Author's Talk Schedule

Past Talks:

• 6th Aug 2006
• MPH 1 Utama
• 3.30pm - 4.30pm
  

• 9th Sept 2006
• MPH Alpha Angle
• 3pm - 4pm
  

• 23rd Sept 2006
• MPH Midvalley
• 3pm - 4pm

Upcoming Talks:

• 30th Sept 2006
• Popular IKANO
• 3.30pm - 4.30pm

• 14th Oct 2006
• MPH 1 Utama
• 4pm - 5.30pm
• Jamilah will share her thoughts on “Distribution” from an author’s point of view. Talk will be specifically tailored for new and aspiring authors.

• 4th Nov 2006
• Popular IOI Puchong
• 4pm - 5.30pm

About Jamilah Samian

Jamilah Samian began her professional career in a multinational organisation, Sarawak Shell Berhad, Lutong, in the Information Technology sector. Following that, she became a successful home-based entrepreneur providing translation and copywriting services to many public relations and advertising firms and other private organisations.

While living in the Middle-East, Jamilah began her journalism career and has since written for The New Straits Times (Malaysia), Destinations (Shell global family magazine), The Oman Economic Review, ParenThink and other print and electronic publications within and outside Malaysia.

For several years, she used to be a volunteer with the Global Outpost Network, which was an information resource and support centre catering for Shell expatriate families. The Outpost team itself comprised of spouses from various nationalities across the world.

Jamilah is an active member of the MIM (Malaysian Institute of Management) Toastmasters International and has addressed audiences at organisations including SWAN (Shell Women's Aspiration Network), TOYOTA, UTAR and Malaysian Institute of Management.

Jamilah holds a Bachelor of Science in Computer Science & Mathematics from Indiana State University (USA), Bachelor of Psychology from Upper Iowa University (USA) and Diploma in Journalism (Distinction) from the London School of Journalism (UK).

Jamilah now writes fulltime.

Career Workshops with a Difference

Picture yourself at the age of 75. Compare the image with the person you are now and think of what it takes to get there. Such are the thought-provoking challenges put to participants of the career workshops for partners in the move held in Muscat, Oman, recently.

That many an expatriate partner gives up his or her career to preserve the family unit when a Shell employee is given an overseas posting is a fact which is increasingly gaining prominence in the international circuit.

“Spouses contribute greatly to the success of an employee’s assignment,” says Kathleen van der Wilk Carlton, Manager of the Spouse Employment Center in The Hague. “Shell recognizes the fact that when you move an expatriate, you move a family.”

How did the workshops come about?

“When we first started the Spouse Employment Center, we thought there were sufficient companies on the external market offering careers courses, at least in the major base countries,” explains Kathleen. “Over time, we realized that they did not meet the special needs of the expatriate spouse and that only a handful of spouses followed such courses. By contrast, our customer survey confirmed that there was a need to complement our individual services and so we decided to develop courses ourselves.”

Cooperation between MINCO and SEC

“At the same time, Mies Grijns, special projects member for MINCO (Muscat Information Network Center Oman), was convinced that there was a need for careers courses in Oman and her enthusiasm largely contributed to gaining support for us to run them locally.”

The successful organization of the courses marked a first for MINCO which had, until then, only catered for MINCO members. “Mies, Sabine Vahrenkamp and others in MINCO worked very hard to make the whole thing run smoothly,” says Kathleen.

What makes the workshops different?

Fifty-five spouses from almost ten nationalities and a wide range of professional backgrounds took part. Each of the five modules had to be run two or three times over four days because of the huge interest. There was also an opportunity for participants to speak individually with the visiting trainers. “Sharing experiences and networking with other spouses who face the same challenges were very stimulating and made me realize I wasn’t alone in my aspirations,” said Sharinaz Shafie from Kuala Lumpur, who attended the course.

Apart from enabling participants to have a clearer picture of themselves in career terms, the workshops gave them the opportunity to assess their priorities within their lives on the move. Participants learned how to manage their careers, actively search for a job in a new area and improve their CV writing and interview skills. In short, the workshops helped them feel confident enough to make a change in their current lifestyle – if and when they feel ready to do so – and gave them the tools to do so.

One question that immediately pops into mind, when faced with the prospect of relocating is, “What’s in it for me?”

“Plenty,” says Claire Ford, one of the workshop trainers. “Partners can develop a broader perspective of their own culture and become competent at managing change for themselves and for others, whether they enjoy the experience or not.”

And what kind of career is most suited for a woman on the move?

