KNOW WHEN TO LEAVE A BAD MARRIAGE

SOMETIMES it is not easy to see when things are going wrong and when it has do with marriage it becomes even more so. This is understandable for women who when girls are generally fed a staple diet of happy-ever-after fairy tales. These women grow up waiting for a Prince Charming. Princess Diana is probably the classic example.
We women are conditioned to view marriage and the family as ‘sacred’ institutions to be cherished and preserved, if not for us then for the children. “Its for the children” is too common a refrain and often times it is said by women who suffer marital violence and surely one cannot say that these women do not realize that their marriage has more then soured. Yet, if they cannot see that the end is nigh, is it any wonder that the rest of us go on thinking that our marriage is blissful long after it has turned into nothing but blisters.
Take me for instance. Having fallen in love at a very young age to a good looker the problem of accepting a failed marriage is near impossible. A handsome man is a trophy. Imagine winning the World Cup, would you be able to let it go quick? And, two good looking sons do not make things easier. What you do actually want to believe is that you live in a fairy tale even when you are more than aware that it is wearing thin at the edges and well frayed at the centre.
However, is not denial an effective tool of survival? The issue before us then is how to get over the denial phase calmly and begin grappling with the inevitable – separation and ultimate divorce.
Now, what is a bad marriage? One definition which cannot go wrong is when the marriage is killing you slowly: mental and emotional pressures tantamount to torture. We all know that her bad marriage made Diana bulimic. Are you married, bulimic and/or neurotic? Do you not love yourself, that is, you let go? Your hair is tousled; you look like a sack of potatoes. In short, you lack self-esteem. Not all such cases is caused by bad marriages, of course, but a good marriage, one would have thought, is the best defence against encroaching fears of self-worth.
Another indicator that all is not well is when a wife fears a husband’s censure. Where fear lives there is much unhappiness. Whether a wife submits or shouts back is not the point. The fact is that this cannot be a happy marriage. And, if that mockery of a marriage is sustained only so the children can have a stable family then we are much mistaken. A child needs a healthy family so he or she can thrive. Remember, the buzz word here is HEALTHY; stuff the stable. A good single parent or step parent is better than a couple of lousy natural mother and father.
Seldom do bad marriages end up as good divorces. There will be recriminations and revenge and Asian women are most at risk from vindictive husbands. So, good planning is essential once we can admit to ourselves that it is over; that we made a horrendous mistake.
Such questions as who gets custody of the children (Muslim women should not bother with wanting guardianship because this is a man’s privilege); to whom will the marital home be given; what alimony quantum or will there be any alimony and so on and so forth, must be faced squarely
Trust me there is life after marriage. The aim is to make sure that it will not be a matter of coming out of the frying pan only to fall into the fire. For a working woman income is probably not too much of a bother, but child support should not be forfeited in the name of freedom. Try not to make custody a battle because it could tear the children apart. They are loyal little people, our children. Few know how to hate their parents even when they are bad. Every attempt must be made to ensure that a child’s love for both parents is not tested at all, where possible. A good divorce, therefore, is about staying totally engaged – you and your would-be ex.
Of course, this is the ideal situation. Who could be so lucky, you may ask. But persevere you must and this is indeed for the children’s sake.
When there are no children things are much easier, but be sure not to go about your divorce willy-nilly nor should you avenge yourself. The thing about it all is that getting out of a bad marriage is about preserving a healthy spirit, even when you are the dumped and not the dumpee. Stay sensible, no matter how difficult. Remember, change is a breath of fresh air loaded with gifts.

BOOK REVIEW

TITLE: THIS IS HOW WE DO IT
AUTHOR: CAROL EVANS
PUBLISHER: HUDSON STREET PRESS
Published by Penguin Group, 2006

