The Day when I was a Polling Agent - Final Part

The aftermath of typhoon “Anwar”

At 5 PM, the school gate was closed and our party security worker stood guard just in case the 2004 two-hour illegal extension of voting time happened again. The counting process started right after 5.00 PM and only EC staff and counting agents were allowed in the room. The rest of us waited outside in our pondok just outside the school. There was nothing else we could do apart from praying to Allah to take care of the rest. We were ready to accept any outcome.

Supporters gathered at our pondok while the counting was going on inside the school. At 6.22 PM an SMS came that said we led Channel 2 for state seat by 168 votes. I read aloud the results to supporters and instantaneously a loud “Allahu Akbar” broke the silence. The blue pondok stood still. Seventeen minutes later another SMS came in for parliamentary seat, with BN left behind by 84 votes. Another cry of the takbir pierced through the evening air. The other pondok stood its ground. Exactly half an hour later both state and parliamentary results for Channel 1 came and by that time BN was trailing even further behind. Some youngsters on motorbikes started leaving the blue pondok and we knew we were winning the count for the polling centre. Around 7.30 PM our counting agents walked out of the school gate smiling, bringing the good news to the waiting crowd. It was going to be a long night for BN.

That night supporters gathered again at the local stadium which was used for the nomination two weeks ago. The final results for both state and parliamentary seats would be announced there. After dinner I joined thousands of eager supporters from both sides at the stadium. Again, they were split into two groups each one taking up one side of the stadium with rows of policemen standing guard in the middle. The atmosphere was volatile. The stadium lights were off but everyone’s heart was on fire.

Around 10 PM, all sorts of news and rumours were spread across the field about the fall of big names including some ministers. The crowd on our side of the stadium was getting very excited while the other side fell silent. Out of the darkness, somebody brought in a laptop, connected to wireless Internet and started an impromptu breaking news desk getting feeds from Malaysiakini and PAS websites. Soon people gathered around him like moths around a light and we could not believe our eyes when the preliminary results started rolling in from cyberspace. Early unconfirmed results delivered the son-in-law that everyone loved to hate, KJ, a defeat. It was too difficult to believe but it blew everyone’s mind. Final results were however in his favour. Later, we heard about Khir Toyo losing his seat but it turned out that he didn’t. Things were getting really wild. Then Samy Vellu fell, Zainuddin Maidin was also out and Shahrizat followed suit. A Malaysian friend who was working in the UK called on my mobile phone to confirm the incredible news he was reading on his computer half way across the world. Apparently, the call only cost him 1p or 7 cents a minute. His voice was frequently drowned by the instant burst of takbir amidst the euphoria. I ended up giving him live commentary of the political drama that was unfolding here in Malaysia.

Soon it was clear that the strong wind that blew at my local school polling centre that evening was developing into a full-blown typhoon. And this typhoon is what I’d call Typhoon “Anwar” for this man has galvanized all the various forces of wind, heat, moisture and pressure into a political storm that brought destructions to arrogant power across five states. Many would liken it to a tsunami, but a tsunami has no name. On the other hand, meteorologists would give a name to hurricanes and typhoons. Like Hurricane “Katrina” that humbled the mighty US against forces of nature, Typhoon “Anwar” also knocked the powerful BN off their ego. The people had spoken and their voices could no longer be ignored.

Locally, preliminary results showed we won both state and parliament seats by huge majority. The EC did not announce official results even until I drove home from the stadium late that night. And back at home I had my eyes focused on my TV monitor and laptop as official results streamed into the bedroom. My head did not hit the pillow till 3 o’clock that night. The full-scale destruction of Typhoon “Anwar” would only be known the next morning.

Two weeks after, much of the dust has begun to settle. Most state governments have been sworn in and the losing parties have had to do some serious soul searching. It turns out that the all-powerful BN which has been ruling this country since Independence almost lost its seat of federal power. Their share of popular votes dipped from more than 64% in 2004 to just over 50% this time. Were it not for postal votes and the cancellation of the use of indelible ink, they could well have lost the simple majority as well. No wonder the EC chairman looked even more depressed than Pak Lah when announcing the results that night. The massive vote swing had taken him by surprise too.

Looking back at the night of the 8th of March, I realised it was the beginning of a new era. Anwar himself called it the dawn of a new Malaysia. The old Malaysian politics that we used to think was unchangeable disappeared overnight. The threat of repeat of May 13 violence vaporized into the air. It was an empty threat to put fear into people not to change the status quo. Now that the seat of power in some states has changed hands, all eyes will be focused on the five states led by what is now referred to as Barisan Rakyat. Many hope that the newfound power will not turn them into arrogant, corrupt leaders like the ones that they had just pushed out. Demonstration of good governance for the next five years will strengthen their appeal and the once invincible BN also will be pushed to change for its own survival. It has been a blessing to us that we remain peaceful despite the initial implicit threat of chaos and instability if BN was not returned to power with overwhelming majority. People did not fall into the trap and have instead moved on to a system with more check and balance. Perhaps in the next two or three general elections a more stable two-party system will emerge following the model of Washington or Wesminster. This is going to be good for the people.

Across the field that night, many of us screamed so hard that we almost lost our voice. But nobody seemed to mind. We knew that from that day, people’s voice would be heard loud and clear by those in power. I know our democracy in Malaysia is still fragile and like a toddler it is bound to stumble before it can walk properly. But I am optimistic. I believe we are heading in the right direction. Years from now, when I look back on this momentous event, or if my grandchildren ask me about what I have done to this country, may be I can tell them that I contributed in my own small way in bringing this change. That change happened on the day when I was a polling agent.

The End.

The Day I was a Polling Agent - Part 3

…Part 3 – Witness to democracy

On the night before the polling day, two friends and I spent the night at the pondok keeping watch. There was a lot of valuable stuff – audio visual equipment, VCD etc. – that would surely go missing if they were left unattended. There was no time to pack up as we were going to open early the next morning. In my ten years of married life, this was the first time I had had to spend the night fighting off mosquito attacks under a tent by a roadside. The mosquitoes were 100% on the BN’s side that night. I didn’t remember whether there was a full moon in the sky but we were certainly surrounded by full moons all around our tent...and the shampoo girl posters with a rocket on it.

The morning of the 8th was a beautiful day. The weather was going to be bright all day. After a short trip home to wash and change, I was back at the pondok again by 7.30 AM. By 8.00 AM the school gate was opened and we received our first customer who came to check his name on the electoral roll. The first batch of polling agents went in to start their duty for the next 3 hours. More people arrived at our pondok and some unknown supporters brought nasi lemak and kueh for party workers. Later mineral water came and by lunch nasi tomato was delivered. I never knew who paid for the food and drinks but I am sure they did it with sincerity and not hoping for any monetary reward from us. After all we are poor man’s party. No big company would support us for fear of reprisal from the powers-that-be. Our support came from grassroots who would give but not expecting anything in return. I believe all they want is to see change and contribute to it in their own way. If anybody stopped at our pondok and asked for money, we would just show them the blue pondok where their chances of getting it were a lot brighter.

By 10.30 AM the first batch of polling agents finished their duty and the next batch took over. I helped friends canvassing for votes as voters were walking to the polling station. We took one side of the road and the guys in blue took another. There were occasional chorus of shouts and jeers from both sides but the police were standing close by keeping the situation under control. I could see people were feeling a bit uneasy with the constant touting from both parties. Some quickened their pace into the school as they already made their mind who they would vote for. Many would just give a brief smile, nodded their head and walked past us into the gate. I doubt how effective this strategy would work as I don’t think voters would change their mind just because we stopped them by a roadside and sweet talked them into putting a cross against a certain candidate. But it was fun and the other side was also doing it.

Just after mid-day I cast my own vote. I had waited until the queue became short so I didn’t have to wait too long. Soon after zohor, I went in again to take over as a polling agent from my friend who had been in there for 3 hours. I would be sitting in Channel 1 for the next 3 hours verifying voters’ IC numbers and names and striking them off the electoral list once they’d been given ballot papers. As the electoral list was arranged according to birth date, Channel 1 was made up of elder voters, Channel 3 the youngest voters and Channel 2 those in between. We were told to be extra alert because there had been allegations of phantom voters using other people’s IC to vote, or multiple voters who voted more than once. We were determined not to let them deny us fair results.

There were three polling clerks, each with their own specific task. The first clerk checked the voter’s IC, read the number and name aloud so that the polling agents from all contesting parties could verify and strike out the name off the list. The second clerk would tear off two ballot papers – one for parliament and one for state seat – and give it to the third clerk for punching. The voter would then proceed to polling booth, mark their choice and then slot the papers into two transparent ballot boxes right in the middle of the room. The presiding officer kept everything under control and his decision in case of dispute was final. As polling agent, we watched every step of the voter and made sure that he did not take the ballot papers out of the room. Election rules say that it is illegal to take out ballot papers from polling station or bring in any ballot papers from outside. The serial number on the ballot papers and the pattern of punched holes on them are used as a check against cheating. We were told to raise objection with the presiding officer if we saw that the conduct of voting did not follow proper EC procedures. I didn’t raise any major objection, nor did the other side apart from our demand to take a closer look at temporary IC used by a voter who had reported loss of IC with JPN. The other case was when somebody whose age was 70 plus came in looking like she was 40 plus. However, one of the clerks said she knew the woman and that she was a registered voter there, so I accepted her explanation. I suspect Botox did the magic on her.

