Sometimes There Are Knots...

I've been very bad with keeping my blog up-to-date. Everyday, I have new things I wish to put in my blog. And then a lot of things get in my way. The 'things' getting in my way may seem to be excuses, but when I write, I prefer to be in the right frame of mind (unless I am writing in anger - then I don't give a shit).

It's been a long week and it's not exactly over. I just thought I'd take my mind elsewhere and I came to my friend's Kris' blog. Sometimes, it is so easy to be inspired. And without disappointing, a few of his posts did snap me out of it (at least for now, for me to write on my blog).

Kris wrote about the choice of getting rid of individuals who are "negative" for oneself. Sometimes, I get really tired - not from working on the real work, but from dealing with people. It can be really tiring - when you have to smoothen the edges of ruffled feathers, or having to dance on egg shells around someone, or if you're trying to convince a recalcitrant client who insists that you're supposed to fork out your own per diems,.... or simply, your own staff or even a stranger at the pool.

I really enjoy my non-team sports training. Swimming, Cycling and Running - all of which... are individual sports. Especially in the pool - when you're away from everything and you're just counting laps and pushing for a personal best time. My time in the pool and the gym are almost like my sanctuary. Until this little drama that occured a few days ago.

After living in Cambodia for close to 2 years now, I am getting more and more disgusted with the people here - and this is a whole new story for another day. One of the thing about them (and I know I am generalizing) is their seemingly non-existent basic hygiene knowledge. They throw rubbish everywhere, even right in front of their own homes, they spit everywhere, they pee everywhere and they blow their noses into the pool.

It greatly annoys me and disgusts me. Now, a few days ago - I was beginning my swim - and I was a little late - I usually swim at 4.30am - an hour where I have no need to share the pool with anyone. But on that particular day, I was there at 6am and so were a few other locals. One middle-aged man was happily blowing is nose and clearing his throat and spitting it all out at the edge of the pool. Annoyed, I told him "Please don't do that. It is dirty." I didn't shout, I didn't raise my voice, I told him politely, albeit firmly. Then I went on my swim.

When I got out of the pool, this idiot came back and started shouting at me. "Do you know who I am?!!! Do you know who I am???!!! You have no right to tell me not to do anything!!" Not wishing to cause a scene, I quickly got dressed while he continued his verbal diarrhoe. Irritated, I told him "No, I really have no idea who you are. I'm sorry." And then menacingly, he threatened me! "You better be careful. You better watch out."

I can't believe the nerve of him. But then again, this is one of those "Welcome to Cambodia" factors - which is really getting under my skin. Even a miserable lowly minister in the government can get away with murder. And I have no clue who this guy was!! As I hate having to watch my back everywhere I go, I made a distress call to a friend. At least, I'm slightly comforted by the fact that I am just a phone call away from mobilizing the PMU (Prime Minister's Unit) guards. I wonder how near they are should I really be sprayed with... say acid?? Hmmm... (But if anything does happen to me - remember - it can only be this guy from the Himawari gym!!!)

As it turned out, I'm still here, writing my blog. As Kris would say - that was a probably a "close shave". And maybe I should "live life to the fullest everyday". And maybe I should equip myself with more positive thoughts. And maybe I should "pursue my aspirations now rather than later." Try. Try. Try.

Like Kris, I am also, still.. a work-in-progress.

My Family

(a working draft of my novel : "Growing Up A Chinese Daughter")

It's the time of the year to celebrate Cheng Beng Festival and since my Grandpa's passing, I had not missed a single Cheng Beng. This year, however, I reflected and realized all the more - how important my family is to me.

I was actually feeling rather down in the dumps (apparently, I can blame it on PMS :P) and reaching the point of burning out with the stress and of course, not to mention - the upsetting fiasco with Mr. Deep Throat.

Whatever negative feelings I was carrying with me for the past few weeks just as soon, disappeared the moment I was back with my entire family in the kampung. The mixture of my beloved kampung and the natural closeness and comfort between me and my family just made me feel really comforted. Of course, top that off with the delicious food in Tanjung Tualang or the simple home-cooked meals... I feel..... I'm home.