I close the cover of this book feeling rather short-changed. Not because the book was badly written, far from it. Neither was it misleading, in fact the reverse is true. It is a treasure trove of very useful information. Is it uninteresting? I read it cover-to-cover without really having to force myself. This book is liberally dotted with beautiful anecdotes of a caring, loving, working mother who has made a success of her parenting role and her career, the two though distinctly separate is sometimes woven together in a “work-life fusion” to make for a happier working mother.
Nevertheless, as a woman and a working mother myself for most of my working years I thought that Ms Evans was a little too uncritical of her society-given lot. But before perceptions are dragged in let’s give objectivity a chance.
This book is written by a woman whose success as a marketer must come from her obvious diplomatic skills, which while empathetic is well anchored in a reality that is patiently brought round to her way of thinking. Nothing in this book can be construed as aggressively feminist. The author is not, mind you, anti-feminist. It is obvious that she believes in women’s rights and more. For, she appears to view the family unit vis-à-vis the needs of its children as almost a holy grail, even when a career woman is a single parent.
Now, why I say this is not a book for the diehard feminist is because the working mother’s double burden is not an issue, rather is a given and the book’s purpose is to help working mothers cope with the double burden so that she is not only a good mother, but maybe, more importantly, that the ‘good mother’ bit does not get in the way of her being a good employee. This is not to say that Ms Evans puts the family obligations last. Most definitely NOT!
Family obligations are it that prompted the book, mainly the result of a 2005 survey conducted by the magazine she owns and runs called “Working Mother”. The What Moms Want survey asked more than 500 working women across the USA “who cares for their kids, how much do they spend on childcare, how does having children affect their ambitions and careers?” The aim was to understand the gaps that most needed filling when it comes to the kinds of community and workplace support that working mothers need and to set the benchmark for the next 25 years of progress.
Here is a book that places the working mother on a pedestal of sorts; the wonder woman who has spun round one too many times and realize that more than super power is needed to balance the double burden.
What it tries to do is tell the reader that a mother working is, in this day and age, essential towards ensuring that the children can have most, if not all, the advantages that life has to offer: better education; nice homes; and, horizon-broadening holidays. Yet, parental and filial duties sometimes demands that mothers be away from work like when the children are unwell, or even aging parents needing care. These are the kinds of obligations that have made mothers unemployable.
On the one hand the message is, of course, targeted at women as the book itself admits: “…for all of us doing it, but want to do better. It is also for those millions of women who haven’t yet added “mother” to their resumes.” On the other, the intention is, without a doubt, to reach employers through these mothers who want to give their best to the family, company and society while at the same time living full lives. Hence the information on how and what to do to get as much support as is feasible from employers, ever mindful that most companies are still operating under Neanderthal assumptions of the male hunter-gatherer.
The thrust of the book is accommodation – push the envelope ever so gently and allow for a gradual social evolution. What it does not want to do is create the notorious sexual revolution that the 19th century blue stockinged feminists hankered after, which the 20th century feminists hoped to achieve by burning their bras as a symbol of open defiance. Now, in the 21st century and the new millennium with necessity dictating the ever-growing numbers of female workers at every level of employment and everywhere, the strategy is to make employers see that happy mothers make for excellent workers and in turn hefty profits. And, the only way to achieve this is to take cognizance of a working mother’s double burden and to lighten it substantially. So its, don’t rock the boat baby, gently does it.
To be fair the author does not ignore the need for activism. Write to your representatives when the need arises and do not wait for others to do it for you, she urges her readers. Despite this I cannot get rid of the feeling that the book is too kind of ‘feel good’ and does not properly capture the reality that can be very harsh for many working mothers, maybe not in the USA but most definitely elsewhere, especially in the developing world.
Seriously, can Malaysian women envisage a policy now of good daycare for the very young and good after-school care for the still-too-young-to-be-latchkey-children? There where Hilary Clinton is looking good to becoming the first woman US president we may safely give the push a feminine touch and get somewhere. Here, there is still much debate on whether Islam allows for a woman premier! That Muslim women can go out to work only with the express permission of their husband is a very close second. Two basic women’s rights issues generally plaguing Muslim women in far too many Muslim societies.
THIS IS HOW WE DO IT is a reference book with a pleasant difference. For us here it is a look-in on working mothers who are firmly on the path of gender enlightenment, but one with a distinctly sentimental twist: a future of "happy families" where both Mr and Mrs Baker wears pants and Master and Miss Baker are well-adjusted children rich in character moulding experiences well before they even get to university. After all, isn’t the university life’s starting line, where the scramble for survival begins?
END

TOUCHING HEAVEN

Has any of you ever hoped for heaven and found paradise? Maybe I did when sometime last year I found a little modest getaway tucked along the slope of a mountain high up above the beautiful Indonesian city of Bogor.

