Why We So Like That...?

Don't Tell Me It's Not A Racial Thing When...

2011-06-13T13:43:00.000+08:00

... a Special Report on prime time news sets out to cast doubt on whether food served in a restaurant owned by a Chinese Muslim is really Halal.

Reporter Irnani Md Nor insinuated strongly in her investigative report aired on TV9 news last night that the Halal status of a restaurant owned by a Chinese Muslim man was questionable. He apparently did not have on display an official Halal certificate, but had Quranic verses written in "Chinese calligraphy-style".

He was questioned in a rather accusatory tone by the reporter about his Halal status - "Bila you dapatkan sijil..." "So macam mana you...". Who does that? Say "you" to someone obviously much older than yourself when conversing in Malay - one of the most respectful languages there is.

They also questioned the restaurant workers - with their faces blurred out. One of the workers said about the restaurant owner, "Dia sama macam kita - Muslim". He gets it. We're all Muslim, we're the same. Then they questioned the patrons and asked if they were "yakin" or confident about eating at the premise.

The report went on to speak with some Islamic authority (because we need those, you know, on earth). And Mr. Authority said not only is it important for restaurant owners to get the proper Halal certification, but they and their kitchen workers must understand the Halal way of preparing food. Somewhere in his mini-sermon I even caught something about needing to have ablution when preparing a meal.

Interspersed were images of restaurant workers in other restaurants - at one point zooming onto a tattoo of one who was serving food. The report's subtitle on the screen had the word "ragu" - doubt.

WHAT is TV9 news trying to say?

Essentially, that Chinese Muslims are not as Muslim as Malay Muslims. Yes. That IS what they are saying, whether or not they realise it. Would it have become an Investigative News piece if the restaurant owner was Malay? Why have we never questioned the good people we buy Nasi Lemak bungkus from who do not have a certificate? Because there is no "ragu" there, is there?

What a low-down blow, TV9. You are News. Look up what that means.

A Rose, By Any Other Name...

2009-05-20T08:10:00.003+08:00

...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:

Give our children better schools, where they can get a quality education, enough play time and freedom of expression.

Better incentives for young people to pursue sports as a career, and the corrupt-free system and facilities to go with it.

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

2008-12-09T16:16:00.004+08:00

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

2008-12-01T16:00:00.005+08:00

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

2008-11-27T20:53:00.008+08:00

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...

2008-11-27T20:50:00.006+08:00

... 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

2008-11-21T11:28:00.001+08:00

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

2008-11-14T11:49:00.006+08:00

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

2008-11-14T11:30:00.005+08:00

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

2008-10-24T09:30:00.007+08:00

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:

They are mentally ill-prepared.
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.

Conditioned

2008-09-25T09:06:00.004+08:00

My mum related again to me recently how my late dad quit the Air Force when they got married. He felt that his chances of making it up the ranks were small because he was... well, Chinese. Some of his friends told him not to, that his chances were one up among the handful of Chinese in the air force, because he was Muslim. He left anyway.

I told mum, I don't blame him.

This week I was called for a promotion interview. I work in a company with a 90% Bumiputera population, and when I saw that my two other colleagues going for the same interview were Bumiputera Malays, my first thoughts were: I won't make it if HR has an invisible quota for this promotion. If it's one of three or two of three, I won't make it.

These thoughts came automatically, despite the fact that I have never been discriminated against by my colleagues here, that after the initial whispering and double taking, I have been accepted well and recognised for my capabilities. That's when I realised that I've been conditioned. Conditioned into thinking that I will always lose out in this community because of my skin colour.

Of course, when I shared this with some close friends, I got the same response my dad's buddies gave him: "But you have an advantage - you're Muslim what." But do you see? That's a conditioned response too. I don't want a promotion because I'm Muslim and part of the majority, and I don't want to be passed over for a promotion because I'm Chinese and part of the minority. I want a promotion because I deserve it from what I can deliver at work. And I will relent to being passed over for a promotion because I'm not as capable as my colleagues who got it.

But such is the state of our conditioned minds, that if I do not get this promotion, I will forever wonder whether it was me, or my skin colour. On the flip side, if I were up against a non-Bumiputera, non-Muslim colleague and I got promoted instead of him or her, I will also forever doubt that I deserved it fully because I had that 'extra' advantage of being a Muslim.

So no, I don't blame my dad for leaving the Air Force. It's hard to balance on a double-edged sword.

Let Us NOT Indulge

2008-09-11T15:49:00.009+08:00

"We look forward to indulging you during this Ramadhan..."

That's what it says in the last line of this e-flyer. We've completely lost it, haven't we? The meaning of Ramadhan.

It's not a month of indulgence, O ye profiteering hoteliers. It is a month of moderation, a month of reflection, a month to spend a little more time with your family, at home. Not in a grand hotel, spending RM118 per person for a sinfully large spread of food, alot of which will go to waste.

How can you justify, without feeling guilty, spending over RM100 for just one dinner when our obligatory payment for zakat, tithe to the poor, is only RM5? Children all over the world are still starving to death, and we toss them some change and treat ourselves to a meal we can barely finish.

This year, hubby and I have resolved, again, to politely decline any invitation to Buka Puasa if it involves extravagant buffets. We did it last year too, said no to many invitations, and explained why. Someone told me, "Oh, good for you. Me, I don't have that much resolve." Others say "Oh, I'd never go if I had to pay for myself, but you know, this is on the company!"

Precisely. We never give a second thought to it because we're not shelling out a drop of sweat for that sumptious, 100-different dishes buffet, but the same wastage occurs, the same extravagance is sold, the same idea that you deserve to be pampered during Ramadhan is marketed by hotels and bought. Hook, line and sinker.

And the children still starve.

Help Sufiah?

2008-08-14T12:02:00.007+08:00

We all know the story, it had the makings of a top-rated soap opera. A family of child prodigies who grabbed headlines as each child attained university entrance at a younger age. Then the youngest runs away from home, and stories of child abuse leaks out. The family makes up, the 'problem' child settles down, then ups and divorces her husband and is found out later to be prostituting herself. This all takes place over more than a decade in jolly old England, but drew great interest in local papers because the mother of these children is Malaysian.

So as Malaysians, we tumpang bangga (about the half-Malaysian children being geniuses, not the other part). Nevermind that these children are naturalised citizens of the UK and probably never gave us much thought.

Now as news of Sufiah the girl genius turned £130 per good-time hooker filters back to the Motherland, our concerned leaders decide to take action:

Effort To Save Former Oxford Prodigy Sufiah Yusof, Now A Vice Girl
KUALA LUMPUR, April 1 (Bernama) -- The Prime Minister's Department and the Malaysian Missionary Foundation (Yadim) will try to assist former child maths genius Sufiah Yusof, now aged 23 and fending for herself as a prostitute in Salford, Manchester. Minister in the Prime Minister's Department Datuk Dr Zahid Hamidi said they would help the gifted girl to return to the right path through the "Save Sufiah Programme".
"The first thing we should try to do is to contact her mother or arrange a meeting with Sufiah to find out the real reasons for her to turn to prostitution, offering her services through the Internet and using the name Shilpa Lee," he told reporters after attending a biefing by Yadim here Tuesday.
It has been reported in the "News of the World" that Sufiah is now a 130- pound an-hour hooker operating from her dingy back street flat. The "Save Sufiah programme" is headed by Deputy Minister in the PM's Department Datuk Dr Mashitah Ibrahim who will come up with strategies to assist Sufiah as soon as possible.
Sufiah created news when she was accepted into Oxford University at age just 13. Her mother, Malaysian-born Halimaton Yusof from Muar, Johor, and her father, Farooq Yusof from Pakistan both tutored her and her siblings at home.
Later on, YADIM went on a public appeal for funds for the "Save Sufiah programme", because "we don't even have money for flight tickets". Flight tickets? How do we even know she'll talk to you after you've spent the people's money for flight tickets to the UK?

That's first-class hypocracy if you ask me. YADIM spoke about "guiding her back to the right path". Sure, while taking a paid-for holiday to the UK. What about the scores of young girls prostituting themselves here, and not by their own choice either? We all know how they're treated: religious officials storm and barge brothels here, publicly humiliate these girls, splash their pictures all over the newspapers "as a lesson to others" (they actually invite the media to join them on these 'vice raids') , and then throw them in jail. What happened to guiding these girls back to the right path? What, they're mostly not Malaysians anyway? How Malaysian do you think Sufiah fancies herself? If you say you're doing this in the name of Islam, then why the double standards? I'd gladly pay your bus fare, no, make that your cab fare to Chow Kit, if you extend those 'strategies' to help Sufiah to those who are doing what she's doing because they simply don't have another choice.

The Bechdel Test

2008-07-22T11:43:00.051+08:00

This article got me thinking.

There really are very few movies that can pass the Bechdel Test ~ with two women in it, talking to each other about something other than a man.

We watched Dark Knight yesterday ~ no conversation between two women in it. The last movie we watched before that was Hancock. Don't think there were any women talking in that one either, although it definitely had one beautiful, STRONG woman. Let's see... before that we watched Kung Fu Panda. Technically there were two girls in the movie, but no girly talk between them, about men or otherwise.

MOST movies would fail the test. I had to think for some time before I remembered one movie that makes the cut: The Mona Lisa Smile. I wonder how many men enjoyed that movie. Some argue that Sex and The City is all about women talking. Sure. How often are they not talking about men, though? And excuse me if I feel that talking about shoes doesn't count.

Tragic. That women talking intellectually to one another doesn't sell a movie, when we actually do quite alot of it.

Chinese Preferred

2008-06-02T09:54:00.068+08:00

We saw this sign at One Utama the other day, on the window of a shop selling Feng Shui paraphernalia.

