Tomorrow is Cup Day. That’s Melbourne Cup to the uninitiated. It is the biggest day in Australia’s racing calendar. That’s horse racing to the uninitiated. To the totally uninitiated, The Melbourne Cup is a horse race. It is considered a marathon event of horse racing in terms of expansiveness and a 100 metre sprint event in terms of glamour. Winners of this race are traditionally placed alongside great sporting personalities of this country. This year’s hot favourite is Makybe Diva. The horse, that is. That’s her name. The jockey is Glen Boss and he too, will attain superstar status if he wins tomorrow. Of course there’s the small matter of whether this horse will run at all tomorrow. Apparently the track is too hard for a champion thoroughbred like her and there is real risk of injury if she runs tomorrow.

Anyway, the context of the above gaffe is – in Melbourne, it’s the first public holiday since the Queen’s birthday way back in June. Five months is a heck of a long time (for this still-very-Malaysian-person) between public holidays. Add to that the fact that the weather has definitely thawed out and you start to see people up and about in their T-shirts and shorts, and you get a resulting holiday mood. In fact most people packed and left by Friday afternoon, with many having left on Thursday afternoon. Most return to work only on Wednesday.

Holiday mood is bad for those not on holidays. You turn up for work but feel like you should be out there enjoying the blue skies and warm weather. Especially on a Monday. So here I am, in office on such a day. Two hours after getting in I’m fixing myself a cup of coffee and deciding to take a few minutes off and write this stuff.

I am still worried about a few things happening at work. Will come around to that at some point I guess but right now, I only want to record this worry. I don’t know if this will be sorted out in the right way…

Yesterday was a healing service in church. The praise and worship session was fantastic. I really kept my mind and heart on God and worshipped Him. I left all of my worries with Him as the service got under way and felt like God was there for me and accepted my worship.

As usual, in such a service there was prayer session at the end. I sat at my place, as I usually do and prayed on my own. Quietly. Elysia and Theresa left and joined the people in the kitchen to prepare the cakes and drinks as I stayed on. I then decided to “go up” for prayers. I did this for 2 reasons mainly. One was to avoid being asked to. I simply wanted to pre-empt this exercise of having someone “encouraging” me to “go up” for prayer. After all I have no plans to leave the church – wanted to remain in this one so I should “get with the program” I guess. The other was – why not? Just go and have pastor or his wife pray for me. I sure could use more of it. After all, it has been a wonderful morning of connecting with God and it felt right to continue seeking Him and be prayed for.

Julie (Pastor’s wife) prayed for me. I was afraid she would get some message about things I have been worried about and give me some unsought for news/message. I felt however I had to face whatever was coming and also felt with God’s help I will be able to deal with it. She prayed and I felt even closer to God. What she said in her prayers gave me much to think and be encouraged about. I thought about them for the rest of the day, as I do now. Anyway after she was finished with me and moved on to the next person (I did not fall down as in most people prayed for), I simply knelt down and prayed further. Even after returning to my seat I continued praying and before leaving the hall I knelt down and prayed again. I continued to feel like drawing to God in prayer. I don’t know if this means I need to draw strength from Him for some forthcoming events but I know I will always need to draw close to Him. I hope this feeling of needing God never fades. It is when I feel weak and draw close to Him that I truly feel my cup running over. Cup day tomorrow? I hope to spend some time praying.

 

 

I am rather worried for now…

A lady comes into the office twice a week to take care of administrative matters such as accounts, payroll and computers. She administers the Locus System the firm was using which was the system the law firm I was with in Kuala Lumpur had used. Shani Fulker   is a well-liked member of Sharrock Pitman Legal, the now well known law firm in Glen Waverley, some 20km east of Melbourne.

Yesterday Shani telephoned to say her boyfriend, Mick, had proposed over the weekend and she is now officially engaged. Everyone was excited. Especially since only a few days before that Shani had lost a very close friend through a motor accident and she was very hurt by that.

A couple of hours ago the office got together to have some cakes and coffee to celebrate this wonderful event. The rich chocolate cake from a Swiss cake shop in Blackburn Road was very good. In the midst of talking and laughing however, the topic switched, only momentarily, to some more sombre topics. Someone mentioned a matter one of the lawyers was handling, one involving an elderly lady who had demonstrated symptoms of dementia and was disputing some instructions she had given the firm some time back. Earlier in the day the boss and I had taken instructions from another very elderly couple who was clearly anticipating departure from this world and had wanted to plan their estates to optimise implementation of their wishes.

Right towards the end of our little tea party, a lawyer, Tim Whitehead, announced he and his wife were expecting their second child in April next year. Dylan Whitehead had only recently celebrated his first birthday so clearly Tim and Sarah Whitehead were able to enjoy some time together despite Dylan’s reported sleep disruptions.

