TESTOSTERONAL OVERDRIVE, TERRITORIALITY... AND THE MALAY MALE (REVISITED)

The unmistakable stench of neanderthal pheromones that continues to linger a whole week after the Umno General Assembly prompted me to retrieve this essay first published 9 May 2009 from my blog archive. Recently, my schoolchum Suhaimi found me on Facebook and it was great to be reconnected. He's still a jolly good guy after spending his entire life as an Immigration Officer. I'll get him to check with his mates in the Department and find out who issued the order to delete Altantuya's entry details from the Immigration database... stay tuned, folks, haha.

Self-portrait @ sixteen

I was only 16 when I met Azizah at a "grownup" party where couples were slow-dancing and drinking alcoholic beverages. My classmate Suhaimi had invited Johnny Khoo and I to the party. As a fifth form student in Batu Pahat High School I was still a Walt Disney kid and as naïve as Dumbo the Flying Elephant.

One afternoon I saw Suhaimi sitting alone in the school canteen, busy rolling a balut (reefer). "What's that you're smoking?" I asked. Suhaimi winked and said conspiratorially: "We call this ganja." I had no idea what he was talking about so Suhaimi explained that in English it was known as marijuana. He pronounced it "mari-jew-anna."

I was horrified. "Suhaimi, you're my buddy and I care about you, so please listen to me and stop this dangerous habit before it destroys your life."

Suhaimi grinned and nodded amicably but didn't bother arguing with me. Nor did he offer me a toke on his glowing reefer. Two years later when I had my first joint I thought back to this early encounter with "illegal substances" and felt like a complete twit. What a namby-pamby twirp Suhaimi must have thought I was! But he was kind enough not to mock me and I'm still grateful for that.

courtesy of Sabrine

But I digress. Coming back to the party where I met Azizah: I remember her grabbing me by the hand and dragging me to the dance floor. Though I felt awkward and shy I managed to pretend to be cool and sophisticated. I was on cloud nine dancing with the vivacious and extremely friendly Azizah. To top it all she was very pretty too. Before we parted she told me she lived in the Gunung Soga government quarters. She even gave me her address and invited me to visit anytime.

About a week later I found myself driving around the Gunung Soga area with Johnny in tow. My dad, bless his soul, trusted me with his car even though I was too young to possess a driver's licence.

"Hey, let's see if we can find Azizah," Johnny suggested. It only took a couple of turns around the neighborhood to locate her house. We walked up to the front door and boldly knocked. Azizah opened it and broke into a big smile when she saw us. She began chatting with us but made no move to invite us in. A moment later we understood why.

A heavyset bloke sporting a policeman-style mustache suddenly emerged from a bedroom and sauntered to the front door. Azizah appeared a tad nervous as she introduced her fiancé Azlan to us.

Azlan gestured to Azizah and she gave us a weak smile as she disappeared into the kitchen, as if to fetch us some drinks. Her fiancé's hunky body blocked the entrance. "How do you know Azizah?" he asked curtly.

"Oh, we met at a party and she invited us to visit," I began... but Azlan wasn't listening. He took a step forward and kneed Johnny in the groin. Johnny reflexively got into fighting stance but I put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "Let's leave. I don't think we're welcome here."

That was my first experience of testosteronal overdrive, territoriality and the Malay male. It was such a rude and unpleasant shock I quickly blotted the incident from memory.


Thirty-three years later I was reminded of Azizah and her possessive lover Azlan when I saw Huzir Sulaiman's dramatic monologue, Election Day, wherein he played three housemates named Francis, Dedric and Fozi. The narrator is Francis (a freelance copywriter who could be either Indian or Eurasian) and the plot revolves around "the beautiful and enigmatic Natasha" (a rich girl who is neither seen nor heard at any point but for whose affections all three housemates end up vying). Dedric is a Taiwan-educated Tian Chua type human rights activist and Fozi is a fashionably bohemian architect and one-time PAS member in Perak.

At the start of the play Natasha is Fozi's girlfriend and she has just left the house after a spat with him. The action takes place on Election Day, 29 November 1999. As the drama unfolds we discover that Dedric has a crush on Natasha and thinks Fozi isn't worthy of her. Cleverly interweaving acerbic sociopolitical commentary into his narrative, Huzir concludes his one-hour neo-existentialist drama with a chilling revelation: one of the three housemates is actually a Special Branch officer who manages to set up the other two guys for arrest and detention without trial so he can get the girl - and possibly a promotion for services rendered towards the maintenance of the status quo.

Natasha in Election Day represents the ultimate reward: the land itself, a trophy bride to show off to the whole world and in whose fecund and erotic soil the conquering hero can plant his seeds.