There was a concern about the serial number on the ballot papers which could be traced to individual voters. But it was unfounded, as for the first time in this election, the clerk would not be allowed to write the serial number against the name of the voter in the electoral roll. Hence it was not possible to trace which serial number belonged to who. This ensured total confidentiality of voting and people should thank Bersih for demanding this although the use of indelible ink was cancelled at the eleventh hour.

The three hours in the polling room felt very much like sitting for final year exam. In the beginning people were coming in around one every 30 seconds, but after 4 o’clock there was hardly one every ten minutes! There were a total of 350 voters in Channel 1 and by the time I finished my duty 300 had turned up for voting. The turn-out rate was more than 85% and I think that was very good. The other channel registered much less turn-out. It seems like old folks are more responsible citizens as more of them exercised their right. By 4.30 PM, I passed the baton to a fellow party worker and went out the room to sip some badly needed fresh air. The polling centre would close at 5.00 PM sharp and the gate would be locked. I came out of the centre with an experience which was going to be memorable for the rest of my life. Those three hours were the moment when I was a witness to democracy in action.

…to be continued in Part 4

The Day I was a Polling Agent - Part 2

…Part 2 – Election fever bug in the air

Official campaigning started right after nomination and no time was to be wasted in the next 13 days. We called for first ceramah a few days after nomination. Given that it was on working-day night, the turn-out was fair. Our second ceramah clashed with BN and since our Bilik Gerakan was quite close to theirs, in the interest of security, the police decided to cancel our permit and gave it to the BN guys. Nothing new there since the police had to be fair to them. Determined to hold the ceramah anyway, we moved to a new location and, due to last minute change of venue, the turn-out was less than expected. Not that I mind because there was plenty of extra nasi ayam left.

Two days before the D-day we set up our pondok panas under a big tent by the roadside close to the polling centre. The ruling party had already set up their pondok taking the best spot right next to the junction going to the school which would be used for polling. Their pondok was an airconditioned portacabin sitting firmly on concrete foundation under big blue aluminium roof. We were told that it cost 10 thousand while our pondok was a makeshift tent rented at a cost of around 500 ringgit for 3 days. Clearly we are a poor man’s party!

According to EC rules, the location of pondok panas has to be no less than 50 meters from the polling centre. A draw was done by an EC representative to allocate which party got which spot to build their pondok. We made best use of whatever spot was given to us. Again we set up big screen by the roadside and treated motorists and passers by to our nightly recorded ceramah. While people were watching the ceramah, our volunteers distributed pamphlets and leaflets to housing areas. We got plenty of materials, which came from various sources, to be distributed to houses around our taman. Most were about condemning the present government including pictures of Pak Lah cosying up with some beautiful women – pictures which were widely distributed over the Internet just before the elections. Some were in Chinese and Tamil with pictures of pigs and clippings of articles from Chinese newspapers which we could not understand. We had to practise some form of censorship, lest our aggrasive approach would backfire. Personally I’d rather dissiminate information about our manifesto and what changes we would bring if we manage to govern. But then again, may be it’s fair afterall because they even used taxpayers-funded TV and radio to paint bad image of Opposition leaders.

While distributing the campaign materials, some got rare hostile response but mostly we were given an encouraging smile. At times, dogs barked at us when we approached the postbox in front of the house to slot in the leaflets when their masters were fast asleep. We could tell from meeting people around the housing area that the Indians were very angry with the Government’s treatment of the Hindraf affairs and their own leader, Samy Vellu’s response to it. Many vowed to support the opposition parties as a sign of protest. Their leaders even came to our pondok and promised that he would urge his people to support opposition candidates. The Chinese were less political prefering not to take sides. As business people, they are very pragmatic and would support any party that wins.

The state seat (DUN) in my area was contested by ex-UKM lecturer representing PAS and a contractor Datuk from UMNO. PAS choice was very appropriate as this constituency included two major public universities, a number of IPTs and government research centres. This area probably has the most educated voters and PhDs in the whole of Malaysia. For parliamentary seat, the fight was between BN’s MCA candidate and DAP. The BN candidate was a middle age man while the DAP candidate was a 27 year-old, beautiful single woman lawyer. Her campaign poster was mistaken for a shampoo advertisement! The choice was sooo obvious! They did not even need to campaign hard. But in the spirit of cooperation, we helped look after the rocket posters as well.

There were no untoward incidents in our area. No reports of tearing down opponents posters or bringing down of banners. This I think was a sign of maturity in our politics. In the days leading to the 8th, slowly the roadside turned into green and blue walls of posters and banners especially around junctions and roundabouts. The election fever bug was in the air everywhere.

...to be continued in Part 3

The Day I was a Polling Agent - Part 1

….Part 1 – “Be prepared for the battle”

I was at the office on the day Parliament was dissolved. Shortly after the announcement, an SMS from a fellow party worker arrived on my phone.”Parliament has been dissolved. Be prepared for the battle”, it said. Before that members of our party in the residential area where I live had been mobilised to prepare ourselves for the imminent announcement of the 12th General Election. Pak Lah had been hinting at it for some time and everybody was expecting he would announce it before April. We knew he wanted to deny Anwar the right to contest and we also knew he could not wait to raise fuel price after getting new mandate.

The next day the much awaited date was announced by the Election Commission. Nomination day was 24th February and Polling day was 8th March. There was to be 13 days of campaigning. Thirteen days of juggling between working in the office during the day and climbing trees to hang posters and banners at night. I tried to contribute in whatever capacity I could. I did not think we would win big but it was fun to be at the Bilik Gerakan every night, putting up posters, distributing campaign materials, watching VCD of ceramah projected onto the big screen over the roadside, and simply talking politics into the early morning when our work for the night was done. The big white screen used for the VCD screening reminded me of the 1970’s when Ministry of Information van would go to villages, put up an impromptu cinema in the village field, play the Hindi blockbuster “An Evening in Paris” and stop the show to talk about how to prevent cholera epidemic when the hero was about to give the villain a good bashing. Campaigning on TV had started way before the official campaign period and nobody gave a damn anymore what came on, as the overdose of government propaganda began to cause numbness on the people.

I forced myself up early on the nomination day even though I had slept around 3 o’clock the night before. It was Sunday and the stadium in our area was used as the nomination centre. I joined thousands of people from both sides marching towards the stadium around 7.30 AM. Calls of ‘Allahu Akbar’ and ‘Hidup BN’ were heard from across the stadium with each side trying to outscream the other. One side with green flags chanting the takbir and the other side waving blue flags singing ‘Inilah Barisan Kita’. The only barriers separating them were about a hundred meters of green grass and rows of policemen in blue uniforms standing guard. Each side was ready for the battle and the battle cry filled the otherwise peaceful morning air.

At 9 AM, nomination was opened and only candidates and their seconders were allowed to see the EC officers. It closed an hour later and from 10 AM to 11 AM the session was opened for objection. We waited on the field with hope and nervousness. We knew we were up against the other side who would try to find any mistake in the form to disqualify our candidate by any means. Our worries were not at all unfounded. There was last minute ruling handed down by the EC that looked like sabotage and the candidates on our side were not taking any chances. They complied with every single ruling made by the EC for they fear being disqualified. The EC head had been under fire for making a U-turn on mandatory Inland Revenue stamping of nomination forms. Initially, it was announced that there was to be strict enforcement of the mandatory stamping. The announcement itself was given at 3 PM on Thursday. This caused a lot of inconvenience to the candidates in Kelantan and Terengganu as they only had a few hours to do the stamping before close of business for weekends on Friday and Saturday. There would be no time on Sunday because nomination would start at 9 AM and close at 10 AM. Some of them had to fly to KL on Friday to get their forms stamped just so that they were not disqualified on technicality. But at the last minute, the ruling was cancelled for no reason. We learnt later that many BN candidates in Johor did not manage to get the Inland Revenue stamps and if the ruling was strictly imposed the Opposition would have won the state of Johor uncontested. That perfectly explained the last minute about-turn by the EC.

By noon on Sunday the 24th, the names of qualified candidates were announced. There was a sigh of relief from both sides as none of the candidates was disqualified. They were to fight as gentlemen.

Book Review: Freakonomics - Steven Levitt & Stephen Dubner

This is yet another exceedingly popular book by economists for the layman that has sold 3 million copies worldwide (up to 2007). This book actually came out before The Undercover Economist. It is co-authored by Steven Levitt, a University of Chicago economics professor, and Stephen Debnur, a writer for The New York Times. The book does not have one single theme and its chapters are independent of one another, so for people like me who like to flip books or magazines from the back, it’s a blessing. I can read the chapters in any order I like and each one offer its own story. Levitt’s research into obscure subjects proves in most cases that conventional wisdom is not always correct and the so-called experts are as guilty as politicians to say things that serve their own self-interest.