So – in a space of three quarters of a day we talked of birth, marriage and death (the topics emerged in reverse order, unfortunately). I don’t know if it hit the other in this firm as much as it hit me. Last night I dreamt of my grandmother. Maybe it was because in the last few days whenever I read the bible, a photograph with my grandmother and my late grandfather in it which I use as a bookmark had etched in my mind. In my dream, I was riding in a tricycle with her. We were riding through the streets in Klang and I was enjoying just being with her. I know this is weird stuff but it was very pleasant.

In my grandmother, I see a thread running through the themes of birth, marriage and death. I see my grandmother’s bright and wide smiles and I hear her gusty laughter whenever she cuddled a great grandson or daughter. I remember her walking around in my room cuddling and cooing Elysia when she was only a few days old.

I see the same smile and hear the same laughter whenever there is a wedding in the family. The last time that happened was when a cousin (who happens to live here in Melbourne) got married in Ipoh late last year. Her joy was a little more muted compared to when my late grandfather was alive but it was still so infectious.

I remember sharing her sorrow when my grandfather died, in 2002. I always remember the time when he died, albeit not for the best of reasons. England was taking Argentina on in the 2002 World Cup and we all kept up a virgil in what was obviously going to be his final moments. I admit my mind was on the game and though many of us were at the house we kept our minds and eyes on the game as well. When he died early the next morning, the person I felt saddest for was my grandmother. They clearly loved each other so very much.

So even as the little office had a happy occasion this afternoon, my mind was taken to those timeless issues of birth, marriage and death. These life issues in turn made me think of my dear grandmother, who recently turned 86. I dreamt of her last night. I will always think of her fondly and affectionately. She showed me how to rejoice, how to love and how to ache. She showed me how to live.

 

PS: I have just received an email from a cousin in Ipoh. She has just given birth to her second child, a beautiful girl they named Sonya. Sonya Leanne Gill. I hope my grandmother cuddles her and lets out one of those gusty laughters. I can hear her now. She doesn’t coo. She uses this (nyonya?) phrase: ow kow ker… I never found out what that meant, exactly.

It is now beer o clock. Or, shortly. Somehow beer doesn’t taste the same when you are drinking alone. Especially when it is not even a warm day and you have chilled white wine in the fridge instead. In fact nothing taste as good as when you are drinking with some good friends. I still cant get over the irony – if this was KL, in about half an hour I would have lined up a few people to pop open a few cold ones. The neck ties would come off, the sleeves would be rolled up and maybe the feet would even be up on a coffee table in a lounge in office. The only problem would have been pricey beers, but we would have been used to paying through our noses for beers. Unless it’s in the club or office supplied drinks, drinking anywhere else would be expensive. Fast forward twelve months – in beer guzzling antipodean territory, where beer costs about a quarter to a third of KL prices (without conversion of currencies). What do I do? I stop drinking beer. I have the occasional glass of wine at home. In fact last Sunday was the first time I popped open a few cold ones with some relatives and friends and enjoyed some chatter.

I don’t know what to make of this – on the one hand I feel good for no longer stumbling home late at night after a few drinks. On the other hand, I miss the company. Alex, Eric, Edward, Raj, Eddie, Tucks, Joe, MS, Dex, Patrick, Kelly, … who did I miss out… all those drinking buddies still in KL and still paying through their noses for their drinks but happy. May be alcohol induced happiness which is therefore escapism but heck, the company was usually good and the atmosphere was often fun.

The bright side? My liver is taking a much longer breather and the missus is much happier these days. No more late nights. No more boozy late nights. No more beer o clocks.

 

I am still trying to find that balance. That balance between the sweet spot of imparting useful advice and admonishing for not acting with more care and responsibility. I write of course of kiddo. It hurts me whenever I see her countenance fall and she is not her usual happy bubbly self, a few minutes after I deliver my “lectures”.

 

It happened again this morning. It had something to do with her messy room. I went into her room to retrieve my handheld which she had used to read the Bible last night. This was just before we left the house. Her bed was a mess. Two pairs of used socks lie in various spots on the floor, with no particular order. I didn’t have time to notice anything else wrong – those were enough to turn my stomach a bit.

 

I didn’t however, lose my cool. I was measured and even tried to sound loving still. I asked if she had any particular difficulty keeping her room neat and tidy. Of course no answer was forthcoming and the usual chatter was also absent. When I dropped her off she looked sad and a little hurt. I suspect she was hurting because she upset me. I watched her walk towards her school gate, looking down as she walked. That was when I hurt too. I wanted to call her back and hug her but I was afraid that would break the wall and unleash a tide of tears, which would be even worse. Better to leave it till this evening when I would try to nurse her confidence back.

