A Rose, By Any Other Name...

...will still stab you with it's thorns if you handle it wrongly, lah!

From Mat Rempit to Thugs-On-Wheels

Police said yesterday they will now call illegal street racers Samseng Jalanan or Thugs-on-Wheels (TOW), instead of Mat Rempit, as the term appears to have created a "glamarous" image for such rowdies.

Hmm... yes, I think now they will all run and hide under rocks in shame and remorse.

This brilliant idea follows a recent statement by a psychologist, that using the term Mat Rempit makes these wheelie-happy kids feel cool, and so more daring and unrepentent.

So we give them another name. Samseng Jalanan, literally, Street Gangsters. Pretty damn cool name, if you ask me, just a couple of notches down from Hell's Angels. Thugs-on-Wheels (TOW) not so cool, sounds more like a delivery service. But still, guys, it's just another label! It still groups them together as something unique, something elite even. You're still giving them a special group to belong to.

I wonder how many people sat in the Police Task Force that brainstormed through endless kuehs and teh tariks to come up with those new labels. How about using the term Criminals. Or Lawbreakers. That's what they are, right? They blatantly flout the laws, and are causing grievances to others. Would calling them exactly what they are maybe get them to start realising what they've become? Not young, forgivable drugs-induced kids going through a phase, but lawbreakers - sames as thieves and robbers, killers and rapists; and hence will also be punished for their crimes to society.

I say just call it like it is and punish where it's called for. Instead of spending time and my money trying to decide what to call them after the free sky jumping trip didn't work, try focusing on what got them to this stage in the first place.

Just a few suggestions to chew karipap over:

1. Give our children better schools, where they can get a quality education, enough play time and freedom of expression.
2. Better incentives for young people to pursue sports as a career, and the corrupt-free system and facilities to go with it.
3. Much higher minimum wages, plus a commitment to develop vocational and basic-level service jobs into respectable careers.

Of course, all easier said than done, but we could grit our teeth and sink them into the hard work, or we could continue thinking of names.

What Interns Should Learn

A couple of interns started work in our office this week, and a colleague of mine brought them round to our workstations to say hello. Now, I generally try to be nice to interns, because I know how difficult it can be sometimes. So I engaged them in the usual get-to-know-you banter: Which university are you from? What are you studying?

They were shy, and didn't say much. Then one of them gathered up his balls, pointed his index finger straight out at me and asked loud and clear: "You Malay or Chinese?"

I gave him the mother of all evil eyes, told him to take that up with someone else, and turned back to my work. My colleague later came to talk to me, and I told him that really, if his intern learns nothing else but to never ask questions like that again, we'd have done something good with his time here.

My colleague(s) (and my mother) think that I was too harsh on the guy. Maybe. But I'm tired. I'm very tired of being asked whether I'm Malay or Chinese, Muslim or Not, Mixed Parentage or What. I've been asked all my life. All. My. Life. Except for my one gap year when I was in Holland - there they asked me if I knew Kung Fu.

But people are curious, I'm told. They just want to know, and you're being too hard. Am I? I don't think so. I can tell by now when people are asking me because they want to know, or if they are asking for my benefit, or for their own.

It's when they are asking for their own benefit that irks me. People who ask for their own benefit are people who need to box me into a category so they know how to deal with me, how to interact with me. If I tell them I'm Chinese, they pull out their Dealing With Chinese People Template with all its attached generalisations. People who ask for their own benefits are also sometimes trying to prove a point. "Oh, no wonder lah, [insert race-based assumption here]."

They don't always realise though, that they are asking for their own benefit - that much I will concede. But if I don't start making the people around me realise how deeply they are seated in their comfortable mindsets, then they will continue asking, continue enforcing generalised beliefs about people of different races, and continue seeing one another as Malay or Chinese or Mixed and not Malaysians.

