Vision 2020 achieved

This is getting ridiculous.

Happened to read this on Elizabeth Wong's blogsite and it just made me snap.

“Santa must have had trouble getting to this part of the world, since it was only today he came a-calling at Sapura with a surveillance contract worth RM 1 billion.

Bernama’s Tengku Noor Shamsiah Tengku Abdullah reported late this afternoon on the likelihood of Sapura securing a Federal government contract to supply 3,000 cameras in major cities in the Peninsular, in anticipation of Visit Malaysia Year 2007, as well as for ‘security’.”

Work that out: You have a RM1 billion contract for 3,000 cameras. That's RM333,333 per camera installed. Sure, you need command posts and monitors etc to run the equipment, but c'mon guys, that's a freakin' semi-d for a camera. And is there a toll concessionaire-type contract after the fact to maintain it over the years?

Elizabeth also reveals in that same post that Sapura had earlier won a RM500 million contract to supply 3,000 field radios to the armed forces. That's RM166,666 per radio set.

We have 23 self-cleaning toilets installed throughout KL for a contract of RM9.2 million. That's RM400,000 a toilet.

Outrageous. Vision 2020 has been achieved 14 years early.

We must be a rich country, among the most developed in the world, to acquire these fancy machines at such prices. Correction...among the delusional in the world. This country has yet to reach its more basic targets - boats during floods, grade A infrastructure, 0% poverty, 100% literacy, the best universities and libaries, a well-paid and well-oiled civil service, a transportation system that works, a caring society - before it thinks fancy-shmancy.

Instead money being spent by this govt to acquire hi-tech products and services which are over-specified is reaching epic proportions.

It appears as pithy news for a day – 5 paragraphs max? – and the whole thing blows quietly away. No facts and figures breakdown, no tender, no dialogue, no explanations. Perhaps a titanium handshake to signify a bloated contract between devils.

In a culture bleeding with the liberal use of the Official Secrets Act, these conniving bastards have virtually a blank check to fatten their wallets. It is a closed loop; you and I are irrelevant in the scheme of things. You and I can gripe, but they’ll plain ignore. You and I are mere subordinates... peasant-folk in a feudal system cloaked as a democracy.

AAB may have crooned the sweetest promises of accountability and transparency in the 2004 elections, but he has failed miserably. If anything, as Prime Minister – a very powerful but increasingly-despised position – Sleepy Hollow is at the very least guilty of abetting this crippling culture.

What does one do with rot? Answer: You remove it.

Thank you, Singapore

How pitiful can the media get?

Bernama, The Star, and NST went to town in their coverage of the floods in the south. Good mileage was given to the various aid coming in from the govt, private sector and NGOs. The top two leaders were photographed carrying babies in different parts of the affected areas. The operations room in Pan Pacific Hotel, JB has a royalty manning the hotlines.

Cool.

What's not cool is this:
Two teams from jiran Singapore are now in Malaysia doing their bit in providing aid. The six-member Singapore Red Cross brought in S$10,000 worth of food and relief items, while a convoy of volunteers from Mercy Relief towed over hygiene kits and water filter equipment worth S$34,000 to Mercy Malaysia's relief centre in Muar.

These volunteers will skip Christmas with their island friends and families for one of sweat and hardship among strangers who will surely be warm friends. They will be in Malaysia for about a week.

Said a Singapore Red Cross spokesman Lim Thean Poh: "This is the time to demonstrate our friendship. What happens thereafter depends on whether they still need our assistance. If so, we will do whatever we can within the resources we've got here. But I am sure this is not the first and last of everything. In fact, it is a long journey in our bilateral relationship with the Malaysian Red Crescent Johor Baru branch."


Not a single mention was reported in the Malaysian press about this - the nation's voice.


Are we that stuck-up that we can't even voice a grateful thank you?

Tsk, tsk, tsk... Masa banjir pun nak main politik. Kena jaga muka kot. Begitu penting ke?

Acting before God Acts

It hurts to see the devastation of the floods in the southern peninsular. The rain, when too much of a beautiful thing, has a price. It was, no doubt, an Act of God for the most part.

For the most part.

Still, hard questions need to be asked and reference points sought to understand the nature - or nurture - of this aqueous beast. The hardest question is perhaps "Did we ask for it?"

In our country, heavy rains fell in Johor, Melaka, Pahang and Negeri Sembilan. Of the 31 monitoring stations in Johor, the highest was recorded in Johor Baru, which recorded 289mm of rainfall in a 24-hour period on Tuesday (Dec19).


JB sits sister-adjacent to Singapore, divided by the Tebrau Straits. Because of its geographic proximity, it's certain the rains fell hard there too. Very hard actually. It recorded the third highest rainfall in 75 years - being pummelled by 366mm of rain in the same 24-hour period. That's 3 inches more than JB's recording.

There were massive traffice jams, a landslide and fallen trees. There was chest-high flooding at a lower-level strip of nurseries at Thompson Rd nearby MacRitichie Reservoir.

At the end of the day, the hard fact is this - civilian casualties: Zero. Not a single person was evacuated even though Singapore has its share of landed property, subterranean MRT lines, and basement carparks. The drains channeled the water out safely. Electricity supply continued uninterupted, ditto water supply. Car owners moaned about repair bills, nursery owners were hit by lost business, but all in, it was a very uncomfortable, very wet few days. And that was that.

On our side of the Causeway, the number of displaced inhabitants has now passed 80,000 individuals. Seven lives have been lost; seven lives too many.

True, it was an Act of God. But some things cause pause for ponder. When two scenarios are examined side by side given similar conditions, lessons bubble to the surface.


Consider this: Segamat is an inland town, about 50km from the Straits of Melaka, and averages about 60 feet above sea level. The Sungai Segamat runs through the town on its meandering way to Muar. It runs down an incline. There isn't a reservoir upstream which could have overflowed. And yet, it was the worst-hit town. What really caused the floods? A beaver dam?

Even more curious: What magic spell protected the more exposed and water-ringed Singapore from being wreaked by the very same rains? Was it fengshui? Vashtu sastra? A Temasik bomoh?

Or was it just plain foresight, planning and implementation? That every tax-payer's dollar spent, be it drainage, transportation lines or schools must count and be put to optimum effect? In short, integrity counts. And having the right people doing the right job.

Singapore knew God would act and worked at it.

Did we?


Photo credits:
JB flood: NST
Singapore flood: Channel News Asia
Segamat satelite image: Google Earth

Inspiring quotes to end the year

"As information minister, I am part of history - I have seen it and understood it - thus I cannot have made a mistake or misunderstood history."

"As for me, only those who feel they are communists would be offended by what I had said."

- Zam
on insisting that a communist monument had been erected in Nilai Memorial Park and in Sarawak. Negeri Sembilan MB Mohamad Hasan has joined in the call. He's asking the privately-owned cemetery to demolish the monument. It is a monument commemorating those who fought against the Japanese invasion during WW II.

How does being "information minister" fuse with "part of history"?

How do you teach idiots logic?



My favourite yet for this week:


"I was in Turkey but did not see the boat."

- Sleepy Hollow,
on insisting that Turkish newspaper, Hurriyet, had printed lies about his stopover there with one Ananda Krishnan. PM AAB was enroute to Venezuela. Apparently they went fishing at Gokova, where AAB gushed about the beauty of the Aegean Sea. But the report's highlight was that Sleepy Hollow came by to see his boat which he ordered four months ago. It had a reported price tag of US$8 mil.

He's a forgiving man though. Despite his name and high office smeared back home because of this report, he's asking for only a correction to be carried.

There's still 10 days to the end of the year. Shall we get to hear more motivational lines?

Samy's heart of gold

Busy, purpose-driven week for Samy Vellu. In a life set by the throbbing beat of the tabla, he showed he fights for you and me, and just as much, the Indian community.

Just barely a day before he announced the Great Benevolent Toll Hikes, Samy was in the estates of Jasin announcing a plan to ensure Tamil schools were not neglected.

Who knows, months earlier, he must have strapped his bronze breastplate and made his case to the Cabinet. Ever the fighter, perhaps he thumped hard on the table, perhaps he eyeballed a kerised Hishamuddin and never blinked, perhaps he made them shudder simply with cold, hard facts about the plight of his people.

In any case, he won. MIC's Arjuna won. As he won for us a kind and soft toll increase. ("The cheapest toll in the world is in Malaysia.")

And so for Indian Malaysians there is cause for celebration; 34 vessels of knowledge located in seven states will be awarded a total of RM489,000 – for which to get “a new building or have existing structures repaired”.

The Star reports:

The schools involved are one in Selangor which received RM10,000, six in Johor (RM55,000), two in Penang (RM50,000), 11 in Pahang (RM95,000), four in Negri Sembilan (RM85,000), one in Malacca (RM10,000) and nine in Kedah (RM184,000).

Look closer now.

That's RM489 thousand. In a time when just about every government project/initiative mentioned carries the million – if not billion – ringgit tag, here we have paltry thousands. And to be shared among 34 schools. Heart of gold.

