Back when I was a youngster in the Continental School in Jeddah (now apparently known as the British International School of Jeddah), I was a keen writer. I loved our English lessons and I enjoyed essay-writing because back then, I’d get high marks for my creative writing and illustrations. Little gold stars and everything! Words, ideas and phrases just came to me so easily then. I aspired to be the next Judy Blume or Enid Blyton and was very fond of Roald Dahl. I was also an avid reader, borrowing an endless number of books from the school library and from friends and polishing them off as if they were the last remnants of my favourite ice-cream at the bottom of the cup (think Baskin Robbins’ Butter Pecan flavour. Yummo!).
Alas, all that came to an end when my parents sent me back to Malaysia to complete my high school years in a sekolah kebangsaan. I was confused as to why my parents would want to send me away and was visibly upset, as you can imagine because:
1) I was forced to be apart from my family (which, I believe, was how I was first subjected into dealing with long-distance relationships in a way
2) I was already in 8th grade (Form 2) at the time but I had no choice but to leave and start my Form 1 all over again and
3) I had to live with my dreaded (late) grandmother in JB. She was the personification of the infamous large, overbearing, fierce, cane-wielding, hair-in-a-bun grandmother in Lat’s cartoons. Remember her?
And that was when, I suspect, my English began to deteriorate. (I do realize though that that’s no real excuse as I know a lot of people who speak and write excellent English despite the fact that they’ve never stepped foot out of the country.) Also I think the reason behind my “Makcik-ness” whenever I speak Malay is from having been and grown up around a lot of elderly people that whole time. Johor, pulak tu.. molek , sepatu, gerobok and the very Johorean “HEH??” were soon words that I became accustomed to over the years.
School wasn’t a very conducive environment for creativity, though. Instead, I experienced my first “tension” moment, where all that mattered were passing your exams and getting the highest marks. Everything was being taught parrot-fashion and students were too meek to say anything. Your teachers were not your friends – at least not my BM, Maths and History teachers, anyway. Is it any wonder they became my least favourite subjects? I dreaded going to school – it was a culture shock for me. Take for example, the whole Arts vs Economics vs Science streams. The heck?? Never agreed with it then. Still don’t agree with it now. I’m eternally thankful, though, that my essential growing up years were in an international environment as opposed to the other way around. Pros and cons, but I won’t get into that here.
I did try to be active in school, however… my English teacher convinced me to enter elocution contests and be in the debate team where we managed to reach the finals (although we didn’t win) and I and a handful of like-minded classmates decided to initiate our first English school magazine.
The 1119 Paper was the closest I got to the standard of English I was more accustomed to in my early years. I was the only Malay girl in my school to take it but I was thoroughly upset with myself when I got a grade 2 despite the fact that it was the highest grade in my school and my principal was thrilled with me. Nevertheless, I was bitterly disappointed because another girl in a rival school managed to get a grade 1. Bugger! You know, there’s always this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that if I had had a chance to stay on and complete my education back in Jeddah, I would’ve accomplished so much more… I’ll never know now but (sigh) I’ve long accepted the fact that here is where I am now and I have to make the most of it and not wallow in self-pity… well… maybe just a little…
Over the years, though, I wrote less and less save for a few poems here and there. (My last one was a maelstrom of depression and despair so am not going to be featuring that here anytime soon) I also didn’t read as much as I used to but that habit picked up again later, thankfully. And eventually, I stopped writing altogether. Then, came RedFM…
I started off a segment on my show called “Dine With Dilly”, where I was assigned the delightful duty of dining at various restaurants for free, talk about it on my show and give away meal-vouchers. I know I’m doing a good job when I get a random call from a listener who exclaims “Dilllllyyyy!!! You’re making us hungrrryyyy!!” Those who know me well know how much I love to eat and that I eat much. Terry calls me the Little Big Eater. I guess that sums it up nicely. I’m trying to eat less. Really. But I digress.
Turns out, due to a deal with KL Lifestyle, I was also supposed to do a write-up for each food review. I balked at the prospect of having to write articles for a magazine. I hadn’t written in yonks and felt as rusty as my cousin’s Tiara’s air-con compressor which hadn’t been serviced in ages! But I took it up as a personal challenge and decided to go for it. I’m my own worst critic though so with each article, I needed a second opinion and “engaged” the wonderful editing skills of Will Quah. Below are the results (cringe)…. I’m no writer and I’m painfully aware of it. Tried my best, nonetheless. Didn’t manage to get all the clippings though… missing about 4 or 5 more.. must have a word with Marcomm…
