Tanah Tumpahnya Darahku.

"Are you ready to die for the country?" I asked as I walked together with Simeon heading from Mirama Hotel on Jalan Maharajalela to Petaling Street.

My honest answer to my question was - No. I don't believe I should die now. When I'm only 24. There is so. much. more that I want and believe I can do for my country.

"But what if it takes bloodshed for people to wake up? What if we were the ones to go - so that people will finally realize the need for change?" was Simeon's reply.

...

I drove home on Thursday night. And this motorcyclist was in rage, thinking I was going to endanger his life. He drove so quickly, honking the whole way.. and as he approached my car, he bent over and shouted at the top of his lungs at me.

Wow, I thought. If this was how it's like when there's NO rally, I cannot imagine what would happen on July 9th.

I thought of chickening out.

...

I flip-flopped the entire 8th of July. To go, or not to go? Every time somebody asked me if I was going, I flashed them a nervous smile.

What if I die? What if I don't die.. but end up with a disability? Gaahhh.

But the biggest why was - WHY DO I FIND MYSELF FEARING THE GOVERNMENT?? THE VERY PEOPLE WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO MAKE SURE I'M SAFE??

...

I knocked on the door of 608. And after a request for the "Secret Password", the door was opened to 13 other people. Young people. People I call friends.

I sat amongst them, and we talked late into the night. Of our game plan. How we would run. What we would need to counter the possible attacks we would face.

We slept. And woke to the sound of FRU trucks moving into the city.

You would have thought it was World War III.

...

We packed salt. Prepared bi-carb soda solution. Soaked our towels in vinegar. Prayed. And left in twos and threes.

We walked towards Petaling Street. People we met along the way were silent.. It was the calm before the storm. Grim. None of us knowing what would happen.

As we walked further into the heart of the city, we heard chants.

"Hidup, hidup! Hidup Bersih! Hidup, hidup! Hidup Rakyat!"

And something in me started. It was a growing excitement.

We followed the crowd. Chanting as we walked along.

Deep inside me, I was still afraid. I looked around me. Most people do not have the same coloured skin as I do. If riot was to break out, I would have been Peking duck in 2 seconds.

We looked on. And strategized to join the crowd and be in the middle. Lest anything should happen, at least we were not in the vulnerable fringes.

...

Menara Maybank.

1Malaysia #1. I met an elderly Chinese aunty. This was not her first rally. The Anti-ISA rally was her first. She was doing it for her children, she said.

Tear Gas #1. We ran helter-skelter.

...

Tung Shin Hospital.

We were waiting with the rest to march to the stadium. But the Men in Blue gave us no rest.

Tear Gas #2. We ran helter-skelter again.

We ran into the shelter, eyes, nose and throat hurting from the gas.

ALL I WANT IS CLEAN AND FAIR ELECTIONS!! WHY AM I TREATED LIKE A CRIMINAL?!?

...

1Malaysia #2. We ran into shelter. Eyes still stinging.

4 Malay boys stood around. And offered us salt.

"Rub it around your eyes and put some in the roof of your mouth," Arif said. "Take this bag of salt, give it to those who need it."

"Thank you, and please, please, please take care." we bade him.

...

Rain. THANK GOD FOR RAIN!!!

...

Still in Tung Shin Hospital grounds.

Tear Gas #3. WE WERE IN THE HOSPITAL GROUNDS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!

...

We ran helter-skelter. And we saw a wall. There was no where else to run, as police were chasing with their batons.

1Malaysia #3. An elderly Chinese uncle stood by the wall.

"Uncle, go first.. go first.." I told him.

"No, no.. after you!" And he helped me over the wall. And on the other side of the wall, was another Malay uncle.. standing and giving a hand to all of us who were running.

We continued running.

1Malaysia #4. I came to another wall. This time, this wall had a metal fence. With sharp pointers.

I climbed up the wall. And looked down. There's no way I'm going to make it down there unscathed.

A young Malay chap climbed up to where I was. Lifted me, and lowered me down the other side.. his stomach pressing against the sharp metal pointers as he was doing so.

"Are you okay???" I turned back and asked.

"Yes, just run," was his reply.

...

After having survived 3 rounds of tear gas.. we were still dissatisfied.

This rally is not over!

We heard chants from afar, and decided we would join our fellow comrades in the march to Stadium Merdeka.

...

1Malaysia #5. As we were heading towards the crowd, we saw 3 Chinese aunties.