His research into everyday issues includes topics such as the effects of legalising abortion on crime rate in America, how teachers in some schools in Chicago cheat in their students’ exam to boost up their own rating and match fixing among Sumo wrestlers in Japan. He also asks why most drug dealers live with their mothers and probes how much your name is connected with your success in life. Although political correctness does not allow people to admit the positive effects of abortion on reducing crime rate, the authors have shown that by terminating unwanted pregnancies, future crime will be reduced. Babies born from these unwanted pregnancies are poorly raised and are likely to become criminals when they reach their teenage years. By cutting off a major supply of potential criminals (killing them before birth), crime rates can be brought down within two decades. Controversial it surely is, but that is what the data shows. And he can say it because he is a researcher, not a politician.

Crime rates and drug dealers go hand in hand. Drawing from a student’s research into the world of crack, the book discusses elaborate corporate-like structure within the hierarchy of drug dealers’ organisation. While those at the top enjoy great rewards, those at the lower rungs can barely pay for their own apartments, hence forcing most of them to live with their mothers. The book also shows trends in babies’ names and their correlation with level of mother’s education. Less successful communities (African-American in US) tend to imitate and adopt names from more successful ethnic groups (White American). Here in Malaysia, for reasons still a mystery to me, many in the Chinese community adopt Christian names even though they are not Christians. Could it be that the names sound more modern, Western and more cultured? It does not quite catch on in the Malay community though because it’s our belief that a good name should have good Arabic meaning. Hence the trend from our forefathers’ time with names like Bulat, Hitam, Kenit, Minah and Timah gave way to Aiman, Danial or Fathihah as the level of education of the Malays improves.

The findings of the studies are mainly from the US and may not apply here. I wish these were replicated here by our own geniuses to suit our own local problems. Alas, we simply do not have enough money to sponsor such things, nor do we have enough supply of freaks like Levitt to crack their head on solving such seemingly useless problems. We are more likely to spend our money on how high tech stuff like brewing teh tarik at zero gravity or flipping roti canai at 350 km above the Earth than looking into such mundane matters.

Book Review: "The Undercover Economist" - Tim Harford

I rented this book from Quereazant, a book rental store in Bandar Baru Bangi. It was on non-fiction best seller’s list for quite some time. The author, Tim Harford is a young thirty-something British economist who works for Financial Times and as a presenter for the BBC. He has since come up with another economics-for-layman book called The Logic of Life which is currently on best seller’s list in major book stores. You can listen to his radio show More or Less which is downloadable free as podcast from the BBC Radio 4 website.

In Undercover Economist, he looks into everyday phenomena and tries to explain them in terms of economics. According to many, economics is a dismal science but he puts it in such a language that even laymen can understand and relate it with everyday choices that we make.

The one subject that always crops up in his discussions is coffee. I would say this is a clear influence of American culture infiltrating into British life as the British are usually identified with tea! Take coffee and capitalism on the left hand side of the equation and you get inflated prices plus enormous profits on the right hand side. In economics parlance, you may call the equation the Starbucks equation. There are numerous auxiliary equations which Starbucks itself would not like you to know. These include exploitation and price manipulation on one side and Third World countries plus poverty on the other. You can name this equation Capitalism if you like. I am digressing a bit here because as an economist working for FT, a Scripture of Capitalism itself, Tim Harford would not be allowed to venture into this sort of socialist rubbish. But as an economist and heavy coffee drinker (which I imply because he’s so obsessed talking about coffee) he does explain why in a busy London train station, with hundred of thousands of commuters rushing to step into the office before their boss does, there is only one coffee shop with long queues, charging premium price for a caffeine shot. It seems to run counter to conventional economics theory that there should be many more coffee outlets trying to sell coffee when there is obviously a pressing need for more coffee shops (supply) in the face of so much demand (caffeine addicted commuters). He calls it the power of scarcity – the ability of that one coffee outlet to charge high premium due to unavailability of competition.

Of course he does not just talk about coffee. Economics is not just about that black stuff that people put into their mouth while they start reading e-mails in the morning. He also talks about big things like the mind-boggling pace of development in China and why Third World countries like Cameroon remains stagnant. While economics gives choices to millions of people in China to lead the life they want to lead, corruption is identified as the single biggest problem that is plaguing poor countries like Cameroon to lift themselves out of poverty.

His book has been very popular. He has surprised even himself in selling more than 600,000 copies so far. His initial estimate was that he would be satisfied if the sales figure reached 7,000 copies. With his talents of looking at why people make certain choices and not the other, perhaps in his next book, he can give an analysis of why people choose to spend their money on his book and not others. Or perhaps, why people like me, just choose to rent rather than buy.

The Best Prime Minister We Never Had – In Memory of Adlan Benan Omar (1973 – 2008)

Malaysia lost two great people on Thursday 24 January 2008. One of them you would by now know very well, and another you probably have never heard of. One had filled the pages of major mainstream newspapers but the other, being on the other side of the political devide, only managed to fill the blogosphere. One was known by the name of Tan Sri Megat Junid and another affectionately called Ben by his friends.

Browsing through the pages of Malaysian bloggers’ community, Harakah-daily and Suara Keadilan, one would not have missed the news of the death of the young Malaysian intellectual, Adlan Benan Omar at the age of 35. He was a man with extraordinary intellect. Educated at MCKK, then Abingdon School in Oxford and later graduated with double degrees in Law and History at Cambridge University. He was the first foreign head boy in his high school having won student’s election beating both Conservative and Labour student candidates for the top post. He was co-founder of Cambridge University Malaysian Association (Cumas), founder of student body UKEC and the 1997 recipient of Malaysia Youth award.

He was known among his friends as a walking encyclopedia because of his wealth of knowledge and his ability to memorise facts. Back in 1994, over a weekend night in the dormitory of one of our friends at Cambridge, we had a conversation about Malaysian history and Ben pointed out that there were a lot of errors in our history books. His knowledge of Malaysian history left deep impression on me as he dived into the depth of it and gave us impromptu lecture with the flair of a story teller. His room at Cambridge was full of books. His love of books and his powerful neurons absorbed everything he read like a sponge. I still keep the book on British politics that he gave me as a souvenir. I was doing engineering and had little interest in history, but he did spark my interest in that subject. I still cannot figure out what he was saying to me as he signed the book in Latin!

He was an excellent debater too, with words flowing smoothly out of his mouth in both Malay and English. On one occasion when the Malaysian Deputy Education Minister visited Malaysian students in the university, he started his speech in English but later switched to Malay because he said, to everybody’s laughter, it was an official function and thus must be conducted in Malay. Since I left Cambridge in 1995, I had not seen or heard of him but I knew that one day this guy would become a great man. Reading from the blogs, people who knew him spoke favourably of him. Everybody who had met him spoke of how impressed they were of him. One of the blogs said that even Dr Mahathir joked to him about how one day he would fill in his (Dr M’s) shoes i.e. becoming Prime Minister. He would be a perfect match for UMNO’s own Oxford-educated whiz-kid Khairy Jamaludin. In fact, some years back Ben and Khairy had faced off in a famous debate at John Hopkins University, USA.

I remember he was telling us back in 1994 that he would die young because of his illness which he had since he was 18. I thought it was brave of him to face the reality of his life and yet still managed to live a happy life, going around telling jokes as if he had no serious health problem. He contributed much to his chosen political party, his ideals and his vision for the development of his race and country. Even while he was quite ill, he gave his ideas in helping how to develop the economy of Kelantan, a state often overlooked by Putrajaya because of politics. Ben, you would have been a great Prime Minister but Allah loved you more. May Allah bless your soul. Al-Fatihah.

Anger over a cup of coffee

It was raining very heavily outside my office building at the time I was about to leave for home. There was no way for me to get to my car parked in an open space parking a few blocks away without getting myself soaking wet. Without an umbrella, I’d have to wait until the downpour stopped. I made my way down to the shopping mall attached to the building, found a seat at a western-style coffee shop, ordered two doughnuts and a cup of latte while hoping for the rain to stop. I paid 12 ringgit and 50 cents for the snack and quickly settled in a comfy cushion seat to enjoy the expensive drink.

As I was sipping the cocktail of milk and ground coffee, I wondered how much of the money I just paid actually got to the poor farmers of Colombia, Brazil or Ethiopia. According to the BBC, there are as many as 25 million small-scale coffee farmers producing coffee around the world. The market for take-away coffee has trebled from USD30bn to USD90bn over the past decade, and shows no sign of slowing down. In the US alone, it increased 10% last year, when compared with 2005. In recent years however, coffee price hit a 30-year low.

It is estimated that the coffee shops can get 80 cups of coffee for every kilo of coffee beans, each cup can cost up to USD6 in Europe while farmers in developing countries are paid around USD2 per kilo. Some coffee farmers in Ethiopia are earning less than USD1 a day. And it did not make sense that I just paid about USD2 for a cup of coffee when the farmers there had to do 2 days of hard labour to earn the same money.

The Starbucks Coffee company, one of the biggest coffee chains in the world, opens a new Starbucks Coffee shop somewhere in the world every four hours. The company denies any practice of unfair trade and its website speaks proudly of its record of Corporate Social Responsibility. But behind the huge image building PR through the media, lie some less rosy pictures. In 2006, Starbucks was accused of trying to block Ethiopia’s move to trademark three of its homegrown premium coffee in the US. I imagined how powerful a global corporation like Starbucks could be if it could even take on a Third World government to ensure its maximum profitability. What chance do the coffee farmers have of getting fair deal from their hard labour? It sounds scary when you think about that and imagine how vulnerable our government position would be in the face of fierce negotiation for a bi-lateral Free Trade Agreement (FTA) with the government of the most powerful economy in the world.

