This is My Problem

I seem to recall a script from some insignificant Hollywood movie that quoted, ‘men are raised by their women…that is why they’re all so screwed up!” My response was…excuse me???

Chicken Rendang

Today, my husband assigned my second son to the task of monitoring our ‘rendang ayam’ (spicy chicken cooked in coconut and spice) while it simmer. This traditional Malay delicacy requires the dish to be kept on low fire until its soupy substance dries up and stick to the chicken. However, the boy was so absorbed or as the Malay call it - ‘taksub’, playing with the computer that he left the rendang on the stove to burn. Alas, his day of reckoning arrived when daddy discovered his complacency and complete lack of responsibility.

His punishment? My husband decided that he needed to clean up his mess. So, he was asked to get the burnt ‘rendang’ residue off of the ‘kuali’ (wok) or buy a new one with his pocket money. And mind you, our kitchen pots and pans are no joke! They burnt a hole in our pockets because we insist on safety and quality…so, you can imagine the size of the hole it could burn in a 9 year old’s pocket.

So, Nazyh, my son rolled up his sleeves and scrubbed the ‘kuali’. It was truly in a bad state and I felt sorry for my sweet but irresponsible baby. My heart reached out to him as he toiled and sweat over the ‘kuali’, all bony and scrawny after a month of Ramadhan, scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing.

It seemed to be quite a fruitless endeavor as the burnt stain stubbornly ‘laughed’ at his effort and stayed firmly on the face of the ‘kuali’. Each time he tried to wash the scrubbed burnt residue away, he wore a look of dismay as only little bits and pieces tore itself away from the surface. But, he seemed adamant. My mother, however, had enough of the torturous sight and offered to help.

To my surprise, Nazyh said, “Stop, this is my problem”, as he stopped my mother from intervening. I felt a surge of pride, but not so much at his strength; instead at his determination for taking ownership of his mistake and be responsible for his wrongdoing. As a mother, and with all my thoughts of failures, I felt that somewhere I did right by my son. It was one valuable lesson both my son and I learned, in our own ways. Him: taking responsibility, me: I taught him something good...not bad for a screwed up species (as accused by the bitter Hollywood scriptwriter).

For every successful man, there is a woman who had made him. Perhaps someday it will be his life partner. But for now, it’s mummy, and mummy is happy that she is doing a fairly good job. Too many men blame their women for their failures, but today my son just proved them wrong.

Whoever wrote that Hollywood script must have kept really lousy female company because very few mothers are willing to fail their children, neither are they willing to let their men loose their battles. And for those who were forsaken, there are tons to learn from my nine year old, or many other young minds raised by really good, strong women of substance.

I know I missed the day, but Happy Women’s Day my fellow womenfolks!

Accidental Friendship

Barney and Friends

Barney, the friendly singing purple dinosaur defines friendship simply with a hug and a kiss, and asking the friend to say he/she loves you too. How nice. Aristotle on the other hand says that friendship can be divided into three: 1) friendship based on mutual usefulness, 2) friendship based on pleasure and 3) friendship that wish good for the other qua good, the latter being non-dissolved because friends would accept one another for whoever they are and not for any incidental quality. My take to friendship is ultra confusion. I am still figuring it out.

I find the first two concepts by Aristotle blatantly practiced everyday; friendship is often fun and serves a common purpose or benefit. This sort of friendship is commonly displayed in corporate dinners as false and forced laughter thunders at horrendous jokes because the boss is talking; men and women forging friendship because the other has the right connections; men and women associating themselves to each other because of their good looks - after all birds of a feather are expected to flock to together, right?

I barely see friendship forged based on genuine kindness or set upon moral grounds. I don’t think many of us can understand the simplicity of committing to serve a provision of goodness to friends just because we can. Most would be genuinely surprised when people offer kind gestures as a token of friendship, and in the modern society, I conclude that too few can comprehend friendship in terms of giving unconditionally.

I once offered to drive a lady friend I haven’t seen since we graduated from high school home from a function. She thought it was so uncommon, she asked me why. I said, “Because I can. I have a car and you don’t”. Simple logic, right? My extension of friendship was taken in suspicion. Though I drove her home that night, I have not heard from her since. I thought it was amusing, given that we had a really good drive home; we chatted and exchanged so many jokes, but it ended as quickly as my driving services came to a halt.