Maybe they were looking for someone who could speak in Chinese to cater to the target audience; so why not advertise for a 'Sales Assistant (Chinese-speaking preferred)'?. Lots of non-Chinese people out there now who can speak Chinese.

Maybe the shop carries items in the shape of pigs, and they don't want to offend Muslims (and in this country, I won't blame them for being cautious). So then advertise for a 'Sales Assistant (Non-Muslim preferred)'. Some Chinese people are Muslim.

Maybe they need someone well-versed in Feng Shui trinkets and their uses. Well. 'Sales Assistant (willing to learn)' will do, I think. Not all Chinese know about Feng Shui, and anyone can be trained.

Or maybe, they just don't like non-Chinese people. In which case, they got their sign right.

Follow The Leader ('s wife...)

2008-05-30T10:46:00.076+08:00

Malaysiakini reported yesterday:

M'sian missions going 'overboard' for VIP wives?

Deputy Prime Minister Najib Abdul Razak has rejected allegations that his wife, Rosmah Mansor, was given special treatment by M'sian embassies abroad.

Mohd Azmin Ali (PKR-Gombak) raised this issue at the Dewan Rakyat yesterday with emphasis on Rosmah, who allegedly went on luxury shopping sprees, with her large purchases transported back home at the expense of the Malaysian embassy in London and national carrier MAS.

Her infamous behaviours finally catching up on his political reputation, it seems. About time, too. I wonder if MAS had a chapter on her in their turnaround strategy?

The issue began during the Supplementary Supply Bill debate, when Azmin highlighted reports he received.

"The complaint that we have received is that many of the officers at the embassies abroad are ordered to receive these pembesar (VIPs) and their wives even when they are holidaying," he said.

"Certain personalities among the wives of cabinet ministers spend huge sums, go on shopping sprees for luxuries, refuse to pay taxes at the airport or to MAS, and the foreign affairs ministry has to bear the said expenses," he added.

This, he summed up, made the embassy neglect their official obligations.

Spot on. While I don’t doubt there are officials just jumping at the opportunity to skimp on work to kiss-(large)ass and carry shopping bags, there are also many who just want to do their work.

Najib added that Azmin was being "petty and frivolous".

No, he's not. That's tax payers' money paying for your wife's shopping's shipping cost.

Also, this unfortunate trend cascades down to the Government-Linked Companies (GLCs). Wives of top management executives travel overseas on company expenses under the guise of "Charity Work", and are accompanied for days by an entourage of officers from the company's country offices.

Agendas for these trips include (after the 1/2 hour mock cheque presentation ceremony), sightseeing to touristy places, fine dining, shopping and entertainment.

What, no need to work one ah?

Didn’t you guys way out there in the Kingdom of Oz - er, Putrajaya, form a committee on work performance in GLCs?

“Catalysing GLC Transformation to Advance Malaysia’s Development”, you all fancily described it.

The transformation of Government-Linked Companies (GLCs) into high-performing entities is critical for the future prosperity of Malaysia. To facilitate this transformation, the Putrajaya Committee on GLC High Performance (PCG) was set up.

Good stuff. You do know that GLCs are almost mini versions of the government, in many ways? They will do as you do, and their Datins and Puan Sris will do as your Datins and Puan Sris do.

How to crack the whip on the workers when they can (rightly) turn around and point fingers at your cash-flinging wife?

Another Clown...

2008-05-28T14:24:00.055+08:00

Independent parliamentarian and MP for Pasir Mas Ibrahim Ali thinks women should be taught to accept polygamy.

... and he said this in response to issues raised about the problems women face in the Syariah courts during divorce proceedings.

... and then he giggled, when he was called a "male chauvinist" by another man.

Here we are, trying to sort out current gender issues in the country, and we get brainless remarks and actions like that, from an elected MP, no less.

Then the international media picks up on it - AFP reported it under the headlines "Malaysian Lawmaker Advices Women to Accept Polygamy".

How embarassing is that?!

"“... Such problems happen because women cannot accept polygamy. From a preventive point of view, what about doing a big campaign so that women can accept polygamy?” he asked. Ibrahim said women did not understand that when they were pregnant for nine months, or had “problems” when they hit their 50s, their men still wanted to “have fun”."

How about a big campaign to ban b-o-d-o-h people from parliament instead?

oh right, because then we'd be left with two people in parliament.

***sigh***

Now There's Two...

2008-05-09T17:25:00.007+08:00

... to live together in bliss and delirious joy, oblivious to the skin colour disparities - one brown, one yellow, both skinny, as Reeza likes to say.

Yep, Reeza and I were married in a b-e-a-utiful ceremony in the National Mosque three weeks ago, with family and closest of friends in attendance. He wants to get an assortment of customised T-shirts that will shut people up even before they think about asking if he's Malay / I'm Chinese.

We've had our fair shair of that, from friends and not-really-friends alike. None meant to be hurtful or malicious of course, but it really is funny how people don't even think about it, before asking out loud: "Ooh, this your wife ah? Chinese ah?"

Yes, and we're happy. That line's meant to be printed on one of those T-shirts, by the way.

But on the whole, the acceptance and sincere wishes for happiness we've been receiving all round have been overwhelming. The wedding was gorgeous, exactly as I had imagined it - thanks to mummy dearest who, in her typical diplomatic way, managed to ensure that the Nikah ceremony was held inside the Masjid Negara, underneath the beautiful dome, with friends and family seated closeby.

When I wrote in for an approval to hold our marriage in the National Mosque, the mosque authorities initially replied with a letter that said we were only allowed to have the ceremony outside the prayer hall, because non-Muslims were not allowed into the hall.

I was upset beyond measure, and lost a few nights' sleep, wallowing in disappointment and outrage... this was the second such response. My first choice had actually been the breathtakingly beautiful Wilayah Mosque, but they didn't allow marriages inside their mosque either. They had another hall, constructed away from the main mosque, for marriages.

I contemplated launching into a tirade and write to the papers - institutionalising and over protection of Islam in Malaysia, etc etc etc...

But I think when you're very close to getting married, something happens to your inner energy, your qi. I woke up one morning after a fitful night and decided to just let it go. If I wasn't meant to be married in the serene and peaceful setting of a mosque, then so be it. If the marriage was meant to be, it will be.

And it was.

Thank you, everyone. For being there with us. To my wonderful family - mummy, my sisters and brothers (who needs events managers when you have the Ma Family Emergency Brigade?), my new family, friends...

Thank you.

Car Park Terror

2007-10-04T15:33:00.003+08:00

I parked at the car park outside KLCC yesterday and when I left the car park attendant verbally abused me.

It started with him saying he didn't have change for the RM50 that I gave him (and to think the reason why I had gone to the bank to withdraw more money was because I had given the last of my small change to a colleague because we were pulling together to buy gifts for a little orphan girl).

We haggled and he didn't want to relent, he said he had walked so many times to the shops to get change, and insisted that I repark my car and go and find my own small change. He kept saying he had no change, that everyone gave him an RM50 that day. I was not happy either, and held out, insisting that they should find change and not treat their customers this way, he retorted really rudely and said "you tak balik sini besok pun tiada apa la, I punye customer banyak lagi tau!" and gesturing wildly at me with his hands.

So it went on like that for a while, both of us adamant, until cars started piling up behind me to get out, then with an angry huff he opened the cashier drawer and gave me RM44 ringgit in change (which he supposedly didn't have), and yelled at me not to come back. Then, just for good measure, he even yelled sarcastically, "you puasa ka, hah?!" indicating that as if it would have been so hard to reverse, repark my car, get out and walk 7 minutes back to the mall, take the escalator down to the supermarket, find something small to buy, get change and walk another 7 minutes back just for him.

He actually did me a favor with that retort, because it reminded me that I was fasting, so I took a deep breath, looked at him and politely said, "ya, i memang puasa pun". His confused, stereotyped brain went into overdrive trying to figure out this un-match, but he managed to gesture rudely again as I drove out of the car park.

I was soooo upset.

...but the sad truth is that he's right, even if I dont' go back tomorrow, he's not going to lose out on his business. In favor of comfort and convenience, we are really at the mercy of these ruthless car park operators in town.

The incident remidned me of another one at the open air car park next to Maya Hotel, a RM5 per entry car park. I had planned a half work day so I could leave at lunch time to pick up some friends who were arriving from overseas. When I got to the car park at midday, I was shocked to see cars quadruple parked on all sides, and they told me I have to come back in an hour if I wanted to get out.

I asked them who was going to be responsible if someone had to leave in an emergency? If your wife called and told you she just got hospitalised and you can't go because these people don't want to move the cars away for you, how would you feel? They said they can't do anything and that I have to wait for an hour.

So I took out my handphone and pretended to take pictures of the ridiculous way they had allowed cars to park. A minute later one of the attendants took out a bunch of keys and together with another attendant, they started moving the cars, and I got out after 10 minutes.

...sigh... just ranting. I'm going to stick to the LRT. And pray that my fellow commuters wake up inspired to shower every morning.

Reflections on Merdeka

2007-09-20T13:42:00.000+08:00

Yes, this is almost a month late. I wanted to send this to The Star, for their "What Merdeka Means to Me" competition for young Malaysians, because I realised with horror that next year I won't qualify anymore as a 'young' Malaysian. Discriminators. But I was busy, and didn't get around to sending it...

Fifty years of Independence and 44 years of being known as Malaysians, and we still walk around with disclaimers - “I’m Malaysian Chinese”, or “He’s Malaysian Indian”, or “They’re Malaysian Eurasian”.

What’s so bad about being plain ‘Malaysian’?

