Old paths, new bridges

Got out of the country for some fresh air two weekends ago. Central Java, land of Borobudur and Prambanan, chokes with history and offers plenty to those who are keen on knowing more about our Nusantara roots, even our Peranakan links.

Clearly, it is more than a place of pretty temples. It nudges you to think and make connections. Four days - that's the time I spent there - is pittance, but it'll do for now. There's just too much to absorb as it is.

First impressions can be found at my other blog. ( http://straits-mongrel.blogspot.com/) It's skimpy but a start no less. I'll add more in due time. One thing's for sure, next planned stop in the not too distant future - Palembang.

Tender loving care

Remember this:

'The tender process
will be open
and transparent.'

- Works Minister Samy Vellu,
announcing on Sunday that tenders for 378 infrastructure projects under the 9MP will be called in phases beginning next month. The total estimated sum involved is RM18.6 billion. Yes, billion. (http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v3/news.php?id=190901)

Let's play Honour your Word.
But first, some Revision Notes:

Transparent (adj)
1. Capable of transmitting light so that objects or images can be seen as if there were no intervening material. See synonyms at clear.
2. Permeable to electromagnetic radiation of specified frequencies, as to visible light or radio waves.
3. So fine in texture that it can be seen through; sheer. See synonyms at airy.
4. Easily seen through or detected; obvious: transparent lies.
Free from guile; candid or open: transparent sincerity.
5. Obsolete. Shining through; luminous.

[Middle English, from Old French, from Medieval Latin trānspārēns, trānspārent-, present participle of trānspārēre, to show through : Latin trāns-, trans- + Latin pārēre, to show.]

("transparent." The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004. Answers.com 10 Apr. 2006. http://www.answers.com/topic/transparent)


Open (adj)
1.
a) Affording unobstructed entrance and exit; not shut or closed.
b) Affording unobstructed passage or view: open waters; the open countryside.
2.
a) Having no protecting or concealing cover: an open wound; an open sports car.
b) Completely obvious; blatant: open disregard of the law.
c) Carried on in full view: open warfare; open family strife.
d) Sports. Not closely defended by an opponent: an open receiver.
3.
a) Not sealed or tied: an open package.
b) Spread out; unfolded: an open book.
4. Having interspersed gaps, spaces, or intervals: open ranks; an open weave.
5.
a) Accessible to all; unrestricted as to participants: an open competition.
b) Free from limitations, boundaries, or restrictions: open registration.
c) Enterable by registered voters regardless of political affiliation: an open primary.
d) Computer Science. Of or relating to a file that can be accessed.

("open." The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004. Answers.com 10 Apr. 2006. http://www.answers.com/topic/open)


Stay peeled. In some ways, this is better than the World Cup; it comes once every five years.

Stupid face

Baffling. After appointing himself the moral guardian here, this Zam fella now wants to be Singapore’s Minister of Information as well. Bernama reports:

“The Singapore media are not contributing to improving relations between the republic and Malaysia by frequently publishing inaccurate reports on Malaysia, Information Minister Datuk Zainuddin Maidin said Sunday…

“Zainuddin said the Singapore media should emulate the Malaysian media which did not publish reports that could spoil relations between the two countries.”
(http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v3/news.php?id=190861)

Seems like he’s displeased over the conjured image of Malaysia being a haven for car thieves. He’s sulking. But that’s not the point.

The point is whether these are facts.

And if they are, can we as Malaysia face them? And actually do something about it? Something deep, elegant and far-reaching that addresses the larger social issues.

It’s one thing when our ineptitude is effectively covered by muzzling the local press, another when it is exposed by a sovereign neighbour’s media because it involves its people. If those are actual incidents, then Singapore has every bloody right to highlight it.

Sure Singapore’s words may come across as crass, kurang sopan. Western style. Our Most Duly Respected (YAB) chieftains feel they’ve been dissed, slapped in the face; something they’re not used to on local turf.

Tough, baby. If you haven’t realized, in the real working world, the rules are different. It’s actually fairer. You don’t get to change the goalposts, and you don’t get to muscle your might over minions. Mostly, you earn respect, not buy it. And when you’re busted, you own up, you suck it up and you fix the damn problem.

Now that - above all the slogans and scripture-reading on the radio - is integrity.

I think, we suffer from this whole ‘give face’ / ‘lose face’ bullshit. It’s our common denominator, a disease beyond race, religion, and income level. Insidiously over the decades, it has pockmarked all arms of government and the private sector. It has made Rafidah have a kneecap operation in the height of the AP issue, Samy Vellu exclaim something about “an Act of God”, and some clown MB go “Semuanya OK”.

It is an epidemic. This ‘face’ thing has kept us wrapped in cocoons of ignorance, dependence, and lies. We mistake its stifling choke as the warmth of down feathers, docile chicken that we are. Way too often, it has made us stand down when we should be standing up.

Mind you, it’s not about being rude, it’s about getting a damn spine. Gandhi wasn’t rude. Nor is Aung San Suu Kyi.

Face. Bah!

I’d rather face the issues. I’d rather face facts. And then collectively work on imaginative solutions to the problems at hand. As for car thefts, I do personally know of a few Singaporeans who have been carjacked, threatened at knifepoint, parang-point, kukri-point. I’ve heard many more stories told by friends about Singaporean cars being stolen. I’m picky about the friends I make; as a rule, they do not make lying a lifestyle, therefore I believe them.

There is a high chance even more Malaysians have had their cars stolen, either forcibly or theft. From Lexus to older Proton Sagas, the robbers lose no time intellectualizing the merits. Again I personally know of a few, and many more stories.

The fact is this, harder-core crime happens in higher numbers here than in Singapore. Rape, murder, robbery, burglary, snatch theft. It is far from anarchy, far from it. It does not make Malaysia an ugly place. But it presents yet another symptom of the social and income imbalance in this country and how much ground we need to make. There is nothing wrong with facing that fact straight on.

So when the Singapore media chooses to ‘sensationalise’ car-thefts across the causeway, it is informing the-good-life people there of the precautions one needs to take when in Malaysia. If that deters them from coming in, and instead opt for safer trips perhaps to Korea, Europe, Australia, well good for them.

And sad for you, Zam. Because you think Singaporeans are idiots who fear the dark, who are totally led by their media, who cannot adapt and take precautions, and who cannot see Malaysia is beautiful despite its flaws.

So Zam, look in the mirror and shut up already. Just shut the F up.

U life

Oh man, what a blast! MIT and Caltech, two premier tech universities in the US have been playing pranks on each other for some time now. The latest goal was scored Thursday by MIT.

Reports the LA Times:

“In the ongoing battle of the nerds between Caltech and MIT, the latest volley has been fired from a 130-year-old cannon…

Massachusetts pranksters, posing as professional movers, stole the beloved Fleming Cannon — traditionally fired at each year's commencement — from the Pasadena campus last week.”
(http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-statue7apr07,0,2096065.story)

I just love it when the wits of youths are put to play. In this case, the rivalry is just tasty and engaging. There’s even a website that keeps score on Caltech vs MIT. Rivalry, as any mature person knows, is not hate. Far from it. In fact, MIT and Caltech collaborate closely on many disciplines, from jet propulsion to voting methods in the presidential elections, and the respect for each other is clearly mutual.

Pranks and rivalry as a package among universities is not uncommon. There’s Harvard and Yale, the classic being the giant ‘We Suck’ banner in 2004. I can’t recall any but I’m sure the Oxford-Cambridge rivalry must have had its fair share of thrusts and parry, perhaps over beer and sherry.

One thing’s for sure, clever pranks point to a fertile mind. A good prank challenges the creators and requires creative execution for it to succeed - in the recent MIT case, to ship a cannon all the way from coast to coast! And a prankster only preys on an equal with no harm intended except for bruised egos and bragging rights. Clever pranks, much like play in animal behaviour, are an indicator that a system is healthy.

Hence, a memo to the many Yang Amat Berhormats out to jaga the morals of this country: Get a life.

There’s honestly no need to play Head Prefect. Why are you people so sibuk in the running of our lives? The University and University College Act stifles wit and instills fear. And yet we want to be among the top in the world. Ptooi.

Instead of micro-managing trivial matters like whether ‘College’ought to be removed from College University because grads feel discriminated at job-hunting, or what is required uniform during convocation, or what you can wear while in campus or posting sentries at every entrance and dark corner (why are campuses in Malaysia like gated communities?), why don’t you just frigging back off and let college students be college students?

YAB-YAB sekalian, here’s a clue to fostering the growth of intelligent life-forms in this country. Let us think, let us live. Let us all have a life.


PS. Speaking of pranks, Jeff Ooi’s last week was a gem. (http://www.jeffooi.com/2006/04/to_the_dogs.php) Did I bite it? Hook, line and sinker. Still bloody gullible.

Who how

Shucks, Tenaga should have harnessed this. Once every five years, an immense gush of hot air spews out of Parliament, enough to run mega-turbines to power the country for months. It happened again on Friday afternoon and lasted for about two hours.

