langkau fiction

Okay, okay. I wasn’t suppose to write any of those comments earlier. It was supposed to be an introduction to this one that I’m writing now. But I get carried away with all this news talk. In that entry, I wanted to say that I do not want to be known as a news pundit, that is, the knows-everything-by-reading-a-newspaper kind of guy. I don’t. I have an opinion but I’ve always refrained from blurting it out. It’s pointless, as I’ve said earlier.

But anyways, the most common topic in the local newspapers these days revolve around the “race issues”. To the Authoritydom, they deem it to be a “sensitive issue”, so we should not harp on it in order to preserve the existing social and political harmony among multicultural Malaysians. Yes, I can just imagine the angel-like creatures dancing peacefully around us all, happy that we’re not slaughtering each other’s throat or attempt to ethnic-cleanse one another. Yeah…whatever…

But I will not talk about that. Not because it’s “sensitive” but it’s that I just do not give a damn. It’s been happening for many, many years, and amazingly, it is only now they want to raise it. No, what I want to highlight here is the fact that many of our politicians know shit about the situation (real ones, not the rhetos) with stateless communities. By communities, I am referring to the 30,000 people who live in the rural areas that do not possess identity cards. Why don’t they have identity cards? Well, one of the reasons is because – according to department in the Authoritydom – these people live in the rural areas. They did not take their children to the registration department to register their children’s birth. Now, being poor and geographically remote, how do you expect them to go over to the registration office and register their children?

Parents of stateless child: Hi, I’d like to register my son and apply for an identity card.
Registration people: Is that your son? [Parents nod] How old is he? He looks like he’s in his 20s.
Parents of stateless child: Yes, about that.
Registration people: What do you mean “about that”? Where’s his birth certificate??
Parents of stateless child: Well, when he was born in the farm house, we didn’t take him here because it’d take us several days on foot, then by boat, then by the express boat, then by bus, then by taxi, then do the return trip…
Registration people: [angry] Do you realize the trouble you’ve caused me to go through this registration thing? You should have thought about birth certificate and important things like that before you decide to have children?! How do I know you’re not from Indonesia or somewhere, taking advantage of our beautiful and fair registration system?? Don’t waste my time. Go home and find his birth certificate. Where is YOUR birth certificate??
Parents of stateless child: [shocked] Er, sorry. We don’t have any. We didn’t need it then but our children need it now for their education.
Registration people: Go home. It’s beyond my power. I need to eat too. I don’t make decisions here. Just go home and look for your son’s birth certificate. I’m sure you’ve forgotten about it!

Of course, the above may be an exaggeration but it is not impossible that such treatment exist. I have seen it myself. And 30,000 people are in that situation at the moment. In some instances, which I am familiar with, there are also cases where the village chief deliberately prevent his own people from having access to identity cards. Why? Because once someone has an identity card, that person can get access to education and later, find a job outside his village. And since the village chief can’t control them from moving out of the village in search of employment in the urban areas, the chief becomes symbolically powerless. Who’s there to govern and everyone’s going out to improve their life and return to the village as a “knowledgeable person” (used very loosely). Wouldn’t the chief feel threatened?

I can go on and on with such plights of the people, the stateless group that’s been socially and economically marginalized from the bigger picture of being Malaysian. While this is occurring, some of us in the urban areas are obsessed with abstract arguments created by the newspapers, totally oblivious to the “realities” that we so care about.

People who knows me know that I don’t read the papers. At least none of the local ones. Why? Because it’s crap. Everyone knows that. It’s like a propaganda pamphlet of the authorities and powers-that-be, shoving itself into the unsuspecting brains of its readers. In saying that, however, I do buy local newspapers. Not so much because of the news but rather for the comic strips, sports section and occasionally, the world news section. All in that order.

Another main reason why I don’t read the local news in our newspapers is because we – as in the generic “we” – tend to talk about it vigorously in the coffee shops, pubs, social gatherings, workplace, etc. We tend to talk about any issues with passion and subconsciously treat it as our social and political reality. In my opinion, it’s all nothing but a load of stinky pile of shit. I admit that I do get pulled into such talks – conveniently termed as “discussion” or “coffee shop talk” – and it’s only later, after those discussions that I think about it, and tell myself: “What am I talking about? And what am I going to do about it?” Eventually, as the news or the representation of reality slowly fades from the pages of the newspaper, the issue is quickly forgotten. Y’know, something like the haze. Do read about it in the newspaper for the past week? None. Zilch! Why? Because it’s no longer an issue. It’s not “there” anymore.

That is why I don’t like reading newspapers. And there have been many times when I’m sucked into this “coffee shop talk” where people take everything so seriously. It suddenly becomes my opinion versus their opinions based on a falsely constructed reality, whose sole existence is based on nothingness. That’s right, “nothingness”. Whatever the ministers or politicians say, and whether it has any direct connection with the grassroots societies, it becomes huge in the paper. The masses get sucked into it. So, when we talk about it in the coffee shops or bars, we become a diversified representation of them, i.e. the politician’s ideology. Frighteningly, if you come to think of it, you and I become the mouthpiece of those politicians. The mouthpiece of being shit. An epitome of shit. Now, how’s that?

