A passion for coffee and business

After work today, I head to a restaurant with an office mate who is from Oman. He is a kind of weekend husband as he travels back and forth from KL to Miri – Miri for weekdays and KL for weekends. I thought that sounds great if you could tolerate the waiting at the airport, the two and a half hour flight across the South China Sea and sleeping alone for five nights a week. Logistically, you get the best of both worlds – avoid traffic jams during weekdays and head off to shopping haven on weekends.

We talked about stresses at work, as we always do to de-stress. It’s ironic but it seems to work. It is our way of letting out steam after hours of working in an office environment that is becoming more like a pressure cooker than a place to get things done. We chatted on anything from office politics to real world politics. 

After dinner we moved to a coffee shop next door. The interior of the shop is exquisitely designed. The walls are decorated with soft wall paper adorned with bricks pattern. It feels like you are in the basement of a house somewhere in a temperate country. It feels very cosy inside the air conditioned room shielded from the humid air and traffic noise outside. We sipped our caramel macchiato at one corner of the shop picking up again on our unfinished story about office politics from the restaurant where we just finished eating dinner.  Not too long after we settled in, young hipsters in their shorts and sandals began trickling in. Soon, all the tables were occupied. I looked around and noticed that we were probably the only senior patrons in the house. I couldn’t find anybody else with thin grey hair around.

Halfway into the conversation, a young man in his early 30s approached us. He asked how we were enjoying our drinks. It turns out he is the owner of the recently opened coffee shop. My Omani friend asks him about his venture into the business of boutique coffee shops. He explains that he is an avid coffee drinker and I could see that opening a coffee shop is probably a natural progression of following his passion for coffee. The shop is actually his second branch after opening a small coffee shop in the popular shopping mall in town two years back. It is proving to be a good venture although he admits that it’s not without risks. He talks about expanding his business to another city or even to a neighbour country with much bigger population due to the limited customer base in this small city of 400 thousand people. He needs to go out to capture a bigger market. He plans to expand and diversify his coffee business into supplying coffee making machines to local hotels, providing barrista training and other ventures related to coffee.  My Omani friend, who had been talking almost non-stop from the time we sat down, also showed his interest in opening a business venture with his new found coffee loving mate.

He revealed that before he became an expatriate here in Malaysia, he also ventured into restaurant business for a while in his home country. He saw opportunities in bringing home boutique coffee shops business like this one into Oman as his countrymen also love coffee very much. Most of the time, I just sat there listening to their conversation, chipping in only at random moments. It’s a very interesting to witness one chance meeting over a macchiato would bring people together that way and perhaps even end up in a business venture. We walked out of the shop feeling much more de-stressed. May be I should come here more often. Here I could see how a young and enterprising man has turned his passion for coffee into a thriving business.  This is what the country needs for its future.

Pray for Malaysia

Ten years ago this month, I quit my job with government-owned oil and gas company and joined an international company in the city. Many who quit their job around that time left Malaysia and went to oil rich countries in the Middle East. Back then, oil price was almost USD80 per barrel and rising. Many jobs were offered to experienced Malaysians who were prepared to pack up and go overseas. Ringgit was stable and jobs for the oil and gas industry were aplenty.

Now the tide has turned. Oil is still trading above USD40 but many oil and gas related companies are going through some sort of restructuring. A time for soul searching after a decade of industry euphoria that has abruptly stopped over the one last year when oil price took a plunge. The company I work for is not excluded. Its footprint in this country is shrinking and despite being one of the biggest energy companies in the world, many local employees feel like it is quitting this country. We have been told that our jobs now hang in the balance. We have to face a stark reality. A multinational energy giant has no loyalty to any particular country; it goes where its shareholder's values can be maximised regardless of how long it's been in a particular country.

The ringgit has breached the psychological level of RM4 for every US dollar. Economists can point to many factors for the ringgit's decline but what most people like me can relate to are the low oil price and the current political stalemate in the country. The government has been embroiled in a massive financial scandal and after decades of weakening democratic institutions, our check and balance system is now so damaged that it does not seem to be able correct the situation. I hear noises everywhere I go. In the mosque, the surau, the cafe, the office and even more so in Cyberspace. You almost hear nothing online these days but curse. How nice would it be if we could just leave this country, work for a stronger currency and not paying tax to a regime which waste our tax money on expensive lifestyle of our leaders.  Every day, I hear depressing talk of how bad we fare compared to our neighbouring countries. The noises remind me of the chaos of 1998 all over again.