Sure, people still want to know. I'm an oddity. I often take time to explain to others about me. I explain to our office boy, to our clerk, to the taxi driver, to the Tau Foo Fa aunty, because really, they don't know but they want to know, and they ask nicely. I want to explain to them so they know that oh, there are also Muslims in Malaysia who are not Malays or oh, some Chinese people are Muslims too; and I enjoy doing that and seeing the acceptance in their faces. But if you come swaggering into a meeting with a bigshot name card that reads Director and asks me "What are you ah?", then I draw a line, and I will be rude to you, too. As for interns - well, you're on your way to becoming a university graduate and potential Director. Start learning how to behave, now.

I've also been accused of being defensive because I'm ashamed of what I am. I was, I'll admit. I went to a Chinese primary school for six years, during my most impressionable years where peer acceptance was very important. I didn't know how to explain myself. I didn't know why I couldn't just be Chinese and not Muslim. So if nobody asked, I didn't bring it up. When people did ask, I shrugged it off.

But now I'm all grown up and I'm not ashamed anymore. I know what I am, and family and real friends would know, I've never tried to hide the fact that I'm Muslim. I fill in the 'Religion' boxes in all forms, because yes, I'd like that Halal meal on the flight and yes, a prayer mat in the hotel room would be lovely. It's the Race box I have a problem with. And no, I'm not ashamed of being Chinese - otherwise what's to stop me from just saying I'm Malay? I would've breezed through my growing up years if I did.

I'm not ashamed, I'm not being defensive, I am tired. What does it matter whether I'm Chinese or Malay? In what ways would you treat a Chinese different from a Malay, and based on what? Based on what you are yourself. Isn't it?

A Sense of Urgency

I hate management books. I just can't stand all the jargons and theoretical ideas and step-by-step ways and the "It starts with YOU!" pep talk to be the best company / manager / executive in the world.

I got Kotter's book for serving as emcee at a Managers' Forum (guess what they talked about there), and only started reading it because I had a long train ride home and nothing else to read after I was done with all the advertisements in the train.

You know, I think I should get his first book too. He referred to it alot in this one. The first book used a penguin colony to represent a corporate team, and there was one penguin called No-no. I laughed out loud - I know so many No-nos... and a couple of Oh No-nos...

In 'A Sense of Urgency', the refreshing concept Kotter introduces was that of the "false sense of urgency". Technically this is the in-between of Complacency and Real Productivity. That's refreshing because all this while it was easy to point fingers at Complacency as the reason why nothing gets done, or done right. But Kotter offers that sometimes, companies exhibit a false sense of urgency, described as Meeting-meeting, writing-writing, going-going, project-project, task force-task force, which also results in nothing getting done.

Meeting-meeting, writing-writing, going-going, project-project, task force-task force. That was what caught my attention and I thought "Hey, that's us!". Meetings all the time - check. Several rounds of meetings with no solution - check. Schedules so full it looks like we're running the country - check. Working late all the time with no tangible results to show - check. Stress levels and tempers running amok - CHECK. Aiyo! It read almost as if Kotter was citing us as a case study. But he wasn't, and apparently, we're not alone. That was a relief to know - that even big companies in Negara-negara yang maju has this problem. So we can get off the edge of our seats now, right? Because we're just like other companies in the super-efficient developed world. We'll get going when they get going.

Kotter says you need to develop a real sense of urgency to get going. And he says "It starts with YOU!" in not so many words. Yea yea... all well and good. I've read the book. Now my bosses just have to read it too. If they do it, I'll do it. Otherwise I'll just be the naive, stupid one - running my head into a brick wall over and over again, with a great big motivated smile on my face, right? Sigh... did I mention I hate management books? But ok, due credit to Kotter, it's a good read, and after reading it I decided to cut my cynicism by about 70%.