Was Huzir Sulaiman cynically implying that the old adage - all's fair in love and war - holds true and that only the completely amoral stand a chance of winning the game?

Anyway, as I began to recall that long-forgotten run-in with Azizah's jealous fiancé Azlan, many complex issues emerged for me to ponder. First of all, why did Azizah invite me to her house? Okay, assuming she found me rather cute and was keen to befriend me, why didn't she warn me about Azlan? Those were the days before cellphones and SMSes, so it would have been a bit harder to plan secret trysts, even if she had passed me her home phone number. Yet Azizah struck me as a free-spirited, fun-loving girl who enjoyed a wide circle of friends and didn't see anything wrong with befriending other guys even if she already had a steady boyfriend or fiancé.

Perhaps Azlan and Azizah had very different views on this subject. I wonder if she eventually married the fellow - and whether she would have been happy being under the thumb of such a control freak who obviously believed it was fine for him to have four wives, but strictly a no-no for a woman to have four husbands.

I made an effort to imagine myself as someone like Azlan, who would shoot first and talk later if he felt his boundaries threatened. A man of action rather than contemplation who probably dismissed people like me as lily-livered bleeding hearts just because we're capable of a measure of empathy - and are therefore more likely to welcome the unexpected rather than barricade ourselves against the unknown.

If I were Azlan and one day found a couple of strange men at the door asking to see my girlfriend, what would my response be? First, I'd ask her if she knew these guys and whether she wanted to see them. If she acknowledged them as friends and was happy to welcome them to the house, I'd probably regard them as my friends too. They'd be served tea and cakes and after a bit of conversation I might find I enjoyed their company and vice versa. Even if they initially had plans to date her, they would probably be glad just to be accepted as family friends.

After all, if I'm fortunate enough to have a really hot girlfriend or spouse, she's bound to be a big hit with almost every guy she meets and they would all wish they could make out with her. And if I didn't attempt to put her on a short leash and respected her sovereignty as a conscious and mature individual, I'd trust her to always be honest with me.

It's absurd to force your partner to vow NEVER to be attracted to any other. However, it's not difficult at all to swear eternal love to somebody - as long as it's not exclusive, since one never knows what inner changes one will undergo over an extended period.

For instance, you may believe you're absolutely besotted with somebody when you're 17 years old, only to realize four or five years down the line - or perhaps even after four or five months - that it was a purely superficial attraction, and that it's time to move on. Even so, one must always be grateful for love and good times shared. It's a very positive thing to continue loving the ones you have mentally and emotionally outgrown or detached from - like your own parents or former teachers, for example.

Do you see what I'm getting at? Azlan is a metaphor for Umno's values of pseudo-nationalism, ultra-ethnocentrism, and erotophobic bi-polarity manifesting as an obsession with sex and power. Azizah symbolizes Malaysia.

As a traditional, patriarchally programmed Malay male, Azlan/Umno believes it is his God-given right to possess and control Azizah/Malaysia. The thought of somebody else - what more a pork-eating Chink? - wanting a share of his prized possession Azizah is enough to trigger a violent knee-jerk reaction.

All very basic, really: without wasting his breath by going into a discussion about the matter, Azlan instinctively knew what Johnny and I were after - his girl! - and since he was a much more mature guy than either of us fifth-formers, he simply turned into a bully-boy to dissuade us from ever approaching Azizah again. Just protecting his own interests, that's all. Nothing personal.



But there's the rub. Azlan saw Azizah as his property - not as a living, thinking, feeling, evolving, autonomous entity. Johnny wanted to punch Azlan in the face but I felt it was prudent to just walk away from an unnecessary fight. It wasn't as if either of us was seriously in love with Azizah. We only wanted to explore the possibilities of befriending this feisty, friendly girl. All very innocuous stuff, really, and it was stupid of Azlan to react so brutishly.

By obeying his own primitive, unthinking, territorial imperatives he had shown himself to be merely a humanoid biped not much more evolved than a gorilla equipped with basic linguistic circuitry. If he had had the good sense to break into a broad grin and quip: "So you guys want to chat with Azizah? Well, I'm her manager and it's going to cost you 50 bucks an hour... each! Actually, I'm engaged to be married to Azizah in three months and if you turn out to be nice fellas, we'll invite you to the wedding."

Well, such an approach might easily have won Azlan two new friends. Instead, he left me with a permanent bad taste about unwarranted jealousy, petty-mindedness and the sheer stupidity of being a habitual control freak. Indeed, I'm convinced that people like Azlan - unless they mature and mellow rapidly enough - won't qualify for admission into the heavenly realms, because we can't have such coarse and loutish souls clogging up the free flow of good feelings in those rarefied frequencies.