By the time I emptied my cup, there was so much anger that I felt I needed another cup of coffee to drain out the feeling. The sweet taste of the doughnuts calmed me down. I finished the last bits of the honey coated crumbs and stepped out to check the rain. I saw the mamak stall across the street and thought to myself I should have gone into that shop instead. The coffee would be cheaper and I would not have fed myself with so much anger.

1 Muharam 1429.

Keeping up with Rumour Mongers

I welcomed the new year with a phone call from my brother a few hours before mid night urging me to go and fill up my car before 12 o’clock. He said that petrol price would be raised by 40 sen at midnight on the new year. He had heard rumours going around and people started queuing up at some filling stations across KL. I said I didn’t see anything unusual when I was driving back from office on New Year's eve. Besides, it would not make much difference if I filled up then or on the next day because the most I could save was only on a tankful of petrol. I would have to fill up the whole of water tank in my home to realise any significant savings from a sudden fuel hike.

Now just days into the new year, people are queuing up again at supermarkets because of rumours that cooking oil price would be hiked soon. It is a pity that we are the world’s largest producer of palm oil yet the government has had to ration it because of panic buying due to rumour mongering. Almost two years back there was severe shortage of sugar in some parts of the country because of rumours that the government would allow the price of sugar to go up. The shortage was severe then, as it is now, closer to border areas because of hoarding by traders hoping to make quick bucks when the price is actually increased. There are also a lot of smuggling activities along our porous border. Utusan Malaysia reports that it is now easier to get cooking oil in the town of Sg Golok on the other side of the border than in Rantau Panjang.

The issue here is not the price hike. Prices will always go up anyway because of inflation. The real issue is people’s tendency to believe in rumours and act irrationally upon hearing them. To me, this underlies public distrust of official sources of news and their natural tendency to believe in pseudo-news spread by SMS or chain e-mails. Recent spread of false SMS about ethnic riots in some parts of KL is a manifestation of this phenomenon. The mandatory registration of pre-paid mobile number does not seem to have the intended effect of controlling the spread of false rumours via SMS. And you cannot blame the public either because our official sources of news have thrown their integrity out of the window and at times they themselves become rumour mongers. If you ask me who started all these rumours, I will not be able to give an accurate answer. But in all likelihood, those who gain most from the spread of a rumour are the ones most likely to start it.

7 January 2008

Journey into Full Moon country

Dark lumps of cloud gathered above my head as I crossed the border late that evening. The big sign board on my left reminded me that I was entering my home state. ‘Welcome to Kelantan in Peace’ it said. My leisurely drive took me about five hours before I reached the border. With eight people including four kids on board I had to be extra careful knowing fully well that I was on one of the most accident prone roads in the country. There is no highway in this part of the country. I have a feeling that people in Putrajaya, with four-lane highways crisscrossing their small enclave, somehow think people from this part of the country do not deserve good road system. Not while this state is living under the curse of the full moon.

The rain that had been falling for quite some time in hilly areas of Southern Kelantan took its toll on the road too. (I am saying that just figuratively – there are no tolled roads in Kelantan, that’s why its roads are still Third World standard!). The main road from Gua Musang to Kuala Krai, which is used by hundreds of thousands of Kelantanese rushing to get back to Kelantan during festive season, was completely closed due to landslide. Traffic was diverted to the less popular alternative road passing through Dabong and Jeli before one could go to Tanah Merah and Pasir Mas. Lucky for me, I drove back on Monday, way before other people did. I heard they got stuck for hours on Wednesday on the way to Kelantan because of the heavy traffic and half-closed roads. Some used the longer route travelling through LPT to Kuantan and Terengganu with the consequence of paying more for tolls and petrol. Which makes me think that every raya it is not just us celebrating it; Samy Vellu also has good reasons to enjoy the season.

The rainy season in Kelantan was still in its full steam. This year for some parts of the state the yearly flooding was more severe than usual. Excess water from Sg Golok had overflowed to low lying areas of Pasir Mas especially close to Rantau Panjang, a small town on the border of Malaysia and Thailand. Up to ten thousand people living close to Rantau Panjang had to sacrifice the comfort of home and stay at evacuation centres on the day of Raya Qurban. As usual whenever there is a disaster, there are also opportunities, especially to the most opportunistic of them all, the politicians. With general election just around the corner, here is the not-to-be missed chance to smile in front of national TV distributing goodies to flood victims, funded by other people’s money, for their own political mileage. The local daily Sinar Harian was filled with tireless UMNO leaders wading knee deep water with boat in tow distributing packed rice and canned sardines to villages. I am sure PAS leaders also cashed in on this opportunity. After all, it was a time to show that they also cared. But, their face was nowhere to be seen in the newspapers or TV. I guess their face was not handsome enough to be in the newspapers.

I did not stop over at my family house. Instead, my final destination was my mother-in-law’s house, the house which I always go back to whenever I visit Kelantan. After my parents’ death more than 5 years ago, none of my siblings decided to live in the house. Before long white ants claimed it as their own and it is now no more than a skeleton of rotten planks and rusted zinc. I felt less attached to it because it was not the house where I grew up, having spent most of my life either in rented house or boarding school.

My wife’s family house is in a village close to Rantau Panjang, about 20 km from the Thai border. Even without rain, the village is like an island, located quite far from other villages, connected by roads going through paddy fields. When it rains, it is easily surrounded by water from all corners, cut off from nearby villages. This time, the water level on the roads leading to the village was about waist deep. Overnight the roads became Venice style canals and the villagers had to use boats to connect with the rest of the world. The water level inside the kitchen was about 1 foot deep forcing my sister-in-law to move the fridge and washing machine upstairs. Still it was not that bad. They were not forced to evacuate. Thank God it did not go beyond the point of causing slight inconvenience. Quite the opposite, the kids seemed to enjoy it very much when all of a sudden open spaces around their houses were instantly turned into giant swimming pools. There was plenty of opportunity for them to practice double somersaults. For the folks, it was time to cast their nets as there was abundant supply of unsuspecting fish roaming free in the murky water tasting their new found freedom. The water levels however quickly subsided and by the morning of Raya Haji, we were able to go to the village surau without wading through the muddy water, perform the prayer and the Qurban afterwards. The sacrifice was not for me though. The cow which was supposed to be sacrificed for my children’s Aqiqah contracted foot-and-mouth disease and his life was spared.

Because the road to the village was under water, my family and I had to wait for two days for the water to subside before we could reach our final destination. We spent two nights at my sister’s house in Tanah Merah on our way to Pasir Mas. The main road from Jeli to Tanah Merah, part of the trunk road linking Perak to Kelantan, was strewn with potholes and cracks. Drivers had to reduce speed to dodge them. The traffic was made worse by JKR workers working hard to fill in the potholes in time for Pak Lah’s visit to Bukit Bunga, a small border town close to Jeli, on the second day of Raya to open a bridge crossing Sg Golok. There was plenty of opportunity for national live telecast for both prime ministers. And I think it served both politicians because while people from this side of the river would be going to the polls anytime early next year, the Thai would be doing so on Sunday.

Unlike the one proposed across the southern border, this bridge is not crooked. It cost RM9.2 million funded jointly by both sides. They appropriately named it “Jambatan Bunga” probably because it is in Bukit Bunga. It symbolises close connection between the communities living on either side of the border. Communities which share same race, religion, language and even passion for bull fighting, but are somehow separated by red line on a map. If not for unfortunate twist of history, the four muslim provinces in the south of Thailand could well have been a district of Malaysia. Nonetheless, not all is bad. They give us cheap supply of fragrant Siam rice and delicious tom yam while we sell them cheap petrol and sugar.

My visit to Pasir Mas this Raya also included a brief stop at my auntie’s house. She was not well and her children were considering whether to let her go for another skull operation to remove a recurring tumour. If they agreed, this was going to be her fourth time going under a surgeon’s knife. The doctor said at her age an operation on the head posed very high risk. But not doing it might not improve the odds either. She was lying in bed most of the time and her husband was the one entertaining us in the living room. He told me about a recent mock election in selected areas in Kelantan conducted by UMNO to gauge people’s mood in the coming general election. He was transported to and fro the polling station in a car and given free lunch. The organiser was satisfied with people’s choice and declared itself winner of the mock election. I could gauge from the conversation that to folks like him it was bread and butter issue that mattered, not abstract stuff like video clips, fair election or fight against corruption. To be realistic, I had to painfully agree with him too. To people like him, which party can build roads and who can give him subsidised fertiliser is more important than independent judiciary or transparent ACA. So those urban educated elite out there who thinks that a video clip will bring the PM down or a court case will cost a minister his political life, be prepared to swallow a bitter pill.

