Disordered world

Anisah, 01:15, +8GMT

This week, I had a conversation with someone.  It went pretty much like this:

I think I have obsessive compulsive disorder.

Do you arrange all your toothbrushes?

I still straighten all my towels.

Do you straighten the bedsheet to perfection?

I use to.  I don't have time now.  But I still order my thoughts and essays.

That night, just as I was about to fall asleep, a thought struck me.  I used to be like that.  In the world of a six-year old, obsessive compulsive disorder was not a concept yet.  I used to arrange my lego blocks, well not Lego^TMbut the lookalikes, by colours and size.  Then I built a hut out of the blocks, each layer arranged by colour.  I used to say hello and goodbye to every furniture in the house(!), not missing a single chair or footstool(!) each time I visit my dad during school holidays.  I have also arranged coloured pencils by length, books by standing height, and shoes on the rack.  Then as primary and secondary schools brought more homework, more co-curricular activities, I just unconsciously stopped all that. 

A week ago, I had a panic attack.  I couldn't walk a straight path from my office door to my desk because students' assignments were piled on the floor.  It was bedlam.  It took me a good two hours to clear the floor area.  I'm sure primary and secondary schools did a lot of good to me, including getting rid of what might have been an obsessive compulsive disorder.  But in the progression (or regression?), I ended up such a disordered person.  They say, the proof of the pudding is in the eating.  I have told a few friends on several occassions, "I couldn't clean up (yet) because my project is still ongoing.  In the disorder, I can locate where each item is.  If I were to tidy things up, I wouldn't be able to find anything."

For three days now, I've been straightening my towel on the rack!  I want order, but hopefully, I won't feel the compulsion to arrange my wardrobe by type, length, and colour.  But come to think of it, I do hang my dresses with neck opening all in the same direction, for as long as I could remember.  Which is it: old habits die hard? or, there is light at the end of the tunnel?

Anwar vs Ahmad

 00:17, +8GMT

I have just watched the live debate between Anwar Ibrahim and Ahmad Sabbery Chik.  The former is the de facto 'opposition leader' and the latter is the Information Minister.  

In a debate, the jury must decide one side who is more persuasive, with more empirical facts, with more defensible theoretical argument, and if all else fails, the less worse between the two sides.  

As a reputably good orator (note good orator; this is not a pronouncement of good politician), I expected more from Anwar.  As the Information Minister who was reported to have told the Prime Minister that a new Information Minister should he 'failed', he might have just shot himself on the foot.   

A jury in a debate cannot give a draw.  Therefore my vote, as a juror in this debate, had to go to Anwar.  

Monsoon of 2008

Anisah

17 June 2008, 23:43, +8 GMT 

How do you know if someone's yours?
I don't. 

How do you know if someone's for you?
I'd be blessed if I do.

How do you know?
I don't.
You tell me.  

There's too much work, and too little sleep.  Now, there's the oily business of high oil and food prices.  Add a few oily colleagues to the equation and you get quite a greasy situation!

One friend sent me an email full of statistics showing why Malaysians should not have to pay so much for our petrol because profits from the national oil company, PETRONAS is enough to cover their exploration and expansion needs as well as domestic fuel consumption at the prevailing price before an 80 sen increase from RM1.90/litre to the current RM2.70/litre.  I would give that email more thought if our politicians from both part of the divide provided statistics for debate rather than the government justifying the need for development and the opposition challenging an un-endorsed set of numbers.

Newspapers in Malaysia reported a staggering number of advice from various government politicians on the need for the public to prefer public transport.  One report even lamented commented about Malaysians dismal use of public transport to Europeans.  What that report failed to show was the frequency of bus/train trips per route, and number of routes served per locality.  Perhaps with both sets of data in the same report, things will finally even up.  I live 5 kilometres from my work place.  To use public transport, I would have to change buses four times, taking a total of five different buses!  It would have taken me about an hour to leg it all the way - except that a woman was kidnapped and raped on part of the same route about two months ago.  Do I have a choice?  Unfortunately yes, pay RM71 to fill up my fuel efficient car, and try my best to achieve a constant speed of 60km/h to achieve better fuel usage and lower emmissions.  I already live in a non-air-conditioned house, and don't iron all my clothes, eat rice once a day, with amount of rice per meal set at about 50 - 80 grams.  I cannot think of anymore substantial ways to change my lifestyle to pay less.