Just a sampling: The KL ferriswheel is going to cost RM30 mil. That crazy Melaka tower RM21 mil. The Tanjong Tokong development is slated to cost RM750 mil and give-me-time PM AAB is suddenly anxious and wants it fast-tracked. Mr Sleepy-Hollow also gave away ringgit hampers to the tune of RM600 mil to Umno constituencies.

As for the Tamil schools, do the math. That's an average of RM14,832 per school. Those 11 Tamil-medium schools in Pahang will share RM95,000, or about RM8,636 for each school. The man who claims to have tamed the toll concessionaires now gives the same love to his people. Not.

Samy-ji, you can't even do a paint job with that kind of money. You can't quite fix the drains or the sewer lines. You sure as hell can't fix respect.

See, Tamil-medium schools are mostly located in the plantations where under the banners of Golden Hope, Sime Darby and Guthrie, Indian estate settlements have existed virtually unchanged for decades. Their dwellings may be seasoned and charming, but in the nights their monsoon dreams are washed in paraquat.

Perhaps it is these families who earn RM400 a month, whose womenfolk are tasked to spray hazardous pesticides with only a soiled hanky over their mouth deserve only this much?

And how much is much? To look at it from another perspective: RM489,000 amounts to 305,625 cars (excludes lorries, buses, cabs) passing through the LDP under the new tax plan. With four different toll plazas in its 40km stretch, that's 76,406 cars per plaza. Let's dare venture – that's perhaps two days' takings tops?

Heart of gold, Samy. And they say, a Barisan Nasional alliance ensures all races are represented. They say it is through this integration is achieved.

I say it cleaves.

Quote No. 2

Hey ugly, your Ma and your Pa are frigging full-moon howling lunatics. They are beasts, they oughta be whipped and locked up.

And guess what, you boys don't get true love. Just you watch. Leroy gets all the breaks, Jim-boy here gets hand-me-downs on his knees.

And guess what, your good-fer-nuthin folks now wanna set their values on us, too. Those crazies wanna see us dumped.

Those lines might get you pissed, wouldn't it? Especially if it wasn't true. But hang on – which line would get you most mad? The stinging ones about Ma and Pa? Or of you and Leroy.

For me, that's easy: the former, of course. Nobody talks trash about my folks... I will get mad. Leroy and I are small matter in this scenario.

Now the tricky part. What if – just what if – there was truth to the remarks? How would you react? How would Ma and Pa? How would Leroy?

*****

In many ways, the same approach can be made with Singapore Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew's comments at a recent IMF-World Bank forum at the sidelines. The senior statesman's remarks created a storm in the region.

But stemming from what? Because he dissed Malaysia or because we're reacting to an exposed raw nerve?

The issue revolves around three published quotes by LKY:

Quote No. 1: “We need a government that will have the gumption and skill to say 'no' to our neighbours in a very quiet and polite way that doesn't provoke them into doing something silly.”

Quote No. 2: "Our neighbours both have problems with their Chinese. They are successful. They are hard-working and therefore they are systemically marginalised, even in education.”

Quote No. 3: “And they want Singapore, to put it simply, to be like their Chinese – compliant.”

Depending on the degree of factuality, each was critical of the governments of Malaysia and Indonesia.

It is interesting to note which aspect struck the rawest nerve. As in action, reaction also speaks louder than words.

I find it curious Quote No.1 didn't even cause an eyelid to bat among our leaders. If I were boss of this country, and doing my damnest to do the right thing, I'd be regally pissed. If anything, it was downright condescending. It betrayed LKY's personal impression that Singapore's neighbours – us – are an edgy people prone to doing “something silly”. That we need to be treated with kids gloves. That's an insult to my proud nation. But hey, it went clean by.

Quote No. 3 claims that Malaysia and Indonesia would much prefer that the lion be taken from the Lion City. That's a strong accusation, if you ask me. It infers that we harbour ill motives against Singapore and want to see it subjugated and in servitude of us. If that too was trash talk, I'd haul in the high commissioner immediately for an explanation. But no, that too didn't raise a ripple.

Quote No. 2, if it was inaccurate, would have dealt the least harm. If a Bangsa Malaysia truly existed, it'd have been laughed off categorically. LKY would have been pitied for being a senile old man.

On the contrary, all the king's horses and all the king's men, from AAB and Najib to former boss Mahathir, were riled by Quote No.2 – that because the Chinese are hardworking and successful, “they are systemically marginalised, even in education.”

With the amount of spin, rebuttals, and commentaries flying about lately, you'd think we were on trial. Perhaps we are.

How else to explain -

• that when even the nation is described as EQ-challenged, tipped to doing “something silly”;

• that when even the nation's relationship with its neighbour is deemed ill-tended, a slap in the face of goodwill;
  

we choose instead to go sensationally beserk in debunking a supposed mundane domestic myth.

How else to explain?

Unless of course this - that Quote No. 2 has some truth in it.

100-gigab Ram

Court of Appeal Judge Gopal Sri Ram made a timely remark Wednesday:

"Oversensitivity to criticism will lead to intellectual ignorance or, even worse, intellectual arrogance."

He was sitting in an appeal against contempt. Along with Sri Ram were Judges Suriyadi Halim Omar and Abdul Hamid Embong; their decision was unanimous. The case in particular may be uneventful, but not the judge's remarks.

NST reports: ....adding that such (contempt) proceedings were a powerful weapon in the judicial armoury. As such, he (Sri Ram) said, only in the rarest of occasions should contempt action be taken as judges were not beyond criticism.

*****

On the very same day, the Cabinet closed the book on the controversial sacking of the three Supreme Court judges in 1988.

This despite expelled Lord President Salleh Abbas revealing five new facts about the episode a day earlier. Not teeny-weeny facts, but sup tulang-rich facts. Broth facts.

But hell, it wasn't good enough, according to de facto Law Minister Nazri Aziz. Good enough is only when at least one of the judges in the tribunal was to come forward and say he was instructed to find Salleh Abbas guilty. The Bar Council finds such logic puzzling, and its arguments are carried in TheSun.

Me, I'm drawn to a tinier subset of the whole thing; a little ghetto haiku revealing the inner workings of our higher-ups.

Singapore's ST reports: Minister in the Prime Minister's Department Nazri Aziz told The Straits Times that the episode would not be reopened.

"It was discussed in passing in Cabinet, and they agreed with me," he said.

In passing... just that, and who knows, perhaps a yawn.

I pick my nose in passing. I ask how the folks are doing in passing. In passing, I might pick up a pack of menglembu groundnuts at the gas station.

But I cannot - never, ever - discuss an alleged judicial crisis with fellow members of the highest law-making body in the country in passing.

Intellectual ignorance or intellectual arrogance?

Even in its emasculated state, the conscience of the Malaysian judiciary is way ahead of its executive brethren.

One would be forgiven for having the impression that perhaps the Cabinet is actually trying very hard, but only to live up to its vernacular meaning - i.e. a receptacle for empty vessels.

Too much

Dang! For a moment there I thought BN's new headquarters was going to be built in JB.

Reports Bernama: A circus academy where Malaysians can learn the necessary skills to succeed as performing artistes, may be set up at Danga Bay here.

Sorry, tersilap.

A genuine case of habitually being forced to read between the lines.

What lies between chengal and merbau

Remember this picture? It was in The Star on Saturday. The people's leader, Samy Vellu, was on a ladder, flashlight in hand, poking his head through the ceiling finish of a classroom. He was doing a personal inspection, so the story goes.

So the story goes, the administration of SJK(C) Mah Hua in Kampung Selamat, Penang claimed that its RM100,000 bill for roof repairs was not justified. Works Minister Samy, peeved with all the allegations surrounding school repairs lately, decided to take time out from his very, very tight schedule to check the work out for himself. (I mean, he was too busy to meet Shahrir's Public Accounts Committee back during the CIQ/crooked platform compensation episode. Funny, priorities and time management.)

Said Samy: “I wanted to see the work done on this roof. I have asked the PWD to review the costs of this repair work, including the profits made by the contractor.”

“From my personal inspection, I find that some high quality cengal or merbau wood has been used,” he told reporters.

Chengal OR merbau, Samy?

Poor reporters. Taken for a ride again. There's a very good chance Showman Samy doesn't know his wood types, and was just rattling off to impress the kids.

See, chengal and merbau are two very different woods; different appearance, properties, and ultimately cost. You can tell them apart quite easily. There may be some tropical woods similar in appearance to chengal, but merbau ain't one of them.

Chengal has very tight grain, being among the densest of woods as it is, and is a dark dirty brown when aired. It's the colour of day-old coffee rings on your mug. Merbau is coarse, its grain easily visible. Merbau is orangey brown like kaya on your bread.

Structurally speaking, chengal is serious shit – under the Malaysian Timber Industry Board's strength grouping, chengal is king of the peninsular woods (rated SG1, the strongest). Plus it's tropics-ready, resistant to the rotting juices of many bugs and fungi. Which is why chengal was traditionally used in heavy outdoor construction – railroad sleepers, telephone poles, boats... you get the picture. Today, it is almost precious, mainly as an architectural timber exposed to the elements eg trellises, decks and porches. You'd better be rich to want to use chengal.