My family - is not without their individual dramas. You know how it is, this person doesn't get along with that person, etc, etc. However, every year, all the differences are set aside to celebrate Chinese New Year and Cheng Beng together. And there's one thing I know and learnt from them - is that when one person is in trouble, the whole family will be concerned. Just like the year (in my teenage rebellion), I ran away from home, the whole family was ... you know, worried and concerned for me. Or when my Ah Sum and Suk Suk nearly got a divorce....... the one person which surprises me the most is always my Yee Suk. He seems the most anti-social and does not talk nor mix with the family - however, miraculously, he seems to know what is going on. Of course, I do feed him with information whenever I see him :) I am good like that - I am close to all of them. In any case - it comforts me to know, I have solid support from my family. (And I know if MOH ever bullies me - my Yee Suk will skin him alive!!)

Anyone who have had the chance to get to know my crazy family will know - we are indeed a crazy bunch. We annoy each other, we poke fun at each other and there is a lot of laughter in the house. It is like my source of entertainment. That is why, every year, I look forward to Chinese New Year. It is the time to really unwind with the family after a year of hard work. It works the same during Cheng Beng. And last weekend, during our family's 5th Cheng Beng, I realized that I really, really, really miss this while I am working overseas.

My family is not rich. In fact - the most educated would be my Dad - who is a retired headmaster. The rest of his siblings are either mechanics, electricians, tailors or cooks. They can barely read English and hardly finished their primary education. But they do have a lot of wisdom to impart.

I have learnt, through my family - to earn an honest living. There is no reason to cheat and of course, it goes without saying that if you're lazy - you get nothing.

I have learnt, through my family - to be happy. Happy with life. Of course, it doesn't mean to be complacent. There's a Chinese saying that goes like this : "If you don't have such a big head, don't wear such a big cap."

I have learnt, through my family - to live within my means. There are days when we have to eat plain porridge for our meals and there are days when we get to eat succulent prawns.

I have learnt, through my family - to be independent - yet, to maintain a close bond with the family because this is where your root lies. I would elaborate on this - all the years, growing up, I had rebelled - because the more they preached family bonds and closeness, the more I felt they had a control over me. I could not understand this point until the year I was in Australia and I missed Chinese New Year for the first time. Let me tell you this - I was utterly miserable. Not just because I missed my family - I also realized that without my family - I have no idea what or who I am. The customs and traditions practised by my family has moulded me and given me an identity. Now that I am all grown-up - I understand this simple concept so clearly.

I have learnt, through my family - not to be a coward. Stand up for myself and don't take crap sitting down. (which I took a little too literally and much to their chagrin - I'm such a firecracker!!). My entire family votes for the Opposition :)

I had a long chat with my Grandma over the weekend when I was back. I told her how frustrated and upset I was with the whole Mr Deep Throat fiasco and how I ended up on the losing end at the end of the day. She had this to say to me : "You were never raised to be a coward. You were raised to know what is right and what is wrong and when you deserve something and when you don't. Be proud that you stood up for what you know is right. Even if you get the job, you make all the money, if you're not happy doing it, it amounts to nothing."  

Grandma summed it all up.

I guess in my own ways, I have learnt (and is still learning) a lot of things from this family. But I guess, we shall save those for another day of writing.

Exploitation At Its Finest

I haven't written in my blog for a while now. Not because I have nothing to write about. But there's been a lot of things happening on both the work front - busy, busy, busy as always and taking on more than I can chew - my partner-in-crime Leticia Hsu will agree cos her plate is over-the-top too! - As well as on the personal front - caring for a Hep A patient (MOH), homesick after CNY, trying to keep myself motivated to train for the Ironman (at this point, it is a big joke), etc. Suddenly, in a flash of a flash, it's 1st quarter of the year, GONE.

But today, right now, there is so much anger and frustration in me that I need to channel this somewhere immediately or else, there might be hell to pay! (And I certainly can't go and swim another 100 laps or so since I just did that over lunch hour!).