As a young girl growing up in Malaysia, when (most) people used to have (more) problems distinguishing race from religion, and I was silly enough to find it offensive being classified as another race, I used to put forth my own disclaimer too – “I’m Chinese Muslim. My parents are originally Chinese Muslims from China.” This rather long disclaimer usually attracted more questions and probing until I got boxed nicely into a Category.

Now that I’m grown up, no longer feel offended being mistaken for another race and found the identity that is me, I just want to be Malaysian. I want to be able to say “I am Malaysian” and stop there.

But I guess people around me - my fellow Malaysians, haven’t found this level of comfort yet.

My parents were children of Chinese government officers who lost their country and with it, their rights to return home, to war. My mother and her family were refugees for the first few years of her life, seeking asylum in one foreign country before settling down as immigrants in another. As the first-generation born in this beautiful country, we were taught from childhood never to take for granted the rights of having a country to belong to; to have a country to call home.

But growing up here, I’ve never really been allowed by others to be known simply as a Malaysian.

Granted, we have an interesting family history. Everyone wants to know how my father who was born in the African continent came to grow up in Ipoh, and how it was that my mother spent her early years in the Indian sub-continent and grew up in between Europe and Asia, and of course how they met, married and brought up six children in Malaysia. Yes, I’m thinking of documenting it and writing a best-seller myself. I have no issues sharing our history, but why is it that the story always needs to end with an affirmation from my listener?

“Oh. So, are you actually Chinese?”

No, no. I’m Malaysian. I was born here. I grew up here. I have a MyKad. I’m Malaysian. Of Chinese descent, yes, but what does it matter?

I’m guessing, that what makes it matter is because we’ve been conditioned to categorize people up neatly. We need to check off an invisible list next to people we meet for the first time: Race, check. Religion, check. Socio-economic status, check.

Then, we can comfortably list them into our different lists: The Can-meet-my-other-friends’-list, or the Can-bring-home-to-meet-parents list, or more importantly, the Potential-marriageable-candidate-without-giving-grandma-a-heart-attack list.

The clincher is always, “oh, but you don’t look Malaysian”. Oh I don’t, do I? Tell me, if you put Pak Lah, Samy Vellu and Ong Ka Ting on plastic chairs in a neat little row, who would look more ‘Malaysian’ to you? Really, who? I’d vote for the made-in-Malaysia plastic chairs, but they don’t have MyKads. Come on, what does the average Malaysian look like anyway?

What Merdeka means to me? It means no longer having people ask me “are you Chinese or Malay?” because it wouldn’t mean anything to people anymore. It means no longer having checkboxes that say Chinese, Indian, or Malay or worse, Lain-lain anymore on forms. It means no longer having your religion and race stamped on your MyKad so that we can be fitted neatly into categorical boxes. It means having vernacular languages as optional subjects in schools, for everyone. It means bringing up a new generation of Malaysians who speak at least two to three different languages. It means freedom to practice any religion instead of this freedom extended to all but one. It means total acceptance, not just tolerance, of colour, belief and practice.

We have a long way to go, and not just because most of our grandmothers are still alive, but because many of us will, subconsciously, carry the same sentiments and impose the same hopes on our own children in 20 or 30 years’ time. But Merdeka to me, means that we no longer need to, because we would be free, Merdeka, of this mental list that still insistently separates and divides us.

Self-imposed Segregation

2007-08-24T23:02:00.000+08:00

There is a quiet, almost subconscious movement to segregate Muslim and Non-Muslim Malaysians, and it is starting in schools. It has been going on even when I was in school, but from what I have heard and seen recently, it's getting worse.

Do you know what is happening in schools?

I know a young Muslim girl of Malay-Chinese parentage who attended a Chinese primary school before starting Form 1 in a national school. Her parents wanted her to continue taking Mandarin classes which were being offered in the school, but the school authorities said no. She was required to attend Agama (Islamic Religious) classes, they said, and Agama class is held at the same time as Mandarin language class. For that lesson period, all Muslim students must attend Agama class while their Non-Muslim classmates go to different language classes. This is Damansara Jaya, by the way, or Damansara Utama - one of these schools.

Here is what else is happening in schools:

At school camps, different sessions are held for Muslim and Non-Muslim students, interspersed with the camp activities. Pick up any programme for a school camp and you'll see. Tazkirah after Maghrib prayers for Muslim students (compulsory!), and Moral Values talk / Free Time for Non-Muslims. Why not have just one session, either a Tazkirah or a Moral Values talk for both Muslims and Non-Muslims? Are we trying to teach them different things at the same camp for say, leadership or drug abuse prevention & awareness?

Do you know what is happening in universities?

A well-known university's student council organises an annual community programme, where a group of undergraduates spends a week or so with a poverty-stricken village to assist the villagers. When I last evaluated one of these programmes, I noticed that the list of participating students were all Malay. Did any Non-Malays volunteer for the programme? Yes. Why are they not on the list? We had to turn them away. WHY? Erm... because the villagers requested it. Because if they host Non-Muslim students in their homes, it would be difficult, you know, with food and stuff.

---cringe---

My opinion on this? And I made it known - then don't help this village. Harsh, yes I know. But harsh is what we have to be to stop this becoming a normal trend. To the students organising it, it didn't seem like a big deal to turn away a handful of Non-Muslim, Non-Malay students who wanted to be part of the programme, but to those students, it could be a very big deal. What, my help is not good enough? I can't imagine the damage done to those minority students in a local university, who may already feel somewhat marginalised.

Do you know what is happening beyond universities?

Teachers who organise student camps assign the students to rooms based on religion. Their reasoning is that Muslim students will find it difficult to perform their prayers if they share a room with Non-Muslims. Teachers themselves, when attending stay-in training programmes, prefer to squeeze four into a room for two rather than share with a Non-Muslim. Teachers draw up programmes that separate Muslims and Non-Muslim students. Teachers select only Malay Muslim students to take part in corporate-sponsored student programmes. Lecturer supervisors in universities do not question why only Malay Muslim students are taking part in a particular community programme.

Segregation this way is terribly wrong. Not allowing that young Muslim girl to take Mandarin classes has effectively made language, and with it, culture, one of the elements in the invisible barrier separating Muslims and Non-Muslims which in this country essentially boils down to Malays and Non-Malays. What of people who don't fit so neatly into these categories, those who sit somewhere in the middle, that group of people who are gradually growing in number? Is this segragation an effort to push, push, push and eventually force these in-betweeners to chose a template category to identify with?

New norms are beginning to form with regards to interaction between Muslims and Non-Muslims, but these norms are based on incorrect assumptions on the practical requirements of Islam. When in God's name did praying in the same room as a Non-Muslim or hosting Non-Muslims at the dinner table become an inconvenience for us Muslims? The Mufti of Perak has spoken, you know, and yes, we can even share spoons.

The longer we are quiet about these new norms, the more widespread they become, and people, both Muslims and Non-Muslims will soon take them for granted. This isn't the way I want to live, and if you feel the same, be alert about similar trends and speak up.

Meter + RM10 = KL Taxis

2007-08-10T13:29:00.000+08:00

I have been terrible at keeping this up. An encouraging conversation with a colleague yesterday prompted me to stop procrastinating and filing up all my thoughts for 'when I'm free'.

So this is a rant about KL's HORRIBLE taxi drivers. I don't like generalising or stereotyping, but I will today because this is a rant and I am an e-x-a-s-p-e-r-a-t-e-d public transport user in KL.

One out of 10 taxi drivers will take you to wherever it is you wanted to go at whatever time of day or night and charge you by the meter. The other nine will ask you for more money.

Out of principle, I never agree to get into a cab if the driver asks for more money. Partly this is to make up for all the times that I did at my last job. I needed to travel to clients' offices very often then, and the office covered my travelling expenses. So as long as the taxi driver gave me a receipt for whatever exorbitant price he was charging me (I once paid RM50 to get from KL to PJ *shame on me*), I got in. I was in client servicing, and it was imperative that I was punctual for meetings. I'm not proud of it now though, because every obliging customer encourages more unscrupulous behaviour.

Now that I take cabs mostly for non-work purposes, I try to stick to my principles and that means I sometimes end up waiting for up to 45 minutes like some morbid clown, waving my hand frantically at passing cabs, opening doors and sticking my head in, then slamming the door shut and muttering curses under my breath.

It's annoying enough as it is for me, but what really gets to me is seeing cab drivers refusing to take elderly ladies with bags full of groceries, or families with exhausted children trying to get home. There's simply no compassion out there.

Is it really that hard to make a living as an honest, by-the-meter taxi driver? For many friendly ones who tell me their life stories (and their neighbour's) during the ride, apparently it isn't so bad. Overheads are reasonable now with gas, and it's a flexible job - the harder you work, the more you earn. That doesn't apply to my job, you know.

So I'm thinking, there is probably some trend among the "meter tambah sepuluh ringgit" cabbies to work minimal hours at hotspots like KLCC, and fleece as many passengers as possible in the shortest time frame. Which is why they refuse to go anywhere outside a 10km radius.

I'm not even going to go into how badly this reflects on us - I've offered enough sympathetic smiles to bewildered tourists while trying not to appear disdainful of my fellow countrymen. Visit Mana Year 2007 again?

Enough has been said about Malaysian taxi drivers, I know. And enough has been debated about what needs to be done. Me, I'm just going to continue being the taxi-hailing mad clown - my personal effort to stop this unethical practice. Drop in an ocean, I know, but it's like boycotting sharksfin soup. We've got to start somewhere.

Research, please

2007-03-15T16:40:00.000+08:00

Someone alerted my sister to an article posted on an internet forum, titled "Mixed Chinese Indian Muslim Marriages".

