Friday, May 1, 2020

IF ONLY PIGS COULD FLY... (another timely repost)

And Jesus exorcised the demons from the possessed villagers of Gadara, and the demons sought refuge in the bodies of a herd of swine; whereupon the Master shouted a command and the swine flew off the top of a cliff, only to perish in the crashing waves below...
Of all the fears we are subject to as humans there is none greater than the fear of death, if only because it represents the Great Unknown. No amount of faith in the promise of an afterlife can assuage that fear in some folks.

Is it any wonder then that news of mysterious "killer diseases" invariably spreads faster than wildfire, triggering large-scale panic amongst people everywhere? And when this happens, almost everything else is temporarily forgotten. Reports of scandals in high office... war crime investigations... financial shenanigans of earthshaking magnitude... no longer hog the headlines when something as scary as swine flu or bird flu or SARS or mad cow disease gets introduced as a convenient distraction.

Well, folks, I don't believe in disease, having unsubscribed from the hypochondria channel decades ago. True, I can still experience the inconvenience of a bad case of the sniffles or a prolonged bout of coughing whenever my immune system is subject to emotional stress - but I've long decided that disease is a state of mind to begin with. It only becomes a physical condition when your emotional tone goes below zero for more than three days.

However, my attitude is entirely subjective and there's no way I can persuade anyone else to share my views on this. A couple of days ago, my friend Pat Goh alerted me to an interesting letter published in Malaysiakini by someone named Wong Ang Peng. I don't know who he is, but I salute his fighting spirit and would like to reproduce his message in abridged form (for the benefit of those who don't subscribe to Malaysiakini and therefore may have missed it).

Wong has, in my opinion, got the problem well sussed out - even if he erroneously pins the blame on the Americans. The benighted souls who engage in biowarfare and clandestine population culling projects know no ethnic or national allegiances. I suspect they aren't even fully human - and if they are, they must have been bodysnatched at some point and are now merely human agents (perhaps unwittingly) of an inhuman evil that seeks to perpetuate its stranglehold on human evolution and the destiny of the planet through the rule of fear.

Wong Ang Peng | Apr 27, 09 4:24pm

I refer to the Malaysiakini report Global alarm as killer swine flu spreads.

Since the 70's and 80's, during the Cold War era, much emphasis was focused on developing weapons of mass destruction using biological agents. SIV-40 (Samien Immuno-Defficiency Virus 40) was created and introduced to chimpanzee and later passed on to Africans and homosexuals.

A strong stain of the dengue virus was created in the labs of the US Army and released in Latin America and Nicaragua in the 1980's. There are many other examples.

Every pre-winter season, there will be much hype through the mass media in the West to create fear in the masses that an impending fatal strain of flu equivalent to Great Flu Epidemic that killed millions in the West in the 1920's is imminent.

The effect of all this hype is long lines queuing for anti-flu vaccines. In the tropical regions, there is no such thing as a winter flu season. So, the avian flu was ingeniously created.

Generally, the people in China and Vietnam who died about four years ago were those who had been taking the avian flu vaccine shots.

The H5N1 hype a few years ago caused nations all over the world to stock up on the anti-bird flu Tamiflu vaccines. Malaysia spent about RM60 million. These vaccines usually have a shelf life of around five years. We have another year to go before the Tamiflu stockpile becomes useless.

And now it is reported that Tamiflu is effective for this new strain of swine flu. "A 'seed stock' genetically matched to the new swine flu virus has been created by the US Centers for Disease Control, said Dr Richard Besser, the agency's acting director."

If we apply logic to basic knowledge in biology and genetics, the horizontal transfer of genes can only happen when genes are artificially tampered with, i.e., through genetic engineering, or GMO (genetically modified organisms).
In today's geopolitical-economic conflict, and the threatened beginning of the end of the US empire, it is not absurd to reason that covert activities are planned and executed to destabilize different parts of the world, in favour of and for prolonging the hegemony of the US empire.

Please Google for 'NSSM 200'. In the 70's there was a secret plan by the world elites, influenced by the people of the Rockefeller Foundation, to reduce the world's population from six billion to two billion. The Rockefeller people are in the Obama administration today. Many are members of the Trilateral Commission, the Bilderberg Group, and the Council on Foreign Relations.

From past events and the hype over impending flu outbreaks, it is inevitable that this swine flu which originated in Mexico, will very soon reach the shores of South East Asia and other parts of the world.

There will be panic. There will be public clamouring, and even stampedes for anti-swine flu vaccines. Remember that Vitamin C is the best prevention for any natural or man-made flu outbreak. Sugar and junk food will aggravate any flu symptoms.