“Any opportunity that allows them flexibility, keeps them interested and motivated, stretches them mentally and gives them a sense of achievement would fit the bill perfectly.”

With constraints posed by the internal labour market, there is a widespread impression that it is extremely difficult for an expatriate spouse to work in Oman. “The truth is,” says Mies Grijns, “there is so much opportunity to develop oneself, especially in terms of education.” Sabine, for instance, discovered “a number of spouses working here. There are also lots of courses and colleges available for further studies.”

Published in Destinations, 2001

Mesmerised by Mulu

Mention Borneo and some may start conjuring images of headhunters lurking in the wild. But that was many years ago and the island is now celebrated for a different reason. Within its shores lies a rare treasure millions of years old -- the Mulu caves.

From Miri, you can reach Mulu either by air, which will take only about 30 minutes, or via an eight-hour boat ride.

I find the second option more adventurous but neither practical nor appealing as I have children in tow.

Our guide met us at the Mulu airstrip. Our group of ten, comprising seven Malaysians and three Britons, then proceeded to the Royal Mulu Resort. The hotel itself was a pleasant surprise. Built on wooden stilts, the sprawling complex blended with the surrounding verdant rainforest. Its design, based on the longhouses, lent it a rustic charm.

The initial trek to the Mulu Caves began along a plank walkway about a metre high. Mulu National Park, in which the caves nestle, is a gem of a forest. Thousands of species of ferns, fungi, mosses and flowering plants snuggle among each other. Creepers dangle from the boughs of towering trees. Tree tops conspire to provide a canopy that shelter visitors from the afternoon heat.

I was mesmerised by the shimmering rays of lights that poked through the dense canopy to reach and nurture the thriving flora on the forest floor. Small wonder then, that Unesco inscribed the park as a World Heritage Site on November 27, 2000 citing it as an area of exceptional natural beauty.

Forty-five minutes on, the entrance to Lang Cave greeted us. Electric lights plus a cement pathway joined intermittently by wooden steps, with firm handrails mounted against inclines, ensured we didn’t lose our way. Stalactites and stalagmites glinted with moisture.

The whole interior was enveloped in darkness. I had read about how spectacular the rock formations in Lang Caves were but in reality, they were far more magnificent. Some of the shapes and patterns resembled creatures and scenes of the rainforest itself. Razor-sharp daggers stared down from the ceiling. It was as if someone had brought in a colossal piece of ivory and sculpted a priceless masterpiece that took millions of years to complete.

A short distance away was Deer Cave, the largest cave passage known to man and home to millions of bats. Long ago, hordes of deer used to roam within its walls to seek shelter and lick salt.

“Talk if you must,” said the guide before we stepped in, “but keep your voices low.” Loud noises may distress the bats. I stood on the cement walkway, dwarfed by its sheer magnitude. Caverns lunge into nothingness. The cave is said to be large enough to contain 20 wide-bodied Boeing 747s parked side by side.

I hadn’t gone far when an acrid smell permeated the air. “Keep your hands off the handrails,” said the guide. They are covered with bat guano. Besides, there are hordes of hairy earwigs, which love greasy stuff. It’s difficult to get them off once they cling to your skin. I shone my torchlight around. Heaps of bat guano surrounded us.

The roosting bats, however, weren’t visible in the dimly lit area. Because of the bat excreta, the whole area was teeming with creepy-crawlies like cockroaches, beetles and flies that feed on it!

At 6pm, we adjourned to the bat observatory near the mouth of the cave to witness the climax of the evening: migration of the bats into the jungle to forage for food.

It wasn’t long before the first batch appeared. One minute they were hovering near the mouth of the cave. The next, they had transformed into a black wavy cloud and had snaked out of view.

Dusk began to descend as we trudged back to our lodgings. We had covered more than six kilometres by foot. Syarif, 7, began to complain of exhaustion. I had unwittingly tied my shoelaces a trifle too tight when we set off and now had a pair of blistery feet to reckon with. Carrying a seven-year-old was out of the question.

“I’ll share with you a little secret,” I whispered. “Lean on me and hold my hand tight. My energy will flow into you.” It worked. A few metres ahead, five-year-old Siraj, the youngest member of the group, was dozing on his father’s shoulder.

The next morning we cruised along the Melinau River. It was shallow in some parts and at times, the guide’s partner had to nudge the boat with a long, sturdy stick. We visited a Penan settlement before proceeding to a small quay. We ascended the winding steps that flanked the limestone cliff to reach the Wind Cave. The breeze at the entrance was invigorating.