Merbau isn't as strong structurally. It's grouped under SG4 along with resak, another popular tropical wood. Merbau is pretty when milled and finished; the West and Japan use it as hardwood flooring. Rarely is it used as primary structure.

Why am I making a big deal of this?

I detest spin. Worse, I hate liers, thieves and the sorts. And lastly, nothing makes sense in the story so far.

Chengal, being a protected wood today and hence in limited supply, costs up to twice more than its nearest neighbour-in-strength balau. It probably costs up to four times more than merbau.

No architect or engineer worth his salt would specify chengal for basic roof trusses. It doesn't make economic sense. The RM100k budget would be laughable. Honestly, it's seldom even used in high-end bungalows. Similarly, I don't know of any architect/engineer who'd specify merbau for roof structure – as an SG4 timber, it's not quite there. It's deemed a pretty wood. (Roofers I know use kekatong or kempas, which are SG2 members.)

In fact, forget wood - light-gauge steel trusses would've been the way to go. They're cost-effective and happen to be the industry standard. They're termite-free, recyclable and more precise. Drive by any housing or commercial development, low-cost or high-end, and you'll see these steel frames up. Why didn't they use this ready technology?

Did JKR err in specifying an outdated product? Is this what's been happening in typical school repairs? You smell a rat? I do. The mind shudders at the possibilities from this little misadventure.

So Samy, chengal or merbau? For the more informed, that's like saying "titanium or tin". With your flashlight and your head poked into the roof cavity, could you really tell?

Or did you really not want to.

The Boy from Clare St

I swear James Wong has the sharpest wit in the local political blogosphere. Two days in a row he's tickled me pink with his short deadpan entries while making lucid points. Too bad it may be over the top for some of those politicians.

I mean while Singapore's Mr Brown may be on another level altogether, the Clare St boy's got class. In a way, he's been my online local history teacher, coolly prodding me to reexamine beyond our propaganda-laced texts.

You're very okay, man.



Otherwise, been busy over at the other blog. Ogres been messing up our spaces.

Nades, dragonslayer

He's been my hero journalist from the first time I picked up theSun. He remains ever so. The way he's going, he'll never be a Datuk, and that's a fine compliment.

The Citizen continues...

Let's see how low will an MB stoop to save his own skin. Yup, that MB who boasted that his memory is of pachydermic proportions, but in us commoners' eyes, he's pretty much a rat.

Nuff said.

Fairytale tips

Now I know how it feels to be the lesser-loved sibling in a family. The dreg in the house. No matter how hard you try, how well you mean it – you sweep the floors, dust the furniture, repair the leaks, you do your best – you're never loved quite equally in return. You're never going to be good enough because there's a line drawn.

You'll never understand why.

It's been a private mystery, when as a kid listening to the story of Cinderella and The Ugly Duckling, how miserable one must go through life forever forced into repentence for no sin other than to be born into a household. A household with lines.

It took me a while, but now I know. I'm the dreg. They make sure I remember. They talk about it ever so often, these elder siblings. Sometimes under guise, sometimes outwardly sneering. Seems like it's their way of keeping me in my place. First poking, then pricking, finally piercing – over and over again. Not good enough! You're not us! they cajole. You don't feel like us, breathe like us, walk like us.

I try to understand why.

Am I gawky? Is it how I look, my slanty eyes? Is it my tongue, heavy and clumsy on this refined language? Is it who I hold as Creator? But Papa had said this didn't matter. You were born in this house and you will be equal, he had promised.

His promise was written down plain for all of us siblings to see, and placed in a shrine. These shall be the house rules, he had said, the canons. I peek at the rules and it speaks of a good home, that I am a true member of the family no more no less. With hope borne on fresh wings, I walk away. I will be loved after all.

And I sweep the floors, dust the furniture, repair the leaks; this time even harder in the hope that they'll take me as an equal. I bring in fruit from the farm, fish from the river, and candles from my own cast. I break my back carrying rock and sawing wood to make new quarters and stables for the livestock. But come dinner, in their fine garments and jewelry, they point me away from the main table. Eat over there.

But why, I ask? Without even looking at me, the elder siblings in rehearsed sequence say this is for the good of the family. That I tend to gobble too much, that I'm greedy, I make strange noises while eating, and always tend to take more than my share. That there are other siblings of their kind who are want of food. They are want of clothes even, they reason.

But there is enough food, I blurt. You, the elders, have stocks of the best meats in your store and merchants have come far and away to buy our farm yields. The family – all of us – has worked hard for it. Why do you not share?

Silence, imbecile!, the siblings in fine garments roar.

An elder has raised his fist, another murmurs about the dungeon, and a third smiles condescendingly. He points to the stained worktable outside. “Know your place in this house, little brother,” he says. “See I called you brother. We like your work ethic and what you bring to this compound, but you're not one of us. Not yet. Maybe in 15 years, maybe more, but not yet. Now, just eat there.” He jangles the keys to the dungeon just so I get the point.

I'll never understand why.

I'm back in my room, the room by the outhouse with but one window and the sturdy casts of candles. Should I cast more? Should I add jasmine and cinnamon and local mint to the wax? Should I fill my room with light? Lots of light and scents just so to sustain my spirit?

I move to the window to ponder this over. Instead I see a dusty reflection of me. I study the lines, the profile, the back. How different am I; I still fail to see what they see.

I look harder, beyond the reflection and I finally get a vision. They see me as an illegitimate, a child born out of wedlock, an inferior bloodline.

In their eyes, I'm a bastard.

Hurt, I reach for the picture book and lie back in bed. It's The Ugly Duckling. I skip the front pages – I know the beginnings and the middle, in fact I know the story well. I just want to read once again the ending. The part where in the end, a swan emerges.


Postscript:
This post was written in response to Khairy Jamaluddin's astute observations on Friday. The Oxford-educated Deputy Chief of Umno Youth was speaking at the opening of Jerlun Division Umno Youth delegates meeting.

He said: “The internal split within Umno will weaken the party’s position and this will pave way for the Chinese Malaysians to make various demands to benefit their community.”

Quoted but never carried in the Malay and English press, the shiok-sendiri world of Zam. I didn't know about it until late this morning.

This KJ guy is a walking powder keg.

Coliseum: Another right move

Two weeks ago it was Sipadan. Yesterday Broga, and today Coliseum.... this country is taking its first steps towards developed status after all. See, despite what that clown MB from Selangor claims, a developed society is not just about haughty material possessions.

It is about soul, and soul involves listening, weighing the merits, and not being afraid to right the wrongs. That defines a true jantan.

This is something Khir Toyo and his fellas at PJ City Hall have yet to understand and is proven once again with the Billboard saga.

Datuk Seri Dr Rais Yatim - one of the very few who deserve the title - yesterday notified that the govt will not acquire the Coliseum Cinema at Jln TAR after all. Instead the search will continue for other possible sites for the proposed heritage centre. In listening, Dr Rais showed wisdom. May other ministers and fellow citizens learn from the man.
( http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v3/news.php?id=214163 )

In two weeks we'll be 49 years old as a country. In the last two weeks, we made a leap - hints of a coming of age perhaps. We matured, our cultural spirit toned up, we grew muscle and bone.

Niccolo Machiavelli wrote: "Hence it is necessary for a prince wishing to hold his own to know how to do wrong, and to make use of it or not according to necessity. "

A very recent Administration swore by this philosophy. Many among us in 21st century Malaysia on the other hand think it is a tasteless joke. And that makes all the difference.


p/s: Spent a good part of the weekend preparing an argument for saving the Coliseum... walked all around the locale from the old KTM station, through Central Market, and Petaling Street, Lebuh Ampang, Masjid India, the Padang, past the two Kamdars at TAR all the way to Sogo. Snapped a bunch of pics, grabbed satelite images of KL from Google Earth, made a quick outline for a 3-part KL arts hub piece etc.

i'm glad the episode's over. Now to tackle the billboards.

Three cheers for AAB

If he's serious, make it so. In my ledger, Pak Lah yesterday scored three credit points.

Credit 1: Decision to cancel crooked platform stays
( http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v3/news.php?id=213903 )
I applaud AAB for holding his ground. A unilateral effort by Malaysia will put everything back 25 years. The bridge should only be reconsidered when Malaysia-Singapore relationship reaches a new maturity. I hate to say it, but it may mean after the mortal passing away of Dr M and SM Lee. There's just too much baggage currently, which is a pity because a synergistic MSA-SIN could do so much for Southeast Asia's emergence as an economic, cultural, and political player on the world's stage. We could do so much together.

Credit 2: PM wants coconut planting to be revived
( http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v3/news.php?id=213901 )
Many might pooh-pooh this, but coconut is big. Nutritionists and dietitians have established that coconut oil beats olive oil. Google for yourself and find out. In a sustainable-oriented world, coconut trunks are being processed into structural planks, finish flooring and furniture. We know enough about the uses of the shell, copra, husk, the leaves et al. In other words, an acre of coconut trees can potentially bring in way more ringgit than sitting on your butt as an unemployed graduate. Like with many other tropical plants, we are sitting on a goldmine here yet we remain so enamoured by foreign species like birch, oak and maple.

