Month: July 2007

Angry No More


I have been worked up, for a very long time, over the many things wrong in Malaysia.

When I was a boy growing up in Klang, a port town approximately 20 miles from the capital city of Kuala Lumpur, I lived on a street with about half Chinese homes and half Indian ones. In school however, my classroom was probably reflective of the racial distribution of the country, ie approximately 60% Malays, 30% Chinese and just under 10% Indians with the odd boy out who was English. I also remember an American who was of Italian descent. For a long time, the idea of racial differences was non-existent as I played the games boys played then, with boys of all races. We played marbles, tops, “chopping”, “galah panjang”, “counter-countee” (or “konta-konti”) and there was no racial identification with any of these games. The Malay marble sharp shooter was as feared as the Chinese one. A Chinese boy can whack his top down, spin it with ferocious velocity and scoop it up onto his palm as skilfully as the Indian boy and not think twice about it being a traditional Malay game. There were no off-limits for “chopping”. A Chinese boy is as fair game as a Malay or Indian boy. Yes, we may change our Indian accented English to Malay when we spoke to a Malay boy but it was just a communication thing, without any racial thoughts in our then innocent minds. There was the Malay rascal as there was the Chinese or Indian one. There was the feared Chinese bully as there was the Indian or Malay one. On the soccer field, the Malay player was as good or as bad as the Chinese or Indian one. Only on the hockey pitch was one race more prominent. The Indians somehow played hockey more than the Malays or Chinese. The badminton champion was a Malay but the sepak takraw hero was a Chinese. In the classroom, there would be the usual competition to top the class and such competition came from all races. I have my usual suspects who were my competitors for “first boy” and these came from all races. Sure, the Malay guy gunning for first spot would leverage against his superiority in the Malay language and the Chinese boy would have to pull his strength from the other subjects, usually mathematics. The Indian boy usually does well in English but everyone had a fair shot to top the class.

 

Racial differences simly did not register then, at least not in any significant or bigoted way.

 

Then, very slowly, we were made to feel and experience the differences. The Malay boy could get into a select school (usually in the capital) a lot more easily than the rest of us, though we all did equally well. There were schools only Malays could get into. There were also scholarships only Malays could apply for. Then we realised some schools had their hockey team wear full length track pants during games, even in the stifling tropical heat of Malaysia. And the Malays started wearing different clothes during Friday. Then we realised more and more differences. Some of these differences became more obvious. Some would stay away from activities during the fasting month and it became a bigger spectacle over time as more and more Malay kids would stay away from more and more activities at this time. Then after a while, they even got to leave school early during this period of time.  That they were a “special” bunch was unmistakable. Yet, just the mere awareness of this difference didn’t annoy or disturb me. There was no ill feeling. The only sentiment was one of slight unease but I was happy to just move along and do my thing.

 

When I was in University in Sydney however, I started to slog really hard for my keeps. I had previously written about what I had to do, to make sure I could pay the rent and not go hungry, as well as contribute as much as I could towards University fees. As I slogged, I realised many Malay students had it easy. They got married and had children while in University. Many changed Universities – from a “better” one to a “more ordinary” one, or switched from a challenging course to one less so. Some of these Malay students who were more industrious worked part time jobs but you soon see them in fancy clothes, buying new computers and going back to Malaysia for holiday, with their earnings. Kudos to them for sure for earning their keeps but the earnings went to luxury items (by my standards anyway) while mine went to bare essentials. By the time I finished my degrees, I had set my family poorer by about RM20,000. I had from my earnings, saved almost that amount, which I used for my airfare back to Malaysia and to start my new life back there. Soon however, I realised I had to battle again.

 

The preferential treatment dished out to the Malays when I was in University in Australia, was magnified many times over back in Malaysia. Getting a job, buying a home, investing, applying for anything from local, state or federal government, all these major areas of day-to-day life showed up the preferential treatments that the Malays received. It was still okay, because I had my job, earned my promotions, made my investments, established my network of friends and professional relationships – generally lived life. I could not however, eliminate the effect of being a victim of discrimination. It built up over time. Initially it was just a snide remark against it. As it became something in your face, the effect escalated.

 

Many things change when you have a child. As a parent you start to think ahead a lot more. You start to think not just about the battles you have to wage, but also how to equip your child for the battles she has to wage, as she grows up and goes through life.

 

As a parent, I no longer just get angry at injustices and inequitable policies. I start to think about how these injustices and inequitable policies would handicap my child’s battles. Life can be hard enough without these issues. If the energy spent on dealing with these matter could be channelled elsewhere, how much more productive, beneficial and therefore edifying our effort and work would be.

