THIS past year has weighed heavily on many of us. The pandemic and other grim news can feel overwhelming, but small moments of joy that we stumble upon unexpectedly have tremendous power to lighten the load.
The world could use a pick-me-up, I mused not too long ago. And just like that, a message suddenly pinged on my phone. "My friend runs a small charity called Project Jannah and they've been helping a housewife who had to pull her children out of school due to financial woes."
I perk up, grabbing hold of my phone. Another message pings again. "They're encouraging her to start a business and they've bought her equipment and supplies."
He forwards a message that seems to be a rallying call to help: "Calling all caring Malaysians! Ms Suganya was among the many who had to raise the white flag back in July 2021 requesting for help during the stringent Covid times. Project Jannah (with the help of donors) has sent much-needed groceries for her and her family. Her husband who works as a lorry assistant was jobless for one year as his services to unload besi buruk (scrap metal) weren't required during the recent lockdowns. We visited Suganya recently and learnt that she has stopped sending her children to the Tamil school because textbooks were expensive and their transportation costs to ferry them to and from school were also very expensive."
The message continued: "We also realised that groceries handouts aren't going to sustain her for long. It was then that we found out Suganya is actually very skilled! She can make nasi lemak, donuts, karipap and mee hoon! Project Jannah will raise some capital for her. We advised her to send her children back to school once she gained some income from her sales. So here we are, almost one week later — Suganya will be setting up a stall to sell her food. All cooking items have been sponsored by donors! Please come and support her! Boost Suganya's morale! Grab a donut! Janji Suka! (A definite like!) You can waze your address to Block BK. Her stall is located near the bus stop right in front of Block BK."
Nasi lemak? Donuts? Who could say no to that? Who could say no to witnessing acts of kindness that go beyond race, religion and creed? In an increasingly globalised world, where human suffering is more visible than ever, compassion offers us a compass to navigate our way towards a deeper understanding of humanity. Project Jannah, a Muslim charity group, seems to be leading the way in lending a helping hand where it's needed most.
Moral compass or not, thoughts about food guide my way all the way to Pandan Indah one bright sunny Saturday morning. I mean, who can resist a good nasi lemak? Diet aside, if it's for a good cause, I'm all in.
It's 40 minutes later and I'm wondering where exactly is Suganya's stall. I look at the directions on Waze and look up again. I've been circling around the maze of nondescript crumbling flats for about 20 minutes and they all look identical to me.
Where IS Block BK? The peeling faded paint on the side of most of the flats here are mostly indiscernible. The roughly stamped, weather-beaten blocks of concrete would strike most people as untidy and cramped; a far cry from the modern steel-glass buildings of Kuala Lumpur's golden triangle barely 15 minutes away. It feels like an incongruous place to find a heart-warming story, I muse to myself as I get out of my car.
I finally manage to find the bus-stop in front of Block BK after walking around and sweating under the blazing midday sun. Suganya's stall is nowhere in sight. Squinting, I glance at my phone again and walk through the maze of flats.
There's a shroud of silence hanging ominously around these buildings that loom up all around me. I pass a lone macaque tied on the front porch of one of the ground floor flats, and it watches me listlessly.
Any landmark? I finally send a WhatsApp in desperation. "Are you anywhere near a coconut stall?" a reply flashes back.
What coconut stall? Two Indian aunties chatting quietly outside by one of the flats look up at me curiously. There's no coconut stall anywhere near me. I squint at the side wall of one of the blocks: BG, it reads, in faded black paint.
Decrepit buildings, cramped roads with parked cars flanking each side, and old aunties who are now staring suspiciously. I'm clearly looking like a fish out of water. I should ask them for directions but I stop myself, feeling more than a little embarrassed that my grasp of Tamil is barely rudimentary at best. And their baleful glares aren't exactly welcoming either.
"I'll come get you," another message flashes on my phone and I sigh in relief. Barely five minutes later, a slight figure emerges from one of the apartment blocks and waves at me from a distance. "Thank you for coming all the way!" Nabila Kamarudin greets me with a bright smile.
HELPING HAND
"I couldn't find Suganya's stall," I tell her half-reproachfully.
Nabila nods apologetically. "It's been tough for Suganya," she begins as we walk together. The young housewife found herself having to deal with gangsters who ate her food without paying and then told her to move her stall elsewhere. "We've encouraged her to sell from her home instead," continues the young woman as we navigate through endless dank corridors.
Slowing down, she nods her head towards another flat where there's a faded sign hanging out in front. It was yet another family selling food at the flat. "They've been pretty upset that Suganya's been selling food as well," she tells me, voice low.