I realise it is August, the Merdeka month. The Raya celebration has not even ended yet. I should be saying all things positive and patriotic. But instead all I am hearing and reading is the opposite. I wish I could turn a blind eye and pretend this is not happening. The only positive news I read is from Utusan and TV3, but I don’t read and trust them that much. May be I should be an ostrich, bury my head in the sand, watch TV3 more and read Utusan to lift my spirit. Yet, after all that happened in the last few weeks, it is hard to light up the Merdeka spirit this August.  Even less so when I could potentially lose my job after the company re-organisation. My wallet is hurting and my love for this country is really being tested.

When I think about it again, may be I should have followed my friends who left our shores to work overseas 10 years ago. I would have earned tons of money and have nothing to do with supporting extravagant lifestyle of people in power and the nonsense that is happening in this country. I don't feel like hearing patriotic songs anymore. It is so hypocritical of our delusional leaders to force the rakyat to sing it over and over again.  It feels like my patriotism is being robbed by them to keep themselves in power. Perhaps, we should follow our former future prime minister’s advice to those going to Mekah. Instead of singing Merdeka songs, we all should just go to our respective house of worship and pray to God that Malaysia will survive this difficult time. God save me. God save Malaysia!

Hari Ini Dalam Sejarah

Five years ago today, in 2010, I arrived in this town to take up my current position. Little did I know back then that I would be staying for 5 years. My purpose of coming here back then was to gain some field experience of doing my job. This is where oil and gas activities take place and I have to be here to learn the operational side of it. All this while, I had been doing desk job since I started working around 20 years ago in research and consultancy. I thought I wanted to gain some field experience for a few years and then back to my home again in the Peninsular. But as for other things in my life, I do not have a long term plan and I take things as they come.

When I first arrived here I was alone, going back to my home once in a fortnight. I was staying with a friend who was also a weekend husband. But long distance family is not good for the long term. I decided to bring my whole family to this town. I was joined by them 15 months later and my life was normal again. Over the five years I have seen changes to this town. Materially, I'd say towards the better. More shopping malls and more happening now than 5 years ago. More shopping malls were built than is necessary for such a small city, but they are mainly to cater for our neighbours from accross the border whose money has increased in value due to the ringgit's depreciation. Things here are more expensive than in many places in Malaysia, especially so for the locals who earn so little. With the depressed wages due to cheap foreign labour, I think the locals are struggling to make ends meet. For us professionals, things are not that bad. One thing, traffic is much better here. It only takes 10 minutes to go to work and same length of time to go home in the evening. No stress to look for parking space and no toll booth to pass through. I can spend more time with my family and overall the quality of life is better.

I think I am living in the best possible area for me and my family in this town. My kids just walk to school as my house share fence with their school. I live about 100 meters from a mosque and it's only a short walk to grocery shops and local supermarket. My kid's tuition centre is also just across the main road. This is indeed a very good place to live. Everything is just a few blocks away. But even after 5 years I have not been able to embrace this place as my new home. At the back of my mind, this is a necessary sojourn and it has to be brief. Whether 5 years is brief is a matter of opinion. I imagine loving a place is like loving a partner. I love my wife that I cannot think of another woman in my life. I cannot love two women at the same time. Same thing goes to loving a place. A few times a year, during business trip to KL, I make a point to visit my home there so that I still reconnect with my home and maintain the sense of belonging there. I have to decide whether to stay longer and risk falling in love with this place or going back to the town in Peninsular, where I still have a place which I call home. Indeed, there is no place like home.

Ulasan Buku: "Aku Kafir, Kau Siapa?" - Ooi Kok Hin

Aku malas membaca apalagi kalau buku itu tebal dan 'berat'. Bukan berat di tangan tapi berat di kepala. Tapi aku juga bukan penggemar novel picisan yang menghiasi senarai bestseller kedai-kedai buku popular.