 

How then do I minimise the incidence of having my child battle these fronts, and how do I create better battlefields for her? By exercising my voting rights? I voted in 2 elections. Both saw the BN win huge victories. In one of them I worked for an opposition party. Starting from Lim Guan Eng’s arrest, I started being active in engaging in social and political causes. All along, I worked in the corporate financial sector. I saw how government officials use racial discriminatory policies to enrich themselves and their friends and relatives. I saw how political and business leaders robbed, stole and pillaged. Just before I left the country, I spoke up in my workplace too. An UMNO leader who is now the subject of blog scorns, was in the company I worked in. He mouthed off the usual racist policy hogwash and when challenged, stated these were givens and could not be questioned. I knew then where my child’s battlefield lies. It wasn’t in the country I grew up in. Not when the racist policies would continue. Not when the religious bigotry has started to take on very dangerous proportions. We left Malaysia 3 years ago.

 

It was a difficult rebuilding process. Our wealth here is only worth one third of what it was in Malaysia. Factor that into the higher standards of living here and we are no where near where we were in Malaysia. Professionally, my wife and I had to start again as well. From head of departments hiring and firing, we are now minnows seeking to be hired and avoid being fired. I went through 2 difficult jobs before landing my present one. We have had to move house twice, in search of equilibrium in terms of commuting, schools and neighbourhoods.

 

So there – much more to write but for now that will do. I just want to make an entry to the effect that I have been angry and frustrated but will be no more. I hope to now put it all past me and not get worked up anymore. I will try not to put Malaysian leaders down anymore, because my God wants me to love them, notwithstanding their acts and my feelings. As a start, I will try to stop this anger. Maybe.

UMNO’s continuing bloody mindedness


Badawi the Malaysian PM continues to sleep, obviously. By parotting allegations which obviously cannot be substantiated, he continues to miss the beats which matter. To those who arent sleeping like him of course, they know these were just hopeless clutches at straws.

The biggest culprit responsible for inciting racial hatred are some of the UMNO leaders, not bloggers. Whenever UMNO calls for sensitivities, it is because they have been shown up as racist imbeciles. Slander to them is when their wanton thievery is described for what it is. Thieve and liars. That’s what UMNO leaders have been for a long time now and continue to be. KJ, the only ones who continue to demonstrate they are above the law are UMNO leaders. But then that’s nothing new to Malaysians.

QED – RPK Proved It


If there was ever any doubts that the dominant Malaysian ruling party and the police are imbeciles, Raja Petra Kamarudin has dispelled it completely. If the Agong and the Sultans in Malaysia are any smarter than these imbeciles, they should get a legal opinion about what Raja Petra has suggested and move to strike if this opinion backs it up. No time to lose ye Kings…

What Are They Thinking


What were they thinking when they lodged that police report against Raja Petra Kamarudin? That they would intimidate him and others into keeping quiet? Martin Luther King Jnr once said a riot is the language of the unheard. So I guess the bullies who make up Malaysian the dominant party in the government thinks it can hold down dissent by keeping a guy like Raja Petra a few hours in an Umno sentry that is the Dang Wangi police station? What were they thinking?

No, you cant shut this one down. Lock him up and other would continue airing all the dirty laundry, gladly. Dont they realise there are now many who dont live in Malaysia and who are too willing to give it a shot to try and make it a more decent place and undo all the damage these racist, bigotted imbeciles have inflicted on the country? What were they thinking?

No, I dont think even nice, pleasant Malaysians would take this one lying down. Maybe this is an incident to start the ball rolling. I dont know. I’m just hoping the penny drops and the rulers, who have long been an a drunken spree of power and money grab, would wake up and realise they have to face up to it all one day, in the afterworld if not in the here and now.

Weekends, and House Blessings


Missing my real weekends

It should have felt like another tiring weekend. It didn’t feel that way. It was probably because we have become used to this cycle.

Last Thursday, my boss had her car in the workshop for some work done on it after an accident earlier in the week. Being the kind soul that she is, she asked me to use her car park while her car sits in the workshop. I had a seminar on Thursday so I did not make use of the facility until Friday. It was great on Friday because I left early and actually got home by 6.30! It took me all of 25 minutes to get home so we could get some dinner and be in church in time for kiddo’s youth program. She had to be in church by 7.55pm and we just about made it. We usually trot in just before 8.30, much to kiddo’s chagrin.

It was freezing cold again on Friday night. I was again very tired so though we were in church early, I couldn’t get very much out of the session. When we got home just before 11pm, I was so tired I gave it just about enough time for the electric blanket to warm the bed before I crashed out.