"Once again the dark streamers that are heavily influencing individuals in powerful positions have lashed out in what can be well-termed this energy's 'death rattle.' The newest strategy - the ordering of laboratory-designed, created and released swine flu virus - is, as before, abetted by the controlled media's part of the plan, to declare PANDEMIC!

It is puzzling to us that these dark ones did not learn from their abject failures with SARS and then the avian flu, both of which were widely publicized with the same global pandemic prognosis; eventually the publicity was forced to cease because those diseases caused a few deaths, then totally fizzled out.

This swine flu situation will have the same result. The technology of our family in other star nations has neutralized the vaccine that is intended to spread this disease, just as they did to prevent the spreading of SARS and avian flu.

"This new diabolical plan has been done without the US government leader's knowledge, unlike the previous two pandemic attempts, which were fabricated with the approval of the highest members [of the Bush] administration. Think about the timing of this latest disease publicity. In addition to authorizing the creation of a virus and its intended worldwide fear, the darkly-inclined individuals’ aim is to distract the attention of the populace from their growing demands for peaceful negotiations; indicting responsible ones in the US government who authorized torture; the truth about the perpetrators of 9/11; what caused the collapse of the global economy; the decades of government cover-up about the presence of extraterrestrials; who operates the illegal drug industry; the real purpose of chemtrails and weather control; the aims of the worldwide Zionist movement; and the ‘black ops’ behind terrorism around your world.

“It is not enough to create a distraction for only the people of the United States simply because this is the country where much of the corruption and deception originated and where now investigations are running deep. No, it must be a global effort because individuals with dark intentions, who live around the world, are panicking as they see other governments’ citizens joining the clamor for truth, for peace, for renewable energy sources, for improved health care and education, for just laws and rightful recognition of women’s equality.

All of those are anathema to dark individuals as those conditions are the opposite of all dark goals. But just as the collapse of the global economy is exposing the truth about who has been manipulating it, so will this swine flu plan expose other evils perpetrated by the same dark ones within the Illuminati or under their control. Welcome this evidence of progress in ‘bringing to light’ the truth and the fast-withering tendrils of dark energy around your planet!”

There are firm indications that the public-at-large is increasingly skeptical about the motives of individuals at highest levels of medicine and pharmaceutical corporations: There is this sudden outbreak of yet another kind of flu and “accidentally” there is live virus in the vaccines? Yes, there is some fear as well, but not nearly in the proportion the Illuminati intended and expected. Quite the opposite - this is a setback of major proportion for them!

People's reactions show their expanding consciousness, and this is likely to cause widespread outrage that will not be confined to the deliberate attempt to infect millions and cause global panic. Light efforts are underway in numerous other areas too that will remove the long-time heavy hand of dark control in your world. Holding steady your light and being patient a bit longer for dynamic developments will be abundantly rewarded!

Suzanne Ward 

[First posted 29 April 2009]


Mr Lee Hong Wah in 1951
My father was no socialist, nor was he by any stretch of the imagination a capitalist, though his own dad was a self-made man of means  - a registered dentist who, through skill, dedication and a healthy sense of humor, pulled himself up by the bootstraps and died a wealthy, popular and respected human being.

Indeed, my dad was no subscriber to any acquired or inherited belief system and proudly described himself as a freethinker. Too often, being a freethinker is confused with being an atheist and my dad was no believer, though I strongly suspect he saw himself as an incarnation of Eros, son of Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love.

And so every First of May when he marked another solar orbit, my dad would quip that the whole world was united in celebrating his advent on earth, even if they believed they were only paying tribute to the Dignity of Labor. As an aside, it has always struck me as the ultimate irony that in Nazi Germany, every forced labor camp displayed the slogan "Arbeit macht frei" ("Work sets you free") at its entrance. But this is about my dad and the valuable life lessons I have learned from him.

1. If you have to drive, be the best driver you possibly can.

Dad teaching me to swim when I was 4
My earliest childhood memories of traveling by road to holiday destinations with my dad at the wheel and me sitting at the back are all pleasant. His confidence and competence as a driver made everyone feel safe and relaxed. I don't recall a single incident in which his driving put his passengers in any danger, although he did recall one major accident that happened before I was born, when the steering wheel jammed and his car ended up in a shallow ravine, luckily with nobody hurt, just a little shaken. As I grew older my dad was fond of offering me advice on the finer points of driving. He taught me to be constantly aware of the sound the engine made, and to shift gears only at the correct rev, so as to maximize on momentum and extend clutch life (there were no automatic shifts then). 