I've always been a fan of AAB's decision to reintroduce agriculture as a key engine for economic growth. Implementation remains the biggest challenge. The Mahathir administration was too caught up with the fancy-shmancy urban high-tech industries. Agrotechnology is a field our people can definitely handle. It's been our foundation. Making cars wasn't, especially when we weren't even making bicycles. High-intensity, efficient farming in the tropics coupled with sophisticated R&D is a broad niche in the global market.

Seize it well, and we'll carve a place in the world. Lapse for a moment, and we'll lose out to communities who see this immense potential and grab it. Remember coffee? It's a product of the tropics. It's so endeared as a beverage there's even that commonly-used computer language called Java, named after the caffeine-loaded blend from the Indonesian island. The temperate West made it happen, they own it now. We have to make what's ours, ours. It begins with reverence of who we are and where we're from.

Credit 3: Malaysia affirms commitment to Aceh peace process
( http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v3/news.php?id=213872 )
Pak Lah's says he'll be encouraging Malaysian businesses to invest and spur jobs in Aceh. The Malaysian contingent will continue to play its role in the Aceh Monitoring Mission.
While domestic issues have tainted our relationship with Singapore, I do feel pride when I read about our role in helping neighbours such as our exemplary peacekeeping forces in Timur Leste, and the rescue missions during February's Southern Leyte landslide in the Phillipines. We were there after an earthquake hit Yogyakarta in May.

This is Malaysia at its finest – a true friend.

We may not be the most sophisticated outfit in a disaster zone, but we have the heart. And it is because of this humble and giving quality that we are appreciated regionally, respected and taken seriously. It is a fine quality indeed, a well-earned honour.

This is why AAB, to my mind, remains the best person in the country to help forge an energised Asean, a vibrant commonwealth rather than a sluggish acronym for a patch of land and sea. Not Mahathir, not Anwar, not Ku Li.

This is why it is also imperative he delivers his Promise on the domestic scene.

Cinema, not cinema - what is it?

The Coliseum Cinema acquisition is yet another example of poor governance. Rais Yatim, Minister for Culture, Arts and Heritage, hasn't been clear on the whole idea about KL as Art Centre. By clear, I mean visuals, literature, proper media coverage.

On Tuesday, Rais said the Coliseum will not be an arts film theatre. Instead it will be "transformed into a National Heritage Centre to exhibit Malaysian arts, culture and heritage", reported Bernama.

Today's Star reports an about turn: “Then came the idea that if we can acquire the Coliseum and maintain its cinematic function, it would serve us better and this was the decision of the committee.”

Have they even got their plan yet?

See http://straits-mongrel.blogspot.com/ . I'm planning to get more involved in this.

Maha fiery

The Perak skies were red and angry yesterday when, sitting centrestage, Mahathir challenged the rakyat to assess Pak Lah and act. Act fast. And if they were to take his hint - having been Prime Minister for 22 years - it's a big fat F.

In the Q&A session at Universiti Teknologi Petronas, a reporter had asked: "In your speech earlier, you mentioned that a Prime Minister be given a certain amount of time; should our present Prime Minister be given more time?"

Maha's response: "That's up to the rakyat... If we have a Prime Minister who's selling away the country, should we wait five years? We need to take action earlier.

"If he's made plans which we do not know whether they will succeed or not, such as the South Johor Economic Region - his very own idea... not influenced by anyone - but you'll have to wait for another five years."

(See AgendaDaily transcript: http://www.agendadaily.com/cmspreview/content.jsp?id=com.tms.cms.article.Article_e905c840-3132372e-10a4a320-585d75d6 )

Reporter: "Then, should a Prime Minister who's alleged to have sold the country be replaced before five years?"

This time a more curt response: "I don't say... if he sold the country, no need to wait out five years."

Wah, so serious ah?

Mahathir's good at this, you know. The dry sarcasm, the mockery, all calculated to stir feelings of animosity and belligerence.

Except when you peer deeper beyond all that the emo-aggro stuff, and search for substance, you find precious little. You'd expect constructive points, not character assassinations. You'd expect bigger issues and ideas on how to solve them. But you find boiling bile, s'all you find.

When it all first started, I thought hey, we might have an ally. It may light a fire under this administration's butt and get it to work. But the questions became loopy, rehashed, closed circuited; the motives curiouser and curioser. I'm now convinced - it's not love of country, but DNA, the baser stuff of territory and alpha maleness. Plus a chip on the shoulder.

See, of all the frigging problems we face today, our ex-PM picks four: The AP issue, Tengku Mahaleel's removal as CEO of Proton, Proton's sale of MV Agusta for 1 Euro, and the cancelled crooked platform to the middle of the Tebrau Straits (it's not even a bridge; a bridge gathers, not separates, two entities).

These frigging four! Of all the pressing issues - racial polarisation, increased income gaps, rural-urban divide, citizenship scandals in Sabah, the mega-brain drain, mediocre education system, pathetic public transport, petty thefts that take lives, a multi-media super corridor that's forever stymied by its own kryptonite, GLCs poor performance, the judiciary, local councils, and basic integrity - the man who had guided us for 22 years picks these frigging four.

That's vision for you.

As we peer into the four questions, we find out more. Three are Proton-related, while the other is a show-off, middle finger gesture to Singapore, the country he loves to hate. Proton's one of Mahathir's pet projects. It's not been doing well, been on drips for ages. The management had been crowing about its huge profits and success, but please, face the facts. The cars it produces are what we'd hate to admit but what we've come to expect - a Third World product with Third World specs. And yet it's produced and sold at a price higher than a 1.5L Toyota Yaris or a Saturn in the US, after direct conversion. Go figure.

I have lots of issues with the Pak Lah Administration. I'm holding him to his Promise, and only his Promise. For me, I'll wait till the five years are up and go to the ballot box to give my verdict. Meanwhile, I'll voice my opinions on this blog, supply an idea or two if possible. After all, I'm but a commoner.

I'm not losing sleep over a stupid crooked platform, nor spoonfeed a carmaker that hasn't performed as it's meant. I mean, what's new; we survived 22 years of such policies. Sand or no sand, Pak Lah promised he'll change the cultural landscape around here. Onwards to World Class, he says. All I can say is he's running out of time, crossed the halfway mark, and it ain't looking pretty by my book.

If Mahathir genuinely wants to see a healthy Malaysia, it'd be best if he come onboard constructively. Lobby for legislative change. Speak up for the disenfranchised. Encourage a more consultative government. Give clear ideas on how transparancy can be achieved. Spearhead a national think-tank. Whatever, but not this.

In other words, stop being an 81-year-old crybaby.

Our babe's No 1 and did they care?

It's the Merdeka month and Nicol Ann David's started giving. She just presented another gift to Malaysia, winning her second tournament in two weeks. The amazing 24-year-old – who's a Merdeka month babe herself – beat Australian Rachael Grinhmam in the final of the Penang Open yesterday.

Just last week, she stretched limb and sinew to win the CIMB Malaysian Open, a feat which placed her again as the No 1 ranked women's squash player in the world. That needs repeating: In the world.

That's a serious feat especially since squash isn't just another an obscure sport. The Women's Squash International Players Association (WISPA) estimates that 20 million people play the game all over the world and a large majority of professional players predictably come from developed countries.

I've always maintained that it takes more determination for a person from a developing country to be world ranked, and exponentially harder to be world No 1. The hurdles are higher, the mental jacket tighter, and one trudges through cultural mud that places academic pursuits and a good job above all else. Take any sport – how many world champions are there from the Third World?

For this, Nicol is special. Nicol is what you get when iron is forged with grace and heart. A prime example of the best this nation can offer. Thank you, Nicol.


And in return, here's how much the national media organ Bernama enjoyed it – a mere nine paragraphs. ( http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v3/news_sports.php?id=212442 )

If Information Minister Zam would have been less distracted playing media sheriff...
If Sports Minister Azalina would have been less adamant on pursuing that TARCC high performance sports centre in London...
If Najib, as chairman for the Cabinet Committee on Sports, would have an inspiration...

...if they had talked, if their key people had given feedback, if they had all cared, it wouldn't have been difficult to show the game live on RTM. It would have only been obvious, simply the natural thing to do.

This has been our failing – to grasp the immediacy of genuine hard-earned national pride and share it with the entire country. So much could have been gained from it.

It's tragic when we do not get to watch our sportspeople perform even if they're the best in the world and they're playing in our home soil for the top prize. Like, hello, what's the big-time expenditure there?

Rather there's a cruel biasness towards certain favoured sports. RTM was showing a Malaysia Cup game last night, the same day Nicol won her crown. Hell, I like football; but only good football. Badminton doesn't even get that exposure nor hockey nor bowling. Worse still if you're a world champion rally driver. Ask Karamjit Singh.