We had to be up early on Saturday morning. Theresa and I, that is. We had decided to sell our house and it was going to be an open inspection day later in the afternoon. Though our house is generally no where near slum level we still had to make sure we spruced it up the best we could, for an occasion like this. So in went the bicarbonate soda before vacuuming, and extra cleanser squirted into the sinks and toilet bowls. Everything was arranged to add what little aesthetic sense we could, including turning on a mini water feature.  As a final touch, I took out my three favourite CDs for a hopefully classy touch to the whole set up. It was a choice among Stacy Kent, Benny Carter and Glen Miller. I went for Stacy and left Benny for the next day (Sunday). Theresa replaced the floor mats and put plush new towels on the racks and I made sure nice bottles of red went on the other remaining rack in the kitchen.

In the midst of the vacuuming and scrubbing, Theresa took time out to send kiddo to Borders at Chadstone to pick up JK Rowling’s final rendition – The Deadly Hallows. By the time they came back the house was ready and we went out to lunch at Proud Peacock, a Vietnamese place in Glen Waverley we haven’t been to for some time. Kiddo started devouring the book. Well, as much as she could in the tiny restaurant. After lunch she had to go for her math class so Harry had to wait for another hour or so. When she finally found time to get stuck into it was almost 3pm. We were doing our grocery shopping so she found herself a little table in a café, we bought her a cup of coffee and off she went into Hogwarts et al.

By the time we got home it was almost 4pm. We found a soiled floor mat, traces of dirt on the carpet in the hallway, and a note saying the open inspection was a “success”. A total of 19 groups walked through our home within the 30 minute period. Stacy sang right through and the agent thought that was pretty good. I cleaned up the little mess, and got ready to cook dinner as Kiddo tore through the pages. By the time we finished dinner and I was prepping for the “Shawshank Redemption” which was screening on channel 9, she had finished the book. That was it – all 7 in the series finished. No, the boy protagonist did not die, I was told. It wasn’t a dark finish after all or some misguided Sunday school principal would have another string added to his bow and rile against it again.

Shockingly, I slept towards the end of Tim Robbins’ escape but woke up in time for Morgan Freeman to join him in Mexico to finish off that superb story. Theresa had dozed off as well so we all ended another Saturday feeling tired.

After church on Sunday, we went home to again add some touches to the home for a repeat of the previous day’s open inspection. I put Stacy away however and had Benny Carter on. It turned out that it provided the near perfect ambience. The agent called me on the phone earlier today and said with the sunny afternoon and crisp cold air, Benny’s band  played a perfect backdrop to create another frenzy of interest in the house among the 18 groups of people who made their way through the house. While this group deposited yet more dirt on my mat and hallway, we were in a church friend’s house, soiling theirs along with almost the whole church. B & T and their baby S had just moved into their new home not far from ours, 2-3 months ago and finally organised a house warming do. We got home close to 6pm, I did some vacuuming, ironing and had to prepare lunch. We didn’t need dinner so at least there weren’t any major messing around in the kitchen before we settled down to catch some shut eye. As I finally climb into bed, I felt like it was yet another weekend in which I didn’t feel like I had my needed rest.

 

Malaysian connection

Yet another old Malaysian friend is visiting Melbourne so I caught up with him for lunch today. An ex-colleague, he recently retired as a chief money man in a banking group and is now here to spend time with his family. I asked him what he thought of Malaysia, as we sat there in the Belgian Beer Café in the very elegant Ormond House next to my office building. He gave me that very same bleak outlook, just like many before him. In the past 6 months or so, I have met here in Melbourne, with a number of Malaysians who are senior executives in leading corporations in Malaysia. Not a single one of them expressed an outlook bright enough to want to have their children work and establish their lives there. Everyone one of them thought the future of their children is outside of Malaysia. The political bankruptcy, the social disintegration and the growing conviction that unless something drastic takes place it is going to be a financial basket case, are features no longer in dispute by all honest Malaysians.

I was once accused of being overly negative about Malaysia. This was 2-3 years ago. Now some of my then accusers have themselves become negative. I am sure there are some, maybe many who remain positive. I am not sure though if their optimism extends to their children as well, i.e. given a chance, they would like their children to grow up and build their lives in Malaysia. I recently shared with some people, my long held view that Malaysia is past the stage where incremental change is still possible. You can only play racial politics which include religious bigotry and bullying, for that long before you realised you have played with flint and fuel once too often. Yet is this is what it takes to change Malaysia for the better, then it wont be a bad thing. The problem of course, is that this could all have been avoided had the leaders been less greedy, more responsible and more God-fearing. As it is, I hope I am wrong but I believe it is now too late. Any change for the better can now come only at a costly price. A few months ago, a church member who used to work for an oil exploration division of a Malaysian government foundation, said Malaysia has been living a fairy tale which would soon be ending. I thought then that it was amusing that an Australian of Austrian descent should provide such a caustic but insightful opinion about Malaysia to a Malaysian Chinese. It would have been truly amusing had he been only joking.