Another girl whom I used to know in kindergarten lost her daughter in a tragic incident. I felt really bad for her and wanted to be there, just to show support. I can never imagine loosing a child so soon and so unexpectedly. I remembered her when we used to dance ballet as little girls, and how fond I was of playing with her. Until today, she can’t place me in her memory, but I went to the mourning event or ‘tahlil’ to say my prayers. When she saw me, she displayed genuine surprise at my presence that I wasn’t sure if I was welcomed, but I extended my arms and expressed my condolences. I never heard from her again either.

There were others in college, whom were such good friends until I suppose I outlived my purpose or start to pose grieve competition to their goals. I had a girlfriend who felt sorry for me, because I didn’t have many friends. She thought she was doing me a favor until her crush preferred keeping my company instead of hers. Suddenly, I was worth the gossip than the friendship. A guy friend whom studied with me, partied and hung out for many semesters suddenly couldn’t be a friend because he dated a girl who struck me out of the friend list for him…sigh.

Where is Everybody?

I learned by accident that friendship is so temperamental. It’s a painful truth that though we’d like to believe that friendship is a voluntary act at the most informal and personal setting, it still operates within the boundaries of social class, ethnicity, gender and age; this holds true more so for the female gender. It should be scientifically easy to deduce, but when human nature turns the eyes green with envy and the heart black with suspicion, it's hard to strike that simple friendship purple Barney sings about.

Though I had always dealt with being a loner and enjoyed my own company quite a bit with casual meetings of people I know at social gatherings, I wondered what it would be like to be someone’s friend. Then I realized, there is always a silver lining and God is just. I couldn’t find a friend who saw me for who I am, but he presented me with a sound family and loving husband: my best friend; my mother, my devoted and ultimate confidant; my four beautiful children, my unconditional source of undying love.

Isn’t life just so accidentally amusing? I'm someone's friend after all.

True Friends

The Unifying Bazaar

The Ramadhan month is in its last week and the anticipation of the Lailatul Qadar is in the air. Believers are stepping up their prayers and the observation of piety is heighten. Everyone is hoping to be chosen and receive that special blessing. I’d like to join in the chase but I figure it will be a while before my soul is redeemed, and that would be a different story set for a different time. But bless all of you and happy searching.

Still, Ramadhan is here and I realized that I have not visited the favorite Bazaar that seems to have such a unifying pull. I remember as a youth, I would just walk out of my door at Keramat and walk down the street, following the tummy-teasing aroma to a spread of a feast of delicious local delicacies. The Malays would say 'rambang mata' as your eyes dart from every possible corner, undecided while curbing the greed. You can spot some Western deserts, Arabian kebab and maybe some Sikh capati, but my favorite would be the traditional Malay deserts that you simply can’t find on regular non-Ramadhan days.

A Typical Ramadhan Bazaar

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Kueh Lapis

There’s the putu mayam, onde-onde, badak berendam, kueh kosui, tepung pelita, gula bakar, apam balik, abuk-abuk, apam balik, kueh keria, bubur lambuk, putu bambu, cakoi, bubur gandum, lepat ubi berinti, sago dan gula melaka, akok, lepa pulut, pulut panggang, fried popiah and popiah basah, and the list goes on

Onde-Onde

Crowding each booths are endless lines of Muslims observing their fasting and trying hard to refrain themselves from wastage; my favorite sight is my non-Muslim brethrens also enjoying the rare moments of traditional delights. I’d watch them looking curiously at the food and wondered what was what; the amusement of choosing and tasting; some more familiar to the palate than most, but returning everyday for a gastronomic adventure.

There, at the Ramadhan Bazaar I recall the sense of comradeship, togetherness and friendship, we, as Malaysians strive everyday. Sometimes it saddens me that we can’t hold on to that familiar sense of communal belonging beyond the bazaar’s boundary. Within the invisible boxed ‘village of food’, everybody was one: the hungry, the curious and the shopaholic; all arriving to one spot to enjoy a common goal - FOOD! But outside, we simply can't find a good reason to be trusting friends.

I was driving in a car with one of my clients and she was expressing her daughter’s excitement each time the Ramadhan month drew near, simply because of the anticipation of the Ramadhan Bazaar and I realized how simple unity could really be. I get excited too, and many other non-Muslim friends used to accompany me to shop food for 'berbuka'. How did it become so complicated that suddenly when we step out of the comfort of Ramadhan, we loose our sense of security and simple friendship. That simple bond of being in each others company choosing food.

