A GIRL NAMED RIA

There was this girl named RIA. I stumbled into her in the ruins of Angkor I visited a couple of weeks ago – on 1st June 2008. She was there tugged in a corner amidst hundreds of foreign tourist that thronged the infamous historical sites of Cambodia. She was around 10 or 11 and of the same age as my two granddaughters Nurul Aifa and Nureen Hana. She was alone, and I presumed she was a local.
On the first glance I mistook her for an art student from a local institution doing some school projects. But she was there all alone, minding her own business, sketching rigorously on a worn out exercise book. Was she an art enthusiasts, or merely one of those street urchins trying to woo tourists with her sketching prowess for a couple of Riel or Dollar? My guess was almost right when a couple of Japanese teenage girl approached her corner, eager on what she was sketching on.
She was actually sketching one of them. It was a quick sketch job. She initialed her name on the caricature and handed it over to them. The 2 Japanese girls overjoyed. They giggled as they shook her hand. For that moment they were close, like bosom friends on an outing. I later help to photograph the three.
There were lots of street urchins at most of the historical sites. There were there, selling their wares. They would crowd and harassed those naïve visitors until you part with your dollar or Riel for a pair of bangles or other trinkets made of beads. Those were the nuisance lots. There were also street children scavenging dustbins looking for plastic bottles or empty cans. It was really a depressing sight looking at those half naked kids collecting discards, some to the point of eating any leftover foods found or quenching their thirsts from those salvaged bottles or canned drinks.
But this girl named RIA was one with a different. She was neatly dressed and well composed. She neither harassed the visitors nor scavenging the throw-outs. She sketched simple caricatures and passed them to those who find time to befriend her.
Her simple nature and kind smile for the moment urged me to get to know her. And as I approached her, she spontaneously handed me her latest sketch. It was a multi petals flower, with a butterfly hovering over it. The sketch was simple and neat.
For the moment I took it as a symbolic gesture of friendship. The initial RIA is prominently displayed on the top right corner. RIA in The Malay Language meaning gembira, girang, riang, sukacita ( joy,happiness). For whatever its true meaning was, the name RIA fitted her personality. The multi petal flower maybe bunga cempaka or chempa to the locals. Melayu Chempa originated from Cambodia, and hence bunga kemboja widely flourished in the country as well in Malaysia. Is she of the Malay origin?
I took a snapshot of her for my 2 granddaughters. Little did I know Nurul Aifa and Nureen Hanna had met her earlier, and was sketched. Like me the two were proud of their find.

Flashback: I recalled my early association with a Malay Chempa from Cambodia, was with actor, filem producer director Ismail Sasakul. We met in Kuala Lumpur at my office in Angkasapuri when I was The Head Of Drama, RTM (Radio Television Malaysia) in the 1980es. Earlier he had established himself locally as an independent film director. He was first based in Marang, Trengganu, later in Negeri Sembilan. Ismail Sasakul was a soft spoken and a kind man. He escaped to Malaysia with his families from his war-torned country, and found shelter in Kampong Kelulut, Marang. We were not in contact for a very long time since then. I believed either he or his family are still in the country or had been shipped back to Cambodia by The World Amnesty Organizations.

'Much Ado About Something..?!!!.'

Hello -


8 weeks had passed PRU12th; yet the frenzy political bickering on the election aftermath still on high note.


The PRU 12th spinoff had been full of anticipations and surprises to most – the losers as well the winners. Never before in the history of Malaysian Post Elections, had I seen political divide amongst politician in their respective party and components auguring an unassumingly political polemic far beyond the election campaign. Backbiting, finger pointing; witch-hunting has been the order, of the whole month. Firstly most BN leaders and supporters seemed not to be able to cope with the coalition unexpected loss, only they are gentlemen enough for not ‘labeling the election as fraud, commonly used by loosing political parties worldwide. Secondly PKR,DAP as well PAS leaders ardently positioned themselves as power crazy lots: recklessly and relentlessly perplexing their muscles, trying to scrap policies put in place by the previous government. In doing so they sometime crossed sensitive boundaries.


The election aftermath affected the nation tremendously. Never had I saw people from all walks of life joined in the political frenzy whenever they congregated with each having a few political telltale to contribute.


Rumors fill the air, spreading from words of mouths spurred by irresponsible postings from alternative media i.e the internet, telephone SMSes and from (what I termed as) ‘mosquito’ tabloids. They spread like wild fires, divulging in maliciously revealing, vindictive, nasty and cruel accusations pinpointing on certain sensitive issues that are close to the people’s hearts. Those (so-called) rumor mongers played to their gallery well with their spiteful concoction of tales continuously feeding the hungry ears of their listeners.


To the man in the street, Malaysian Politics has brought about telltale flip-plop fictional dramatic underscores. Much ado about nothing’. They saw claimants or those aspiring young Turks, relentlessly trying to prove their worth by maliciously accentuate spiteful accusations on other aspirants, even within the same party. Some brave enough demanding their tested leaders to step down, all in the name of politics.