After months of going back and forth on the Red C budgets for the brand activation work - and I am seriously talking heart-breaking 16 revisions on the costings over a period of 4 months, the client finally piled on the straw that broke the camel's back. For the sake of letting me relief my anger - let's just call him Mr. Deep Throat (part of his name does have this phrase). Now, Mr. Deep Throat is new in Cambodia and is sitting on the almighty throne here thinking he knows best. Ok, he's the client, it's his brand, it's his product. Good.

First round, he came up with all these funny "ratios" on how the budgets and sampling targets work. Funnily - which nobody could comprehend. USD4,500 project budget, to sample a target of 72,000 bottles in 6 provinces. Mind you - Red C themselves had found out that the license fee per province is USD300. You do the math. It leaves us with an unrealistic budget to sample 72,000 freaking bottles. Does Mr. Deep Throat buy that? Of course not! "I've done it before!" he says. Where? In India? But this is Cambodia, my friend!

For those who have done sampling activities for beverages, you will know the process is a tedious one. Chilling, sampling, collection of empty bottles (and believe it or not, Red C only allows a 3% breakage & loss and anything above that, we get charged USD0.50 per bottle unaccounted for), hours in the hot sun, rain, whatever. So we counter-proposed. We keep to the budget, but we sample less bottles. We still want to try to maintain the overall brand image - I mean, after all, it IS Red C. You don't want to look shabby or cheapskate, do you? But Mr. Deep Throat's answer was "I don't care about all that. My sole objective is to touch bottles to lips." Errr...... if so, with all due respect, Sir - why does Red C as a company, spend so much money on branding internationally? Why hire brand managers? (By the way - Mr. Deep Throat is not a brand manager. I do not know his position.)

Nevermind that - I also explained to Mr Deep Throat that has he ever tried to bottoms-up a full bottle of Red C? Since we need to collect bottles and I am short of manpower due to the peanut budget, I need to force consumers to down the bottle of Red C as fast as possible. My team (bless them for soldiering on) did an experiment previously when we sampled another brand - and to down a bottle of carbonated drink takes 2 minutes. They were burping and generally feeling quite ill after the 3rd bottle. Once again - do the math - 2 minutes per bottle for a bottoms-up "brand experience" for the consumers. I don't need to tell you the outcome for your product and the fact that once again - the figures are UNREALISTIC. (At this point, it seems to me, Mr Deep Throat is really pulling numbers out of his freaking ass).

Whatever it may be, we worked on it and worked on it, and worked some more. Finally coming to a reasonably agreeable budget. But was that enough for Mr Deep Throat? No. Today, he said our agency fee should be cut down to a miserable 7% of the total sampling cost. 7%????? This was what angered me so much. Who is this MORON to tell me what my agency deserves to earn? And of course, WHERE THE FUCK is he getting his 7% figure from??? I am so pissed mad. Just because this is Cambodia, you think labour cost is cheap??? Where does he get off?? I ask ANY OF YOU out there - will you consider paying ANYONE USD1.50 to work 8 hours a day - outdoors, rain, shine or snow??? So, yea, where does he get off???

I am waiting for them to send me a black & white confirmation that it is indeed 7% and I will respond with a "No, Thank You Very Much" email of my own. There comes a point where enough is enough, I guess. Whatever your brand may be. So what if it is Red C? You can be fucking Nike for all I care, but when you start exploiting people - it is plain WRONG. Especially more so if you are a global brand. I know it is the economically bad times, but do not use that as an excuse to exploit the people of a third-world country!
I've written about this previously and you can read it again here. Everybody has a budget. Be sensible, SENSITIVE and reasonable.

Some might say this is work. Don't take it personally. Of course I take it personally! This is my work, this is my baby, for crying out loud! I built this company with passion and I train my team to take pride in their work. But if their pride costs a miserable amount of USD0.70 per day (working out to be our current "agency fee" after the 7%  fiasco) - what freaking pride is that? I know they are Cambodians, but it does not make them any lesser of a human beings than anyone of us out there!! So, yes, I am freaking pissed off, hopping mad!