In this, I'm very much reminded of how my mom used to cope.  Dad lived in another state due to the nature of his work.  We lived with mom in a different state to attend better schools.  Still, the schools, an all-girl Convent for me, and an all-boy school for my brother.  Both are a stone's throw from one another, but both are about 7 km from home.  That meant school buses were out of the question.  Even if there were school buses willing to take us, we would leave for school two hours before school, arrive late for classes, and arrive home three hours after school!  A school closer to home would solve our commuting problem, but it was a Chinese vernacular school and it was decided that my brother and I would get an English-Malay education.  Our neighbours thought we were odd: 'single-mother' family, who looked Chinese but shunned Chinese education, never gave our house a lick of paint in twenty years, and built our own pavements.  The latter two because paint and labour were beyond our means.  

To make the money go further, mom packed lunch, drove us to school in the morning, I attended morning school, my brother did his homework in the school grounds until it was time for his afternoon school, and then I had my lunch and did my homework while waiting for my brother's class to finish, and then we'll go home in the evening.  Schools back then had to operate in morning and afternoon sessions because they weren't enough school buildings at that time.  All the while mom will sit with the child not attending class either in the car, with the doors flung open for ventilation, or in the canteen.  Extra after-class tuition was provided by mom.  So all in all mom made two trips to school, rather than six trips if she had gone back and forth.  It was not a comfortable arrangement, but she ensured we had a good education, and there was food on the table everyday.  Had she prefered the comforts of home, my brother and I would not have that many hours to do our homework or we would have gone hungry.  Our mother sacrificed so much!  

Today as I try to live frugally, those memories become even more vivid.  It is heartening to know that she could now sit back and not worry about money anymore.   She watches Wah Lai Thoi on ASTRO most of the time, enjoys the occasional eating out with dad.  And, most heartening, she tells me, 'I love you' at the end of every telephone conversation whenver I call her.  

(to be continued...) 

Yellow card for fly alone women!

Kota Kinabalu, 4 May 2008, 22:36 (+8 GMT) 

Regressive. Unfair. Bias.

These are the words published on page 4 of the New Straits Times of 4th May 2008.  The paper was reporting on a Malaysian Foreign Ministry newly proposed move to require women travelling out of the country alone to have a letter from parents or employers.  Why?  This is supposedly to be able to stop Malaysian women from being duped into carrying drugs for international syndicates.  Statistics showed that to date 119 Malaysian women are in various stages of prosecution or serving time, or awaiting time for capital punishment for drug trafficking abroad.  

Outrageous! for four reasons:

1.  that convicted drug traffickers should be given capital punishment.  Studies show that capital punishment for traffickers do not stop trafficking or deter cartels from duping people to become traffickers.  

2.   that Malaysia should react to its citizens receiving capital punishment for drug trafficking overseas when the country has the same mandatory punishment for convicted traffickers.

3.  that free-born Malaysian women cannot travel on equal terms with free-born Malaysian men.   

4.  that women who wish to carry drugs can dupe their parents or employers to provide such letters. 

Can the government assure us that this is the opinion of the Foreign Minister together with the Home Minister and not the opinion of the Cabinet?  

 Even if there are the same number of men, or less men who were duped as drug carriers, the logic of this proposal is sitll outrageous.  Free citizens, be they men or women, who have not been convicted of any crimes, or not awaiting trial should not have additional conditions imposed on them just because they are more likely to be duped if they were to travel alone.  

The proposal might render single females above 18 years who have lost both parents, and who are unemployed or self-employed, inelligble to travel alone!   

Please can good sense, equality and fairness prevail?  Otherwise, the following might sound sane and possibly be carried out!

1.  that women must not drive because they might be duped to carry an illegal object in their cars!

2.  that women must not possess their own passport so that they could not travel alone.  Their particulars must be in the passport of fathers, husbands.  Without either, then with employers.  Without that, with a guardian appointed by the Home Ministry!

3.  that women must not step out of their houses alone.  They must be accompanied by either father / husband / employer / or call the police station for an escort because they are more likely to be raped than men are likely to be sodomised!

 The scarry thing is, there are a sizeable number minority of Malaysians who find that the above ludicrous suggestions to be very good indeed, and no sarcasm is meant in this sentence!  Why, because the most educated of people can be ignorant of civil society.  This is especially so when civil society activities are not actively lived up to, or not enthusiastically encouraged by agents of the state.  The state might want to view itself as the good-intending Big Brother, and that should send chills down spines.  If it does not, I fear for the end. 

 Postscript

Thank goodness, the proposal has since been shot down. 

