So, who is the tyrannical infant? I wish I still could smile the high-school-girl smile. HeHeHe.
Reply to the comment: Yes, you're right. You see,I am so gorgeous that you(nevermind that you are a man or a woman)can sell your soul for me now. Haha.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
The high-school-girl smile.
So, who is the tyrannical infant? I wish I still could smile the high-school-girl smile. HeHeHe.
Reply to the comment: Yes, you're right. You see,I am so gorgeous that you(nevermind that you are a man or a woman)can sell your soul for me now. Haha.
The old man
Today, I want to tell you a true story. This is a story about an old man, who lived on the 4th floor of a flat. One day, he had a heated argument with his neighbors next door. During the argument, he ran amok and took a meat chopper, slashing his neighbors. A brave neighbor from the 5th floor came down, trying to stop the slashing session. As a result, that brave neighbor was injured too but he managed to stop the blood shed argument.
After all this chaos, the police came. The injured neighbors were admitted to hospital. Of course, the old man was held by the police. Eventually, the neighbors didn’t press charges against the old man. So, he was released as a freeman. Free to go back to his home on the 4th floor of the flat. The neighbors next door had since moved out.
Since then, he was completely shut off by all the people. No one talked to him, no one dared to go near him. His children didn’t come to see him. The only people who talked to him were the little children. Sometimes, he would give them sweets. Whenever he walked around the walkway, people would lock the grilles and shut themselves behind the doors. Children were scolded and told not to talk to him.
After a year, the old man committed suicide by drinking pesticide. He died alone at his lonely home on the 4th floor of that flat. People only found out that he died when his dead body started to generate stinky odor. Why did he kill himself? He killed himself because no one wanted to forgive him and no one wanted to give him a second chance to be good again. The world certainly has its way of killing a human being without being held accountable.
After all this chaos, the police came. The injured neighbors were admitted to hospital. Of course, the old man was held by the police. Eventually, the neighbors didn’t press charges against the old man. So, he was released as a freeman. Free to go back to his home on the 4th floor of the flat. The neighbors next door had since moved out.
Since then, he was completely shut off by all the people. No one talked to him, no one dared to go near him. His children didn’t come to see him. The only people who talked to him were the little children. Sometimes, he would give them sweets. Whenever he walked around the walkway, people would lock the grilles and shut themselves behind the doors. Children were scolded and told not to talk to him.
After a year, the old man committed suicide by drinking pesticide. He died alone at his lonely home on the 4th floor of that flat. People only found out that he died when his dead body started to generate stinky odor. Why did he kill himself? He killed himself because no one wanted to forgive him and no one wanted to give him a second chance to be good again. The world certainly has its way of killing a human being without being held accountable.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
The French hill tribe.
Xavier Jarry is a French man from Nice. In year 2004, I met him in Chiang Mai, Thailand, and then I bumped into him again in Bangkok. He certainly has no air of arrogance like what many people think about the French.(Am I being sarcastic?)He was at Phanga when Tsunami hit that year but he survived. He didn't leave Phanga immediately, he stayed back to help and donate his blood. Cheers, man!
Monday, June 26, 2006
Haunted dreams
Wrinkled heart trapped in a shapeless universe,
Wrinkled heart with haunted dreams,
Waiting in vain to be redeemed.
Dancing like a possessed spirit
Up to the mountain,
Down to the ravine.
Impossible dreams have long been conceived in mind,
Waiting for the right time to be materialized.
Wrinkled heart with haunted dreams,
Waiting in vain to be redeemed.
Dancing like a possessed spirit
Up to the mountain,
Down to the ravine.
Impossible dreams have long been conceived in mind,
Waiting for the right time to be materialized.
Encounter
Well, there is a wide wide world of noble causes
And lovely landscapes to discover
But all I really want to do right now
is to find another lover!.....Joni Mitchell
And lovely landscapes to discover
But all I really want to do right now
is to find another lover!.....Joni Mitchell
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Mobile Clinic
On 15 May this year, I received a SMS: “Penang chapter will be conducting a mobile clinic on 21 May 2006 at Kg. Kuala Segantang Garam, Mukim Bujang, Kedah. The clinic starts at 9am and ends at 1pm. Please confirm your attendance.” The SMS was sent to me by Major Anuar, who is in control of Penang chapter of Mercy Malaysia. Coincidentally, my family would go back to Alor Setar (my hometown) from Penang that day. So, they would drop me off in Sungai Petani to meet up with Major Anuar and other volunteers.
On 21 May morning, Ling, my sister was driving at great speed heading towards Sungai Petani and then she turned around and said something like this: “Don’t worry, you will arrive on time.” This is how my family shows their love to me. They normally are very supportive in whatever I do in my life. So, I arrived in Sungai Petani on time. Actually, I was very excited about this despite the fact that I had caught a cold and had been tired.
O.K, let’s get back to the story, the night before, I had visualized ourselves (the volunteers) setting up an outdoor mobile clinic under a luxuriant tree in a village, where abashed children hiding behind their mothers’ bums. I had even visualized myself giving medicines to the children. Seriously speaking, I really believed that I was coming close to becoming like the saintly Mother Teresa.
So, I met up with Major Anuar at a restaurant. Chang, the medical graduate and Dr. Halim were also there. (I met them during the 3 days 2 nights basic mission training organized by Mercy Malaysia.) There, we were having breakfast, talking and laughing away. After a while, other volunteers namely 2 female doctors and 5 community nurses from Penang General Hospital led by sister Mahiran arrived and joined us. Go, go, girl power. In fact, sister Mahiran just came back from Pakistan.
After breakfast, we started our journey to Kampung Segantang Garam, a supposedly riverside village, where its inhabitants work as farmers and fishermen. Along the journey, Major Anuar told us inspiring yet nerve-breaking stories about his many mission trips to countries like Pakistan, Sudan, Jordan, Aceh in Indonesia. According to him, the security forces in Aceh were so corrupted and brutal that they demanded money from him when he asked them to escort him to transport the medical supplies and goods to tsunami-hit areas.
Our car was moving along a road flanked by strikingly green paddy fields in the middle of nowhere. Then, what came into sight were these brand new concrete houses. This is the community centre of the village. There were many people there who were mainly the villagers. In the compound, women were busy with food preparation while the men were busy stirring the dish cooked in a massive wok. It seemed that there would be a feast later. Actually, it was a community-bonding programme organized by the district government. There was an exhibition of local handicrafts and products as well as an exhibition by the fire brigade department. Wait a minute, this was not what I visualized the night before. Actually, I was a bit disappointed though. Hehehe.
So, we carried boxes of medical supplies from the cars to the nursery. We turned the nursery into a temporary clinic. The walls were embellished with children’s drawings and posters of alphabets. Two girls were in charge of the registration desks outside the nursery while two guys were willingly being the patients controllers. I joined sister Mahiran and three other sweet looking community nurses to be the medicine dispensers. There were also two medical officers from the district health clinic joining us, not to mention the very charming husband and wife doctors from Putra Medical Centre, Alor Setar.
Every patient was given a blood pressure test. Many elderly had old-folk-sicknesses such as hypertension. Some of the patients were suffering from skin fungal infections. So, we gave them anti-fungal cream. Those who were proved to be free from all sicknesses were given vitamin C. I looked cluelessly at the neatly arranged medicine on the table and realized that the reason I was invited to join the mobile clinic was to learn how to serve the people. I totally appreciated it.
I mostly helped to pack the pills into small packets. After all, I wasn’t experienced enough to read the doctors hand writing. Those pills are normally with 8 or more alphabets and end with `ton’ such as Pharmaton, Triniton?!! and so-and-so ton. It was indeed a learning experience of the whole new medical world.
Time past by without notice, it was time to wrap things up. We were invited to have lunch there. All of us were seated on a mat and eating authentic Malay cuisine such as pucuk nangka ikan bilis masak gulai, ikan kering goreng and sambal belacan with rice.
Before we headed off, each of us was given a goodie bag consist of a packet of fish crackers, a packet of dried shrimps, a box of shrimp paste and a packet of salted fish. Oh, so sweet. I cherished the token of appreciation and was almost moved to tears. The charming husband and wife doctors (so sorry that I forgot their names) gave Chang and I a lift back to Alor Setar. Believe it or not, by the time I went home, the cold had left me.
For more info about Mercy Malaysia, kindly check www.mercy.org.my.
On 21 May morning, Ling, my sister was driving at great speed heading towards Sungai Petani and then she turned around and said something like this: “Don’t worry, you will arrive on time.” This is how my family shows their love to me. They normally are very supportive in whatever I do in my life. So, I arrived in Sungai Petani on time. Actually, I was very excited about this despite the fact that I had caught a cold and had been tired.
O.K, let’s get back to the story, the night before, I had visualized ourselves (the volunteers) setting up an outdoor mobile clinic under a luxuriant tree in a village, where abashed children hiding behind their mothers’ bums. I had even visualized myself giving medicines to the children. Seriously speaking, I really believed that I was coming close to becoming like the saintly Mother Teresa.
