R.I.P Miffy

Yesterday, I was going to visit my relatives in another city. Before leaving, I played with my favorite hamster, Miffy. I forgot to shut the latch.
I went off to my aunts house, and that's when I realised. But I tried to ignore the panicky feeling.
Then when it was night, we had dinner at another relative's house. I kept on telling my mum, "Miffy! Miffy!"
But she said he was probably alright, Insya Allah. It turns out Allah had wanted me to learn a lesson.
I went home and saw an ugly, worm-tailed rat bound from the shadows and hide in the bathroom. I called my dad, and he was going to get the sticky rat-catcher, but Iris defiantly refused. "Don't," she said. "What if there's still a hamster?"
I saw my hamster's cage, the latch quite open. Vifa, my other hamster, and mother of Miffy, jumped about in her cage. I saw worry painted into her wise, old eyes.
I looked behind the sofa to find a horrifying sight.
Miffy, my baby hamster, one of his paws bloodily torn off. "Miff!" I whispered. "Miff, wake up. Miffy! Miffy!"
But my hamster would rise no more. It was a lesson Allah meant for me. He was angry that I seldom helped my poor mother cook and clean.
My dad buried Miffy Kovi near my older hamster, Max.
Inalilahi wa inna ilaihi roji'un

Rest in peace, my Miffy. I'll see you later.

Book Reviews with Anya (BRWA) The Rainbow Troops

Heheh. I think it's time for some PATRIOTISME. If you all understand what it means.
Okay, okay, it means love for your homeland. Let's just get to the review!
                                                          ****************************

The Rainbow Troops 

Andrea Hirata

  This charming book, The Rainbow Troops, or, originally Laskar Pelangi is an international best seller. It tells a story of students from a poor school, from the point of view of Ikal, a curly head who is in love with the hands of a Chinese girl.
Trapani, a handsome boy who is obsessed with his mother, Lintang, who's drug is education, and Kucai with a figure of a politician are some of the unique characters of this book. 

"Humour, adrenaline, and the harsh reality of life in Bangka Island, Indonesia, are just the basic ingredients of Andrea Hirata's best seller."

Andrea Hirata's novel is now a movie

The children fight to keep their crooked school from the evil grasp of state owned enterprizes. Bu Muslimah and Pak Harfan try to help, but after the death of their elderly Pak Harfan, things don't look too good. Some students, including Kucai, Samson, Mahar, A Kiong, and, finally, Ikal are tempted by treasure and skip school for their pain staking jobs.
Finally, Bu Mus' young and determined spirit brings them back together to hold the school together.
Will ten children and one teenager be able to save the termite-infested building they call school?
Read Rainbow Troops to find out!

Tips on Life

Excuses on being Late to School

"I don't know."
"My parents lost the key to my cage."
"The bus dropped me off on Mars."
"I was brushing my pet giraffe."
"The bed took me to another dimension."
"My hamster locked the door."
"Someone told me to count my hair."
"Mum made me cook for the whole of Spain."
"I think everybody's too early."

How to Escape from Aliens

Lock the door and make silly noises. If an alien gets into your house, sing "Humpty Dumpty" but change "Humpty dumpty sat on a wall" to "Humpty dumpty sat on a UFO".
This will hypnotise the aliens and make them jump into a UFO.
Wear pink sunglasses all the time and pucker your lips when you talk. Bring a pendulum around and tell the time wrong, so the aliens will think their time on earth is over.

 

JOKES&UPDATES

Q: What do you get if you mixed your principal with a wooden club?
A: A headache

Q: What is a slug?
A: A snail with housing problems

Q:If you threw yourself into a black pond, whaddaya get?
A: Wet

Q: What is a horse plus a sore throat?
A: Hoarse

                                                                ~~~~~~~
Hey guys! Did you know that I'm fasting? Do you even know what fasting IS? Do you even know WHY I'm fasting? Hah? Hah!?
CRACK!
(I smashed the window)
"Anya!!!! I just fixed that!"
"Sorry, mum!"
Now, it is Ramadhan. If you wanna know what that is, then you'd better have Internet and Google.