That’s how I see the 9MP. Lots of numbers and statistics thrown about, lots of “will be…”s, and lots of skimming the surface. But no road map. It is a wish list, an advertising campaign, a morale booster, a buffet spread, anything, anything but a Plan.

In my book, Plans tell you how something gets done. A Plan doesn’t happen at the flick of a switch – it takes into account context, history, strengths and weaknesses. You do a ton of prep work before a plan is fortified and ready. And most of all, when the Plan is announced, you would have assembled a team rumbling and ready to deliver.

It’s all about who and how. They define a Plan’s depth and credibility.

Especially so in Pak Lah’s administration, blazing with the highest voting majority in the country’s history, bursting with the promises the rakyat has longed to hear, yet delivering pittance; backtracking, dimming down, spiraling back into the muddy days of the old.

I was in the car when the radio began broadcasting the PM’s speech. I was lost somewhere between Puchong and Kelang Lama which made the ride worthwhile. With every proposal made, with every allocation of RMxxx million, with every ‘will be’ uttered, I’d wonder: “How? Who?”

It was first amusing, then tiring. Then the recent picture flashed back again, the picture I hate, the picture of a mega-spending, non-accountable Malaysia – man, the speech must’ve been like blood to the sharks in the ‘hood. Cronyhood. Feeding frenzy for the next five years.

All these gift-wrapped under a ‘vision’ of Delivery and Implementation.

If recent socio-political events in Malaysia are an indication of the team responsible for the 9MP, I’m eagerly waiting. For the next general elections, that is.

With Harvard suits hired to prescribe to us what we probably already know and more about our public delivery system;
with tudungs as uniforms;
with Bank Negara interfering with Southern Bank’s future;
with Hishamuddin and gang’s objection to the IPCMC;
with Nazri’s ‘Suhakam will have no bite’;
with Zam’s sermons on nationalism;
with calls to change our lifestyle;
with plans for a crooked bridge;
with Digi-no-3G;
with Scomi’s bus contracts;
with an LCCT mind-bogglingly built 20km away from KLIA’s main terminal;
with 50 Umno Youth members giving MP Loh Seng Kok a protest letter for asking for more balanced history books;
with Selayang councilors on a lawatan sambil belajar in South Africa and MPPJ sports club reaping profits from billboard advertisements

how can I have faith in the delivery of the 9MP?

As all things good and foul must come to an end, the earnest closure to the 9MP came in the form of a prayer, choked in emotion:

“…grant us our prayers; guide us to righteousness and to the path that You bless, provide us with people that are sincere, trustworthy, noble and honest; responsible in building a developed nation – building a united people – we forever seek Your blessings, “Towards Excellence, Glory and Distinction”.



I’m surprised at that.

Pak Lah! Your prayers have long been answered and continue to be answered today. There are many Malaysians who are sincere, trustworthy, noble and honest; who want to be responsible in building a developed nation – who want to be a united people. Not many in your team though. And sadly, many too have left – thousands of intelligent, skilled, compassionate people – but not because they are disloyal. Rather they were denied, dejected and disillusioned by previous Malaysia Plans that hinged on equally great promises but delivered lard to the already fat.

Will yours be any different? Who? How?

Feathers

The garden is damp this morning. The snails seem gleeful, moss succulent and green on the brick ledge. It had rained hard the night before. I amble over to the front terrace, stare absentmindedly at the bed of gravel with a mug of Indonesian coffee in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.

Something shifts amongst the branches of one of the Murraya trees. I squint at a clump of organic matter. Hadn’t noticed it there before. It is a nest. Must be new. There is a bird in the nest. It cocks its head here and there in jerky movements. Alert, awake; birds always look alert – they have no bedroom eyes, no Angelina Jolie eyes.

I am thrilled to the bone. Happy as a clam. A bird chooses to share its nest in my home, a simple terrace house with a tiny front yard. This home in the heart of sun-scorched, rat-infested, car-ruled, urban-as-you-can-get SS2, a bird actually thought it was decent real estate. I inch closer, but still five arm-spans away. Time dissolves away. Just the bird and I. Who are you, buddy?

The nest is small – about the size of my mug – made of dried grass and twigs, mostly from the yard. I don’t sweep away fallen leaves nor clear grass cuttings. There is even a stray raffia string woven in amongst the organic stuff with a ten-inch leftover trailing in the breeze. This bird doesn’t fight technology.

The Murrayas in the garden are not tall. I have three of them, and keep them pruned to about six feet high and they provide definition to the garden space. Also as a treat to the olfactory senses; when in bloom, the house smells awesome especially at night. The nest, built without too much finesse between two branches, is just about eye level. Strange that a bird would build here at this height. Strange. Maybe it has not been acquainted with the neighborhood stray cats which leap up 8-foot-high walls without blinking.

I stare at the bird. It cocks one eye my way. It has a white-feathered head the size of a bottle cap and a black beak that’s slender and curved. Its skin is black too. I do not know its species. Love nature, but bird-watching hadn't my cup of tea. The rest of its body is hidden inside the nest. I inch closer for a better look.

Whoosh! It darts off in flight. I spill coffee all over. I fail to catch its trail, still staring at the shaking leaves. I’m tempted to peek inside the nest but I remember an old wives’ tale about birds and nest – that once a bird realizes its home is invaded it’ll abandon it. I withdraw. This bird is more than welcome to stay.

In the shroud of deceit, cover-ups, bigotry, incompetence and stupidity that I abhor in government and that left me so pissed this past two weeks to even write, a little bird came by the tiny garden, built a nest, and for five minutes, collapsed the weariness of my world. Feathered tonic. Neat.

It is evening. I peer over my dusty balcony onto the Murraya bush. From the floor above, one can make out the profile of the nest amidst the leaves. I hold my breath. There is movement – that jerky movement of the head again. The bird has returned. It didn’t abandon the nest.

Good.

Dirt under the carpet

“Duduk, duduk,” said the Syabas technical officer. He was what you’d describe as peramah. Jovial, middle-aged, a simple man in a blue Syabas uniform.

By the end of 20 minutes, I was reaffirmed of two things:
1) Design is a tee-eeeny wee-eeeeny fraction of what it takes to be an architect in Malaysia; you are a reluctant running dog most of the time. Design purist? Hahaha, try another country.
2) Pak Lah has done effectively nothing about corruption in this country. From big fish to small fry. Umm, correction – he has simply done nothing. Period.

Like the Syabas officer, I too am a simple man. All I want is to stay alive for awhile, see the house I am designing get built. The bureaucracy is there to make sure you don't enjoy it. It is a faceless black hole whose answer to every question is a murmur: "Maybe, maybe not."

Sometime in January, the Majlis Perbandaran Kajang’s One-Stop Centre (OSC) had written a letter saying the application to build a house had been approved on condition that the architect obtains a Letter of Endorsement from each of the three autonomous bodies: Syarikat Bekalan Air Selangor (Syabas), Jabatan Perkhidmatan Pembetungan (JPP or Sewerage Dept) and MPKj’s own Jabatan Pembangunan Persekitaran which oversees the sanitary layout and application.

The letter further stated that all three departments had given their verbal approval in an earlier OSC meeting. “Looks like we have approval to start on the house,” I told my clients. We were happy about the relative expedience. Or so it seemed.

It seemed then all that remained was the formality of obtaining the Endorsement Letters, pass on a copy to MPKj, and we’d be issued an approval to start construction in a short time. Dream on, kiddo.

“Ah, ada perkara yang kena pinda lah. Duduk, duduk,” said the Syabas officer at the Ulu Langat Branch in Kajang. He opened the coldwater supply drawings as I sat dumbfounded. It was a diagram which showed the schematic layout of pipes and water-tanks, details of a typical water meter, all done in single-line, coloured and labeled with specifications.

I interjected showing him a copy of OSC’s conditional approval letter, and pointed to the line which says: (iii) Syarikat Bekalan Air Selangor Sdn Bhd – lulus secara lisan.

“Itu cuma secara lisan. Tak kira. Ha, sekarang ni tengok…..” the officer continued. Among other things, I was told to label my water tanks this way, and only this way:
Nominal Capacity: x gallons
Effective Capacity: y gallons
Type of Tank: z

It didn’t matter that in the original I had given all that information and more including the actual dimensions of the water-tanks. I was told to label every pipe although I had chosen to label systems of pipes like how we’d do it in the States eg primary incoming, primary outgoing, feeder pipes to fixtures – just so the drawing is not cluttered with crisscrossing arrows, a golden rule in working drawings. I was also told Syabas now requires a different set of Construction Notes to accompany the drawing, and the officer passes me an A4 sheet full of notes: “Ini you kena taip masuk semula dalam drawing, OK? Yang lama punye semua tak pakai lagi.”

As it turned out, nothing was in error that could result in the loss of life, just graphic modifications. A couple of arrows here, two colons there, use red colour for the Syabas main pipe etc.

When he was done, I asked why all this wasn’t brought up months earlier when I was making the submission. Another officer had looked through the drawings then and accepted it. “Oh, pengarah buat rule baru la.” It didn’t matter if you had submitted months earlier, the demi-god pangarah’s rules are retroactively applied to all projects.