Penthesilea on -70% cynicism: I think what we should see is that given the progression curve a company has to get through to various stages of productivity and non-productivity, the fact that we're described in the same breath as big-name companies who have been around for generations, says something - that we moved twice as fast as they did to get here. In a relatively short time we got successful, became heady, got complacent, tried to buck-up with new-age management theories, and started doing the Meeting-meeting, writing-writing, going-going, project-project, task force-task force waltz. In a very short time. So technically, we should be able to get out of this rut faster then, right? Of course. I really believe that.

The question is, what other excuses can we come up with as Malaysian companies to not get going? - Penthesilea's 30% leftover cynicism.

Gaiman's Sandman

My forever-young husband bought this one for me. I thought some of the stories and graphics were morbid at first, but on closer inspection what jumps out at you is the remarkable imagination - both in the illustrations and the story-telling. Makes you almost feel that you are a little boxed-in and... boringly normal.

A great way to just escape and relax after a tough day in a frustratingly real world full of pointless activities.

Another Gaiman book I've read some time ago is this one, co-authored with Terry Pratchett:

It's about an angel and a demon who both love their seconded lives here on earth so much that they panic when they find out the end of the world is due the next weekend. They begin a hunt for the Antichrist to stop Armageddon, not knowing that he's an 11-year old boy who doesn't even know he's the Antichrist. Hilarious!! Really, laugh-out-loud hilarious.

Before Gaiman and Pratchett, I was shielded behind a bookcase of conventional novels, never exposed to such degrees of whacky impossibilities. Then I married a whacky impossibility (loveable, whacky impossibility), and now my bookcase is that much more interesting!

This Country...

... is worth fighting for!

Heard that at a conference yesterday - and it hit home. Just when I was already thinking of Hawai'i as a nice place to migrate to, some fellow Malaysian ups and yells "...because this country is worth fighting for!"

... and he's right. It is.

Even if many of her people are racist and intolerant of each others' differences, and attack each other covertly, like the cowards that they are.

Even if she severely lacks real leaders, of integrity, wisdom and class, to bring her to her fullest potential.

Even if I have to argue every morning with that rude, rude woman who NEVER lines up for the LRT, and even if many more like her exist.

Even if the education system gradually crumbles to pieces, and no one who can afford otherwise will send their children to national schools.

Even if we have to do Yoga in deathly silence.

Even if we lose all its natural beauty and heritage to greed and incompetent thinking.

Because it's my country. And I haven't got another one to fight for.

The God of Small Things

This one nearly made me pass out in the train on the way to work.  I was so engrossed I didn't realise I was hyperventilating until the lights started to go out... A colleague helped me to the clinic where I got a medical chit, then I went home and finished the book. 

It's rather tragic, a great story of forbidden love and cruelly stolen childhoods in Kerala, India - the only democratically elected communist state in the world.  Roy gets the details so right - even spelling out English words the way it's spoken with an Indian accent, you can almost hear it.  She works the story in a compelling but unhurried manner, just telling enough to let you know, not to surprise. 

Great style.  I'd like to get more of her books. 

SO... Let's Talk About Books

I'm starting a category on this blog today on a much safer topic: Books. My commuting time has expanded to about an hour a day since we moved to our new apartment, and that has given me the privilege of time to devour quite a number of books. I thought it'd be nice to review and share it here, for when the days get too hot... you know.

Long Walk to Freedom: The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela
(I couldn't find a larger image)

Easily one of the most inspiring autobiographies I've read. Great men like him are made of different stuff, a sort of concrete-like internal discipline and unpenetrable principles. In his book he goes back a few times to his one regret over the life path he had chosen to take: that it cost him his family - the only price acceptable in exchange for deciding to fight for the greater good.

Something else that struck me about this giant of a man - an unexpected sense of humour, punctuating the most difficult, scariest and humiliating moments of his trials and tribulations. I suppose there would be no way of surviving 27 years of imprisonment without some ability to laugh at the atrocity of it all.

Favourite line: "I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. I felt fear myself more times than I can remember, but I hid it behind a mask of boldness. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear".