                                                          ~See Ya!

Hamsterz

Hey guys! A while ago, my new hamsters (Vifa&Koko) had 5 babies! But sadly, 1 died.
Now there are 3 babies left, since I gave one of them to my friend, Adel.
Each of the hamsters have different personalities.
Cooky is clumsy, small, and, let's face it,: a wimp (just like his Papa). Muffin could be hauled all the way across the world, but he wouldn't realise it if you gave him a couple o' kuacis and popcorns.
Miffy is fiesty and strong, and Viko is nibbly (ouch) and a scaredy-hamster.

Wanna-be Writers

Hi guys. You might recall, I moved from Aussie to Indo. Well, I was at a bookstore once. A rack displayed rows of books from the same publisher. It publishes books that Indonesian kids write by theirselves.
I read through a couple of books. 95% of the books were about going overseas, having bestfriends from America, Australia, Japan, Korea. It made me clench my fists. My heart drummed against my chest.
The children showed off. They were about the same age as me, the writers. Yet their books were so.....so wannabe!
A girl wrote about shopping and being rich. Another wrote that she came from multiple backgrounds. Another said she was a rockstar, living in America.
The children were showing off about having mountains of money, fans, and unlimited tickets to America.
They spoke in wanna-be English. It got me tongue-tied and sick. It made me want to punch the walls in anguish.
One day, I was called by my mother. She showed me a magazine. The article featured the negative effects from children writers. The children were fooled my materials. Money, toys, clothes.
They thought foreign countries had everything.
But some writers knew that going into foreign countries wasn't to show off when they wrote a book.
I could never express how much I feel toward those children.
Well, this is Anya.

Thanks to Being Greedy

By Anya

Hi. I’m Jennifer Rowly. My father is Peter K. Rowly, working as the president. My mother is Yessica Ann Rowly. After hearing my father’s job, you won’t belive 
my mother’s.
 The palace tailor. 

It’s because she likes dressing up. Her partners, Annika and Milly, are ever so grateful, because when my mother became tailor, their very drab workroom
 became a whole building. 

I go to the best school, Red Velvet Education. Only a few other children go to that school because of it’s price. Some megarich people and some 
governor or celebrity kids. 

It’s pickup car is a limo, and it’s canteen is as big as a food court.

Everyone is a show off. But I have 3 modest friends. Charlene Abigail, a child singer, Ima Prasasti Nur
 who is the child of an Indonesian embassador, and Rick Karl, cousin of the queen’s uncle. 

But Ima (read Eeema) is too proud of her hometown, Jakarta. 

***

The grandfather clock announces 11 o’clock, but I’m not even in bed. 

I work hard, snipping at raw edges of the photo. The photo of me and Miss Kyle, my teacher who moved schools last week. 

I dip my brush into the pot of glue, then sprinkle glitter all over the edges of the photo.

My tongue sticks out of the corner of my mouth as I glue it on a piece of poster paper. “Miss Jennifer, why are you still awake?” Ellen, 
my carer, asks.

“Uhh...busy,” I mutter.

“Alright, I shall make some hot chocolate,” she says, walking out.

My room is 5x7 meters. It has an airconditioner and a little tv. Mum doesn’t want to give me a proper 20 inch one, because
 she says I shouldn’t even be watching it.

I refused to have any creepy paintings that have eyes that follow you, so instead there are rainbows and stars stuck on my walls. 

Dad told someone to paint the roof with a sunset. It looked so beautiful, but sometimes I wouldn’t wake up because I thought it was still afternoon.
 Anyway, it was Dad’s idea!

I have a baby sister called Isla. She has a sweet face, tiny cheeks that look full of grapes, and little fists that curl around my fingers.

I finish the drawing and smile. I can’t wait to send it to Miss Kyle!

By the time Ellen comes, I’m tucked in my bed, dreaming about sipping a hot chocolate.