At the moment, I am feeling extreme hatred for Mr Deep Throat and the brand that he represents right now. For those who know me, would know that I hate injustice. Exploitation is injustice. Ok, to rationalize it, Mr Deep Throat is probably not out to get me. He's probably just "doing his job". But that's the difference between him and me - I am a businesswoman. He's NOT.

For my friends reading this article - if you are a Red C drinker - support me by boycotting Red C products for just one day. Take your whiskey on-the-rocks. Drink Blue Pill. Whatever it may be. I thank you in advance for indulging me in my rash display of anger.

My New Year's Day Punishment

1st January 2010. The first day of a new decade. My brains whir into life. I open my eyes, smiling. Then, the pounding in the head began it's torture (which, unfortunately for me, was to last for a long, long time). Suddenly, the memories of the new year's eve celebration the night before came zooming through. And horrifyingly, there's an entire chunk which I could not, for the life of me recall. How the hell did I end up back in bed, naked? In a panicked state, I shook MOH who was snoring next to me. A mumble.
"What happened last night?" I asked, as the throbbing pain in the head continued.
"I'll tell you later." More snoring.

I closed my eyes and tried my hardest to recall.
The evening's celebration started off rather lamely. We had a home-cooked meal of chicken & pumpkin porridge. It sounds like a poor man's meal, sure. But it was so yummy and tasty, MOH and I had a great time eating dinner at home. I think it was generally a happy meal because we both could enjoy such a simple dinner in each other's company. Then, we stayed in watching chinese drama series, passing time till it was time to walk over to the FCC for the countdown.

Over at the FCC, DJ Illest was spinning - always a good thing. It was of course packed with revellers shaking their booties and throwing back shots after shots. We both hung around near the bar with our drinks and started people watching. In general, it was fun and in my mind, I thought we'd stay till countdown, watch some fireworks and then walk back home and crawl into bed. The mood was generally quite good. For me, the year ended on a really good note despite some last minute scares during the week. And I was looking forward to the brand new year ahead. So many things to do and a world to conquer!

And then my local partner and best friend, Ashley showed up with some friends and one of our clients cum my newfound friend from Orange County - Sean. This was when the plan for "go-back-right-after-countdown" went out the window. We had the countdown right at midnight and stayed on for a few more drinks. And then, we hopped over to the Riverhouse lounge - for more "partying". It was too noisy and crowded so we went downstairs instead and sat down like old folks with a couple of bottles of wine. One would've thought that picture quite tame. Except - I had no idea what compelled me to stop counting my drinks (Of course, now that I am sober enough to write this, I am going to blame it all on Sean). The last thing I remembered was watching the swimming leg of the triathlon on ESPN at the Riverhouse. And then, what else followed after that was a COMPLETE blank. Oh My God.

I rolled myself out of bed, forcing myself to get up. Perhaps a shower would do me some good. I jumped into the shower, head pounding and my whole body felt like I had just been through a train wreck and came back out alive. Every muscle was shaking, head pounding. I groaned. This was not how I imagined spending my first day of the year. The time - a little after 12noon. Crap. We missed New Year's brunch at Hagar's too. But I didn't feel like I could eat anything. Aaargh. I swear, I can't remember the last time I got this drunk - voluntarily. These were stuff juvenile delinquents did. Not an adult woman. Aargh. Aargh. Aargh.

MOH woke up and I pressed him for last night's details. Apparently, we even went for Midnight Porridge - which nobody finished the meal since that was when I was asking to go home. And apparently, I could not even stand up by myself nor walk up the stairs to my apartment. And starkingly horrible - in between laughs, MOH told me I was sleeping on the toilet floor while he tried to shower me and I was throwing up - you know, all the usual stuff a drunkard did. Aargh! Juvenile. Juvenile. Juvenile.

I threw up one more time after I showered in the morning. I could still taste the sickening alcohol in my mouth, my breath. I had to sit down with my hand propping my head up and I was still feeling rather drunk. Not just hungover - but drunk!