Discussing issues, especially political ones, presented in the local newspapers is akin to being a pundit. Y’know, something like a football pundit or commentators. And not all those pundits really know what they’re talking about but hey, to a certain extent they can influence the betting trend, alter the audience’s perception of the game and even determine what to show or not to show on the news. These are football pundits. The only difference between football pundits and “coffee shop news” pundits is that the latter don’t get paid for their talk. All those teh tarik, ice lemon teas or kopi O kosong, no one’s subsidising it. The “coffee shop news” pundits have to pay for their own expenses.

Sometimes, I watch the football commentaries on TV and there is this guy, Shebby Singh, a famous local football pundit who used to be a good player, that would make comments on the week’s game (especially on the English Premier League teams). If you listen to him closely, I seriously do not think he knows anything about being a football pundit. Hey, I don’t know anything about being a football pundit but I’m not one. He is, and if you go to any coffee shop talking about football, their knowledge of the game and Shebby’s are not that far apart. But who gets paid for it?

The same goes to the newspaper. The news reporters, or “journalists” as they call themselves here, are like those pundits. Some of them write something that makes no sense at all just because the Authoritydom says so, and therefore, it is so. For instance, yesterday the Prime Minister in The Star – the people’s paper (yeah, right…people my ass) said: “It is time to look at laws and start chanign them if they are an obstacle or hindrance”. He wanted to expedite the implementation of the 9th Malaysia plan and argued that some of the laws and regulations had been in place since the British rule. Helloooo? Were we living under the colonial rule mentality all these while? And can Authoritydom just change the laws just because it doesn’t go along with proposed development projects? Therefore, does that mean, for instance, that the Native Customary Rights land of the people can just be extinguished just because it impedes timber and oil palm companies from doing their work? After all, in Sarawak, these are important proponents of development. Now, as for the local journalists, can’t they actually address such issues when they listen to the Authoritydom speak like that? Like I said, a “mouthpiece”.

I’ve been sitting in front of my computer since this morning and I still can’t write. I’m supposed to write something, something that has to do with my work. That kind of work where you receive your wages at the end of each month, just so you can pay the bills and all sorts of debts that become compulsory in constructing this ugly thing we call ‘reality’.

Realitic Person: What? You don’t have a car? How do you come to work??
Unrealistic Me: Er…I can walk? I can also cycle, take a bus or maybe hitch a ride from my colleague. Car-pooling thing, y’know?
Realistic Person: Geesh! You’re so unrealistic and a burden to everyone else! You earn a salary, go get a car!
Unrealistic Me: (thinking) I need to get a car. I need to get a car. I need to be realistic. I need to get a car. I need to get a car.

[Three months later]

Semi-Realistic Me: Hey, I got a car!
Realistic Person: What? That tiny thing you call a car? With your salary, you should get something bigger than that! Geesh! Be realistic, y’know!
Semi-Realistic Me: (thinking) I need to get a bigger car. I need to get a bigger car. I need to be realistic. My salary can afford it. I need to get a bigger car. I need to get a bigger car. I need to get a bigger car.

And so forth, and so forth…the donkey finally drowned in the river.

I’m sure many of us have felt things would have been different if the situation was different between two persons who have met only for a short while. Ok, so this sentence may not make sense to you. Y’see, I met a lovely person a couple of months ago and we got along really well. I thought nothing could happen between us but in her last days here, something did develop. I’ve never thought about it nor did I expect it coming. But our situation just wasn’t right. With me, I’m still scarring from my breakup. Can you imagine that? After five months, I’m still emotionally unstable, which is stupid coz I should get over it now. But I’m not. She, on the other hand, is from another different world than mine. Her heart is still there. Last Friday, she left and I’ll probably never see her again. But I don’t think any of us regretted our brief moment together. For me, it’s been strangely good while she was here.

I got a leave from work on Friday so I can accompany Khoon’s friend, Chisa, from Japan to do kayaking. It turned out to be alright although I was new to the river (or the river was new to me). As a result of taking it for granted, I capsized twice while trying to navigate a hidden rock and a dead log sticking out from underwater. It’s probably not a ‘friendly’ river for beginners. Oh yeah, saw a snake perching on the tree as well! To my untrained eyes, it’s probably a Mangrove snake (Boiga dendrophila). Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to capture it on my camera as the river’s current was a bit haywired (for me, that is).

Probiscus monkey, Bako NP’s (elusive but) famous primate

Then, on Saturday we went to Bako, did the Lintang Trail, Telok Paku and Bukit Tambi viewpoint, which took us a total of about 4 hours. She was quite adapted to her new environment, so I didn’t have to worry much about her. Throughout the whole trip, I came to a conclusion that I’ve never met anyone who’s more appreciative of the nature around them as Chisa did! When I asked her what she thought about the place, she was almost speechless when it came to describing her surroundings. She was even more almost speechless when I told her that we’re going to BBQ a pig head for dinner! ;-)

On Sunday morning, we did our one-and-a-half hour final walk to Telok Pandan Kecil and waited for the boat to take us back to Bako village. At noon, I sent her to the airport as she’s leaving for KL to stay for the night en route to Japan. Overall, it was her lightning tour of Sarawak!

Chisa appreciating the view (while waving off mosquitoes)