In this week of seeking the Lailatul Qadar, I seek for that unifying factor of the Ramadhan Bazaar. Perhaps before the month ends, I will visit one bazaar and capture a moment…maybe something will show and teach us what it truly means to be 1Malaysia. The true comradeship we have with one another beyond the enjoyment of traditional delicacies in one Muslim Holy Month.

Fashion 101

Let’s not ever argue that fashion is forever and for a true fashionista every day is a ‘…but I have nothing to wear,’ day. Her wardrobe opens insights into decades of fashion’s trials and errors, success and slumps that could practically become a fashion 101 module. For a budding fashion buff, a fashionista’s wardrobe is a journey into the history of what-to-wear and how-to-wear and don’t-get-caught-dead lessons that would put a twirl in her man’s head and burn a hole in daddy’s pocket. I supposed I’ve over-exaggerated my description into the inevitable nightmare of looking good, but truth be told, that is only offering a simple peek into the labyrinth world named fashion.

It all starts with convincing the female gender that she needs different sets of attire for her home, her friends (which is compartmentalized into her colleagues, her acquaintances, her arch enemy, her boyfriend’s/husband’s ex, her best friend – past, present and future), and her work. This does not include the ad-hoc situations like the season and weather. Then, she has the time of day, the venue, and the purpose of wearing to worry about. Next, she’ll need to refer to the media’s advice of what to wear and what not to wear based on the choices celebrities make for that similar time, venue and purpose she is planning to dress for. Once that is settled, she needs to make sure that she’ll spend the next week starving herself to fit into a size ‘0’ because that is the ideal weight since Kate Moss strut the bloody runaway.

The task of looking good is nonetheless daunting, but make no mistake that fashionistas are a committed lot. Fashion magazines are their holy grail and its written words are scriptures not to be questioned! Famed women in the media become role models for ‘hungry’ fashionistas looking for the right idea to choosing the right outfit to meet that person, at that place and for that purpose. Despite the fact that fashionistas are mostly educated and professional women (the writer is over-generalizing here, again) who have for years learned that reading and making appropriate references result in informed choices; most of their role model portrayed religiously in the media didn’t finish school (again, the writer is over-generalizing and will not make any apologies for it). At this point, one should already begin to wonder what do we really do with our God’s given brain cells.

This brings us to the mind-boggling chapter in fashion 101, titled the diet fads that go hand-in-hand with looking good in the current pick of the month’s get-up. Which takes us back to why miss fashionista needs to get dressed. This depends on, again, who she is meeting, where she is going and for what purpose. So starving is a vital ingredient for looking good in a fashionable get-up.

There is a range of diet choices, which apart from starving our bodies from nutritional food items, now dieting also comes in understanding the blood type and ancestry line package – and mind you, the plans are not meant to be discriminatory but are all scientifically proven by some guy (or gal) who did go to school. He/she researched in some university based on a particular sample group and size which at most times are irrelevant to other parts of the globe’s geography and came up with a scientific conclusion of how to choose a diet.

By now, the wisest amongst us would already start to realize and calculate the amount of time, energy, brain cells and hard earned money spent fretting about making a fashion decision without yet buying this desired outfit. This excludes the time she is about to spend on either mall hopping or Internet browsing, before actually making a purchase, which also excludes the time for her to change her mind to return the goods within the next 7 working days. It doesn’t take a college going genius to figure out with the most basic math understanding that to be a fashionista, you’ll have no time for anything else. Maybe that is why their idolized models are rich or married someone rich or had once upon a time posed in only skin, while the loyal followers a.k.a fashionista are packing plastic, calculators and designer fakes.

I’m no genius but I smell conspiracy. The term fashionista (note that it is not found in any dictionary) is a very clever term coined by the very clever marketer to keep the female species preoccupied with the non-necessary and constantly broke but still yearning to look good.

Now, let’s get back to the basics of why we get dressed. Eve bit the apple and made the birthday suit quite embarrassing. So we get dressed to not be embarrassed. That’s it! Though granted that it is necessary not to under dress ourselves in rags or outdo ourselves in glittering delights, it is necessary to realize that looking good merely means feeling good about ourselves.