MOH, ..... I think what I really want to remember of New Year's Day - 2010 - the first new year's we celebrate as husband & wife is how MOH had relentlessly, patiently, taken care of me the entire night and the whole of New Year's Day while I recuperated. He got me a range of beverages to fight nausea and dehydration. He stroked my hair, he kissed me, he laughed at me. And all I could think of was imagining the sight of me lying on the toilet floor. That would've been grounds for divorce if ever there should be one! But not only did he not scold me nor lecture me, neither did he say anything mean to me. He made some lunch for me at home (I'm sorry we missed New Year's brunch! I really am!) and after lunch, I went back to sleep.

I woke up close to 5pm still not feeling much better. In fact, I felt rather sorry for the state I was in and of course, ruining the day for MOH too. But MOH - ensuring he kept to his wedding vows, just loved me, come what may. He said we should both get out for some air and he said we should go for a nice dinner as it was after all, New Year's Day. I relented - since it was because of me, we missed New Year's brunch. I changed in pain, my entire body seemed detached from my brains.

But we did get to La Volpaia for a nice Italian meal with Insalata Caprese and I had the Squid Ink Pasta - which was really tasty. MOH even had the cheek to asked me if I wanted a glass of wine. If my head wasn't pounding too much, I would've smacked him one. But all I could do was stick my tongue out at him. After dinner, we even went to Bayon Supermarket's grand opening and did some groceries - it being grand opening, we got a 10% discount off our total bill and a free large tin of chocolate wafers. So, considering all that, not a bad first day of the year. If only my head would stop pounding.

It had taken me two and a half days to recover - and I still feel a little lethargic. Seriously - gone through war and back. I've even got cuts on my arms which were unaccounted for! God knows what really happened! I guess, the body is no longer as young as I thought it was. I remembered a time where I could entertain any clients, mix my drinks and drink anyone under the table - yet, get to work bright and early. Ahhh, to be young again. But I stopped drinking when I started getting serious with my athletic performance. The alcohol slows everything down. I can certainly vouch for that - I was this close to getting alcohol poisoning 2 days ago :P The body is in such shock. I bet my liver is still upset with me. I can hear it bitching about me.

But you know how they say - there's a good thing that comes out of a bad thing. Just watching how MOH had patiently taken care of me and loving me through my drunken stupor had made me feel really lucky. Yes, thank God he was there and IS there for me. Otherwise, God only knows who would I be waking up next to - naked. *Gasp!*

Moral of the story : Don't ever binge-drink again. I don't know how some people do it weekends after weekends. But frankly - I think it is a very good thing I am now repulsed by the sight and smell of alcohol. It is now time to start my training again. Once again - a Happy New Year to all!

Reflections

Taking an inspiration from my partner-in-crime Kris' blog, I'm taking some time to piece together a whole lot of thoughts going on up there in my grey matters.

I reflect every week - on the week that was... maybe that's why I hadn't been able to see a clearer, bigger picture ahead. But for the past 4 months or so, I had a very clear picture that keeps coming back to haunt me. It is telling me to stop procastinating and do what I had always wanted to do in life - save the world.

Since I was a child, I've always had compassion for the people who are less fortunate than I. Perhaps, it was my upbringing, I'm not sure. Even as a child, when I visited the old folk's homes or orphanages with my parents, I would cry just to see the pitiful state they lived in.

From then on, I had this dream - I want to open a centre, I want to rescue as many unfortunate people as I possibly can. And I always thought - to do that, I need money. Lots of it. So therefore, I worked hard. I worked hard and subsequently, I started my own business. Suddenly, this dream took a backseat. For you see, in life, as we grow, we realise we need money for a lot of things - sometimes, just to survive, sometimes to splurge on ourselves (for me, my sin is books, books, books), sometimes, to splurge on the people we love because they so deserve it, the list goes on.