Inside lies the King’s Chamber, an area which contains stalactities and stalagmites. We negotiated the slippery planks up a steep incline more than 200 metres high that led to Clearwater Cave. Within the limestone cavern, a river meanders. The sound of rolling water was like music to the ears.

With more than 100km explored so far, the cave is easily the longest in Southeast Asia. A small pool at the entrance welcomes visitors who desire a refreshing dip. If the adventurous streak hits you while in Mulu and you are not satisfied with just seeing the caves, the National Park Department has identified a number of sites suitable for adventure caving trips that will put your mental and physical fitness to the test.

Published in Life & Times, New Straits Times on 25 October 2003

On the Road to Mecca

Travelling almost 6,000km overland through sometimes harsh desert terrain with five children in tow may not be everybody’s idea of a holiday. But, for six-month pregnant Jamilah Samian, this one came with a bonus. For their destination was the holy city of Mecca. Today, on the eve of Hari Raya Haji, she shares with us the excitement and reverence of the 15-day trip.

And so it was decided. We would travel by land from Muscat, Oman, to Mecca to perform the umrah (minor pilgrimage).

We had first contemplated making the journey when my husband Fakhri was offered a cross-posting in a multinational company in Muscat over a year ago.

Although both of us had performed the hajj back in 1988, it had been our dream ever since to revisit the holy city with the children.

Barely two months after we set foot in the Gulf, and hardly had we settled down, the question was posed to us by my husband’s Omani colleague Jumea Al-Harthy and his wife, Awatif: Would we like to join their family on a land trip to Mecca in the coming summer?

It was only our second meeting with them and the offer took us completely by surprise. Although we had been reassured on how smooth the road leading to Mecca was, the fact remained that vast expanses of land through which the road ran are actually uninhabited.

Travelling in summer would pose its own perils, too. We would have to deal with soaring temperatures running to 50C in unfriendly terrain.

The international driving license I possessed was not recognised in Oman. Besides, women are not allowed to drive in Saudi Arabia. This meant that Fakhri would have to be the sole driver. Stops are few and far between and if we ran into trouble, getting assistance would be no easy task.

I would also be quite heavily pregnant by the time we made the journey.

Needless to say, we were most concerned about the safety aspects. Would we be able to endure the grueling journey?

A few weeks passed. But the more we thought about the matter, the more convinced we were that this was indeed a once-in-a-lifetime chance. The fact that Jumea had made the trip on two previous occassions with his colleagues made us confident.

Almost immediately, the frenzy of getting things done started. Ten years ago, when we wanted to perform the Hajj, all we did was register with the Lembaga Urusan dan Tabung Haji in Kuala Lumpur, settle the payment and attend some familiarization courses.

Now it was a totally different story. We had to apply for visas for three different countries, namely the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia and Bahrain.

Although Saudi Arabia is next to Oman, there is no road system linking the two countries and we would have to use the coastal road, passing through the UAE before reaching Saudi Arabia.

Oh, the bureaucracy involved! Each country had its own visa application requirements. Saudi Arabia’s visa application form had to be translated to Arabic, Bahrain’s must be type-written. It took hours merely to sort out these essentials, not to mention the many trips to the respective embassies.

A month before the agreed departure date, the four of us adults sat down and drew a detailed plan and compiled a list of provisions. We had wanted to travel light yet essentials had to include cooking utensils, medical supplies, collapsible tent, potable water and dry food. And oh, a roof carrier, battery cable jumper, towing wire rope and road maps.

D-Day came. July 30, 1998. At 5am our home in Dhiab Street was a bustle of activity. The kids, all hyped up, were easily aroused from sleep. The sun was shining brightly as we set off after a brief prayer.

It was a smooth ride and we reached the UAE checkpoint at Buraimi about three hours later. Processing proved rather brisk and it took merely 15 minutes to clear immigration.

A quick snack followed before we pressed on towards Sila, 400km away, the UAE exit checkpoint before stepping on Saudi soil. By now, the kids were keeping themselves entertained with the board games and toys they had brought along.

Although the vehicle’s air-conditioning system was working well, we had no illusions about the soaring temperature outside as could be seen by the mirages that loomed endlessly ahead of us. By then, we were going at an average speed of 140km/hr.

On reaching Sila, we spotted a decent restaurant to have our lunch. The scorching sun relentlessly hit our faces as we dashed from the vehicles to the booked family room. It was time to feast on the fare we had brought from home.