What is opposite of good is to invest time, energy and money to look like someone else caught on camera because she earns a bomb playing pretend on the silver screen, who most of the time may not even recognize the reflection in the mirror. Then, we emulate this confused being by making ourselves seen in the same get up which we spent the last month studying to only realize that almost everybody else who had done similar research based on the same newsstand references look exactly like YOU!

The point is, there is always something to wear in the wardrobe and even though the writer do pines every now and then about ‘not having anything to wear’, it has become a non-necessity to waste time and money fretting about ‘what should I wear’? Of course it is important to look good and a good understanding of what is latest keeps you away from dressing like mummy or granny. But, if you really study thoroughly, you’ll notice that fashion often makes a full circle. The trick is to make good investments when shopping, safe your favorite clothes (and sometimes mummy’s and granny’s more fashionable picks of their time) and put it back on when designers start calling them vintage! You see, fashion is forever and a wise fashionista would know by now that everlasting basics like whites, navy, brown and black, denim and some suits never go wrong and are often recycled. An educated and true fashionista would know by now that that is a wise and a well-done research.

Think! Think! Think!

It isn’t a revolutionary phenomenon that students deal with class materials as an isolated case. Applying information they learn on a daily basis is simply unheard of. I once wore an academician hat and knew that anything said in the classroom, stay boxed in the four-walled room, until the examination week when ‘information’ becomes the ‘stuff’ to be memorized for a satisfactory grade.

I was amongst those academicians whose students either ‘love to love’ or ‘love to hate’. Though I get rewarding comments from those who ‘loved’ me, I was getting too many Ds and Fs in classes to feel encouraged. I couldn’t understand why the students didn’t get it – that everything is applicable. I comforted myself that it couldn’t be solely my fault, but I did realized that it couldn’t be theirs either.

One fateful day, I reflected on the way the syllabus was designed and how teaching had become so mundane. I thought that maybe something WAS wrong and there was truth in what they say in the market – WE DON”T TEACH OUR KIDS ANYTHING THAT THEY REALLY NEED TO KNOW! We teach them theories that are completely detached from practice; we throw them case studies from Adams because it’s in the book but completely irrelevant to the fast evolving world, and we ask them to do projects they can’t relate to. Then, we asked them, “Do you understand?” What do you think is staring back blankly at you?

The reality is academicians forget too. The things they know today come so easily that they forget that they once were young and used to not know either. There was a time when they thought their lecturers were great muses and the ‘googly-gook’ talks about theories, facts and figures were irrelevant to their then ‘reality’. They laughed at their lecturers’ jokes, but see no connection between the joke and the classroom, which is a painful reality to their professor.

The simple fact is to relate the classroom to the reality. Find a way to connect theories to the things that impacts the lives of the students. For them to think critically, is to be able to associate theories to issues they are faced with daily; basics like incidents or phenomenon that are relevant to their lifestyle, like being a skeptic when trend setters changes the ideas of fashion’s do’s and don’ts or how to be attractive when dealing with a heartthrob.

As academicians, they should be creative and think out of the box. They need to come to terms that the young are quite egocentric and approaching their reality can be quite complex. But, if the young can’t relate to anything their lecturers are saying to them, the information has no impact on their lives. Consequently, everything the academician says flies over their head, while their head wonders off to la-la land. Now, wouldn’t it be practical to show the students how to think by first being a thinker?

One semester, while still a lecturer, I attempted the Problem-Based Learning approach in my Media Planning course. My students were exposed to theories but via case studies. They were expected to pick up every aspect of the course by attempting to analyze a case study via consultation hours with me and the media agencies. They were required to read, make relevant calls to media agencies that created the media campaign, argue facts from the case studies and defend their ideas for or against the decision executed by the media planners. They had three weeks to submit.

Panic struck them, because in three weeks, if they don’t read something relevant, make necessary calls and understand enough to apply; they can’t complete the assignment; which is15% of their grades! So, they read, they called, they asked and made the coursework relevant to their lives. They lived and breathed the case study and finally they understood.

Mission accomplished? Not exactly.

To be sure, I decided the students should attempt a media proposal for any single running campaign on campus, which required a ‘pitching’ presentation. My students who did well for the case study gave me a smirk and had the assignment’s initial work done without breaking a sweat. Students who performed averagely … went back to the basics, READ, and made more calls. Between the grading and re-grading of their work, the signs became more positive.