I admit, whilst over the years, I had always had the same thought (saving the world!!) torment me over and over again, I had always managed to convince myself that the world is too big for me to save. I am a tiny, mediocre woman, who can't do anything to end world poverty. Nor can I do anything to stop the unnecessary wars that are happening everywhere around the world. As such, I lived my life... believing I am convinced.

The thought of doing humanitarian work really does come back out to the foreground a lot. But always pushed back - there is always something more important to do - I have a business to run, I have got deadlines to meet, I have got partners and shareholders I am accountable for, I have a family to take care of (by that, I mean my parents, grandma and whoever else in the family who might need my help) again, the list goes on.

Of course, in between that, I tried to do my bit for charity. When I was a Ranger in school - I remembered being part of the stand-by team for the Highland Towers emergency, I remembered donating my entire month's salary to the North Korean famine, I am a volunteer with Mercy Malaysia, I published a whole set of poems and sold them to raise funds for Mercy once (and never thought to at least save one set for my own collection!!), when the 2004 tsunami happened, I volunteered to go to the disaster areas with Mercy only to be rejected because I would be more of a cry-baby burden than I would be of help when faced with the disaster simply because I wasn't trained to face them..... I try to feed homeless people on the street (of course, living in Cambodia, I lost a lot of compassion for the people on the street - but this is another story!), I volunteer my time at an orphanage for children with HIV and surprised myself with the way I deal with them and see them, I train some of the less fortunate youth in Cambodia to empower them to do something better with their lives and I create job opportunities for them..... this list goes on too.

When the legendary King of Pop passed on, I was re-inspired to follow in his footsteps. I took one tiny step forward and was once again, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the unfamiliarity and shamefully - loss of income, I took ten steps back. I argued with myself (you know, the devil and angel in your head arguments)... that the King of Pop was a millionaire. The King of Pop had a legion of fans who would heed his words. I was.... nothing. I told myself, I couldn't do it.

And so, I went back to the mundane life of chasing after clients, who by the minute of every f***ing day, was frustrating me with their neanderthal attributes. Chasing after clients who were only concerned on making sales with an extremely shrunken budget. Don't get me wrong. I still do love my job and I enjoy the challenges it poses. Except that, lately, I feel less than a "nothing" doing it. I feel like a big loser. Why?

I reflected and realized that I had chickened-out facing bigger issues and taking on something unfamiliar. No wonder I felt like a "nothing". A small one at that!!

Then, I started on The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. I had bought the book a year ago, but only got around to reading it last month. To those familiar with the book - imagine my excitement! I had been one of those people who kept ignoring the "omens" and thus, led a mundane life of doing something (the only thing I thought) that I can do, that I can say I at least enjoy doing... but it gave me no greater pleasure than that. All of a sudden, everything began to make sense. The author had said we should heed the omens and search for our destiny. I realised I had ignored my omens for far too long.

And then, the author said when one decides to seek for his or her destiny, everything in the universe will conspire to help you find it. I reflected back at all the omens, right up to the current one - of stumbling upon Slumlight, and using my business platform to help them, of meeting the lady behind Slumlight and being inspired by her story (though, she reminds me rather uncannily of the character Phoebe from "Friends"), and not to mention, being re-acquainted with Relief Web after a long, long hiatus. Thinking that dreams do come true, I even submitted my "under-qualified" CV to a reputable NGO in hope that I would be hired for a position they have vacant. My fingers and toes are crossed. But we'll cross the bridge when we get there.

I believe, 2009, whilst it had been a rather tough year, career-wise, my many reflections had helped me see me for who I am and where I want to be. I am of course thankful for the powers up there (I am sorry for all the "Why Me?!" complains) for letting me lead such a colourful life thus far. And of course - my parents, my friends, and my partners-in-crime (partners - you know who you are - you guys have been a steady block for me and it gave me the strength to continue battling it out everyday), who had been nothing but supportive throughout. Most of all, to MOH - who had relentlessly encouraged me and gave me the wings to fly (if I gave up everything - he had promised to continue feeding me, sheltering me and buying me my books)

I am re-inspired once again. But this time, I intend to keep walking and trudging ahead with my tiny steps, no matter how far this journey will be. I now welcome 2010 with great pleasure. Happy New Year to all :)

Rwanda and Malaysia - In response to Asrul Hadi's Article

I watched Hotel Rwanda for the second time last weekend and for some reason, am more greatly disturbed this time around than I was when I watched it the first time. Before you continue reading my humble post, I’d like to state clearly that I am not an avid follower of politics nor do I spend hours on end analyzing politics and politicians with their theories and concepts. I am just another normal (if my other eccentricities can be considered normal!) human being who, I’m sure like half of the people populating this earth, feels strongly regarding injustices that happen everywhere.