Among the author's examples of mixed Chinese-Indian Muslim marriages, was this:

"Shireen Ma daughter of Capt. Hj. Nasir Ma, a grandaughter of Haj Ibrahim Ma founder of PERKIM, most prominent Hui Muslim preacher in Malaysia during Tunku era in 1950-1970s and now work as TV3 newsreader married an Indian noble gentkeman. Heaven bless them all, at least our chinese lineage spread wider and conquered the Indian Himalaya to blow its prosperity East and West ! Her mum Rosey Ma was an Uihgur formerly from SingKiang but migrated to Turkey long time ago. She is now doing her Ph.D in University of Malaya on Chinese Muslim Diaspora in 19th and 20th century."

Hmm... I could rightly say that's not me, because the name is wrong. But, what are the odds that there is another Ms. Ma in town whose parents and grandfather had exactly the same names and professions as mine, and who read the news on TV3?

So after some consideration, I safely decided it must be me he was writing about.

Hence this post. I'm just clarifying: I'm NOT married to an Indian noble gentlemen. However, if there are any offers out there, send me a resume. Also, my mother is NOT Uighur. I'd have trouble explaining my flat Chinese nose if she was.

No intentions of posting the site, or the author's name, because we received a written apology. But seriously, there's a reason why writers on the free Internet space are constantly asked to be responsible.

Of Salaams and Chopsticks

2007-03-13T14:15:00.000+08:00

Came across this letter by Reza Putra on Malaysiakini. Brings back memories. I distinctively remember being told by an Ustazah in school that if we 'jawab salaam' from a 'Kafir', re: Non-Muslim, it is Haram. Sinful. For wishing peace on to someone else?

But then again, this was also the Ustazah who told me to go home and tell my mother that eating with chopsticks was Haram, so I never took her word for it.

I'm lucky because I had sensible parents who assured me I wouldn't burn in hell for using chopsticks. But there are thousands of kids in our schools, then and now, who believe every word that comes out of an Ustaz's or an Ustazah's mouth, simply because they are supposed to know better. Even if there's reasonable doubt, kids (and even adults, I may add) are simply scared into submission, because the alternative, is Haram. Sinful. And woe betide all ye sinners because [and here they elaborate on the horrible punishments that await sinners in hell].

The way Islam is being taught in our schools and institutions needs a serious revamp. These scare tactics have got to stop. There is always a better explanation for an action, or non-action.

Simple example: I remember at a Tahlil once when we stood in congregation to pray, the lady next to me pulled me closer to her to fill in the space, and she said "come closer, Syaitan prays in the spaces between two people in prayer".

OK, I don't know how true that is, BUT, how about thinking of an alternative rationale behind the concept of standing close to one another in prayer? That it creates more space so more people can pray together, which is always a good thing? Or the all-time Malaysian favourite - that it will 'mengeratkan hubungan silaturrahim'.

Positive thinking, people. I don't think God wanted us to do all these things He asked of us, simply because we'd be doomed if we didn't. And when we do take the time to think of sensible and logical reasons, then issues like answering a Salaam greeting or eating with chopsticks wouldn't even arise.

One for the Boys

2007-02-12T15:28:00.000+08:00

I received this email forwarded by a colleague. I'm still trying to trace the author (whom I'm convinced must be a man) and the publication it was carried in. Any information is appreciated.

Subject: ISTERI ADA Ph.D, SUAMI CUMA LULUSAN SPM

ISTERI ada ijazah tertinggi, suami hanya lulusan SPM! Boleh bahagiakah rumah tangga? Seorang gadis menanyakan soalan ini dan meminta pandangan ikhlas saya, Gadis yang hanya mahu dikenali sebagai "Jiwa Resah" itu memberitahu dia kini betul-betul di dalam dilemma.
"Saya sedang menyiapkan tesis untuk Ph.D dan mungkin akan menerima gelaran Dr. tidak lama lagi." Dia meluahkan masalahnya menerusi e-mail dan menambahkan: "Sedangkan bakal suami saya tidak ada ijazah, pendidikannya pun setakat peringkat rendah."

Sedikit pun tidak meragui hubungan cinta yang telah terjalin sejak dia mula-mula belajar di Universiti. Sudah lebih enam tahun! Malah, jejaka ini adalah cintanya yang pertama dan
terakhir. Pendek kata, sebuah cinta kudus yang tidak boleh digugat oleh sesiapa.

"Cuma ada suara-suara negative yang menakutkan saya, kononnya jika isteri berkelulusan lebih tinggi daripada suami, rumah tangga tidak akan bahagia. Akhir-akhir ini semakin ramai yang memberi gambaran seperti itu, termasuk di kalangan keluarga sendiri," keluh "Jiwa Resah". Lagi.

Sebenarnya saya tidak tahu sejauh mana sekeping ijazah (tidak kira B.A, M.A atau Ph.D) boleh
menjamin kebahagiaan rumah tangga. Orang dulu-dulu tidak ada ijazah, diploma atau sijil, tetapi rumah tangga mereka kekal rukun damai hingga anak cucu.

Tetapi, perihal isteri berkelulusan lebih tinggi daripada suami, memang satu isu yang menarik untuk dibincangkan. Orang perempuan berijazah tetapi orang lelaki sijil pun tidak ada! Perkembangan semasa menuntut kita untuk memikirkan perkara ini secara terbuka.

Pada hemah saya, kini lebih ramai perempuan pandai. Angka-angka kemasukan di institusi-institusi pengajian tinggi menunjukkan bilangan perempuan melebihi lelaki. Malah, di sesetengah universiti awam nisbahnya ialah tiga perempuan, satu lelaki – 3 perempuan : 1 lelaki.

Jika lebih ramai perempuan masuk universiti, tentulah lebih ramai yang keluar dengan ijazah sarjana muda, sarjana dan doctor falsafah. Ramai yang lulus cemerlang dalam berbagai-bagai bidang ekonomi, kejuruteraan, perubatan, undang-undang, multimedia dan sebagainya. Wanita-wanita itu telah meletakkan diri mereka pada tahap yang tinggi di bidang akademik.

Sebaliknya, sudah terbukti lelaki kini kurang berminat masuk universiti. Sebahagiannya lebih tertarik untuk memasuki alam pekerjaan sebaik sahaja menamatkan pengajian menengah. Dengan sijil SPM atau STPM mereka boleh jadi kerani, mekanik, jurujual, atau paling koman pun pembantu restoran makanan segera.

Oleh sebab wanita berijazah lebih ramai, secara logiknya tentulah tidak semua mereka dapat berkahwin dengan lelaki yang berijazah. Jika mengambil kira nisbah yang dinyatakan tadi, memang tidak mungkin setiap wanita yang berijazah dapat suami berijazah, kecuali setiap
lelaki berijazah dibenarkan kahwin tiga atau empat wanita berijazah.

Pendek kata, wanita berijazah jangan terlalu berharap untuk bertemu jodoh dengan lelaki yang
setaraf atau lebih tinggi dari segi akademik. Kalau yang lulus ijazah M.A hendak tunggu lelaki M.A juga, ada kemungkinan dia mendara hingga ke tua. Jika wanita Ph.D hendak tunggu lelaki Ph.D alamatnya `si Dr' akan kempunan hingga mati.

Wanita-wanita berpendidikan tinggi hari ini sepatutnya bersedia untuk menerima lelaki yang
berkelulusan lebih rendah daripada mereka. Malah, ketika lelaki dikatakan sebagai `species' yang semakin pupus, seorang wanita sudah di kira bertuah jika dapat berkahwin, walaupun dengan lelaki yang buta huruf.

Tentang bahagia atau tidak rumah tangga sekiranya kelulusan isteri lebih tinggi, ini saya tidak
pasti. Saya tidak pernah percaya bahawa kebahagiaan perkahwinan bergantung pada kelulusan akademik. Resipi kebahagiaan berkahwin ialah saling memahami dan bertolak ansur.

Mesti ada garis penentu yang jelas dan sentiasa dipatuhi antara peranan suami dan peranan isteri. Tidak kira apa pun kelulusan, suami isteri mesti memahami dan melakukan dengan baik peranan masing- masing. Ini yang perlu diutamakan dalam sesebuah rumah tangga.

Peranan suami ialah sebagai ketua keluarga, sebagai perdana menteri. Dia mesti diberi kuasa penentu dalam membawa hala tuju rumah tangga. Malah, suami boleh menggunakan kuasa veto
apabila keadaan mendesak. Isteri paling kuat pun hanya jadi Menteri Kewangan.

Apa yang menjadi masalah ialah apabila suami isteri gagal memainkan peranan yang sepatutnya. Sebagai contoh, oleh kerana mempunyai kelulusan tinggi Ph.D atau sebagainya sesetengah isteri
berasa dia perlu menjadi Perdana Menteri. Dia mengarah itu dan ini, dia juga yang memutuskan segalanya.

Tentulah canggung apabila wanita menjadi ketua keluarga. Hilanglah maruah seorang suami sekiranya hendak membeli seluar dalam pun isteri yang menentukan bentuk, warna dan sebagainya. Malulah suami hal katil pun mesti diluluskan oleh isteri, tidak boleh buat mengikut sesedap rasa.

Wanita boleh memperolehi ijazah setinggi mana, boleh juga memasuki mana-mana bidang
professional dan boleh menduduki kerusi paling tinggi di pejabat. Tidak kisah dia menjadi Pengarah Urusan, Ketua Pengarah, CEO, Ahli Yang Berhormat, Menteri Kabinet, hatta Perdana
Menteri.