Cloudy skies

By Anisah

Sunday, 24 February 2008

 I have not written for almost two months.  I don’t have time to write.  I spent slightly over two weeks on holiday with my family.  We didn’t do anything extraordinary.  We didn’t pack our bags and went somewhere far (or near), we just stayed at home, ate home cooked food, had the occasional eating out, watched TV, talked politics with my dad, read newspapers, read novels, etc.  In short, we did all the ‘everyday things’.  It is a luxury.  In our busy lives, we get so consumed with work, catching deadlines, planning the next project, so much so that the ordinary things about living get left out.   

I was therefore quite annoyed when I was asked to submit a project for a deadline right after I returned from holiday.  It was the Lunar New Year.  I know that less than 20 per cent of people in my work place celebrate it.  But please, can we have some compassion and a little understanding?  This annoyance is compounded by the fact that the project will only be of use in two months’ time!   The dust has since settled.  Everyone has been kept happy.   

If you are reading this and you are in a position to be a little bit more compassionate, to make someone’s family life a little bit more meaningful, to reduce the stress of your subordinates, please do.   

The sky outside has been cloudy since I woke up.  It hasn’t poured yet.  No, just as I type this, the ground is beginning to get wet.  The hills become more distant.  The smell of an afternoon shower begins to fill the air.  As a little girl, I love such afternoons.  Back then, I would have either curled up and gone to bed (!) or tucked my legs under me and began to read.  I found this environment most conducive for either activity.    

Old habits die hard.  With the peak of the hills blending with the gray sky, I yearn for my blanket.  Having found none in my office, I begin to type this page.  My work has been temporarily cast aside.  This is a Sunday, and I’m working.  How nice if it was, for a fraction of a second, I could be a little girl once more, with the freedom to curl up into a carefree world.  I am thus grateful for that memory, for how many other little girls would have gotten soaked to the bone on such a day, and with no books to read.  If you are reading this, and drawing up your wedding list, why don’t you suggest that your gifts should be made out to charities supporting girls going to school? 

Right to health

By Anisah
25 December 2007 

Can you imagine how many grains of sand on earth? Then imagine that there are more stars in the universe than there are grains of sand on earth.  We are then, but a tiny speck.  So then why the pomp insisted upon by certain individuals who are honoured by society with honorifics?  The more one comes into contact with such airs, the more stuffy the air. 

I spent five years away from my family.  I have never felt home sick.  We talked on the phone almost every week.  Now, I'm still living away from home.  I still do not feel home sick.  Love is not about proximity all the time.  Love is about being there in mind and spirit, over and above physical presence.  I do not avoid going home.  I enjoy our little family gatherings.  They are priceless.  But, I don't see the point of paying £800 annually, or bi-annually, burning all that amount of fossil fuel for a physical presence.   And my parents don't see the point of doing that either. 

At the same time, I could see my father age.  The weight of losing his father and his recent health scare have taken a toll on him.  We worry for him.  He worries for us.   We worry about health costs when we all retire.  The state here does not guarantee National Health Service, free at point of use for everyone.  The Health Minister advised those who could afford it to go private, thereby freeing up resources for those who could not afford to go private.  At the same time, there is still the security blanket of being able to get medical attention in a public-funded hospital for emergency and dire cases.  The question is, do we have the heart to wait until a chronic condition becomes accutely dire to get that promise of free medical attention?  Another question is, how does one define ability to afford? There are definitely families who are less able than our family.  But lets be honest, ours is not a family that could afford say, multiple heart bypass surgery privately.  We also could just about afford health insurance for people over retirement age.  But that would mean no pensions investments whilst maintaining the health insurance!

Whilst we deliberate on all that, we are told with quite a bit of pomp, that Malaysians are a caring lot.  Our eyes and ears (and hearts) are directed towards the amount of cash that newspapers and political parties could help raise for individuals in need of life-saving surgeries.  The dilemma is why is there a need for such monies to be raised?  Should it not be provided for free by the taxman?  I fear that as we celebrate individual charity, we might be mourning the passing of a way of societal adminstration that is more responsible.  I am very afraid that we unconsciously lose our humanity, and buying into the idea that some creatures are more equal than others! 

National Christmas Open House

Anisah
25 December 2007

I drove through a very uncongested city this morning.  It was a trip I had to make.  My computer was infected by rootkits.  Horrible things they are.  They are like the HIV of computers; incurable.  So today I had to part with a wad of cash in exchange for a new hard drive.  What a holiday!  Needless to say, the next four hours were spent in one of the more unpleasant task of reinstalling an operating system et al. 

