting sign:

SANDWISH

Are you selling sand that can wish?
A wish made of sand?
Wishing sand?
Okay give me one sandwish
O my sandwish...
I wish I were 19 (so that I can be a stupid teen auditioning for Akademi Fantasia)

Suddenly I came back to reality
Disappointed, I saw the sandwiSH turned out to be a dull sandwiCH

I was perplexed and going nuts. How amusing the seemingly petty error in spelling could be, that it could fool my perception, that it has driven me crazy. Perhaps, the possible answers might be more insane. And these are my students' oral responses when asked about few simple things.

Me: Where are you studying?
Students: colleSH
Me: What is the antonym for 'poor'?
Students: riSH

So what on earth is the letter 'G' doing in 'colleGe'?
So what on earth is the letter 'C' doing in 'riCh'?

Perhaps, the pronunciation error breeds the spelling error in 'sandwiSh'.

So people, waTCH out our mouths and tongues when we want to MEAN things (so that we don't mean the things that we don't want to mean).

Television that we waSH
And clothes that we waTCH?

Thieves that we caSH
And money that we caTCH?

Potatoes that we maTCH
And pictures that we maSH?

A girl who goes to biTCH
And a sex maniac who goes for a beaCH?

Or hoping to be a wiSH
so that you can grant a wiTCH?

Poor me

Labels: cekmi's linguistic fever

Labels: cekmi's candid observation

Labels: cekmi's dear sweethearts

Labels: cekmi's disorienting rumbles

“Making errors while learning English is okay, as long as you learn from your errors.”

That is what I shall tell my students when they regularly make, what they call as, stupid mistakes when speaking or writing in English. It is okay students, I will kindly comfort and motivate them. Errors are inevitably natural. Second language learners are bound to commit many “irresistible” errors. Besides, I constantly remind them with this so-called Cekmi’s happy-learning philosophy: “Don’t be embarrassed, students. Enjoy your errors. Make jokes with them. Laugh at them. Come on, it won’t harm you. It is healthy. Don’t be so serious, baby. Smile. Yes. Like me now. Hmmm. Remember, laughter is the best medicine, right? Okay, except when you are asthmatic.”

Har. Har. Har.

Yes indeed. I always laugh at my students’ errors, well of course warmheartedly, not contemptuously. Their errors have never failed to be the ongoing source of fun, enjoyment and amusement for me as a language teacher. For me, this is one of the “blessings” being a never-get-angry academician – to laugh. Of course, they do entertain me and always put a big gentle smile on my already-cute face, especially when I mark their essays. Usually, people around me will show their are-you-crazy looks when they see me chuckling alone while marking students’ essays.


To illustrate, take a friendly look at these spelling errors in their essay writing, and be ready to be intellectually marveled by their feel-good ridiculousness and eye-catching creativity.

You can guest who the guess is.
You look familir.
I like that restourant.
He is my freind.
They put too much mayonist.
I don’t like that arrangment.
I like riding a bysickle.
The children were tourched.
They are very famouse.
KFC has its own masscord.
They advitise it on TV.
The submittion of our assingment is today.
Sunddenly, I heard a cry.
The wheather changes everyday.
It is becouse of him.
You must be carefull, exspecially on road.
I fell sleeppy.
I want to by that henfon.
They want to atrack children.
I want to prepair for exam.
This is the conclution.
I recomand this food.
The food is very cheep.
They appretiate their customers.
There are tree causes of smoking.
Goverment should take some percaution.
The car goes trought the tunnel.
Students like to realize tenssion.
I saw you went I when to KL.
The traffic light dit not opporate.
Your corporation is highly epriciated.
It happend asspecially on road.
I leave in Gombak.
The bodi is not stabil.
I was thingking of that girl.
It was very dengeres.
I want to compaire and construst two celebrities.
The road is craudate.
It was flood sesson.
I like chiken.
This is the verhical.
There are varius types of cars.
You must cheak you car.
Last but not list, road system.
We always selebrate our anibesary.
Nice to meat you.
I don’t no.
I am week in grammer.
You must imporve your Inglish.

Did I hear someone laughing?

Labels: cekmi's linguistic fever

Labels: cekmi's gracious wishes

Yes, apparently it looks like a Chinese restaurant. But wait a minute, it is so unlike a typical Chinese restaurant in KL. For, quite interestingly, you can see a Malay Pakcik wearing kopiah casually selling cucur udang inside the restaurant while listening to his MP3 player. You can notice the questionable objects and signs behind him, can’t you? There were also some Indians happily selling Indian cuisines, while a Chinese vendor was cooking some hard-to-name Chinese foods. Don’t be too surprised because you can also easily spot a seasoned Indian customer skillfully using chopsticks while enjoying his noodles, another religious Malay Pakcik biting a chicken tandoori religiously, and a Nyonya eating nasi lemak nonchalantly. What a perplexing setting, wasn’t it? Well, at least for an unfortunate KL resident like me, it was a new inspiring picture of society that I could hardly find in the capital city of Malaysia itself, despite being so physically multiracial.