After a week in Kelantan, my raya homecoming was drawing to a close. More people who had been evacuated in the last few days were then allowed to go home. Visiting my childhood home village was nice but after some time I was also starting to miss my home in Kajang too. I missed the comfort of my own home, the freedom to roam on the Internet and my weekly trip to the shopping malls. When it was time to go back to Kajang, the local radio Kelantan FM announced that the two roads to KL going through Gua Musang were closed to all traffic due to landslide. I decided to believe it for my own sake although in the same programme the announcer gave a more questionable advice urging the people of Kelantan to make a change and vote for a new state government. The road closure forced me to take the longer route going through Jeli, Grik, Kuala Kangsar, Ipoh and then down south via the PLUS highway. I had no choice but to endure the heavy traffic and pay more for tolls and fuel. Samy, looks like you won again! It took me 13 hours to finally reach my home in the early hours of Monday morning.

As I was crossing the Kelantan-Perak border from Jeli to Grik, the sky over the hills was unusually clear. There were some menacing grey lumps above but I was sure they would soon be gone. The Zulhijjah full moon would be shining beautifully in the night as it had always been in the last 17 years. Many would hope dark clouds would permanently cast their shadow on the full moon. But many more would hope that the full moon would keep shining in this state for at least another five years. Driving my car negotiating the sharp corners and stomach-churning curves along the East-West trunk road, I was certain about crossing the border, but less so about which political weather my home state would have to endure.

Kajang
25 Dec 2007.

Bersih Rally - why I felt ashamed of myself

After reading what happened at the Bersih rally for electoral reform today, I felt ashamed with myself. Instead of joining them at the rally, I decided to go to Hari Raya open house. Today is the last day for Hari Raya open house and I got four open house invitations to attend. I regret that I have opted not to get involved in pushing for change although I am disgusted with the arrogance, corruption and abuses of power of the present government. I felt like I was a coward.

Depending on which medium you get your information from, it is estimated that about 40,000 people turned up for the rally despite heavy rain, police presence and harsh warning from the authorities that the rally was illegal. It was the biggest people’s march since Anwar Ibrahim’s sacking in 1998. The state-controlled Bernama news agency estimated only about 4000 people were involved. The Bangkok Post claimed “many thousands”, al-Jazeera said “tens of thousands” and Malaysiakini.com put the figure around 40,000. Whatever the number the rally did take place despite PM’s warning and IGP's threats.

I regret that I missed the chance to stand proud with those 40,000 people and be part of history in Malaysian politics. I was not there in yellow t-shirt to march together with those people who cared about freedom in this country. I am disgusted with myself because I crave for better Malaysia but am not brave enough to be part of the struggle for change.

The Bersih coalition is made up of 71 NGO and opposition parties calling for free and fair election in Malaysia. Malaysia is expected to hold next general election end of this year or early next year amidst mounting pressures on ordinary Malaysians’ lives because of increase in prices, corruption of high-level government servants, and judicial scandal involving former Chief Justice and a prominent lawyer. Bersih demands changes in the electoral process including elimination of postal votes, use of indelible ink during voting, fair use of state-funded media and clearing of phantom voters from the electoral roll. These demands are essential to be fulfilled for a truly democratic election and legitimacy of the elected government.

The rally ended without any untoward incident and the people’s memorandum to the Agong was handed over to the king at 4.00 pm by PAS president Hadi Awang. Although Tuanku was not there to personally receive the memorandum (Tuanku was in Terengganu for official business), his secretary accepted it on his behalf. It is the people’s hope, especially those from the opposition side, that Tuanku will have a close look at the demands and truly act as king for the people. Indeed, the rakyat have nowhere else to turn to when all power of Parliament, Judiciary, the police and other government agencies openly and shamelessly side with the powers that be even in matters for which they are supposed to be independent.

Looking at how important today is in the history of democracy in Malaysia, and it happened right on my doorstep here in Kuala Lumpur, I cannot feel anything else apart from shame, guilt and cowardice that I was not there today. Even more so when I saw women among the crowd. I pray that this yellow revolution will start a fire of reform and the institution of Monarchy will once again act as a check and balance against excesses of power by our political leaders.

Daulat Tuanku!
Daulat Tuanku!
Daulat Tuanku!

10 November 2007.

Teh tarik with an old friend

Last weekend I had a teh-tarik session with an old secondary school friend. The last time I met him was in 1991 - 16 years ago. It's been a long time since then. Both of us have changed in appearance. I think if we brushed shoulders in a pasar malam somewhere before we met, I would not have thought that was him, and I am quite sure he would not have recognised me.

He initially contacted me through our ex-school e-group. We exchanged a few e-mails and found out later that we were living in the same municipality. In fact he works in a nearby area as a government servant. It seems like this e-group is an excellent thing to keep old friendship alive and bring people together again.

After isyak on Saturday we sat at a kopitiam and talked about our life since SPM. He went to a local university and I was sent to London after two years of A-Levels to do engineering. He told me how he enjoyed himself a lot during university days and did not really push hard. All he wanted to do was just getting through university. After university he started working for the government. His interest in academic studies grew and he eventually obtained his master’s degree and a diploma. The next logical step is to go for a doctorate, which is the highest academic qualification that a university can offer.

He learnt recently that his application to do a PhD in the UK had just been approved and he would be flying to the UK by end of the year. I think his past work performance must have been very good to qualify him to be considered for overseas postgraduate studies. Not many people get the opportunity to study at the highest level with all fees fully paid by the government. So he said he was not going to let it go. Now that he has been given a chance to do a PhD, he wants to make up for the lack of attention he paid to his studies during his undergraduate years. According to him, in his area of work, Malaysia still needs people with expertise to be at par with other developed nations. He also told me that it was not just for him. Apart from getting his qualifications, he wanted to expose his children to life and education in the UK too. His children will also benefit from getting four years of free UK schooling. They will be able to experience an education system that is certainly different from what we are used to in Malaysia.

I cannot offer any advice on how to do a PhD because I have not done it myself, but I know that to complete it, one needs a lot of commitment, mental determination, enthusiasm, and perhaps a little bit of luck. Talking to friends who have got a PhD, I was told that in most cases it would not bring monetary returns commensurate with the effort and sacrifice that you put in. But the personal satisfaction is priceless. The joy of discovering new knowledge for the benefit of humankind is what drives some people to go through those four years of mental torture. I admire his enthusiasm to continue his studies to the highest level. Unfortunately for me, as my age approaches 40, I feel my stamina to go through the riguors of formal learning has waned down.

At this age, both of us have moved into a different phase of our life. We are now a father of four. Most of us are now pre-occupied with bringing up our children. And to most of us, after so long living in our comfort zone, having to go through another four years of burning midnight oil is just unthinkable. I think it is a lot harder to consentrate on deep thinking and research when we have so many other commitments at this phase of our life. That’s why I admire and salute those who have decided to take up the challenge.

Time seemed to run very fast. We did not realise we talked until the early hours of the morning until the coffee shop and the tomyam restaurant nearby were closing. It felt really nice to be sitting around one table again, sipping black milk coffee reminiscing about our school life and the places that we had been to over the last 16 years. Good luck to you my friend. I hope in three to four years time we’ll meet here again, sipping coffee, eating more toasts, while telling stories about your intellectual adventure. And by that time, I am sure I will be calling you a doctor.

Koleksi Pantun Raya SMS 1428H

Raya tahun ini saya banyak menerima SMS Raya dari kawan-kawan. Saya telah cuba menjawab setiap satu dengan rangkap-rangkap pantun di bawah. Setiap pantun dikirim kepada individu berlainan mengikut situasi masing-masing.

(untuk seorang kawan KL Boy)
Anak teruna pergi ke pasar,
Ikan bawal dijual Cina.
Sekian lama tingal di bandar,
Tiba syawal raya di mana?

(untuk seorang kawan dari Terengganu beristerikan orang Perlis)
Anak bilis dimakan penyu,
Ikan aya ikan gelama.
Anak Perlis anak Terengganu,
Bila raya balik ke mana?

(untuk seorang kawan yang beraya di Pasir Mas)
Pulau Chenok airnya dalam,
Hantu raya mati lemas.
Walau seronok tinggal di Kemaman,
Sambut raya balik Pasir Mas.

(untuk kawan-kawan yang bekerja di Kertih)
Burung merbok minum teh,
Buaya mati di tepi telaga.
Memang seronok duduk di Kertih,
Raya nanti di kampung juga.

(untuk seorang kawan yang beraya di Batu Pahat)
Baiki rumah paku besi,
Hujan turun paku berkarat.
Ramadhan sudah berlalu pergi,
Tuan berkampung di Batu Pahat?

(untuk kawan-kawan seangkatan yang dah lama tak dengar berita)
Pergi mengail pasang pelita,
Pelita dipasang dalam perahu.
Lama tak dengar khabar berita,
Sibuk memanjang setiap waktu.

Pulau Merbok di tengah lautan,
Lima dara duduk berkawal.
Walau sibuk tugas harian,
Bersama keluarga sambut syawal.

(untuk kawan yang ditugaskan ke Turkmenistan)
Paya Chini di hujung titi,
Paya Pekan di tepi hutan.
Raya ini di KLCC,
Raya depan di Turkmenistan?

(untuk kawan yang akan meninggalkan Bangi)
Paya Chini bersih dan wangi,
Paya Pekan merah airnya.
Raya ini masih di Bangi,
Raya depan hijrah ke mana?