***

I wait beside the guard, waiting for the pickup car. I see in movies that Dad watches, the kids chase a big yellow bus and pile in, talking loudly and happily.

It’s very different when the limo arrives, it stops sharp in front of me and the door opens. I step in, trying to be quiet and prim. Other kids sit straight, wearing black like spies. 

Huh....next stop is Ima’s at Green Fielding Luxury Estate. Then it’s Rick’s at Green Country Estate. THEN Charlene at Angelo Park. Huhh...

***

Charlene steps into the limo, wearing a purple hood and green gloves. A very different fitting to the other children. But Charlene has round blue eyes and golden hair. 
She also has a beautiful smile.

Rick rolls his eyes, taking in Charlene’s clothing. “Girls these days. They...” he stops short as Georgine Frost glares at him irritably.

Ima is busy reading her History book, getting ready for Miss Beri’s test.

Ima has blackish red hair and a flat nose. She is always saying R too long, but her English is perrrrfect. Heh..

Me? Hazel eyes, brown fringe, and lumpy nose. Oh, and I am very, very FRECKLY. 

But noone dares to tease me. Not because I’m the president’s daughter, but because I can REALLY punch.

Once, a boy called Benny called me “potatoe” but he ended up being the “mashed” potatoe. 

AND no teachers dared to give me detention!

***

After class, we go into the canteen. I get a chicken drumstick and mango juice, and Ima has a “nasi goreng” and “tape ketan”.
 I don’t know how exactly how an “Indonesian Foods” table appeared in the corner of the canteen, but Ima says that her prayer to God was answered.
 Rick has fries and a Coke, so I’ll be waiting for him to scream like a pregnant woman in Mr Pete’s class.

Charlene is always elegant, so she has a salad with french dressing and a tall glass of mineral water.

She can only say, “Tch tch tch” when her eyes focus on our greedy helpings. 

While we eat our delicious food, suddenly the emergency alarm rings. We all leave our lunch and run to class. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask when Rick comes back from looking out. 

“Robber,” he whispers in horror. “The robber’s hitting Mr Richard.”

I feel angry. “I’ll show him!”

Ima and Charlene hold me back, “No. Don’t.”

But I don’t listen. I grab a beanie from the spare clothing rack and rip two holes in the fabric. I see Catherine Monument glare at me, but I don’t care. 

Everyone hides behind the big table when the door opens with a crash.

A man wearing black clothing stares at me through two slits in black. 

Good thing I wore black “like a ninja”! 

“Whut?” I say, making a fake accent. “The school’s bin rubbed, bud. Me and me pals, yer know. En I got a pistol!” 

I take Ricky’s toy gun (which looks real) and aim it at him. I know I could be killed. I know my life could end at the dull shot of a pistol. But I stay still. 
Suddenly, I hear a moan. 

Great! Rick needs to go to the toilet. He stumbles out from behind the table. He points to the hole on his blouse. It was there since year 3, but 
I don’t need to tell the robber that. 

But I see blood there. Trying to hold my position, I say to the robber, “I just shot dat guy. Yer wanna be next, matey?”

The robber looks scared. He doesn’t have any weapons. He looks back at Rick, who is clutching his chest and crying. 

Then the robber runs away, out the school.

A few seconds go by. “YAY!” everyone screams, hugging me. Why aren’t they concerned about Rick? I break the crowd and hurry to my buddy. 

Rick is grinning!

“Whew,” he says.

Then Ima explains that Rick saw me get his gun. Suddenly, his stomach hurt, so he dabbed it with Ima’s “sambal” that was still on the plate she brought to class! 
And because his stomach REALLY hurt, he cried. That was basically how I lived! 

Thanks to Ima and Rick being greedy, then Ima brought her plate of “sambal”, Rick had a stomach ache from eating junk food. Then because of their clever idea,
 I’m not being rushed to hospital!

That night, I tell everything to everyone. And you know what? I’m in the newspaper.

Whoops, gotta go, the 7 o’clock news are going to interview me!

Well, this is Jennifer Rowly, over and out!