Recent Updates Page 2 Toggle Comment Threads | Keyboard Shortcuts

  • abramsuzan 4:41 am on December 6, 2009 Permalink | Reply  


    by Susan Abraham

    Someone said he was going but did he come? Someone told me he was coming but did he go?

    In Malaysia, while loyal to my land of birth, I stay awed by a restless spirit that provokes about me, an air of deep conjecture and mystery for the faraway and reckless. I am unsure of why my footsteps hurry me on, while linking one puzzle into the silent waiting gap of another complicated one with the utmost ease.

    Like a box of crayons where one brazen colour may erase a meeker shade without sympathy, I run to where cultures top religion and landscapes melt into the sea. I embrace hills that grow on mountains and linger at airports which catch the skies. I can never understand why nor the time and hour that may seem so detrimental to others but which stay hospitable to me.

    It must have all started from childhood when my father would bundle my mother, my two brothers, sister and I into an old Toyota to seek out the splendid neon lights of a Merdeka symphony every August 31st when Malaysia gloriously celebrated her independence with her famous dame-like austerity.

    Ever the eccentric, my father would carefully circle a roundabout in Pekeliling Street of old Kuala Lumpur and now as I know this to be in my grown-up years; nestled right next door to Chinatown. In the middle of the roundabout and statued in its resplendent flamboyance stood a large colourful fountain.

    I watched with awe as how swayed by the wind, tiny garlanded bulbs danced around it in a robust harvest mood. That must have been the moment for an old truth when my girlish dreams would begin forever, their tailspin journey into the unknown and never turning back.

  • abramsuzan 5:01 am on December 5, 2009 Permalink | Reply  

    Returning to Kuala Lumpur A Window View at 4.30am Dec 5. 

    by Susan Abraham

    The harsh tropical rain beats down the sleepy air in torrents. With closed eyes, I treat myself to the forgotten rush of noise that slices my silence, like a string of fountains in choir. Excitable in togetherness, each one gushes up a melodious spray composed of thunderous hysteria and an orchestrated rhythm bent on applause.

    The downpour rises and falls from its cresendo to a slow whimper before another trek climb, up an invisible skyline. Or perhaps a visiting waterfall, mistaking my bedroom for an enchanted forest, waits to pounce unawares. I stay enraptured.

    Not far from where I stand, 2 handsome lampposts wear their golden shiny light like Sunday suits, kissing each dainty drop as if they may have secretly been randy lovers at a boisterous party. Who would guess.

    I see distant lights from scores of countless apartments and closed offices bathed in yellows and whites and from a nearby street festooned in a strange neon colour…the niftiest royal blue. Far below my window, the rain has painted pavements a sharp silver that makes the puddles glow.

    Now and then, tiny cars, buses and lorries snake their way over flyovers and on highways, ferociously determined to challenge the dawn. An empty electronic train shows off acrobatic bodywork. It curls up a circular track with superior dexterity and slides past with a whoosh, vanishing into the darkness.

    I observe faraway foreboding buildings loom up like ghosts, their speckled lights and rooftops, melting eerily into the big black skies. I stay untouched by the humidity that lurks outside my glass window.

    Instead, I think slowly about how Kuala Lumpur has blossomed into a modern buxomy fullness that threatens to burst with monumental pleasure at its seams. No longer evident is the quaint, uncluttered charm evident of the city – then a township – in the sixties and seventies, where it stayed mothered by lush green jungles and lullabied to a tenderness by cool monsoon winds, manufactured exclusively to the equator.

  • abramsuzan 8:09 am on December 4, 2009 Permalink | Reply  

    I’m rejoicing. Ticket to Africa in my ha… 

    I’m rejoicing. Ticket to Africa in my hand at last. My friends and the Kilimanjaro & also a safari or 2 are getting closer by the minute.  The only drawback is that this time round I’m missing Des terribly.