This much is clear – Nicol Ann David, a Malaysian, worked very very hard to get where she is today, a champion on top of the world. SkySports viewers from around the world can catch her game, it seems. Too bad not us fellow Malaysians.

(Photo: 2005 Carlisle Stockton)

Night thoughts for the main man

If this administration did as it promised – you know, uphold transparency and openness – do you think we'd be facing such strife and threat today? If affairs had been conducted above-board, what ammo would any party have against the running of this country? What would it have had to fear?

The people were behind you; the GE remains solid proof. The catch is in the past tense - were; the Sarawak state elections is proof.

Keep The Promise – that was all we wanted, and what we still want now. This was the first and obvious path for Malaysia to take after the crazy hazy years of Mahapolitick. All we wanted was fresh air and clean skies; to breathe again. To breathe easy.

I can tell you, the very blogdom and free media that Zam and Fu so despise is the same world that would have been happier working with you. The paeans were ready to be sung, like the time you sprang the surprise visit at Immigrations, or when you pushed for the Royal Police Commission.

You had it all. A good believable demeanour, a good believeable background, and a good believable rakyat narrative. Nobody expected you to be the know-all and do-all, that's just impossible. But we did expect you to assemble a team of the finest pahlawans available on this land, to bring back credence to politics in Malaysia. We believed.

After all, integrity, being open and transparent was just the beginning. We had hoped to cultivate again the fundamentals of higher civilisation – how to listen, how to discuss, how to see and feel. For one another; not against.

The Promise kept would have paved many, many inroads into our nation's psyche without a single toll-booth. It would have generated high performance without the need for a complex on foreign soil. It would have satisfied a good margin of the 9MP without having spent a single sen.

The Promise was framed simply and could have been realised just as simply. Make integrity, openness and transparency the unshakeable hallmark of the Administration. Bite it and never ever let go. If any party – minister, official, councillor, public servant, judge, family member – reneges on that agreement, remove it. With surgical coldness, remove it. This country is hardly short on capable replacements, you must agree. By the same token, demand the same of us all, the common citizens.

That was all we asked. To carve The Promise with laser determination.

However big the Machinery that preceded you, you could have been equal if not bigger to slay it. See, you had the people with you, lending pure meaning to the adage “The meek shall inherit the earth”. For the first time in a generation, you had the people ready – beyond the crudeness of race, ideology, and creed. Boy, were we ready.

Today, the administration is facing attacks on many fronts. It isn't hard to see why. Information is still stored in silos guarded by ogres from your own appointment, directly or indirectly. They aren't mere Little Napoleons. It is this opacity and stonewalling which create suspicion and contempt. How bad is it? This bad - that the Past, the figure whose era we wanted so badly to surmount, has actually risen again, not back from the dead as a zombie but a living, breathing, spitting, fiery entity. It has always strived on division and suspicion with deadly success and yes, now you are its target.

Will you fight fire with fire?

Will you use threat, close down the very corridors that had always supported your political stand? Will you unfurl the memory of Ops Lallang to restore order and subservience?

Or will you walk towards the battered wall, recite your pledge, and with laser determination, fight fire with water – open the window to The Promise.

Do that, and I – and millions of honest, dedicated Malaysians who want fresh air and clean skies – will be there. And we will stand firm to keep this window open. Is it in you?

Breaking for bread

Dr M was sprayed with mace yesterday morning. I feel dreadful and sorry.

And yes, also because the act caused him to gasp for air and his eyes hurt from the chemicals. Turns out he's fine, eating well, although by his own admission it was a scary affair.

I feel dreadful and sorry because as updates unfolded, even as he energetically spoke from the podium at the Perdana Hotel that same afternoon, the whole affair was proving itself to be a farce.

As some may have speculated, genuine national interests may not be quite the concern of this groundswell of support for Dr M. They hung buntings and banners, launched websites, Hidup here, Hidup there. But sans words and a hazy spray of mace, the simple message that thundered across the nation was this: Mahathir makes bread, and I want a slice of it. The loaf is a big hit.

The official version – paraphrased – says the incident happened because two groups supporting the ex-PM had wanted to be the official chauffeur (among other savoury limelight responsibilities). They couldn't reach an agreement even as Dr M stepped off the plane at Pengkalan Chepa. They pushed and shoved to usher him – my car better, my Pajero better. They pulled the 81-year-old man this way, then that.

Assuming the official version was accurate to an extent, how would a genuine leader of the people feel? How would a genuine leader take to the notion that it isn't so much his wisdom they're concerned, they just want to carry his balls. Conceivably, they're worth more than their weight in gold. Wouldn't a genuine leader change the angle of his speech and address this present and pressing issue instead – that we are frighteningly mired in tribal practices? That the puak mentality poses the biggest hurdle to this country?

But no, with double-dose of mace and pepper spray Dr M's speech predictably ridiculed the Pak Lah administration. He may have his points, I do not know. I'd like to, but I cannot. He never took the trouble to provide proof; he doesn't care. And the tribes, they don't care either, do they? Stoke the fire, man, stoke the fire. Let's make bread.

I'm no fan of Mahathir, never been. And I have lost faith in Pak Lah way back when he announced his Cabinet reshuffle. Subsequent government policies give me no reason to change my mind.

For all this and more, and proven yet again by the 'pffft' of a RM25 canister of mace, I feel dreadful and sorry. Termites, those cellulose-munching creatures under your house, have a better social structure than us.

I turn off the lights, lie back in bed with my ears trained to the wet darkness outside. The geckos are quiet, crickets dormant. Puak-puak-puak, puak-puak-puak – so goes the sound of frogs in the coconut shells.

Tear gassed

Sigh, and all he wanted to do was talk about his new kedai roti. Sigh

Women, you ain't PM material

Women, get real. You and your kind are not good enough to be Prime Minister in this land. Not yet anyway.

So said Pahang's chief minister who obviously believed he spoke on behalf of the entire country.

The brave but socially-challenged Adnan Yaakob, who is a male by birth I think, made this profound 21st century statement in a speech addressed to 1,000 women. He walked out alive.

I didn't find this reported on the mainstream media. No surprise there because the emasculated were merely heeding Pak Lah's call to practise thoughtful journalism. Malaysiakini has it, and charmingly, The Middle East Times.
http://metimes.com/articles/normal.php?StoryID=20060725-054958-1096r

Here's the entire story in full.

KUALA LUMPUR - A Malaysian state leader has said that the country is not ready for a female prime minister, labeling the idea "unreasonable," a report said Tuesday.
The chief minister of eastern Pahang state, Adnan Yaakob, told more than 1,000 women gathered for a seminar that women had to be "realistic" about their rights.
"I fully support the idea that men and women are equal, but those striving toward this must not ask for unreasonable things," Adnan was quoted as saying in the New Straits Times.
Women are still in the minority in the mostly Muslim nation's parliament and the cabinet, and Adnan said that Malaysian society was not ready to have a woman at the helm of the government.
"That is the reality. Women should fight for their rights, but in doing so, they should not, at least for now, ask for things which do not make sense, such as wanting to be prime minister," he said.

I'm stumped. Bewildered. Kaku.

Just one question escapes: Is a woman then good enough to at least be state chief minister? Hurry, cos I think the beautiful state of Pahang could do with a new one.

Drop Ethnic Relations, teach the Federal Constitution instead

Here's a no-brainer. Instead of baffling courses like Ethnic Relations, Malaysian Studies, and Malaysian Citizenship, why doesn't the government introduce one key program which can serve the goals of the topics above and more?

Let's teach the Federal Constitution in our institutions of higher learning.

The reasons are simple. The Constitution is the germ of our country's Being. Within it are principles on how the nation is to be governed, where checks and balances are, the respective roles of the executive, legislative and judiciary. It defines a Citizen of Malaysia. That's you and I.

It is codified – in black and white – and hence is more lucid than any interpretation-style course. It doesn't have to hide behind the cloaks of pseudo-academia and political agenda. Its textbook – the Federal Constitution itself – can be bought for RM15 at any decent bookstore.

I have reverence for the Constitution. You too, I'm sure. It is a given; my single responsibility as a Malaysian. I trust its contents. I have faith in it, although I admit to not knowing the Constitution well. I have read some key articles and digested them to the best of my faculties. Knowing bits and pieces is admittedly incomplete but at least now, I am more equipped to personally weigh national policies within a sound framework. Better, I have grounds to articulate why.

Currently there isn't widespread literacy in the Constitution among commonfolk and, I suspect, even among our national stewards. Hansards from Parliament reveal a lot and sometimes what they reveal is frightening. This deficiency is undoubtedly shackling our growth as a nation. We encounter a lot of screaming from many quarters – Parliamentarians, bloggers, comments on blogs, coffeeshop talk – but few have substance when probed. That's because these are shouts from the gut, and the gut is tribal.

We ask for Freedom, and freedom asks this of us: Be responsible. First know our bearings, our bones, then only can we act responsibly. Responsible debate, responsible process, responsible practice. The more we know our Constitution the more we collectively move forward responsibly.