So, I met up with Major Anuar at a restaurant. Chang, the medical graduate and Dr. Halim were also there. (I met them during the 3 days 2 nights basic mission training organized by Mercy Malaysia.) There, we were having breakfast, talking and laughing away. After a while, other volunteers namely 2 female doctors and 5 community nurses from Penang General Hospital led by sister Mahiran arrived and joined us. Go, go, girl power. In fact, sister Mahiran just came back from Pakistan.
After breakfast, we started our journey to Kampung Segantang Garam, a supposedly riverside village, where its inhabitants work as farmers and fishermen. Along the journey, Major Anuar told us inspiring yet nerve-breaking stories about his many mission trips to countries like Pakistan, Sudan, Jordan, Aceh in Indonesia. According to him, the security forces in Aceh were so corrupted and brutal that they demanded money from him when he asked them to escort him to transport the medical supplies and goods to tsunami-hit areas.
Our car was moving along a road flanked by strikingly green paddy fields in the middle of nowhere. Then, what came into sight were these brand new concrete houses. This is the community centre of the village. There were many people there who were mainly the villagers. In the compound, women were busy with food preparation while the men were busy stirring the dish cooked in a massive wok. It seemed that there would be a feast later. Actually, it was a community-bonding programme organized by the district government. There was an exhibition of local handicrafts and products as well as an exhibition by the fire brigade department. Wait a minute, this was not what I visualized the night before. Actually, I was a bit disappointed though. Hehehe.
So, we carried boxes of medical supplies from the cars to the nursery. We turned the nursery into a temporary clinic. The walls were embellished with children’s drawings and posters of alphabets. Two girls were in charge of the registration desks outside the nursery while two guys were willingly being the patients controllers. I joined sister Mahiran and three other sweet looking community nurses to be the medicine dispensers. There were also two medical officers from the district health clinic joining us, not to mention the very charming husband and wife doctors from Putra Medical Centre, Alor Setar.
Every patient was given a blood pressure test. Many elderly had old-folk-sicknesses such as hypertension. Some of the patients were suffering from skin fungal infections. So, we gave them anti-fungal cream. Those who were proved to be free from all sicknesses were given vitamin C. I looked cluelessly at the neatly arranged medicine on the table and realized that the reason I was invited to join the mobile clinic was to learn how to serve the people. I totally appreciated it.
I mostly helped to pack the pills into small packets. After all, I wasn’t experienced enough to read the doctors hand writing. Those pills are normally with 8 or more alphabets and end with `ton’ such as Pharmaton, Triniton?!! and so-and-so ton. It was indeed a learning experience of the whole new medical world.
Time past by without notice, it was time to wrap things up. We were invited to have lunch there. All of us were seated on a mat and eating authentic Malay cuisine such as pucuk nangka ikan bilis masak gulai, ikan kering goreng and sambal belacan with rice.
Before we headed off, each of us was given a goodie bag consist of a packet of fish crackers, a packet of dried shrimps, a box of shrimp paste and a packet of salted fish. Oh, so sweet. I cherished the token of appreciation and was almost moved to tears. The charming husband and wife doctors (so sorry that I forgot their names) gave Chang and I a lift back to Alor Setar. Believe it or not, by the time I went home, the cold had left me.
For more info about Mercy Malaysia, kindly check www.mercy.org.my.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Sexploit
Many years ago, I was in Bangkok, having a drink with my girlfriends at a restaurant of a budget hotel.(No, I wasn't in Patpong, the red light district)Then, I saw a huge farang in jeans and shirt heading towards the guy at the counter. Then, I saw the guy making a phone call.
That farang trudged towards us and retired himself next to our table. After a while, the guy at the counter came over with a beautiful local girl. Then, I got the picture- a pimp, a sex worker, a client and it was merely seen as a business at face value. Nowadays, destroying someone's soul has become a business.
The lady seated herself next to the farang. Silence hung in the air like a wilted hope. I turned around to look at her cos I sensed she was looking at me. I looked into her eyes searchingly and she looked into mine. Before I could say a word, the farang stood up and she tailed behind him.
I saw her back disappearing through the door of the lift, where she would be propelled into the darkness with her pride and dignity brutally stripped off and trashed until the beast inside him was wholly satisfied. At the moment, I could feel despair seep into my heart. By then, I had learnt well enough that the world had other ways of breaking a human being.
Being a Malaysian woman of Chinese-Thai parentage and a minor to be exact, I had gone through sexism and racial discrimination in my life but because of God's grace is always sufficient, for his power is always made perfect in weakness, I somehow didn't drift into self-destruction. (To befriend gays, sex-workers, transvestites and gangsters is not really called self-destruction, is it?)
I remember there were times when disappointing reactions and verbal harassments were thrown at me simply because of my ethnic background. Of course, I would stand up to confront and correct them in order to reclaim what is rightfully mine, dignity.
When I started to trace my roots in Thailand, I was deeply shocked and distressed to see the insidious impact Imperialism, or in other word means Tourism has been doing to Thailand. It is really clear that the descendents of the ex-imperialists have come back with a vengeance and the hearts to complete what their forefathers had failed to do (Thailand has never been colonialized.). This time with more brutal tactic-sexploit!
It really perturbed me a lot every time I saw an old farang with his rented` Thai wife' who was young enough to be his granddaughter. This is not just a sexploit; this is a way for them to prove their superiority! They are here to torch the self-esteem and dignity of the Thai women in order to boost theirs.
There are here to bait the Thais into believing that the only way to get out of poverty is to work as a sex worker to serve the farangs. Then, they cunningly twist the plot around and masquerade themselves as some kind of Messiahs, who are here to part the sea of poverty and lead people to a so called better life!
I know prostitution has been wrong-footed in Thailand long before the American G.Is flooded Bangkok and Pattaya on `Rest and Recreation' tours that had opened door to sex tourism in Thailand back in the Vietnam War era. You, as a visitor or expat in Thailand, do you think this is a positive contribution or being respectful towards your host country?
Is prostitution the only way to get out of poverty? I doubt it and certainly do not buy this idea. Unfortunately, there are many Thai women (ok, I know in Thailand they are called `Isan' women, not 'Thai' women. You see, they are even despised by their own people) have embraced this erroneous belief and this erroneous belief has been driving them. If one person telling you that it is better to work as a sex worker because there is nothing else you can do better than this, you will probably ignore it. Imagine when 10 people are telling you the same thing, you will surely consider it. You become what you believe, as simple as that.
Deep in my heart, I believe that there will come a day when sexploit against the women of my ancestor's land will end just like how I believe that one day the great dragon will be hurled down- that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who has been leading the whole world astray!
That farang trudged towards us and retired himself next to our table. After a while, the guy at the counter came over with a beautiful local girl. Then, I got the picture- a pimp, a sex worker, a client and it was merely seen as a business at face value. Nowadays, destroying someone's soul has become a business.
The lady seated herself next to the farang. Silence hung in the air like a wilted hope. I turned around to look at her cos I sensed she was looking at me. I looked into her eyes searchingly and she looked into mine. Before I could say a word, the farang stood up and she tailed behind him.
I saw her back disappearing through the door of the lift, where she would be propelled into the darkness with her pride and dignity brutally stripped off and trashed until the beast inside him was wholly satisfied. At the moment, I could feel despair seep into my heart. By then, I had learnt well enough that the world had other ways of breaking a human being.
Being a Malaysian woman of Chinese-Thai parentage and a minor to be exact, I had gone through sexism and racial discrimination in my life but because of God's grace is always sufficient, for his power is always made perfect in weakness, I somehow didn't drift into self-destruction. (To befriend gays, sex-workers, transvestites and gangsters is not really called self-destruction, is it?)
I remember there were times when disappointing reactions and verbal harassments were thrown at me simply because of my ethnic background. Of course, I would stand up to confront and correct them in order to reclaim what is rightfully mine, dignity.
When I started to trace my roots in Thailand, I was deeply shocked and distressed to see the insidious impact Imperialism, or in other word means Tourism has been doing to Thailand. It is really clear that the descendents of the ex-imperialists have come back with a vengeance and the hearts to complete what their forefathers had failed to do (Thailand has never been colonialized.). This time with more brutal tactic-sexploit!
It really perturbed me a lot every time I saw an old farang with his rented` Thai wife' who was young enough to be his granddaughter. This is not just a sexploit; this is a way for them to prove their superiority! They are here to torch the self-esteem and dignity of the Thai women in order to boost theirs.
There are here to bait the Thais into believing that the only way to get out of poverty is to work as a sex worker to serve the farangs. Then, they cunningly twist the plot around and masquerade themselves as some kind of Messiahs, who are here to part the sea of poverty and lead people to a so called better life!
I know prostitution has been wrong-footed in Thailand long before the American G.Is flooded Bangkok and Pattaya on `Rest and Recreation' tours that had opened door to sex tourism in Thailand back in the Vietnam War era. You, as a visitor or expat in Thailand, do you think this is a positive contribution or being respectful towards your host country?