 

I know she has been trying. A few days ago on her own volition she cleaned up the study desk. A pile of folders and papers sitting on a corner of the desk was cleaned away and now a neater and much smaller pile sits there. The desk looks so much neater. She has also put in conscious efforts to set the table for dinner and help put things away after. I admire her for that. I admire and appreciate her growing contribution in housekeeping matters. I suppose that is what I will tell her tonight and hopefully strike that balance.

Buttonwood on Credit

It has been a long time since I last read anything from the Economist. My subscription ran out sometime last year and since we were moving to Melbourne I didn’t renew it. I recently visited the website and reacquainted myself with the very informative pieces I used to read regularly.

Buttonwood for example, was always fun to read and he had useful opinions too. This time around he suggests economically, things don’t look too good. Days of easy money or cheap credit are ending, if they have not already ended. Tough days are around the corner. Hmmm… where does this leave a new migrant still trying to find his feet in a new country, new firm (which itself is trying to find its feet) and hoping to buy a new home soon? Lately there has been articles in the financial and investment pages which suggest that home ownership is a false security. It is more sentimental than anything. You could for example (so the writers say) rent for the rest of your life and invest the money you would have otherwise paid towards your mortgage in superannuation and come out better than the home buyer. In any event I guess the signal is to wait it out a little longer at the very least. We will continue to look at houses I guess, but only to get even more ideas and kill some idle weekends.

Corrupt Malaysian Judiciary

I remember the mid 90’s when the Malaysian court suffered yet another loss of confidence. A big corporate litigation was heavily tainted with hints of corruption. This time around it is yet again tainted. I guess it doesn’t raise an eyebrow anymore. This big wick was purportedly the owner of all kinds of vice businesses. He just got away from the sort of detention that no one expects to. Of course, fruits of his unholy labour means he has loads of resources at his disposal and the article I read was not trying to shy away from hints of another rotten house of Denmark here. Like my blog title says: Malaysia Boleh.

Oxfam concert

Kiddo took part in a musical event last Monday. Well sort of. She was part of a “drumming” group representing her school in an Oxfam concert in Box Hill. No she isn’t a drumming genious. Anyone who could follow some basic beats could be part of the group. About 40 of them were. Theresa and I spent $10 each for the ticket and it was an enjoyable night watching children from Laburnum, Box Hill and Canterbury schools performing various musical items.

Kak Endon

Someone just emailed me, like 30 seconds ago, saying the PM’s wife has just passed away. I wonder how he will hold up. He has a very close relationship with her and her passing would do nothing for his weak tenure to the prime ministerial position. No doubt he would be closely observed within the next few weeks and if there are signs he is not holding up or no longer has the hunger or desire for the job, people like Najib would be smacking his lips.

There has been a long struggle over this issue for a while now. Every month there is either a prayer service or healing service. During these services, at the end of the regular service, there is a separate session where one is invited to walk up to the front for Pastor’s wife to pray for him or her, either for specific needs or for healing.

Coming as we do from a Methodist background, these practices are not our staple diet. While they are not alien (I first went for such a service maybe 25 years ago!) such practices never became part of us. We have always remained on the fringe, just either silently observing or in my case, often just sitting down and praying on my own.

I am not sure how I feel. On the one hand there are skepticisms galore in my head. Why for example, are temporary losses of consciousness an invariable occurrence? Some who administer the prayer even appear to take such a loss as indicative of the adequacy of prayer. They stop and move on to the next person when it happens and kept on praying for that person until it occurs. Sometimes it is a self-fulfilling thing. Lose consciousness and you’re with it. Don’t and somehow doubt and resistance are implied.

On the other hand, I know God works in all sorts of ways and we shouldn’t restrict His ministry to just the traditional way. Why for example shouldn’t we be prayed for with a hand on our heads and someone standing behind us to catch us when we fall? Why should He speak to us only through the Bible? Can He not minister to us through such “anointing”? By the same token, why do these practitioners limit God’s working to such laying on of hands? If God wishes to minister to us (and it is His sole will, not for us to trigger by adopting some practices) why must it take man to do it in any given way at all? I could for example, pray early in the morning next to my study desk/table at home and He can speak to me then?

Last Sunday an unscheduled prayer session took place. A guest speaker was there and he had this session at the end of the service. As usual I felt no prompting, urge or any “voice” for me to step forward so I sat next to my Theresa and just prayed on my own. As the session wears on and people started to move outside for their coffee, I too stepped out to lend a hand with the table setting.