Nevertheless, Azlan's violent behavior was undeniably effective. I never attempted again to contact Azizah, though for me she will always represent the beauty, nubility, hospitality and infinite promise my country holds for me - and everyone else who regards her as home. And ever since that time the name Azizah has always held a mysterious appeal for me.

Azizah would be past 60 by now, probably a grandmother several times over. I fervently hope she wised up and dumped that reactionary Umnoish boyfriend of hers and married a Mat Salleh instead. In any case, I wouldn't be at all surprised if one of these days a vibrant, vivacious and extremely attractive young woman named Zamila added me as her Facebook friend, and I later discovered her paternal grandma Azizah was born in Batu Pahat and lived for many years in the Gunung Soga government quarters...

FOR THE SAKE OF SCIENTIFIC ACCURACY ~ 

IF NOT POLITICAL CORRECTNESS

Halfway through writing this post it occurred to me that the syndrome I've been discussing is certainly not defined by ethnicity or nationality, nor does it entirely apply to the male gender. It so happened that in this early encounter with "the territorial imperative" the antagonist happened to be a Malay male. He could also have been Italian, Mexican, Japanese, Albanian, Filipino, Zimbabwean, Chinese or Portuguese. Possessiveness is a fairly common trait amongst females too.


Ego insecurity and jealousy are hardwired into our reptilian brains - the most basic, most ancient and primitive component of vertebrate cerebrospinal neural circuitry. In most species the territorial imperative serves the long-range objectives of specific genetic programs in a Darwinian selective process.


Stands to reason that under the harsh, hostile conditions of a prolonged Dark Age, the masculine, warlike qualities would become prominent survival features. However, in an Enlightened Age, this truculent, hooliganistic, shoot-first-talk-later behavior swiftly becomes countersurvival.


Brain supersedes brawn and heart overrides gonads as sentient beings evolve. In effect, the Azlan syndrome is really a residual behavior accumulated over thousands of years when physical might improved procreative odds. In an era when metaphysical vision becomes more relevant and significant as modifiers of human evolution, the gorillaman faces abrupt extinction as the godman takes his place as prime progenitive preference.


Just as Umno has yet to integrate the deeper existential implications of its massive losses during the 8 March 2008 election, a large portion of humanity has yet to acquire the more advanced software that will enable us to constantly be aware of the Big Picture - the larger context of our interactions with other aspects of our constantly expanding selves. Those able to swiftly redefine themselves and their own ego boundaries may be classified as "Cultural Creatives" or civilizing agents.

The 3rd World War is being fought in cyberspace!

As the fallout from the Independent’s sting on Bell Pottinger rumbles on, it has now emerged that they have used so-called “sockpuppet accounts” to spin Wikipedia pages for their clients — including smearing Gordon Brown’s sister-in-law by adding material accusing her of “inciting racial hatred”.

Clare Rewcastle Brown is a Malaysian-born British investigative journalist who has made a career out of campaigning against corruption and environmental violations. She founded a blog and radio station against deforestation in the state of Sawark.

Building on work from blogger Tim Ireland, Wikipedia have identified a list of accounts operated by Bell Pottinger, along with a collection of pages which they have edited.  The account Biggleswiki  - which Bell Pottinger have confirmed was operated by them - has created and populated a section for “criticisms” of the journalist.


Before it was removed in the cull of Bell Pottinger material, material was added which was sourced to a newspaper owned by a governing political party in Malaysia:

“On 25 February 2011, the Malaysian Deputy Information Communication and Culture Minister Datuk Joseph Salang announced that Radio Free Sarawak [founded by Rewcastle Brown] was not licensed by the Malaysian Communications and Multimedia Commission, and was therefore operating illegally. At the same time, RFS was accused of inciting racial hatred in Sarawak through its daily broadcasts.”

To further impugn her reputation, edits to the page to cast aspersions on her being born in Malaysia. Bell Pottinger have also been linked to other Wikipedia content supportive of vested interests in Malaysia, including creating the page for the Earth Awards, established by the Malaysian government, upon whom they heap praise.

[Source: The Political Scrapbook]

Once again Taib’s dirty tricks against Sarawak Report and Radio Free Sarawak have spectacularly backfired!

In the past few hours it has emerged that the Chief Minister, along with his son-in-law, Sean Murray, was one of the clients who hired Bell Pottinger to alter Wikipedia entries about themselves, their companies, Sarawak… and, of course, Sarawak Report/Radio Free Sarawak!

Harry Potter generation: cross-section of Bell Pottinger's
"public affairs consultants" (from their website)

Bell Pottinger is the PR giant that has been at the centre of a scandal that has been gripping the UK since Tuesday. The company, which first achieved fame as Margaret Thatcher’s favourite agency, has developed a reputation for professional ruthlessness and a willingness to do business with unpleasant clients.