Is prostitution the only way to get out of poverty? I doubt it and certainly do not buy this idea. Unfortunately, there are many Thai women (ok, I know in Thailand they are called `Isan' women, not 'Thai' women. You see, they are even despised by their own people) have embraced this erroneous belief and this erroneous belief has been driving them. If one person telling you that it is better to work as a sex worker because there is nothing else you can do better than this, you will probably ignore it. Imagine when 10 people are telling you the same thing, you will surely consider it. You become what you believe, as simple as that.
Deep in my heart, I believe that there will come a day when sexploit against the women of my ancestor's land will end just like how I believe that one day the great dragon will be hurled down- that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who has been leading the whole world astray!
Sunday, June 18, 2006
'In Razr Way' Party @ Bed Supper Club, BKK.
When I heard that D.J Malik Alary of Hotel Costes was going to spin his way to Bed Supperclub for MOTORAZR V3's `In Razr Way’ Party on Oct. 12 last year, I told myself that I had to be there no matter what.The sexy tunes of the compilation albums of Hotel Costes are just so seductive.
So, when I went to Toolbox Media office , Bangkok to do my writing on the computer as usual, I saw this 'In Razr Way' Party black invitation card lying on my editor's desk nakedly as if to seduce me to get hold of it. So, I did.
Since he wasn't really into partying anymore, he gave the invitation card to me. In return, I aggreed to bring along five copies of Untamed Travel magazines to give away in the party.
So, on that Wednesday night, I went to Sukhumvit, the uptown of Bangkok where the rich and famous dwell.
At the entrance, I handed my invitation card to the lady in white and spoke confidently in English accented English (not Manglish, Singlish or Thailish) as if I was a well-bred Oxford-educated Anglofile. I was handed a press card and a press kit.
So, there I was at Bed Supperclub, a glass of red wine in one hand and a camera in another hand, what else could be better than this on Wednesday night. The tiny illuminated stage was there waiting for models to strike poses for the awaiting press people, I was one of them, of course. The two big screens were occupied by Motorola’s logos, constantly spinning to the tunes. A voice said: Hello Moto”. I replied “Hello”.
By the time I finished my third glass of red wine, I was still sober enough to count my fingers correctly. The models finally started cat walking to the stage with fashion that designed to match the slick and chic MOTORAZR V3. Every model had a MOTORAZR V3 in one hand or hooked to their outfits.
The party featured the creations of 4 young designers namely Pisith Sirihamarat, Kittikorn Kongtabag, Chatree Theng-Ha and T-Ra Chantasawasdee. There was a long break after every show to give everyone enough time to grab another drink or two. The fashion shows were cool enough to look like the fashion shows straight out of Fashion T.V.
Actually, there were many celebrities, socialites and just famous people around but I could hardly figure out who-is-who cos I wasn't really into the`scene' but everyone seemed to be quite friendly.
Of course, the music was up to my expectation; after all, D.J Malik didn't come all the way to Bangkok to disappoint his fans. Bed's resident D.J, Josh spinned great tunes in between sets in the early hours before D.J Malik took over completely. The press people left after the fashion shows but I stayed back When D.J Malik started to spin Latin House, I knew it was time to ditch the camera and dance.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Happy Father's Day
This photo was taken by Martyn Goodacre.June 18 is Father's Day. So, Happy Father's Day to my father, my Heavenly Father and all fathers out there. (Martyn, I hope you don't mind me posting this photo on my blog, Happy Father's Day to you too.)
Friday, June 16, 2006
Book review: Policing the Malaysian Police.
What I like about the NGOs in Malaysia is that they don't give a damn about anything when it comes to upholding human rights and justice. Read the book called Policing the Malaysian police' published by Malaysia's leading human rights organization called Suaram and you will know what I mean.
The recent spate of stories about the video footage of a naked Malaysia woman (at first mistaken as a Chinese national), performing squats in front of female police officer in Malaysia, supposedly to see if she had any drugs stashed in her privates, made headlines across Asia. Comparing this case to the cases mentioned in this book, this case is just a tip on the iceberg.
This book tells the horrifying truth (without the need to sensationalize it) of torture, brutality, corruption, discrimination, abuse of power by the Malaysian police, which the mainstream Malaysian media have decided to keep as skeletons in the closet.
The book contains a series of memorandums submitted by various NGOs to The Royal Commission on The Malaysian Police.
The Foreword of the book was written by Dato' K.C Vohrah, the commissioner from SUHAKAM (Malaysian Human Rights Commission), calling the Malaysian government to ratify The Convention against Torture, which has been subscribed by 125 countries.
Kua Kia Soong, the editor of this book as well as the then director of Suaram, questions why The Royal Commission on The Malaysian Police is only restricted to overseeing their operation and management, not about holding them accountable for cases od criminal conduct and abuses of authority.
He cites that there were 588 rape cases and 250 murder cases in the first five months of year 2005, which indicate that the Malaysian police failed to fulfill the five functions of the police, such as crime prevention, arrest, security, detection and maintaining public order, which are stated in The Police Act 1987.
The book is divided into five chapters, policing the Malaysian police in cases such as police shootings and death in custody, torture under the Internal Security Act (Memorandum submitted by the Abolish ISA Movement), police brutality at public assemblies (memorandum submitted by Suaram), corruption and abuse of the migrants (memorandum submitted by Tenaganita), not to mention discrimination against the poor and marginalized communities (memorandum submitted by Jerit). Last but not least, abuse of police powers (memorandum submitted by the Coalition of Malaysian NGOs) as the Conclusion of the book.
The book highlights the latest case of police shooting which caused the death of 22-year-old Nagandren A/L Bhoopalan, leaving behind a 20-year-old widow (who was 4 months pregnant when the incident took place) and 6 months old daughter. The shooting took place when the driver of the lorry didn't halt when ordered to do so. Nagandren, a passenger was shot dead instead.
According to the report, there are horrifying pictures which depict that all his finger nails were torn out, not to mention injury marks on his body and forehead. Victim's widow then made a police report, saying that her husband was captured alive, tortured before he was shot dead.
Of course, the most infamous case in this book has to be the case of Anwar Ibrahim, our former deputy prime minister, who was detained under the ISA on 20 Sept.1998. He was held incommunicado for 9 days and then brought to court with bruises and a black eye.
At the same, Dr. Munawar Ahmad Anees and Sukma Dermawan were charged and convicted under the Penal Code for ' unnatural sexual acts'. They both pleaded guilty after being intensively tortured. According to Dr. Munawar, he was stripped and forced to re-enact homosexual acts in front of police officers. That year, the world witnessed 50,000 Malaysians marching to the streets to protest against the government. Of course, the peaceful demonstration turned into riot when the Federal Reserve Unit (FRU) of the police corps arrived; they attempted to disperse the demonstrators with teargas, water cannon laced with chemicals and batons. It was the biggest uprising ever took place in Malaysian history. This show of police force violated Article 10 of the Federal Constitution which read: "Freedom of speech, assembly and expression (b) All citizens have the right to assemble peacefully and without arms (c) All citizens have the right to form association."
Policing the Malaysian Police is an academic work that makes a great reference source. It also put forth a persuasive argument that state-sanctioned violence will never inspire peace and obedience. For more information on this book, see the NGO/ publisher's website at: www.suaram.net
The recent spate of stories about the video footage of a naked Malaysia woman (at first mistaken as a Chinese national), performing squats in front of female police officer in Malaysia, supposedly to see if she had any drugs stashed in her privates, made headlines across Asia. Comparing this case to the cases mentioned in this book, this case is just a tip on the iceberg.
This book tells the horrifying truth (without the need to sensationalize it) of torture, brutality, corruption, discrimination, abuse of power by the Malaysian police, which the mainstream Malaysian media have decided to keep as skeletons in the closet.
The book contains a series of memorandums submitted by various NGOs to The Royal Commission on The Malaysian Police.
The Foreword of the book was written by Dato' K.C Vohrah, the commissioner from SUHAKAM (Malaysian Human Rights Commission), calling the Malaysian government to ratify The Convention against Torture, which has been subscribed by 125 countries.
Kua Kia Soong, the editor of this book as well as the then director of Suaram, questions why The Royal Commission on The Malaysian Police is only restricted to overseeing their operation and management, not about holding them accountable for cases od criminal conduct and abuses of authority.
He cites that there were 588 rape cases and 250 murder cases in the first five months of year 2005, which indicate that the Malaysian police failed to fulfill the five functions of the police, such as crime prevention, arrest, security, detection and maintaining public order, which are stated in The Police Act 1987.
The book is divided into five chapters, policing the Malaysian police in cases such as police shootings and death in custody, torture under the Internal Security Act (Memorandum submitted by the Abolish ISA Movement), police brutality at public assemblies (memorandum submitted by Suaram), corruption and abuse of the migrants (memorandum submitted by Tenaganita), not to mention discrimination against the poor and marginalized communities (memorandum submitted by Jerit). Last but not least, abuse of police powers (memorandum submitted by the Coalition of Malaysian NGOs) as the Conclusion of the book.