Watching Hotel Rwanda – and subsequently, reading up on the history of that genocide (*The USA had actually banned its officials from using the term. Finally, Secretary of State Warren Christopher grumpily conceded “If there's any particular magic in calling it genocide, I've no hesitancy in saying that.”) I found two things rather disturbing :

One – how the powers of the West have often toyed around with the “lesser civilization” and used it as their playground as according to their whims and fancy. Oh, I stand corrected – not according to their whims and fancy. Only according to the benefits they stand to gain from exploiting these so-called “lesser nations”. In Rwanda, there are the majority tribe who are known as the Hutus and then there are the minority tribe known as the Tutsis. IN A NUTSHELL (I say this because there are more to it then what I have summed up here), when Belgium colonized the country, they put the Tutsis in power – for their better looks and “aristocratic appearance”. Some Tutsis took this role to the extremes and of course, left the Hutus feeling like they were merely poor peasants squatting on Tutsi land (*It was the practice of colonial administrators to select a group to be privileged and educated 'intermediaries' between governor and governed - does this sound familiar to the British's strategy of divide and conquer in Malaysia?). Of course, when the Belgians left, they returned power to the Hutus. They must’ve been patting themselves on the backs for such a smart move! Ostracized for years, the Hutus now finally get their revenge, being back in power. What happened next, following a spate of events, was a systematically violent “ethnic cleansing” exercise. In a short span of time, 800,000 Tutsis were massacred in Rwanda, 1994.

The second thing that disturbed me terribly was how was it that people can be so “moved” to disregard life? So idiotically brainwashed to the point that they actually believed they were doing a good deed by getting rid of another race or religion? I just plain do not understand nor do I comprehend this. The thinking and behaviour that follows just does not seem human. We argue, at this point that, the genocides or “ethnic cleansing” or “tribal violence” (as some of the Western powers who shamefully did nothing to intervene calls it – merely "tribal violence") happen because there are a large population who are poor and uneducated.

Poor and uneducated? This brings me to the main point of my blogpost – a sort of response to Asrul Hadi Abdullah Sani’s article in the Malaysian Insider, entitled ‘BTN taught me the Chinese are the Jews of Asia’. I read the article, and if it were true, every word that was said in that article, I am deeply appalled. Not just appalled, I am shocked and horrified.

Imagine the timing of reading this article – just after I am recovering from my Rwandan tales.... I find it really .... unacceptable. What is it about human nature that drives us to act as such? What is it about certain quarters of people who like to spew the words “ketuanan” and use it to instil a sense of false pride / patriotism?

When I read the article, I couldn’t help feeling that it was almost like what the Hutu extremist were doing – instilling hate, telling themselves they must “fight for what belongs to them”... or it would forever perish into the hands of the “enemies”. Of course, Rwanda is only but an example. We have the Holocaust, the Bosnia ethnic cleansing, the Year Zero in Cambodia and the list goes on – all, seemingly for one reason and only one reason that I can see – greed. Correct me if I am wrong, of course.

While I am writing this, I hope that the people who had to attend such a “camp” from the BTN would be educated enough and humane enough to know that it is rubbish they speak of. Intelligent enough to hear greed spewing out of every orifice of their bodies when they give their “ketuanan” lecture.

You know, at the very least, even if we were an uneducated bunch of peasants – we expect our leaders to lead properly, correctly and most importantly, humanely. We do not expect our leaders to instil in us, hate or feelings of hatreds, disrespect and disregard for that of another person, race or religion. That is just outright WRONG. Do you not agree?