I came back into the hall to take the car keys and 2 leaders were standing at the back of the hall. As usual they urged me to go forward. I politely declined but 1 of them prodded me a bit more and suggested he would come up with me. I felt trapped in a way but I didn’t mind very much. After all, I think I am mostly ready to respond if there was a clear and unequivocal signal from God that it was what He wanted me to do. So I went, and that speaker prayed for me. What was his special word for me? “Believe and you shall receive”.

As we were driving around that afternoon I told Theresa I didn’t like going out precisely because of what I actually experienced. I have always believed God will heal if it was His will. I know He can. I also believe He has His own reason and timing. While faith is a prerequisite it cannot be used to force God’s hand. Or can it? Anyway, it messed with my head and I wasn’t sure after that whether I was right in my approach. Was something amiss with my belief? Do I harbour any sins in me which blocked my receipt of such healing?

I exchanged these emails with an Uncle in Sydney today. Helped get things in perspective on a Monday morning…

 

 

Hi 6 Chek

 

Yes, I agree that Malaysia has much to offer. I often tell friends/ex-colleagues that my heart is with Malaysia, although my mind says we have to move out of that place. If my focus was to generate wealth, I would opt for Malaysia, because it is a developing economy and growth there is more and faster than a mature economy like Australia. However when you deal with mindless and inefficient bureaucracy, manipulation and corruption on a regular and extended basis, you wonder what is happening and where it would all end. This was true, I think, 20 years ago. It was still pervasive when I left last year and I hear it has not abated. There are no signs it would. I don’t have any reasons therefore to think things would be different by the time Elysia joins the work force and starts a family of her own. Would she think of leaving then? Can she then (say 10-15 years later) if she wanted to? I don’t know. I’m just thinking ahead and basing my thoughts on what is presently available.

 

I hate to say this but I doubt people like [       ] or Mr [     ] (Are you referring to the [              ] who owns the Concorde Hotel/Hard Rock Café in KL?) got to where they are without throwing major handouts to Malays especially Malay politicians or civil servants. It is an imperfect world for sure (there are some unbelievably bad specimens here in Melbourne as well) but here I can hope to quietly lead a life free of such corrupt elements.

 

Those of us who grew up and started our careers and families in Malaysia, will always have a nostalgia which would never die. It would remain, even only as a little amber. Maybe as we age that nostalgia will be rekindled and we long to see the land we grew up in. Just like Ah Kong used to remember China very fondly and visited frequently. I believe however, that Elysia would have a better chance of giving herself and her children/grandchildren much better lives here than in Malaysia. One can never be sure of decisions like this. Thankfully, we have a gracious God who will take care of us, and will take even our mistakes and change them into His blessings. So if this decision (to move and live here in Melbourne) turns out to be a mistake, I know God will work His miracles.

 

Yes, now every morning I pray for Theresa to be safe when she travels in the train to the city. Terrorism threat is very real here in Melbourne, especially after the latest events. In Malaysia we fear thieves, robbers and carjacks, kidnappings etc. Our old neighbour in Berkeley had snatch thieves rob his daughter/daughter in law right in his own car porch three times! Here we fear terrorist threats. There are all sorts of uncertainties these days – hurricanes, tsunamis, terrorism, economic turmoil and political upheavals. The only safe and peaceful place is in heaven. Theresa and I sometimes remind ourselves how frail life can be. We tell each other if anything happens to one of us, then we simply have to wait a while and meet again in heaven. I just “celebrated” my 40^th birthday recently and I feel the ravages of age even though I keep reasonably healthy and fit. Every time I see a recent photo of myself I notice my hairline receding.  Recently Enoch was here in Melbourne and we shared about our respective receding hairlines! Elysia also says lately, I have nagged her more than before. Thian Ser is going to Cambodia end of this month and talks of getting his 40-year old body ready. Everytime I encounter the slightest reference to the uncertainty of life, I am reminded of the teacher in Ecclesiastes who said everything is meaningless, and that the only thing a person should aim for is to fear God and enjoy his or her work. I try to do that everyday and although that is very often a struggle, it has for now, become my guiding light.

 

I am sharing all these with you because you have always been an encouraging and blessing in our lives. People like you make our struggles easier to cope with and keep us on the “straight and narrow”.

 

Thian Hwa

 

—– Original Message —–

From: Ian Teh

To: ‘Theresa Chew’ ; rjcteh@optusnet.com.au

Sent: Sunday, October 02, 2005 3:52 PM

Subject: Malaysian Budget – More Bumi Handouts

 

Leslie Lau’s Singapore Straits Time article was attached, as extracted from Jeff Ooi’s blog (the one which made a comparison with Brendan Pereira’s piece in the NST)