Video sting

They demonstrated these questionable ethics when they were exposed earlier this week in a sting by The Bureau of Investigative Journalism, posing as representatives of Uzbekistan, which has been condemned for promoting the slave labour of children in the cotton industry.

Bell Pottinger staff were caught on camera saying they would be willing to work on improving the country’s image, even though reform might be minimal. They would charge a million pounds a year (RM5 million) or a hundred thousand a month.

At the same time the company was exposed for bragging that it had special access to UK Prime Minister David Cameron for clients wishing to lobby the British Government, which has been hugely embarrassing for the Conservative Party.

Taib was a client!

Now the scandal has rolled into its 3rd day with further exposes about Bell Pottinger’s willingness to engage in ‘Dark Arts,’ such as the secretive alteration of people’s Wikipedia entries. The story is splashing around UK newspapers, but is being led by The Independent and the Bureau of Investigative Journalism.

After the details of ten pseudonyms used by Bell Pottinger to alter information about their clients were released by Wikipedia a few hours ago, it emerged that one of the key users of this service was none other than Taib Mahmud and his son-in-law Sean Murray!

List of Wikipedia entries altered by Bell Pottinger using the pseudonym 'Biggleswiki'

[Source: Sarawak Report]

Portrait of a Malaysian Hero: Fan Yew Teng (1942-2010)

Fan Yew Teng in Cambridge, U.K., after a marathon land and sea journey through
India, Afghanistan, Iran and Yugoslavia to join his wife Noeleen (1975)

A year ago today I was jolted by the news that Fan Yew Teng had succumbed to cancer in a Bangkok hospital. I hadn’t been in touch with the man since the mid-1980s, though I recall bumping into him a couple of times, either in theatre foyers or at public forums, but the last real conversation I had with Fan was perhaps when he commissioned me to do a campaign poster in 1984 for his Social Democratic Party which never saw the light of day, apparently because he couldn’t find a printer willing to do the job.

In retrospect the cartoons I did for the poster weren’t all that hot, but it was my first attempt at political cartooning and laid the groundwork for the drawings I did four years later for ADOI!

Fan Yew Teng, the public
intellectual, in 1980

Malaysians were terrified of Mahathir’s secret police – and for good reason. A certain amount of dissent was tolerated but whenever it cut too close to the bone or threatened to make an impact in the public psyche, the full force of the regime’s monolithic power would come into play, making life utterly miserable for anyone who dared speak truth to power openly.

Fan Yew Teng and Mahathir Mohamad are what you might call diametric opposites – not unlike Arthur Koestler’s Yogi and Commissar archetypes, the ultraviolet and infrared ends of the psycho-emotional spectrum. The Yogi, representing inner evolution, envisions a world where every single soul is enlightened, liberated and in a natural state of bliss; while the Commissar, representing external revolution, has wet dreams about lording it over a perfect mechanical anthill colony where every atom knows its proper place and nothing irregular goes unpunished.

The Yogi and Commissar polarity is more or less the same as the Christ-Caesar dichotomy. Is it possible for these polar opposites to align and merge? I would say it’s not only possible but absolute necessary if we are to survive as a tool-using species – however, the only way such a magical fusion can arise from the general confusion is if the Yogi or The Christ is accorded supreme and ultimate power, to be equitably shared with all strata of life and consciousness. What characterizes a true Yogi or Christ is the conscious renunciation of wielding power over others - and loving compassion for each and every expression of life, even apparent enemies.

The Commissar or Caesar types are what we might call younger souls - brash, ego-driven and reckless, but charged with a pragmatic dynamism that can and must be harnessed to loftier goals than crass power-over-others world domination. In the Pentagonian Hawk or Umno Warlord we see a classic example of Little Boys with Dangerous Toys whose playground brawls will inevitably bring about massive carnage and ruin.

Fan at a socialist convention in Paris, 1976

The Commissar or Caesar personality is a jealous, vengeful, spiteful, insecure and malicious Old Testament god who becomes utterly anal and aggressive when confronted with the prospect of having to share power. You can observe this behavior pattern among the Greek gods who were known to devour their own children rather than accept the possibility that one day their offspring will grow strong and take over.

Indeed, you don’t have to go so far back in time – only 14 years ago, Mahathir Mohamad did exactly that to his hand-picked successor Anwar Ibrahim. As usually happens when demented old gods devour their own progeny, the outcome is a gigantic bellyache, followed by violent convulsions, a great deal of vomiting and angry rivers of diarrhea destroying all that we deem decent and honorable.

Well, as one who embodied everything we deem “decent and honorable,” Fan quickly became marked as an “enemy of the state” – and the state took pains to crush Fan’s political aspirations and thwart his dream of an enlightened and liberated Malaysia.