It was whilst driving past the main city square that I saw a huge sign announcing that the National Christmas Open House will be held there on the 29th, in a few days time.  I shall try to post some photos if I get any.  One of my camera is still with the shop for repairs; it has been there for the past four months! 

Here's a Merry Christmas to my Christian cousins, aunts and uncles and friends, and to all my friends who observe Christmas as a cultural event. 

And a Happy Birthday to a brother who was born on Boxing Day

Sacrifice!

By Anisah

20.12.2007

On the way home, I had the radio switched on to drown out the sound of silence.  The sound of the engine, although an inevitable by-product of vehicle propulsion, was not a soothing alternative.  In the spirit of Eid al-Adha, the radio periodically puts on the takbir.  It was mesmerising to follow the takbir. 

The radio talk show hosts were inviting people to call them to share their stories of sacrifices during this period and their experience of the Hajj.  At the Centre, in Mecca, everything else is put aside.  Everyone with faith, coming in love. 

A few callers called to wish their family and friends a Happy Eid.  A few others spoke about cooking their share of the Qurban.  One school girl spoke about her sacrifice of not going home to be with her family because she wants to study.  Each with their own sacrifices. 

Perhaps we should also think of what more we could do for our brethren in faith and our brethren in humanity, in the name of faith. 

I reached my destination in slightly under two hours.  The smiles, hugs and salams were rejuvenating. 

21.12.2007

I read in a good friend’s blog:  “Let’s keep walking the walk, regardless of what shoes they give us.”  The last phrase is written with the tacit implication of the kind of shoes we’re wearing. 

I agree with the nobility of that ideal.  However I recognise my frailty.  I replied to that sentiment: “I’m just too tired to walk.  Certain paths, and certain times are super lonely.”  One could tell oneself, that whatever hardships, all is done for a nobler cause.  At least all hardships ‘suffered’ in the name of altruism. 

Even so, I have felt I’ve walked uphill, and upon arrival at the gate, I feel utterly hopeless to lift the latch to open the gate.  Despair.  Reaching out to lift the latch is easy compared to the uphill track.  A feeling of utter hopelessness.  I couldn’t, or I wouldn’t (?) reach out my hand.  Why?  I don’t know.  Perhaps I want, once in a while, for another to open the door?  Perhaps I’m really exhausted.  Perhaps I’m weary of being expected to give, and give, and give, and receiving none, no acknowledgement, nothing. 

Such feeling of being so alone.  The Prophet turned to Him, to Him we come from, and to Him we return to.  During Eid al-Adha, one remembers that no matter how lonely we feel, none can surpass the feelings of Abraham and Ishmael before the sacrifice, or Hagar and Ishmael when left in the dessert.  Abraham and Ishmael believed with total conviction.  Hagar running between two hills searching for water is immortalised as a rite of Hajj.  Their solace was faith.  It still is.  It has always been. 

Everyday, we try to be a better person.  Never forget that.  It’s a prayer, a song, love, hope.  Finding it is a gift.  Retaining it is … I could not find a word to do justice to that. 

Eid Mubarak, Happy Feast. 

Breaks

By Anisah

20.12.2007

Eid Mubarak.  Two articles ago it was Eid al-Fitr.  And now it’s Eid al-Adha.  I managed to write once, on accompanying my grandfather on his last journey in this world. 

In between, I found myself working, on one thing to another.  Bosses here thrive on giving last minute datelines.  There are things that I would have liked to write.  Let’s put them away for the time being.  I am just too tired.  I need a break. 

I’m driving to one of the several places I call home.  A small flat atop shops which belong to one charming family.  I’m so looking forward to a day and a half of doing nothing!  Sipping hot cups of coffee, but not before dunking bread into the coffee, chatting, catching up.  The conversation picks up from where we last left it when we last gathered. 

The drive itself takes one through countless turns into the highlands.  Cool mountain breeze, sometimes misty, occasionally the air will be made acrid by the synthetic smell of drum brakes of lorries struggling uphill.  Then reality hits when one sees small huts, signs of poverty tucked amongst signs of extravagance.  On certain stretches, the only access road is littered with potholes, tarmac totally absent.  At the same time, in another part of the country, people complain about rising motorway toll prices.  Here, the only access roads are ‘free’ but minus the creature comforts!  The complaints are equally vociferous here as they are in that other part, just the grouses are different. 

All the same, I look forward to my little break, to get back some life, to another gathering of people who care.  Never mind the monotony of driving alone, but a little company would be nice.  I’m exhausted.  I want to escape, even if it would be a 36 hour reprieve.