Pagi tadi aku ronda-ronda di Bandar Ilmu. Hidup tanpa kereta macam patah kaki. Paksa diri menapak dua tiga bangunan dari tempat aku menginap. Pusing keliling bangunan, ingat nak masuk shopping, tapi pasaraya masih belum buka. Terlalu awal untuk berniaga walaupun memang peniaga rata-rata tamak laba. Nampak kedai buku aku cuba jenguk. Berlainan sekali dari yang lain. Semua buku dalam bahasa kebangsaan dengan genre dan gaya bahasa yang pelbagai. Ada yang dikarang dalam bahasa sastera tinggi dan ada juga guna bahasa separuh mencarut. Tapi tak mengapa. Misinya bukan memertabatkan bahasa. Menggunakan akronim yang sama dengan Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka (DBP), penerbit DuBook Press dengan nada sindiran berkata mereka menerbitkan buku kerana kecewa dengan DBP yang buku-bukunya hidup segan mati tak mahu. Sebaliknya, agenda mereka adalah agenda perut. Terus terang mereka jelaskan bahawa misi mereka nak buat duit, bukan agensi mengangkat bahasa kebangsaan. Tiada bantuan kerajaan, hanya initiatif anak muda untuk cari makan.
Menariknya, aku juga nampak kedai buku Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka (DBP) di blok seberang jalan tapi masih belum buka.

Berdasarkan tinjauan ringkas aku di kedai kecil itu mereka cuba menghidangkan sesuatu untuk memenuhi selera anak muda dan budak-budak indie yang selalu mengomen di alam siber. Penulis-penulis mereka dari generasi anak aku. Tiada nama penulis besar. Mengikut penerbitnya semua orang dialu-alukan untuk menjadi penulisnya. Tukang sapu, cikgu sekolah rendah, drebar bas sekolah, dan mat rempit sekalipun boleh menghantar manuskrip mereka untuk dipertimbangkan.

Tertarik dengan judul buku yang catchy "Aku Kafir, kau siapa?" oleh Ooi Kok Hin, aku membaca beberapa helaian di bahagian depan, tengah dan kulit belakang. Aku terus beli. Ringan harga, ringan dibawa dan santai dibaca walaupun isu yang dibincangkan adalah serius dan relevant dengan masyarakat majmuk Malaysia hari ini. Penulis adalah neutral agama (agnostik) walaupun isu agama dibincang di merata tempat dalam esei-esei yang dibahagikan dalam 3 kategori - Pendidikan, Agama dan Kebebasan, Politik.

Di bahagian Pendidikan, umumnya penulis meluahkan perasaan tertindas kaum Cina di Malaysia dengan sistem pendidikan negara. Baginya tidak adil sekolah vernikular dimansuhkan jika sekolah agama masih wujud dan sekolah kebangsaan makin bertambah Islamik. Kaum bukan Muslim tidak gemar ke sekolah kebangsaan kerana kualitinya merosot dan terlalu Malay centric. Penulis mengalami zaman persekolahan yang berbeza dari kebanyakan rakan sekaumnya kerana belajar di sekolah kebangsaan, kemudian Penang Free School dan kemudian kolej matrikulasi. Penulis bergaul dengan rakan sekelas Melayu dan India semasa di sekolah. Penulis menyertai kumpulan anak-anak muda yang membentuk kumpulan Universiti Terbuka Anak Muda (UTAM). Kumpulan ini menegaskan bahawa sekolah tidak harus menjadi penjara kreativiti dan universiti bukan kilang. Produk yang dihasilkan bukan robot atau ayam daging yang digemukkan sementara menunggu hari untuk disembelih dan dinikmati dagingnya.

Di peringkat tinggi, penulis berpendapat bahawa kebebasan berkarya di universiti termasuk penglibatan dalam politik harus dibenarkan supaya mahasiswa dekat dengan isu masyarakat luar dan bertindak menyuarakan isu rakyat kepada pemerintah.Pelajar juga perlu ambil tahu tentang politik walaupun bukan semua bercita-cita jadi ahli politik. Politik adalah kehidupan dan ia boleh mempengaruhi banyak hal di sekeliling kita.

Di dalam bahagian Agama, penulis yang agnostik ini menyokong liberalisme dan kebebasan beragama. Isu hukum hudud dan campur tangan agama dalam politik turut disentuh termasuk beberapa sketsa satira dengan watak-watak fiksional ahli politik tanahair berbual dan berhujah dengan ahli falsafah purba Socrates dan Plato.

