Bismillahirrahmanirrahim...
handphone sy diabbondand kan sejak tamat intec.
entah berapa lama tersadai di meja study saya ni pun, sy tak ingat.
hinggakan kedua2 handphone sy kehabisan battery (sejak bila?) sy abaikan.
hari ni tergerak utk melihat2 handphone, terus ke charger dan charge handphone.
berduyun message masuk ke inbox. mostly were from my friends yang bertanya khabar.
huhu. serba salah benar rasanya. sorry!
kurang
hari ni kesihatan sy sedikit terganggu.
on bed hampir seharian. but now im back on feet; alhamdulillah.
dua biji ubat ditelan. ya.. sy makan ubat. :)
ups, jgn terlalu awal mengucapkan tahniah pd sy kerana berjaya mkn ubat.
heheee.. itupun setelah dipaksa oleh bonda saya.
usai dinner lewat 7 ptg tadi.
siap perlu ngangakan mulut, tanda sy benar2 sudah menelan ubat2 itu.
nampaknya ubat menjalankan kerjanya dgn baik.
dan ia menjadi asbab yang ukuh, untuk bonda sy mencubit sy dek kerana enggan memakan ubat awal2.
"degil sgt. sanggup tahan sakit dari pagi? tgk tu sekarang dah boleh ketawa2".
;D heheeee... ya. ya. sorry ma. sorry. :P
ijlal.
seorang pelawat , menurut rekod feedjit, melawti blog saya dgn mencari "nuur ijlal". antara site yang terbuka (selain dari laman blog sy ini) adalah "Nama Pilihan Lelaki"
.. nama pilihan lelaki. :)
nama saya ini, mmg sebenarnya untuk lelaki.
kalau sebut "ijjlal" sahaja tanpa "nuur" nya, ramai yang akan fikir bahawa sy ini seorang lelaki.
i'm used to that. dari kecil sy sedar nama sy ini jarang digunakan. sedikit asing. ttp dari kecil lagi sy sudah pandai utk mempertahankan nama sy ini. tidak gemar jika dipanggil selain dari nama ijjlal.
satu masa dahulu, ketika umur sy kira2 5-6 tahun, sy pernah "bergaduh besar" dgn ustaz badrul yang memanggil sy Jaliah. katanya, itu female version of "ijjlal".
setiap kali bersua dgn ustaz badrul, pasti sy akan berpaling muka, enggan bersalam dgnnya. marah benar agaknya sy waktu tu. kerana nama sy ijjlal, bukan jaliah.
tp itu dahulu shj. :) kes zaman kecik2. kini, even bonda dan ayahnada sy memanggil sy dgn nama Jaliah.
satu "masalah" lain mengenai nama sy adalah ramai yg tidak dapat menyebut nama sy dgn betul. jika perlu memperkenalkan diri spt di hapadan satu kumpulan, sy pasti takkan lupa utk berpesan, bahawa nama saya ini bermula dgn huruf alif, bukan ain.
maka, panggil saya dgn sebutan ijjlal, bukan 'ijjlal.
kerana jika memnaggil saya dgn nama 'ijlal, ertinya, anda akan memanggil sy sbg "seekor anak lembu"
betapa besarnya perubahan makna sesuatu perkataan itu, hanya kerana satu huruf.
ish, sy tak mahu menjadi seekor anak lembu!
budak2 kecil sukar benar mahu menyebut nama saya.
sepupu2 sy di kampung lebih senang memanggil dgn nama, "kak jilal."
awalnya sy risau juga. entah apa makna nama jilal tu, sy pun tak tahu.?
kalau tiada sebarang makna, itu, x mengapalah.. i
ni dibuatnya maknanya yg bukan2. naya sy nanti.
so, sedikit research dibuat upon the meaning of Jilal.
to my surprise, Jilal ini ada juga maksudnya. :)
sy x pasti samada ada atau tidak maknanya dalam arabic, ttp apa yg sy perolehi itu bukan dari arabic, but dari hebrew. ya. Jilal terdapat dalam senarai nama hebrew!
maknanya? hampir sama seperti makna Ijjlal dalam arabic, yakni, penghormatan.
ok, hebrew pun hebrew lah. janji ada makna.
how long?
pada laman yang sama "Nama Pilihan Lelaki" yang sy buka itu, terpampang posting khas mengenai tragadi yang sy postkan beberapa hari lepas. tragedi yang meragut nyawa seorang wanita mengandung ditikam 18 kali, di dalam mahkamah.