Are they the true upcoming leaders of the people, or merely a band of hopefuls looking for better pastures in the name of (Malaysian) politics. To me they are neither a maverick nor an opportunist…..some even having the essence or quintessence of a scoundrel.


So who the true leaders are?


I had bear witness to all the country’s PRU as a citizen and a Public Servant. I had indirectly or directly involved in most of them. Right from pre Merdeka periods Malayan Politics had underscored its roles for the nation’s democratic way of government. Our independent fathers had successfully charted the way to nationhood vigorously rejecting unfitting doctrines and other influences not fit for the nation. We look up upon these leaders as icons, nationalist, and mavericks. They were the freedom fighters and compatriots who relentlessly championed the country as a free nation We adored them for their patriotism and esprit de corps within diverse political parties and racial associations. Together they diversified their efforts uplifting the spirits of nationhood in their struggles for independence. They came from all walks of life from royalties to the ordinary peasants. They are the leaders of the people and for the people. Their opportunistic leadership style on nation building has always been for the benefit of all.


Fifty years of Merdeka, Malaysian on the whole has become an affluent society. The road to nationhood had brought about vast opportunities for improvements on all. The well structured social and economic developments of the country rightly positioned the nation as a developed developing country. Also, fifty years of Merdeka, Malaysia saw the growth of its young populations by leaps and bounds. They are well educated lots. Most are computer savvy and very knowledgeable on Information Technology. They are the citizen of borderless world of today.


Now back to post-election frenzy.


PRU 12 unprecedented results has created political overture countrywide. Never before after May 1969 PRU, Malaysian Politic being put on the stand for citizen’s review. Political pundits are having field days analyzing Malaysian political stature. They took the trail to find out, ‘where do we go wrong.’ At the end of the day, no affirmative result concluded, except for some of their wildcat calls that the country should embark on this and on that.


The most interesting was the resolution adopted on the formation of The Council Of Malay Solidarity at a special Congress on Malay Solidarity in Johore Bahru 1st week May 08, spearheaded by GAPENA and attended by about 200 Malay NGOs. Its main aim to further Malay interests against what they view as challenges to KEDAULATAN MELAYU or Malay Sovereignty. That Malaysia’s existence is founded on the principle of KEDAULATAN MELAYU in opposition to ideologies such as “Malaysian Malaysia’, multilingualism, multiculturalism and religious pluralism, they claimed had become more prominent since the 2004 election. I agree if it’s a wake up calls for the Malays and ordering them to buck up. And to achieve we the Malays must afford a sound national political agenda to substantiate them. Have we?


On this issue the onus is on you – anak MELAYU.

The Unfortunate Few

I must admit autism was unknown to most until the end of last year when The United Nation’s 62nd General Assembly designated 2nd April as WORLD AUTISM AWARENESS DAY.

April has always been a special month for me. The 1st week of April used to be a busy week for me. Firstly, I would always be cautious on the emergence of 1st April worring someone would send me on fool's errand as the 1st of April is April Fool's Day. We in RTM observed the 1st April as the birthdate of Radio Malaya estblished on 1.4.1946 (later known as Radio Malaysia and RTM-Radio Television Malaysia) my place of work for some 30 odd years; starting as a Radio Broadcasting Assistant in 1966, till my mandatory retirement date on my 55th birthday - the 4th April 1996 as RTM Managing Director.  Therefore I have reasons to note all the daily happenings of most of the 1st week of April each year as important events in my dairy.
So for this Ist week April blog posting, I like to dedicate my thought to my special childhood autistic buddy - in conjunction with the 1st WORLD AUTISM AWARENESS DAY.
We spend most of our childhood together in Kampung Tanjung Bayan. He was a year older and we were bosom friend. The last time I met him was during my Aidiladha Korban & Open House Celebrations at Surau Kampung Parit 25 Baruh, Tanjung Bayan, December last year.
Our early acquaintence was in 1953. I was 12 years old, and a new intake to the Govt.English School, while he attended the neighbouring Malay School in Hutan Melintang. We became buddies. My family home was in Parit 25 Tengah where father operated his Provision Shop on a rented lot belonging to Haji Ibrahim his uncle. A single mother brought up Basiran. They lived in a small hut, downstream at Parit 25 Baruh. His mother Makcik Saerah a woman of not so many words. She and her son Basiran always mind their own business and keep to themselves. The family did not go well with some kampong folks. Basiran and her mother were easily labeled as 'mereng' - insane. I believed then, if autism is not hereditary then Makcik Saerah maybe facing a traumatic life, being a single mother living in poverty. Wallahualam.
According to father, Haji Ibrahim inherited a big portion of their late parent’s property leaving Makcik Saerah a small lot enought for her depilated dwelling – a small hut only fit for 2. It was during December School Term holiday Basiran came to stay at his uncle’s place. He was forced to spend the term holidays clearing Haji Ibrahim coconut plantation next to my father’s rented plot. As a 12 year old, I could understand that Basiran could not effort the heavy duty clearing the undergrowth single-handed. It was a Man’s job, as the undergrowth was of thick 'lalangs' dotted with 'pokok kelubuk' to the height of more than 10 feet. Haji Ibrahim explained that was a way to train his nephew to be the breadwinner of the family and a responsible person. Father believed otherwise. Haji Ibrahim, forced Basiran to do the job for free. Father was not happy with the situation, but could not do anything, as Haji Ibrahim claimed that is was a family matter.
One fine afternoon Basiran showed his tantrum and ran Amok. Armed with a parang (a long knife) and instead of clearing the undergrowth he cut down most of his uncle’s newly planted banana palms to the amazement of the kampong folks. Haji Ibrahim was furious. He claimed Basiran inherited his madness from his mother Makcik Saerah. Unfazed Basiran threatened to hurt his uncle, claiming Haji Ibrahim robbed his mother’s share of their inherited properties. Haji Ibrahim got the scare of his life. Luckly though the incidents happened on the eve of his uncle pilgrimage to Mekkah, and with Haji Ibrahim being away in Saudi Arabia for a long time, the incident was eventually forgotten. However the  local folks believed Basiran and his mother Makcik Saerah, were a couple of lunatic.