This needn't be a dry course. Rather than exam-oriented, it can be a rich liberal arts-style module, full of probing questions and sharpening of principles. Lectures could be balanced with discussion sessions with readings from other sources. It would address fundamentals: What's the point of a constitution? What shaped ours? What are its key ideas? When is an amendment deemed necessary?

Would it be too much to learn, as well, the history of the Constitution and its subsequent amendments? How about including a broad survey of the constitutions of other countries – our Asean neighbours, our colonial mother Britain, the US, Egypt, Pakistan and India?

Would all this be too much to ask? I think not. Rather, this could be a legacy of the Pak Lah administration, a no-nonsense message about walking the talk. The Ministry of Higher Education can easily carry the responsibility of improving Constitution literacy among our youths. In fact, go one step better – have the course in the evenings and make it an open course where members of the public are free to audit such classes.

The Federal Constitution is a document I wish to study as a citizen of this country. Don't you?

Shall we?

Spirit of High Performance

Hang Tuah would've shed a tear over such loyalty. In trying to save its master's face, the National Sports Council has shown that it is simply a coterie of bumbling bumpkins.

In a statement released today, the NSC said the Youth and Sports Ministry had never intended to build a full blown sports complex for the proposed High Performance Training Centre (HTPC) in Brickendonbury, England for RM490 million as claimed.

Heehaw! Beats reading the funnies.

Reports Bernama:
(http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v3/news_sports.php?id=208927)
The plan to turn the centre into a sports hub got off the ground with the approval of the Cabinet Committee for Sports Development, whose members include 15 cabinet ministers, chaired by Deputy Prime Minister Datuk Seri Najib Tun Razak.

As directed by the Cabinet, the NSC was instructed to explore the possibility of coexistence with the current occupants - TARRC with consultation with the Malaysian Rubber Board (MRB).

Thus, the figure of RM490 million for the HTPC as quoted widely in the media was absolutely wrong and highly speculative, said NSC in the statement.

But, but.... the media had to quote it from somebody, no? And as it turns out, it was your dear minister Azalina who said it. So, she lied? Cooked up facts? Just like the time she said each vocational institute (IKBN) would cost a whopping RM100 million to build?
(see http://bumiku.blogspot.com/2006/01/welcome-to-my-vocational-taj-mahal.html) I mean, spin all you want, govt, but spin with some intelligence. It's getting too easy.

The funnies continue. In just one evening's edition of Bernama, you can read – and weep – about dunce policies and the politicans who are shaping our cultural landscape. If you have the stomach, that is.

More:
If you want to gain a place in our public university, make sure you do National Service. It scores you the highest marks in the co-curriculum component of university admissions. So what if you've represented the country in wushu or squash, done relief work in tsunami-hit Pangandaran, a kid who's gone through NS is one up on you. And too bad if your name didn't get drawn in the NS lottery in the first place (you do know it's a lottery right?); that's just the way of the land. Smells foul? You bet.

Our dear Higher Education Minister, that Mustapha guy, insists the controversial Ethnic Relations Module is cool once a few refinements are made. “From the 120 pages, only four are disputed and mostly the problem is in its interpretation only,” said the man. Far as I know, factual errors were actually found in the text and these have been highlighted substantially over the internet. More important is what the wise datuk elucidated – it's mainly over interpretation. Yeah, interpretations. With so much room for interpretation floating over May 13 and the like because impartial Commissions of Inquiry were never held, can you ever fairly teach this as a compulsory subject? Above all that, what is your real motive in having this module?

The Deputy Transport Minister made a startling revelation in the Dewan Rakyat which shocked all who toil honestly in this beloved land and fell us to our knees in gratitude. Tengku Azlan said this: All Ministers and Deputy Ministers who have been issued traffic summonses will have to pay up; no exceptions .................. (!) .................... He said the Cabinet even discussed this before making a decision. Our leaders are so thoughtful. Now how about setting aside some precious time on lesser issues such as racial and economic polarisation, and getting the best – and I mean merit-best not crony-best – out of our nation?

Oh, Bernama can be such a treasure trove, and you ought to go there yourself – it's free with good quality humour, if you choose to see it it that way. Which is about the only way without bursting a blood vessel.

And as always, the best is saved for last:
Samy Vellu has assured the rakyat that he will personally monitor the 9MP infrastructure projects.

That very thought just made me wet my pants. No prizes for what that means in double-speak. I must say, we are eternally blessed. In this country, the circus is always in town; it's a high performance sport.

Photo: http://www.clownjojo.dk/WorkshopFotos/images/circus%20workshop%201.jpg

9MP reveals its face

The curtain is opening. Come. Come catch a glimpse. Do you like its face, the face of gemilang?

The first list of development projects under the 9MP was released today by Pak Lah – 880 packages worth some RM15 billion.

More will be added “from time to time” as the different ministries complete their homework.

Do scrutinise the list if you can spare the time. It makes for interesting material for those keen on comprehending the priorities of our government. If anything it articulates (or jumbles, depending...) AAB's abstractions of the 9MP announced in April; this exercise will sculpt its form over the next five years.

Draw your own studied conclusions – that's important – but do tie it back to the warm, glowy larger goals of the 9MP. You remember, Pak Lah's noble Five Thrusts:

to move the economy up the value chain;
to raise the capacity for knowledge and innovation and nurture 'first class mentality';
to address persistent socio-economic inequalities constructively and productively;
to improve the standard and sustainability of quality of life; and
to strengthen the institutional and implementation capacity.

Me, I stick to the simpler things. I like observing our neighbourhoods and towns and try locate what's deficient in the urban makeup. What's missing is a lot of heart and soul, I think. After all, 22 years of Mahathir's dust-kicking grand economic march left plenty of dislocation in local communities. Despite my own deep cynicism, I was hoping this compassionate successor would inject something under the 9MP to restore some isotonic balance.

Balance? How about Bah!

Here's compassion and 'first class' mentality for you:

There is not a single public library – new or upgraded – in the list for the entire country.

Of the 71 projects under the Prime Minister's Department, nine are for retail spaces and complexes, seven hotel wakaf (what are these??), but there is not a single project for the so-called revived Rukun Tetangga program which I deem to be a vital element to community development in the urban areas.

So much for the radiant face of gemilang. Let's see what happens “from time to time”; this is an initial list after all. Just that right now, it's plain discordant.

Encore? Spare me.

Zidane's final message

If somebody curses my family and loved ones, or my colour, or my background – with bile and malice – I shall clobber him. Hard.

There are limits to tolerance, I'm afraid. I'm no saint, I'm all DNA and bone, and far short of that new-age love-all cosmic dust.

Human. As are the other 6.6 billion people in this world, I suspect.

As is Zinedine Zidane.

Flesh and blood, yet so divine with the football, but flesh and blood no less. And in the world's finest football stage, on a night he was busily whipping out calligraphy on the turf, he did what he must now wish he did not do. He must have wished he could've carried the weight of his country's flag, he must have wished he upheld his role as a model to children with dreams, he must have wished he could've ended his career amid worldwide smiles and popping fireworks.

Instead, he was gravity-bound, flesh and blood, with human pride and a breaking point. Zidane, an artist most happy when at work, clobbered a provoking pretender during studio hours last night.

His sending off and the subsequent crashing of France didn't go down well with me. It wasn't anger, it was a strange sense of justice unfulfilled. It was a red card, yes. But something here was different - Zidane is no Christiano Ronaldo actor; it wasn't a Figo fit, it wasn't a Rooney stomp. It was something quite aside, undifferentiated as yet by the rules today.

Zidane's full-bodied head butt in the 108th minute of the final game has capped a wonderful World Cup 2006 and exposed new challenges to the managing of the sport. Sports columnists have been quick to condemn Zidane's act as a disgrace to France and to football. Disgrace! Shame! Stupid! But that's just what journalists do – self-appointed moral monitors as they are – they who comment as if our world was black-and-white as their print, and they who view themselves as pure angels above wrong-doing.

Video images of the final show Zidane already moving past a mouthing Marco Materazzi; the Frenchman stops, does a 180 turn and rams his head hard into the chest of the tall Italian defender. The moments prior to the act showed chest holding and shirt-tugging by the Italian. That's common enough in a game. Zizou was about to move on, get on with football; he had begun running to position, yet more words spilled forth from the Italian. Then the decided brake, turn and bam!

What was uttered that could unleash such wrath?

By any account, given the rules of the game as they stand, this was a red card. No question about it. But another question emerges from the fog of that incident: If rules are there to promote a good healthy game, then is the current set doing the job?

How low should peripheral tactics – diving, playacting, trash talking – be allowed to get if they begin to affect the very nature of sport? How do we protect the sanctity of the game? I fail to see the point in artless victories.

What is the spirit of sport? Perhaps it is best explained by another sports icon rather than another pontificating journalist.