It is common for restaurants in this region to have separate family rooms as womenfolk here normally adorn veils that would make it difficult to enjoy meals in public.

Laughter filled the room as someone remarked that the silence was a dead giveaway to how famished we were!

I was buoyed by a great feeling of camaraderie as we took our seats to share the rendang and nasi lemak and taste the Swahili pilau rice that our Omani companions had prepared.

By the time we arrived at the Saudi Arabian checkpoint, there were hordes of vehicles ahead. As the men went to get the passports stamped, we downed plenty of cold drinks which provided some respite against the blazing sun.

The waiting game ended a good two hours later, but everyone was in high spirits despite being drenched in sweat as we took off again.

I presume most of us have a stereotype idea of how deserts look like. I, for one, had been told that there was practically “nothing of interest there”.

This was not altogether true as deserts differ. While some offer gentle, wavy slopes of sand dunes, others have great stony structures in shades of green, black and orange.

Natural vegetation is sparse, but the efforts of some countries to green the environment, notably Oman, are commendable.

We finally descended upon Al-Hafof, the next rendezvous, at about 8pm. Night had set in. Fortunately, we successfully secured two apartments at fairly reasonable rates. We had clocked 1,100km in 14 hours on the first day.

The experience had taught us one valuable lesson: To arrive at an unfamiliar destination after dark is not a very wise thing to do. Not all the streets were lit and road signs were difficult to decipher. We were determined to reach Medina before dusk the next day, so we set off shortly after daybreak.

Soon, the greenery and edifices of Al-Hafof tapered off and gave way to a seemingly endless sea of sand. No shelter was to be seen for miles. A tingle of fear crept up and I quietly prayed.

At a certain stretch of the highway, road signs appeared cautioning motorists to beware of camels crossing. Sure enough, herds of them began to appear some distance away. We had a close encounter with one animal when it decided to cross the path with our very eyes with a Bedouin perched on top. My, wasn’t it huge!

Both drivers were exhausted. The roasting heat was too much to endure. I was dozing off when Fakhri said he was sleepy. Wedged between the driver’s seat and mine was a mini-freezer. I groped for a bottle of cold water to splash on my husband’s face.

Soon, we found ourselves crossing the 10km mark towards Medina. The children cheered as the audio system reverberated with a song by popular Malaysian nasyid group Raihan.

There was a sudden surge of adrenalin as the countdown began. The first roundabout at Medina came into full view shortly. Minutes later, a service station that resembled a space station caught our attention. Before us, the minarets of the Prophet’s Mosque rose majestically in awesome grandeur.

The next three days saw us courting the mosque which was a mere two-minute walk from our modest two-bedroom quarters. The lofty ceilings and cool marble floors evoked an aura of peace and tranquility as we stood before the Prophet’s burial chamber.

On the second day, we rented a bus and called on the more significant historical grounds.

The moment came soon to bid farewell as we still had to pursue our final destination. The route to Mecca, 400km away, didn’t seem too daunting in comparison to the few thousand kilometres we had conquered.

But first, we had to dorn the special umrah garb at a small town called Bir Ali, 350km from Mecca. As the men took their shower, the rest of us took stock of the mosque which was equipped with 1,000 bathrooms.

It was difficult to keep our emotions in check as we entered the gates of the holy city. This was the moment we had waited for the last two months; nay, the past ten years.

Joy overwhelmed us as we soaked in the sights and smells. Despite it being an off-peak season, the narrow avenues of Mecca were choking with traffic. Our lodgings found, we got down to performing the umrah that very afternoon.

The kids were visibly struck with awe as they gazed at the magnificent Kaabah draped in dark green silk. An ambience of reverence prevailed as we purposefully strode down the steps towards it. It was quite unlike the hajj season when throngs of pilgrims would flock the site. Still, there was quite a crowd.

We were initially concerned that the presence of the children might hamper the smooth course of the pilgrimage but our fears proved unfounded. They were cooperative, having been briefed on the significance of all the deeds we had to accomplish.

Before we knew it, the moment came to pack and head for home. Our hearts were heavy as we said our final goodbyes. We did not envision making the passage again in the near future, and so took the opportunity to visit some other metropolis on our way home,including the sprawling city of Riyadh.

Here, we brought the kids to the zoo before heading for Dammam’s family amusement park. This was followed by the sovereign island of Bahrain.

Fifteen days from the day we started our adventure, we again crossed the border of Oman. We had trekked almost 6,000km and despite the overwhelming weariness, elation filled everyone as we finally reached home. We did it!