They warned us against heading in that direction, because they just saw the FRUs and the police beating people up with batons.

"Thank you for coming, aunty. For doing this for our generation." I said.

She looked at me with bewilderment. Took off her hat, and said to me, "Why do you thank me? My father didn't do this for me. Now I will do it for my children. For my grandchildren. I will march in every state every week - until I see change happen."

...

We found the crowd. And marched on to KLCC.

"Rasa sayang, hey! Rasa sayang sayang hey! Hey..." was what we heard the crowd singing.

...

We arrived in KLCC. Sat. Made a few more friends.

And ran. Because the police were on the heat again.

As we ran for our lives, I saw two other people in front of me.

In running, they hit and toppled the barricades that were around KLCC. And to my utter amazement, they stopped, picked up the barricades, arranged it to be how it was like before, and continued running.

...

9th of July, 2011.

I am proud.

Proud to have friends - students and white-collared workers, who would risk being detained and being treated inhumanely to stand for what is right.

Proud to have Malaysian brothers and sisters - this is my pledge. That this will be the last time I refer to anybody by race. Because of the kindness you showed me and my friends today, you showed me that we are CAPABLE, of being COLOUR BLIND.

Proud of the way we behaved during the rally. We were not violent. We were courteous. We helped each other. We pushed on despite being treated like dogs because we kept in mind - the next generation that is to come after us.

Proud that we showed kindness instead of retaliating when we were provoked.

Proud that now, nobody can call us third world - because we did not react the way the Middle East did.

And most of all, I am proud - so proud, that WE DID NOT SUCCUMB TO THE TACTICS THAT SOUGHT TO INSTILL FEAR IN US. THAT WE CHOSE TO RISE ABOVE THE FEAR WE HAVE BEEN SO BOUND BY.

...

Negaraku, tanah tumpahnya darahku.

9th July 2011. Proud, really proud.. to be called Malaysian.

Being Yourself

I think the scariest thing about being (or trying to be) yourself (without the facades) is the risk.

Supposing that facades act like a shield. Should you not be accepted as this one personality, you simply swap it with another.

The risk of being real. The risk of not being accepted for the you you truly are. That state of vulnerability.

But then again, not everybody accepts you anyway.

That Inner Conflict

It's in times like these when blogging is absolutely necessary.

Regardless of whether or not I will die at work tomorrow because I didn't sleep at 10pm.

...

That conflict.

Idealism vs. Realism.

Yeah, that conflict.

...

I found 3 words through Psychology that describes best a huge part of who I am.

Just-world belief.

How ironic that phrase, especially when we live in a world where nothing is fair, let alone just.

...

As a kid, I hated it every time we had to split a packet of biscuits/chocolates between us 3 siblings. Because things usually come in even numbers. And splitting it between 3 kids would mean either one of us would get one extra.

OR, we'll just have to go through the hassle of dividing the last piece equally into 3 EQUAL (this is a necessity!) parts.

OR, we can just throw away the last biscuit/chocolate so that nobody gets any of it.

Since then, I vowed to have 4 kids (because 2's too quiet for my liking).

I don't like people giving me things I (think) I don't deserve. And I don't like giving people things I (think) they don't deserve.

...

20 years or so down the road, I'm still that kid that I was long ago.

I (still) can't stand it when things are not fair, although I've learnt to loosen up more these days (a necessity, or I'd have a death certificate by now.. what an award!).

Just that, at 23.. biscuits and chocolates have turned into larger real-life events. Like the poor and the rich. In every sense of the word.

...

I own a Bubble. A Bubble I keep myself in. That Bubble that tells me that I have what it takes to try and make things more equitable, if not fair (just).

But my Bubble isn't exactly the safest place I can live in.

When I have time to browse through other bubbles - such as Facebook and Blogger, I realise that many people outside my Bubble are moving on with what is called Life.. and moving on fast, they are.

People outside my Bubble have little time and tolerance to what goes on within my Bubble.

And every time Bubble breaks, I am afraid to rebuild it. And I live life just the way it is lived outside Bubble.

...

I am going nuts, living in and out of my Bubble.

...

What is that place called - that place where my Bubble and the world can co-exist?

Either that, or I will just have to exterminate this Bubble and do away with this disease of a Just-world belief.

...

Ugh.

My Turn.

It was my turn @ Homecoming.

Colours :)

If I can have this for breakfast every morning, I will never complain about waking up early.

Promise.

