langkau fiction

My aunt came from Bintulu with her 10-year old daughter a couple of weeks ago, just to see me in my new house. For some suspicious reason, my relatives and friends are curious to see ‘me in my new house’. My house’s still very much in a mess and I think it’d take me half a year to clear up this mess. There are even some stuffs in the boxes that I have no recollection of ever owning them.

Of all the things in the house my aunt seemed to be more interested in my puppies. My 10-year old cousin liked the puppies so much that she allowed the puppies to lick her face. Even I don’t allow them to do that to me because of the things they lick in the drain. Yes, one of them have this tendency of going to the sink outlet waiting for ‘things’ flowing out of it into the drain. Once all manner of rubbish are excreted from the sink outlet, the pup would go crazy and start slurping in the drain. Strange.

Anyways, when she asked me what their names were, I proudly pointed to her that the bitch is called Kuir Ngil Tudchu and the white-black fat one is called Teluh Ilung Terur. She gave me that quizzical look that seemed to ask “What the hell do those names mean?!” Instead she asked “What kind of name is that?” I smiled and as-a-matter-of-factly replied “I gave my dogs Lun Dayeh names which means Clouded Leopard That Licks Salt and Three Balls.” She was clearly not impressed with those names, and asked me how did I come about with those names? I explained to her how Kuir Ngil Tudchu was fond of licking the sweat off my arms and legs every time I sweat, and that Teluh Ilung Terur was actually a name given by….and before I even could finish my explanation, she told me that’s such a unbelievably ridiculous names to give dogs. I asked why and she didn’t reply. She asked me if I have shorter names for them? I don’t. “You can’t call your dogs with with five syllables in their names, right? Would they understand all of it?”, she put the query back to me. “And Three Balls?!” she asked. “Ok, so what’s your suggestion then?”, I asked her. She smiled and gave my pups two Iban names instead: Kabang, referring to the white-black obese dog and Semiyat to the black one. Both names basically mean ‘buddy’ (masculine and feminine reference) in the Iban language. I know it’s not the correct translation but I forgot what it exactly meant…

Kabang is definitely the most hyperactive — and probably, stupid — of the two pups. It doesn’t understand ‘no’, ‘out’, ’sit’ or even ‘good dog’. It’ll just jump around and over you (if you’re below 3ft tall), trying to lick and bite at anything within its mouth’s range. It barks at anything that move outside the perimeter of the house, which is a good thing. But once that ‘thing’ enters the house, this dog would rigorously shakes its tail in a friendly gesture, which is not a good thing. In Kabang’s worldview, everything is edible including my new plants! And as of today, I’ve got my fourth sandal torn into pieces. Overall, this one is the initiator of anything mischievous.

Semiyat is a very unassuming, passive dog but goes crazy for anything salty. It’s very obedient and whenever I shout at Kabang during meal time — especially when it tries to sneak some food out of Semiyat’s plate — Semiyat slowly retreat as if I was shouting at her. This dog doesn’t go on a barking frenzy like its wacko sibling, and I’ve only heard it barked a couple of times at ‘things’ outside the house. I’m wondering if she knows how to use its vocal chord. If there is any close resemblance to a human character, Semiyat would be considered melancholic. Despite its non-aggressive appearance, Semiyat is the alpha-female of the two and would easily take control over the hyper Kabang in any of their…er…biting, destroying, eating, whining, barking, digging activities.

13-18 April 2008

This phrase seems to be quite popular in Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam in the 90s, and that’s how I’d sum up my short visit to Hanoi a couple of weeks ago. It was great!

One morning at work two months ago, my friend Pang called me to say there’s a cheap AirAsia deal to travel April to Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Bali (ok, so it’s not a country), the Philippines, and Indonesia! I said, that’s cool. He asked me “So, do you want to go?” and when I said yes, he asked me “Which one?” My brain just went numb and so I asked: “Er, I don’t know. Where do you want to go? And who else is going?” He said our good friend Diweng is also coming along. Great!

So, Pang blurted out the list of cities: Bangkok? I said no, since all three of us have been there at different times. Phnom Penh? I said I’ve been there twice. Bali? Well, Pang and Diweng have been there, and I have this assumption that it’s too touristic. The Philippines? Diweng’s been there, Pang’s been there but I said I’ll skip that one for now. Vientiane? But there wasn’t a cheap deal available for that route. And I asked “What about Hanoi?” There was like a five-second silent before he said “Oh, ya…none of us have been there. Ok, so what’s over there?” I said “Well, there’s the famed bia hoi, right? And we can also visit Uncle Ho?” After those two astonishingly brilliant justifications, all signs of hesitation were quickly dispelled and Pang said he’ll make the arrangement immediately.