But say what you may, I saw nothing wrong with them. I used to visit them in their rundowned hut. For as far as I can remember Basiran a loveble lad. He was always heedful and vigilant. Never were we disturbed by school bullies or the small town ruffians as he did not take heed to all their touts abd advances. As such I felt safe to be around him; although locals believed him as being 'sewel' - a lunatic and a dangerous person.
More so my parents did not mind I befrended him.

Basiran had the tendency of inappropriate behaviors. He seemed to be living in a world of his own. He used to talk alone and sometimes he would laughs and giggles inapproriately or talks over and over about the same thing. He likes to stare into emptiness and unusual eye contact during conversation. Because of his strange behaviors his school teachers choose to isolate him from his other classmates. But he never complained the segregation.

Basiran loved to meddle and modify mechanical stuffs. Once he invited me to his house and proudly displayed his attempt to repair his mother's alarm clock. He had so far dismantled a few old time pieces, arranging and rearranging the various components in rows, looking for the right part to fit his mother's alarm clock. On other instances he would perched himself on a high branch, delivering a long and winded speech to the wildness. Those unassuming behaviors of his make people believed him to be 'sewel' - a lunatic.

After Standard 5 he dropped out of school while most of his classmates continued their schooling to Standard 6. There after we seldom meet, but we were still buddies. I like him because of his gantle nature. Except on the day he showed his tantrum at his uncle's coconut plantation, never ever I saw Basiran being rough to others. Still most of the kampung folks believed him 'sewel' or 'sasau' - insane. They distant themselves from him believing that like most lunatics Basiran and his mother Makcik Saerah were bewitched and possessed by unknown prowling spirits.

Avoid them, for they would be at their worst especially during the full moon, local elders used to remind everybody.

-

Then, there was this man - Pak Din, a distant neighbor who was also lebeled by the villages as 'sasau' - a lunatic like Basiran. He was an ex SC (Special Constable). He was discharged from active service for reason nobody knew. He had bloodshot eyes and unassumedly like to stares at people from afar. He was a loaner, being abandoned by his families and friends. He moved to our kampung and lived in a makeshift hut on a vacent plot a kilometer away from my house. He was considered poor by the kampung standard. The locals believed that Pak Din scavenged coconuts from the monsoon drains and sell them in town. But Pak Din always claimed his right to those coconuts, and argued that he had prior business dealings with the owners. The kampung folks did not believed him. They lebeled Pak Din as a cheat and 'orang gila' - a madman.

During good times Pak Din would cart off a big load of coconuts on his bacycle to town.He seemed to be doing a good business selling those coconuts to prospectors in town.The kampung folks ardently accused him stealing those coconuts; but none brave enough to confront him. Pak Din always like to show off his 'pisau belati' - a sharp knife to scare them. They were afraid Pak Din might lost his senses and attacked them.
So most afternoon I used to watch Pak Din passing infront of my house going to town with a full load of coconuts. I almost believed that he stole those coconuts, had not Basiran cautioned me that Pak Din actually bought those coconuts from kampung lads on a fixed rate of 5 cents each and resold them in town for more. Basiran added, if at all there were complain of coconut thefts by village elders the culprits were their very own growing up cigarette puffing children, not Pak Din. Pak Din was a small time coconut dealer operating from his small hut by the monsoon drain. In jest Basiran told me, those lads would steal their parent's coconuts, threw them into the monsoon drain and cautioned Pak Din about the delivery. Pak Din would wait for those coconuts floating downstream and salvage them. Basiran also claimed that most of those impurated parents knew about their growing up kid's antics, but out of self pride they choose to put the blame on Pak Din. For those reasons Pak Din used to stare them from afar to scare them off.