20 Something.

Being 20 something is rather.. confusing.

Sigh.

I wish I was 30.

Vait, vait, vait.

Vait.

And vait..

..and vait.

Vhy?

Hhhrrruuuummmmpppphhh.

Homecoming.

If you would take time to check this out:

Homecoming.

Signs and Wonders

Welcome.. to Malaysia. Where we have road signs like this:


I see signs, and.. I wonder..

.. that's signs and wonders for you in Malaysia!

6

We have a 6-year old at home.

Not bad at art.

Puffer fish.

And, can be quite funny. At times.

...

Things you hear around the house:

1.
"Get up.. and shake it.. c'monnnn! Get up.. and shake it.. c'monnnn!! ..."

(Repeat 3893128419679 times per hour).

2.
All the single ladies.. all the single ladies..
*humming of some random tune*

All the single ladies.. all the single ladies..
*humming of some random tune*

All the single ladies.. all the single ladies..
*humming of some random tune*

(Repeat the above till you feel hands of older siblings tightening around neck)

...

And after a car accident.

3.
6 year old: Che!! How come you can hit into the uncle's car wann??

23 year old: Don't talk to me now.

*silence*

6 year old: But cheee! How come you didn't stop wan??

23 year old: I said, don't disturb me now!

*silence*

6 year old: Che, I think you are very careless you know..

23 year old: ...

I think next time, I shall run over a 6 year old instead of a chicken rice uncle's shop.

Big Fish, Small Fish

So I went to the market the other day, and I saw a very very small fish. And as I walked further on, I saw a very very BBBBIIIIIIGGGGGG fish.

Heh. Nonsensical inside joke by people who matter <3

...

Big fish, Small fish.

Big Apple donuts, Small Apple donuts.

Big dream, Small dream?

...

What's a big dream? Or, what makes a dream smaller than big?

If all I dream about is my wedding day and the kids that come after.. is that a dream smaller than if I wanted to save the world?

How big should a dream be? What's a big dream anyway?

How does one avoid making a dream so small that they regret it on their 70th birthday?

Why dream?

...

Hmmm.

"Think, think, think." - Winnie the Pooh.

So I came to hate life..

.. because everything done here under the sun is so troubling.

The fastest runner doesn’t always win the race.
The strongest warrior doesn’t always win the battle.
The wise sometimes go hungry.
The skillful are not necessarily wealthy.
And those who are educated don’t always lead successful lives.
It is all decided by chance, by being in the right place at the right time.

I saw the tears of the oppressed, with no one to comfort them.
The oppressors have great power, and their victims are helpless.
I am not surprised when I see a poor person being oppressed by the powerful,
And if justice is being miscarried throughout the land.
For every official is under orders from higher up,
And matters of justice get lost in red tape and bureaucracy.

People and animals share the same fate—both breathe and both must die.
Anything I wanted, I would take.
I denied myself no pleasure.
Everything has already been decided.
It was known long ago what each person would be.
So there’s no use arguing with God about your destiny.

I came to hate all my hard work here on earth,
For I must leave to others everything I have earned.
And who can tell whether my successors will be wise or foolish?
Most people are motivated to success because they envy their neighbors.
Money is put into risky investments that turn sour, and everything is lost.
Meaningless - everything is meaningless! Completely meaningless!
Like chasing the wind.

Farmers who wait for perfect weather never plant.
If they watch every cloud, they never harvest.
To enjoy your work and accept your lot in life—this is indeed a gift from God.
Enjoy what you have rather than desiring what you don’t have.
God keeps such people so busy enjoying life that they take no time to brood over the past.
Don’t long for “the good old days.” This is not wise.

Enjoy prosperity while you can,
But when hard times strike, realize that both come from God.
Remember that nothing is certain in this life.
Talk is cheap, like daydreams and other useless activities.
Fear God instead.
Here now is my final conclusion:
Fear God and obey his commands, for this is everyone’s duty.

Solomon, 1011BC.
In Ecclesiastes (New Living Translation).

PS. Rearranged the orders a little. Merely a pick-out-straight-from-text the particular verses that jumped out at me, with no intentions to tweak dear ol' Sol's well meanings. Juuuuuust in case it invokes a theological debate over the rightness of the order :)

Rightful Money

Watched a documentary concerning the environment.. or shall I say, our environment. Which really is a must-watch - Home Project. Haven't seen a doco like that in a while, and it sparked little thought bubbles while I was watching it.

...