Fan & Noeleen in Salzburg, Austria, 1976

Fan experienced this faceless form of bureaucratic intimidation repeatedly but remained defiant and undaunted. In the 1960s he became active in the National Union of Teachers (NUT) and took over editorship of The Educator, the union’s bulletin. He was among the organizers of the 1967 nation-wide teachers’ strike demanding fairer wages and benefits for this very important profession. The Ministry of Education tried to break his spirit and browbeat him into silence by transferring him to increasingly remote towns and villages. This only served to nudge Fan into full-time politics.

He joined the Democratic Action Party (DAP) in 1968 and was soon appointed Acting Secretary-General and editor of the party organ, The Rocket. In 1969, Fan was elected MP for Kampar and in 1974, for Menglembu. The home ministry used the archaic Sedition Act against Fan for publishing a speech by the Penang DAP Chairman. Although he was never formally disqualified as a Member of Parliament, Fan was deprived of his MP’s allowance, salary and even his pension.

Dynamic young editor of The Educator, bulletin of the National Union of Teachers, in the mid-1960s

Finding himself out of work with time on his hands in 1975, Fan withdrew his meager savings and embarked on an epic land and sea journey from Port Klang to join his wife Noeleen Heyzer in Cambridge via India, Afghanistan, Iran and Yugoslavia. Three years later Fan and Noeleen’s beautiful twin daughters, Lilianne and Pauline, were born.

In Cameron Highlands with twin girls Lilianne & Pauline, 1985

I remember Fan Yew Teng as an affable, contemplative, pipe-smoking man forced into politics by his own passion for noble ideals, social justice and democratic principles; but more so by his extraordinary compassion for all living things.

Fan, Noeleen & their girls in Bangkok

With Pauline in early 2010

Every time Fan came to visit he would invariably have a recently published book in hand as an offering. In the mid-1980s I wasn’t really attuned to local politics and found his books and socialist ideology a mite strident in style – but what he wrote about were certainly cogent issues and he was indeed prolific, churning out four books between 1988 and 1990: If We Love This Country, Oppressors and Apologists, The UMNO Drama: Power Struggles in Malaysia, and The Rape of Law. I believe his last book was published in 1999 – Anwar Saga: Malaysia on Trial. I would really love to get hold of these books, especially the last two titles, and I’m sure they are well worth re-issuing.

Anil Netto wrote a simple but profoundly moving introduction to the December 2010 issue of Aliran, which featured Fan Yew Teng on its cover:

With Lilianne, early 2010

Alas, how often do we only recognize true greatness in people after they are gone forever. Maybe we are destined to do this over and over again because it is only in the vacuum of loss that we can step back and grasp the full impact of a life lived to the full. How true – and even more so – that is in the case of the late Fan Yew Teng. During his memorial in Brickfields on 5 January, speaker after speaker peeled away so many layers of Fan’s multi-faceted personality. Politicians tried to straitjacket him but Fan refused to conform and crossed many real and artificial boundaries. He didn’t need the usual trappings of wealth and status to become a towering Malaysian. Unionist, political activist, dissident writer with his trusty typewriter, global citizen – Fan was well ahead of his time. Long before the Internet shrunk the world into a global village, he was already a global citizen campaigning against war and oppression around the world. Long before our era of climate change, Fan had embraced simplicity so that his carbon footprint was probably minimal. In fact, the environmental component of Fan’s Social Democratic Party manifesto in the 1980s was much more substantive than those of other contemporary parties.

Dr Kua Kia Soong

In a way, Fan has much in common with another cherished friend, Kua Kia Soong. Both perfectly fit the role of clear-minded, articulate public intellectuals lured into politics because they believed real change was possible, but only through dedicated involvement in the public arena.

Fan and Kua both found themselves joining the DAP – and both had personal issues with the party leadership, perhaps because they were first and foremost scholars and humanists, rather than streetfighters and demagogues - and both can be described as fiercely independent-minded individuals who can only toe any party line so far and no further.

Well, Fan Yew Teng has left us to take his place in the pantheon of cult heroes where he can hobnob with the likes of Martin Luther King, Che Guevara, Bob Marley, Rabindranath Tagore, Kahlil Gibran, Bertrand Russell, Frantz Fanon, Leo Tolstoy, and Teilhard de Chardin.

However, former ISA detainee Kua Kia Soong is alive and well and still actively involved in public affairs through the human rights NGO, Suara Rakyat Malaysia (SUARAM) and through his books - May 13: Declassified Documents on the Malaysian Riots of 1969, Questioning Arms Spending in Malaysia: From Altantuya to Zikorsky, Patriots and Pretenders - to name but a few recent ones.