Basiran was right. Pak Din was not a thief. Later with my father's permission I collected a few coconuts from our plantation and sold them to Pak Din. The money was for my weekly allowance and monthly school fees, as father was bedridden for cometime due to cronic ilness. As father's plantation was just across the monsoon drain where Pak Din lived, I only need to file the coconuts next to the monsoon drain for Pak Din to collect later. From then on, me and Pak Din had a good business dealings.

I believed then, like Basiran and his mother Makcik Saerah, Pak Din was no nuts or a lunatic. They were loaners and for some reasons living in their own world. They were not bewitched or possessed by spirits. They were suffering from something beyond our means to fathom.

Basiran admitted that he was always scared of Pak Din. He always avoid being in contact with the old man. One day misfortune struck the two. It was late evening, both were cycling from opposite direction on a village narrow track to town. Basiran was running errand to town while Pak Din was cycling back home. It was getting dark. Both Pak Din and Basiran collided midway. Basiran was thrown to the left bush while Pak Din landed in a drain on the right. According to Basiran he got the fright of his life as he knew that it was Pak Din he colided with. He could hear Pak Din's groaning from the depth of the drain, as he crawled out. To Basiran surprise Pak Din quickly grabbed his bicycles and sped off. And so did Basiran. Each was scared of the other.

-

I was right to believe that Basiran was not a lunatic right from the start. I used to ponder, what he was suffering from. Only now I understand that Basiran was an autistic.

Autism is a lifelong complex neurobiological disorder which affects millions of people world over. It blocked the ability to comunicate and inhibits emotional and social development right from childhood. Autism among others, has the symptoms of inapproriate laughing, behaving in a standoff manner, apparent insensitivity to pain, extreme crying tantrums, unusual eye contacts and uneven motor skill.
And recalling my long association with Basiran, almost all those symptoms befitted him well. Often an autistic adult ends up in the welfare system. Most of them would be warded in a lunatic asylum. Luckly for Basiran, he never was. He grew up, got married and is happily living with his family in our village.

For the first time, after a long absent, I accidently bumped into him in Kampung Tanjung Bayan a couple of years back. He was riding on his modified motorcycle. Knowing that it was him, I called aloud his name. He stopped for a second, looked around and then quickly sped off. Later in jest he told me, he tought I was a JPJ (Road Transport Department) officer wanting to inspect his newly modified motorcycle.

Since then we met almost every year during Aidil Adha and Open House Celebrations at Surau Parit 25 Baruh. Basiran has been an active member of the Surau Comittee, and has always been ever willing to give his helping hands for a good cause.

I am really happy for him.

YONG KALSOM

Legacy Of A Hardcore Poor

I will be 67 next week. My eldest first cousin Yong Kalsom who is 6 years older than me, would be 73 this year. As she is my only surviving elder, I like to dedicate this posting on her state of affairs as a hardcore poor all her life.

By chance I stumble into her last weekend at my nephew’s wedding reception, a week after PRU12 (Malaysian 12th General Election). The upturned unpreceded big swing of BN votes to the oppositions for Federal Parliament and to some state Legislative Assemblies was still the talk of the town. Hence throughout the wedding ceremony, local politics ruled the day.

In jest I asked Yong Kalsom how she feel on the outcome of PRU12, to which she hesitantly responded. "Nak kata apa?" (What am I to say.) Her answer was simple. “Macam tuu juga.” (Like always).

My next question was more provocative.

“Did you cast your vote?”

She nodded rigorously. Her gazing eyes caught me for a few moments. Then she gave me her usual grin. The sweet smile from this petite lady that I longed for. That sisterly smiling of hers rekindles fond memories of my yesteryears. As time remembers, she had been giving me those passionate smiles every time we were together. She was a person of not so many words but had always been mindful on others. I know her too well for that. We were closed since childhood, although most of our adult lives, we grew up apart. Her home has always been at our ancestral village Kampung Tanjung Bayan; unlike myself, after college education, I had been living around the country; firstly in Trengganu, then moved to Kuala Lumpur, later transferred to Penang, and on a special call of duty for a 2 year assignment to Sabah, then back in Kuala Lumpur and settled down in Petaling Jaya, Selangor.

“Whom did you vote for?”(Undi siapa?) This time I was more demanding. My inner feelings questioned my authority doing so.

Yong Kalsom was alert to respond. “I vote for the same party symbol as before.” (Saya undi parti yang sama macam dulu).

And again she gave me that passionate smile of hers. I was agitated to press for more definite answer from her, only my conscience stalled me briefly. Repeatedly I asked myself: “Why am I doing this?”

“Before it was the Perahu Layar now the Dacing.” (Dulu Kapal Layar sekarang Dacing). She honestly explained. I could see her eyes sparkles with pride. I was lost for words. She was honest all through.