Being at Ikea the other day, I spent a considerable amount of time watching people as they walked pass me. Okay, not thaat kinda watch. While waiting for a friend, what better way to kill time than to wonder about the people around you?

And I watched as a lady un-thinkingly took two bags of chips into her arms, and proceeded to take some other items from the food section. Overwhelmed with curiosity, I walked over to see how much a bag of chips would cost. I don't remember now, but somewhere around RM 7.90?

My mind did a quick calculation as to how much money one would have to earn each month to buy two bags of potato chips that costs RM 7.90 each without having the words "BUDGET!!!" flashing before you. Assuming of course, that if you have enough money to not think twice about expensive potato chips, you'd have enough money for many, many other things.

I twitched, wondering if I'd ever earn enough money to be unconcerned about how to make the most of my RM 7.90.

...

Been thinking quite a bit about the pieces of coloured paper that I hardly see in my wallet these days. Well, with unemployment comes unmoneyment. And the last I heard, money is still the solution to man's problems.

Back to our environment.

Watching how our world really is coming to an end unnaturally, hastened by our actions - made me wonder more about money and what it gives us.

...

Money doesn't give us a wider range of choices anymore. It now gives us, rights.

...

With money, we now have the right to own our first car, and not be victims of the public transportation system any longer. And with more money, we have more rights to buy more cars.

And when you have many cars and still, more incoming money, we then have the upgraded right of buying better quality oil-guzzling cars. The kind that drink up 3 times more dinosaur juice than actually needed.

...

Money gives us the right to use more water than we really need to, because, we can afford to pay for it.

...

Money gives us the right to turn on the air-condition at its maximum capacity because, well, we have what it takes to afford it.

...

Money gives us the right to convenience. Who needs to carry a water tumbler with them when plastic bottles of mineral water are sold at every corner?

...

Money gives us the right to be bosses. If not bosses of a company, at the very least, bosses of one - the Indonesian maid. We work them with not even a single day off in 2 years, whilst we complain about our dwindling amount of annual leave.

Because we paid them to work.

...

Money gave Dubai the power to do this!

And this!


Man-made islands in the shape of the world, and a palm tree. But, all at the cost of our environment.

...

And the need for money gives us the right to dig, abuse, misuse, exploit - our natural resources that really, doesn't belong to us anyway.

...

I wonder about the rightness of our rights. And where our quest for Vitamin M will bring us one day.

...

Well. The thought bubbles originate from the person who will die with only a laptop to her name at this point in time.

Perhaps it will give me more right to think about money matters when I actually have them.

Time to water the money tree?

Question 1.

I remember being in a car on Greenhill Road, and having a stir in the tummy. The kinda stir of anxiety that happens before you're about to enter into the exam hall.

And it's the fear of - "Have I covered all I needed to cover? What if I missed out on some things? What if I understood some parts wrongly?".

The final 2 years was much of a growth spurt. Throw in some responsibilities in OCF, Edge, and a mission trip at that - it was a much-to-learn, much-to-apply kinda life.

In the last few months pre-August 09, there was a sudden panic. That I have to 'memorize' things and fill the brain and heart with as much as possible.. in time for the exam.

And whilst driving along Greenhill, I had a sudden anxiety that come August 09, the dreaded exams will begin.

And indeed, it has.

...

Circle the correct answer.

Question 1.
The value of a person does not lies not in what they do, but in who they are.

• True
• False
  

...

The head tells me I should know the answer, but reality puts the head in confusion.

Unemployment has that kinda effect on you. The yourenotgoodenough effect.

...

Ineedajob.

...

*Grits teeth*

I will pass the exam.

*Gulps*

I hope.

Flashes of Unity

In this land of 'everything-can', the only time you feel unity oozing out of your skin is when you see flashes of light.

No, not the ones that beckon you to the world of hereafter. The ones that come from the opposite side of the road.

As I drive along our very expensive highways (particularly the East-West Highway), the most exciting part of the drive is when I see cars after cars flashing their lights at me from the opposite direction.

And then I see that annoying Toyota behind me decelerate and stop tail-gating my energy-less national car, and all of a sudden, we are all driving like the typical Australian.

And I excitedly grip my steering wheels, in anticipation of what I'll see ahead of me. Road-blocks, and policemen waving their red flags.

"Take that!!" I mutter with a sense of victory. And every other driver around me seem to be muttering the same thing. Some even punching the air at their win of the day.