Firdaus, the Arabic for paradise, came to me in one of my life's most miraculous phases. Like all miracles it was never here to stay and like them it left me gifts, reminders of its visit. That miracle afforded me the opportunity to believe that I had touched Heaven and was in God's presence and in that magical moment I fell really in love for the very first time.

Even if Firdaus was to be taken from me I would still have its many beautiful imprints on my mind.

There is that unforgettable evening when we were awed by the setting sun sinking behind the distant mountain appearing as a raging fire burning the mountain and the twilight horizon, and painting the early evening sky with bright, strong hues of orange and red. Then the day when the thick, cold, damp mist roll in at such speed that it took over our sitting room before we had time to shut it out and after it had swallowed the world outside mercilessly. That day I understood how awful it would be without someone always there to love and comfort me; someone I too loved unconditionally. For, the house was like a little toy wrapped in cotton wool, quite alone. It could well have been in its own gift box at that moment ready for God to give away as a present. What about that late afternoon when the gale stormed into the valley and ripped the roofs of many of the more exposed dwellings. I remember the fear so clearly nuanced into the unscheduled muezzin call to prayer, a call made stronger by a faith buoyed by danger. I knew then that my humble retreat was indeed heaven for we were left mostly untouched in our little niche in the well of the mountain's palm.

I must have touched Heaven at least once if not always when I am home in Firdaus. Its mock log cabin facade may seem tacky to the arty-farty, but to me it blends in nicely as man's friendly gesture to the environment. For, I have been toying with giving it a touch of class, like Corinthian columns holding up an imposing porch so the Parthenon may be reproduced and the ancient Greek gods be given a home away from home. Or even a brush of white and aquamarine blue and maybe succeed in hauling the Mediterranean up to the mountains. But, other than the constraints of money, that little cabin seems so perfect for where it is.

TO HELL AND HOPEFULLY BACK

Some disenchanted evening everything can suddenly become strange and someone you think you know becomes a total stranger. That's when you start thinking "Hi Bali" or even Singapore or Jakarta. Anywhere for that matter for there it will be better than where you are.

When that happened to me it was a devastating experience because of the enormity of the triggering incident. If I was not careful and act immediately to protect myself I would land in jail!!!

And so all hell broke loose for me leaving me feeling undoubtedly adrift and drowning in self-doubt. Not because I had much choice. I did not. There was but only one way to go and I didn't even know then whether I'd be going forward, sideways or in reverse. In hindsight, it is looking like I am locked in the last condition -- going backwards with no rear view mirror; a neck so stiff I cannot turn round to ensure my safety; and, with the motor still most definitely running. At what speed? I cannot tell because I am not sure.

Why any doubt when the situation was dire? Loyalty born of naivete brought on by a nurture pegged to filial piety. A pervasive Asian value not normally malignant in effect, but probably outmoded in a world of capitalist avarice and legally doubtful business practices.

Where modernity collides with neo-feudalism, questions of right from wrong within a given legal framework becomes the imperative of all actions, especially in matters relating to money. It is a bad situation made worse by laws adopted that are alien to local morass. Consequently, practitioners of the law and laymen alike, in this environment, view the challenge as working round the law and not to uphold justice as the law is intended to do. In my case, it took the all too real threat of jail to prompt me to do the "right" thing by me, at least. With any luck justice will be served but at the moment its looking very doubtful from where I am standing.

It is a cat and mouse game where the little flea has very little hope in hell if it clings on to either host. It is best for the flea to flee post haste. And so, the birth of my blog. A new odyssey begins adding another layer to a now much layered existence. Whither I wander I can never be sure. The only certainty is SAMSARA.

GETTING TO KNOW ME

I can't be sure who I am and so, in all honesty, what I am sharing with you is much guess work. Yes, the state knows me as my given name, who my parents are, the date I was born, where I was born and lately my religious fate. The state gave me a number, part of a series that is expected to go on and on and on... You catch my drift? I am but a number verified by my thumb print. Therefore, but for the personal numbers we have been assigned, you and I are essentially the same.

I resent this thought. The state cannot take away my individuality even if it took my numbers after I am dead and assign it to another.

I am me. Call me whatever you like I will be me even in my state of not knowing who I really am. And so, I invite you to give me a name and tell me why you think I should be that name.
But before that a few hints to assist in this naming game.
1. I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR
2. R-E-S-P-E-C-T
3. Immortality
4. Moonlight Sonata