The book highlights the latest case of police shooting which caused the death of 22-year-old Nagandren A/L Bhoopalan, leaving behind a 20-year-old widow (who was 4 months pregnant when the incident took place) and 6 months old daughter. The shooting took place when the driver of the lorry didn't halt when ordered to do so. Nagandren, a passenger was shot dead instead.
According to the report, there are horrifying pictures which depict that all his finger nails were torn out, not to mention injury marks on his body and forehead. Victim's widow then made a police report, saying that her husband was captured alive, tortured before he was shot dead.
Of course, the most infamous case in this book has to be the case of Anwar Ibrahim, our former deputy prime minister, who was detained under the ISA on 20 Sept.1998. He was held incommunicado for 9 days and then brought to court with bruises and a black eye.
At the same, Dr. Munawar Ahmad Anees and Sukma Dermawan were charged and convicted under the Penal Code for ' unnatural sexual acts'. They both pleaded guilty after being intensively tortured. According to Dr. Munawar, he was stripped and forced to re-enact homosexual acts in front of police officers. That year, the world witnessed 50,000 Malaysians marching to the streets to protest against the government. Of course, the peaceful demonstration turned into riot when the Federal Reserve Unit (FRU) of the police corps arrived; they attempted to disperse the demonstrators with teargas, water cannon laced with chemicals and batons. It was the biggest uprising ever took place in Malaysian history. This show of police force violated Article 10 of the Federal Constitution which read: "Freedom of speech, assembly and expression (b) All citizens have the right to assemble peacefully and without arms (c) All citizens have the right to form association."
Policing the Malaysian Police is an academic work that makes a great reference source. It also put forth a persuasive argument that state-sanctioned violence will never inspire peace and obedience. For more information on this book, see the NGO/ publisher's website at: www.suaram.net
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Silver Screen: Kaki Bakar. (The Arsonist)
U-Wei Haji Saari is a very passionate filmmaker. I am saying this because I believe that whatever you do in your life, if you do it with so much passion, you will surely rise up high sooner or later. U-Wei Haji Saari has certainly risen up high cos he is the first Malaysian filmmaker to be invited to have his movie screened at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival in 1995.
U-Wei Haji Saari, who hails from his hometown Pahang in Malaysia, studied filmmaking at the New York School for Social Research in New York City.
In Malaysia, commercial filmmakers have to succumb to the strict and almost absurd regulations of the Film Censorship Board in order to have their films gaining access to the public.
This means that any film that contains the element of negative influences that will threaten 'the national security and racial harmony' will risk being banned by the Film Censorship Board.
U-Wei Haji Saari’s critically acclaimed film called 'Kaki Bakar' (The arsonist) is one such film, which was banned by the Film Censorship Board for 6 years before it was given 'green light' in 2004 to have limited screenings at selected cinemas.
The story of Kaki Bakar is so sincere and honest that it is considered intimidating and insulting by certain parties. The story is an adaptation of a short story called 'Barn Burning' by William Faulkner. The story is about Kakang, an immigrant from Indonesia, who migrated to Malaysia. Before he migrated to Malaysia, he was a warrior back in Java. He had fought the Dutch. The Dutch had left for good but the spirit and pride of a warrior is still trapped inside him. The thing he knows best is to fight against oppression.
The movie starts off with a scenario, where Kakang (Kalid Salleh), is accused of setting fire to a house. In the movie, Kalid Salleh delivers a very convincing portrayal of the character.
His son Kesuma who is the witness refuses to testify against his father by remaining silence when he is questioned by the chef of the village. Eventually, the chef commands them to leave the village for good.
So, Kakang packs his belongings together with his wife, two daughters and son on the back of a truck and be on the journey in quest of a place to settle down again. At night, they halt in the middle of no where to camp out.
Over and over again through out the movie, Kakang tries hard to instill in Kasuma with the Javanese spirit. As a result, Kesuma has to constantly wrestle with his inner conflicting feelings towards his father, who he loves and hates at the same time.
The story climaxes when Kakang and Kesuma go to a bungalow in a village with a job prospect in mind but only to be 'shooed' away by the maid and the mistress of the bungalow.
On their way back, they bump into Tuan Kassim (Jamaluddin Kadir), the owner of the bungalow and the rubber estate, who then gives Kakang the job as rubber taper.
The following day, Tuan Kassim's assistant sends a carpet to Kakang to have it washed by the whole family. Unfortunately, the carpet is ruined due to wrong carpet-washing-method. So, Tuan Kassim demands Kakang to pay RM400 (USD100) for the ruined carpet.
Tuan Kassim knows well enough that Kakang is not in a good financial position to pay him the money. So, Tuan Kassim suggests deducting the money from Kakang's salary. It is so clear that the ruined-carpet-incident has been plotted to exploit Kakang.
At night, Kakang sits outside his house and starts singing a song with lyrics such as:" Human beings should be considerate toward each other", with his eyes brimmed with tears.
He eventually regards the matter to the chef of the village. Somehow, the chef of the village and the juries think that he ought to pay for the ruined carpet.
With raging Javanese spirit, he goes on to torch the rubber storeroom. The movie has a tragic ending cos Kakang is shot dead by Tuan Kassim. Personally, I think the real arsonist is Tuan Kassim, who has torched the spirit, pride and dignity of mankind. Sad but true, there are so many such idiots on earth.
So, here you go, the first Malaysian film that made it to the Cannes Film Festival geared with good adapted script, brilliant casting, and superb cinematography and most importantly, great directing.
U-Wei Haji Saari, who hails from his hometown Pahang in Malaysia, studied filmmaking at the New York School for Social Research in New York City.
In Malaysia, commercial filmmakers have to succumb to the strict and almost absurd regulations of the Film Censorship Board in order to have their films gaining access to the public.
This means that any film that contains the element of negative influences that will threaten 'the national security and racial harmony' will risk being banned by the Film Censorship Board.
U-Wei Haji Saari’s critically acclaimed film called 'Kaki Bakar' (The arsonist) is one such film, which was banned by the Film Censorship Board for 6 years before it was given 'green light' in 2004 to have limited screenings at selected cinemas.
The story of Kaki Bakar is so sincere and honest that it is considered intimidating and insulting by certain parties. The story is an adaptation of a short story called 'Barn Burning' by William Faulkner. The story is about Kakang, an immigrant from Indonesia, who migrated to Malaysia. Before he migrated to Malaysia, he was a warrior back in Java. He had fought the Dutch. The Dutch had left for good but the spirit and pride of a warrior is still trapped inside him. The thing he knows best is to fight against oppression.
The movie starts off with a scenario, where Kakang (Kalid Salleh), is accused of setting fire to a house. In the movie, Kalid Salleh delivers a very convincing portrayal of the character.
His son Kesuma who is the witness refuses to testify against his father by remaining silence when he is questioned by the chef of the village. Eventually, the chef commands them to leave the village for good.
So, Kakang packs his belongings together with his wife, two daughters and son on the back of a truck and be on the journey in quest of a place to settle down again. At night, they halt in the middle of no where to camp out.
Over and over again through out the movie, Kakang tries hard to instill in Kasuma with the Javanese spirit. As a result, Kesuma has to constantly wrestle with his inner conflicting feelings towards his father, who he loves and hates at the same time.
The story climaxes when Kakang and Kesuma go to a bungalow in a village with a job prospect in mind but only to be 'shooed' away by the maid and the mistress of the bungalow.
On their way back, they bump into Tuan Kassim (Jamaluddin Kadir), the owner of the bungalow and the rubber estate, who then gives Kakang the job as rubber taper.
The following day, Tuan Kassim's assistant sends a carpet to Kakang to have it washed by the whole family. Unfortunately, the carpet is ruined due to wrong carpet-washing-method. So, Tuan Kassim demands Kakang to pay RM400 (USD100) for the ruined carpet.
Tuan Kassim knows well enough that Kakang is not in a good financial position to pay him the money. So, Tuan Kassim suggests deducting the money from Kakang's salary. It is so clear that the ruined-carpet-incident has been plotted to exploit Kakang.
At night, Kakang sits outside his house and starts singing a song with lyrics such as:" Human beings should be considerate toward each other", with his eyes brimmed with tears.
He eventually regards the matter to the chef of the village. Somehow, the chef of the village and the juries think that he ought to pay for the ruined carpet.
With raging Javanese spirit, he goes on to torch the rubber storeroom. The movie has a tragic ending cos Kakang is shot dead by Tuan Kassim. Personally, I think the real arsonist is Tuan Kassim, who has torched the spirit, pride and dignity of mankind. Sad but true, there are so many such idiots on earth.
So, here you go, the first Malaysian film that made it to the Cannes Film Festival geared with good adapted script, brilliant casting, and superb cinematography and most importantly, great directing.
Getting emotional...