Published in Life & Times, New Straits Times

Ramadan in Oman

In Oman, Malaysian Muslims welcome Ramadan in a nation where more than half a million expats seek a living and cars are given away every day of the holy month in raffle draws, says Jamilah Samian.

On a rugged and hilly terrain in Muscat, Oman, several Acacia tortilis (fodder trees in desert sands) stand along the paved street leading to a double-storey, semi-detached residence that has been home to Sharinaz Shafie and her family for almost four years.

Petunia blossoms grace several houses in the quiet neighbourhood and a gentle breeze blows – signs that the hot and humid autumn is finally giving way to a cool and pleasant winter that normally lasts until April.

“This is the best thing about Ramadan here,” says Sharinaz. “Fasting in winter means shorter hours as the sun sets at about 6pm.” The fact that she is a homemaker means she has time to prepare home-cooked delicacies.

“In Kuala Lumpur, breaking fast was often a rushed affair. Buka puasa right in the middle of a traffic jam was normal for me,” says the former stocks analyst.

The beauty about being in Oman during Ramadan is that the best dates in the world are readily available. There are more than 40 kinds grown here. Also, the Arabic sweet baklava is unique to this part of the world. “It is no substitute for our traditional kuih but nice and different in its own way,” says Norazizah Ahmad, a compliance analyst.

“It’s our third Ramadan here,” says Norazizah’s husband Ismail Said, a human resource strategy planning & projects manager. “I look forward to local invites as it is an opportunity to learn more about local customs and cultures. I find it enriching thus far.”

In the multinational organization where both Norazizah and Ismail are employed, work this month stops officially at 1pm and non-Muslims have to delay lunch hour until 2pm.

At the onset of Ramadan, the company requests everyone to refrain from eating in public places. There are also designated areas in the office for them to have their morning coffee and afternoon tea.

New arrivals like Sharifah Naziha Syed Jamalil Idrus, an English teacher for the Royal Oman Paramedics who moved to Muscat several months ago, however, are still making adjustments. “As much as I look forward to this new experience, nothing beats the feeling of breaking fast and going to the mosque for tarawih prayers with the family back home,” she says. “And my, do I miss Malaysian food expecially the hot steaming nasi lemak and rendang, wrapped in banana leaves!”

The good news is that, with the recent opening of Holiday Villa, a Malaysian owned hotel cum restaurant in Muscat, Malaysians now have a choice of dining out on Malaysian cuisine. The establishment even has an authentic ais kacang machine to boot.

Traditionally, Malaysian and Bruneian Muslims team up and take turns to play host in a different house each week with every family contributing a dish. This helps generate a sense of fellowship.

There are others like Ahmad Fakhri Hamzah, a human resource executive, who had the priviledge of experiencing Ramadan in the interior where the oil fields are. “Just before maghrib, dates and laban (buttermilk) will be laid on the mat in an open area beside the mosque for us to break fast,” he said. “After prayers, there will be a grand spread with briyani, fresh mutton and even camel meat and sweetmeats. An all-time favourite dessert is Umm Ali, a milky and creamy bread-like pudding sprinkled with nuts and raisins.

“The dining hall in the oil field complex is open till the wee hours of the morning, offering four different menus each evening.”

His family also did something different last year. “We had many non-Muslim friends in the expatriate community who shared their fears and concerns following the September 11 tragedy. They were concerned about the hostilities developing between Muslims and non-Muslims in the region.”

Then he found about the Dubai government’s efforts to reach out to non-Muslims in the holy month. “That prompted us to invite some non-Muslims for dinner, beginning with our children’s teachers, most of whom were British. It was a great learning experience for everyone in the family.”

“It’s a bit unconventional as we normally keep Ramadan to ourselves but we thought, if we could make a tiny difference for the sake of world peace, why not? We also invited some Muslims from other parts of the world including Syrians, Indonesians, Nigerians and, of course, Omanis for iftar (breaking of fast) to appreciate the oneness of Islam, although they all come from different schools of thought, which is part of the beauty of Islam.”

Published in Life & Times, New Straits Times, November 12, 2002

Savouring Bangkok

Bargains galore. Exotic sights and food. The tuk-tuk. Jamilah Samian experienced these and more during her trip to Bangkok.

As the brass band across the field at Sanam Luang, Bangkok played the national anthem, everyone stood erect. Many had enjoyed the candle-lit celebration, held to commemorate King Bhumibol Adulyadej’s birthday the day before.