What else to do but to take home the drawings, revise, reprint, re-colour, refold, and resubmit. That was two weeks ago.

I was lamenting to a contractor friend about all this. He said what I didn’t want to hear: “They want money lah. Let me meet them.” I was boiling. My client said he was potentially losing RM10k for every month delayed. Give it a shot, he said.

Friday evening I get a call. “Wah, Syabas pegawai very direct,” said my contractor friend. “He sat down and straightaway asked: Adakah?”

How many “Adakah”s lie ahead, I cannot tell. I can only smell rot.


* * * * *


And so it goes. Extra over for services rendered. Funny how Pak Lah goes about like he’s forgotten what he promised in the budding days of his premiership. Those rosy, vote-earning promises of tackling corruption. That Syabas person is but one of a string of bodies sitting in the interface of the construction industry and sucking money like leeches.

Want more stories?

When I was in a mainstream architecture office, I witnessed a senior Bomba officer upon completing his CF inspection tell the contractor and developer: “We will be having a golf tournament next month. So we’d like to request a donation of RM2,000 cash from you for prizes lah.”

After a TNB substation inspection, the developer of the project I was handling was seen handing over a humongous Hari Raya hamper to the TNB chap at a shadowed portion of the building. Who knows what envelope was in the hamper. It's so commonplace, people find it blase.

The boss of a main contracting company once told me: “In a typical condo project, we hand out bribes of RM30K-40K a month to the many different authorities. When we first started, I thought I could be clean and straight. Run an outfit like the Japanese and Koreans, you know. But even if you play by the rules, keep your truck wash trough clean, fog the area regularly, have harnesses and safety nets, they can and will find something to close you down…. The odd nail sticking out, the odd debris lying around, workers’ quarters.

“Money keeps them away. Let's us do our job. And you know what though? This money has blood on it. Remember the incident of falling steel formwork at Hartamas? If you ask me, the blame reaches very far and wide.”

While at the old workplace, a colleague would tell about how blatant bribes are sought these days at both the Planning and Building Depts at MPPJ. It’s simply a queen’s nest that's ISO 9002 certified. This colleague had first-hand experience. At the foyer of the Planning Dept is a desk with a tag ‘ACA’. Nobody seems to man it. Not long after you greet the officer, he’ll tell you: “Ai say, sports club mau jersey baru lah. Macam? Boss boleh bagi hadiah gah?” They’re no longer coy about it. “Kalau mau cepat, kena bayar upah lah,” even the receptionist communicated to her.

I love architecture and I want to live an honest life. Simple as that. If this is what it takes to practise in Malaysia eternally, if the government continues to be in denial about this cancer, if one has to continue to conform that low, then I shan’t be in Malaysia. Simple as that.


* * * * *

Post script

Among the many officials who deal with members of the building industry, I have met one who stands out as a true gem.

Ms Ong Ay Lee is Assistant Director at the Jabatan Perancang Bandar of Majlis Bandaraya Melaka Bersejarah (MBMB). She cares about her work and Melaka. Once at her office discussing the planning parameters for a parcel of land in the outskirts of the city, we got to talking about development in general. My boss had remarked that Melaka could do with a boost.

“Only if it is managed well, yes. But do you think we should follow KL’s model? I don’t. I have a sister in Cheras. I’m close to her but dread visiting her because of the environment there. But that’s just me.

“There is something in Melaka’s character we want to continue – finer grain, more soulful. We want development to perpetuate that quality. Many a time, big-budget offers have come this way – Singapore money, KL money – and they want to build these flashy townships. Thirty-, forty-storey towers. Whenever I am in the position, I tell them no.”

She spoke about the ideas of Michael Pyatok, urban community planner and champion of affordable housing, who had just been in Malaysia. She is well-read, informed of historic precedents, and has guts to hold her ground.

Her phone rang then. It was an architect reminding her of a CF inspection and offering to pick her up. “No lah. Don’t pick me up. I can find my own way there. I’ll be there in a half hour…. No, no. Really, you don’t have to pick me up. I know Melaka. Melaka is my town lah.”

Amazingly, those were about the same words she used some months earlier. Then, it was regarding a project of ours, although she didn't know it. The contractor had called her on CF inspection day and offered a ride. "No, don't bother. I'll find my way there," she had said. And true enough, she arrived in her basic Proton, did her inspection crisply and then left. In a week, the Surat Sokongan was issued.

Professional babe.

Ms Ong Ay Lee is my hero, a beacon in the murky civil service. I hope she keeps her strength for a long, long time. And I hope she becomes an example, never an oddity.

Crude plans beyond the barrel

I’m surprised given the current climate on world oil and its 30 sen per litre impact here, our government has yet to announce a comprehensive strategy on alternative fuels.

Public transport is one thing – yes, it dearly needs help – but the bigger issue is our dependency on a single fuel commodity… that crude thing called oil.

The relevant economies of the world have long begun to think outside of the barrel. Even more importantly, they have acted on it.

Sweden aims to be free from oil-dependency come 2020 (now, that’s vision for you). In the US, hybrid car sales are generally doubling every year. The streets of Shanghai hum with electric scooters. Seven out of every 10 new cars in Brazil run on ethanol. And in charming Siem Reap, Cambodia, you can now choose to travel around the temples of Angkor on a rented electric bike.

As anybody who follows real news would know, alternative fuels are no longer alternative. A new word shall someday soon emerge to describe this phenomenon. Thanks to advances made from fuel cells to biofuel, oil will lose its totemic relevance.

Meanwhile in Malaysia, a beautiful country with substantial resources, run by a government full on promises but empty on delivery, has yet to put forward a blueprint on it’s future with fuel.

We, the People, want a plan.

We want to know where we’re headed and how we’ll handle the signs of the times. I’m a dreamer sure (I don’t dream about sending Malaysians to space, though), but I don’t think it takes an economist to say we need to diversify our fuel source. And soon; like yesterday.

The government said it too:

“The Malaysian Palm Oil Board (MPOB) and the Malaysia Energy Center have joined hands to increase the public's awareness of Renewable Energy as a fuel source.

In May 2001, the government, through the Ministry of Energy, Communications and Multimedia launched the Small Renewable Energy Power program (SREP) which applies to all sources of energy including biomass, biogas, municipal waste, solar, mini-hydro and wind.

The SREP program is aimed at encouraging the exploitation of Renewable Energy sources as the fifth fuel resource under the country's fuel diversification policy and coincides with the industry's effort for zero waste in the oil palm industry.”

Talk. Is. Cheap.

Again in October 2004, Najib announced a Cabinet Committee on Alternative Fuels has been formed, but has nothing much to show today. It is regrettable that even with the writing on the wall, the government has failed to effectively act on relieving the reliance on fossil fuels.

SREP is not succeeding because the logistics of transferring and converting biomass to electricity in power plants miles away is too immense. It focuses on high-tech, typical of “gaya mau”, wanting to run before learning to crawl.

Sources on alternative fuel range from big-budget industries to do-it-yourself strategies. In the local context, we can get some of these going pronto to relieve folks who are hardest hit in petrol price hikes.

If control was kept local using affordable methods, we’re talking gold here.

Set up cooperatives in alternative fuel to deal with this hardship especially in the rural areas where money is short but not material resource. A cottage industry producing domestic fuel is very feasible. Biofuel – produced from crops, biomass and livesock – can provide a low-tech option for local consumption eg powering diesel machines, generators, and motorboats. Think of it as a 21st century version of the charcoal and firewood cottage industry or the kerosene industry of old.

All it takes is education, organization and a genuine heart.

In fact, if resource is abundant, these cottage industries could transform the material into semi-processed form for easier transport and processing at power plants and fuel refineries and earn a tidy side-income. Think of the smokehouses and mangles shared by small-holder rubber plantations in early Malaya.

True progress is forever lateral; and cottage industries are a relevant component in that pursuit.

And what about electric bikes and scooters? It may be what our cities need to supplement an improved public transportation system. Hey, I'd like to get one for my shorter trips.

Unfortunately, I am not equipped to be constructive. There is as always a lack of information on the side of the government about what is really going on. Oftentimes it’s one chest-thumping announcement at a launch, then all goes quiet. And the cronies go to feed.

All I ask is a good plan.

A thoughtful plan – described lucidly for public feedback with a team who can deliver. Something that addresses in breadth and elegance the issue of fuel in society. Public transport is only a subset of that.

As you know, a sincere vision gains more mileage without the need for spin such as “change our lifestyle”, Ong Ka Ting riding the LRT, and “35 sen for a teh tarik”. Politicians are obliged to rise above that.

Khidmat Negara Ver 2.0

The last time I saw Isaac, he was flushed with life. Over bottles of microbrew, he related his experiences at Habitat for Humanity, Portland OR. He had come back to college-town Eugene for a short break, and to catch up with his Malaysian housemate. Isaac was helping to build houses for the lower income; that’s what the non-profit organization is all about. He’d made new buddies there, he told me, and he was amazed at volunteer turnouts especially on weekends.