 

House blessing

Like I said previously, yesterday we attended a house warming party at B & T’s new home. As is the practice of Christian gatherings of this nature, the party was preceded by a few persons praying. Just before the prayers were said, a leader went around prepping everyone, saying there would be a house blessing session with some prayers. One of the leaders then prayed for the blood of Jesus to cleanse the house. A few weeks before, J & J had moved into their new home with their 2 kids and a few days before they moved in, the leaders were also asked to go and bless the house.

I know I am probably treading on thin ice here but I cannot understand this practice. I must confess this practice sounds like a Hindu asking his priest to bless his house or a Buddhist asking a monk to do the same. The Hindus even do it for their cars. What does this mean for a Christian?

Where do we draw the line, if the rationale is that we want God to bless where we dwell? Many spend hours in their cars every day, so why not have a car blessing every time someone purchases a new car? I know one of our church members (and consequently the leaders!) would be terribly busy then as he changes cars every few months! We also spend hours at work every day. Do we have office blessings? Some are on the road all the time, staying in hotels frequently. Do we have hotel blessings? What about school blessings? Our kids are there for the most part of every week day. Maybe when someone purchases a business, there should be a shop blessing then. We are going to look like animists before too long, if we continue with this. It would be too similar to priests or monks chanting in some Chinese restaurants to “bless” the business there. There is something I cannot put my finger on but this practice bugs me.

We are the temple of God, according to the apostle Paul. That means God dwells in us. That has to be the overriding and therefore guiding principle for the above, or is there more to it? If God dwells in us, wherever we are, there God is. Does God dwell in our house separately from dwelling in us? Is there a sense in which God dwells in us but not in our house? Admittedly there is room for the idea (or fact) that there are dwellings in which for some reason spirits linger on. It is however, only a tiny room as such dwellings are few in number. It would be extremely rare, I believe. In addition, God is all-present. He is everywhere. If there is a haunted house therefore, one where poltergeists dwell, it may be because some one has conjured up something which specifically allows these spirits to roam free and do their thing. This has to be the exception except in those places where the practice of devil worshipping is wide spread. It then becomes a situation where God is not present, which is against the norm. God is everywhere unless He is specifically not wanted. Otherwise, He is God and Lord, and He is sovereign. He rules ad Lord God and reigns, but not against human free will. I sincerely believe that. For that reason, we don’t have to ask for God’s blessings and dwelling to be in each place we go to. We ask for special “prayer covering” only when we are headed to some oppressed places, where spiritual oppression – ie where God’s presence is oppressed – is rife. Well, that is my belief. Do I bring this up with the leaders? I already feel like an oddball in our church anyway, asking questions where they are not usually asked and raising stuff which Theresa thinks I shouldn’t raise. She thinks I shouldn’t be so “questioning” all the time. I don’t want to cause any problems. That was why I “resigned” from home group leadership about 6 months ago. It is easier to “live” with these issues – ie not bring them up – if I am not in a “wider leadership” role. As a leader in any capacity, I would be more compelled to raise issues concerning practices of the church. Is this a cop out? I hate to cause issues. That’s all.

Brrrr


The front page of the Herald Sun today had a big picture of 2 little girls playing with snow. They were somewhere in Dandenong, I believe – not too far from where we are. It was that cold yesterday, yes. I was freezing my socks off while waiting for the train last night. It doesn’t help that I now have a hairline that has begun to beat a slow but steady retreat. I now therefore, have thinning insulation upstairs. A beanie generally helps but mine was a freebie from a slab of Guinness and freebies go, this one is pretty Spartan as well. It is not at all rich in texture as the beverage wonderfully is. But it’s the only one I have that doesn’t make me look like a kid in Dandenong on a cold morning so it’d have to do. It is enough anyway, to keep my crown from just about frozen. I still have some hair to compensate for an inadequate Guinness beanie.

Last night when I checked the weather it said the temperature was about 3 degrees but felt like 0.23 degrees. I told kiddo who promptly opened the door and went outside to have a feel of what it was like in near zero temperature. The weatherman said in the radio this morning that yesterday and today was as cold as this winter was going to get. Apparently after today, conditions would become warmer. After recent struggles to get to maximum of 11 degrees (it hovered around 5 degrees for most of yesterday), this is very comforting news. Hopefully we would all become a little brighter in outlook as well, as all I have been doing lately is hunkering down with my work. A cousin of mine who lived in Melbourne for a short while, once suggested the Melburnians’ obsession with footy (the Gaelic version of football but played with an oval, rugby like ball) is actually a ploy to help us go through the winter. He may well be right. He’s the smart one in the family after all, being an Asean scholar and all. He’s now a well known urologist in Harry’s domain (calls himself a plumber). Smart as he is, his hair has receded as badly as mine too so I bet he’d be wearing some headwear too if he was here and it would have very little to do with any sense of fashion.