I am just about sick to my eyeballs, reading about all these hatred, war, insecurity, false sense of pride (what pride do you have when you’re bloody pissing in public and sleeping on the streets?) or so-called patriotism, of people accusing the other race or religion of trying to take over, or "snatch our wealth" or "trample all over our pride, culture and  tradition", of all the injustices or simply, the drama of some politicians kissing a traditional weapon – NOT just in the country where I was born, but all around the world.

Whilst there is almost nothing in my power that I can do right now for the other countries in a state of war, poverty and government impunity, however, there must be perhaps something that I can do about this shameless country of mine? Correction – the country isn’t shameless. Its leaders are.

I don’t care whether you are the incumbent or the opposition, I suggest you clean up your act and get it together. As a famous sentence from another fellow blogger comes to mind – otherwise, it is Dulu, Kini dan Sampai Sini Sahaja.

*Source : Peace Pledge Union Information

My Wedding Ring

Since the day MOH and I exchanged wedding rings till now, I’ve had a fair few people asking to see the ring, and getting all excited and making statements like “Oooh... you got a platinum ring!” or “Oh, is it white gold? It’s nice. So simple!” .... I do not know why the first thought is that the ring must either be platinum or white gold or something expensive like that. I found that rather interesting.

But when my Mom who spent a couple of weeks with us here in the Penh last week made a comment, it got me kind of annoyed, really. She took a closer look at my ring again and this time, I didn’t have the heart to hide the truth – that it was a simple, plain 925 sterling silver ring. And then she went “So Cheapskate!”. Sigh.

I don’t like gold. I am certainly not a fan of stones either. Not even diamonds – and they are supposed to be a girl’s best friend! And for those who know me, or at least, have seen me, they would remember that I am a “silver” girl. I have a silver ring on each finger (one from each guy that I’ve ever dated – according to my godson, Ryan. Haha.) and silver earrings and silver necklace and dolphin pendant and silver bracelet and silver anklet. I remember doing this ‘silver style’ ever since I hung up the high school pinafore. I like it, it’s nice, it’s a little bo-ho, it suits me fine. So, I imagined that a little sparkling stone or gold for that matter, in the midst of all that silver would stand out like a sore thumb.

And I never take them off. Not my rings, not my earrings, not my bracelets. Nothing. I shower wearing them, sleep wearing them, make love wearing them, go to the gym wearing them, swim wearing them, get into the ocean wearing them, go camping wearing them. Basically, I cannot be bothered taking them on and off all the time (too many of them and it would take away 10 minutes of my precious time). So you see, I do need something hardy, and definitely not too expensive. In fact – the cheaper, the better because I don’t feel that painful when I damage it.

I remember my engagement ring. I think there’s a diamond there somewhere (haha). I wore it the first day – to the gym and lifted weights. I got scratch marks all over the ring. Needless to say, from that day onwards, it has been sitting in its little box, sheltered and protected from ... ME. I took it out once – to wear it during my wedding. And now, it is back in its boxy home. I mean, if I continued wearing it, I would’ve been worried everyday about that tiny stone falling out, about being robbed or mugged or simply, just adding more scratches to it beyond recognition (MOH wouldn’t be pleased at all). Oh dear, it’s just a bit stressful, you know.

I mean – are platinum rings or gold rings or diamond rings seen as more romantic? I think the fact that MOH considered my style and my everyday abuse of my jewellery more romantic. I want to be able to wear the ring with me all the time! For me, the romanticism is in the fact that it is worn on the fourth finger of the left hand (because there’s a vein there that goes directly to the heart – oh-so-ROMANTIC!) and the fact that if I get to wear it all the time, it almost feels like I’m being ‘protected’. Cheesy, but romantic all the same.

So you see, I’m perfectly happy with my 925 silver wedding band. But MOH said he wants to engrave something onto our wedding rings (like the tattoos are not enough...) Very romantic indeed. But what if I lose the ring? *Gasp*