For the record: Since Merdeka the constituents had returned the same party: UMNO -PERIKATAN later UMNO-BN. The Election Logo of PERIKATAN then was Perahu Layar ( a traditional Malay Boat with sail), later the logo changed to Dacing ( a Scale ) after PERIKATAN known as BN-Barisan Nasional.)

“But this time your party has lost the election. The constituency is now under the opposition,” I teased her in jest. ‘Dammed you, sucker!!’ I condemned myself.

Again she gave me the same passionate smiles. Then her lips moved. She uttered something I could not really grasp due to my tone deafness. But I could read her lips clearly. It sounds like: “Macam tuu juga” (Like always).

I remember a couple of years ago when I visited her in our ancestral village, she proudly announced that she had successfully installed a pipe water supply to her dilapidated dwelling. She was so proud of the new facility; for she need not cycled some kilometers away for a supply of fresh drinking water or make do with available rain water collected.

Long before Merdeka the Malay Settlement was provided by The British Colonial with a (free) public water supply. After Merdeka; only the affordable villages living along the pipelines were given the option to install the facilities to their homes. By ‘Kampong Standard’: having pipe water supply to one’s home, is considered a luxury living. So it was a long wait for Yong Kalsom to afford the available facility and enjoy the luxury.

The 50 years wait was never too late for her. Unfazed, the following year she affords herself with the supply of electricity. I presumed the long wait had fullfilled a lifetime achievement for her, as both electricity and water supply lines run along the trunk road less than 100 meters from her home.

Yong Kalthum has been a hardcore poor all her life. She had no formal education, neither any working skill. She lived by the day doing casual labour. I remember she had a hard childhood brought up by her mother Auntie Uda, a single parent. She and her younger sister were child labourers. They used to tag along with their mother venturing out of our village as far as 30 to 50 kilometers away to Sungai Manik, Labu Kubung in Perak or Sungai Besar or Sungai Leman in Selangor looking for seasonal odd jobs, planting or harvesting padi. They were not paid in cash, only given free foods and accommodations plus a few gantang of rice for each to take home after a complete harvest. That was the norms then, people usually engaged in odd labours in exchange for foods. At other times the family would tend their ¼ acre TOL agriculture land planting vegetables.

I vividly remember, way back in the sixties the family would attended to my father’s Rumah Salai Kelapa ( Coconut Kiln ) before dawn each morning for a couple of week each month during coconut harvesting seasons. My father was a small time coconut harvester, running his own Coconut Kiln producing copra. Each was paid a daily wage of around 20 to 40 cents, depending on the amount of dried copra each managed to separate from the coconut shells. It was a couple of hour’s job from dawn to daybreak. The rest of the day would be tending to their vegetable plot or doing other odd jobs in the Malay Settlement. I really adored them.

To this day, and some fifty years into Merdeka, after 2 marriages with no children ( except for an adopted daughter, now married and living in the same village ) after 3 deaths (her mother, younger sister and 2nd husband) and after successfully performing the Hajj in Mekkah, Yong Kalsom never fail doing her daily round in the Malay Settlement on her rickety bicycle looking for odd jobs. And at 70 years plus, she is still at it to support herself, as a hardcore poor.

What a life she has gone through and a pathetic tale to post in this blog. But that is what it is. Believe it or not: the legacy of hardcore poor still exists in our so-called affluent nation.

“Are you being looked after by the Welfare Department?” the final question suddenly popped out from my mouth.

She looked confused.

“Adake terima wang kebajikan dari Kerajaan?” I rephrased my question.

She shook her head vigorously.

“Tak mandang.” ( ‘Never’ as in local dialect )

“Orang politik ta’pernah tanya ke?” I provoked her.

Diligently, she shook her head.

“Kenapa?” (Why?) I demanded for an answer.

“They said I was never a party member.” (Kata mereka saya bukan ahli parti.)

I was flabbergasted. Poor Yong Kalsom. How can they do this to her?

Politik aside; someone need to rectify her state of affairs. She maybe one of the many village hardcore poors unattended to. One only need to go around and ask.

The incumbent BN palimentarian or the new Opposition State Government please take note.

PRU 12 - The Unfortunate Fallout

It turn out to be an unfortunate fallout from PRU-12 resulting a polarized Dewan Rakyat with the 140 BN bench heavily Malay-Bumiputra dominated on one side and an evently mix race for the 82 seats of the OPPOSITION bench on the other.

The final tally of 14O for BARISAN comprising of UMNO,MCA,MIC, GERAKAN and Sabah and Sarawak Parties, with the OPPOSITION 82 seats comprising PKR, DAP and PAS. On the state level BARISAN NASIONAL garnered 307 seats, PKR 42 seats, DAP 71 seats, PAS 83 seats & Inde 2. BN lost control of 4 states and 1 Federal Territory to the OPPOSITION excluding Pas forever stronghold KELANTAN. Attempt by BN to wrestle Kelantan State Government, backfired.