At 76, the King is very much revered and adored by his subjects as he often goes out of his way to see that his people’s needs are met. Last year, for instance, he expressed his dismay about the illicit drug trade in his birthday address. Still, these undercurrents are not obvious in Sanam Luang, a big field across the Grand Palace. The band’s performance ended and I continued with my stroll, browsing through the items offered by the street vendors.

The peddler before me rattled off a string of words in Thai. I presumed she was telling me the value of the socks she was trying to sell. At the prompt of “How much?” she whipped out a calculator, keyed in the numbers and held it up for me to see.

By eight, the streets across the Grand Palace were thick with activity. The shophouses adjacent to Na Phra Lan Post-Office are reminiscent of those of the Peranakan in Malacca. A few metres away in a wooden seat, a homeless man slept, oblivious to the din, his pillow a plastic bag full of his worldly belongings.

Further up, two elderly women took their time feeding a flock of ravenous pigeons. Nearby, a barber was trimming a customer’s overgrown beard in a makeshift tent. A monk walked past. The Thais are predominantly Buddhist and the faith is deeply ingrained in their lives. The taxi driver who drove me to Sanam Luang had a miniature Buddha anchored on the dashboard.

My earliest recollections of Thailand were of boats laden with colorful fresh produce at the floating market along the river Chao Phraya. It was the front cover of The Asia Magazine that I had read years ago. Along Phra Chan Road in Bangkok, numerous street vendors put up amulets for sale. A soprano’s high-pitched voice belted out what sounded like Thai opera from an outlet selling traditional medicines.

I had very much wanted to see the Grand Palace. Located next to Wat Phra Keow, this magnificent royal compound is where important religious and royal ceremonies are conducted. Alas, it’s not available for public viewing due to a ceremony taking place in conjunction with the King’s birthday.

By mid-morning, the palace grounds were full of tourists and their guards. Should I take a ride down the Chao Phraya?

Shady trees and cobbled pedestrian walkways coupled with a slight breeze made the hike to Pra Chan Pier a pleasant one. I paid 20 baht and boarded the waiting boat. A ride across the river and back would be the acid test but barely ten minutes later, I was back at the pier – the waters were too choppy to my liking. I would have to abandon romantic plans of cruising down the river for a more practical one.

My partner and I opted instead for a tuk-tuk, which is essentially a motorised, battery-operated open-air trishaw. Never having ridden one before, the two of us suddenly realised how vulnerable we were as the driver went full throttle and whizzed through the heavy traffic.

I clung on as we zig-zagged and dodged buses, vans and cars. After ten minutes, I began to relax and reassured myself that the driver knew what he was doing. Well, he did drop us off ten minutes earlier than scheduled at the Chatuchak Weekend Market, one of the largest open-air flea markets in the world. We joined the crowd descending upon the market, which is touted as a must-see tourist spot.

The sprawling complex is partitioned into many sections, joined together by narrow alleyways. Section One sells images of the Buddha while another section specialises in pets from chameleons to tortoises in terrariums to rabbits and birds. A long segment is reserved for cock-fighting enthusiasts. There was even a busker, a harmonica between his lips and guitar in hand, with a piece of cloth spread out on the ground for generous contributors to place their money in.

Another section offered home furnishings and even door-to-door packaging and delivery services. A few metres away were agricultural products among which were, of course, orchids. At lunch time, we headed for the Saman Islamic Restaurant, located near the big clock that stood out at the centre of the market. I ordered iced longan and chicken briyani with sizzling hot tomyam plus some sambal petai. The tomyam, a fiery brew with lots of cili padi, was just what I was looking for.

Thai women struck me as very gentle, speaking in a melodious lilting tone, like the waitress attending to me. On the way back to my lodging, I cringed at the sight of an old Caucasian man walking hand-in-hand with a scantily clad young Thai girl who couldn’t be more than twenty years old. It reminded me of Patpong, the red-light district, despite the Government’s efforts to change its image.

There are some things I will never understand.

Published in Life & Times, New Straits Times

The Bountiful Souk of Arabia

In fifteen years, Jamilah Samian has moved from systems analyst to copywriter / translator to freelance writer. She now lives in Muscat, Oman with her husband and six children.

Men clad in white, flowing dishdashas sit on long benches or squat on the paved sidewalk, seemingly oblivious to passers-by. They bask in the mild breeze, which wafts down the long, sweeping Mutrah corniche. The setting sun glimmers on the horizon, sending rays of light in magenta, orange and turquoise that reflect over undulating, soft ripples which caress the shallow sands.