The realization that hit me was that students need to be given an opportunity to think. But, the initial steps must come from the academicians to care enough to make a change. At the rate academicians are ‘feeding’ are no longer synonymous to the famed spoon feeding phenomena, but more to what an ex-Program Director once said to me, “It’s breastfeeding!” The fact that she was well endowed, the statement was very becoming but I took it quite seriously.

What I really want to say is, teachers: stop vomiting what your teacher’s taught you and start critically thinking of ‘friendlier’ and more practical teaching methodologies. Get students to be independent. It’s time to unlatch and let them grow. On the other hand, students: please stop milking over worked teachers dry by taking ownership of your education. The world doesn’t owe you any favors. Grow up and get on your way. This is what you might want to call as the freedom to think.

Hire Me, I like People

In one of my many moments of weakness, I ranted that I'd send a gift in a form of a red palm stamp on anyone's cheek who claims Public Relations is all about glamor and fun. At that particular moment I was swamped with paperwork, research and a media story proposal to complete. To my surprise, I received more support than I anticipated. I guess the desire to slap just had to wait.

One of the responses by an ex-student, now a PR practitioner, "that's why candidates that come for interviews and say PR is about 'meeting people' get shown the door!" People still say that? If I was an interviewer, that interviewee would have been palm stamped!

Then again, a young girl once approached me and said she was looking for a career that would make her money 'quick! quick! quick! Then, in the same breath she said, "I heard PR people makes a lot of money!" I mentioned that PR practitioners make a lot of money after garnering years of experience, network and credibility; not immediately upon graduation. So, she asked me, "where can I meet a lot of people and make quick money, then?" I said, "GRO maybe a career of choice," and I meant that as a sharp tongue slap but instead she smiled as asked, "which school do I go to apply for that study?"

I blamed it on youth and ignorance, until my ex-student said, a fresh graduate was bored out of his wits 2 months into the job. He said, "I thought PR is like Sex and the City..." Hilarious as that may be, I almost felt sorry for the boy; he must've had the shock of his life...but I lied. I'm not sorry. His horrible shock in the face of reality was as good as delivering him a slap, because he wasn't young and he went to school to study PR, hence, not an ignoramus.

Apparently or not surprisingly (though annoying), many have a preconceived, miss-perceived, misguided and disillusionized idea of the PR field. Maybe it all boils down to perception and also, the people who fills the occupation. I know a pretty face, endless pair of legs and exposed skin (a lot of it), can get a potential interviewee a dream job in a PR department or even a firm, and actually keep it for many years. Surely, some will say that, that is an overgeneralization, but as a fresh graduate I experienced the poor misconception that PR is about party, booze and sex, first hand. When I first started, one of my management asked me to 'entertain' my CEO and make him happy. Use my PR skills, especially since I acquired it in the US...he hinted "boss tak bawa bini..." (The boss will not be bringing his wife along).

Some even gets confused between PR and event management, where only the latter runs around and organize parties and meet important people relevant to the events. The public genuinely believe that PR people get paid to rub shoulders with whos' who and party with celebrities. One of my journalist friend who moved to the 'darker side' and became a PR practitioner spent a couple of months into his job explaining to friends, family and acquaintances that he is not representing artistes and no, he does not know Datuk Siti Nurhaliza personally. Poor chap.

The reality of PR is far removed from glamor and power networking. Sure, when the opportunity presents itself, we party hard and we network hard - but that is not part and parcel of our daily routine. Basically, we start with a short meeting with colleagues/partners and breakdown the week's itinerary: client meetings, deadlines, proposals, business opportunities, etc are discussed. Then we disperse to check our emails, social network postings, tweets, google alerts, and try to fit in a few news articles relevant to our current projects. We try to read more while waiting for appointments, riding trains and taxis or while taking a dump (Don't judge me - TIME IS PRECIOUS!)

Unless we have dining appointments, we eat on the go, usually settling for quick sandwiches and coffee/tea in between reading our briefs and replying more emails. Then, night comes and we check our emails where a list of incomplete and new tasks awaits. Last night, I spent 4.5 hours transcribing a broadcast interview for a client so she could hear herself and read how she answered questions - to ease a personalized media training and avoid defensive confrontations. I slept at 3:00am.