 

Rain, Foul Cops and Bench


Water! Water!

I think it rained all day today. It was very windy when I went in to work this morning and when I went to the building next door for a meeting at 9am, it had started to rain. By the time that meeting was over and I made my way back to the office, it was bucketing down. I think from then on it just went on and on. I don’t know when it stopped but when I finally crawled out of the office a little after 7, it was still raining lightly and boy was it cold. I was telling someone the other day, how I was starting to feel like an ageing tropical creature and I felt the truth of that statement again tonight.

It has rained so much in Melbourne recently, that the state government is starting to think about lifting water restrictions at the current level – 3a, I think. As it stands, we have a pretty good chance of scaling back to a level 3 restriction. I’m not sure if this means we can then wash our cars but certainly, the reservoirs have edged back to close to 33%, up from a near Level 4 restriction of 26% or something like that. So it has been a great winter so far. Cold as it has been, the rain has been a much welcomed inconvenience to Melburnians. Actually I have not heard anyone complain about the wet so far.

I remember how wet it was too, when we first came to Melbourne in October 2004, Theresa and I stayed in her Uncle Seng/Aunt Ann’s house in Blackburn. It was a big house with 6 bedrooms spread across 3 levels. Theresa and I stayed in a bedroom at the lowest level, which was a basement but converted into a beautiful AV room. Our room was at a corner of this AV room, just to the back of the laundry and ironing room. Theresa stayed for just over a week and returned to Malaysia. I stayed on, getting things ready for the family to move over from Malaysia. I stayed with them for about 3 weeks, during which the bottom/basement floor flooded over twice. The rain was so plentiful then. I remember waking up about 2am one night, by the commotion which went on as the family realised what had happened downstairs. As I sat on the bed trying to make sense of what was happening, I realised my feet were in about 3-4 inches deep of water.

 

We ended up spending the whole night cleaning up and poor Uncle Seng/Aunt Ann probably spent the next few weeks worrying about the house. They fixed the problem and have since sold the house and ironically, since then, Melbourne has faced a prolonged drought, until now. I hope the new owners of that wonderful house would not have to contend with flooding problems.

Thin Skinned Malaysian Police Bullies Young Man

There is a young man now being persecuted and abused by the police in Malaysia. Nathaniel Tan is a staff of an opposition party and runs his own blog which is critical of the ruling party, the government and the police. The thin-skinned police, instead of investigating the wrongdoings alleged in Nathaniel’s blog, has chosen to pick on the whistleblower instead. Nathaniel is a young non-Malay male – easy target for the cowardly police and the establishment. Nathaniel’s allegations include police corruption, police collusion with organised crime and the UMNO lead government’s corruption and incompetence. None of these allegations are unique in that scores of other persons have made these allegations, including Malaysia Today. Nathaniel is singled out probably because he is an ordinary citizen, has no connections and is non-Malay – easy and convenient target for these imbecile cowards.

I repeat my sincere belief that Malaysia is beyond incremental change if it is to regain any sense of being a just and equitable society. It was heartening to see the picture of a vigil just outside the police station where Nathaniel is detained but more and bigger-scaled shows of dissent and protest is necessary. The cancer has been allowed to fester for too long that major procedures are now necessary.

 

Why haven’t there been more widespread dissent and outcry over the events which have taken place in Malaysia in the recent past? While the previous government under Mahathir had been merely iron-fisted, this Badawi government has been both ineffectual and iron-fisted. You may put up with less freedom if you think that is the price you pay for stability and prosperity, a la Singapore. But if your freedom is taken away without giving you stability and prosperity in exchange why do you remain quiet, docile and accepting anyway? Not that stability and prosperity are good reasons to take away your freedom but at least it is understandable if you said you were willing to put up with a lack of freedom because you need stability and financial security. Not good enough, but understandable. Lately however, Malaysians suffer in all respects. Poorer economic conditions, poorer law and order, poorer public delivery systems, poorer press, and poorer freedom, including religious freedom. I suppose Malaysians are nice people, especially the ethnic minority. They would take a lot of beatings and bullying and would remain pleasant and not show dissent, and the bullies know this.