Several metres beyond the gentle waves stands an imposing concrete gateway bereft of ostentation. There is little to suggest the architectural treasures that lie ahead. Yet, one step aside is sufficient to tell that this is no ordinary shopping bazaar.

Welcome to the Mutrah souk, a traditional Omani market and reputedly one of the best of its kind in Arabia.

It is Mutrah’s main alley that has earned the souk its fame. Simple geometric patterns in bright hues of red, yellow, blue and black weave their way overhead, forming a canopy which exudes an aura of majestic grandeur upon the mundane pursuits below. Ornately carved lights hang delicately from the ceiling. Surely, this is the most exquisite feature of the souk.

The sweet aroma of frankincense welcomes every newcomer into the souk. Here, as in other parts of Oman, business gains greater momentum as dusk starts to fall. Soaring summer temperatures, coupled with high humidity, discourage locals and foreigners from roaming beyond the comforts of their abode during the daytime. It is simply cooler to shop at night.

The atmosphere resounds with light-hearted banter. An air of warm dignity abounds as each trader endeavours to coax customers into their shop. Further down the alley, a solitary lady shrouded in black sits patiently, peddling her wares of perfumes and traditional concoctions. She is a picture of cool composure, pitting her entrepreneurial skills against the more established outlets. Nearby, an energetic youth performs the onerous task of pulling a sturdy cart, skilfully dodging oncoming traffic.

The Mutrah souk, which nestles about three kilometres northwest of Muscat, offers an amazing array of goods, both modern and antique. This, arguably, is the most awesome feature of the establishment. Household wares stand for the picking; personal items are ready to adorn you from head to foot. Kettles from by-gone decades parade next to modern ones.

A few of the outlets also offer an excellent choice of Omani silverware that includes a wide range of personal jewellery. Some of these dangle on the walls along with the famed Khanjar (a curved dagger), framed to perfection. Polished brass gleams proudly amongst ornately carved regalia. Vintage wooden chests, mellowed to an alluring deep brown shade, beckon antique enthusiasts.

Many of the traders are Indians, which reflects the close Indo-Omani relationship in this region. Most of them are fluent in English and Arabic, while some are even conversant in Swahili, a widely spoken African tongue.

A labyrinth of narrow alleys fork from the souk’s main passage. The shops in these alleys are smaller, but some of their offerings are fascinating. There are freshly ground spices with aromas to invigorate and tempt the palate of any would-be cook who happens by. Further on, some huge cauldrons – gigantic pots and pans that could hold a feast for thousands! Parts of the passages of the older sections are not paved but are extremely well-trodden and surprisingly clean. There is no telltale sign of the recent fire that partly razed the souk.

Down the main alley, an air-conditioned coffee-shop offers some respite against the humid evening heat, whipping up freshly-squeezed, thirst-quenching fruit juices along with the ever popular shawarma, the local version of the fast-food burger. Those with a craving for sugar will find a treat in helwa, a traditional finger-licking sweet for Eid and other celebrations.

Despite the abundance of modern shopping complexes in Muscat, there has yet to be an establishment that challenges the special charm of the Mutrah souk. Is it simply the availability of a wide range of merchandise at reasonable prices that keeps the old and young flocking back to its premises, or the richness of the ambience that draws you to explore its every shop and alleyway?

Whatever the reason, the Mutrah souk has successfully sailed into the current millenium as a proud beacon of Oman’s fine heritage.

Published in Special Feature, Destinations

How I Became an Author

In 1998, I moved to the Middle East with my husband and kids. I had, until then, ran a lucrative home based business.

In a country which did not recognise my Malaysian driver’s license and prohibited expatriate spouses from work without special permits which were, by all accounts, difficult to obtain, I was soon bored to tears.

After some soul-searching, I decided to try my hand at writing. After all, I told myself, I have always had good grades with my essays at school.

I approached a local magazine and they welcome me to try an article. I submitted it a week after.

Several days later, the editor rang me up. “You don’t know the fundamentals of journalism,” he said.

The words stung. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Did you butcher my story?”

“I can understand how upset you are at what I said because that’s exactly how I felt when someone commented on my writing when I first became a writer. But,” he went on, “I do believe that you have the heart and mind of a writer.”

“I’ll show him what a good writer I am,” I thought, my pride wounded.

It didn’t take me long to start on a long distance freelance journalism course which I completed in a quarter of the time (I was given two years and I did it in six months) with Distinction.

I was soon writing for an English Malaysian daily and a couple of English magazines.