Mungkin inilah buku yang pertama dalam sejarah yang aku baca dari kulit depan ke kulit belakang dalam masa satu hari. Kalau anda berminat dengan isu-isu masyarakat majmuk Malaysia tempias politik tak dapat dielak sebab politik melibatkan kuasa membuat dasar. Jika kita tak pedulikan politik bermakna kita tak kisah orang politik tentukan nasib dan masa depan kita. Kalau ramai orang cerdik menghindari politik, kita akan dapat pemimpin yang bangang. Dan pemimpin yang cetek akal akan mengambil orang bodoh sebagai pak turut. Yang cerdik dan pandai berhujah dengan mereka akan dihumban dalam penjara atau mereka sendiri yang memilih untuk berhijrah ke luar negara. Jadi kalau anda rasa loya dengan novel-novel Melayu popular dengan cerita CEO Melayu berusia 20an yang banyak bergelumang dengan cinta, hasad dengki dan syok sendiri dari bercakap soal bisnes, ayuh baca buku terbitan syarikat ini. Pada saya buku ini berjaya membawa beberapa isu berat dengan gaya bahasa ringan, tidak terlalu akademik dan sesuai dibaca untuk relaks minda.

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3 dimensional, 2 characters, 1 force – “Gravity”

Going to the movies is not really my weekend routine. I go to the movies only around once or twice per year. Most movies are catered for teenagers or couples in their 20s. When you are in your forties queuing for tickets at the cinemas is not really a happy experience. The thought of whether it was really the right place for me to be must have crossed my mind when I looked around and tried to find balding men of my age among the mingling crowd. Shouldn’t I be among the folks going to mosque? Am I really aware of what I am doing?

Despite all the negative thoughts, I reached the front of the line and got myself a ticket. They gave me a pair of special glasses and it was going to be shown in 3D. I didn’t get myself popcorns as I was not in the mood of being a kid. And I didn’t bring my kids along as I would have too many of them to fill the theatre. Besides, I was not sure if they would enjoy a movie without their favourite Upin & Ipin in it. The title of the movie itself could not be more scientific. As somebody who loves space and everything scientific, I thought the next 90 minutes would likely be worth the wait.

Of the four fundamental forces of nature, gravity is the one we feel the most and can easily relate to. Whoever happens to come in the wrong path of a dropping object would know how damaging gravitational force can be. It was discovered by Isaac Newton in the 17th century England and its unit is named after him. It is the force that keeps the Moon, space stations and satellites in orbit around the Earth and the Earth around the Sun.

With this one universal force in mind, I was firmly fixed to my seat at the edge of the sixth row from the back of the newly built theatre. And there I was for the next 90 minutes watching the breathtaking view of the Earth from a few hundred kilometers above. The 3 dimensional view of the Earth from space alone was worth it. The storyline and its drama did not really matter to me. After all, the story was very simple. Two American astronauts sent to fix the Hubble Space Telescope orbiting above the Earth had to find their way to another space station in order to return to Earth after debris from a Russian satellite, broken in a chain reaction of satellite debris hitting other satellites, hit the Hubble.

This is a movie where for the entire 90 minutes there are only 2 characters – the female astronaut played by Sandra Bullock and the male astronaut played by George Clooney. Except for the last 5 minutes when the female character swims to safety after dropping into a lake upon re-entry to Earth, almost the entire movie has a backdrop of space with the blue planet gently rotating in the background. The stunning 3D images of the Earth from space are so realistic that it felt as if it happened right in front of my eyes. I felt entirely immersed in the scenes and at one point spontaneously jerked my body on the seat to duck a piece of debris hurtling out of the screen directly towards me.

The longest I have seen a 3D movie before was around 10 minutes for a short documentary on space that was shown when I visited the planetarium in Melaka. Here I was treated to 90 minutes of outer space adventure. This is probably the closest I will ever be to being a real astronaut. This 15 ringgit that I spent on the ticket must be among the most value-for-money and entertaining investment that I made. Had the movie come 6 years earlier, the Malaysian government would do better to spend 15 ringgit on the movie than paying 100 million ringgit to send our first and only Malaysian to space on board the Russian spacecraft Soyuz. This is the kind of movie that can inspire school kids to be an astronaut to study the mystery of outer space. Considering that the movie only featured 2 characters and a very simple storyline, its strength is probably in the cinematography. Its success in bringing 3D outer space images in front of our eyes and let us be immersed in it is to me what makes this movie so memorable. With that, unless another exceptionally good blockbuster comes along, I guess I have finished my movie quota for this year.