The 6 months chapter of my life back in Malaysia is about to end, I guess. I just have this feeling that I have to leave soon, probably back to Bangkok to start my life anew or just to settle my unfinished chapter in Bangkok that was left behind 6 months ago before I came back to Malaysia. Everything seems uncertain right now but life has to go on. Feeling like crying again just to think about the unknown, uncertainty that await me out there. As usual, I will be totally on my own again, on the train journey alone, reaching out to the unknown alone. I just hope that when I cry out to God again, He will say:I am here.
Sometimes, it is really difficult to walk by faith, not by sight but I know Christ is always with me...
Sometimes, it is really difficult to walk by faith, not by sight but I know Christ is always with me...
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Chasing Amy in Poipet, Cambodia.
6 years ago, I took the morning train at 5.55am from Bangkok to Aranyaprathat. I remember well there were only a few people on the train. For me, it was an unforgettable train journey. It was the first time I travelled on a third class train. On the third class train, wooden benches,babies with searching eyes, peasants with ebony skin are what you get along the train journey to your next destination.
Recently, I took the afternoon train at 1.00 PM from Bangkok to Aranyaprathat because I couldn’t make it in the morning. The journey was a bit of nostalgia but this time it was jam packed with people. I anxiously fell asleep while the train was rattling on. I was anxious about whether I would manage to cross the border on time.
The train arrived on time. It was 6.00 PM. I had no idea what time the Thai-Cambodian border would close but I knew it wouldn’t close at 4.00pm just like what the officer at the tourist Info Counter at the train station told me. The sky started turning into the light hue of gray. Without a moment to waste, I hopped on to the first motorbike taxi that came into sight. It was really comforting that the driver is a female so that I could lean on her back tightly while she was zooming at great speed straight to the border. I found myself having fun despite the anxiety.
The border still looked very much like the border I crossed 6 years ago except that now there are a few new, well polished white buildings, which looks completely out of place in places like Poipet, the forever red dirt-propelling Cambodian border town which was rated as one of the most dangerous places in Cambodia. The funny thing is that these buildings which serve as hotel cum casino are either in Thailand or Cambodia. They are cleverly situated in between Thai and Cambodian border. It is like a cruise ship sailing off to international water so that law no longer confines gambling.
So, I got my passport stamped at the Thai border before I walked across the ‘international land of casino hotels’ and landed myself at the Cambodian border. I could easily walk past the immigration checkpoint into Cambodia but I didn’t because there is no need to. Look at Poipet, who wants to spend time in Poipet unless one has a mission to accomplish. Yes, I had a mission to accomplish; I was trying to track down Amy. Amy is a Chinese-American who was in Poipet to work as a volunteer for a NGO.
She wrote to me via email the name of the hotel she stayed and her mobile phone but I didn’t call her cos I knew I could handle Poipet. Thank goodness there was a God-sent Cambodia angel who assisted me since I arrived at the Thai border. He was helpful without wanting anything from me. That was very beautiful and comforting.
I hopped on to one of the many motorbike taxis. If I was at the wrong place at the wrong time, I could have been abducted and sent straight away to a brothel just like many children and women in Camdodia, who were sold to the brothels by their parents, relatives or friends in the name of poverty. Of course, that didn’t happen to me. I had fear but I wouldn't let fear to stop me. I was sent to Ngee Heng Hotel instead, where Amy stayed. I bumped into Amy when I arrived. Later, I went to knock on her door but she wasn't there.
Next morning, I went to knock on Amy’s door but still no answer from her. So, I ventured out to the dirt propelling streets of Poipet on my own. I felt terribly uneasy to be on my own because I knew I was in Cambodia, a very depressing country that will unveil some sort of human sufferings right before my very eyes especially when I am unprepared to take it all in. Thank goodness, it hadn’t happened just yet.
There is only one main dirt road in Poipet. Many two-story bungalows or shop houses flank this few kilometers-long road. Many of these bungalows serve as budget hotels. Anything that hides behind these bungalows and shop houses is a slum, where the poor of the poor live.
I discovered a well-hidden market place where I spent one hour trying hard to finish my white noodle soup that left a very weird taste in my month. I quickly went back to the hotel just to cocoon myself in my comfortable room and waited for Amy to knock on my door. Knocking on my door she did. I opened the door and saw this energetic and all cheerful Amy smiling away. `Gosh, what kind of strength she has to keep on smiling in a place like Poipet.’ I thought.
So, we went to the market area again. We were savouring on Cambodian-style somtam and other snacks. As we ate on, a few skinny-as-insect and skinhead elderly women came begging. When they started to wai to us, we just couldn’t turn them away.
According to Amy, many of them were diagnosed with AIDS. In Poipet alone, the AIDS cases are alarmingly high. They are basically waiting for Death to knock on their doors because the government hospital can’t really afford to provide them medication.
After that, Amy took me to the office of Cambodian Hope Organization, the NGO where she volunteered. There, Mr.Chomno, the founder of the NGO was there to greet us. So, I threw him a few questions about what the NGO has been doing in Poipet.
According to him, Cambodian Hope Organization initiates development programmes such as offering free basic skills training to the locals. Once the people manage to master the skills, they will be able to make a decent living to help themselves to generate income with their new skills.
CHO is a Christian organization that envisions a complete network of strong, hope-filled communities, where all formerly vulnerable individual will enjoy adequate physical, psychological and spiritual welfare. One of the many development programmes is carpet weaving. The NGO workers will go to the villages to train the villagers how to weave small pieces of carpets, which later will be collected and send to Bangkok to be assembled into big carpets. During my visit, 28 families who participated in this programme had managed to send their children to schools.
Apart from that, CHO also promotes child rights and works with other NGOs and authorities to stop child trafficking in Cambodia, not to mention promoting primary health care and HIV/AIDS care and awareness via its outreach programmes.
CHO also arranges home-based vegetable cultivation programme by providing training, demonstration and follow up support. Last but not least, CHO provide spiritual guidance via evangelism and mixed media message.
Later, Mr.Chomno took us to Hope and Health Food Restaurant, which is located near to the office. All the proceeds from the restaurant will go to the hospice in Poipet. There, we met an American couple who were there having dinner with their 3 children and at least 5 adopted Cambodian children. The couple was eating at one table while all the kids were having their meal on another table next to them.
After the meal, one of the adopted boys came over and gave his newfound mother a hug. At that very moment, I could few the presence of love. According to the couple, they would build an orphanage to take in more children. Suddenly, Poipet became beautiful and filled with so much love, joy and hope. I guess that was the reason that kept Amy smiling in Poipet.
On Sunday morning, we went to the restaurant again to attend the Sunday mass. It was such a moving experience to be there to hear beautiful songs of worship sung in Khmer. The melodic strumming sound of guitar accompanied by soothing sound of choir-like singing gently sipped into everyone’s ear and heart. Suddenly, my eyes were brimmed with tears of joy because I knew they have called Jesus their Savior. I know very well that God will see them through the many trials of life just like how He has been seeing me through.
Looking at their faces, I knew Christianity was not forced down their throats. After all, I don’t believe that you can force people to believe what you believe. It has to be one’s own free will.
That Sunday afternoon, I left Poipet with hope and renewed strength to face the constant madness in Bangkok again- the traffic jam and the exhaust fume.
Those of you who are interested to be a volunteer or to make donation, you can always drop a line or two to Mr. Chomno via e-mail: chomno@yahoo.com or snail mail: House 144A, Group02, Palalai Village, Poi Pet Commune, O’Chrov District, Banteay Meanchey Province.
Recently, I took the afternoon train at 1.00 PM from Bangkok to Aranyaprathat because I couldn’t make it in the morning. The journey was a bit of nostalgia but this time it was jam packed with people. I anxiously fell asleep while the train was rattling on. I was anxious about whether I would manage to cross the border on time.
The train arrived on time. It was 6.00 PM. I had no idea what time the Thai-Cambodian border would close but I knew it wouldn’t close at 4.00pm just like what the officer at the tourist Info Counter at the train station told me. The sky started turning into the light hue of gray. Without a moment to waste, I hopped on to the first motorbike taxi that came into sight. It was really comforting that the driver is a female so that I could lean on her back tightly while she was zooming at great speed straight to the border. I found myself having fun despite the anxiety.
The border still looked very much like the border I crossed 6 years ago except that now there are a few new, well polished white buildings, which looks completely out of place in places like Poipet, the forever red dirt-propelling Cambodian border town which was rated as one of the most dangerous places in Cambodia. The funny thing is that these buildings which serve as hotel cum casino are either in Thailand or Cambodia. They are cleverly situated in between Thai and Cambodian border. It is like a cruise ship sailing off to international water so that law no longer confines gambling.
So, I got my passport stamped at the Thai border before I walked across the ‘international land of casino hotels’ and landed myself at the Cambodian border. I could easily walk past the immigration checkpoint into Cambodia but I didn’t because there is no need to. Look at Poipet, who wants to spend time in Poipet unless one has a mission to accomplish. Yes, I had a mission to accomplish; I was trying to track down Amy. Amy is a Chinese-American who was in Poipet to work as a volunteer for a NGO.