I wonder who started this practice. Where it all came from, and how did we all know this little trick in fighting the evil ones in our poorly governed country.

And that is when I feel united with my fellow Malaysians, regardless of colour. And this little practice only to be found in Malaysia, makes me feel proud to be Malaysian. For only that one very occasional moment.

To the next flash of unity.

Wants.

I want to dream again.

Dear Malaysia

Thought I'd write to let you know how I'm feeling about you.

I am disappointed. I am sad. I am frustrated. I am angry.

That we have to resort to ways like these. That we have leaders that fan the flames of racism, rather than be good examples. That my friends and I are still called 'pendatang' (foreigners), after so many years.

I did not choose where to be born. I was born here. Right here. Why am I considered an outsider in a land I was born in? Where else am I supposed to go? To Australia? Where I don't even look remotely similar to the locals? Where I have to redefine my accent to be understood?

I'm frustrated. At times, I hate you. With a passion. At times, I wish I could pack up and leave you. Why bother, really.

I am not even remotely proud to be associated with you. I used to be. A long time ago.

But Malaysia, you have no choice, really. I made up my mind, and I'm not changing it. I will not wait for you to acknowledge me. Or to appreciate me, before I start giving to you. Because, perhaps, you never will.

And the newly coined phrase. 1Malaysia. That, defines disgust. It is an utter disgust!

I can't seem to find that love I had for you. My heart cringes at the mention of your name.

But unfortunately, I come from a generation that believes change is possible. A generation that demands to see change. So, too bad for you, really. I believe that things will, sooner or later, change. And I want to stay a little longer.. till I see it happen.

They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. The cow-head protests, unfair policies, brainless remarks, church firebombings didn't kill me. So now, I can only be stronger.

I AM stronger. I AM more determined. More than ever before.

I can't bring myself to say, "I love you, Malaysia". Not just yet.

But I hope, one day, this fight would be worth it.

I hope, one day, that I will be able to say, it was worth the effort. Worth the wait. Worth the tears.

Sincerely,
Another one of your pendatangs.

Change is Possible!

.. says the ticket machine at Gardens, Midvalley :)

Dream Cheras.

For a long time, I've envied the people living on the greener pastures of Petaling Jaya. Even when you say that two letters "P" and "J", you say it with more air and grace then when you say.. "Cheras". And every time I say I'm from Cheras, you would know what kinda responses I get.

"Hah? Cheras ah? Very jam wan wor that place."
"Cheras ah? A lot of lala-s wan right?"
"Cheras? WAH. SO FAR!"

Okay. That'll be enough for now. I'd probably hurt many-a-feelings if I go on with the list. But yeah, even (apparently), girls from PJ are of a better breed than we from Cheras. And, we get very defensive over the place we were brought up in.

Dreams.

I think we're a generation that has lost the ability to dream.

We are scarred by hurts not of our own. Our parents tell us it is pointless to dream. Their cynicism has rubbed off in our minds. That we dare NOT dream.

Just like how we have absolutely NO reason to be racist. We were NOT there on May the 13th, 1969. We were not the ones hurt by the actions of people then. But we have allowed the hurts of the past be a secondary hurt in our lives today.

Ask the person next to you - "What is your dream?" - and look at that sheepish smile you get. Or that blank face with "Huh? What dream?" - written all over it. We live as if it's out of this world to dream.

But if we truly believe that this place - this world that is fading away - belongs to our Father, and we know His heart for His people who are still living on this side of eternity, wouldn't it be legitimate to DREAM?

And dream Cheras.

Last Sunday, I was convicted when I had a conversation with a very good friend.

Things don't happen by chance, we always say. Do we see it as real in every aspect of our lives? Us Cheras-ians, being born and bred in Cheras (let's not even talk about being born in the bigger geographical area of Malaysia just yet), did not happen by chance. And we upper middle class people (come on, don't kid yourself. If you're reading this from YOUR own computer/laptop with Streamyx, you're so much more well to do than a lot of people), are comfortable where we are.

But we are strategically placed in areas that are brimming over with needs. Economical, social, health, political (yes - political!) needs. And this is OUR chance to dream. And to do something about it.

"Break our hearts for what breaks Yours" - will always remain an emotional statement if we do not couple it with action.

Think globally, act locally.

What are we doing for Cheras today?

And for the non-Cheras-ians who cannot relate to this post.. How about a Dream ______ (insert place of stay) for you?

And..

I miss Adelaide.

Heaps.

:'(