According to political analysis BN won only 48.1% of popular vote in the peninsula, 51.2% if Sabah and Sarawak included. The Chinese support for the OPPOSITION estimated at 35% from 65%, representing 30% swing. The Indian was 47% down from 82% to 35% swing and for the Malays there was a 5% swing from 63% in 2004 election. This translate to a higher swing among the Chinese and Indian, and less among Malays.

PBU12 unexpected result reminded me of PBU 1969, which saw the ruling Alliance Party receiving major setback. It managed to retain simple Parliamentary Majority. It lost Penang to opposition The Gerakan Party, Kelantan to PMIP with Perak and Selangor on the brink of falling into the oppositions. 3 Alliance Ministers and 2 Parliamentary Secretaries lost. Shared of popularity (valid ) votes had dropped 9% since PBU 1964 to 49%. The Alliance faced the prospect of a vociferous opposition in the Parliament for the first time since Merdeka.

The unexpected swing of votes from the ruling BN party to the Opposition PKR,DAP & PAS on PBU12 stunned the nation. To justify this, the aftermath saw no exultant supporters of the PKR,DAP,PAS jubilant reactions, except a deep shock to the BN and its component parties ( especially in Semenanjung ).

Early reactions attributed to the fall outs, blamed compelecencies of BN political leaderships, political backbiting among BN component party members, and the replacing tested incumbent representatives with untested green horns ect. More so, MIC the 3rd largest BN component party was facing a back lashed from a newly Indian grouping The Hindref.

The scribe also believed that there is another unseen pertinent influence resulting on the unprecedented election result. One may say, that it was the ruling parties perceived might of the Mainstream Media and the onslaught of BN Campaign-Advertising Blitz on almost all major Print & The Electronic Communication Channels backfired. In retaliation the opposition powered the new emerging Alternative Media namely The Internet and other Telecommunication system.

The ruling party has been noted as having the upper hand on most in country mainstream media be it printed or electronics. Radio network was fully used to agitate people on Government Development Policies right from Pre Merdeka periods while film and the Television Media added sustainable realities to all. Come election time the ruling party ardently tighten their grip on most available print, broadcast and telecommunication system (public as well private) for sustainable future successes - not well received by most of the effluent and the intellectual groups. Rightly they advocated the freedom of speech. They argued that those mainstream medias as being controlled and serving the same master. Eventually it frustrate the rakyat at large.

The scribe is not a political pundit, neither a social analyst. The scribe is just an ordinary citizen, a keen observer on the country's state of affairs, especially its economic and social standings by regularly updating current knowledge through reading and follow the news regularly. We feel trilled to fathom the pulse of the nation through people mass reactions on issues -the feelings akin to solving word puzzles.

But to fathom mass human feelings is not just a game of solving crossword puzzle. We are dealing with human aptitude or mass media behavioral inclinations. For that, it is believed that authoritative reporting on matters pertaining to issues close to the masses rightly enhanced knowledge based society. Hence the pulse of the nation could immediately be gauged. And so, it is proper to acknowledge the forces of media for societal reforms. That's what we all believe in. But there is the other side of the media force. As the saying goes: mass media is a two-edged sword, with multi-pronged might. It builds as well destroys. On the other hand, 'Politics is the art of perception, real or imagined'. Wrong media slants would result to deceptions.

One can say, continuous positive reporting and promotional Media Blitz is a thumb up for the BN. Positive reportage for BN and 'bad press' for the opposing parties would garner bigger support for the ruling incumbents. But the opposition have done extremely well using the alternative media squashing all the 'bad press' and negative exposei of their leaders. They used Internet,Blogs and SMSes channels to reach the rakyat and to show they care. Ardently they proved that they can connect with the people at large and be a force to articulate their dissatisfaction. The alternative media works well with the younger generation, a large proportion of the voters. Its might spread like wild fire across the nation.

Political jibes (mostly informal and misleading) went well with the people during campaign process and right thought the election night and beyond - an escapism to the ardent followers hungry for revealing informations.

Believe you me, for the PRU12 political campaign, it was the revealings on mass perception of unreavel truths by the opositions that matters most.

"Wallahualam"