She wrote to me via email the name of the hotel she stayed and her mobile phone but I didn’t call her cos I knew I could handle Poipet. Thank goodness there was a God-sent Cambodia angel who assisted me since I arrived at the Thai border. He was helpful without wanting anything from me. That was very beautiful and comforting.
I hopped on to one of the many motorbike taxis. If I was at the wrong place at the wrong time, I could have been abducted and sent straight away to a brothel just like many children and women in Camdodia, who were sold to the brothels by their parents, relatives or friends in the name of poverty. Of course, that didn’t happen to me. I had fear but I wouldn't let fear to stop me. I was sent to Ngee Heng Hotel instead, where Amy stayed. I bumped into Amy when I arrived. Later, I went to knock on her door but she wasn't there.
Next morning, I went to knock on Amy’s door but still no answer from her. So, I ventured out to the dirt propelling streets of Poipet on my own. I felt terribly uneasy to be on my own because I knew I was in Cambodia, a very depressing country that will unveil some sort of human sufferings right before my very eyes especially when I am unprepared to take it all in. Thank goodness, it hadn’t happened just yet.
There is only one main dirt road in Poipet. Many two-story bungalows or shop houses flank this few kilometers-long road. Many of these bungalows serve as budget hotels. Anything that hides behind these bungalows and shop houses is a slum, where the poor of the poor live.
I discovered a well-hidden market place where I spent one hour trying hard to finish my white noodle soup that left a very weird taste in my month. I quickly went back to the hotel just to cocoon myself in my comfortable room and waited for Amy to knock on my door. Knocking on my door she did. I opened the door and saw this energetic and all cheerful Amy smiling away. `Gosh, what kind of strength she has to keep on smiling in a place like Poipet.’ I thought.
So, we went to the market area again. We were savouring on Cambodian-style somtam and other snacks. As we ate on, a few skinny-as-insect and skinhead elderly women came begging. When they started to wai to us, we just couldn’t turn them away.
According to Amy, many of them were diagnosed with AIDS. In Poipet alone, the AIDS cases are alarmingly high. They are basically waiting for Death to knock on their doors because the government hospital can’t really afford to provide them medication.
After that, Amy took me to the office of Cambodian Hope Organization, the NGO where she volunteered. There, Mr.Chomno, the founder of the NGO was there to greet us. So, I threw him a few questions about what the NGO has been doing in Poipet.
According to him, Cambodian Hope Organization initiates development programmes such as offering free basic skills training to the locals. Once the people manage to master the skills, they will be able to make a decent living to help themselves to generate income with their new skills.
CHO is a Christian organization that envisions a complete network of strong, hope-filled communities, where all formerly vulnerable individual will enjoy adequate physical, psychological and spiritual welfare. One of the many development programmes is carpet weaving. The NGO workers will go to the villages to train the villagers how to weave small pieces of carpets, which later will be collected and send to Bangkok to be assembled into big carpets. During my visit, 28 families who participated in this programme had managed to send their children to schools.
Apart from that, CHO also promotes child rights and works with other NGOs and authorities to stop child trafficking in Cambodia, not to mention promoting primary health care and HIV/AIDS care and awareness via its outreach programmes.
CHO also arranges home-based vegetable cultivation programme by providing training, demonstration and follow up support. Last but not least, CHO provide spiritual guidance via evangelism and mixed media message.
Later, Mr.Chomno took us to Hope and Health Food Restaurant, which is located near to the office. All the proceeds from the restaurant will go to the hospice in Poipet. There, we met an American couple who were there having dinner with their 3 children and at least 5 adopted Cambodian children. The couple was eating at one table while all the kids were having their meal on another table next to them.
After the meal, one of the adopted boys came over and gave his newfound mother a hug. At that very moment, I could few the presence of love. According to the couple, they would build an orphanage to take in more children. Suddenly, Poipet became beautiful and filled with so much love, joy and hope. I guess that was the reason that kept Amy smiling in Poipet.
On Sunday morning, we went to the restaurant again to attend the Sunday mass. It was such a moving experience to be there to hear beautiful songs of worship sung in Khmer. The melodic strumming sound of guitar accompanied by soothing sound of choir-like singing gently sipped into everyone’s ear and heart. Suddenly, my eyes were brimmed with tears of joy because I knew they have called Jesus their Savior. I know very well that God will see them through the many trials of life just like how He has been seeing me through.
Looking at their faces, I knew Christianity was not forced down their throats. After all, I don’t believe that you can force people to believe what you believe. It has to be one’s own free will.
That Sunday afternoon, I left Poipet with hope and renewed strength to face the constant madness in Bangkok again- the traffic jam and the exhaust fume.
Those of you who are interested to be a volunteer or to make donation, you can always drop a line or two to Mr. Chomno via e-mail: chomno@yahoo.com or snail mail: House 144A, Group02, Palalai Village, Poi Pet Commune, O’Chrov District, Banteay Meanchey Province.
True fasting
“Shout it aloud, do not hold back. Raise your voice like a trumpet. Declare to my people their rebellion and to the house of Jacob their sins.
For day after day they seek me out;
They seem eager to know my ways,
As if they were a nation that does what is right and has not forsaken the commands of its God.
They ask me for just decisions and seem eager for God to come near them.
`Why have we fasted,’they say,
`and you have not seen it?
Why have we humbled ourselves,
And you have not noticed?”
Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please and exploit all your workers.
Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife,
and in striking each other with wicked fists.
You can not fast as you do today and expect your voice to be heard on high.
Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
only a day for a man to humble himself?
Is it only for bowing one's head like a reed
and for lying on sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast,
a day acceptable to the Lord?
Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen;
to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter,
When you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then the righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
You will cry for help, and he will say: Here I am.
“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.
The Lord will guide you always;
He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
Like a spring whose waters never fail.
Your people will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.
If you keep your feet from breaking the Sabbath
and from doing as you please on my holy day,
if you call the Sabbath a delight and the Lord’s holy day honorable,
and if you honor it by not going your own way
and not doing as you please or speaking idle words,
then you will find joy in the Lord,
and I will cause you to ride on the heights of the land
and feast on the inheritance of your father Jacob.”
The mouth of the Lord has spoken...ISAIAH 58
Monday, June 12, 2006
Literature: The Harmony Silk Factory
I was really thrilled when I discovered The Harmony Silk Factory written by a fellow Malaysian named Tash Aw, who lives in Britain. Finally, a novel by a Malaysian managed to make it big internationally.
The story is about the life of the infamous Chinaman named Johnny Lim, a textile merchant, as well as the owner of the Harmony Silk Factory, which serves as a front for his illegal businesses. The novel also deals with his marriage to the stunning Snow Soong, his involvement with the communists, and his friendship with Peter Wormwood, a wandering Englishman.
The story is set during the era of British colonialism in Malaya, where many 'Malayans' (not yet called Malaysians) tend to "adopt the unfeasible names of matinee idols and end up with names such as Rudolph Chen, Rock Hudson Ho, Mongomery Hashim, Valentino Wong, Cary Gopal and too many Jameses to mention" as the writer puts it. By now, you can tell that the writer has a sharp eye for satire and a great sense of humour.
The story is devided into three parts, starting off Jasper, Johnny Lim's son, tracing his father's life: "Now is a good time to tell his story. At long last, I have put my crime-funded education to good use".
Jasper reveals that Johnny Lim, a communist himself, was the man who plotted the massacre of 15 leaders of Malayan Communist Party, 44 men in total. On Sept 1, 1942, Johnny Lim turned his back against his own people by rounding up the 29 of the most important communists in a limestone cave in Kinta valley and having them bayoneted one at a time by the Japanese Soldiers. Johnny Lim turned out to be the sole survivor. At that point, you can feel the heart-rending frustration and anger of Jasper as he describes the incident.
Speaking from a Malaysian's point of view, this book is not entirely fictional as it is claimed to be. In fact, it is almost controversial because it uncovers the cautionary tales about the communists struggle against British imperialism and the Japanese. These were monumental incidents in the country's evolution, which has been completely singled out from history text book back in Malaysia.
Despite the intensity of the story, this novel is well waxed and polished with poetical prose. Its words frequently seep into your heart to take a siesta. "She died on the day I was born, her body exhausted by the effort of giving me life." Many times, I had to re-read sentences such as this to feel the grace.
The second part is a series of dairy entries written by Snow Soong about her honeymoon trip to the mysterious Seven Maiden Islands, bizarrely accompanied by a Japanese professor named Kunichika Mamoru and Peter Wormwood.
Along the journey, she contemplates breaking up with Johnny and to seek the right time to tell him that. At the same time, she seeks emotional comfort and a sense of intimacy from Kunichika.
"Women are not often on their own: they are constantly surrounded by men-fathers, husbands, sons. Those are the people we live for, whose lives press into ours at every moment. We obey, nurse, nurture and love. But in the end, we always have been alone.” This is the voice of Snow, but it can easily represent the inner voice of every woman. They set off on a boat, which break down and eventually wracked by a storm.