(untuk seorang yang menetap di Ampang, tetapi berasal dari Dungun)
Tanam kurma di tepi hutan,
Buka puasa tercekik timun.
Sekian lama tinggal di Ampang,
Hari raya balik Dungun?

Hantu raya penunggu rumah,
Alarm dipasang lampu dibuka.
Di jalanraya pandu berhemah,
Elak kemalangan selamat tiba.

(untuk seorang yang beraya di Pasir Mas)
Kalau tuan belayar mudik,
Belikan hamba segantang beras.
Dari Kajang hamba balik,
Sambut raya di Pasir Mas.

Stories from my Kitchen 3 - "Sedekad di bumi ini"

Bulan ini genap sedekad aku menetap di sini. Tahun ini juga genap dua abad bandar ini ditubuhkan. Pada mulanya aku hanya mengenali Kajang kerana kemasyhurannya sebagai pekan sate nombor satu di Malaysia. Ia juga pekan yang berhampiran dengan UKM, salah sebuah universiti awam yang unggul di Malaysia. Persekitarannya dikelilingi bukit-bukit sederhana besar di kawasan Hulu Langat yang menjadi kawasan tadahan hujan dan tasik-tasik takungan air di Semenyih. Lokasinya bersebelahan dengan Bandar Baru Bangi, sebuah kawasan elit dan bandar baru yang didiami ahli akademik, profesional dan usahawan Melayu baru. Anak-anak Melayu baru hasil didikan DEB seperti aku.

Bermula dengan hamparan estet-estet getah dan kelapa sawit, tuntutan pembangunan menggantikannya dengan deretan rumah-rumah pangsa dan teres. Bukit-bukit dipotong, hutan ditebang dan pokok-pokok hijau dilupuskan. Ramai pemilik tanah menjadi kaya raya dengan nikmat pembangunan ini dan lebih ramai lagi yang terpaksa membayar harga yang tinggi untuk mendapatkan satu lot tanah tapak rumah mereka.

Pada lewat 1990an tiba pula bandar pusat pentadbiran kerajaan di Putrajaya. Ramai kakitangan awam bekerja di sana. Lalu ada di antara mereka yang tinggal di bandar Kajang ini samada menyewa ataupun membeli kediaman dengan pinjaman kakitangan kerajaan. Bandar ini menjadi bertambah pesat membangun. Bangunan tinggi dan kondominium mewah tumbuh dicelah-celah lereng bukit yang diratakan. Kos hidup mula naik, harga rumah melambung dan lalu lintas juga menjadi sesak. Lalu pada tahun 2004 lebuhraya Sistem Lingkaran Kajang (SILK) mula dibuka untuk menyuraikan kesesakan di pusat bandar.

Pembangunan melangkah begitu cepat di bandar ini berbeza dengan perubahan di kampung. Dalam sedekad aku di sini wajah bandar ini berubah dengan mendadak sekali. Gedung-gedung besar tumbuh di sana-sini, ada yang subur maju dan ada juga yang akhirnya ditinggalkan kosong kerana lokasi yang kurang sesuai. Segala kemudahan awam terdapat di sini. Masjid, perpustakaan, taman permainan, pejabat-pejabat kerajaan dan pusat-pusat hiburan. Lebuhraya baru menghubungkannya dengan Putrajaya. Kini Putrajaya hanya 15 minit dari rumahku dan ia adalah destinasi utama kami bila saudara-mara dari kampung datang berkunjung.

Di Bandar Baru Bangi, sebuah bandar baru yang terletak di kawasan Kajang, bertumpu pusat-pusat latihan dan penyelidikan bagi bank dan agensi-agensi kerajaan. Kedudukannya di pinggir bandaraya Kuala Lumpur menjadikannya lokasi yang ideal untuk tujuan latihan dan kajian. Di sekitar kawasan ini juga terdapat pusat pengajian tinggi awam dan swasta. UPM, Uniten, UKM, Universiti Multimedia, Unitar, KLUIC, MFI, Limkokwing University dan Nottingham University (Kampus Malaysia) semuanya berada di kawasan berdekatan. Di kawasan ini mungkin terdapat tumpuan bijak pandai berpangkat PhD paling padat di Malaysia ini.

Perpindahanku ke sini pada pertengahan tahun 1997 adalah kerana mengikut lokasi baru syarikat tempatku berkhidmat. Pada awalnya aku menyewa rumah teres bersama dengan beberapa orang kawan seangkatan yang sama-sama belajar di universiti. Namun pada lewat 90an, seorang demi seorang dari kami melangkah meninggalkan zaman bujang dan memulakan hidup baru dengan pasangan masing-masing. Aku sendiri berbuat demikian pada awal tahun 1998 dan menyewa rumah sendiri. Namun aku masih berada di kawasan ini kerana ia berdekatan dengan pejabatku dan juga tempat kerja isteriku. Akhirnya, kami membuat keputusan untuk membeli rumah sendiri di kawasan ini.

Selepas sekian lama dengan syarikat lamaku akhirnya aku meninggalkan pejabatku di Bangi untuk berhijrah ke syarikat baru. Namun tempat tinggalku tetap di Kajang kerana aku telah memiliki rumah sendiri di sini. Isteriku juga bekerja di bandar ini. Anak-anakku dilahirkan di sini dan bersekolah berdekatan dengan kawasan perumahan kami.

Memang aku akui keseronokan tinggal di kampung tidak diperolehi di sini. Di kampung tiada pagar dan tembok konkrit memisahkan kita. Di sana jiran adalah saudara mara. Di sini kita tidak mahu diganggu ataupun mengganggu. Aku dengan urusanku dan kau dengan masalah kau. Sekali-sekala kita bertanya khabar, itupun hanya sekadar di pintu pagar. Bukan hanya tembok batu yang memisahkan kita, tapi mungkin juga jiran kita berlainan bangsa, agama dan adat resam dengan kita. Walau apapun kita tidak akan mendapat segala-galanya. Kita hanya mampu membuat pilihan selepas menghitung segala kebaikan dan sanggup menerima sedikit kekurangan.

Aku masih ingat arwah ibu-bapaku juga merantau untuk mencari sesuap nasi. Di mana ada pokok getah untuk ditoreh di situ mereka berhijrah untuk membesarkan anak-anak. Namun kedua-duanya pulang ke kampung asal mereka sebelum menghembuskan nafas terakhir. Sekali-sekala aku akan pulang ke kampung untuk menjenguk sanak-saudara. Bila tiba hari mulia Insya-Allah jika ada peluang aku akan cuba bersama mereka. Namun ibu-bapaku sudah tiada. Kunjunganku ke kampung kini tidak istimewa seperti semasa mereka masih ada. Selepas sedekad, tempat yang dulunya asing kini sudah menjadi taman mainan anak-anakku. Di Kajang ini juga tempatku mencari rezeki dan membesarkan mereka. Aku sedar bahawa aku telah bertapak kukuh di sini. Di sini aku mula berhijrah dan di sini aku ditakdirkan menetap. Mungkin di sini aku akan bersara dan menghabiskan hari tua. Suatu masa nanti mungkin di sini juga hidupku akan menemui noktahnya.


Kajang
22 Julai 2007.

Stories from my Kitchen - 2 - "From Departure Hall to Labour Room"

I was deep in my dreams when I got a call from my wife Friday morning at 6 o’clock. She told me she was having labour pain. I didn’t know what to do. It would have been simple if I was lying next to her, but I was in a hotel some 1000 km away. Panic rushed through my head. What would I do? My scheduled flight home was 6 o’clock in the evening and all MAS flights were fully booked. I already told myself to be with my wife to receive the baby because this was going to be our last child. I felt that having four young mouths to feed was enough. I am grateful to be blessed with beautiful and healthy children and having four of them is a good point to call it a day.

I jumped out of the bed, turned my laptop on and got connected to the Internet. At RM26 per hour, the hotel Internet charge was a rip-off but it was not a time to think about money. I needed to be home for the baby. I typed AirAsia.com to book a ticket to KLIA because my original MAS ticket would be too late for me to see my wife deliver the baby. The Internet site did not respond. Maybe the server was down I thought. The address could not be wrong. It’d been etched on my memory. It’s written big and clear on the Airbus fuselage. I couldn’t get it wrong. I tried to call the hotline number but the response was confusing. May be I was so confused by then that I could not even understand a simple instruction. I called my wife again at about 7 o’clock and told her to ask my younger brother to take her to the hospital. I was still hoping that her pain would just go away and that the baby would not come out so soon. After all, she had false alarms a few times before and the due date was still 2 weeks away.

After failing with the website and the confusing hotline, I already gave up hope of getting home on time. From across the South China Sea, there is no other mode of transport to get home except by air. I was away on a project for a sister company, a subsidiary of an oil and gas giant. I had planned to be home for 2 weeks starting today so that I could be with my wife in the labour room. Although the due date was the end of the month, experience from the past three children told me that our baby would arrive early this time. Two weeks was enough windows for the arrival of the baby I thought. Now that my wife was already in labour pain, the only thing on my mind was to get home immediately.