“Guys were just streaming in with hammers and saws just asking if there was anything they could help out. Fat, fair, scrawny, they all came. And damn, some of those women can build as fine a wall if there ever was one,” he said, “There was much love.”

At some point in that autumn evening of feel-good stories, it struck me that this was what my country was all about, too – you know, the whole gotong-royong, Rukun Tetangga thing. At least my teenaged memory of it, rose-tinted no doubt. In my memory, all that seemed a very natural process back home. Berat sama dipikul, ringan sama dijinjing. Ya ‘bang, berganding bahu.

I mean, those were the years before Malaysia Boleh, before the continued refraction of the light of our people into race and religion, before the big-money scandals, before the sacking of Chief Judge Salleh Abbas and the subsequent emasculation of the Judiciary, before many, many things.

“There was much love,” Isaac had said. And now being back, I’m a mite sad. And I’m just picking through the fragments wondering if there may be a bona fide path we can take to being more integrated again. You know, those Sudirman days, those P Ramlee and Saloma days. I think there is. I think it lies in the hearts of youths.

Along the muddy banks of Malaysia’s many government schemes lies a gem waiting to be really discovered. If harnessed well, I believe Khidmat Negara could possibly pave the way to the ideals you and I uphold for this land. Its current form is limpid and reaching a dead end. Rather it will take creativity and will to reach its true potential. Plus learning from others, if we’re not too proud that is.

Which brings me back to Isaac. Isaac hooked up with Habitat via AmeriCorps (http://www.americorps.gov/about/ac/index.asp), one of the most inspired ideas to emerge from the Clinton Administration back in 1993. It is the US’ version of national service without the military crap. Instead it focuses on community service and rewards each participant with education funds. So at the end of the day, my buddy Isaac came out richer in soul and lighter in financial debt. Win-win, if you ask me.

We can take a cue from all this.

When Malaysia first mooted Khidmat Negara (http://www.khidmatnegara.gov.my/utama.htm), it was framed with noble values. In 2003, the government espoused the virtues of such a program with a five-point objective:

• Develop patriotism


• Enhance unity


• Instill caring spirit in society


• Produce well-rounded people


• Reinforce good values

Now, let’s ask ourselves this – can this objective only be met through a military-style modus? I can understand a military-based national service in Singapore. It is an elite citystate not entirely in sync with its Nusantara cousins. I can understand Israel and Korea. I don’t understand Malaysia’s approach. Really, why did we choose the regimented path? It strikes me that there wasn’t enough rigour exercised in thinking through the program.

To make national service fruitful, we must first dig deep into our society’s psyche and core values and ask what is the cultural makeup of Malaysia. Who are our youths and what are their characteristics, their aspirations and concerns? How do we meld these together? Only with such findings can we come up with a scheme that is genuine to our goals of integration.

Alas, not equipped with any solid data, I can only intuit an alternative idea. It’s something I’ve been pondering over a bit and suffers from rough edges. For lack of expertise, I shan’t try to sand those down. Just explore the core idea.

Overview
I think our national service should be structured more like a Liberal Arts stint in real life in real Malaysia – sorta learn more about the world and yourself while giving back to society. It should offer as much exposure to individuals who are otherwise limited because of family funds or opportunities to see and experience the many layers of our land and its people. It should invite youths to explore and tap their skills.

Call it an internship on Practical Civics. Formal education in school supplies the basics, developing real values come from direct experience.

Many essential and community services in Malaysia need support but are not getting it. Whether because of funds, manpower or imagination, we find ourselves stunted. National service can help plug unique gaps that exist in our society: the maintenance, governance, research and development of these services. It should seize the booster shot of energy that youths bring. Hence, Khidmat Negara should be moved out of the Defence Ministry’s portfolio and into the Ministry of Youth and Sports. And it should be a program of substance not patriotic songs, physical training and foot-drills.

National service should be lengthened to approximately a year, say. To be fulfilling, it has to be substantial. Three months doesn’t get anybody anywhere.

But first, who are we. What are our blocks?

The youths among us – General Observations
Compass points: Compared to developed countries, I believe in general we find our bearings later in life. It's tied to how and where we are brought up. It was certainly true for me. In Form 6, I wanted to be a doctor la, an engineer la, Indiana Jones la …I honestly didn’t know what I wanted. Same went for many of my friends, and I suspect the same goes for many teenagers today.

Talent suppressed: I met many people in school and university who were really talented musicians, dancers, sportsmen, or artists who ended up doing medicine, law, economics or a runs a gerai in a pasar malam. Kim Loke was a fantastic footballer, captain of his state team. He became a civil engineer. Adnan, whom I knew in Form 2, could paint the most wonderful portraits. Last I heard he was selling nasi campur in Kuantan. Many among us choose to turn away from our calling for a more secure profession. No market lah. I think it’s because because there were not many avenues. I still hear news about these folks every now and then and many have switched dreams and are busy feeding their family. For them, the music died. Our socio-economic landscape could do with more diversity.

Lack of exposure: The urban-rural divide is more acute as cities become more sophisticated while the sleepy villages remain their charming selves. Consequently, one half is increasingly ignorant of the other. And a residue of this is suspicion.

In one stroke, national service can and should try to address these issues.

Flexibility in Structure – Providing Choice:
I do not agree with the current camp setup where youths are put through a regiment of modules. It’s Cold War thinking. It’s monoculture.

Conversely, we should believe and invest in our in-built diversity to strive for dynamic integration. The philosophy ought to be about way-finding. If a person is allowed to pursue his/her interests, you’ve just turbocharged that person’s life. At most, conscripts go through a brief orientation period – say two weeks – before they are posted to the department or organization of their choice.

The keyword is Choice. Good structures typically accommodate a larger set of options and possibilities and NS ought to be modeled that way. Involve as many organizations – federal, state and local government, GLCs and non-profits – as practically possible. This also decentralizes the budget needed to run the overall program.

Because some services will be more in demand than others, there should be a ballot method with substitute choices.

Choice of Service
Conscripts get to opt for the kind of service they want. Clearly, there are many ways to organize the categories. Below is only an idea and, I admit, a clumsy one. The bodies mentioned are only a sampling.

Essential services: Customs and immigration, forest rangers, libraries, police force, fire department, Rukun Tetangga and residents committee, local councils, JKR, Drainage and Irrigation, education and schools, Lands and Mines, postal service, Telekom, KTM, LRT, public transport.
Media, arts and crafts: TV and radio stations, Bernama, Kraftangan.
Social work and healthcare: Hospices, orphanages, halfway houses, hospitals.
Sports: Various sports agencies and associations.
Agriculture: Felda, Felcra, RRIM, FRIM, fisheries.
NGOs: Sahabat Alam Malaysia, Red Crescent Society, UNHCR, World Wildlife Foundation, Consumers Association of Penang, Suaram.

The scope of duties in each body can vary. The Land and Mines may want to upgrade its national land survey but have not been able to embark because of manpower and funds. Taman Negara may want to continue its inventory of the flora and fauna in Sarawak’s Mulu Caves. The squash association may have dreams of an energetic outreach program but needs manpower.

It is then the duty of these organizations to package the scope well. They have to if they want to draw the right youths. It is the task of Jabatan Latihan Khidmat Negara to collate these offers into a neat understandable packet, not unlike a university brochure listing all its programs. In fact, JLKN's role approximates a big university's administration.

In the longer term, talent, skill and temperament should ideally be matched. The youths are now a resource. They are now relevant.

Choice of Duration
There should be options for a focused stint versus that for a varied experience.

Single-Post Option: For conscripts who are clear in what they want out of the program. They only seek to pursue that certain activity. A young musician may want to be attached to Dewan Filharmonik, well and good. A sea-lover just wants to be in the Navy, all’s well.

Three-Post Option: For those who want to see more of our land and experience various services. Each conscript signs up for three different assignments of about four months each. For instance, he may choose the Forest Rangers, then a rural hospital, then KTM.

Choice of Location
Conscripts get to choose where they’d like to get attached with at least half the period in a setting different from their current situation. A rural girl has to spend half her service in a city setting and vice-versa. Sabah and Sarawak will get equal opportunity both ways.

Choice of Deferment
Conscripts can spread out the program over three years if they so choose. Perhaps many may opt to overlap with their college experience – using the year-end break and hence gather more focus in their chosen field of study. Yet others, early school-leavers perhaps, may use it to find if there’s another vocation that suits them.

Responsibility to Civil Defence
Conscripts will be mobilized during any civil defence exercise depending on location and magnitude. These may be in the form of natural disaster relief like the Boxing Day tsunami, drought, the TTDI Jaya flood, forest fires, landslides, and possibly bird flu pandemic. They provide the most immediate support to relief efforts from ferrying supplies to first aid.

Net Gain – Lateral Development, Exposure and a Woven Nation
It would be super if NS, like AmeriCorps, could be coupled with the pursuit of higher or continued education via fee vouchers. I believe we could do our country a lot of good this way. We would have provided for a far richer education while simultaneously upgrading our network of services. Our civil service would be conceivably more efficient, our core values actualised, our culture more textured and diverse.