In the summer of 1999, women's tennis saw an emerging darling Martina Hingis take on an ageing injury-plagued Steffi Graf in the French Open singles final. It was a difficult game, the sweetest in its genre, and Hingis, leading but increasingly frustrated at not being able to close out the match, began moaning about line calls and battled the umpire. So incessant was the 18-year-old's whining, the regal Graf walked to the net at one occasion and told the pouting Hingis: “Please! Play tennis. Let's just play tennis.”

For the record, Steffi won that day in what turned out to be a classic. From that incident on, Hingis was booed by the crowd at Roland Garros and finished the game in tears. But above all that was the moral – play tennis.

Play football.

Zidane did until something snapped. Did Materazzi? In those moments prior, what was uttered, I'm ever curious. I think the world deserves to know, especially before condemnation begins.

I do know that Zidane, despite the white furnace in his belly, is not one who bothers over petty issues. It's been displayed in all aspects of his game. His is a class act, flamboyant yet efficient with few words wasted, even fewer dives. If anything, he wants to be part of a beautiful thing. And then there's that line. That taut line that divides the creator and the destroyer which exists in every genius and which lesser mortals seem intent on exploiting.

I'd like to believe the startling event on Sunday may turn out to be more important than winning the trophy. It was Zidane's destiny to go out with a bang except fate wrote a script nobody could foresee; a morbid contribution to the game few can comprehend now because of its rawness.

I believe it'll set football on overdrive in its continuing quest for the most level of playing fields in order that teamwork and spirit, skill and talent remain the only criteria for winning. Not diving, not playacting, not trash-talking. They have changed the structure of the ball, created new grass hybrids, reinvented footwear, reconfigured stadiums, tweaked the rules – all to promote a fairer game.

It's only a natural step that, given the profile of the Zizou incident, FIFA looks seriously into the emerging disease of on-field misdeeds. Poor and cynical gamesmanship - especially those that go into personal territory - destroys the beautiful game. What triggers a violent act can at times be more repulsive than the act itself, and such behaviour should never be allowed to roost on the field.

So far, only hearsay has emerged about what was actually uttered. This much has been perpetuated about the moments prior – Materazzi called Zidane a terrorist; Materazzi told Zidane to go play for his own country instead. A lot depends on the manner on how the remarks were made.

If any of that had a grain of truth, and if I were in Zidane's shoes big as they were, Materazzi would be without teeth today. But that's just me, a potential disgrace to country and family. Sports journalists may pass all the judgment they want, but the simple message would be: Please! Play football.

Yes, play football. For a man uncomfortable with words, that was Zidane's strange and final message to everyone involved in the game. How fitting, if you ask me.

Cut and paste

Holy smokes, they're doggone persistent in pursuing the theme park idea at Nusajaya, aren't they? A day after Disneyland US said forget it, UEM is still adamant about making it happen, as if a theme park was the best idea since the creation of the universe. Just shows how dull these folks can be.

We have such beautiful natural resources unavailable to many countries, where tourists would give a dollar and a leg to experience, yet we choose to seek pop formulas set up by others. Dumb.

This fetish with theme parks is getting ridiculous - some clown Penang MP also has theme park ideas for Pulau Jerejak - and all this smacks of wanting to mirror Singapore's integrated resorts. There must be a word for this: If kleptomaniacs are people who uncontrollably steal, and megalomaniacs are people with fat egos, what do we call people who incessantly copy the efforts of others? The best I can come up is 'Sheep'.

Theme park, ptooi.

I suspect it may well have something to do with their place of work; ask the experts in environmental psychology. After all, the clowns with clout happen to be collected in the largest, most ridiculous theme park in the country modeled after the Arabian Nights. They call it Putrajaya.

Doors

She found red spots on scraps of 68-million-year-old dinosaur bones. Turns out, paleontologist Mary Schweitzer may have uncovered blood vessels and whole blood cells in that particular T. Rex.

Her discovery is huge - overturning previous beliefs that soft tissue do no last - and stands to move the boundaries of that science a pterodactyl leap forward. Fellow paleontologists believe these observations could provide some answers to the evolution of dinosaurs, their physiology, and whether these creatures were warm or cold-blooded.

It is all in the technique – an acid bath - which is a product of Schweitzer’s unconventional approach to digging at secrets. It speaks of her background.

In many ways, that’s the most inspiring part of the story for me. And, in a not-so-subtle hint, lessons on education policies for this region.

Reports the Smithsonian (http://www.smithsonianmag.com/issues/2006/may/dinosaur.php):

“It may be that Schweitzer’s unorthodox approach to paleontology can be traced to her roundabout career path. Growing up in Helena, Montana, she went through a phase when, like many kids, she was fascinated by dinosaurs. In fact, at age 5 she announced she was going to be a paleontologist.

“But first she got a college degree in communicative disorders, married, had three children and briefly taught remedial biology to high schoolers. In 1989, a dozen years after she graduated from college, she sat in on a class at Montana State University taught by paleontologist Jack Horner, of the Museum of the Rockies, now an affiliate of the Smithsonian Institution. The lectures reignited her passion for dinosaurs. Soon after, she talked her way into a volunteer position in Horner’s lab and began to pursue a doctorate in paleontology.”

Let’s see: A kid grows up dreaming of becoming a dinosaur scientist. She follows a different path. She gets married, has three kids and becomes a high-school teacher. She goes back to school after 12 years, gets hooked on to paleontology again, volunteers in a lab and works towards her Ph.D in paleontology. Today, she’s proving that such an investment pays off.

Mary Schweitzer could only do this because in the US and many other developed countries such avenues are available. Doors remain open for the common adult to better themselves. Whether in academia, professional or vocational, adult learning programs are seen as a vital source for progress. Each field thrives on drawing people from diverse backgrounds, knowing that they bring freshness and lateral bite to a discipline.

It works on the simple principle that people constantly grow, and not stop at this threshold called Matrikulasi or STPM where their life's fate is more or less decided. Many discover (or rediscover) their passion later in life; more so in our region I believe. The sad story is, many among us buy a changkul in our 20s, dig energetically and bury our passions; partly out of security, partly because we don’t have any better means of actualization. Dulled and herded, we then go for a bite or catch a sale. Way to go.

Forget the indulgent buildings, grand highways and scenic bridges. They are paeans to raw ego and greed. The bones of a real wawasan lie in a firm commitment to education - of all ages, creed, and emphatically, race. If instead we invested heavily in setting up doors, encourage a maturing population to seize their dreams, we’d be retapping into a giga-gilawatt of human spirit.

I’ll be a happy person if, in our local institutions, we see 30-40 year olds attending undergraduate or grad courses of their choice, not just a bunch of MBA junkies. I’ll be doing flips if, in our local institutions, we see engineers taking up sculpture and accountants majoring in physics. When that happens, you know we can seriously talk about Boleh without breaking into guffaws. We needn’t be surrounded with Keranamu billboards – we’ll be living it.

Let’s not wait; let’s put together a government enlightened enough to enable that.

Strong medicine

You learn something new every day.

Stare decisis – Latin for ‘to stand by things decided’ – is a cool phrase with a big stick, as I found out. In the laws of our land, as with many other societies, stare decisis is a key doctrine based on the principle that when a point has been made by decision, it sets a precedent. This precedent shall be respected and honoured in any subsequent cases.

Its aim is this: This policy . . . ‘is based on the assumption that certainty, predictability and stability in the law are the major objectives of the legal system; i.e., that parties should be able to regulate their conduct and enter into relationships with reasonable assurance of the governing rules of law’. (Moradi-Shalal v. Fireman's Fund Ins. Companies (1988) 46 Cal.3d 287, 296)

Federal Court Judge Augustine Paul pulled that phrase out Thursday when dissing his colleague Gopal Sri Ram of the Court of Appeal. Justice Paul mentioned this in a written judgment over the Metramac-Fawziah Holdings case.

The Star reports:
“Justice Paul said that although Justice Sri Ram was correct in saying that the Federal Court had made the wrong decision in Lam Kong Co Ltd v Thong Guan Co Pte Ltd and Capital Insurance Bhd v Aishah Manap & Anor, he was not the right authority permitted by law to express such an opinion.

“As both cases are judgments of the Federal Court he (Justice Sri Ram) is bound to follow them whether he agrees with them or not.

“The stand taken by him is in blatant disregard of the doctrine of stare decisis, particularly the need to comply with this fundamental rule of the common law,” he said.

Justice Paul, in predictable fashion, goes on to mention another point which forms the paradox to the doctrine.

“However, in the written judgment, Justice Paul agreed that both the cases of Lam Kong Co Ltd and Capital Insurance had been wrongly decided.

In the two cases, the Federal Court had ruled that any interim decision or ruling by the Court of Appeal made pending or before the end of proceedings cannot be appealed to the Federal Court.

Justice Paul said the Federal Court now did not agree with the ruling of former Chief Justice Mohamed Dzaiddin Abdullah in the Lam Kong case that this was done to “filter against unnecessary appeals.”

Here’s the dilemma. Granted that the courts are run by humans, fallible as we are, mistakes will be made. There will be wrong decisions. If stare decisi is to be upheld in its purest form, we’re in trouble. Who rights the wrong?