A few days ago, they created a commotion outside the housewife's flat and told her to stop plying her trade. Nabila sighs again and shakes her head. These are desperate times when people are literally fighting to put food on the table and make ends meet.
"Look!" she points at one of the windows up on the building. A young woman peers out and waves at us. "That's Suganya. We'll be meeting at her home," says Nabila.
We pass an overflowing garbage bin and I hold my breath for a while before we finally reach yet another flight of stairs. The sunlight doesn't quite reach this part. It's dark, grimy and the faint stench of the garbage bin follows us as we climb up. Faint music comes out from one of the lots. The door is open wide and there seems to be a flurry of activity inside.
"Hello!" "Hi!" A chorus of welcome comes from a few people who look just as out of place in the small cramped flat. There's a table right in the middle and trays of chocolate-covered donuts are stacked in rows on it. Masked and gloved, they're dipping the fried donuts in chocolate and packing them in paper bags with a card clipped on the side.
"Janji Suka!" it read with Suganya's number, the range of food items and their prices printed on it. "Advertising!" sings Nadiah's friend, Foo Hui Yin, as she dips the donut into the chocolate ganache with flourish. Foo's husband, Khairul Ariffin, grins as he fiddles with his camera. They're involved with Janji Suka and are here to lend a hand and help Suganya kickstart her business.
There's a bundle of name cards on the table. These are Suganya's business cards, points out Nabila with pride. "The design and artwork are done by Foo," she tells me. Suganya's children peer out curiously. "These are her older children. The youngest who's only 4 is at her sister's place. It's easier for her to work this way without distractions," explains Nabila.
Suganya is at the kitchen cooking. There have been orders for her nasi lemak so she's trying to fulfil those orders, her hair tied in a messy bun as she stirs a pot of sambal. The donuts on the table had been paid for, Foo tells me, before adding: "We're going to go around the flats distributing these for free. A little advertising for Suganya of course!"
They're doing what they can to help the 31-year-old housewife make ends meet. "Handouts will only get her so far, but giving her the opportunity to earn a living is far more important," Nabila tells me, smiling.
They don't encourage dependence, she stresses. Project Jannah is simply responding to the reality of food poverty. "What we have now is a situation where donations are token contributions to people's needs. So, it's not a problem that's going away until some of the wider economic issues change," she explains.
LIGHT IN THE DARK
Suganya's plight was dire and painful to read about. The young couple with four children had no money and she was down to feeding her children with plain porridge for three days. Her situation caught the eye of the 32-year-old lawyer.
Explains Nabila: "We just want to help and this project has been a real eye-opener. You know poverty is out there, but you don't always see it. So, to speak to mothers who can't afford food for their children, it can be heartbreaking. We try to be a friendly face, as well as provide the help they need."
They responded to her call for help by donating groceries. "We responded to the need first. Then we felt we needed to do something more." The Janji Suka initiative was initiated by Nabila and assisted by Foo and Khairul. Within 24 hours, Project Jannah managed to raise RM1,500 and the funds were used to purchase cooking utensils and ingredients to kickstart Suganya's business.
There were also donors who donated a blender, foldable table as well as a marketing stamp and banner. "All revenue earned by Suganya goes fully towards her," says Nabila, adding with a little pride: "Just last week, four law firms had a combined order of 200 donuts, 100 nasi lemak packets and Suganya successfully fulfilled that order."
Her sparkling eyes hint at her hand in rallying law firms to help give Janji Suka a gentle nudge to get moving. She grins and shrugs her shoulders when I point that out.
It seems like an incongruous mix and a little rare these days, I admit a little shamefacedly, that a group of young Muslims would combine their efforts, energy, and genuine concern to help a Hindu housewife in need.
She winces a little at my observation and sighs. "We want to change the conversation," she ventures to explain after a brief silence. "We think Muslims can contribute to society in a way that advances opportunity for all people." Jannah is another word for paradise in Arabic, she schools me, adding: "We believe in a lifestyle of doing good that transcends religion and creed. We're Malaysians after all."
The #benderaputih, or white flag, campaign exploded on social media last year, to help lower income families signalling distress. The emotional stories of families with depleted savings struggling to put food on their tables touched Nabila deeply. "We realised that help wasn't coming fast enough and was not going to be able to cover everyone, especially immigrants and marginalised communities."
The "we" that Nabila is referring to is Qistina Ayu Rozhan and herself. "We're from the same book club actually," she reveals, grinning impishly. Book club? "It's an Islamic book club," she clarifies, chuckling, adding drolly: "It's a modern book club for modern Muslim girls like me who doesn't wear a hijab!"