MALAYSIAN ELECTION - PRU 12 - 8th March 2008

Malayan Election to local councils was first held in 1952, and in 1955 another election was held for a new legislative council; opening the new era for democracy. As early as 1948, the British promised independence, with a proviso what they termed a “period of preparation.” High spirits filled the air as the need to self-rule our very own motherland after more than 500 years under the colonial powers. While the skeptics were pessimistic of the outcomes, the spirits of PILIHAN RAYA reverberate in towns and villages all over the Peninsular. Political campaign as well educating citizen of their rights to vote took the once tranquil society on the march to nationhood. Radio Malaya ceaselessly aired broadcast reminders of the auspicious day through especially composed tune MARI MENGUNDI sung by Zainal Alam a renowned broadcaster. We were all jolted by the punchy tune and the expressive and persuasive jingle:
“Undilah tuan dan puan,
Duapuluh Tujuh Haribulan,
Pilihanraya yang pertama,
Marilah, undilah bersama-sama.”
It was one of those enlightening tune easily sung by most, young and old…not forgetting kids like us. I was a young lad then, a student in a Government English School. Till this day ( five decades later) the tune reverberate in my mind when at 12.43 PM on the 13th February 2008, my daughter Hazleen SMS me from RTM News Room where she worked, on the (Embargoed News) that our beloved PM Dato’ Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi dissolving Parliament to pave way for the country’s 12th General Election to be held on the 8th.March 08.
Reminiscences of PILIHANRAYA UMUM (PBU) rejuvenates an old man’s memories way back to the period of the threshold of an independent nation that we should be all proud of.
The country was in turmoil since the landing of the invading Japanese Forces in 1941 followed by communist terrorist insurgence, causing instability to a weak nation. Under those circumstances, along the years life was hard for most, though the country was the world exporter of copra, rubber and tin. The upheavals resulting in unstable nation. The country had to strive to fend itself economically as well guaranteed security and stability to enhance social democracy. It was a hideous struggle for all – the government as well peace loving citizens. The Communist Ideologies opposed social realism advocated by our Independent Fathers as a far cry from the reality of social democracy in Malaya then. They demanded the right to rule by instigating the people to join their struggles. They had nationwide and outside influences. They were terrorist and sympathizers around us and in our midst. They create havoc and terrorized the nation.
A state of emergency was declared as of 1948. The British Government Administration alongside local vigilantes fought those terrorists’ untoward provocations. The country was dragged into a long civil war against terrorism.
The fight for self rules continued. We are lucky that our Independence Fathers choose the right ideological path, as we are now a democratic free nation of the world.
31st August 1957 was the historic date. 31st August 1957 was our Independence Day.
The post Merdeka era, saw massive social and economic developments to the country. We strived to be a fully-fledged nation. Federation Malaysia was formed in 1963. Together we built the country into a prosperous nation. We advocated peace and harmony among nations. After 50 years Merdeka the country progresses by leaps and bounds. Malaysia a model for under-developed and developing nations of the world for the continuous peace and progress it has achieved over the last 5 decades.
We are proud that Malaysian as a nation was built on high human values of truth, integrity, honesty, justice, equality and freedom. The nation survives because we respected each other truthfully. We are a nation of multicultural, multi religious and multi ethnic. Together we integrate as Malaysians. Together we built this nation, we enriched our national culture, we advocate perseverance for a just society and believed in God.
Elections meaning tracking and taking stock on societal political maturity as well enlivened democracy to the fullest. Democracy advocates the freedom of speech, choice and the right to a self government - ‘of the people by the people for the people.’ Democracy would be at well work, if and when all eligible citizens exercise their rights freely and fully without fear or favors.
Needless to say come the 12th PBU and after 50 years of self-ruled, the physical development the nation has achieved has completely blinded some immature political leadership. Elected representatives known to have more time pursuing their self esteem rather than servicing their electorate. As a result they lack empathy on people’s need as championed by their fore bearers. It affected the trust of the electorates. As a result citizen’s right of democratic freedom as a whole at stake. Greed breeds contempt. Some deliberately demanded for their right. Others deceitfully challenged the democratic process for their very own political agenda. The once self proclaimed town criers positioned themselves as self styled champions of the people. Their political campaigns ruthlessly fused with hatred. They confused the electorates with claims of the nonexistence of established democracy for a just society, breeding political divide amongst nation. Preposterous prepositions by some political leaders resulting on hardcore political aspirants resorting to unlawful tactics to garner supports. Rampant money politics breeds greedy hypocrite amongst bystanders. Money talks and empty promises, erroneous and unjust political manifestos could easily swayed weak electorates.
At the end of the day, for right or wrong, it’s the people’s choice. Democratic government prevails on citizen collective preferences. Democracy works well if and when all deserving citizens rightfully exercise their rights.
Will you?

A Black Friday For The Skipper

It was supposed to be the D-day for CheOm. We all believed so. He was challenged to a street fight by a silat exponent from Kampung Seberang and to everyone’s surprise he willingly accepted the challenge. His action soon became the focal point of discussion in The Malay Reserve Land. Close family members reasoned with him on his course of action, to which he strongly admitted that his credibility was at stake and he should not retreat. He explained what really transpired between him and his abuser that he resorted to the course of action. Although most of his close associates and the kampong folks willfully adored him for his bravely, but at the same time they also despised him for his astounding act.

They labeled him as a thickheaded bloke unmindful of the consequences. The fight could turn ugly, and he could be seriously injured or being killed.

Father was upset right on the onset, worried a tragedy would be felled the family. Father most regretted CheOm’s stance to confront a silat exponent for the street fight. Father knew too well that Che’Om was not a fighter, as what most people thought he was. He was just a boaster, a showoff, like to brag on himself. Above all he was a harmless and a loving individual.