Tetapi ingat, di rumah dia tetap orang nombor dua terpenting. Orang nombor satu tetap suami, walaupun suami hanya lulusan SPM dan bekerja hanya sebagai pemandu lori sampah. Di pejabat CEO itu bos, tetapi bila berada di rumah, pemandu lori sampah itu pula menjadi bos.

Sekiranya wanita boleh menerima pembahagian peranan dan tugas ini, pada hemat saya tidak ada halangan untuk kebahagiaan rumah tangga. Selagi isteri tidak suka membuli suami yang tidak ijazah, perkahwinan boleh berjalan dengan baik. Semua bias diatur! Bagi wanita berijazah Ph.D, cuba fikirkan ini.

Kerap terjadi suami yang berkelulusan rendah akan berjiwa rendah juga. Dia sendiri malu untuk mengikut isteri ke majlis rasmi, atau terasa kekok untuk menemankan isteri ke tempat-tempat
tertentu. Walaupun tiada kelulusan, suami sepatutnya memperagakan diri sesuai dengan kedudukan isteri yang berjawatan tinggi.

I think this has to be one of the more detrimental pieces of writing to our society. It's essentially telling our boys that it's ok not to have a university degree, because hey, you're in short supply and damn, any girl will be lucky to marry you.

That's wrong. The issue isn't whether or not you need to have a qualification that matches your wife's. The issue here is that we are losing our boys in tertiary education. If the ratio is really 3:1 in universities, then there. is. a. problem. Where are the boys? And no, don't tell me that there are simply more girls in the country. Here are some statistics, do the math:

The total population ratio of males to females in Malaysia is 1.01:1. But ratio of girls to boys in universities is 3:1? Wikipedia is kinder than the author, they say it's 2:1, and they called the situation 'rather peculiar when placed in a global context'. Also on Wikipedia:

In 2004 the UNDP (United Nations Development Programme) representative Dr. Richard Leete stated that Malaysia's ranking in the UNDP gender index was not "as high as it should be". His exact quote was "I don't know Malaysia's present ranking (in the UNDP's gender index) offhand but I know it is not as high as it should be because of this unusual problem. Boys are dropping out of secondary and tertiary education, with females outnumbering the males with a high margin". Leete seemed to indicate this was a uniquely Malaysian situation.

Why?

Zainah Anwar once wrote about our boys being contented with a post-high school job that pays RM800 a month, and achieving their lifelong passion of... buying a motorbike. Is this really happening? Why are we letting it happen then, and forwarding emails like this en mass that tell our men, no matter, even if your wife has a PhD, you're still the boss at home...?

You know, it isn't the women that I'm worried about here. It's the men. The author is also telling women, especially highly educated women, that they should be prepared to settle for less, and to always remember that their husbands are the masters of the house. Well, pppfffffttt. Like I said, I'm not worried about the ladies. A well-educated woman would know how to let her husband FEEL and THINK that he's the boss.

But we need to stop feeding this poison to our boys. I'm writing this for the boys. It's NOT ok to be complacent and not strive for self-improvement, and I'm not just talking about university degrees here.

Oh, and news flash, Mr. Sexist: Your partially right about boys being a 'species yang semakin pupus' but you left out the details. The boys are everywhere, just look at who's riding them motorbikes. It's the educated, marriagable men who are in danger of extinction.

Heroine of the Day - The Cashier Lady

2007-01-02T19:36:00.000+08:00

Hooray for the civic-minded and courageous Malaysian woman!

This particular one was a cashier at The Guardian pharmacy in KLCC, a sweet-looking lady wearing a tudung.

I was third or fourth in a long line of people waiting to pay, and noticed that a couple had pushed their way to the front of the line. He was a tall Mat Salleh, she was, I think, judging by her looks and accent, Malaysian. Unfortunately.

It was clear to everyone within earshot that the lady was assuring her foreign friend that it was OK to push to the front of the line and that the cashiers will serve him.

Our cashier heroine looked up from her cash register, smiled, and said loudly: "Sir, the line is that way," and pointed to the end of the line.

Embarassed, he turned to his lady friend and accused her loudly: "See? I told you we couldn't do this!" She gave a sheepish smile and they backed away.

I wanted to bow to the cashier lady when I reached the counter, filled with awe at this rare display of firmly and politely putting someone in their place.

There's one thing about stuck-up foreigners who think they own the world and come to our country and push their way around. They're a real nuisance who deserve all the crap service they complain and whine about, and all the belacan-and-santan-induced diarrhoea it takes to shut them up.

But, when a Malaysian actually encourages them to think they can have their way or that they have special social priviledges over others, THAT is a real problem. Especially if the foreigner is a decent citizen of the civilised world who abides by social norms.

Just what did that woman tell her friend when she tried to get him to the front of the line? "It's ok, you're white"? Or "Nevermind, you can do this in my country, really"? Most likely, I think she probably said something like "Just go, no one will say anything".

Well, wrong call, lady. Someone did say something, and she is the epitome of what a Malaysian woman should be like, not you.

Program Latihan Khidmat Negara

2007-01-02T18:41:00.000+08:00

The first day of 2007 saw me taking an achingly long bus trip from KL to Terengganu for a training programme. On the way, we stopped for lunch at the Temerloh R&R, which was unusually crowded.

Six or seven busloads of National Service trainees were being ferried to their first day at camp, and the R&R was overrun by teenagers. ...who stuck blatantly to their own kind - A group of Chinese boys here, a table of Malay girls there, small pockets of Indian kids standing together.

I remember thinking "Oh wow, good thing that they're going for National Service." That's what the programme is for, isn't it? To strengthen racial integration among Malaysian youth?

I'm really curious to know how successful the programme has been with previous batches. I haven't had the opportunity to speak to anyone who's been through it; if you have, let me know if it has worked for you.

Now they've even introduced cross-racial foster families into the programme to help the integration process. That's pretty good. I wonder though, if three months is enough time to foster 'appreciation for each other’s cultures and cultivate tolerance'. The NS Council Chairman said "the best way to promote unity is to start them young".

My take is, at 17 years old, after Form Five, that's not 'young' anymore. Plus, we're talking about 11 years of (for the majority) government education system, and 17 years of being brought up in (for the majority, again) single-race / multiracial but apathetic, neighborhoods. Not only is that not 'young' anymore, it's also Too. Late.

What happens after three months of training and being together?

They go back to where they came from.

I would like to think that the program would be a life-changing period for some of these kids, who may take away life-long cross-racial friendships with them, and grow up to teach their own kids about the acceptance and sacrifice that is needed to live in a country like ours. But at the end of the day, the National Training program remains an intervention effort - cure, not prevention. Three months to undo 17 years of programming.

All that money going into the program so that Ali, Ah Meng and Muthu can dress alike and fire guns together, and then fall asleep together in lectures about tolerance...

Maybe, I really can't say. Maybe it'll work. Let me know.

FESPIC Games

2006-11-25T15:08:00.000+08:00

The Far East and South Pacific Games for the Disabled (FESPIC Games) begins this weekend in K.L. This is the 2nd largest games for the Disabled after the Paralympics.

Check out the FESPIC KL'06 website here.

It's a shame that the mainstream media is not too excited about it. The build-up to the Asian Games in Doha has entirely overshadowed the FESPIC Games. I would think the athletes for both Games have worked equally as hard and deserve the support of their countrymen.

Take some time out this weekend to watch some of the action. The venues and schedules are on the website.

Tuanku, Pindah Rumah, Tuanku

2006-11-15T12:00:00.000+08:00

'RM400 million for new Istana Negara'

Why do we need a new Istana Negara? Why? Why? WHY?

"We need a new palace with larger space. Currently, the Balai Rong Seri of Istana Negara is also used for banquets and meetings. One room for multiple use is just inadequate,"

Why would one room for multiple use be inadequate? You can't have more than one function going on at the same time, can you? I didn't quite understand whether space is the issue here. Is space a problem? Stop giving out so many Datuk-ships lah. Then there would be less dignitaries at palace functions.

"It will not be the largest palace as there are larger ones around, but will be one suitable for a country like Malaysia,"

...erm... sorry, but what was the relevance there again? That was almost apologetic - it sounded almost like "Sorry we are not planning to build the largest palace in the world to go with that largest roti canai / longest teh tarik, but really, we don't need such a large palace."

We don't! The one we have is beautiful! What, really, what is it? Is it because it wasn't built AS a palace in the first place? That it was actually the home of some rich Chinese fellow called Chan Wing when it was built back in 1928? So what. One of the royal palaces in Holland used to be a farmhouse.

The history behind it is what gives meaning and emotional attachment to a royal palace. It is already difficult enough for Malaysians to place any emotional attachment to our King, because of the rotation system among the state rulers. Our monarchs come and go; the emotional relevance associated with a royal family's residence would be found in their home state palaces. If the Istana Negara holds any meaning to Malaysians and visitors, it would be because it housed every one of our Kings since Independence.

What would we say about the new palace on Jalan Duta anyway? I'd imagine it'd be difficult to find it in the first place, what with all those mini-palaces in the neighbourhood. And 400 million Ringgit. We can build 67 primary schools with that money. Trust me, I know. Interestingly enough, the Thai Royal family's residential palace also houses a school and hospital for the royal staff and the needy.

And turning the existing Istana Negara into a royal museum. Oh please, no. First of all, Malaysians are as interested in visiting museums as stuffed cows are in learning Braille. It's really very sad, but that's another issue we will explore another day. Second, we have enough royal museums, which I think are more appropriate since they are housed in the individual royal states and capture the essence of that state's unique royal culture and history. I would suggest better maintenance (which we also have a problem with, don't we?) and better marketing strategies to make the existing royal museums actually interesting enough and fun to visit.