Thoughts on Hari Raya Korban

This is the season for sacrifice. The last time I witnessed a bloody scene of korban ritual was around 7 or 8 years ago. Then again about 2 years ago I had to stand next to the goat being slaughtered for my daughter’s akikah. I had no choice. I was expected to see it being slaughtered and perform the niat to validate the ritual. Gradually over the years, I have sort of developed a feeling of apprehension towards doing it again. Unless I have to watch it I’d rather stay away from the whole episode and only join in later to skin off the dead animal. I guess the apprehension is not so much on the idea of killing another creature to put it on your dinner table but more because of the bloody scene that I have seen. A scene that for most of us, especially those who live in towns and cities are mostly kept hidden from. I was a bit traumatized. I don’t like seeing blood; even less when it involves killing. The sight of the red stuff makes me feel sick. How I wish meat could be grown on trees and we didn’t have to spill blood to enjoy our meal.

Yet when I was a child living in the kampong, witnessing such a scene was normal. It even had an air of a little celebration. We used to kill animals and little creatures on almost a daily basis. I had no qualms about piercing worms from head to tail onto my fishing hooks for use as bait to catch the keli, puyu or haruan. No guilt about disemboweling the poor fish alive and cutting them up into pieces for my barbeque dinner. But this was in a different time and setting. I was living in the kampong in a time when we would do most things by ourselves. Each household would rear chicken, cows or buffaloes for themselves. If not at our own kampong house backyard, surely our next door neighbour would keep some poultry. Every household had its own supply of almost everything they need. We led a self-sufficient life. Occasionally throughout the year, and almost certainly during festive seasons, either you catch your free range kampong chicken and help your father to slaughter them, or you would see your neighbour do theirs. It was perhaps more than mere curiosity to watch these animals being slaughtered after which you would help to pluck the feathers. The females in the family would then cook it for the family special dinner that evening. There was no place to buy chicken meat grown on protein-enhanced chicken feed. The term ayam daging or ayam proses was not yet in use.

These days the job of slaughtering animals so that we can enjoy our hamburgers or crispy fried chicken is mainly done behind closed doors in specialized buildings using automated machines on an industrial scale. The killing is done by people specifically employed to do this job. Most of us would not want to see the process anyway. What we see delivered to our table in an air-conditioned fast food restaurant, entertained with the liveliest piped music from America’s latest hits has been sanitized so much that we completely forget that life has to be sacrificed before it gets to our plate. The lively music, the exquisite décor and the clean premises are so that we are not reminded of the dirty and bloody scene that the chicken has to go through before it gets from the farm to our dinner plate.

I believe this sanitization happens every day in the wider world too. In politics, in order to shape popular support to a certain direction, some media outlets would only mention in passing things like “fifteen including children and women die in drone attack in Northern Afghanistan” omitting any graphic images that can draw sympathy towards the unfortunate souls. Even in circumstances like the dramatic felling of the twin towers of the World Trade Center, horrible images are screened out and instead a more acceptable version would be flashed on the screen and repeated over and over.

In case you are still wondering the connection between the ritual of sacrifice on Hari Raya Korban, the keli barbeque and the bombing of the twin towers, never mind. I don’t see a clear link either. The point I am trying to make is that we become more objectionable to violence scenes being shown to us as we only watch the much sanitized version of killing and human tragedies. For our own sanity, the gruesome realities of life and destruction that human beings are capable of are filtered out. We ignore the fact that even in our everyday life, we outsource to specialists to do all these unpleasant things on our behalf. For the killing of animals for our food we let the slaughter house workers do it, while for the killing of enemies, the soldiers and unmanned drones finish up the job for us. We can sleep well at night because we don’t see disturbing images of bodies being blown up to pieces. And we can still go on with our life as if nothing unpleasant has ever happened.