There was one option. I could just go to the airport and try to get an earlier flight. I might just be lucky to get one from somebody who cancels their flight at the last minute. After breakfast I called the AirAsia number again. I was told that there was a flight to KLIA at 10.05 am, and that I needed to check in by 9.15 am at the latest. The other flight to KL was at 7.00 pm in the evening. That would be too long for me to wait. The clock was showing 8.40 am and I only had 35 minutes to check out from the hotel, take a cab to the airport, buy a ticket and check in for the flight. I prayed to Allah to help me beat the odds. I’ve not heard of anybody who does all this in 35 minutes. Whatever the odds I felt I should pursue this to the last possible option.

I quickly grabbed my stuff and dumped it into my travel bag. There was no time to fold things and put them nicely as I would normally do. I went straight to the hotel lobby, checked out and called a cab. There was already a taxi waiting and I needed to get to the airport by 9.15 am. I kept watching the car clock while the driver was telling me stories about his daily routine. Honestly, I was not paying attention to what he was saying. I pretended I was interested in his story by saying yes when I thought he expected me to agree with him. My only focus was to get through the gate by 9.15 am as I knew AirAsia was very strict with check-in time. I was refused entry once early this year and I had to buy a new ticket for the next flight even though I felt I was there on time.

I reached the airport at 9.10 am and rushed through to AirAsia ticket counter to ask for the 10.05 am flight. The man at the counter pulled out his walkie talkie and spoke to somebody to get confirmation whether they could still allow another passenger to buy a ticket and board the plane. I held up my breath as I listened to the confirmation from the voice coming through the device. I was given all clear. My worst fear was over. I would be flying home on the morning flight. Although AirAsia was well known as a low fare airliner, at that last moment, I was not hoping to get a RM9.99 ticket anymore. The fare was actually about the same as MAS flight and no in-flight meals were served. It was fine for me. I was not really hungry anyway.

Again I rushed to the check-in counter and saw there were still several passengers checking in. My spirits were up again. I was going to be allowed to fly. I went through the Immigration counter to get my Immigration chit stamped. Barely five minutes in the departure hall, we were called to board the Airbus bound for KL.

They say AirAsia is well known for delays. But my flight was right on time. The flight over the South China Sea took about 2 hours and 15 minutes and around 12.30 pm we touched down at LCCT. I usually have a slight fear of flying but this time I was so focused on the baby that I forgot everything else. I was prepared for any eventuality. Most likely I thought I would not be able to receive the baby in the labour room. In the past, it never took my wife more than 4 hours and she had been having the pain since 4 o’clock in the morning. It had been more than 6 hours. I did not know whether my wife could wait any longer.

Upon reaching LCCT, I told the cab driver to take me straight to maternity ward at Kajang Hospital. It was Friday prayer time and the road was packed. I think it took about an hour to get from the airport to the labour room. When I reached the hospital my wife was already lying in pain in the labour room. The nurses said that she had asked them to delay the birth because she wanted to wait for me. I was asked to wait outside the ward and they would call me when the baby was about to come out. It is not a normal practice in government hospitals to allow husbands to be in the labour room during delivery but I think they made an exception for me. My wife is a nurse at the hospital and among those in the labour room were her own colleagues . I was asked whether I would be fine seeing a lot of blood. After getting my assurances they agreed to allow me to be beside my wife during the delivery. My prayer was answered. At exactly 2.26 pm a baby boy was born weighing 2.8 kg. My life is now complete. I have 2 pairs of children – 2 sons and 2 daughters. I could not ask for anything better from God.

When I look back at the whole episode, I remember it again. As my bag slid into the X-ray machine and I went under the metal detector gate at the airport, I was overcome with emotions. I was so thankful to AirAsia for carrying me home. The face of its founder Anthony Fernandes, better known as Tony Fernandes came to my mind. Had it not been for his visions, many people would not be able to fly today. If there were no AirAsia alternative flights, I would not be flying home on time to be with my wife when the baby arrived. Thank you very much Tony! If you had a muslim name I would have named my baby after you. The closest muslim name to yours that I can think of is Ahmad Firdaus. It’s Arabic for “Heaven”, a name that has very good meaning indeed. It rhymes well with Anthony Fernandes too! I have come across many Firdauses in my life, and as far as I can remember, they are all generous and well mannered people. Maybe it was just a coincidence. A week earlier I was sailing to an offshore oil platform on a superfast crew boat named “Firdaus II”. I am not superstitious and I don’t believe in any signs. But I think it’s a nice name and I will not run the risk of not having enough spaces when I fill up the forms at the National Registration Department.

Not many stories these days end with a happy ending. I am glad mine did. Alhamdulillah, it all went well and God safely took me home from a departure hall some 1000 km away to the labour room at Kajang Hospital to welcome my baby. Welcome to the world my son. Welcome to the world Ahmad Firdaus!


At home in Kajang,
Currently on paternity leaves.
17-7-2007

07.07.07

They say this date comes only once in a century. But actually all dates only happen once. Every moment that has passed will never come back. That is why every second of the day is special. So what is your memory on this special date? Well, mine is quite exciting to me because at 7.07 am that day I was traveling on a super fast crew boat to an offshore platform off the coast of Sabah. I was on a day visit to the platform to do a review on some offshore pipelines – those big cylindrical pieces of metal that carry so much of oil and gas from beneath the surface of the Earth through the bottom of the sea down to an oil/gas terminal on the mainland. We don’t see them that much because they are usually either lying deep in the ocean or buried a few feet beneath our feet. They are mostly invisible but are indeed lifelines for the oil and gas industry. I’d say they are everything that a politician is not - silent, low profile, unglamorous but yet do their job in the most efficient way.

Many people grabbed the opportunity to hold important events on this date. Couples tie the knots. Expecting mothers pray for their babies to come out. Punters queuing up for hours to buy the number only to be told that somebody else already bought it. It’s funny why some people are so obsessed with numbers. I remember almost 19 years ago when it seemed like half of the world’s Chinese got married on 8.8.88. Supermarkets held super sales with items selling from as high as RM8888.88 to as low as RM8.88. I was still a student then. Didn’t really have money to go on shopping spree.

On a different note, people in the UK were remembering their 7/7 bombing in London 2 years ago. Security was tightened, as there were fears of another attack on the second anniversary of the deadly underground terrorist attack. Again, it’s funny why they think the terrorist would choose to attack again on the same date, when any thinking man would figure out that their potential victims would be most alert! If the terrorists were somehow connected to al-Qaeda, why would they choose a date of attack that coincides with an anniversary according to the Christian calendar, something, which I assume, is the last thing for them to follow. If they do celebrate anniversaries and somehow plan to attack again on the same date, I would assume they would use the lunar calendar instead. The terrorists might be using weapons made by the West, or technologies developed by the Infidels, but most probably they don’t give a damn about the Western anniversaries or calendar system.

I think it’s just us being human. We like parties and celebration. And this seventh day of the seventh month in the seventh year of the millennium is another excuse for us to celebrate. Punters loved it because they felt lucky that day. Capitalists embraced it for the profits and terrorists chose the date for reasons known only to them. The rest of us liked it simply because it was easy to remember. I wonder what reasons we can come up with to welcome 08.08.08 next year. Till then, keep celebrating!

Miri
12-07-07

Stories from my kitchen - 1

To go or not to go – a dilemma



Dedication: This post is specially dedicated to SK and KTS – you guys are now global pipeliners! And to all Malaysian expatriates out there.

“Hujan emas di negeri orang,
hujan batu di negeri sendiri”

By the end of the month (June) two of my ex-colleagues, who are both pipeline engineers, will have left the country and landed in a foreign land. One will be going to the Middle East and another to Europe. Their overseas adventure will be temporary as I believe they never intend to permanently live in those countries. Theirs is merely a journey for new opportunities to learn, experience different culture and of course much better pay! They will join many Malaysians before them who have stepped out of their comfort zone into unfamiliar life in a faraway land.

Both of them, and the majority of people I know who have left the country, are in oil and gas industry. No doubt it is doing very well these days because of the high oil price. More fields need to be developed and more crude oil needs to be extracted. Everybody is thirsty for oil, but China and India, driven by the need to power their industrialisation, are sipping up more and more barrels by the day. While supply of this fossil energy is limited, the demand seems to be endless. Crisis in Iran and Iraq, both being major oil producers, pushes the price even higher. But not all is gloomy. My friends in Petronas are all smiles. Only yesterday Petronas announced record pre-tax profits of RM76 billion on the back of strong oil price. With another 6 months bonus (hopefully), my dear Petronas friends, that new Honda Accord is no longer beyond your reach!

If you look at the recruitment section of popular newspapers, there has not been a week without job advertisements for posts in the Middle East. Some of them even go on recruitment roadshow here in Malaysia to attract experienced people to join their company. I am not sure why they need to look east this time around. Traditionally they would naturally seek help from the West to help extract their oil. Maybe because of fear of terrorism, more Mat Salehs find it less attractive there, and we are more than willing to fill the vacuum.