We can begin to cultivate an encyclopedia of experiences based on the collective. We would have ploughed and prepped the fields of the various sectors and can now dream of real innovation.

Out in the swamps of Morib, an 18-year-old girl helps to revitalize a mangrove swamp under a revamped Khidmat Negara. At 20, she decides to major in Marine Biology because she’s excited about it. Up north in the country, a boy helps RTM producers put together a documentary on rice-farming. He may just be carrying cables for the film crew, he may be a makeup artist. But at 20, he’s in film school. In a school for the handicapped, a blind girl helps disabled children read and write. She may end up the prime-mover for a more disabled-friendly built environment.

Of course, Khidmat Negara will not be the miracle cure for our problems. Many will go through it unaffected. Many will still drift around without firm bearings. But it is about placing doors where once there were walls. Whosoever reaches to open, opens into a renewed Wawasan 2020. The net effect can be just wonderful.

Mean it

Sometime last month, Sweden announced: We aim to be an oil-free economy by 2020.

That’s ambitious even by its own lofty standards. But there’s something to be said, rather taken to heart, about this country of nine million people. Sweden doesn’t boast much. Nor does it do the sales and propaganda talk – no ‘Truly Europe’ slogans, no tallest building bids, no Stockholm-jaya; no need. Just Sweden, land of Volvo, Saab, SKF, ABB, Husqvarna, Electrolux, Ikea…. The list goes on. Other than that it pretty much keeps quiet and prefers to let its work and play do the talking.

That’s why it’s taken seriously. So when the Swedish minister of sustainable development Mona Sahlin said: “Our dependency on oil should be broken by 2020,” the world sat up and listened.

And justifiably so. It has a veritable track record for getting things done. Not just in industry and services, but the sciences, arts, sports and the humanities – think Alfred Nobel, Linnaeus, Celsius, Hasselblad, Abba, Ace of Base, Ingmar Bergman, Bjorn Borg, Stefan Edberg, Annika Sorenstam… I’m out of breath.

The point is not about Sweden although I am fascinated by the Scandinavian states in general. The point is about doing it right. Less talk already. Nine million people in a country about 1-1/2 times the size of Malaysia, when enabled and given the chance, will collectively walk the walk.

*********

The Malaysian government on Tuesday cut back its petrol subsidy by 30 sen for every litre. In that one move, it stands to save RM4.4 billion which it intends to inject into “national development” projects, especially public transportation. Najib, who chairs the Cabinet Committee on Fuel Prices, went live on TV yesterday and talked the talk. Whether this government will walk is another story.

I am skeptical. The government of Malaysia does not have a good track record when it comes to getting things done. In the first place it often lacks a solid plan, something which ties into a holistic goal. Proton – set up to jumpstart a national automotive industry – was a poor idea from the beginning. That was probably the beginning of Mahathir’s heroic vision and mega-whatever. Back in 1985, we did not have the necessary history and culture to handle such an industry and it continues to haunt us today.

See, we’re plagued by two major syndromes which we’ve failed to tackle all this while – “Gaya Mau” and “Aiyah”. It has made us desire a lot but not work for it. There’s a coarse, half-assed quality to many things that we do. Our buildings are half-assed, our infrastructure is half-assed, our civil service is half-assed… Instead it has formed a habit of leaving hands outstretched for perks. It also makes us talk a lot. A lot of it, so it turns out is rubbish. We’ve been spammed. Cekap, Bersih, Amanah. Cemerlang, Gemilang, Terbilang. Engineered to Exhilarate. Petaling Jaya – Ke Arah Bandar Bestari. Selangor the Developed State.

Talk, here, is very cheap.

The government, since administrations past, has set the pace of broken promises and dreams that are out of sync with the culture and too big for it to maintain. Wayang, they are good at, not much thereafter. KLIA is a farce as an international hub; you seen the arrival and departure screens and how they are dominated by MAS and AirAsia flights? So much for “Bringing the World to Malaysia”. It boasts state-of-the-art equipment but we only hear of security breaches and systems breakdown. Cyberjaya is a farce with a museum called the E-Village, but it’s a nice lallang field otherwise. And mark my words, Putrajaya will be a bigger joke than the lifeless Shah Alam – evidence of simple urban design lessons yet unlearned. Bakun Dam? Adoi. The list can go on, and I’d be out of breath.

Talk, talk, talk. Just talk. It has become arguably Malaysia’s most successful national campaign to date. It’s so successful, this lifestyle has seeped right down to the grassroots. I mean, try naming 10 people you trust to really deliver at work. I can’t. Instead, I get responses like “I’ll call you back with the info” and you don’t hear from them again or “It’ll be finished in two weeks” but it takes two months.

And when it’s not possible to talk you to death, they’ll kill you with its paper equivalent – bureaucracy. Consider this: FedEx can send a parcel to Timbuktu in 48 hours with just the pertinent information entered in a small form. The company has a new tagline: Relax, it’s FedEx. It strives to live up to that claim.

Now, to add a tiny terrace to a semi-D house in KL, you have to prepare a bundle of drawings and documents for planning approval before submitting for a building permit. If you’re lucky, the entire two-stage process alone will take six months before a hole can even be dug. DBKL has a tagline too – Bersedia Menyumbang, Bandaraya Cemerlang. Nobody takes that seriously.

It all points to one thing. The government has a lot of ground to make up if it is serious about the people. It has put into words its blueprint for a better Malaysia. Integrity, transparency, all those feel-good verses. Meanwhile, tenders remained closed, local councilors still go to faraway exotic places to look at toilets, newspapers get suspended, a new chicken slaughterhouse in Selayang will cost RM20 million (gadzooks!)… the list can go on, and I’d be out of breath.

By all means, reduce the petrol subsidies. I don’t fault its rationale. I fault its implementation and am very curious about its motives.

If the government had been serious about public transport, it would’ve initiated dialogues prior to the petrol price hike long ago, not as a result of it. There would have been a campaign in full momentum by now, not just warming up with the announcement of a Cabinet Committee on Wednesday. These after-the-fact moves are not convincing at all and, if anything, prove to being plain silly.

With RM4.4 billion in the purse, I’d really wish those Boleh folks showed more heart. I really wish they’d act.

I really wish I could believe.

Context and intent

I have no problem with the NST cartoon.

It was a commentary on the current state of the world after the Infamous 12 made a lot of people hurt and angry. In the anger, thousands had hit the streets in protests with placards bearing strong words – slay, behead, death. Buildings were stoned, stormed and burned down. People’s lives were taken – not by accident but killed out of belligerence.

This one didn’t mock the good Prophet – that was the reason for the original cartoon furor wasn’t it? – it mocked the belligerence of zealots. The same breed of people who'd kill Christians in Sulawesi, bomb Bali, and to a lesser extent tear down an Orang Asli church in Johor a couple of days before Christmas last year.

Like any typical cartoon, it was multivalent. If any person so chooses, s/he can almost always find an angle or a reason to get outraged. It’s not very difficult at all. Women-libbers can get incensed at cavemen-drag-woman cartoons, dog-lovers will hate Garfield etc etc.

I am no fan of NST – nor any local mainstream media for that matter except The Sun – but no, I have no problem with that particular cartoon. And I am relieved the government did not suspend the publication or roll off a head or two.

I do have a problem with certain parties and how they perceive the Non Sequitur cartoon. Anything with an M and ends with a D can boil their blood. Context doesn’t seem to matter to them.

Well, context matters helluva lot. Likewise, intent.

Without establishing the two in any situation would be poor judgment. What was the Non Sequitur cartoon actually saying? What was it mocking if indeed it was? Was the NST being deliberately spiteful towards Muslims in running that cartoon? Was it being doubly spiteful in running it again with a commentary?

I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed its editorial stance in not standing down for what it believed in on Day 2 of the saga.

I don't care if it's Umno's mouthpiece, every media in this country is some political party's mouthpiece. That's a given. I don't care if Jeff Ooi's hurt and Aisehman's sad. Just this - if anybody cares to do the right thing, I'm behind you. If only NST continues its boldness in tackling national issues, I would start buying the publication again.

Context and intent. I learned how important they are in design school; I’m seeing how just as critical they are in law and enforcement.

Which is why I still vehemently oppose the draconian suspension of the other two dailies, the Sarawak Tribune and Guang Ming. The intent to hurt was just not there and the context in which the pictures were carried actually gained more dimension and credence with the graphics attached.

It actually acknowledged that we are apes with the ability to abstract and hence judge if Danish paper Jylland-Posten did wrong. Or whether religious zealots were running amok for thin reasons. The newspapers’ action did not deserve such punishment.

Good thing the government didn’t go there the third time.

Fresh air above the nonsense

Politics in Malaysia turned around a corner yesterday. The quaking mainstream media however stood frozen in the dark ages by choosing not to report it. Who can blame them, after all they are currently an utterly confused bunch.