Is it too late? Can this decision be reconsidered, or has money already changed hands and have settled too deeply in the pockets of a select few who managed to convince some people that we NEED a new palace and that these or those people can get the job done...

Bangsa Malaysia

2006-11-07T09:37:00.000+08:00

So one day, there was a jar of dark chocolate chip cookies, milk chocolate chip cookies and white chocolate chip cookies. They all coexisted happily and lived in perfect harmony - like the ebony and ivory piano key song.

And because the jar kept being shifted and moved, all the chocolate chip cookies bumped and rubbed against each other. Occasionally, some dark chocolate chips got stuck into a white chocolate chip cookie, or a milk chocolate chip got stuck into a dark chocolate chip cookie, and sometimes one cookie would end up with dark, milk and white chocolate chips in it. Soon, the jar was full of diverse and mixed chocolate chip cookies.

The people who looked into the jar to pick a cookie thought this was great! They had so many choices! Some still felt that dark chocolate chip cookies tasted the best, and others felt that nothing beats white chocolate chip cookies. And that was fine, because they could just pick those cookies. Those who liked different kinds of chocolate chips found the perfect snack in the mixed-up cookies.

So the cookie jar was really sought after because it had all these yummy, different cookies. Soon all the cookies were taken, and all the different chocolate chips served their final purpose of satisfying someone's tastebud.

Except for one particular chocolate chip. It became a politician and decided that getting mixed in with different kinds of chocolate chip wasn't a good idea. So it was left all alone at the bottom of the jar and thrown into the bin.

Ramadhan Thoughts

2006-10-18T21:46:00.000+08:00

Ramadhan again, or almost tail-end of it, and the trials and tribulations that come with spending it in oh-so-happy-multiracial Kuala Lumpur.

Five years ago, I spent one Ramadhan with my mother’s family in Istanbul and since then have always reflected on that wonderful experience every time Ramadhan arrives. While many Turks are not devout practicing Muslims, I think they truly embody the spirit of the fasting month.

Being oriental and looking every bit the tourist walking down the Covered Bazaar in Istanbul, I often received some flattering remarks and an invitation to some Apple Tea and Turkish Delight. Through my broken Turkish and sign language I’d tell my potential host that I was fasting. And their faces would light up. And they’d invite me in anyway, and gush at me with happiness, happy that I was fasting. I don’t remember, not once, anyone asking “Ah, you Muslim?” They were just happy that I was fasting. Sometimes I even came away from the shop with a gift. It is a great feeling of unconditional acceptance by a Muslim brother or sister, regardless of their own religious outlook.

Let’s get back to Kuala Lumpur.

NST carried an article a week ago about a few Christian pastors who fast during this holy Muslim month, as a sign of respect for their Muslim friends, and also for self-discipline. In fact, recently a non-Muslim colleague of mine shared with me that he fasts along with his Muslim colleagues every year during Ramadhan, simply because "everyone's fasting. It's a matter of respect." He even gets up for Sahur. I find that highly commendable. Regretfully, I’ve never given much thought to abstaining from meat on Fridays if I happened to be out with Catholic friends, or not eating beef in front of Buddhist or Hindu friends.

Last weekend, my brother Ismael who boards at an international school here, came home for his term break. He told us that on the first day of Sahur, when he and his sleepy friends stood in line for the food, the Malay cafeteria lady who was serving them stopped when it was his turn and asked “You Muslim ka?”

“If I wasn’t Muslim, why would I go through all that trouble to wake up so early in the morning and walk all the way to the Cafeteria for Sahur?!” complained Ismael.

My question is, so what if he wasn’t Muslim?

Today, after a day-long training session, the training centre prepared meal boxes for the Breaking of Fast and lined them up on a table outside the training room. I walked out with some co-workers and we picked up our boxes as we passed by. A training centre employee stood guard near the table and told me “This is for Muslims only.”

I looked back at him and said “I know”, and walked away with my box.

Now I’m sorry I did that, especially since I had been fasting all day, and he had been fasting all day. But guilt aside for being brash and rude, my question still is - so what if I wasn’t?

What if that colleague of mine, or any other non-Muslim co-worker was in that training session and did not take lunch or even a drink over the course of the day, out of sheer respect? Would it be so hard to spare a meal box? There was definitely more than enough, as is so common with food supply in blessed Malaysia during Ramadhan. Why draw a line as to what a Non-Muslim can do to relate to his Muslim friends?

It seems absurd to me how we insist on closing up our religion to others, putting up invisible barriers that prevent them from taking a closer look at our way of life. How do we expect a greater understanding of Islam among Non-Muslims without providing them the opportunity to study and experience it?

That brings me also to the subject of the mosques in Malaysia. There are strict hours during which tourists may visit the mosques - outside of the prayer times. While I am all for keeping tourists and visitors out during the weekly Friday prayers for practical reasons, I don't see why we cannot share with them the insider's view during other prayer times.

In Istanbul tourists are taught to remove their shoes and allowed to enter the mosques where they sit quietly in the backrows, observing people in prayer. I would think those tourists leave the mosque much more well-informed than those who visit an empty mosque, wondering what in the world goes on behind the taped-off zone they are forbidden to enter.

Open up. What are we afraid of?

Botox Banned

2006-07-28T10:58:00.000+08:00

National Fatwa Council Declares Botox 'Sinful'

We have a distant relative, a sweet old Makcik who recently lost her husband. She suffers from some dystrophy ailment in her facial muscles, and cannot keep her eyelids open on her own.

She had to use small pieces of tape to tape her eyelids up to her eyebrows, just so she could see.

Some months ago, Makcik began Botox treatment, and it has helped. Now she can see her grandchildren without having to tape her eyelids open.

I couldn't imagine anything else a sweet old grandmother would ask for, without having to sin for it.

With love from Singapore

2006-07-27T14:38:00.000+08:00

I received this email today. I must be really very special. It's a shame I was brought up with principles.

Dear Friend,

My name is Mr.Halin Sun. I trained and work as an external auditor for the United Overseas Bank (UOB), working as part of a bigger team that covers the entire Asian region. I had taken pains to find your contact through personal endeavors.

On routine audit check last month, I discovered some investment accounts that had been dormant for the least twelve years. All the accounts belong to a single holder with monies totaling a little above $16.2 million United States Dollars plus interest. Banking regulation/legislation in Singapore demand that I notify the fiscal authorities after a statutory time period of twelve years when dormant accounts of this type are called in by the monetary regulatory bodies. The above set of facts underscores my reason of writing and making the following proposing.

My investigations of the said account reveals that the investor died in 1993 the exact time the account were last operated. I can confirm with certainty that the said investor died interstate and no next–of–kin to his estate has been found or has come forward all these years. I am of the settled conviction that using my insider leverage, I, working with you can secure the funds in the account for us instead of allowing it pass as unclaimed funds into the coffers of the Government of Singapore. This exactly is why I crave your participation and co-operation. I have seized all relevant documents (legal and Banking) that will facilitate our putting you forward as the claimant/beneficiary of the funds and ultimately transfer the money to any account nominated by you. Of course you shall be handsomely rewarded for your part in this transaction as the people I am working with are prepared to allocate a 20% slice of the total funds for your efforts. I shall however leave out the finer details of this transaction.

Be assured that my colleagues and I are on top of the situation all the time and there will be no risk whatsoever if you agree to come on board. Needless to say, UTMOST CONFIDENTIALITY is of vital importance if we are to successfully reap the immense benefits of this transaction.

To maintain the level of security required to see this transaction to come to a successful conclusion, I have intentionally left out the finer details. To affirm your willingness and cooperation to my proposal please do so by email (halin_sun@yahoo.it) providing
the following details:

(1.) Your full names, (2.) Date of birth, (3.) Telephone and fax numbers, (4.) Email and postal addresses.

I do expect your prompt response.
Thank you,
Mr. Halin Sun.

Well, Mr. Halin Sun, thanks for the offer but I don't think I'll take it. So since I'm not going to, I thought I'd share it here, maybe someone who's interested in your offer will email you. Maybe Lee Hsien Loong himself might be interested.

Best wishes to you.

Magic at the Immigration Department

2006-07-25T11:14:00.000+08:00

My full name is actually Shukreen 马彬. But most people I will encounter and most official forms that I must fill up over the course of my life will not recognise those two characters. So it had to be translated into the universal roman letters. Ma Bin. But being born in Malaysia, my parents didn't want me to have a "Bin" in my name because then people will think that I'm a Malay boy, and besides, who wants to be called a bin anyway. So they settled on Pin. It was better than Bin, but I was still picked on in school. Everybody should actually just learn to read Chinese.

So that's my name - Shukreen Ma Pin. I'm really quite pleased with it. 'Shukreen' was fashioned from the Arabic word for gratitude. I was born after a four-year gap, and my parents were relieved and grateful that I came out healthy and whole. 'Ma' is my surname, my family name, and nothing in this world will ever change that. 'Pin' in Chinese means polite. I think for the most part I live up to it.

My name's been through an interesting journey. When I was 12 and my father took me to the Jabatan Pendaftaran Negara to get my IC, a series of unfortunate events resulted in a long addition to my name. It became Shukreen Ma Pin Binti Nasir Ma Lee. I didn't give it much thought then because I was 12, and my father was my hero.

Over the years, however, I came to realise how redundant the addition has become, and how tiresome it was to take almost two minutes to fill up my name in official forms. Sometimes, the forms didn't even have enough little boxes to write my name in, and I had to write outside of the boxes. I HATE writing outside of the boxes.