I’ve always traveled alone and this was the first time the three of us traveled together. I think the same goes to Pang and Diweng. Oh, ya…after hearing our Hanoi plans, a couple — Tuni and Bien — friends of ours decided to jump into our small bandwagon (they were thinking of going shopping and they did!). For me, it was another different experience altogether as I’ve learned during the trip that there are certain things to consider: Where to go, do we go together? What to do, do we do together? How much time we have, do we share the time? All these made me realize that suddenly I’m no longer in charge of my own itinerary. In fact, no one’s in charge of their own itinerary during the trip because everyone had to consider the others. This was not an issue at all but like I said, it was a new experience for me. Considering the needs of your travel mates. But we all shared one thing in common, that is, we didn’t make any specific plans on “what to do, where to go” in Hanoi apart from drinking bia hoi. And of course, we didn’t have any intention to visit the tourist habitats. The experience of loud and seemingly chaotic Hanoi was already a great attraction in itself. I’ll leave that for later.

Within one hour after our five-minute phone conversation, our flight to Hanoi was arranged. Very nice.

Some people like to use words that they don’t really understand. They use those words because it’s contemporary and no one wants to be left behind; or it sounds complex thus an indicator of high intellectual capacity; or there’s a feeling of superiority once that word is uttered and people become amazed with the power of your vocabulary; or it sounds politically poetically correct; and so forth. Words such as ‘modernity’, ‘development’, ‘conservation’, ’sustainability’ and even ‘fuck off’ are often miused terms, and yet, people utter them casually without knowing what they really mean (Ok, even the word ‘people’ can be problematic). Don’t get me started on the much difficult words that people don’t use everyday (but wished they could) such as hemophodiatyic, hompophyisckco and hetrophoxiastic. And those are only words starting with the letter “H”. Anyways, I don’t intend to school you on this.

Today, I want to write about the public exhibition of kooneykiang, in normal english it means imbecility. Yes, whenever imbecility comes into the picture it can only mean…let me hear you say it…yes, politicians. I know, I know, you’re probably wondering why I’m so mean to these political specimens? It’s not that I have this inborn inclination to spear-tongue them but they tend behave idiotically without realizing it especially when it comes to flaunting their kooneykiang behavior in the newspaper. What is more interesting is that this abnormal behavior can only come from those high up in the Authoritydom. In this case, it concerns our country’s sleeping beauty Pak Lah.

Almost a week ago, our most honorable Prime Sleeper Minister used the word *hysterical drumroll* “grassroots” in his speech. There’s nothing wrong with that word and there’s definitely nothing wrong with him using the word. But there’s something wrong when he used that same word to mean something opposite. Well, at least, opposite from what I was taught lah. An article in the local propaganda pamphlets newspaper reported that the PM was concerned with the ugly results that his party, amno, obtained in the recent parliamentary election. Due to this concern, he called for a meeting with 1,000 grassroots leaders to discuss the party’s fucked up performances the election.

Now, what do you understand by grassroots? Who is a grassroots? As I understand it, grassroots is a concept referring to a group of individuals who share a common concern on certain issues that are adversely affecting them. Okay, so that’s quite a broad description. Let me make it simpler: grassroots comprises of people who are deprived of economic and political control over their own — material, natural, ideological — resources, and they’re very often handcuffed to this gruesome reality, a reality construed by the Authoritydom (and its kuncu-kuncu). In the pyramid of power structure, they’re anchored at the bottom without a lifeline. In some societies, grassroots that have been marginalized for so long would retaliate against the Authoritydom. Here, I am not talking about this or that political parties going against the this and that Establishment (although some grassroots evolve into that slimy arena). Grassroots usually work outside the Authority-defined political structure, demonstrating their principles and beliefs that at least represent ‘their community’. Usually, they do not even have one particular leader akin the notion of ‘leadership’ in the traditional political structure.

So, in that article, the sleeping minister of Bolehland decided to use the word “grassroots” in his and his party’s attempt to get to the bottom of the problem during the just-concluded erection election. In his english dictionary, ‘grassroots’ refers to “state liaison chairman, division information bureau chiefs and their [amno] counterparts from the Wanita, Youth and Puteri wings.” He will meet and hold dialogues with these grassroots leaders, who are apparently not as politically or economically deprived as the description I noted earlier. How is it possible to be marginalized when you’re a state liaison chairman, for instance? Sudah kalah baru mau dengar pendapat rakyat ka?…*ptui* These are people who konon lah listen to the needs of the grassroots, in effect making themselves part of grassroots. But these are not grassroots, they’re known as astroturfers who pretends to be grassroots and claims to fight the grassroots cause.

Below, I’ve drawn an illustration of this situation in the image of a tree (because it literally relates to grass and roots bah…)

This is a tree. The tree looks healthy. Fuck, it’s a bloody healthy tree with a big trunk and fresh green leaves at the top.