Trust Malaysiakini, uncowed by any ZAM-bitions, to write:

'The race for votes has led political parties like Umno and PAS to use Islam as a platform and do things which ‘we do not believe in’ at the expense of the nation, said a minister.

Minister in the Prime Minister’s Department Mohd Nazri Abdul Aziz made this shocking remark in response to a question at a dialogue with lawyers on whether the country was pandering to the whims and fancies of Islamic hardliners. The de facto law minister said the Malay-based Umno was forced to do the same as Islamic-opposition party PAS in using religion as a platform to garner votes. “We are doing a disservice to our nation, we are led into doing something that we don’t believe,” added Nazri, who is also an Umno supreme council member.'


More importantly, finally a minister with the integrity to call a spade a spade. For the first time in a long while, you have a high-ranking Umno person – a Supreme Council member and full minister – speaking about the inherent folly of playing up the case of religion.

In this land of political wimps and zealots, that takes balls.

And it is balls such as this that will pave the way for a better Malaysia. Nazri’s message: “The problem among Muslims is that we rely on people who are knowledgeable (Islamic scholars) but people like you and me are secular… So speak up.”

Nazri Aziz has come quite a ways from his “bloody racist” days of June last year. He stood up in defence of Teresa Kok, MP for Seputeh, when accusations were getting wild and idiotic during the earsquats saga. Nazri has also said he would like to see the University and University College Act removed.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

Now the other face. Why didn’t the media carry this story? Was it deemed too sensitive for the news palate these days? Have we come down to that, Zam-banged mute for fear of mutiny? Are we as a masyarakat so fragile? Can I even talk about this in conversation with my Malay-Muslim friend and speak honestly how I feel?

I see this scenario as one that captures the developing differentiation ongoing within the government – an unfolding drama between feudal conservatives fed and bred on Mahathirian diet and the emerging liberals who believe in a freer, but responsible Malaysia. The saga will go on, slowly churning the cultural milk of this country.

Dialogues will continue to take place not shunned, I hope. In fact, it must. One of my favourite Malaysians is Marina Mahathir for she has a beautiful mind. She has this to say:


‘Then we have this wonderful word “sensitive” in our vocabulary, which in Malaysia, means “don’t talk about it”. We give no quarter to the thought that people might be more mature and resilient than we think, and can discuss issues without resorting to mental breakdowns or violence.

Perhaps it is the people who deem things sensitive who do not have the facility to deal with things in a calm and rational manner. That’s why they assume everyone else will be the same.

… Instead of over-using the word “sensitive” as a codeword for censorship, why not use the word “respectful” and really mean it?

We should say that people of all faiths, races and genders should be respectful of one another in every situation. We should be able to discuss anything at all as long as the ground rules are that we speak respectfully to one another.

But most of all, respectful discussion should not be limited to a tiny space only. It should extend to everything that human beings can discuss. Only then can democracy be meaningful.’


Heart and balls. Hear, hear, the voice of moderate Muslims. Such attitudes will certainly get us farther than duct-tape over our mouths.

Western-style journalism, Zam?

The BBC carries the story about five bodies pulled out from a lake in Selayang. They had been migrant workers.

Some workers in the area said there had been an immigration raid by Rela a few nights before and things got ugly.... as in thug ugly.


BBC journalist Jonathan Kent writes:

"He could not see the Rela officers in the darkness so I asked whether he had heard them speaking Malay.

"Yes, there were, there were," he said. "The police were shouting: 'Come out come out, if you run away we will kill you'.

"Those caught in their hands were beaten by two or three policemen. They treated them like cattle. Their voices were very haughty and arrogant. Their voices were like soldiers and policemen." The first of the bodies was found later that day."


I didn't even see a mention of this in Bernama or our local papers, and Kent makes a note of this, too.

The BBC report - a case of Western-style journalism by Info Minister Zam's definition - is fine balanced reporting, in my opinion. And it reads well. It sought and included responses from the Interior Ministry, which is in charge of Rela, about the raid. It provided perspective to the issue of migrant workers here and human rights organisations stand against groups such as Rela.

As almost always, the official response - Malaysian-style - doesn't quite square with eye-witness accounts.

Five lives have been lost, migrant workers no less. Their bodies were all found in a nearby lake a few days after a raucous raid.

So Zam, with your Malaysian-style belukar of information dispersal, how does one approach the actual truth? How does one even know anything if it's censored right in the bud?

It's about reaching for truth. It's about ripping apart the cloaks of deceit. It's about growing up. It has never been about style. Not western, not eastern, not Malaysian. Transparency wears nothing.

Two crests and the rain

Pak Lah, with the noble Crest of Malaysia filling the backdrop, announced his cabinet reshuffle yesterday. It was a short press conference. Simultaneously, it also had an intriguing multi-media display. I don’t imagine anybody planned it, but it graphically explained the implications of his decision.

If you caught the live telecast you may have observed one peculiar thing perhaps emblematic of the current spirit and directions of our land. The Malaysian Crest they projected onto the backdrop was tacky, heavily pixilated and fuzzy. It had poor resolution.

That, combined with recent events, made for a very clear speech.

No wonder reporters had only a total of eight questions to ask.

As he mumbled off the names of who’s going where, employees of the Guang Ming Afternoon Daily mulled a two-week shutdown, courtesy of the government for printing a picture of a person reading a newspaper with those cartoons. While the decision was dim enough, it further reinforced favouritism when TV3 was spared even though it carried the same image and reaches a far wider audience.

Silly me for thinking politicians use the common dictionary to define ‘integrity’ and ‘transparency’.

Pak Lah’s announcement reminded me of the wonderful Commencement Speech at Stanford last year by Apple chief Steve Jobs, but in an incredibly distorted and morbid way.

In parting, Jobs had said: “Stay Hungry. Say Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.”

The corrupted and the feudal beasts in government would certainly love that. Literally.

Is there any light to all this? A sign perhaps?

Me, I’m drawn to another crest, a seemingly unrelated event developing in Terengganu. The Kenyir Dam has surpassed the 145m red-alert level. If rains continue to pour in that region, we could see massive floods all the way to Kuala Terengganu.

Similarly, 92 percent of voters placed their trust in Pak Lah’s BN government which had promised reforms. That’s a lot of trust. Out with corruption, in with transparency, in with integrity!, the Barisan band played. Two years of unexplained exposes and unfulfilled promises, it’s beginning to feel like a dam filled to the brim. Instead of keeping to their word, they shut the 'Western-style' sluicegates of information and sound a stern warning.

In maintaining the reactionaries and incompetents in the bloated Cabinet, Pak Lah has turned his back on the wishes of the people. He may have forgotten ‘kenyir’ in Malay means ‘to long for, to desire’. The Barisan dam may be big, but it is also finite and can only hold so much.

Come elections, the rains might just render the dam useless.

Try fly, he said

It was 3.46am when the cell-phone beeped. My elder brother had messaged to say he’s now a dad. First-time dad, and twins too. I was still up working – I work best at night – and immediately called to congratulate the dude. Too bad you’re in Singapore, I told him, I’d love to have a cigar with you right now.

The mother’s doing well, he tells me. Good.

We laughed quite a bit. He was obviously overjoyed with the new additions. We laughed the laughter only brothers share with each other. I felt good for him. The man deserved it.

He's three years older than me and we’ve come a long way together.

It was he who untangled me from the chain-link fence way back when I was a five-year-old. We were trying to do a shortcut to a neighbor’s birthday party and I got stuck in all the wires. When I was six, he held my hand and taught me to draw. At seven, he placed a ball at my feet and said, kick dammit.

At 16, he placed a book by my head prone on the pillow and said, read this dammit. It was Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I tried but it hurt my head. It was full of those Aristotle and Socrates and Plato stuff, and my hormones were pointing to another direction altogether.

In the ensuing years, we developed along separate paths. He remained steady as a rock, and I, the middle child, became the wanderer. As we grew older, he didn’t so much as teach anymore – he couldn’t, we ran on different fuels – rather he enabled.

He didn’t know it then, but these hands that he taught to draw would today draw for a living. These feet he taught to kick, well, they’ve grown to shun mediocrity and strive to kick ass instead. As for Pirsig’s ZAMM, I did finish it and have since reread it numerous times. It remains one of my favourite books, although my head still hurts. Perhaps even more.

In many ways, while my brother dug down in the trenches and moved in-step with the workings of the world, he set me on a ledge and said: “Go ahead. Try to fly. Or you’ll never know.”

I tried and I still don’t know. But I do know the man’s there when I need deep insights. That’s only because he helps me answer my own questions. Like the time I seriously wondered if I shouldn’t be working in Singapore. I was fresh back in the region and feeling the discomforts of culture shock. By all rational measures, the scales tipped heavily towards Singapore. I made a trip to the island and sought my brother’s views.

Over at the kopi-tiam below his HDB flat that evening, in between gulps of kopi-o, I described my dilemma. I skewed it in favour of the Lion City.