Oh, I was more patriotically aroused when I discovered another interesting restaurant called Fang Hiang. No, it is not in Ipoh, but unexpectedly located in Tanah Merah, Kelantan – the very place near to my very own hometown!

A malay spouse was very busy selling Nasi Berlauk – my ever favourite dish – in front of the restaurant. Malay folks were flocking around the stall waiting patiently for their order. I was having my nasi-berlauk-ayam breakfast when I realized all the Chinese characters and symbols casually hung all over the place inside the restaurant. A Malay-girl waitress took the order, while a Chinese makcik were busily ushering her hungry-looking customers into her restaurant, talking in Kelantanse dialect! A Malay family was enjoying their meals, sharing the table with another Chinese couple. One old Chinese man was reading Sinar Harian – recently-published Malay newspapers for Kelantan and Terengganu. What an unorthodox way for a Chinese veteran to enjoy his lazy morning!

These two restaurants located at two different places strike the most obvious resemblance – they both show the true colors of Malaysia, I mean, some parts of Malaysia. While I was feeling excruciatingly uncomfortable with the unusual labyrinth in these restaurants, all these people were comfortably seated in the restaurants, probably not having the slightest worry of their cultural and religious differences. Oh come on, don’t talk about halal-or-haram issue here. Please people, don’t give me that suspicious look, okay. I would rather view this scenario from an out-of-the-box perspective. For me, these are true Malaysians whose spirits are rarely found in Kuala Lumpur, the city where the government always claims as a multiracial melting pot. Nonetheless, the prevalent reality in KL was quite far from being Malaysian in nature.


Well KL elites, before you claim that you are Malaysian-spirited, or as patriotic as what is being tirelessly commercialized through TV advertisements during Deepa-Raya or GongXi-Raya seasons, take a good look at those typical Malay and Chinese restaurants in KL. Trust me, you would be disappointed as you would find it difficult to look for the suppossedly cultural blend in those restaurants (okay, except for the mushrooming 24-hour mamak restaurants).

When a friend of mine from Sabah came to KL recently, he was a little upset.
“I was surprised when the owner of that restaurant asked me to leave his restaurant,” he complained.
“What happened?” I said.
“He said that I was in a Chinese restaurant.”
“Okay.”
“Yes Cekmi. I don’t understand. Why is it there are no Malays in that restaurant?” He paused for a while, thinking for the answer for his own question. He then continued, “You know what Cekmi. In Sabah, you will see all kinds of people eating in Chinese restaurants. No harm. All people there are the same. You don’t mark that fella as a Chinese, or a Malay, or an Indian. We are all considered Malaysians. No difference.”
I smiled.

Attention tourists, if you would like to see the true colors of Malaysia, do visit the outer circles of Malaysia – Perak, Kelantan and Sabah - and do enjoy the beautiful kaleidoscopic atmosphere and the warmth of unprejudiced Malaysians. That’s the spirit of our 50-year old Malaysia.

Go Go Go, Visit Malaysia 2007!

Labels: cekmi's candid observation

Labels: cekmi's disorienting rumbles

When I need some inspiration, I will always find ways to see Jimi, my soul-friend in Kampar, Perak. Driving a car or riding a bus to his place is such a pleasurable experience, thinking ahead of the wonderful moments I would share with Jimi, his warm-hearted parents, his ever-funny sister and his happening Ipoh friends. I remember going to those unforgettable greenery places, alive nightspots, and great eating places. But I am most enchanted by the old nostalgic buildings lining up magnificently along the road in the countryside. What a therapeutic sight!

My friends will always wonder why on earth that I adore Ipoh so much. I understand, Ipoh is not as attention-grabbing as KL. And we can hardly find sophisticated skyscrapers here. But, I always think of Perak, particularly Kampar and Ipoh, as my personal sanctuary. I somehow feel emotionally attached to these places. Looking at those buildings, I could feel the mysterious sweetness of pain, sorrow and melancholy - as if they were speaking to me and telling great stories in a language only a hopelessly-romantic person like me could understand. Yes, I always feel like I want to belong here. It’s irresistible. I owe all these feelings to Jimi. Well, he could be the reason for all this wonderful feeling association.

“Cekmi, I am so scared with your concept of sweet melancholy,” one of my doctor friends said to me not long ago. I asked him, “Why? Am I sick?”
“No, you are not. But, do you know that only a poet can feel what you feel now? And for your information Cekmi, most of great poets in the history committed suicide.”

Thanks for the kind reminder, my dear friend.

Labels: cekmi's romantic obsession

Labels: cekmi's disorienting rumbles