On Writing

Life in oil and gas industry is very hectic now that oil price is above USD60 a barrel. I barely find time to read and even less to write. But when the urge comes I have to put my pen to paper (or rather fingers to keyboard!) and let out what is going on in my mind. I suppose because I am not a man of spoken words, I have to somehow release what I have to say in writing. That’s what got me into writing. I started writing on irregular basis (whenever I feel like it) when I was a student abroad, about 10 years ago. When I did my post-graduate degree, I was left alone by my undergraduate friends who had gone back home right after their graduation. There was plenty of time for me to read, ponder and observe. I was also fortunate to live in a university town with whole community associated with academic life.

I started reading non-engineering stuff after spending so much time during my undergraduate years staring at figures and equations. So that was how I developed my interest in reading which I have kept alive ever since. Reading has helped me a lot in improving my language skills. I read anything that I can lay my hands on, whenever I have free time (which is not much these days), and wherever my absolute focus is not required somewhere else (like while driving or talking to a beautiful woman!). My best companion while reading is a good dictionary. If I come across an unfamiliar word more than twice, I will stop and look it up in the dictionary. I am a poor memorizer but if I can remember 2 or 3 out of 10 new words that I come across I would call it a success.

I believe no matter how technical (in engineering/scientific sense) a person is, deep inside her, there is the “art” side. Some people express their creativity in making music, writing songs, lyrics, novels, painting etc. I suppose mine is just writing about myself. If I was younger I would probably sign up for Akademi Fantasia! If I had good looks I would probably try my luck at acting. After all, singers and actors seem to be the Idols of the young these days! If I was a rich divorced businessman with killer moustache, better still I would probably marry an attractive young singer and invite a TV station to telecast my wedding live! But I am just ordinary man trying to raise a family.

I don’t know what I want to do yet. One moment I am thinking of working overseas and earn more money. Some of my friends have already packed up their bags and flown west to the Middle East. Some take the risk and venture into their own business. Some just stay here and simply run through the 9 to 5 routines. I stepped out of my comfort zone last year by leaving big and established company to join an engineering consultancy. I think that taught me some lessons in taking risks in life. In time, I hope it will prove to be a good decision.

Kajang
21/9/2006

Stories from My Childhood

The other day I was scanning my old photos on a newly bought scanner after years of neglect and in danger of fading into oblivion. I had planned to do it for quite some time but never really enforced unto myself any definite deadline. But I had lost a lot of my old colour photographs. Over time the chemical used in processing the photos reacted with moisture in the air and slowly eating up the colours. All of my secondary school days memories captured on camera are now gone. So are those of my undergraduate days in London back in the late 80s and early 90s. Now I have to visit my friends during those years and look at their pictures hoping that I am somewhere in there if I wanted to glance back into my younger days. Fearing the same fate would befall the memories of my research days, I decided not to put the photos in albums. My decision proved to be right as most of the pictures of me riding my bike to the turbomachinery research lab are still untouched. I hope my new scanner will save the day and whatever is left of my photos will be preserved for my children to see.

As I was flipping through the dust covered photo albums, I laid my eyes on a black and white photo dated around early 70s. Perhaps because of different chemical used on the paper, it was not affected by the same process that had destroyed my other colour pictures. It was a picture of me at about four years old sitting on a mengkuang mat, looking down with my left hand touching my little sister. The day was hot and the photo session took place in front of a coconut tree just outside our wooden house. I was shy of the camera but my little sister stared straight into the lens. My mother made me wear a worn out shirt and shorts, probably the best my parents could afford at that time. Draped around my sister’s neck is a locket attached to a gold necklace. In those days it was not just mere ornament but more importantly a means of survival to be taken to a pawn shop whenever we ran out of rice. And I imagine my family must have lived through days and months without the necklace during rainy seasons when my parents could not work on the rubber trees. It must have been tough living through the days when our daily survival hung on that piece of gold kept in a pawn shop. Sitting on the mengkuang mat, I could not look into the camera even with constant request from the cameraman. I remember the cameraman was a travelling photographer who went to our village from house to house selling his service. I imagine it must be an unnecessary indulgence to get a family portrait in those days considering the same money could be used to buy the family dinner. But I am glad my parents made that decision. The memory is still with me and I will be able to pass it on to my children.