“Look,” I pointed to an SBS bus driving past, “Public transport works here! The civil service works here! Things just work! It seems commonsensical, but people with the right skills are in the right place, by and large. And they’re constantly thirsting for ideas. Architecture-wise, you can tell there’s more discourse. They’ve done wonders to the river. We? We turned Klang River into a bloody longkang….yadda yadda yadda…. Tell me how we measure against that back home.”

Brother was silent for a while. He chewed on his boiled kailan and stared towards the shady angsana-lined street.

“I moved here because I’m more relevant here. You did too, many years ago,” he finally said.

“And then you left. Now – what eight, 10 years? – you’ve come back to this region giving up what you had described to be a good life in Oregon. A rich and challenging experience, you said. But between a Green Card and Southeast Asia, you decided this place had stronger appeal. You’ve actually come back.

“Why did you really come back?

“Was it to fight the good fight or did you expect a bed of roses?

“In your emails from abroad you wrote about the unique texture of Southeast Asia and its towns and cities and how these need to be managed with sensitive hands. You wrote about how local materials ought to be pushed. You wrote about the beauty of brick and clay and rattan and bamboo. And you talked about rain and how it is material, like light is material. You talked about social architecture. Frankly, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I’m trained in accountancy. But I’m damned curious.

“So, you gave up the good life and chose a cause. Why did you really come back?”

This time it was I who was silent for a while. In simple symmetry, I chewed on boiled kailan and stared towards the darkened angsana-lined street.

Two youths on trendy mountain bikes complete with biker shorts and torpedo-shaped helmets zipped by. Canggih to the max. And almost instantly, I recall a scene just outside Temerloh many years ago. A father – he must have been a farmer – cycling his little daughter back from school in the bleaching afternoon sun. I remember our bus passed the primary school quite a few kilometres back. Somehow for that brief second, the little girl sitting on daddy’s crumbling bicycle, uniform reddish from laterite dust, looked at me and I her. She smiled the toothiest grin. Two bicycle scenes sat side by side inside me for a brief moment – sleek versus warmth divided by a razor-thin wall.

It was then when I realized why I really came back.

Brother does that to me. He knows the acupuncture points to my Being. Brother has been there as an anchor and a compass all through my life. He’s gifted at that but probably doesn’t realize it.

He’ll make a fabulous father and I am happy for his kids.

And brother, I’ll try my darndest to show you rain is material. I’ll show you sensitive social architecture is more beautiful than any fancy-ass architecture anyday. I’ll walk the walk and fight the good fight. Now that you’ve pointed me home.

Losing faith

This blog is hosted by Blogger. It is free. I can use it to deride Blogger, try to start a war against it or the country it is based. I can post pictures of naked women and yes, cartoons. But Blogger still says go ahead, its yours for free. Use it.

Yes, I am still answerable to the laws of my country.

Blogger is but one of many dozens of free blog hosts out there that essentially believe a larger common good comes out of freedom and local control. Together with wikis, it believes in the individual as being a vital component to human society, not a digit. It believes that the more people exchange the more resolutions can be reached. It believes that through information dispersal people find their way, make their friends, turn on the lights and grow up.

It doesn’t promise instant paradise, rather baby steps and stumbles. It doesn’t believe in monoculture rather diversity of the richest kind imaginable.

That, to me, is faith.

Faith that the individual has a brain and collectively helps pave those treks we call culture. It is the believe that while lies, fraud, bigotry and chauvinism will continue to operate, they will be exposed and sublimated. And an individual empowered is worth more than having the title datuk by his name.

The Malaysian Cabinet met on Wednesday and decided unanimously that the Sarawak Tribune needed to be whipped bad for publishing those controversial caricatures. Apologies and an editor's resignation did not do enough. Pak Lah, prime minister and internal security minister today announced that the newspaper has been suspended indefinitely.

Pak Lah also “issued a blanket prohibition in the whole country starting today on the printing, import, production, circulation, distribution or possession of the Sarawak Tribune publication which undermine public order, security and national interest or which may disturb the minds of the people”, reports Bernama.

Now, that disturbs my mind. That basically means context of the article surrounding the cartoon shall remain undisclosed, not to be discussed. All we know is the headline: ‘Cartoon not much impact here’.

Of course the public is not privy to what was discussed in the meeting of our nation’s top honchos. Was it all over in a minute? Was there any debate? What was the real reason? Nope, not a single disclosure. Just a tsk-tsk-tsk from Deputy Information Minister Donald Lim saying here’s a warning, y’all.

The basic message: Why does the individual need to know? Don't get too smart. Don't dig too deep.

In muzzling the press, the cabinet has shown it is insecure and has no faith in the individual. Some government folks have begun to say the press has been sensationalizing issues to sell papers. Pardon me? It’s far, far easier to dig dirt and juicy details on local personalities than to take on non-issues with the government. The government must have so much dirty laundry that the few write-ups by our local Pravdas can cause its knees to shake or jerk. And why am I not surprised?

The Malaysian cabinet made a poor and reactionary judgment on Wednesday which echoed another stupid one barely a month ago with the forced resignation of two China Press editors. It has pulled one out from the old play-book of the Operation Lalang days, the only other time any local newspaper had been suspended.

One would wish such swift action in the many problems facing this country - corruption, police indignation and abuse, APs, transparency, lawatan sambil belajar - but alas, we are but digits.

Just about two years ago, our benign-looking PM said: Work with me, not for me.

I’m sorry Mr Prime Minister, but with such a message coming out of that harsh punishment, you fail to convince.

Mud pact

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour

William Blake
excerpt from Auguries of Innocence


Reverence. We need more of that juice in times like these. Blake’s lines might sound clichéd to some, but every so often I find it well to play an old record. Just so to balm a frustrated soul and knock in perspective. Globally and locally, things just seem a little off-orbit lately.

Newspaper cartoons leading to cries of beheading and boycotts and actual arson. Heads shaved over a mahjong session. Toxic dumping. Illegal logging. Allegations of citizenship and Bumi status up for lelong in Sabah. Crooked bridge and airspace. It’s getting tiresome.

Especially infuriating is when groups or individuals do cheap sales talk in the capacity of an honoured position. Justifying that black is white. I don’t know about you, but I can smell false patriotism from the real thing, vindictive law-enforcing from true peacekeepers, and all the pong of serve-myself-first attitudes. It smells like fresh vomit.

Selfishness impoverishes. Our bank accounts may get fat but our marrow dries up.

Reverence. If only we could begin to see the halo in all things – be it mud, rock, fire, animal, humans – as a direct extension of ourselves, of an Immensity beyond meager scriptures, that I am you and we are one, then maybe we can safely halve the problems we face today.

Belligerence beheads everybody, not just Danish newspaper folk.

"But one day when I was sitting quiet and feeling like a motherless child, which I was, it come to me: that feeling of being part of everything, not separate at all.
I knew that if I cut a tree, my arm would bleed. And I laughed and I cried. I run all around the house. I knew just what it was…
Listen, God love everything you love – and a mess of stuff you don't.
But more than anything else God love admiration.

You saying God vain? I ast.

Naw, she say. Not vain, just wanting to share a good thing.
I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it."

Alice Walker
excerpt from The Color Purple


If there was something I’d dearly wish to behead, it’d be the medusa of belligerence. If there was anything worth shaving, it'd be the locks of ignorance and deceit. If there was one bridge I’d die to help build, it’d be the bridge of commonality. Nothing much else.

Look, look, look… and then see. See the halo. We are all mud and spit and fire. What’s there to hate in that.

Welcome to my vocational Taj Mahal

Vocational training seems primed for a push under the Ninth Malaysia Plan. The Youth and Sports Ministry is targeting 520 National Youth Skills Institutes (IKBN) to be built all around the country during that period.

Its Minister, Datuk Azalina Othman Said said this is to cater for the overwhelming interest shown by youths to undergo training at these centers. Good on you, Datuk.

What catches my eye is this. And it better be a mistake.

“A standard IKBN in an urban area or growth centre would cost RM100 million to build while in a smaller rural constituency, it would cost less, she told reporters, here Monday,” reports Bernama.

RM100 million for each school.

Gasp. She cannot be serious. Or is she?

Look, I’ve never handled any of these government projects before, but my architect buddies and I have done a fair bit of private sector mixed-use commercial and residential projects. Those projects should provide some framework for reference.

An average RM55 million – or half the value of each purported school – gets you about 150 medium-end apartment units complete with full clubhouse amenities like tennis courts, swimming pool, squash courts, gym, reading room, security system and CCTV and a 6-storey commercial complex (retail and offices) with elevators, escalators and air-conditioning, and required car-parking facilities. And given the occupant use and loading, more expensive life-safety equipment is also included eg smoke extraction system, fire sprinklers and alarm, smoke curtains etc.

Or a more pointed reference: The sales tag for the 35-storey MAS Building in prime real estate Jalan Sultan Ismail is going for a reserve RM130 million.

RM100 million building budget for each school…

Way cool, government. Unless you were planning on Burmese teak floors and Barcelona Chairs, please explain.


p.s. You know how it is when all is dark and you can’t see, your other senses pick up the slack? That’s how it is with transparency and governance. Because you, the ruling party, operate under a cloak, every government-issued report however small churned out by the media is scrutinized for aberrations. See, you’ve made me sharp.