The last part is the account of Peter Wormwood. It answers the questions why he embarked on a journey to Malaya and he crossed path with Johnny, who became his best friend, not to mention his secret longing and love for Snow, his best friend's wife. He also recalls the journey to Seven Maiden Island and how things unfolded through his eyes.
Judging by the depth of the story and its literary value, it is not difficult to see why it was nominated for the Booker Prize in 2005 (but lost to John Banville's The Sea). Somehow, The Harmony Silk Factory went on to become the winner of 2006 Whitbread Book of the Year award. Well done, Tash Aw.
The story is about the life of the infamous Chinaman named Johnny Lim, a textile merchant, as well as the owner of the Harmony Silk Factory, which serves as a front for his illegal businesses. The novel also deals with his marriage to the stunning Snow Soong, his involvement with the communists, and his friendship with Peter Wormwood, a wandering Englishman.The story is set during the era of British colonialism in Malaya, where many 'Malayans' (not yet called Malaysians) tend to "adopt the unfeasible names of matinee idols and end up with names such as Rudolph Chen, Rock Hudson Ho, Mongomery Hashim, Valentino Wong, Cary Gopal and too many Jameses to mention" as the writer puts it. By now, you can tell that the writer has a sharp eye for satire and a great sense of humour.
The story is devided into three parts, starting off Jasper, Johnny Lim's son, tracing his father's life: "Now is a good time to tell his story. At long last, I have put my crime-funded education to good use".
Jasper reveals that Johnny Lim, a communist himself, was the man who plotted the massacre of 15 leaders of Malayan Communist Party, 44 men in total. On Sept 1, 1942, Johnny Lim turned his back against his own people by rounding up the 29 of the most important communists in a limestone cave in Kinta valley and having them bayoneted one at a time by the Japanese Soldiers. Johnny Lim turned out to be the sole survivor. At that point, you can feel the heart-rending frustration and anger of Jasper as he describes the incident.
Speaking from a Malaysian's point of view, this book is not entirely fictional as it is claimed to be. In fact, it is almost controversial because it uncovers the cautionary tales about the communists struggle against British imperialism and the Japanese. These were monumental incidents in the country's evolution, which has been completely singled out from history text book back in Malaysia.
Despite the intensity of the story, this novel is well waxed and polished with poetical prose. Its words frequently seep into your heart to take a siesta. "She died on the day I was born, her body exhausted by the effort of giving me life." Many times, I had to re-read sentences such as this to feel the grace.
The second part is a series of dairy entries written by Snow Soong about her honeymoon trip to the mysterious Seven Maiden Islands, bizarrely accompanied by a Japanese professor named Kunichika Mamoru and Peter Wormwood.
Along the journey, she contemplates breaking up with Johnny and to seek the right time to tell him that. At the same time, she seeks emotional comfort and a sense of intimacy from Kunichika.
"Women are not often on their own: they are constantly surrounded by men-fathers, husbands, sons. Those are the people we live for, whose lives press into ours at every moment. We obey, nurse, nurture and love. But in the end, we always have been alone.” This is the voice of Snow, but it can easily represent the inner voice of every woman. They set off on a boat, which break down and eventually wracked by a storm.
The last part is the account of Peter Wormwood. It answers the questions why he embarked on a journey to Malaya and he crossed path with Johnny, who became his best friend, not to mention his secret longing and love for Snow, his best friend's wife. He also recalls the journey to Seven Maiden Island and how things unfolded through his eyes.
Judging by the depth of the story and its literary value, it is not difficult to see why it was nominated for the Booker Prize in 2005 (but lost to John Banville's The Sea). Somehow, The Harmony Silk Factory went on to become the winner of 2006 Whitbread Book of the Year award. Well done, Tash Aw.
New World Order
"We are on the verge of a global transformation. All we need is the right major crisis and the nations will accept the New World Order." David Rockefeller, 1994.
BIRTH CONTROL TODAY, GUN CONTROL TOMORROW, MIND CONTROL THE DAY AFTER, THEN WE REST.
BIRTH CONTROL TODAY, GUN CONTROL TOMORROW, MIND CONTROL THE DAY AFTER, THEN WE REST.
Requiem 4 an Iraqi child
A child from heaven,
Blast into smithereens by the power of darkness,
Death that was so insignificant,
Death that required no redemption,
Death that was called weapon of mass destruction,
Death that needed no burial,
Death that was silenced,
Death that torn our hope into pieces.
Emotionally incorrect: Americanization
“Americanization” as I put it while our car was speedily wheeling towards the larger than life Tesco hypermarket. It was after 10pm on a Saturday evening. Tesco hypermarket stood mightily with lights brightening its own squarely body and its close surroundings. It stood in the middle of no where in the industrial zone to feed the lifestyle of the industrialized inhabitants, who embraced Americanization like a new religion.
The reason I was there was to keep someone company not because I wanted to buy anything but eventually I did. This is the state of the world we are living in. We subconsciously let ourselves be propelled into the codes of living of the masses. We can’t afford to be singled out or to single out anything the masses embrace.
When Iraq was invaded by American led coalition forces, many innocent civilians were killed on daily basis. (Please try to visualize that one fine day, while you are sipping the finest Arabica coffee in the morning, suddenly a missile racing towards you. You are dead before you can even think about what this is all about.) After seeing limbless, armless and dead children on T.V, in newspaper and on the internet, I told myself I had to do something about it. So, individually, I decided to impose an economy sanction on America.
Mcdonalds, KFC, Pizza Hut, Coffee Beans, Star Bucks and American Idol ( I actually like Taylor Hicks), I can live without but can I live without a computer? Dell, Intel, Apple, you name it, you have it. Can our country afford to order all the American companies to close doors and leave? Who can afford to wage war against American economy? I can hear the silence very loud now.
There I was at Tesco hypermarket, witnessing a flood of crowd flocking in, wheeling their trolleys around buying Americanization intentionally or unintentionally, so did I as if the atrocities of war were going to hit on us tomorrow.
Can we ride a horse instead of driving a car? So that we don’t have to worry about the price of oil and be victimized by the war of oil. No, we can’t do that because we are so confined or rather willingly confined by the codes of living of the masses.
Switch on the T.V, let Americanization seep into your living room like an air bourn decease. Watching people gulping mouth full of worms in a reality show as if they are some sort of God forsaken tribe. Then, Americanization goes on, Sex and the city, Desperate house wives, some more Sex and the city, some more Desperate house wives. Is that all we have ever wanted in our lives? Is that all we dare to ask for in our lives? Is that all we are capable to do in our lives? I can hear the silence very loud now.
The reason I was there was to keep someone company not because I wanted to buy anything but eventually I did. This is the state of the world we are living in. We subconsciously let ourselves be propelled into the codes of living of the masses. We can’t afford to be singled out or to single out anything the masses embrace.
When Iraq was invaded by American led coalition forces, many innocent civilians were killed on daily basis. (Please try to visualize that one fine day, while you are sipping the finest Arabica coffee in the morning, suddenly a missile racing towards you. You are dead before you can even think about what this is all about.) After seeing limbless, armless and dead children on T.V, in newspaper and on the internet, I told myself I had to do something about it. So, individually, I decided to impose an economy sanction on America.
Mcdonalds, KFC, Pizza Hut, Coffee Beans, Star Bucks and American Idol ( I actually like Taylor Hicks), I can live without but can I live without a computer? Dell, Intel, Apple, you name it, you have it. Can our country afford to order all the American companies to close doors and leave? Who can afford to wage war against American economy? I can hear the silence very loud now.
There I was at Tesco hypermarket, witnessing a flood of crowd flocking in, wheeling their trolleys around buying Americanization intentionally or unintentionally, so did I as if the atrocities of war were going to hit on us tomorrow.
Can we ride a horse instead of driving a car? So that we don’t have to worry about the price of oil and be victimized by the war of oil. No, we can’t do that because we are so confined or rather willingly confined by the codes of living of the masses.
Switch on the T.V, let Americanization seep into your living room like an air bourn decease. Watching people gulping mouth full of worms in a reality show as if they are some sort of God forsaken tribe. Then, Americanization goes on, Sex and the city, Desperate house wives, some more Sex and the city, some more Desperate house wives. Is that all we have ever wanted in our lives? Is that all we dare to ask for in our lives? Is that all we are capable to do in our lives? I can hear the silence very loud now.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Women in Malaysia
How do we define Asian women? Well, it really depends on where you are. In Malaysia, I used to meet many great women, among them is a doctor, who spent months in Afghanistan participating in humanitarian mission, a lawyer cum human rights activist, a columnist cum human rights activist, who writes for a women's magazine, not to mention many other women that I met in my life. These women demonstrated a great deal of strength and persevered during the days of trials in order to live a dignified life.
What I am trying to say is that there are countless women out there who have been trying their best to upgrade the status of women and to play a significant role in the society. Another thing I really take pride in is that there are many women who run the NGOs in Malaysia. These women not only excel in what they do but the also go the extra mile to embrace the dangers and risks involved in their jobs.