Having said that...here's why PR people do what we do and would probably die still loving (ranting) the field. We don't think it's a nightmarish job! Why? We get to read, exchange ideas, be in the know, be at the edge of great discoveries, be part of a bigger picture, be behind a really great story and the list of excitement goes on...but most of all, always sharp witted with a sharp mind, sharpened only because we read, read, and read. Almost nothing escapes our observation. I'd like to think the wise chooses this career because it keeps our minds working around the clock. What else in the world pays you a handsome sum to become cleverer and wiser, by reading, studying and learning on the job?

Once at a conference, a mathematician approached me and said, "you are from the communications, right? There's no real theory that supports your work. You just organize parties and meet people. How nice!" My hands felt a sudden itch, but I managed to calm the urge to slap, successfully. After all, I am a PR professional and I am wise. I bowed my head and continued to read.

The Fairer Cause of Ills

Recently, a list of signs that the end of days was sent to me; I read it with keen interest. By the end of my reading I believed but disturbed. There were clear signs of moral decay, breaking of nations and civilizations, poor leadership and the possibility of miracles, which has yet to show itself; then there were the women issues.

Part of the enlightening list was a claim that the end of days would come when women are seen as clothed and yet are completely naked. Well, I’ve seen that. It’s everywhere in the print, broadcast and digital media. Technology has made it very easy to proof that this point has arrived, and hence, doomsday is approaching. The ‘strong’ and ‘independent’ women, however, claim it as their right to self-expression and, it is their bodies after all! The men agree, nod and oogle with delight; clap their hands in support.

Then it hit me that in most religion, men are held at the helm of leadership and responsibility. With mine stating that men are raised one level above his women due to the grave responsibilities set on his shoulders…so, wouldn’t the ‘naked’ women be his fault? Women are to be held at the highest pedestal. How has he failed his women that he could not keep them clothed? So, how is it that women shedding to their barest at the persuasion and support of men, are the fault for the ills of humankind; being a contributing fault (a sign) for doomsday’s approaching?

So, I thought perhaps the list of signs should be reworded as, “men, whom God has placed his dependents as his sole responsibility have failed to keep his women clothed; though they are deemed fully attired are left naked to the eyes of non mahram”. Better? I think so.

I can never understand why women are to blame for all the ills in the world. If the child is a bully, it’s the mother’s fault for not being a better mother. If a woman is harassed, it is her fault for dressing provocatively. If a daughter is abused, it’s the mother’s fault for being irresponsible. If the marriage fails, the wife is blamed for not knowing how to care for the husband and family. If a divorcee plans to date again, she is unworthy because she must be damaged goods to have been divorced in the first place. If a girl is friendly, she is a slut. Do I need to continue?

A Muslim expatriate, an ex-colleague of mine once said, the world would be a better place if women know their roles and responsibilities as the provider of honor; keeping the balance of life as an honest daughter, wife and mother. And here I thought that Muslim men ARE the keepers of honor. Yet, like most men cloaked in religious garments and hiding behind misinterpreted scriptures (an over-genaralization), they have passed the buck instead to their womenfolk who’s honor is supposed to be protected by them; the men who are their assigned protectors. Are you confused yet?

I think that the truth is that men want to have the cake, icing, and cherries on top, and eat the entire cake by himself, but he does not want to take the responsibilities of actually baking it. And if he did try, but the cake didn’t rise or gets burned, he doesn’t want to admit his ignorance, so he’d point his fingers to his mother for not teaching him; his sisters for not supporting and helping him; his wife for not being a better partner by showing him how to manage the oven and his daughters for not loving him enough to just show him the respect he deserves as the man of the house and eat the bloody cake, anyway! I call that an irresponsible brat!

I think doomsday is coming and I don’t really care when, because God is just. He will not forsake those who have diligently listened and followed his guide. I think that those keeping an eye on signs of doomsday are the cowardly, because they’ve been really irresponsibly naughty. I think men know that they have failed their dependents, their women and daughters, so he feels compelled to write a list and share the responsibilities by passing the buck around.

However, I believe that there is another face to men. Responsible men are confident of his deeds and receive what is coming with an open heart because he’s done his job. I am confident, God willing, his dependence has absolutely nothing to be worried about; they’re well clothed.