I’m watching. Others are too.

Stating the obvious

I am Chinese. You may be Malay. Or you may be Indian, Dayak, Eurasian. So what, you say. Exactly, so what.

I find myself closer in spirit, thought and values with a number of Malay friends than I ever could any profiteering, conniving Chinese. And this includes family. Put me in a room with these ringgit-smacking beasts and I’ll cringe in pain, I’ll yawn or I’ll deliberately start a broiling debate on the table just to charge the mood a little. Ditto with my Indian buddies – I’ll go through seven tolls to help them out, Samy notwithstanding.

That’s stating the obvious, you say. Of course just about everybody has friends from different races whom they click just nicely. People form groups comprising individuals of similar ideas, goals, causes and wavelengths. That’s just natural.

I am definitely stating the obvious.

Now if that’s so obvious… why then is our political system today grooved along racial lines?

It’s plain clumsy. It's low IQ, low EQ. It’s perpetually divisive. How can this country ever talk about satu Bangsa, satu Negara when the leaders in government represent their respective races rather than core values?

Shouldn’t political parties and consequently government be founded more along value-based ideologies?

Why should I join the MCA to guard Chinese Malaysian rights when I am more interested in other aspects of equality and progress in society? Why should there be an UMNO when the Malay padi farmer in Kedah has more in common with a Chinese vegetable farmer in Cameron Highlands than with his fellow KL Malay sitting lumpy with a clutchful of APs speaking in some bahasa Barat? And you can try convincing me MIC can successfully promote the interests of the Indian Malaysian estate worker who earns RM200 a month as fairly as the hotshot Indian Malaysian lawyer.

I can see the logic for race-based parties 50 years ago. The country’s terrain was different then.

It seems to me Malaya as an entity was born divided. It was a land of spice, rubber and tin, and the British lords happily welcomed whoever was willing to come here to work. It was not about home, it was a field of labour. It was about migrants who came to make money with perhaps the intention of going back to their homeland.

The divide-and-rule strategy was a legacy of the colonial British in managing the different ethnic groups. Fair enough. They ruled us then. And the influx of Chinese, Indians and Indonesians fresh off the boat was so rapid and immense, divide-and-rule could be justified as a plausible, even humane, policy. Literacy was low, language proved a barrier, and these people were complete strangers to each other. It was all about economics and pragmatism for both the colonial masters and our immigrant forefathers (again this includes Indonesians).

Argue how you want, the British may have exploited us – which colonialist doesn’t? – but they had heart and goodwill. And among the many infrastructure, when it came time to leave, they left behind the Reid Commission as a roadmap to how an independent Malaysia would mature.

A key point in the report stressed on continuity of special privileges for the Malays with the recommendation that “in due course the present preferences should be reduced and should ultimately cease”. From the tone of the document, I sense the drafters of the Commission genuinely believed that the infant Malaysia had what it takes to grow up a rational, fair, and harmonious nation. I sense they believed Malaysia could be critical enough to grow out of its former colonial master’s methods like divide-and-rule and the ISA when its usefuleness have been outlived.

Forty-eight years onwards we haven’t fared too well as far as politics and government go. Rather than a wonderful tapestry, the nation is slashed along racial lines thanks to continued but modified divide-and-rule policies by a government made up of race-based parties. And we’re still threatened with the ISA long after the communist insurgency is over. You can dangle all kinds of national symbols and icons, change the names of towns and streets, change the history books, but the truth is we’re still practising the colonial British methods of government. If the agenda back then was about economics and pragmatism, today it’s about paranoia, fear and greed.

Closed doors, closed books, closed records, closed accounts instead of transparency to foster dialogue and debate. Case closed.

My goodness, here we are, 21st century Malaysians who desire kinship more through commonness rather than race, being forced to remember we are brown, yellow and black because of policies made by dimwitted bigots. Here we are with an ever-expanding middleclass, with an increasingly diverse and capable society, being told: “This has been passed by the cabinet, nothing to talk.” Like we are still illiterate. Here we are still yelling medieval slogans like: “Kalau tak suka, keluar.”

Honey, four generations of Indians, Chinese and Eurasians born on this soil is enough proof that we are Malaysians, no more immigrants. Four generations of looking up to the flag and Negaraku is enough proof that here indeed is where Tanah tumpahnya Darahku. Let’s not get into trivialities of qualifying loyalty.

It’s clear to me the country can no longer be governed along racial lines. It has grown beyond that stage. It’s clear to me that I will never support a political party where race forms its organizing spine. It doesn’t make any sense today. At best it can only offer wayang after wayang. Neither will I ever support a political party where religion forms its organizing spine. Definitely not in multi-cultural Malaysia.

Without trying too hard, I can foresee an able government sincerely wanting to integrate the people via sound policies and inclusiveness yet faithfully respecting Article 153 of the Constitution. The government today is not it.

Hakka and home

You couldn’t really tell which was the noisiest – the smoke-belching diesel generator or the whining gears of a concrete mixer. Or those Hakka plasterers.

Neither could you tell which deserved Workhorse of the Month Award – the seasoned-grey jackhammer rat-a-tatting for hours or the diamond-tooth power grinder spewing dust and sparks. Or those Hakka plasterers.

I came upon these folks one morning on a walkabout at a bungalow construction site. They left a lingering impression.

Way before Live-Work-Play became an urban lifestyle catchword among developers, these people were already embodying it in their own way. Dressed in utility samfu and pasar malam pants and dusty canvas shoes, these middle-age women and men bring their daily mirth to the workplace, unencumbered by the dour weight of the world. They don’t care about yoghurt, maybe yongtowfoo; not latte, perhaps satay. And don’t tell them to quiet down. That would be very bad manners on your part.

“They’re from Kajang,” the main contractor told me. He too was amused. “They are like one big family. They move as a group from job to job. Always the same members.”

And they’re so in demand they’re booked solid for months on out, he added.

Every morning before sunrise, a “family” van moves through the kampung baru alleys and picks up the members. Some of the menfolk may have already set off on their kapchais. Some mornings they’d stop for breakfast, especially if someone chung tau 4-D; they’d ynim kopi, sik yew-cha-kuee and set off for work.

In The Hundred Secret Senses, Amy Tan writes from the yin-eyes of Kwan: “We had a saying. When you marry a Thistle Mountain girl, you get three oxen for a wife: one that breeds, one that plows, one to carry your old mother around. That’s how tough a Hakka girl was.”

Well, I’ll be. It wasn’t thaaaaat hard to miss.

Along with the men, the women shoveled sand and lime, dumped sacks of cement into the mixer, and pushed loaded wheelbarrows over gangplanks. They plastered on the scratch coat, then the final coat days later leaving behind a finished sheen so smooth you’d feel bad it was going to be painted over.

The best part was they seemed happy. They seemed like community, like family. They spoke animatedly while plastering, moving as a group moving from room to room. They talked about their men and their children, and the food they had yesterday. They ribbed each other in a dialect I could not fathom but in laughter that I could. They had fun. And they did good consistent work.

These Hakka plasterers are a traveling social unit. A mobile cottage industry, they exemplify local community and support. No government aid, no datuk connections, just making an honest living. They are a post-colonial, post-Emergency style EPF, Socso and health insurance scheme all rolled into one. With breakfast thrown in sometimes.

Much has been said about the dearth of quality local artisans these days. From Kedah to Sarawak, many have left for a better paycheck in Singapore be it tile-layers, finish carpenters, painters, welders, masons. It’s not just brain drain, it’s skills drain just as much. Merit pays.

These Hakka plasterers have the skills. They too could have moved to work in Singapore and yet they stayed. They stayed because community - not just money - provides security.

“Haiyo, what for go there? Home is here,” one of the louder women answered me.

Her simple answer made me feel stupid for even forming that question. Plus the irony that Hakkas were considered foreigners amongst the Chinese, gypsies in their own land.

I think our local industries and human resource gurus could learn from this. That community needn’t break down in deference for a corporate-style method of operations. We needn’t whole-heartedly adopt Western concepts. Corporate ladders and KPIs may make surface sense but can it truly stir deep productivity?

In the first place, is productivity the proper gauge? As a word, it feels too slanted towards the mercenary and devoid of the spirit.

There must be a better word to measure performance, a word that reaches at deeper commitments rather than production numbers, of a nourishing environment that makes you want to stay, contribute, and be creative.

Perhaps something like belongivity instead.

I’ve done the corporate thing in a previous life. Yes, the company takes care of you, great benefits and all, but ultimately it is a machine mindset and you’re a cog, and you have a shelf life. It is cold, brrr-uddy cold.

And then there are those plasterers… Through all that yakkity-yak and smooth troweling of walls, they’re quite a scene to behold, and quite a lesson. It makes you think. Belongivity over productivity. Through them I learned, that size aside, some of the best things actually come in loud packages. Hakka loud.

And guess what. Home is here. Duhh.