Father promised the family that he would at the utmost try to negate the untoward incident by whatever means he could. Mother was worried at the course of action father would undertake, for mother knew too well father’s obstinacy. Mother pleaded that father should not get involved with other people’s business. But father think otherwise. CheOm was a close relative, as well his childhood buddy. In times of troubles CheOm needed all the support from those around him, especially from his relatives and close friends. To that father thought he was duty bound to help whatever he could. The Bugis decent has been known to protect each other in time of needs.

Father reasoned; that person was an outsider. He was arrogant. His horrendous bullying act was most despicable. That type of character had no right to be in our midst. According to father, the challenged fight was only the beginning (the tip of the iceberg). He believed that there was an agenda to it. According to father, there was this well known Maha Guru from Jawa Tegah, Indonesia responsible for the security and the safety of most in Kampung Seberang during the height of the bloody Bintang Tiga rule. He had since returned back to his homeland, leaving a vacuum in the silat hierichy of Kampung Seberang. A Maha Guru was a man of honor, commanded a supreme position and respected by various communities. After he left, the title aspired most of his protégé. The aspirants competing for the honor created splinter group among them. Some resort to bullying tactics to garner new followers, while others indulged using force spreading their influences to the neighboring communities. Father knew, CheOm’s challenger, was one of the aspirants from Kampong Seberang. He was looking for a scrape goat targeting new influence from the Malay Reserve Land.

To most CheOm was a goodhearted person. He was one of the kinds that easily befriended anyone, despite the different in age or status. As he was a generous contributor he was elected as the patron of our village Silat Group. The recognition landed him into trouble.

To begin with, the news of the newly formed Silat Group in our village had reached Kampung Seberang. It gave ideas to this particular silat aspirant. He came to town to harass the new silat leader. He found CheOm.

One fine afternoon while CheOm was having coffee at Pakcik Harun’s Coffee Shop by the pier, this person, for unknown reason insulted him and challenged him to a fight. In jest CheOm told him off, saying that he would only accept a challenge to a fight for a reason. To that the person resigned, but still hang around the Coffee Shop.

CheOm was delighted on the recourse. He called for a round of Kopi O, and started to brag about his skill in shining his leather shoes, using his secret portion of lime mixed with Kiwi Shoe Polish and his own saliva. Jokingly he claimed that his pair of shoes would have a lasting shine, and could at any time be used as a mirror. With that he raised his feet high for others to view, at the same time offering his drinking colleagues to use it as a mirror. However his act was short lived. Unfazed his adversary took the opportunity again to challenge him for a second time. He kicked CheOm’s feet and vigorously stepped on his shining shoes. CheOm quick to retort that it was a childish act. If the so called silat exponent wanted a fight, he should be brave enough to step on his songkok instead. To this the man grabbed CheOm’s songkok and threw it to the ground.

“I dare you, step on it,” CheOm dared the man. “I will if you don’t fight me,” replied the man, for he knew that CheOm was no match for him, but winning the fight meant a lot for his influence in the Malay Reserved Land.

CheOm accepted the challenge.

The time was fixed for the showdown – the following Friday afternoon. The venue was at Kedai Luar by the pier at an open space near the bus stand. The news spread like wild fire. Supporters from the Malay Reserve Land turn out in droves. Never the local mosque overflowed for the day’s Friday noon prayer. Father forbid me to go to town that afternoon. He had me confined to the house under close supervision of mother and my elder sister. Father convinced mother that our kampong folks would be ready to support CheOm, if the fight went out of hand. Secretly I saw father, took along his ‘tumbuk lada’ a small dagger used to be carried in person those days for personal safety. We all respected father’s decision and prayed that no untoward incident be felled him.

So that was what it was.

To our delight, father came back late that night unhurt. Actually there was no fight. After a verbal face-off both parties decided to settled their grouses on the advice of the local OCS ( Officer Incharge Of Police Station). The feud ended with a ‘Majlis Berdamai’ over nasi kunyit and coffee at Harun’s Coffee Shop.

Although the onlookers and supporters from both sides were not happy on the onset as they missed an interesting bout, they were also scared of the police actions as warned earlier by Sargent Mat Dom.

The tide was low for the last boat trip to Kampung Seberang that evening. Nabun the skipper was impatiently waiting at the end of the jetty to ferry those supporters from across river.

And while all the disappointed supporters were walking down the jetty ‘gangway’ into the boat, in jest Nabun poke fun at them by saying:“Masa datang tadi semua garang macam harimau. Masa balik semua tunduk macam pengecut.” (On arrival all looked fierce like tigers, now all lame like losers.)

Nabun’s comment offended one of the over zealous supporter. He gave a hard punch on Nabun’s chest. Nabun staggered and dropped some 30 feet down the jetty. He was stuck into the muddy river bed. Nabun had to be hauled up by using a long rope to the amusement all those along the pier.

It was a black Friday for Nabun the skipper.