While it is true stare decisi forms a key doctrine in law, its exactitude is also one of the most debated topics in the courts of many countries. So potent is its content, the best minds of the law are wrestling to manage it from abuse. (Here's one good essay.)

Yet some, I believe, clamour for it as a convenient weapon to achieve an agenda. It is an animal instinct: If it’s there, why not use it to serve us?

Lately, the government has been emitting strong signals to toe the line. We’ve read about Sharir and the ridiculous Umno Whip. The message – forget conscience, toe the line. On Sunday morning, the police used force and aggression against demonstrators to the fuel and electricity hikes at KLCC. The message – go home, change your lifestyle, toe the line.

Augustine Paul’s criticism of Gopal Sri Ram is a weak one. It was a cheap shot that reeks of masters and servants and the stink of politics invading the sanctum of the judiciary. I read it as a prepping up and dressing down of the eventual decision to come on the Metramac-Fawziah case.

Thanks to incompetents, we’ve lost our balance of right and wrong. We’ve allowed fools to smash our lamps of truth. It is okay to be a cheat. You know, close one eye.

How else do you explain that over at Sipadan, one of the most unique marine ecosystems around – after a contractor’s illegal barge ripped apart a section of corals and exposed suspicious building contracts and deals probably with the government – the State Tourism, Culture and Environment Minister Chong Kah Kiat comes on the news saying the contractor has apologized so there will be no penalty imposed, just a cleanup fee. Fuckwits.

Seems like the wheels of deceit are spinning happily. In fact they’ve have been equipped with new all-weather tyres. Clearly, when one resorts to strong medicine – from citing stare decisis to police force – it illustrates a lack of faith in the body system to regulate its own health. It deems that a critical and thinking public, one that demands accountability and fairness, is a fever that needs fierce control.

They forget there’s such a thing as overdose.

Seasoned

We're like neighbours separated by a fence called the Titiwangsa Range. While most of the limelight has fallen on the west coast states of peninsular Malaysia, the east coast sails along, its culture growing confidently without the bulldozers of development.

Guys in shades and dive-gear probably remember it more for the great beaches and underwater world, and perhaps visions of a tanned babe in a bathing suit. All that is true. But there is indelibly more.

In reality, Pantai Timur has arguably a more layered history stretching back to the glory days of Langkasuka and even before that. As with sands shifting, so did local culture; and what is this culture today? What are its values? Forget politics and the newspapers. Go there. Go there and feel.

Any novice interested in local history will find this stretch of coast over 450km a refreshing template as to how people work together, play together. Observations on my other blog: http://straits-mongrel.blogspot.com/2006/05/mute-and-salted.html

Eating up history

Maybe it's in the quiet shadows, maybe it's age but I'm disturbed by the directions of Melaka's growth. I firmly believe we made a terrible mistake in the 70s and 80s by reclaiming land at the mouth of the Melaka River. We're allowing the disease to spread today.

Does history have to be buried in the name of progress?

Did a roadtrip with Hup, spent a couple of nights in Melaka plus a quick jaunt to Muar. The whole place is a gemstone of breathing history. But we seem intent on suffocating it.

Yesterday, we defaced Banda Hilir and Tranquerah. Today, we're killing Klebang to who knows where... Tanjong Kling? Tanjong Bidara?

If Hang Jebat was around, he'd have those responsible quartered and cooked. My rants: http://straits-mongrel.blogspot.com/2006/05/water-margin.html

A very good walk

I read that he asked for a kretek before he died. He loved his cloved tobacco – the crackling stick, tingling bite to the lips, the full-body smoke in the lungs – as he loved Indonesia. Pramoedya Ananta Toer, writer and beacon, died this morning at home in East Jakarta.

Unlike the many episodes he went through in his 81-year life, in this final passage he was among family, and that at the very least must have been a beautiful thing.

It has been a long, long trek for Pramoedya, born Feb 6, 1925 in the Central Java town of Blora beneath the sheltering canopy of its teak forests. He was the first-born among nine siblings and was given a name he stoically lived up to without bend or feign. Pramoedya means “First in the Battlefield”. And early in life while a loyalist soldier, he quickly discarded the bayonet for the pen.

He lived through Dutch rule, then the Japanese Occupation, saw the red and white flag of Indonesia raised and the decades of independence thereafter. After the war, pressing for a free Indonesia, he was jailed by the Dutch for 2-1/2 years. In 1960, his pen singeing with anger at the continuing feudalistic practices of the Sukarno government, he was jailed again, this time for two years. The most brutal was to come under Suharto – Pramoedya was detained without trial along with thousands of political prisoners, and imprisoned for 14 years, ten of which were on the penal island of Buru. It has been reported that in all the years of his captivity, he had never been charged with a crime.

It has been said that whatever doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger. Pramoedya’s works are proof. From as early as Perburuan (The Fugitive), first published in 1949, to the magnificent Buru Quartet, his verses have a quiet beat that remind you of the warm Nusantara nights, of cicadas, and the sloshing gullies during a rainstorm. They remind you of the smell of your own bed, of fresh-cut serai, and the tsk-tsk croak of geckos. It's that kind of beat.

They haunt.

Ironically enough, I first came to hear of Pramoedya’s works in a country and culture far from the tropics. In a toasty living room on a winter’s night in Eugene, OR, Coleen F, a wonderful American friend was recounting her days in Southeast Asia. She and then-boyfriend, now-husband Stephen had spent many months traveling in the region from Sulawesi to Sumatara to Indochina. Both speak fluent Bahasa Indonesia, and I must thank them for reawakening my affiliation to these lands.

“Try this,” Coleen said, over a mug of coffee. “Maybe you can tell us if it feels real to you.” It was a yellowed, dog-eared paperback, tattered at the corners, the sort of book that’s been floating through the hands of many back-packers.

It was This Earth of Mankind, the first novel of the Buru Quartet, which traces the growing nationalism through the eyes of Minke and Annelies. That night, in my frigid room, I read the opening paragraphs, then pages leafed over pages and slowly into chapters. Yes, it felt real. Not only that, it hit a depth in my being not very often struck. It unraveled a culture I knew but wasn’t intimate. It captured scenes and dialogues I lived in. It was vivid. It told a history and a people’s values far better than any textbook in school.

Two years later, I was back in this region, to this water wonderland. In my early days back, I was browsing through the book bins in Giant at Shah Alam when I found two jewels – Pramoedya’s The Fugitive, and House of Glass (final installment of the Buru Quartet) – chucked among other novels and children’s nursery rhymes. For RM9.95 a pop, it was a steal. Months later, while strolling through Books Kinokuniya I came across the exact two titles in the original Bahasa Indonesia version. What joy.

While the original version has a definite more earthy texture given the gamelan nature of Bahasa, Willem Samuels' translations are quite wonderful in themselves.

It has not been easy coming upon Pramoedya’s works in this land of pop booksellers and I still lament the absence (or demise?) of a used book culture that throbs with so much vibrance at affordable prices, a place where good literature can still be obtained on a shoestring existence. But that’s another story.

Here’s what matters for now. Pramoedya Ananta Toer lit it up for me then, and in reading about his life and causes, continues to light it up even more. In his struggles and uncompromising stand on honest values, he sits emblazoned as one of the few people in Southeast Asia who had the balls to show he had a heart and a brain. The role of literature in Indonesia “is simply to raise the level of humanity”, he had said.

He was unafraid. He was unafraid – as so many today are still afraid – to acknowledge, for instance, that the beauty and greatness of the Indonesian spirit is a concoction of many different cultures, the Chinese being a major one. Accept that fact and accept these people, he wrote. He was persecuted and jailed by Sukarno for delving on that topic (the Hua Kiau letters).

He was deemed a left-wing activist, a communist, by Suharto and was impounded on Buru, stealing away what would have been the years of fatherhood to his infant children. “Follow me, sir. I'll take you to safety,” an army corporal had told him as a mob gathered outside his house that fateful October night in 1965. He was led to a truck, clubbed with a rifle and lost his hearing.

In Buru, without pen nor paper he recited his stories orally. He was released from Buru only to be confined to house arrest in Jakarta. His books were banned under Suharto’s Indonesia and his name was not allowed to be mentioned in any publication. In 1992, on Human Rights Day, he simply decided to walk out on the streets and be a free man. It helped that Suharto was a weakened man by then.

An honest life spent bears its fruit although they may come years later. In the course of crafting his oeuvre – 37 novels, poetry, essays – Pramoedya was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature a number of times and was awarded the Ramon Magsaysay Award in 1995 among many others.

But for me, I believe the happiest denouement to his life was that at the end of the day, when the shades finally came down on his lithe body, he had had a final kretek – Indonesia’s own – all quiet and peaceful, crackling in that sweet clovened smell. And he had his family around, his own.

Rest well, my kindred spirit, rest well. You’ve had a long beautiful walk.



Photo: Stanley http://www.radix.net/~bardsley/photos2.html

Notable links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pramoedya_Ananta_Toer
http://www.radix.net/~bardsley/prampage.html
Provides huge body of literature and photos on Pram and his work.