When I hit 21, I decided I should change my name back to what it was in my birth certificate - Shukreen Ma Pin, for the following reasons:

My surname is in there and that will suffice. I will always know who my family is and will never get lost.
I don't have to have my father's name attached to mine to know that I'm my father's daughter. I will always know that.
I couldn't stand having the 'Binti' in there. I never know where to chuck it in (foreign) official forms, and I didn't like the thought of what other people might associate with it, like, oh I don't know, special priviledges or something. Which I didn't have, growing up.

So after a series of run-arounds and second rounds of that, I finally got a MyKad that said 'Shukreen Ma Pin'.

I was so glad. Now, I just had to wait out the expiry date on my passport and renew it with my proper name, and be harrassed no more by foreign immigration officers who give me a hard time because I had to write outside of the boxes, had a 19-letter first name, a 2-letter surname, and a 'Binti' that fit nowhere.

Last Friday I went to the Immigration Department with all my documents (including the official letter from JPN acknowledging the change), took a number, read my paper for forty minutes and was attended to by a nice officer at counter number 4. She asked a few questions about why I wanted to change my name in my passport, took copies of my documents and I was done! I paid, took a receipt and skipped happily out of the immigration department.

On Tuesday I skipped happily back to the immigration department and was referred to counter 34, where another officer told me that the nice officer at counter 4 was not aware that a name change requires a separate approval process, and that I needed a declaration of oath and copies of three other documents. Then my application needs to go to Putrajaya for approval, which normally takes about two weeks.

I'm supposed to fly to Chicago in a week's time.

I got really irritated.

WHY didn't the officer know about this?! She works in the Immigration Department, doesn't she? If she worked in Burger King, I would understand, but she doesn't work in Burger King. She's an officer of the Immigration Department.
WHY do I need a separate approval process? It's in my birth certificate AND my MyKad, AND I have a letter from the JPN - that's the JABATAN PENDAFTARAN NEGARA. Centralise, people, get centralised!

"Itu JPN sayang, ini Imigresen."

...... I rest my case.

Fine. So last night I gathered all the documents they wanted, and prepared for another round of bereaucratic waltz this morning.

First a visit to the photocopy uncle for double copies of everything, then to the commissioner of oaths to solemnly declare that my name is my name, and finally back to counter 34.

I think the spirit of government departments was looking out for me today, and sent me a good luck charm. My charm and I breezed through everything, and the officer at counter 34 even smiled, apologised for the inconvenience and made small talk with me. She said she will try to speed up the approval process so i can make my trip. What a magical visit to the Immigration Department.

I'm not irritated anymore, and I forgive their little glitch, and I think there is hope yet for our government service sector.

Now it remains to be seen if Putrajaya will make a fuss over giving me back my name.

Text Book

2006-07-20T09:33:00.000+08:00

Controversial ethnic relations guidebook withdrawn

My question is, do we really need a text book for a class on ethnic relations in the first place? The Malaysian Education System has an obsession with text books. Case in point is the Kemahiran Hidup class text book. But that's another topic for another day.

Back to the text book on ethnic relations. It really isn't anything new. Remember our primary school text books with Ali, Ah Meng and Muthu? It was all about love thy neighbour, whatever colour he is, whatever religion he practices.

But that's just the text book. The messages somehow got warped in the delivery process. Children get confused when the book tells them something, and the teacher demonstrates something else. And it stays with them for life.

Even in Kindergarten, I remember being warned again and again not to step out of the compound gate, because if I did, "the Bengali will catch you!"

Do you know how terrifying that is to a five year old kid? Sikh men in turbans became my ultimate nightmare while growing up. What in the world were these adults thinking when they said things like that?

It got worse as I progressed to primary and secondary school. I had Chinese teachers who picked on me because I was Muslim, (hence, in their narrow little minds, Malay) and I also had Malay Ustazahs who didn't talk to me for the whole school year because I was Chinese.

I also know of friends who grew up with the threat drilled into their heads that they would be disowned if they ever married someone of another race or religion.

So really, whether a text book is written controversially or, as my colleague Hazel would put it, in a happy happy kanak-kanak Ribena way, how much real damage can it actually undo?

Malaysia Ole!

2006-07-19T08:51:00.000+08:00

I used to absolutely adore the Malaysian Operafest Children's Choir. As kids we would go and watch their musical stage performances of Carmen, Flower Drum Song, Merry Widow etc, and enjoy them to bits. To me, the Operafest Children's Choir was the coolest thing after blue jeans, and my greatest ambition was to join the choir and perform and travel with them. But fate had other plans and I ended up with strong lungs from swimming, and not singing.

So, I was quite excited when the office decided to hold a company outing to the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra (MPO) to watch a performance by four children's choirs, which included the Keystone State Boys' Choir from the USA, the Maoli Children's Choir from Taiwan, ViVa from Norway, and... the Malaysian Operafest Children's Choir! The performance was part of the 27th International Society for Music Education World Conference. What wonderful, inter-nation programmes we have.

So last night at 8.20pm I was seated between my colleagues in the beautiful MPO hall, on great seats, waiting for the show to start.

The American choir performed first. 50 boys in matching ties and suits, singing, dancing, clapping, stomping and having the time of their lives on stage.

Then the pianist from the Taiwanese choir took her seat and struck a chord, and an army of children in oriental costumes marched on stage. We sat through a disciplined performance of a number of folk songs, lights, bells, and a discreet costume change.

Well, the Americans were a tough act to follow. I was really looking forward to Operafest by then.

The Norwegians came on stage in uniforms a la Sound of Music. I enjoyed the solos, and the two cute Cello players.

And then, and then!! It was time for Operafest! The pianist came on stage and began to play.... the cavalry march? A troop of little people in cowboy suits pranced on stage. Very cute. The audience laughed and clapped. After the cowboys a young girl came on in a Carmen-like, spanish-flamenco, layered-fluffy, colorful costume, which she could barely manage. She was followed by another brightly coloured puffball on skinny legs, and another, and another. Oh god. Why dress them like that? The dresses were too adult, and too gaudy on the girls.

They started singing - it may have been a Spanish song, or English, I really couldn't make it out. All of them were emitting wonderful musical notes from their trained voiceboxes, but I certainly couldn't understand a word they were singing. A Chinese Matador appeared and the whole troup moved about in what I presume was a Spanish Bullfight dance. So maybe the the song is in Spanish. Why would they start off with a Spanish song and dance anyway? There were foreign guests watching, for heaven's sake.

Nevermind, wait for the next song. I hope they change costumes. The next song was Getaran Jiwa, one of my favourite. Now this was more like it. But they didn't change costumes, and sang the next two Chinese numbers also in their flashy ole ole clothes.

By the fourth song, every time they moved on stage, my eyes hurt and my head pounded. They looked like colorful, epileptic cakes.

I was so disappointed. It was different when Operafest Children's Choir performed Carmen, or West Side Story. Those were musicals, the costumes belonged and the songs were right. But this was part of an international music conference. Did we really need a Matador, who dropped his cape twice trying to do the fling-onto-shoulder stunt? Why try to be someone that you're not?

The conductor / artistic director was disappointed too. The Malaysian Operafest Children's Choir was by far the smallest group of all that performed that evening. She berated the audience at the end of the performance, saying that we were too busy playing golf and Mahjong to send our kids to join the choir. "Shame on you!" she said.

She's right, you know. I haven't got kids, but for those who do, you should consider sending them to join the Malaysian Operafest Children's Choir. Hopefully with more members in the choir, they'll remind her of their identity.

Cab Conversation

2006-07-13T08:47:00.000+08:00

I got into a cab yesterday in front of my office on Jalan Ampang, and asked the cabbie Pakcik if he could take me to Taman Desa.

He said "Ah moi, you pandai cakap BM..."

I was dealing with a massive headache and puffy eyes and was in no mood to be chatty. So I forced a smile and gave him my standard response of "Ya la, kawan Melayu ramai."

"Oh..."

Then 20 seconds later, "Boyfriend Melayu?"

I groaned inwardly, and contemplated lying to avoid further questions. I've been through this a million times. But I suck at lying - "Ya."

"He he he... oh... patut la."

The million-dollar question came after another 20 seconds "Jadi you nak masuk Islam nanti?"

Aiyo... leave me alone. I looked at him through the rear view mirror, and saw this happy, eager face waiting breathlessly. Sigh. "Saya memang Islam pun Pakcik. Saya Cina Muslim."

"Oh!!! Patut la, BM you fasih semacam!"

Don't be mean don't be mean don't be mean don't be mean don't be mean don't ask him why the Prophet couldn't speak BM.

He turned around and sized me up. I get horrified when they do that. Keep your eyes on the road damn it! "Kenapa tak pakai baju kurung?"

Forced smile. Curse the traffic jams in KL. I spent the next 40 minutes telling him about Muslims in China, my family, where I went to school, what language we speak at home, what we eat ("Yang itu makan? Yang pendek itu?")

When we finally got to Taman Desa I fished out exact change and said thank you. He gave me a toothy grin "Manisnya budak nie... Hari Jumaat nanti pakai baju kurung ya?"

Pakcik, pakcik... coming from you, I just might wear a baju kurung on Friday to make you happy. I'm glad you're not the Fatwa Council, because if such a suggestion had come from them, I would burn my beautiful collection of baju kurungs.

Buying Insurance from Uncle Sam

2006-07-07T10:24:00.000+08:00

Yesterday three insurance agents from AIG came to the office to explain our company insurance plan to us. They went through the run-of-the-mill you get this and you get that routine, and then the lead agent suddenly mentioned something that really got my attention.

"... and also, AIG being an American company, IF your beneficiary is from a US-sanctioned country, they will not be entitled to any compensation payout."

WHAT? I think I yelled a bit louder than I meant to.

"...erm... IF your beneficiary is from a country not recognised by the US, then they will not be entitled to..."