This is also a tree but instead of focusing at the top part of it, we need to know what sustains the life of the big trunk and healthy-looking green leaves. Yes, the roots and…er…there are also grasses at the top. In the context of a beautiful healthy tree, no one really bothers looking at the roots that determine what’s on top.

And lastly, you can see the tree from this angle where the roots are no longer important. The important thing is to keep healthy, maintain control over those roots below there, don’t let the grass grow higher than the tree, and of course, stay on top at the expense of those below.

Instead of going to the ground, constantly engaging with the grassroots (they do it 2-3 times per year *clap, clap, clap*), those in Authoritydom prefer to talk cock at the top, thus having that flawed sense of security. In this article, the amno is more comfortable in attributing their poor performance to the ex-PM’s attack on the national coalition prior to the election. Also, the amno information chief said that it is important that the grassroots listen to what our sleeping minister has to say about the defeat and explain the ‘real situation’ because apparently, the grassroots may have been confused during the election. Ooooh, so now the grassroots can’t think for themselves, eh? How convenient. Instead of saying that the grassroots have been confused or their political rivals resorted to various means against Bee Ann, why can’t they see what they’ve done wrong all this while?

Screw me for writing long-winded nonsense.

When I post this kind of entry it basically means that my day at work is murderously dull. Again, demotivation is the key word. Then again, what do you care?

This morning as I entered my office at 7.23am and on an empty stomach, I pushed myself to work against my natural will. I wrote and wrote and wrote my assigned task till I was drained out by…er…7.36am. That was as much my brain could handle in that long duration of time. I went out of my office, observed my surroundings on a nice sunny morning and wondered how the birds don’t get electrocuted perching on the live power lines. Must be their skin, I thought. There and then I wanted to be a bird.

By 8.03am, I went back into my office and started where I left off. I wrote rubbish sentences that don’t make much sense for one hour without stop, carefully read it and then thought “Fuck it”. Then, I repeated this seemingly idiotic sequence until 10.30am when my trusted demented friend Tiung pinged me on the Yahoo chat column. And when he initiates a conversation on the chat thingy, it’s bound to be surreal. One would just have to adapt with his insanity.

See those words “hemophodiactyic” and “hompophyisckco”? Now, how in this world of hippopotamus would anyone know those terms? This is my friend and I thought I was the one who’s going insane in this world of work. Ok, another one:

Of course, there’s no agenda of conversation while one chats on this Yahoo thing…well, at least not for me or my demented friend. He just starts off a conversation out of blue and this morning, it had to be about comps. er…I mean, computer. Apparently, his computer has been transformed into the “hetrophoxiastic” kind. I mean what the poo, right?

With all those new bombastic words that clogged my sense of rationality within our 15-minute conversation this morning, I think aspiring linguists should seriously consider studying my friend’s new tongue. It’s worth it, especially when you’re running out of ideas for a PhD topic. And while you’re at it bring along a psychiatrist. You’ll need it.

A couple of days ago, I went to see my boss who has this habit of planting his ass on his comfortable throne all day and has this devious smirk on his face while staring at the computer. Don’t ask me why he does that. As I entered his office he looked up at me, his The Joker-like grin immediately vanished, and asked “Yes? What is it do you want to ask me?” I pulled a chair to sit without his permission and asked him “I was wondering if I could be lazy this year, y’know, not to do work that I’ve always been doing?” He had the audacity to look surprised when I asked him that question, and in turn he queried “Didn’t you ask for my permission to be lazy last year as well?” I thought hard about that question and slowly, his question started to dig out some of the useless memory cells that lay dormant in my tiny brain. When the answer, which was ‘Yes, I did’, popped up in my mind, I responded “Er…no, not that I can remember. Are you sure you…” He interrupted and reminded me “You’re the only one who’s ever asked me that sort of question so I’m sure you asked for the same permission last year.” I quickly put on that puzzled expression on my face and casually told him “I did? hhm…I must have been delirious from having too much fun to remember it…” Oh well, since he didn’t look that enthusiastic in granting me my much-needed rest from work, I stood up and said “Oh well, I didn’t remember that. But since I…er…what if I did work beyond my mental and intellectual capacity last year instead of achieving my intention of being lazy, am I entitled for the permission of not doing any work this year?” He resumed his focus on his computer screen and after 10 seconds of silence, I said “Oh, ok then boss” and I left his office. Success! (er..huh?)

I’ve been so busy that I do not know where to start. Most of my work this year will involve a kind of work beyond what is required of me in my conventional work i.e. paid salary, day job, employment, profession or whatever you want to call this pretentious daily activity of ours. I’m drained out, I’ve not done much exercise lately and for goodness sake, even my visits to the pub have been severely minimized! The Deity Of All Alcoholic Beverages must be very disappointed with my performance, for being lukewarm in my spiritual (of the alcohol kind) development.

It’s Friday evening, I need a beer. But I’m living on the other side of town, making it such a drag to drive all the way to town for beers…tiu!