Between Two Malaysias

I can't remember the first time I heard the word Malaysia. It had come into existence many years before I was even born. When I was forced to learn geography or Ilmu Alam as it was then called and memorise country names, the name of this country had already been in use for almost two decades. Although the spelling was universally accepted, saying the word is still not settled. Now, even after half a century, I still hear people pronounce it in various ways. The kampung folks would say Me-lei-sia, while the hard-tongued Mat Salleh can be excused for choosing Me-lei-zia. The more urban Malaysians meanwhile, go with Me-lei-sye, presumably stressing the “sy” makes them sound closer to the Mat Salleh’s tongue. Whatever three syllables that they utter, it is understood as Malaysia, that federation of states formed at the South Eastern corner of the Asian continent and the northern part of Borneo Island separated by a shallow body of water that is South China Sea. I was born and bred on the side attached to the bigger landmass but work has taken me to the island part of the Federation.

I must admit that people from the part of Malaysia where I was born are largely ignorant of their fellow countrymen from the part of Malaysia I am living now. Perhaps because they are attached to the biggest landmass on the planet, or may be because the sight of the tallest twin buildings in the world is blocking their view, the West Malaysians have wrongly assumed that they are mainstream and that those living in the small towns at the edge of the jungle along the many rivers on the Island side somehow matter less in the making of Malaysia. One of my East Malaysian colleagues once told me how East Malaysians are deeply offended when visitors from West Malaysia keep saying they are from Malaysia when asked where they come from by Sarawakian or Sabahan as if these two states were not part of Malaysia.

Being Malay and Muslim which represent more than half of Malaysians, we are also guilty of insisting that everything has to be done our way. We assume people with such names as Idris bin Jala is a Malay Muslim and are embarrassed to find out later that he's neither Malay nor Muslim. While it is safe in Peninsula Malaysia to say Assalamualaikum and invite somebody who looks like a Malay to pray at one’s local mosque, one should be more sensitive and neutral here lest the invitee may be offended. He might just politely decline and tell you that he usually meets his God on Sunday. And while he may also call Him Allah, he meets Him not in the mosque but in the church. I once worked with somebody who kept a goatee and looked indistinguishable from a Malay. He had a smile and soft demeanor of a deeply religious man about to ask you to go to the mosque. But when he took off his work coverall, I was shocked to discover that he had tattoos on his arms and legs. Only then did I know that he was an Iban. For the Iban tattooing is part of their culture and tradition. Later I found out that a colleague who had Muslim name and appearance was actually a Christian Melanau and somebody else who had a Christian name was, to my surprise, a Muslim. While the Iban use anak in their name, some non-Muslim who are native tribes here use bin or binti to mean son or daughter of. Those are instances of the culture shock that I experienced when I first got here a few years ago.

I thought I knew Malaysia, my country of birth and my home for more than four decades, but arriving here I discovered how wrong I was. What I thought I knew was only the mainstream Malaysia, the narrative that’s presented in the mainstream media and even textbooks. Many people here would argue that while we say that this country is multi-racial, multi religious and multi cultural, our actions are not reflective of it. The mainstream narratives are still one sided. Our political parties from both sides of the political divide, our unions, associations and clubs are still largely Peninsular-centric. Development projects are still largely associated with the Peninsula. While it is understandable to bring more development in West Malaysia because of the denser population and the resultant economies of scale there, many East Malaysians feel that they are being neglected. Although the two states of Sabah and Sarawak contribute much to the federal state coffer through incomes from their natural resources, the infrastructure here is still second class to what is being enjoyed by West Malaysians. Even after 50 years they are still waiting for the long promised Trans-Borneo Highway linking the towns along the coast of Sarawak and Sabah. May be they are too polite to tell us West Malaysians directly but I can’t help but feel their resentment at West Malaysia who seem to suck out the riches from their land and pipe them all to the West.

The status quo for the last 50 years has to change. The people from West Malaysia should understand more about the ways of East Malaysia. The mainstream media should be truly inclusive in educating and making us all aware about East Malaysia. Our leaders from West Malaysia should care and look more towards the East. We cannot truly celebrate 50 years of our coming together knowing there is growing resentment among our East Malaysian brothers and sisters towards the West. West Malaysians would not want to be labeled as neo-colonial masters. The early leaders of Sabah and Sarawak did not kick out the White Rajah and the British only to be replaced by colonial master of their own kind. Let’s celebrate this Malaysia day as equals.

Happy 50th Malaysia Day!