
RM1 million boost for Kampung Temerlok through MMEA community programme
IPOH: A total of RM1 million has been allocated for the development of Kampung Temerlok in Trong, near Taiping, under the MADANI Adopted Village initiative carried out by the Malaysian Maritime Enforcement Agency (MMEA).
MMEA director-general Admiral Maritime Datuk Mohd Rosli Abdullah said the agency's efforts now extend beyond maritime security, with a renewed focus on uplifting inland rural communities.
'Today, MMEA proves that our role goes beyond safeguarding the seas. We are also committed to serving the people through community-based programmes and targeted outreach efforts,' he said during the MMEA's Qurban and Spiritual programme held in the village today.
Among the five key projects to be funded through the special allocation from the Finance Ministry is the construction and repair of the Sungai Tok Lin fishermen's jetty, a vital economic lifeline for local fishermen.
Other projects include roof repairs at Al-Mahmudiah Religious School, refurbishment of the Flood Relief Centre at Sekolah Kebangsaan Temerlok, maintenance and repair works at Masjid Al-Mahmudiah, and cleaning of the mosque grounds and the nearby Muslim cemetery.
Masjid Al-Mahmudiah also received two air-conditioning units, installed in its meeting room.
More than 150 MMEA personnel took part in a gotong-royong (communal work) with villagers to spruce up the village, mosque, and cemetery.
Mohd Rosli added that the agency also donated three cows for the Aidiladha sacrificial rites, with meat distributed to 200 residents, including senior citizens, single mothers, and underprivileged families.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Malaysiakini
14 hours ago
- Malaysiakini
Who am I when the media is watching?
LETTER | Every day, I wake up and scroll. Before I even brush my teeth, I've already seen someone's vacation in parts of the world that I have never been, a viral clip from yesterday, a girl unboxing the latest phone, and a stranger's opinion on why Gen Z is 'too soft'. Yes, it's exhausting, but let's face it: It's addictive and impossible to ignore. This is the media world I grew up in. Not just consuming it, but being shaped by it. Whether we realise it or not, the media tells us who to be, what to care about, and how we should show up in the world. And for many of us in this generation, our identity is still being negotiated under the constant gaze of likes, shares, and filters. I sincerely believe that the media is not inherently evil. In fact, it's one of the most powerful tools of our time. Through platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube, I've learned about cultures I've never visited, ideas I've never encountered, and stories I would never hear on mainstream news. Media has connected me to communities that affirm who I am - as a Southeast Asian youth, as a Muslim, as someone navigating life between tradition and modernity. It's allowed many of us to share our cultures with pride, to reclaim languages that were once mocked, and to talk about mental health, gender, or faith with honesty. And most importantly, it has given a platform to young people who, in the past, would have remained invisible. But here's the catch: media also fragments who we are. We curate the best version of ourselves online. We post the wins, the aesthetic angles, the achievements, and the carefully selected quotes. But what about the in-between moments? The confusion, the insecurity, the loneliness, or the cultural expectations we quietly carry. These parts of our identity don't always fit into a 15-second video or a neatly filtered Instagram post. When I was younger, I used to think the media was just a reflection of the world. But now I see that the media actually 'creates' the world. And more importantly, our place in it. It tells us whose stories matter. Whose beauty is valid? Whose struggles are 'trending', And often, those of us from small towns, minority backgrounds, or non-Western cultures don't see ourselves represented at all. Or worse, we're reduced to stereotypes. So, how do we resist this pressure to perform? How do we reclaim our image when the media constantly tries to define us? I believe it starts with intentional storytelling. Instead of copying what gets the most views or what the algorithm prefers, we need to ask ourselves: What story do I want to tell? What version of myself feels honest? For me, that means being real. Be it about my language, my background, my struggles with identity, or my hopes for the future. It means showing up online the same way I do offline: imperfect, but real. It also means creating space for others to do the same. We need more platforms that allow young people to express themselves without fear of being judged or misrepresented. We need media that uplifts diverse voices. Especially those who have been historically silenced or sidelined. Whether it's a podcast in a local dialect, a photo essay on hijabi skaters, or a TikTok explaining rural traditions, our generation needs to tell our own stories, in our own way. Finally, we need to remember that identity is more than an aesthetic. It's a journey. It's okay not to have everything figured out. We don't need to fit into a single brand, label, or algorithm to be valid. So the next time I catch myself asking, 'Am I enough?' because of what I see online, I will pause. I will breathe. I will remind myself: I'm not just content. I'm a person. A generation is watching. But more importantly, we are watching ourselves. Let's make sure the version we see, and more importantly, the version we share, is real. The author is an undergraduate student of Universiti Malaya. The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of Malaysiakini.