In 2003, I decided to go one step further. Writing articles had become less of a challenge; I needed something that would test my mental stamina further. I decided to write a book.

It took me two years to complete my first book “Cool Mom, Super Dad” and along the way, the difficulties that came my way were such that it did cross my mind to throw in the towel.

Three things kept me going and made my dream of becoming an author a reality.

First, I am passionate about writing and I chose a subject which I really care about.

Second, I’ve been raised by parents who made me believe that I could do anything.

Third, I’m married to a man who would ask, “What will the kids say?” each time I wondered aloud if I should call it quits.

If you are an aspiring author and wish for some advice on how to get your book published, I find Mary Embree’s input spot-on with my own experience. I came across her advice only after I have completed my book project and signed a book deal with the publisher.

Best Wishes,
Jamilah

Cool Mum Super Dad

The Straight Talking Guide to Making it as a Parent Without Losing a Warm Enduring Relationship with Your Child.

"A creative treasure for parents. You will be able to relate to these moments that make parenting such a challenging yet rewarding experience"

- Yew Kam Keong, Ph. D (Dr. YKK)
International Speaker and best-selling author on creativity

For many parents, the moment a child is born, a question pops up: Now what? Since time immemorial, parenting means different things to different people. To some, it's a source of delight, bliss and contentment from day one. To others, it's a bitter sweet, sometimes mind-boggling affair, full of surprises, that stretches them to the limit virtually every minute of the day. "Cool Mum Super Dad" is written especially with the latter in mind.

Discover:

• What makes a mom cool and a dad super
• Who the happiest and most fulfilled parents are
• How little things can make a big difference in parenting
• How your personal history and upbringing define the way you parent
• Why the relationship aspect is key to a happier and healthier you
• Why fulfilling your needs is crucial to becoming a better parent
  
• Optimism: the "magic shield" in parenting
• Forgiveness and how to set a forgiving atmosphere at home
• Anger and what it does
• How girls are different from boys
• How to deal with sibling rivalry and adolescence

Available at all leading bookstores (Malaysia).

To order a copy online, contact the author.

Arabia Wild Wonders of the Wahiba Sands

A breakaway in an arid desert offers its own allure and charm, but perhaps not for the faint-hearted, says Jamilah Samian

The Al-Areesh Desert Camp claims to be the largest tourist camp in Oman. This is where the adventurous descend from all over the world to taste life in the Arabian desert.

Strategically located in the Sharqiyah region about two-and-a-half hours drive from Muscat, it promises the ‘ultimate in Bedu comfort’.

Imagine living in a commune consisting of tents made of date-palm fronds. Each tent is large enough for three single beds. Straw mats replace lush carpets. No television or telephone lines here.

The camp is almost devoid of modern amenities except for clean showers and flush toilets.

It took me three years to agree to this trip primarily because camping out in a vast ocean of sand isn’t my idea of a perfect vacation. After all, what can one do with nothingness all around?

I was about to find out that the desert is full of treasures and actually fun.

After a hearty lunch, the kids sandskied, scampered and romped their hearts out while I stretched out on a comfy bed with fresh linen.

The tent interior covered with tarpaulin was surprisingly cool and offered ample shelter against the sun.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee and dates served round the clock proved tempting.

Our first stop was a Bedu family. Bedus live a simple life but the lady who welcomed us was a gracious hostess, adorned with genuine gold jewelry although neither she nor her children wore any kind of footwear.

True to Arab hospitality, we were soon offered kahwa – piping hot Omani black coffee served in tiny cups.

After a camel ride that required skilful dismounting techniques unfamiliar to inexperienced riders, we went sand dune bashing.

There we clung to dear life as our driver criss-crossed the numerous rugged peaks and valleys of the Wahiba Sands. There were moments when I truly thought that my life hung precariously in the balance as we careened dangerously close to sheer drops of 70 feet.

However, the climax came soon after dusk.

Whilst fellow campers from South Africa and Switzerland revelled in the lively beat of Bedu music, we retreated onto unsheltered, raised platforms and the warmth of our sleeping bags.

When darkness fell the first star appeared, followed by thousands others and as the obscurity deepened so their brilliance intensified. We only retreated indoors when the temperature dropped and the dew began to descend.

As we prepared to leave the next day, it dawned upon me that the trip was one of the most hair-raising but enchanting experiences I ever had. And no, I didn’t miss my e-mails. Adieu, Wahiba Sands!

Published in Destinations, 20 September 2001