Made me: Laugh, cry, sigh deeply and feel grateful in comparison, and also sad at the same time - Here's a shining example of a man, who, despite growing up in the worst states of discrimination, fought for equality of all races and never harboured a shred of vengeance. The world should have stopped and learned - but increasingly, I feel a form of self-imposed apartheid among the people in our country.

A Quote

I don't agree with a word you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.

~ Voltaire

Reeza said, "just publish them", and then I remembered reading this quote somewhere. Not only does it sound better (and more m-a-t-u-r-e) than "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me", but the truth is, sometimes words do hurt. Not so much that it hurts the person those words were projected to, but it hurts knowing that people who utter them exist.

The Sporting Nation of the Short and Weak-brained

It's the same old excuse about why Malaysian athletes are not exactly 'world class'. Our Deputy Youth and Sports Minister yesterday said it's because:

1. They are mentally ill-prepared.
2. They are smaller in stature than their counterparts from South Korea and Japan as well as Arab and European countries.

Funny, we never used to say we're smaller compared to South Korean and Japanese athletes, it used to just be that we were smaller than the Mat Sallehs. But now, you know... the other Asians are taking magic milk and have grown larger and therefore are better athletes than we are. Not our fault, it's the tragedy of nature. We're too short.

With all due respect, Nicol David is short. Currently world #1 and three times World Open champion in Women's Squash, and she's shorter than all her competitors. Yes, she's One in a Million, we're terribly proud of her and gave her a Datuk-ship. Where were you before she became such a rising star though? When she and her other struggling compatriots were trying to make a name for themselves in the local squash circuits? It was only after she had done it, through the sacrifices of her family and support given by the private sector, that the government came stumbling over their own feet to be associated with such a fine athlete.

And then there are sports where it's an advantage to be short - artistic gymnastics and diving for example. What, we're not short enough? Are we really failing in these too because our athletes are 'mentally ill-prepared'? Try these on for size:

An education system that does not support a career in sports.

Anyone who has dabbled in amateur sports in Malaysia will vouch for this. Come Form 5 year, you get two choices: Continue training and face an uncertain fate as a Malaysian athlete, or stop training to join the paper chase for a more stable future. With absolutely no guarantee of being provided with the support needed to succeed, or even of a sustainable income as a professional sportsman / sportswoman, guess what the overwhelming majority go for? You want to blame parents for being too conservative and forcing their children to abondon a sports dream for the conventional medical / law degree? How can you blame them, actually, when there isn't enough evidence to convince them to take that risk with their children's future.

Sports associations marred by politics.

Officials who don't know two hoots about the sport (i.e. swimming officials who would confidently put on goggles backwards... or on their balls), get paid for doing nothing with money that can be better used for training facilities or sports gear, and kick out masseurs and even coaches from competition trips because they want to bring their wife and / or kid to Dream Holiday Destination #453.

Bad, bad sports management.

When foreign coaches are terminated after two years because no one can be bothered to sort out the proper work documentation for them, the athletes suffer... and then blamed because they couldn't keep up their performance with the new coach who has introduced a new training technique. Then just as they adjust to it, over a year, it happens all over again. New coach, new technique. Sure, coaches leave on their own accord too. I would leave, if I was given a shabby flat to live in near the training centre (near enough to walk because I don't get transportation allowances), not allowed to bring my family with me and given ten measly days a year off during which I have to pay for my own airfare home.

Conditional support.

We had a world class gymnast once, sacrificed all her childhood, contributed tremendously to the country through a string of honours at international competitions, tolerated a mediocre education at the National Sports School, then pressured not to quit even though she was past her peak years. She made it to the Sydney Olympics, determined because the condition was to deliver at the Olympics for a scholarship to study Physiotherapy at a local university. Local, university. She injured her already weak knee in Sydney, performed in pain, didn't deliver what was expected, and promptly forgotten. She's since moved away to New Zealand and is coaching children there.

An ex-Malaysian athlete, coaching children in a not just developed country, but a super-sporting nation... because she wasn't good enough for us.