In years to come Malaysians will gain some appreciation of what Fan Yew Teng contributed
to a higher quality of political consciousness

Fan’s widow, Noeleen Heyzer, continues to work through the UN empowering women around the region, while their gorgeous daughters Lilianne and Pauline – now grown into full-fledged incarnations of noble intellect, compassion, ethics and aesthetics – are poised to influence and shape the new world of freedom and joy that’s being born even as the ugly and abusive old world order crumbles.

Lilianne & Pauline: Fan Yew Teng and Noeleen's brilliant and beautiful genetic legacy

P. Ramakrishnan on Fan Yew Teng

[Fan Yew Teng family photos courtesy of Lilianne & Pauline]

Vampire Slayers attempt to stop the Rape of Sarawak

My heartfelt gratitude and utmost admiration goes to Clare Rewcastle Brown (Sarawak Report), Peter John Jaban (Radio Free Sarawak), Lukas Straumann and the Bruno Manser Fonds for their unrelenting efforts towards tracking down Taib Mahmud's vampiric financial empire spread across many continents.

As chief minister of Sarawak since 1981, Taib Mahmud has had ample time to rape, pillage and plunder the 130 million year old Borneo rainforest - and, in the process, threaten with extinction the last remaining indigenous nomadic tribe of Sarawak, the Penan.

The politics of corruption in Malaysia as practised by Barisan Nasional makes Taib Mahmud immune to all allegations against him and his family mafia, no matter how strong the evidence. Environmental and human rights activists attempting to stop the carnage are quickly targeted by Taib's secret police - and invariably turned back on arrival at the airport - or (if they are Sarawakians) forced into exile to avoid imprisonment, and perhaps even untimely death.

Bruno Manser, 11 years after his
disappearance in Sarawak, remains
a thorn in Taib Mahmud's side

The Bruno Manser Fonds was named in honor of a courageous Swiss artist who spent many years living with the Penan and became an honorary member of the tribe. He was a huge thorn in the side of Taib Mahmud's avaricious schemes, and when he abruptly disappeared sometime in May 2000, the rumor mill was rife with reports that a lucrative bounty had been put on his head by logging companies backed by the chief minister.

Bruno Manser: Tribute to an Ecowarrior
Update on the Penan blockade in Ulu Baram
EU delegation visits Penan blockade area without meeting the Penan

Take to the streets when Umno/BN falls... and dance for joy!

Flash Mob Hits Mumbai, India
By NIKHILA GILL

200 ordinary Mumbaikars (aged 4-60) come together one busy Sunday evening for the pure joy of dancing. The historic CST station blares Rang De Basanti on their speakers while surprised train commuters rush to see what was going on...

Two hundred dancers took commuters at Mumbai¹s hectic Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus railway station by surprise on Sunday, when they broke into dance accompanied by the title track from Bollywood hit Rang de Basanti.

The Mumbai Flash Mob, as it was dubbed, threatened to become a viral phenomenon in India by Tuesday evening, as videos of the performance rocketed through the Twitter universe, were posted on Facebook and liked on YouTube.

While the video looks spontaneous, the act was carefully planned.

Shonan Kothari

"One of the top items on my travel to-do list, which I never got around to in Europe, was to be a part of a flash mob," one of the organizers of the mob, Shonan Kothari, formerly a researcher for Harvard Business School, said in a telephone interview. "Since India didn¹t have anything of the sort, I figured I'd do it myself," she said.

Getting over 200 people to participate in a choreographed dance in the middle of Mumbai¹s bustling central railway station required a month of planning, including visits to three different departments at the station for security clearance. Atul Rane, senior divisional operations manager at Indian Railways, helped coordinate with other departments to organize the lighting, ladders and camera placements, Ms. Kothari said.

Then Ms. Kothari had to coordinate the dancers. "I had 325 people sign up within two days of sending out the e-mail," she said. She didn¹t spread the word on any social networking Web site, fearing too many people would show up. The dancers were taught the choreography in small batches over the course of two weeks in a Malabar Hill park.

While so-called flash mobs have been popular in the United States and Europe for years, the phenomenon has not really caught on in India. That may be about to change, judging by the amount of attention the video has garnered. A video of the dancing, put up on YouTube on 28 November had already been viewed by 1,371,662 people by 5 December 2011.

AP

In Malaysia under the Umno/BN regime, this flash mob would have been declared illegal, accused of threatening public order, offending religious sensitivities and terrorizing commuters, and detained without trial - after being tear gassed, water cannoned, kicked in the head and stomped on by jackboots. This is TakBolehwood, not Bollywood!

Namewee has joined the ecowarriors with this funky new video!