Malaysian Bench – Racist Non-appointment

Gopal Sri Ram is the most senior of the Malaysian Court of Appeal judges. Yet they wont make him the chief. The previous chief died in May and the replacement is yet to be appointed. The most senior candidate also happens to be the smartest and most hardworking one. But no, they would not appoint him. Not even when they have just elevated 8 High Court judges to the Court of Appeal and there was no chief to preside over the oath taking by these newbies. Poor Gopal has been there since 1994! He has made decisions which the wider community agree as being sensible and smart. He should be elevated and sitting on the Federal Court bench as he is smarter and works harder than many of them sitting there now. Not only has he not been elevated, they wouldn’t make him chief at the Court of Appeal. Maybe if his name was Ghafar instead of Gopal, maybe something like Ghafar Rahman instead of Gopal Sri Ram, maybe then he would be made chief. That’s Malaysian justice for you. The best and most hardworking is often the one not doing the job. Is it any wonder the standards of the bench have plummeted? But then again this is true not just with the judiciary. All public sector offices are plagued with the same disease of racism, with race and religion forming the basis of appointments, not intelligence and industry.

 

Racial Discrimination in East and West Malaysia


Malaysia is split into east and west Malaysia. West is where I grew up and like many westies, when I think about Malaysia, I invariably think about west Malaysia. I often forget what it’s like in east Malaysia. This is unforgivable, seeing that I really liked places like Kuching, Miri and Sabah and that many of my great friends are from Sarawak. In fact, Sabah continues to give me great memories – mount KK was exciting and the islands at the TAR Park are gorgeous, as is the Karambrunai resort off Kota Kinabalu.

Just how different east Malaysia is from its cousins in the peninsular, came into apparent focus last Saturday night, when I met up with 2 other lawyers to chat about work and life in general. 1 of them was a Sarawakian and the other was a westie. When this westie and I talked about the discrimination we experienced in Malaysia, our eastern friend had a curious look on his face. It was apparent that he didn’t agree and thought it strange we should say that.

My father was a self-employed trader. In his younger days he’d ply his trade from a commercial vehicle, often a lorry or a commercial van. There was a chendol man (chendol is a Malaysian sweet dessert) who told me he could sell his chendol anywhere and not worry about local council enforcement agencies hounding him, as he was a Malay. If it was a Chinese selling noodles, there would be summons galore for sure. Ditto the Indian rojak seller (rojak is a Malaysian salad with spicy peanut sauce – mouth watering stuff). Whenever I buy my chendol from this Malay seller, I’d wonder what it was like when my father had to ply his trade on the streets, vending anything from soy and chilli sauce to toys and playing cards. Certainly my father in law constantly regaled how the Klang Council harass him over his textile shop on a constant basis, whereas the Malay foodstalls on the same street as his shop barely copped anything. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

When I was in primary school, if you scored 5A’s in the primary assessment exam, you stood a chance of getting into a select school in the capital. We all knew in these schools, a Chinese would be totally out-numbered by Malays. A good friend of ours went there and confirmed that to be true, not that it needed verification. The big number Malay students tend to suggest there are many of them with 5As’ but we all knew if you were a Malay, you didn’t need 5A’s to get into those schools. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

The primary school assessment exam was the first of many levels in school, where we learned we were different from the Malays not just in terms of the colour of our skin or the sort of food we ate. They could do things we couldn’t do, go places we couldn’t go. They were special. This differentiation went all the way to the University. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

When I was in University in Sydney (UNSW), I stayed in various places, as each year I would seek out cheaper rooms or flats. In my final years, I found a really cheap place – in a dilapidated backroom on top of a shop. To go to the loo, I had to get out of my room, walk down a corridor and get into the flat. I had to work to pay for my fees and my board, cheap as it was. I worked on weekends in a fish market – did it for close to 6 years. Had to be in by 5am and worked through till 5-6 pm on Saturdays and often on Sundays as well. I delivered newspapers at 5.30 in the morning 3-4 times a week, on weekdays. In between classes, I worked in the University faculty doing odd jobs – in the print room, moving furniture, etc. I worked full time in a hospital as a ward assistant during each summer, while also holding down the fish market and newspaper delivery jobs. All through this, I knew a Malay guy who lived nearby. He was alone when I first met him. He later got married and had kids. He didn’t do any part time work. While I slogged away trying to make ends meet, he was busy having babies. I earned every penny while every one of his came from the Malaysian government. I think many of us know someone like this Malay friend of mine. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

When I was working in Malaysia, I regularly drew up contracts for Chinese who used Malays to tender for contracts. Stock standard requirements in Malaysia. Every commercial lawyer in Malaysia has loan contracts, trust deeds, powers of attorney, transfer instruments, management agreements, shareholder agreements and all these other instruments locked away in a drawer somewhere, designed to protect the Chinese businessman who needed the Malay to open doors. They were known as the Ali Baba schemes. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