"You mean a NON US sanctioned country, then."

"...er yes, for instance, North Korea, and.."

I got quite worked up, and I know I was rude to interject, but I had to.

"So if I marry a North Korean man tomorrow and then die, he wouldn't get any compensation under my plan?"

"Actually, North Korea is OK. They've just been lifted off the list... but maybe, MAYBE, might be included in the list again," he continued to rattle on about something else, and left me contemplating this interesting bit of insurance policy fineprint.

Wah.... so if my beneficiary is someone from a country that the big US of A doesn't fancy, that someone won't get that money if something happened to me! Where would it go then? Back to the company I guess, which is an American company, which probably must pay taxes to the US government, who is busy buying bombs for the countries they don't fancy.

Sorry your wife died. Here's a one-way ticket for you to join her.

That's one brutal compensation plan.

Come on la, what is this?!! So what, all American insurance company policy holders have to make sure they don't marry someone from a non US-sanctioned country? Which are these countries anyway?

"... er.. Cuba, Iraq and Iran." My cousin has an Iranian husband. I must ask her to check her insurance policy.

"Just these three?"

"Yes. Just these three. For now."

"For NOW?! So will you be updating us when that list changes, so we know who not to marry?"

"...erm.. no, we don't...er...update you."

Oh great. So now we actually have to monitor our social lives around George Bush's "I friend you, I don't friend you" game. And more than that, I mean, what if my mother is Cuban (she's not, but what if)?

It seems to me like a blatant American attempt to stop the global melting pot from melting further.

Well, sorry, Uncle Sam. If I do end up marrying Fidel Castro's grandson, I will switch insurance companies.

Angkor Wat: Meeting of Differences

2006-07-05T18:32:00.000+08:00

We visited Cambodia end of March, and I found an unexpected experience at Angkor Wat.

We had found a great spot to catch the sunset at the majestic Angkor Wat.

As we settled down on the hot, ancient surface of the temple, the young blonde guy already sitting there struck up a conversation. He asked where we were from. I said: "Malaysia. And you?" He grinned and said, "Well, now I'm afraid of telling you." Another grin. "Israel. I'm not allowed into your country."

I laughed and said, "I'm not allowed into your country either, though I'd love to see it."

"Tell me about it! I heard that Malaysia is a beautiful country.

"We have great islands."

"OK, stop making me jealous."

I laughed and told him we could send him postcards, and he laughed too.

As we waited for the sun to set, we probed each other cautiously to see what / who we were dealing with. He knew nothing much about us, except that we used to have a prime minister that hated Israel. That led to a short discussion about the Palestinian issue. He thinks that they should be given their own country. That took me by surprise, and I realised how little I knew, or cared about his country too.

Soon we were filling each other in on the countries that probably neither of us will ever live to see. The politics, the economy, the people, the culture. It was a wonderful conversation.

The sun set at Angkor Wat. It wasn't as exquisite as I expected, because the sky was cloudy. There was a brief streak of silver and golden light, and then the sun plunged into the clouds.

For these two conversationlist, whose respective country name is printed in the other's passport in red, the conversation also exposed a streak of light, shining bright and clear. Then we said goodbye and the world around us once again plunged into cloudiness.

Melayu ke Cina?

2006-07-03T15:44:00.000+08:00

Another one to kickstart this blog, since I'm on the subject. I wrote this back in February this year.

One evening after the first days of Chinese New Year, my boyfriend Izhan and I were standing on the curb just outside Bangsar Village, debating about something unimportant while he finished a cigarette.

As we chatted, I noticed a father and son walking slowly toward us. The boy was leaning against his father. He looked sick and was finding it difficult to walk. As they moved closer I saw that the father was holding a clump of blood-soaked tissue paper. They stopped at the curb where we were standing and the boy rested against a streetlight, his chest heaving up and down. They were close enough for us to hear what they were saying. The father held up the tissue to the boy’s mouth and asked him if he needed to cough again. They were Malay.

I nudged Izhan. It was obvious they needed help. He took a step closer and asked the man, “Kenapa nie, bang?”

The man looked up at my very Melayu boyfriend, then looked at very Chinese me. The streetlight was dim, and he probably got confused. He answered Izhan's question with “You nie Melayu ke Cina?”

Izhan, with his first-hand understanding of the Male Melayu specimen, probably knew instinctively that he needed to get that problem out of the way first.

“Saya Melayu,” he confirmed, but didn’t bother to explain what I was. Then he asked again, “Kenapa dengan anak abang?”

We learnt that the boy was asthmatic. They had been taking a walk when he was hit by a sudden asthma attack, but his inhaler had only one puff left. Then his nose began to bleed. Panicking, the father went to the nearest ATM machine to withdraw some cash so he could buy an emergency inhaler at the nearest clinic. In his frantic haste, he keyed in his pin code wrongly and the machine swallowed his card. They were now on their way back to his car, parked at Lucky Garden, so that he could get to a friend’s place for some cash and go to a clinic.

The boy was wheezing.

We asked if we could help, but he declined. His car was nearby, he said.

We moved aside as they passed by, and watched them as they continued painfully slowly down the pavement. The boy was coughing softly and almost doubled over. Lucky Garden was still a good 200 meters away.

I really didn’t think that they could spare the time to go to a friend’s house. I took out RM50 from my purse and asked Izhan to give it to them.

I watched as he ran after them. They talked, I saw the man declining to take the money, then reluctantly reached out for it. Just as he put it in his shirt pocket, the boy began to faint, falling backwards almost in slow motion. Izhan reached out to grab him and sat him down on the pavement. He shot me a look and I ran towards them. There really was no need to decide what to do next. As he went to get the car, I tried to help the boy with what poor first aid knowledge that I had.

The father was really distressed now, trying to calm his son down but getting worked up himself.

When Izhan arrived with the car, we helped them in the backseat and drove three minutes to the nearest 24-hour clinic on Jalan Bangsar. In those three minutes, the father rambled on aimlessly. He said thank you over and over again. He said he gave in to our help because his son’s life was at stake. He said to his son how good it was that strangers were willing to help. Then he said, “Sorry la, I ingat you Cina tadi.”

I really didn’t know what to say. Would it have made a difference? I wanted to say something, let him know that yes, I am Chinese, and what about it?! But it simply wasn't a good time for confrontation.

We pulled up at the clinic and helped them inside. As the boy was being treated, the father signed in at the counter for the medication. We asked if RM50 was enough, he said it was. Then he shook hands with Izhan, smiled at me, and wiped tears from his eyes. He said Allah will bless us.

We left them at the clinic and went back to Bangsar. We were both quiet, contemplating the incident. Then Izhan said, “I’ll split that 50 ringgit with you.”

I said he didn't have to. I got it as Ang Pow from my godmother just a couple of days ago.

I hope the man won’t mind that I gave him my Ang Pow money to help his son. If he knew, would he?

I looked at Izhan and told him that he's a good man.

I’m sure that man thinks so, too. But I wonder, would he have thought differently of Izhan, if either one of them was Cina, and not Melayu?

Letter to NST

2006-07-03T15:04:00.000+08:00

A letter sent to the NST last week, because I have the locus standi to say something.

Dear Editor,

The Sunday Interview on June 18 (New Sunday Times) left me quite breathless, with laughter and frustration.

The National Fatwa Council has decided that “Muslims cannot conspire to join in the celebration of the festivals of other religions,” including Chinese New Year.

I’m sorry, but to me that sounds like telling someone on a new diet “you must stop eating all kinds of meat, including cucumbers.”

With all due respect, the National Fatwa Council’s ‘collective decision’ was made totally out of context. Cucumber is not a type of meat. Really, it’s not. And as Professor Shamsul Amri Baharuddin pointed out, Chinese New Year is not a religious event.

It is frustrating that some Malaysians, even those who are learned and wise, have difficulty telling the difference between race, culture and religion. This is a ironic for the people of a country that insists on being known as multiracial, multicultural and multi-religious.

I’ve always maintained that I am a Malaysian, period. But perhaps for the purpose of this article I may have to break down that definition. I am a Malaysian-born Chinese, and I am Muslim. My parents were born as Chinese Muslims. Our ancestors are from a community of almost 50 million Chinese Muslims in China.

My grandfathers sported Muslim headwear and preached Islam, and my grandmothers wore Cheongsams all their lives. My siblings and I were brought up to recite Bismillah before every meal and to hold chopsticks in a respectful manner. We were taught to read the Quran and to speak in Mandarin at home, and we grew up celebrating Hari Raya and Chinese New Year, every year.

Next year, however, we shall celebrate Chinese New Year at the risk of eroding our Aqidah (faith), as suggested by the Ulama who was interviewed that Sunday. Never mind that we will start the day with our Subuh prayers and serve Chinese Muslim food (yes, 100% Halal) to our friends, and never mind the fact that our Muslim ancestors from China have done so for generations, as they welcomed the Spring season and the start of a brand new year.

The Ulama also mentioned that it is wrong for Muslims to give Ang Pow to children during Chinese New Year. My poor parents. They’ve been giving Ang Pow to us kids every year, and also to the maid and to the garbage truck uncles, spurred by the simplistic belief that they were merely sharing good fortune. Now my siblings and I must fervently pray for forgiveness on their behalf.

Honestly now, how much of our cultural identity does the National Fatwa Council expect us to give up in order to be good Muslims?

I believe I do not speak for my family only. We have countless friends who are of Chinese-Malay parentage, or who have a Chinese or Malay spouse. Muslim practice and Chinese culture are part of their identity too.

Please, it is time to stop boxing Malaysians into neat little categories. And it is time for people who want to speak up for Islam to first consider whether they are speaking for all Muslims.