Irene Fernandez, the director of Tenaganita an NGO that defends migrant workers’ rights. She was arrested at her home in March 1996 and charged under Section 8A (2) of the Printing Presses and Publications Act 1984 (PPPA) for the offence of “maliciously publishing false news". The reason given was that she released a 6-page memorandum entitled " Abuse, Torture and Dehumanized Treatment of Migrant Workers" in August 1995, which had tarnished the good name of the country’. The memorandum was based on testimonies obtained through interviews with 335 migrant workers. In fact, the journalists of the Sun newspaper helped to carry out the investigations.
Her trial was the longest-running trial in the country’s criminal justice system, which began in Jun 1996 and ended in October 2003. Eventually, she was sentenced to one- year imprisonment. Her conviction was widely condemned by international human rights organizations. Amnesty International criticized Malaysian government for using laws that contravene with international human rights standards to silence human rights defender. Last year, Irene Fernandes was nominated for Nobel Peace Prize.
Dr. Jemilah, the founder of Mercy Malaysia, a medical relief society, entering Baghdad and bringing much needed medical supplies to Al Kindi Hospital and Al Qadsia Hospital three days after Iraq fell to the American led Coalition Forces in March 2003.
Unfortunately, unknown attackers ambushed her convoy. They opened fire indiscriminately, killing the driver and the translator. Dr. Jemilah and Dr. Baba were wounded in the shooting incident. Fortunately, they were rescued and sent to the hospital.
The injured Dr. Jemilah insisted to treat Dr. Baba who had lost conscious. Dr. Jemilah collapsed soon after she finished treating Dr. Baba. Thank goodness, by then, Dr. Baba had regained conscious. Without a moment to waste, Dr. Baba went on to give treatment to Dr. Jemilah. Their great spirit and selfless dedication have inspired many Malaysians to join Mercy Malaysia as volunteers. So far, Mercy Malaysia has deployed its volunteers to countries as far as Sudan, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, the Philippines, Cambodia, Iran, Iraq and Afghanistan.
In recent years, Malaysian Muslim women have been taking a bolder step to defend their rights. The Coalition of Women's rights in Islam, made up of twelve women's organizations, was formed in March 2003 to campaign against the abuse of polygamy. They went on to launch a campaign called " Monogamy: My choice," calling for the consent of the wife to be obtained first before any marriage can be accepted.
The reason Malaysian women are doing what they are doing is because Malaysian women themselves have become a positive driving force among them. Of course, women are frequently targeted or victimized every time social ills sprouts out like mushrooms after the rain. NGOs in Malaysia often take turn to launch campaign to stop violence against women. Despite of this, statistics show that there were 588 rape cases in the first five months of year 2005.
The journey to end sexism and violence against women is a tough one. Somehow we believe that one day we will reach our destination.
What I am trying to say is that there are countless women out there who have been trying their best to upgrade the status of women and to play a significant role in the society. Another thing I really take pride in is that there are many women who run the NGOs in Malaysia. These women not only excel in what they do but the also go the extra mile to embrace the dangers and risks involved in their jobs.
Irene Fernandez, the director of Tenaganita an NGO that defends migrant workers’ rights. She was arrested at her home in March 1996 and charged under Section 8A (2) of the Printing Presses and Publications Act 1984 (PPPA) for the offence of “maliciously publishing false news". The reason given was that she released a 6-page memorandum entitled " Abuse, Torture and Dehumanized Treatment of Migrant Workers" in August 1995, which had tarnished the good name of the country’. The memorandum was based on testimonies obtained through interviews with 335 migrant workers. In fact, the journalists of the Sun newspaper helped to carry out the investigations.
Her trial was the longest-running trial in the country’s criminal justice system, which began in Jun 1996 and ended in October 2003. Eventually, she was sentenced to one- year imprisonment. Her conviction was widely condemned by international human rights organizations. Amnesty International criticized Malaysian government for using laws that contravene with international human rights standards to silence human rights defender. Last year, Irene Fernandes was nominated for Nobel Peace Prize.
Dr. Jemilah, the founder of Mercy Malaysia, a medical relief society, entering Baghdad and bringing much needed medical supplies to Al Kindi Hospital and Al Qadsia Hospital three days after Iraq fell to the American led Coalition Forces in March 2003.
Unfortunately, unknown attackers ambushed her convoy. They opened fire indiscriminately, killing the driver and the translator. Dr. Jemilah and Dr. Baba were wounded in the shooting incident. Fortunately, they were rescued and sent to the hospital.
The injured Dr. Jemilah insisted to treat Dr. Baba who had lost conscious. Dr. Jemilah collapsed soon after she finished treating Dr. Baba. Thank goodness, by then, Dr. Baba had regained conscious. Without a moment to waste, Dr. Baba went on to give treatment to Dr. Jemilah. Their great spirit and selfless dedication have inspired many Malaysians to join Mercy Malaysia as volunteers. So far, Mercy Malaysia has deployed its volunteers to countries as far as Sudan, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, the Philippines, Cambodia, Iran, Iraq and Afghanistan.
In recent years, Malaysian Muslim women have been taking a bolder step to defend their rights. The Coalition of Women's rights in Islam, made up of twelve women's organizations, was formed in March 2003 to campaign against the abuse of polygamy. They went on to launch a campaign called " Monogamy: My choice," calling for the consent of the wife to be obtained first before any marriage can be accepted.
The reason Malaysian women are doing what they are doing is because Malaysian women themselves have become a positive driving force among them. Of course, women are frequently targeted or victimized every time social ills sprouts out like mushrooms after the rain. NGOs in Malaysia often take turn to launch campaign to stop violence against women. Despite of this, statistics show that there were 588 rape cases in the first five months of year 2005.
The journey to end sexism and violence against women is a tough one. Somehow we believe that one day we will reach our destination.
Movie review: Amandla! A Revolution in Four-Part Harmony
Amandla in Xhosa means power. This word was repeatedly uttered, screamed and sung throughout the documentary called Amandla! A Revolution in Four-Part Harmony directed by Lee Hirsch. This documentary won the Audience Award and Freedom of Expression Award at the 2002 Sundance Film Festival.Amandla reveals the inside stories of the long-hauled struggle of black South Africans against apartheid through the powerful songs of freedom, which managed to strengthen the spirit of black South Africans for more than 40 years.
The film's overture is a series of flashbacks depicting crowds of black South Africans demonstrating on the streets with nothing but their God gifted voices as their ultimate weapons. On every corner of the street, penetrating and overwhelming songs of freedom swelling up like cloudbursts, calling for an end to apartheid.
At a private screening of this documentary organized by Amnesty International Malaysia, my heart began throbbing and brewing with anger and felt like I could easily join the demonstrators and sing my anger away with my fists in the air.
The documentary moves on to highlight the story of an amazing unsung hero named Vuyisile Mini, an activist cum songwriter, not to mention an outspoken political leader, who used music to inspire the people to challenge the apartheid government that came to power in 1948, stripping black South Africans of their basic rights as citizens.
One of his songs called "Beware Verwoerd", carrying Xhosa lyrics, which warn the Father of apartheid, Hendrik Verwoerd that his judgement day will come.Tragically, Vuyisile Mini was found "guilty" of 17 counts of sabotage and the murder of a police informer. He was executed in Pretoria Central Prison on November 8, 1964.
The documentary goes on to feature a series of interviews with celebrated musicians, who helped to reveal the suffering of black South Africans to the world. Those musical heroes and heroines appearing in the documentary are trumpeter Hugh Masekela, pianist Abdullah Ibrahim, singer Miriam Makeba, singer / songwriter Vusi Mahlasela and singer Sibongile Khumalo.
On screen they tell inspiring stories sure to ignite the fighting spirit of even the meekest of lambs to rise up against injustice. Some of them infuse their stories with imotional vocals. In the crowd, I noticed a few viewers wiping away tears. Thank goodness, I was not the only one.
There is one particularly poignant scene in the documentary, shot in black and white, showing a black South African woman with a baby in her arms, waiting for a bus. A vacant bus halts before her eyes but she doesn't get on. The bus leaves. Then, there is a pause after the scenario to give the viewers enough time to hold their breath and ask why the woman reacted this way. Then the camera zooms in to a sign on the bus: "For the Whites only."
Amandla also features a shocking montage of achival footage of rallies, funerals, guerilla camps, church services, demonstrations, marches and the brutality of the apartheid government. On of the most moving parts comes when a black South African sings in distress: " Our only sin is to be black" .
Yet another heartbreaking refrain, in reference to Nelson Mandela's jail term, is delivered by Vusi Mahlasela in his soaring and plantive voice, " When you come back".
Yes, Nelson Mandela did come back and was elected as South Africa's first democratically chosen president in 1994. So, the film's ending is hardly sorrowful because the voices of the oppressed have finally drowned out the cries of racism from the aparteid government. Amandla is a truimph of both cinema and African music.
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