  • abramsuzan 1:47 am on December 4, 2009 Permalink | Reply  


    Am in Kuala Lumpur. Humid after Dublin. Beads of sweat outdoors always. KL looking elegant & atmospheric. Have to run errands today & collect Africa ticket. 4 days left. Was awake all night writing stories in my room. Also finished Peter Carey novel ‘My Life as a Fake’ on 2 flight sittings – Dub-KL. Will have time tomorrow on the web to post a few things.

  • abramsuzan 7:33 pm on December 2, 2009 Permalink | Reply  

    Abu Dhabi airport has turned sophisticat… 

    Abu Dhabi airport has turned sophisticated & competitive.  Am here at the moment. It has improved even more since the last time I popped in which was three months ago. They’ve added a bookshop, lots more duty free stores, a big food village and customer service all round the airport which is excellent. Extremely helpful & friendly officers if you’re passing this way. I was here in the old days & now the new. Was fortunate to have seen airports like this one and also Dubai grow from smaller factions into rather monumental ones.

  • abramsuzan 7:58 pm on December 1, 2009 Permalink | Reply  

    Will be leaving for the airport soon. Sh… 

    Will be leaving for the airport soon. Should have a post on Friday.

  • abramsuzan 6:31 pm on November 30, 2009 Permalink | Reply  

    The Afternoon Visitor 

    by Susan Abraham

    “In a rare appointment, the full moon mounted up from nowhere to peer down at my balcony. At four in the afternoon, the skyscape still clung to a murky blue. The moon wore her anxious silver smile, lest she miss my Dublin departure and now hoped to stand precedence over my packing with expert eyes.
    For months, we had shared many a romantic rendezvous in the matchmaking twilight. Would I not accept her shaky reflection as a gift? I asked if she had forgotten her recent antics up Shira Hut on the Kili’s Machame route.
    Then decked in her necklaced halo, she had played hide-and-seek with the snowcap, acted the ghost with a ferocious howling wind and ballooned up to Jupiter size with monstrous ease as she teased fatigued climbers all night long. Now she stared longingly, tiny in her sadness, like a mother mute with love for a child.
    Only just now, a seagull had whistled on its way but stopped subdued in mid-flight. Bashful, the bird would pay silent homage to the sentiment that quickly unfolded before my misty eyes.”

    Images courtesy of

  • abramsuzan 4:00 pm on November 30, 2009 Permalink | Reply  

    I’m thinking of a space; a sacred corner… 

    I’m thinking of a space; a sacred corner, silent in the secret imagination where I could journey to all of the familiar with new eyes as if I had always been blinded until now.

  • abramsuzan 10:08 am on November 30, 2009 Permalink | Reply  

    I’ve changed in these last months and ad… 

    I’ve changed in these last months and adopted from somewhere still unknown, a calm exterior. No more evident is the tranquility than now, in the hours of what should be a gregarious movement and  isn’t happening.  Time will move me even as I rest in its pillowed bubble.  I suspect I will at the last minute, throw a few things into a case, ring for a taxi and be off to the airport.  In these last months, my worlds have merged and become one.  Tanzania is simply a home away from home. Returning to the Kilimanjaro, I wear the footsteps of someone returning to a friend. Des says I treat the entire episode as if I were simply popping into the shops.  Where is the fanfare, the  celebration of someone climbing a mountain? I say, it is there but inside of me, devoid of hysteria and to be worshipped privately.

  • abramsuzan 3:36 pm on November 29, 2009 Permalink | Reply  

    I thought how insightful it was on a CNN… 

    I thought how insightful it was on a CNN Inside Africa documentary today when it was pointed out that the Tanzanian safari wildlife were no longer afraid of people, cameras or jeeps. That’s so true, especially of elephants, lions & tiny monkeys who think nothing of coming up close for a curious inspection. Still,  flamingoes & hippos stay snobbish if not defensive while giraffes & impalas still appear meek and afraid.

Compose new post
Next post/Next comment
Previous post/Previous comment
Show/Hide comments
Go to top
Go to login
Show/Hide help
shift + esc