But not all is “brain drain”. In the current age of globalisation, Malaysia, like other countries, has seen a lot of foreigners coming in to seek better opportunity and life in this country too. Millions of workers arrive on our shores to work on our plantations, factories, petrol stations and our own homes. This phenomenon has been widely discussed in the media partly because of the increase in crime rate and social problems brought in by the flood of immigrants, and probably not less, by the misterious dissaperance of stray cats and dogs on our streets! What is less discussed is the fact that this country is also host to about 100,000 expatriates from developed countries who work at senior positions in our banks, hotels, IT companies, engineering and other high-tech industries. Within the company I work for, more than half of the staff are expatriates. As part of a global oil and gas giant, most of them are here on a 3 to 4 year assignment, and will move on to a new location after that period. But to Malaysia’s credit, a recent survey in Expatriate Lifestyle magazine reported that they are staying here for longer period and many actually buy houses under the Malaysia My Second Home incentives. With average income of about RM32,000 per month, and insatiable appetite for Malaysian food, sand, sun (and sex?), their contribution to our economy is not insignificant.

All those wonderful stories about fat salaries, overseas vacations, big cars, nice house and the all glamourous expat life sometimes make me ask myself why I am still here. My RM salary will never be able to buy that kind of luxury. Not that I have never been enticed into it before. A few years ago I was asked by an engineering manager of a Middle East petroleum company whether I would like to be considered for a position at his company. I said I would give it a thought but after considering potential inconveniences to my family and other matters I decided to decline the offer. I guess I am too confortable in my current life. I am afraid to take the plunge into uncertainty. I don’t deny the opportunity for better life that is available there. I wish my friends and all those who have taken up the challenge best of luck. I am sure they will come back with invaluable skills for the future of Malaysia. As for me, I am comfortable here. Yes my current job offers less money and the KL traffic gives me stress. I agree our schools could be better and our society needs to be more equitable. I can tell you I hate paying expensive tolls or putting up with rampant corruption. Our government officials need to do more and our politicians suck. But, despite all the imperfections, I am still here because it's the only place that I can call home.


Kajang
30 June 2007

Iklan Makanan Ringan di TV diharamkan

Saya amat mengalu-alukan keputusan kabinet untuk mengharamkan sepenuhnya iklan makanan segera seperti Maggi, Mamee, KFC, McD dan yang sejenis dengannya di kaca TV. Sebagaimana iklan rokok dan arak sebelumnya, saya berpendapat ianya memang keputusan yang tepat. Kepentingan kesihatan rakyat Malaysia perlu mengatasi keuntungan syarikat-syarikat TV dan juga syarikat makanan ringan berkenaan. Statistik kementerian kesihatan menunjukkan peningkatan masalah kesihatan yang berkaitan dengan pemakanan kurang sihat di kalangan golongan muda di negara ini. Malah saya berharap kerajaan bertindak lebih tegas lagi dengan menaikkan cukai terhadap makanan tersebut untuk membendung gejala peningkatan jualan makanan segera yang merosakkan kesihatan itu.

Suatu ketika dahulu kita lihat bahawa syarikat rokok menguasai stadium sukan kita dengan menaja acara-acara sukan besar. Kebimbangan bahawa sukan Malaysia akan merosot disebabkan kehilangan sumber kewangan nampaknya tidak berasas kerana sukan kita memang sentiasa di tempat tercorot pun!

Namun usaha untuk menggalakkan orang Malaysia mengamalkan pemakanan sihat tidak perlu terhenti setakat pengharaman iklan makanan segera sahaja. Budaya makan di luar di mana kita dihidangkan dengan serbuk perisa MSG, garam dan gula yang berlebihan juga perlu dikikis.

23-6-2007

Book Review: "I am Muslim" by Dina Zaman

I like reading slim books that I can finish before I lose interest in it. And this 236-page book fits well with the definition of a slim book. It’s been on the local non-fiction best seller list for quite a while. The author is a well known writer on the news website Malaysiakini.com. The book is not exactly a continuous story but instead a collection of previous writings by the author which have been rearranged under different chapters with different themes. It is obvious from the writings that the author is a liberal muslim. She was educated in the UK and had been to many places around the world as she followed her diplomat father but somehow could still relate with her hometown in Terengganu. I think her upbringing inevitably shaped her worldview and liberal interpretation of Islam. Generally, people tend to be more liberal when they mix with people of various cultures.

She writes on various dilemmas faced by modern urban muslims trying to fit in with modern secular life. As a journalist she is not afraid to spend time in a different community in order to find out about their belief and practices. She has been able to juggle her seemingly contradictory lives pretty well. She spent a month with a zikir group in Indonesia (Nursyifa) to purify her soul, hung out with gay friends in KL and talked openly about it, consulted her local ustaz on religious matters and, being Malay, also sought the help of a shaman (bomoh). There are also pieces about her struggle to grasp the meaning of life after her divorce.

If you are looking for guidance on Islamic law or way of life, this book is definitely not a source. It is just a Muslim woman’s personal experience of seeing Islam through her own Western-educated liberal thinking and trying to make sense of the society in which she lives.

"I am Muslim" is published by Silverfishbooks and priced at RM30.00

Kajang
23 June 2007

You are still my Wira

(Read a story about a man's love affair with his car)

Our love affair started in a Proton showroom somewhere in Selayang back in December 1997. It was a particularly disastrous year for the rest of the country. Malaysia was choking with thick haze, the worst environmental problem that this country had ever faced. Our ringgit was tumbling down into what was going to be the worst financial disaster as well. With the help from somebody who had connections, we were officially engaged three months earlier after I beat some other prospective buyers in a normally 6 month long waiting list. Your lot was that popular back then. Your more curvy sisters, the Gen2 and the Savvy, and your more muscular brother, the Waja, were not yet born. They painted you blue, not because I couldn’t differentiate red and green but because blue was my favourite colour. We started our life together on the first day of Ramadan that year. It was the first time I entered the world of mobility.

Just over a month later, we greeted the coming of my other life partner, somebody who would occupy the front passenger seat for most of your working life. You were witness to some of our romantic times together as newly wed couple. I was on top of the world. I had a brand new car and new wife too! What else could a man want? Friends joked about the similarities and differences of a new car and new wife. One said I needed to treat both of them gently. One I paid cash while the other was on a loan. I was told to avoid going into potholes with one but not the other! And whatever they said, truly I enjoyed both.

Exactly one year later you faithfully took my wife and me home through the jungles of Pahang and Kelantan while the baby inside her could pop out any moment along the way. She wanted to deliver our first baby with family members around and you safely delivered us home. We celebrated the third member of my own family, somebody who would be occupying one of your seats at the back. No complain from you and you kept performing like new. I took you to a Proton service centre for regular check-ups. Just the normal lube and filter change. I complained about them charging too much but I knew I had to go to them because you were still under warrantee. You clocked more than 20,000 km in the first year, a distance far enough to go around the world. Your water pump started making abnormal noises but you were perfect again after I was forced to replace it. You drank very little – a 30 ringgit fuel would take us from Kajang to Pasir Mas. Of course as you get older, you drink even more. Now you need 60 ringgit worth of fuel to go the same distance. But I know it’s not just because you drink more, it’s also because fuel price has increased a lot in 10 years.

Because of my lack of driving experience, you had a number of bruises and a few near misses in the first few years of you life, but so far you have spared me from any bruises. I got your broken bumpers and dent mudguard replaced, repainted and you became spotless again. The roof started to show signs of blisters after a couple of years. Over the years it corroded even more and I had to replace it. That was the time I decided to change your colour. It was time to give you new clothes I thought. But underneath I know you are still you.

Three years after you came into the family you proved to be useful again. I will never forget taking my ailing mother from Pasir Mas to Kajang to spend her last days with me. I also remember how well you performed when we trailed the ambulance from Kajang to Pasir Mas bringing my mother home when she was gravely ill and wanted to breathe her last in her own home. Though she is no longer here, I am sure she enjoyed the ride taking her to places that she had never been the whole of her life. The family went to Melaka to see Hang Tuah, to Pangkor and Port Dickson for holidays, to KLCC to see the tallest twin towers in the world. I could see how appreciative she was going to these places after spending nearly 50 years of her life in rural Kelantan.

Over the years I have been tempted to dump you for a new one. There are so many attractive new prospects in the market with various easy payment schemes. The temptation is always there. Probably something that can carry more people as my family has grown in number and size. Perhaps something more comfortable from the MPV species. But every time that thought comes up, I look back at how faithful you have served me and my family and I quickly find reasons to still keep you in my garage.

I admit I have not been a good owner. I am not the man who spends two hours every Sunday morning caressing his car. I am sure you will understand that I’ve got other more important things to do. Sometimes you go for months without bathing, left in the hot sun to bake yourself or soaking wet in the afternoon thunderstorm. But you should know by now our relationship is based on a simple motto: you are here to serve me, not the other way around. They say the average Malaysian changes their car every four to five years. Our relationship has survived twice that long because you have become so sentimental to me. We grow old together. I have raised my family with your help. You make me feel guilty to dump you for something new.

Yesterday I went to the JPJ office to officially cancel the ownership claim from my previous employer who had financed the loan. I know I have fully repaid the loan two and a half years ago but I kept postponing the trip to JPJ until yesterday. They put a stamp on your registration certificate and now you are officially my Wira. I don’t know how much longer can I keep you in the face of so much temptation out there. But for now at least, after almost 10 years, you are still my Wira.


Kajang
9 June 2007.