I have moved places quite a lot since the picture was taken more than 30 years ago. Some years ago, I visited the place again. The kampong is now barely recognizable; it’s now part of the rapidly expanding township. The sight of buffalos bathing in mud ponds in the paddy fields is now replaced with rows of terraced houses. The old sawah padi, which used to fetch a few hundred ringgit a piece is now going at tens of thousands. The piece of land on which my family’s wooden house was built is now taken by TNB for the National Electricity Transmission Grid. Whole neighbourhood had to make way for the Grid. It was not my parents land; it belonged to my uncle. We were allowed to live and work the land, but the land title was not in our name. The places where I had spent my early childhood are now covered with bushes and shrubs spanned by long overhead cables carrying high voltage electricity. Unless you are an archaeologist out on an excavation trip, it’s hard to notice even traces of past human activities there. No sign that families had actually grown up there. I walked up to an old man cutting grass for his cows and introduced myself to him. He did not recognise me but said it rang a bell when I reminded him about my father. He asked about my father who was waiting in my car parked close to the main road. I told him that my father was not well enough to walk up this far. The man sent his best regards to his old friend and neighbour and I left him there to continue reaping grass for his cows. I continued to walk, trying to find traces of our old wooden house. Later I realised nothing existed anymore except in my own memory. I took a long deep look at my childhood playground, snapped a few pictures and slowly headed back to my car. As it turned out, it was the last time I took my father to visit his old farm and the place where he raised me as a small boy. His health condition never improved and he died a year later.

The place in the old picture is no longer there. I don’t know what eventually happened to the necklace. Perhaps, there were times when things got so tough that my parents had to just let it go. The mat probably became so worn out later that it had to be thrown away. The shirt and shorts that I wore that day probably met the same fate. But the picture somehow survived to tell stories from my childhood.

Kajang
8 September 2006

Merdekakah kita?

Kebelakangan ini saban hari di kaca TV, di akhbar dan di Internet berita pembunuhan umat Islam di seluruh dunia disiarkan seolah-olah mereka dilahirkan untuk dihina, dicap sebagai pengganas dan dibunuh sewenang-wenangnya. Di Lubnan, Palestin dan Iraq negara mereka dijajah dan perang saudara berleluasa. Negara mereka dipecah-pecahkan, suku kaum yang berlainan dilaga-lagakan supaya mereka senang untuk diperintah. Taktik kotor penjajah British pada kurun ke-19 yang memecah dan memerintah diulang tayang semula di negara Arab oleh penjajah baru Amerika. Kalau dulu alasannya menyebarkan agama Kristian dan peradaban Barat kepada dunia Timur yang kuno dan mundur, kini ia diadun semula dengan kulit demokrasi, kebebasan dan perang melawan pengganas. Kalau dulu muslihatnya ialah untuk mendapatkan bahan mentah dan membuka pasaran baru, kini habuannya adalah kuasa ke atas minyak dan sumber tenaga dunia. Mereka semua adalah sama. Tapi kita tidak dapat berbuat apa-apa kerana mereka menguasai segala-galanya. Kuasa media digunakan untuk mengaburi mata dunia, ekonomi untuk mendesak sokongan dan ketenteraan untuk menghapuskan negara Islam. Aku rasa rakyat biasa dan umat Islam sedar akan penipuan ini, namun kita tidak dapat berbuat apa-apa. Tangan dan kaki, mulut serta telinga pemimpin-pemimpin kita diikat lalu mereka bagai lembu dicucuk hidung yang akan mengikut saja apa yang diperintahkan oleh tuan mereka walaupun rakyat menderita.

Sebagai individu yang lemah apa yang boleh kita buat? Ramai antara kita lupa bahawa kita sebenarnya menyokong ekonomi mereka dengan menggunakan produk-produk mereka. Apa kata kalau kita semua sedar dan bersatu untuk memulaukan barangan mereka dan berubah menggunakan produk alternatif dari negara-negara yang tidak memusuhi Islam? Ini sajalah usaha yang dapat kita lakukan di dalam keadaan serba kekurangan sekarang. Sedarkah kita bahawa banyak produk yang mereka perkenalkan kepada kita sebenarnya tidak diperlukan untuk kelangsungan hidup. Siapa perlukan kopi Starbucks yang berharga RM10 secawan sedangkan pekerja ladang kopi di tempat asal bahan tersebut di Colombia hanya diupah RM10 sehari? Siapa perlukan burger McDonalds sedangkan nenek-moyang kita dulu dapat hidup sehingga 80 tahun tanpa pernah mengidamkan makan daging dengan roti bun. Dan siapa perlu minum Coca Cola kalau air nira kelapa kita pun lebih enak dari minuman berasid itu? Namun media di sekeliling kita mengubah persepsi dan membuatkan seolah-olah barangan tersebut sekarang adalah suatu keperluan. Media massa melalui iklan yang bertubi-tubi mempengaruhi jiwa kita supaya menggunakan produk yang tidak perlu. Kita sudah terlalu bergantung kepada media untuk memberitahu kita apa yang kita perlu makan dan bagaimana menjalani hidup supaya kita nampak bergaya dan tidak ketinggalan zaman. Akhirnya penjajahan minda sudah lengkap dan kita hanya mengikut telunjuk mereka. Kalaulah kita seperti orang asli di hutan yang tidak kisah dengan TV dan radio. Kalaulah kita seperti mereka tidak tamak mencari duit untuk bergaya dan mengejar gaya kehidupan yang kebendaan. Tentunya kita akan lebih merdeka.

Kajang
31 Ogos 2006