New Straits Times
4 days ago
- New Straits Times
Round-the-clock carer: One woman's battle for her family's survival
KOTA TINGGI: A housewife's daily life is a testament to her resilience, as she provides round-the-clock care for her bedridden husband and their youngest son, who is battling a range of serious medical conditions. Parini Masiran, 49, said her 14-year-old son, Muhammad Aqiel Asyraaf Zamri, was born with multiple health complications, including cerebral palsy, chronic lung disease, hyperactivity, gastroesophageal reflux and growth problems. "He requires close supervision and special care," she said. To add to the burden, her husband Zamri Daud, 57, was left unable to walk after a severe joint inflammation during Ramadan. He was terminated from his job as a security guard and is now awaiting approval for invalidity pension from the Social Security Organisation (Perkeso). "It started with swelling in his knee , however the inflammation worsened and now he's fully reliant on a wheelchair. I have to help him to the bathroom daily," she said. Despite the weight of caring for a disabled husband and a chronically ill son, Parini still clings to hope and faith. Her family survives on just RM900 in monthly aid. Parini said her family relies solely on the RM900 financial assistance from Baitulmal and the Social Welfare Department. RM400 goes to their household expenses, while RM500 is for her special needs child Aqiel. "Doctors once said he would not live long, but Aqiel is now 14. "He needs around RM1,500 every month for his milk, adult diapers and medical care. We get by because the house is fully paid for, but everything else is bare minimum." Parini has three children. One is still in Form Four while her eldest son is married and has his own responsibilities. "There's just enough for food," she said. "I can't take up work – I have to be home for Aqiel and my husband, however, to make additional income I sell kuih and banana chips when I can. Despite her hardship, she still wears a smile. "As a mother, we must be strong. Life and death are god's will, but we don't stop trying," she added.


Sinar Daily
5 days ago
- Sinar Daily
What happens to qurban meat? Understanding its journey and meaningful distribution
Qurban isn't just about sacrifice. It's about distribution. The journey of Qurban meat is perhaps the most beautiful part of the ritual, a chain of giving that reflects Islam's deep concern for equity and care for the poor. Photo by Canva FROM choosing the right animal to making sure the meat reaches the right hands, Qurban isn't just about sacrifice. It's about distribution and fulfilling an amanah (trust) that extends far beyond the slaughter site. Federal Territories Mufti, Sahibus Samahah Datuk Prof Madya Dr Luqman Abdullah, shared a clear guide on the right way to perform qurban, and the responsibilities that come after, the respectful handling of the meat, the fair distribution, and the deeper intention behind every step. The first lesson is clear: not every animal qualifies as a qurban offering. Only certain livestock are eligible such as camels, cows, buffaloes, goats, and sheep. Wild animals like deer or wild buffaloes are not allowed. Both males and females can be offered, whether they're fertile or castrated. But the eligibility doesn't stop at type, it goes deeper. The Mufti reminds us that animals must be healthy, well-fed, and free from any physical defects. That means no limping, no blindness, no broken horns, and certainly no signs of emaciation. There are even age guidelines: Camel: At least 5 years old Cow or Buffalo: At least 2 years old Goat: At least 2 years old Sheep: At least 1 year old or must have shed its front teeth This ensures the animal is mature enough, physically and symbolically for the sacred act of sacrifice. The Act of Slaughter: A Test of Skill, Faith, and Compassion Contrary to popular belief, the act of slaughter isn't just a physical ritual, it's a spiritual responsibility. 'Before the blade even touches the skin. Intention (niat) must be made,' said the Mufti. Whether it's a sunnah qurban or one that was nazar (vowed), the slaughterer must be a sane, practising Muslim, armed not just with a sharp knife but also deep understanding and respect. From choosing the right animal to making sure the meat reaches the right hands, Qurban isn't just about sacrifice. It's about distribution and fulfilling an amanah (trust) that extends far beyond the slaughter site. Photo: Canva Here's how the act unfolds: The animal is laid gently on its left side, facing the qiblah. It is restrained but never harmed, using proper tools. The slaughterer recites 'Bismillah Allahuakbar' and sends blessings upon the Prophet SAW. The knife is then swiftly drawn across the neck, cutting the trachea, oesophagus, and both major arteries. And in the quiet that follows, the du'a is whispered: 'Allahumma inna hadza minka wa laka fataqabbal minni' ('O Allah, indeed this is from You and for You, so accept it from me.') The emphasis here is on speed, mercy, and precision so the animal does not suffer, and the act remains dignified. What Happens to the Qurban Meat After the Slaughter? If you've ever wondered where Qurban meat goes after the sacrifice, you're not alone. The journey of Qurban meat is perhaps the most beautiful part of the ritual, a chain of giving that reflects Islam's deep concern for equity and care for the poor. But here's a key distinction: not all Qurban meat is treated the same. If one cow is shared among seven people, some performing wajib (obligatory) qurban, others doing sunnah qurban or even aqiqah, it becomes vital to separate the shares according to their intention. Why? Because: Wajib Qurban meat must be fully distributed to the needy Sunnah Qurban allows the owner to consume a portion Aqiqah meat has its own separate rulings Don't Sell the Skin (or Any Part of It) There are strict boundaries around what can be done with qurban parts, especially when it comes to payment. As explained by classical scholar Sheikh Zakaria al-Ansari, it is haram to sell any part of the qurban animal including the skin, horns, or even giving them as payment to the butcher. Instead, the owner may keep the hide for personal use or gift it to someone who can benefit from it, while any parts of the animal that are unusable should be respectfully buried. When done correctly, Qurban is more than just a ritual. It's a lesson in sacrifice, discipline, compassion, and community. It reminds us that faith isn't just about prayers or fasting, it's about how we care for others, especially those with less. So this Eid al-Adha, when the blade meets flesh and the takbir fills the sky, remember: the qurban is not just what you give up—but what you give forward.