The "ladies only" book club is called "The Getaway", she tells me blithely. It's a club where they read and discuss books by Muslim scholars in the bid to search for meaning and strengthen their faith. Why? I press.
Her eyes grow misty. "I think I got to an age where I started to want more meaning to my life," confides Nabila before proceeding to explain that the turn to faith and God was an appropriate time to ponder questions of meaning amid the welter of death and suffering worldwide.
A pandemic sharpens the permanent questions of theodicy, the debates over whether it's reasonable to believe in a good and loving God in a world so rife with misery, and the need to redefine their faith in these uncertain and changing times.
"Life was overwhelming me at one point," she admits softly. She found herself seeking for God and solace when things got difficult at work. "I was emotional, feeling like I needed something deeper to hold on to during hard times. Work was hard, my relationship with my then boyfriend was rocky and I felt like I was in this dark place. At some point, it felt natural to turn back to God," continues Nabila.
The small group of women got together and began exchanging views about faith and God. "Reading and talking about Islam with my girlfriends touched the heart in a way that the usual agama (religious) classes back in school didn't," she admits.
They'd meet up, cook, sit down and discuss books and religion, while their husbands were sequestered elsewhere, she reveals with another laugh. The topic on giving was of course something the women discussed.
"We all understood that in all religions, including Islam, doing good deeds is often talked about. Whatever rezeki you gain, you're supposed to give back at least half," she explains, before quipping: "But we were all so used to giving to Zalora (online shopping portal)!"
We break into laughter. "I've been pretty selfish for the past 30 years," she admits sheepishly. "It was time to bertaubat (repent)."
They started small. They'd target small food businesses, buy their food products and donate these to the poor. "It was a win-win thing. We'd buy and support local vendors and donate these food items to the poor," shares Nabila.
Adding, she says: "We found that there were people, mostly comprising our friends and family, who were willing to give and had the means to help. We decided to start a charitable movement funded by donations that would be channelled to the needy."
Project Jannah was birthed last year. "We thought that it'd be a temporary project but it's still going on one year later!" she says, shaking her head.
Suganya's case caught their attention early in the year. "Look, we just want to help anyone who needs it. It doesn't matter where you come from and who you are. The Quran doesn't discriminate, so why should we?" she asks.
Suganya was in urgent need of food provisions and medication for her third son who became an epileptic as a result of being born premature. "The antibiotics provided by the hospital made his teeth rot. She had no money for medication so I spoke to a few friends and found the right medication that helped him better," reveals Nabila.
A pause, and she continues: "What we love about Suganya is the fact that she's never asked for money. All she wanted was a chance to earn a living so she could support her family."
Suganya soon enters the hall and greets me with a shy smile. With my broken Tamil, we manage to have a brief conversation. Her eyes tearing, she tells me: "This Akka helped me a lot. She encouraged me to earn for myself and my family."
Waving at her children, she continues: "At least now I have money to help with the expenses. I'll be sending my children to school soon now that I have enough to buy their text books."
The challenges ahead remain uphill. Her husband Kesavan had met with an accident not too long ago and lost his job during the lockdowns last year. He's recently gotten back to work but the rising costs make it a struggle for the young family to make ends meet.
"I've also got my bedridden mother-in-law to care for. It's not easy but I'm very grateful to them for lending a hand," she says, looking at Nabila and her friends. "At least I have hope that I can earn something. My husband is also very supportive and grateful for this new business."
It was time to leave. "Take a donut! Want to try her nasi lemak?" they urge. I order three packets of nasi lemak. Suganya carefully packs and hands them to me in a plastic bag. "Thank you," she tells me simply when I pay her. Her eyes well with unshed tears again.
The trio pack up two baskets of donuts and walk me to my car at the end of the street. In the meantime, they stop passers-by and gaily give them a packet of donuts, telling them to contact Suganya if they want to order food. Who can resist donuts that sunny afternoon?
"Assalamualaikum!" Nabila's voice rings out blithely as she approaches an elderly Malay man seated outside his flat. "You can have this when you break fast later. If you want more, please contact the phone number on the card!" she tells him in Bahasa. He accepts the paper bag and smiles widely.
As I walk to my car, I can still hear their voices ringing out gaily as they go on to distribute donuts around the flats. A lot of people begin to mill around the trio, accepting paper bags with wide smiles.
Thanks to Project Jannah, hope can come in the form of a chocolate-covered donut.
For details on Project Jannah, go to www.instagram.com/projectjannah2021.
To order your favourite nasi lemak, mee hoon or donuts, contact Suganya at +601116323135.