Marwa Al-Sherbini selamat dikebumikan pada hari yang sama micheal Jackson disemadikan. kira2, satu minggu yang lalu.
hmm... oleh kerana tiada kata yang mampu sy postkan disini hari ini, saya lampirkan satu posting dari www.black-iris.com.
satu posting yang sy kira boleh membuatkan kita berfikir sejenak. come, read.
"Ribuan orang di Mesir yang menghantar jenazah Marwa ke tempat peristirahatannya yang terakhir, memang tidak sebanyak orang yang menangisi kepergian Michael Jackson. Marwa hanya seorang ibu dan bukan superstar seperti MJ. Tapi kepergian Marwa adalah lambang jihad seorang muslim. Marwa mempertahankan harga dirinya sebagai seorang Muslimah yang mematuhi ajaran agamanya meski untuk itu ia kehilangan nyawanya." -quoted.Let me break down this story to see if I have it right (if anything, for my own sanity).
A 31-year old, headscarf-wearing Egyptian Muslim woman, Marwa Al-Sherbini, who was about four months pregnant, takes her German neighbor to court for calling her a “terrorist”. Now, in the courtroom, the neighbor, Alex W., stabs her 18 times right in front of her 3-year old son.
Her husband, a research fellow, tries to come to her rescue and ends up not only getting stabbed as well by the attacker, but is actually mistaken for the attacker and shot by the security guard.
This case was so mind-baffling when I read it a few days ago and I still haven’t been able to wrap my mind around it. Many questions and thoughts have been floating around in my head, and I hate to admit it but the most pertinent one that rests right at the foreground of my brain is based on two words: 18 times.
I am not a forensic scientist but I’ve seen enough Hollywood movies to know that stabbing someone 18 times isn’t a task that you get done in 5 or 10 seconds unless you’re the cyborg or a robot sent from the future. 18 times.
How long did it take for people in the courtroom to realize this woman was being stabbed and that someone should do something about it?
18 times.
Seriously, try stabbing the wind 18 times right now as quickly as possible.
Go ahead.
I’ll wait.
See what I’m saying?
Oh, and add to that her husband getting stabbed three times by the same guy before the tragedy came to an end (with the husband being shot).
Now I know this is a question that might seem silly or even absurd in light of this event. I know a better debate is being framed elsewhere (thanks to Egyptian bloggers). I know that a great deal of the conversation that centers around this case has been with regards to the lack of western coverage (what did they expect?) and the outrage in Egypt (what did they expect?) and the outrage to come from the perhaps various parts of the Muslim world (what did they expect?) or the rising Islamophobia in the West (what did they expect?), but while all these conversations are valid and have their own time and context to consider, for some reason, I remain mesmerized by this number: 18.
18 times.
Strictly on a human level, how long does it take for someone to react. To move. To say “stop”. To say “enough”. Strictly on a human level. No religion. No gender. Just a human being watching one human being slaughtered by another.
How long does it take?
How does that number reach 18?
See, this is what’s been getting to me lately. In my head, this number, 18, rings incredibly significant. I recognize that there’s evil in this world, and that there always will be. There are breaking limits in this world and I recognize that too. There are numbers that weigh heavy on the human soul, and every one has one. It’s unmistakable. It’s undeniable. Often times we have absolutely no control over them and we relieve ourselves of any responsibilities. Like Tolstoy would put it, we pretend to simply be kings who are slaves to the whims of history. But often times, we do.
Often times, and not all the time, but some of the time, we do.
Often times these things happen right in front of us.
On our watch.
On our watch, these numbers take shape.
For Marwa Al-Sherbini that magical number was eighteen.
But what’s the body count in Iraq today?
What about the West Bank or Gaza?
What about in Darfur?
What’s their magic number? What’s their breaking limit?
At what point do we say “enough”?
More importantly.
At what point will we mean it?