As a lawyer in financial institutions in Malaysia, I had also had to draw up correspondence with regulators, either telling them we have the required minimum 30% Malay staff in a given level of management, or explaining why we didn’t. I had to sit in meetings where management had to agonize over paying Malay graduates just to fill the payrolls and report to the regulators. The Malaysian Securities Commission and the KL Stock Exchange had to be satisfied that you had enough Malay licensed dealers, before they agreed to issue licenses to non-Malay dealers. Every month I had to go over the reports and come up with the requisite correspondence with the regulators. Many securities dealing companies simply employ Malay graduates to fill up the quotas and as these “staff” could not be trusted to sit at the dealing board, they were asked to perform other tasks, including clerical tasks. Some don’t even bother to show up for work. This was true when I first got involved in the securities dealing industry in 1994 and when I left it in 2004. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

When I was the Company secretary of a bank in Malaysia, I had to submit profiles of potential board candidates to Bank Negara, the regulator of banks in Malaysia. The forms invariably had Malay/Non Malay boxes which you had to tick. The more Malays you had on your board, the better you got on with the regulator, especially if these Malays were from the establishment, ie approved by the ruling party and its goons. Each board meeting is preceded by long talks about golf and women and trips abroad. They would come in their jacket and tie and know next to nothing about the industry. They wouldn’t take a second look at the minutes, resolutions, letters or contracts you drafted. They only needed a nod from their puppet masters in the ruling party to put their signatures down. In my present place, each director is an industry expert. Their contribution is quick, meaningful and weighty. They had to be interviewed by the company through a selection process. The draft you gave them would be circulated and re-worked through half a dozen times before all are happy to sign, and it all takes 2-3 days. That imbecile in that Malaysian bank would probably have taken the whole week to get to speak to his master, before returning the document to you without any questions asked, signature grandiosely and artistically penned. Why were these buffoons there? Simply because they are Malays. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

The list goes on – subsidised housing, scholarships, promotions, I once foolishly got into an argument with a Malay in a parking lot. Over a car park space, obviously. I was so incensed at his “holier than thou, you migrant” attitude I told him there wasn’t yet a Malay quota for car parks, and walked off without giving in. The discrimination is so pervasive in the peninsular I wonder how my east Malaysian friend could have denied it. Maybe it is very different in the east.

Sharing the Load for Now


This is week 2 of the 6 weeks our department is/would be down by a lawyer. We were pretty busy even before this lawyer started her 6-week leave. Since then, I have been getting in early (between 7 and 7.30 most mornings) and leaving late as well (usually by about 7). In fact today was the first time I got in around 8, and that was because I was in the gym this morning and I was dashing for the 6:56, I realised I had forgotten my ring! By the time I went back to the gym and searched the locker room, I had to catch the 7:18.

This absent lawyer must be having the time of her life – she got married last week and is now on her honeymoon with her husband somewhere in Italy. They would be making their way through Europe, including Barcelona, my favourite European city.

I was in Barcelona twice – once for the famous victory of Manchester United over Bayern Munich in the final of the Champions League competition in 1999, and before that, on holiday with Theresa, her father and a couple of his friends. Apart from the very beautiful buildings and the always lively La Ramblas, I remember doing my run early in the morning, through the streets of Barcelona. I remember running up to the Olympic stadium, the home of Espanyol, the lesser known football club of Barcelona. Anyone who watched the opening ceremony of the 1992 Barcelona Olympics would have remembered the archer lighting up the flame from afar. I also remember dining alfresco in the La Ramblas, sipping a sangria and having a paella while watching restaurant owners chasing down non-paying English patrons. The English had swarmed Barcelona and statues and busts were all decked out with England and Manchester United jerseys and bathed in beer.

One of best parts of a holiday in a new city/country is the early morning runs through its streets. In Malaysia, I had done my runs on the streets of Langkawi, Penang, Ipoh, Cameron Highlands, Pangkor Island, Fraser’s Hill, Genting Highlands, Seremban, PD, Melaka, JB, Kuantan, Cherating, Kuching and Kota Kinabalu. I feel like there may have been some other small towns which I cannot now recall. Of course, my runs in Klang, KL, PJ, Subang Jaya and Shah Alam aren’t included.

Outside of Malaysia, I have done my runs on the streets of Bangkok, Phuket, Balasore (Orissa, India), Perth, Gold Coast, London, Manchester, Cote d’Azur and of course, Barcelona and Melbourne. It is in these runs you feel the life of each of these places starting each day. It is usually the old or the womenfolk who are up early. In Balasore, the run had to be terminated fairly early as battles with dogs and dung proved too much. The busier places I remember were Bangkok and Kuching. Maybe I started my runs there later. Perth was great as I ran along the river and up towards Kings Park, then down towards Fremantle before I realised if I continued on to Fremantle, it would be an additional 28km for a round trip! Theresa would not only be wide awake by then she would also have sent out a search party to look for me!