Ever since Namewee returned from Taiwan about 4 years ago - and almost immediately created controversy with his Negarakuku video - I've been monitoring his artistic output with interest and growing admiration. This young lad from Muar most definitely has energy, talent and the necessary technical skills to convey his feelings on just about everything through punchy videos and catchy numbers. I have yet to catch his first full-length feature film, Nasi Lemak 2.0 - but it's fairly high on my list of must-watch productions.

This is the first time I've seen Namewee address the bigger issues of emotional disconnect, environmental rape and human greed. And he does it with powerful sincerity. I hope this video goes viral worldwide, captures the imagination of the young, and contributes to a planetary-scale reassessment of our life goals.

Thanks, Namewee, and more energy and power to you, young warrior!

[Brought to my attention by Mary Maguire]

A special tribute to Tung Shin Hospital, Kuala Lumpur

Tung Shin Hospital celebrates its 130th anniversary today! 

 A lot of people drive by this unassuming private hospital every day but not many are familiar with its humble origins as a traditional medicine dispensary and hospice called Pooi Shin Thong - established in 1881 by Kapitan Cina Yap Kwan Seng and funded by public donations.

It was located on Sultan Street, in the heart of Chinatown, and catered mainly for the Chinese migrant community. By 1894 Pooi Shin Thong had grown into a full-service medical facility managed by a non-profit organization. Renamed Tung Shin Hospital, it relocated to its present premises on Jalan Pudu.

Western Medicine Department of Tung Shin Hospital

The Western Medical Department was completed in 1989 and has a bed capacity of 250. Adjacent to it is a 10-storey building dedicated to Traditional Chinese Medicine. As you approach the entrance you are greeted by the comforting aroma of Chinese herbal remedies brewed on the premises.

Traditional Chinese Medicine wing of Tung Shin

Why should I be inspired to write about Tung Shin Hospital, you might ask. On the historic date of 9 July 2011, tens of thousands defied the police and rallied on the streets of Kuala Lumpur demanding free and fair elections. Tung Shin Hospital made the headlines when police fired tear gas and water cannons into the compound of its maternity wing and even trespassed into hospital grounds in their zeal to arrest protesters.

But that isn’t what prompted me to pay tribute to Tung Shin Hospital. Blame it on my old schoolchum, John Arif, who suggested acupuncture as a possible treatment for my backache. He told me he had been going regularly for sessions with a Dr Zhou from China and that he found acupuncture really efficacious. John suggested I get some X-rays done, so I did.

I was at that point undecided about whether to consult a chiropractor or acupuncturist. A chiropractor I contacted was based in Subang Jaya – an area I find almost impossible to navigate; and from what I had heard, chiropractors charge between RM150-300 per session. John said he only pays RM22 per acupuncture session at Tung Shin. That more or less clinched it for me, apart from the fact that Tung Shin is far easier to access by public transport.

27 October 2011 (the last day of linear time, according to the Mayan calendar) was a significant day for me: first I delivered my laptop to HP for repair (they replaced the hard disk under warranty and I was impressed by their courteous and efficient service); then I registered myself at Tung Shin’s TCM wing for a first session with Dr Zhou.

I arrived during the lunch break, so decided to check out the Tung Shin cafeteria. The food was edible and reasonably priced – a very good sign. As I walked along the corridors I sensed the presence of Kwanyin, goddess of compassion. That was a surprise, for sure. I would imagine Kwanyin would be on duty at every healing place on earth – but this was the first time I felt her benevolent presence so vividly in any hospital, not that I often visit hospitals.

 I showed Dr Zhou the X-rays and he pointed at a spot between two vertebrae. “This is quite serious,” he said, quite seriously. He understands English but speaks it haltingly and my Mandarin is limited to “Ni hao ma,” “tui ler” and “chai chian.” He wrote a prescription for a week’s supply of medicinal herbs and recommended 14 acupuncture sessions. What, every single day for two weeks? I asked, aghast. I couldn’t imagine making a daily commute to KL – that sounded more like punishment than cure.

The nurse said they were closed Sundays and for an additional RM2 service charge the hospital kitchen would be happy to brew the herbs for me. It entailed a fair amount of work: soaking the mixture of roots, bark, leaves and twigs for half-an-hour before boiling it, distilling the thick potion; then adding water and boiling again till almost dry, then blending the first and second brews. One bowl in the morning and one bowl at night for 7 consecutive days. I paid RM76 for the herbs, RM22 for the acupuncture, and RM3 for registration. Entirely reasonable, I felt.

Spine is an anagram of penis: do I have
an overactive sex chakra?

I’ve asked myself repeatedly why I was experiencing this spasmodic pain in my lower back which first occurred on 21 March 2011 when I awoke with a dry cough and felt a sharp electrical jolt as a sciatic nerve got pinched between two vertebrae. It hurt to even stand straight and I found my body pulled to the left.

