Note from one of my lovelier Angel ~ Petra Gimbad

"We often think of peace as the absence of war, that if powerful countries would reduce their weapon arsenals, we could have peace. But if we look deeply into the weapons, we see our own minds- our own prejudices, fears and ignorance. Even if we transport all the bombs to the moon, the roots of war and the roots of bombs are still there, in our hearts and minds, and sooner or later we will make new bombs. To work for peace is to uproot war from ourselves and from the hearts of men and women. To prepare for war, to give millions of men and women the opportunity to practice killing day and night in their hearts, is to plant millions of seeds of violence, anger, frustration, and fear that will be passed on for generations to come. "

— Thich Nhat Hanh (Living Buddha, Living Christ)

Interview with Herworld by Aneesa A

Been spending time/working/volunteering for Rumah Nur Salam with the kids is great and a fruitful event. All thanks to Dina Zaman for getting me into this NGO organization. This is something that I have wanted to do for a long while. And I've meeting great interesting people in KL, they are all so passionate about what they do for the kids and a street angel indeed.  They may not dress as colorful/flamboyant as the people of the industry that I am in. But, their life are full of colors which something money can't buy or have, only they can experience it. To me, that is incredible....I still have so much to learn from them.

Join me If you have time to spare for the kids....

EVERY CHILD MATTERS!

Malaikat-malaikat perjalananku. (Angels on my path) by Petra Gimbad

It's been a crazy few days, and contrary to what many say - I don't think that one should use the poor to feel better about oneself. There are reasons to feel blessed, but Lord, let's not turn the disadvantaged into token meditation tools.



The reason why I can feel refreshed is because of two kids, who make me reflect on how God can exist in foresaken places. There's something about seeing a place through the eyes of a child. Not all, but some children just have that light and it's always an honour to know and be loved by some of them.



My little street angels.



Yesterday, I offered to take a couple of children home after buka puasa (open fast) since it was dark and I was at the centre anyway. The older refused and her younger brother piped up shyly, "Aku nak kakak ikut kita balik." (I want older sister to follow us home)



So I did. It was a short walk and an absolutely joyful one, with their high-pitched voices lighting the way. We passed a mentally ill man waving a sheaf of blank white papers at oncoming cars on the road, and a mamak (stall) flanked by a transgendered sex worker and female sex workers. That corner, on some nights, is a popular joint for the lower income European sex worker circuit.



After we passed the man, the older asked, "Kakak tak takut ke? Jalan ni tak selamat." (Isn't older sister scared? These streets aren't safe.)



"Engkau pula tiap-tiap hari jalan jalan ni - tak selamat ke? Takkan budak nak jalan kakak tak berani pulak." (You walk these streets daily - aren't you scared? If you kids can walk, surely there's no reason for me to be scared)



They asked me where I lived and I told them. "Oo, jauh - tak perlu ikut kita. Nanti kak balik lambat." (Oo, that's far - you don't have to follow us. Or you'll reach home late.)



I laughed and told them it's ok, as long as they get home safe.



The teen turned to the child sibling and explained, "Biar lambat, asal selamat." (Better late than never.) I wondered whether I should tell them it's drink and drive wisdom.



They waved and looked back after they cross the road to their home. They wanted to see if I was watching, and I am so glad I was.



I went home and told mum how moved I was that they were so concerned for my safety, when this was behaviour I took for granted as a child. I thought that this is how adults SHOULD treat me.



These kids, from a lower-income household in a red light district, were so incredibly sweet and sensitive to my safety, an adult.



One of the kids just waved at me from my office window and asked if I got home safe.



I told her I did.

A romantic note from a friend.....

That first kiss. The shock of something right.

Bodies melting, renewing. Discovering the familiar for the first time.

Falling asleep by your side, because I could.

Sounds and taste. Your hair mingled with mine.

Sniffing my fingers in the aftermath. The smell of you on my hands.

The scent of you during long plane rides. The goodbyes before the goodbye.

How I miss you now. You used to drive me in the moonlight, to our
secret space where we would hike in the dark.

I miss that stone house. You promised we would return, and we never did.

But that house lingers in my body. The memory of the cold wind and you.

The soft kisses in the dark. The smell of the ground rising. The scent
of soil in your hair.

Kissing you in a yellow dress. Aching now.

My hands are empty with longing. The smell and taste of you lingers.

A note from an angle, Petra.

To laugh often and much,
To win the respect of intelligent people
And the affection of children,
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
And endure the betrayal of false friends,
To appreciate beauty,
To find the best in others,
To leave the world a bit better,
Whether by a healthy child, a garden patch,
Or a redeemed social condition,
To know that even one life has breathed
Better because you have lived,
This is to have succeeded.

Success by Ralph Waldo Emerson