Always, the end of the run brings an exhilaration which confirms in my mind the benefits of endorphins. I’d be ready for the day, aches and tired limbs notwithstanding. I would also be less wary of tasting new foods or simply indulging in anything I wish as we were on holiday. I would feel especially free to have a few cold ones in the course of the day…

Those sweet memories are a distant past now, as I hunker down to bear the added workload each day, and when I get home at night, think only of finding enough time for Kiddo and Theresa. It’s great having a family to return to each day – something this colleague of mine would surely discover in the near future. For that reason, though I bear a load now, I feel happy for her and her new husband. Bless them, God.

The Better PM


Is John Howard a racist? That’s what a Maori MP recently accused him of. This obscure little rant made its way to my inbox a couple of days ago. It is always good to receive stuff like that – makes one think a little.

The basis of the accusation brought by that Maori MP seems to be Howard had acted to deprive the Aboriginal community in various Northern Territory settlements of their basic human rights. What Howard did recently was he sent troops to the Northern Territory to ensure the alcohol and pornography induced child abuse was dealt with an iron fist.

The primary concern was the welfare of the Aboriginal children. Was this just cause to impose conditions so harsh which tantamount to deprivation of basic human rights? I think so. I would have thought this a no-brainer. Most Australians’ complaints haven’t been against what Howard did but against the fact that he had waited so long before acting. The cynics would rightly say the timing of his actions, with the federal elections just around the corner made it all look very suspicious as to his motives.

Howard has been known to take actions which can widely be interpreted as being a racist. When in opposition, he advocated reduction of Asian immigration, alluding to an affinity for a 50’s and 60’s White Australia policy. He also infamously turned back a shipload of refugees, copping accusations that he was playing the popular race cards before an election. Of course the fact that Asian immigrants have been arriving by the shiploads in record numbers under his watch, takes the wind out of the accusation somewhat. The image has somehow stuck however and instances like this recent action with Aboriginal communities are great fodder for his critics. However, so far few have made such a stark attack as this Maori MP has done.

I suppose most see the interest of children, be they Aboriginal or Zulu children, as a cause almost always worth defending. These children have been neglected or abused for so long. Any action to remedy the situation necessarily includes depriving the parents of rights and even certain resources – actions which are too easy to attract the racism accusation, especially to those predisposed to think either of action against Aboriginal or action by Howard, as racist to start with.

I don’t think you can label Howard a racist on this latest act. I don’t know about his other actions but you cant throw the racist tag on him for this one. He has, for the most part, been a terrific PM for Australia and if he is to be undone, it wont be for this.

Compare then Howard and Badawi. Howard has presided over one of the longest period of sustained economic prosperity in recent times. It has seen growth and development in the sciences (a few Australian Nobel Prize for Medicine/Scientific Research winners in recent years), the arts (Booker Prize winners, great movie makers and actors, renown Jazz composers, stage performers, painters), sports, and Australians are now among the most popular people in the world today. Europeans and Americans love them, as do Indians, Chinese, Japanese, Koreans and many other Asian countries. Only countries like Indonesia and MalaysiaAustralia. Australia is of course no heaven. High taxes, drug and alcohol abuse, drought, highly regulated, and increasing derogation of the nucleus family are some of my personal criticisms. Against its achievements however, I think Howard’s report card isn’t too bad. continue to snipe at

Under Badawi’s watch, which part of a Malaysian’s life has improved? Just today, someone sent me an email with a statement by Lim Kit Siang. This is just one of his latest statements, yet another one of his endless statements. He never seems to grow weary of them. Good for him. This latest statement is about Badawi’s response to specific allegations of massive corruption against a senior minister of his cabinet. These allegations were voluminous, and contained specific instances backed up with specific evidence. There were all set out in a 600-odd page document, and sent directly to Badawi. This was done 10 days ago. Today, Badawi said he is aware of this document but does not know who this senior minister was. Yes, that’s right. He does not know who, among his senior cabinet minister, has been accused of specific and huge acts of corruption. If this was in Australia (or most countries in the western world), the PM would have made a response prior to the release of such a document, possibly even when news got out that this document is being compiled.

We are talking about a senior minister embezzling funds of a listed public company to settle personal debts. The amount stolen was said to be tens of millions of ringgit. Leaving aside issues of how the public company has been reporting these losses, leaving aside no officer (apart from the CEO, who lodged a police report) or director of this company has made any sort of noises about this for so long, how can a PM not even know the identity of this subordinate officer of his? I would have said this is totally ridiculous but that sort of statement no longer has the shock effect it is usually intended to create, especially when used in the context of Malaysia.

Would we rather have a PM who has been accused of being a racist but whose actions suggest this accusation is unlikely to be proven, who has nevertheless brought much progress and prosperity or do we prefer one who repeatedly behaves in a way to suggest he is an imbecile? Take a bow, Mr Howard. Go stand in the corner, Mr Badawi – if you know what a corner is.