Initially, I assumed it was a physical manifestation of emotional stress. However, six months later the pain of losing somebody I believed to be my twin flame had receded – but the spinal problem persisted. I had heard about friends my age having to go for spinal surgery and didn’t wish to go down that road if I could avoid it.

Gradually, it dawned on me that the lower back pains may have been triggered by the violent cough, which was probably a symptom of emotional distress, but there was a physiological basis to the problem.

Just before my 19th birthday I had been involved in a freak motorbike accident where I flew through the air and landed on my back on the grass verge. I recall springing to my feet instantly to check on my 4-months-pregnant wife (thank heaven she was uninjured and our first daughter Moonlake arrived safely 5 months later). After the accident I noticed two raw spots the size of 5-cent coins right over my lower spine. The scars are still visible four decades later, although I felt absolutely no discomfort then or over the intervening years.

Swimming across the octagonal pool after
jumping from the Mother Fall (M. Hughes)

On 4 August 1992 I did a death-defying leap of faith from near the top of a 170-foot (about 50 meters) waterfall on the Chiling River. I landed at an angle, hitting my lower back and neck, which was stiff for nearly two weeks.

What prompted me to do such a crazy stunt? Well, at the time it didn’t seem at all crazy – it seemed like a gesture of total surrender to my destiny, to my chosen vocation as the ceremonial guardian of Magick River. I was prepared to consecrate my life to guarding this sacred spot, resplendent with mysteries and forgotten myths – and it was a shamanic initiation of sorts.

Indeed, I regarded this spectacular waterfall as the embodiment of the Mother Goddess and the home of rainbows; the 40-foot fall above her I named the Cathedral Fall, a space inspiring spontaneous awe and reverence.

Much more robust in 1992

Anyway, I was in my early 40s then and supremely robust. And in those days there was no internet, so I spent much more time engaged in physical activity.

Fast forward to June 2010 or thereabouts: there’s a high bridge just by the entrance to Pertak Village spanning a finger of the man-made Selangor Dam Lake. On 19 May an acrobatic 23-year-old Swiss guy named Jens had inaugurated the Bridge Jump (click to watch 8-minute video). With a stone attached to a ball of string Jens had ascertained that it was approximately 115 feet (35 meters) from bridge railing to lake surface. Jens executed a series of daredevil somersaults and survived - only to suffer from mushroom poisoning later the same day (luckily it wasn’t lethal; he recovered after I got him to drink some saline solution).

After Jens and his buddy Dominik did the Bridge Jump, everybody who showed up wanted to try it too. I had been contemplating the feat myself for several years but advancing age had made me wiser – to a certain extent, at least - because I didn’t want to attempt the jump without others around to help out in case of problems. So off the bridge I jumped, again landing at a slight angle and whacking my neck and backside. The jump also broke my dental plate in two – but that’s another story.

Chinese voodoo: note the tiny scars 
from 1968 along my lower spine

Considering I had traumatized the same spot in my lower back three times in my life, it’s no surprise the X-rays showed a widening of the gap between two vertebrae.

Anyway, after the first couple of acupuncture treatments I could feel the tissue around my lower spine regaining some electrical flow. Those who fear needles will, of course, shy away from the idea of having needles stuck in various parts of their bodies. Let me assure you that if you relax your muscles sufficiently you won’t feel a thing. However, it takes a while to get used to the DC current pulsing through the needles (some acupuncturists don’t use electrical aids, but I suppose it accelerates the natural healing process).

Assoc. Prof. Zhou Wenyuan

My acupuncturist Dr Zhou Wenyuan is a man of few words but he certainly knows his stuff, intuitively positioning the needles and doing so in mere seconds. Then he leaves it to the nurses to attach the electrodes and turn on the infrared lamp. Within 15 minutes the session is over.

If it weren’t for the long commute (some days consuming 5 hours to and fro on KTM Komuter, because of the ridiculously long wait for the hourly Rawang-Tanjong Malim train), I’d be quite happy to do a dozen more acupuncture sessions. After only 10, I no longer feel the need to go for daily treatment – but the procedure at Tung Shin Hospital’s TCM center is so smooth and painless, I almost miss going.

This is exactly how a hospital ought to be run – efficient, affordable, friendly, competent – and even the parking fees are minimal.

Friendly nurses, Ms Choo 
and Ms Mutupieria

My heartiest congratulations to Tung Shin Hospital for 130 years of exemplary community service. 

May Kwanyin continue to assist in your noble mission of healing and succoring. And thanks, John Arif, for alerting me to the wonders of acupuncture :-)

The acupuncture clinic is on the first floor of the TCM wing

Register and pay at the outpatient counter (if only the staff were this efficient in government offices!)