On long-distance drives, he would remind me to keep changing my visual focus, to let my eyes refocus momentarily on the dashboard, then sweep across the horizon, glance at the rear mirror, side mirrors, and so on - which ensured that the eyes were kept exercised and alert, and to enhance peripheral vision, the best guarantee of being able to anticipate hazards ahead as well as approaching from the rear and from either side. At night he would remind me to dip the headlights whenever I saw the beam of another vehicle coming from the opposite direction; and also when approaching another vehicle from behind so as not to annoy the other driver with the glare of the high beams.

Dad, me & Uncle Kong Beng in Port Dickson @ 1956
Apart from simple courtesy, he added, being a well-mannered and considerate driver contributed to road safety. He would point out examples of good and bad driving, a clear indication being how often the brakes were engaged: competent drivers would slow down at bends by lifting the foot gently off the accelerator or shifting to a lower gear if the bend was acute, while nervous and incompetent drivers would overuse the brakes, even on gentle bends, a practice that could result in the wheels skidding on slippery or sandy patches of road. He showed me how to gently accelerate in the middle of negotiating a sharp bend, to gain traction - a technique known to all race car drivers. I realize now that his subtle coaching has made me a far more conscious and considerate road user, the best insurance against unnecessary accidents. He taught me that keeping calm at all times was preferable to being easily panicked, reminding me that quick reflexes and sound judgment served to minimize the consequences of any mishap. These lessons in good driving can be applied in every circumstance, not just on the road - if you experience life as a journey.

2. Never be in a hurry, even if you're running late.

Mr & Mrs Lee Hong Wah @ 1964
I remember my dad as a man who took his time dressing and grooming himself. He showed me different ways of tying a neat necktie knot (assuming I would someday have a silk tie collection as impressive as his). He would apply grease to his hair and meticulously comb it till he was satisfied with the results. In this one respect, I broke free of his tutelage first by maintaining a crew cut, then by letting my hair grow long, because I disliked the feel of vaseline on my hands.

He recounted in vivid detail how his own practice of never being in a hurry actually saved his life at the beginning of the Japanese Occupation. After the victorious Japanese Army took over the day-to-day administration of Malaya, a directive was circulated to every government office, instructing all civil servants to assemble at a specified location at a specific time on a specific date. Attendance was mandatory, the directive emphasized. 

On the appointed morning, my dad as usual took his time dressing and combing his hair, and when he glanced at his watch, he realized he was running late. Instead of panicking or getting stressed out, he opted to have his morning coffee first before making his way unhurriedly to the assembly point. When he arrived, almost 30 minutes late, he found the venue deserted. He hung around for a few minutes, but nobody else showed up, so he shrugged and went home to a hearty breakfast, then decided to take a nap. The next day he learned that everyone who showed up punctually had been herded like cattle into lorries and carted to the train station, where they were compelled to board a waiting train and transported directly to a remote region of Thailand where they found themselves part of a massive chain-gang forced to build the Burma-Siam railway (better known as the Death Railway). In later years it was reported that only a third of those thus recruited into slave labor survived the ordeal.

3. It's courage, not cowardice, that wins the day.

Wedding Day @ 1938
Dad was not a particularly macho type, although undeniably an alpha male in his own subtle manner. He wasn't one to carouse with the lads and indulge in arm wrestling, drinking binges, and the like. In other words, his was never a competitive ego, although he was undoubtedly an extraordinarily self-assured, confident man. He chose to be charming and gentlemanly, mainly to impress the ladies, not other men. But when push came to shove, he was no coward either. As a youth he met a kungfu master from Shangtung and decided to learn the basics of self-defence, learning the art of swordplay and nunchaku (wooden sticks linked together with a short chain). Later he acquired a double-barreled shotgun, a .22 long-range rifle, and a Browning pistol. He did attempt a few times to get me interested in learning how to use firearms and even let me try out his rifle and pistol in a forested area where no one was likely to get hurt. Occasionally he would join some friends on a flying fox shoot but after accompanying him once on such an expedition, I decided shooting animals for sport was not to my taste and stayed home. In any case I never once saw my dad lose his temper and get involved in any brawls. A natural diplomat, he invariably chose to disarm potential threats and neutralize tense situations by speaking quietly and reasonably - whether to policemen or other enraged road users. 

The Lees in 1958
The only time I can recall his actually picking up his .22 rifle and using it to resolve a dispute was when a relative found herself in trouble: as a naïve teenager she was seduced by an older man and persuaded to elope with him from Batu Pahat to Johore Baru (where my parents resided after 1971). She found, to her horror, that her smooth-talking boyfriend was actually a pimp and had every intention of living off her body. After being kept prisoner for days in a cheap hotel, she managed to escape his clutches and miraculously found her way to my parents' house, where she broke down in tears and explained the danger she was in. My dad assured her she was safe in his house and undertook to protect her from harm. Somehow the crime syndicate that had abducted her discovered her whereabouts and within hours, a car was spotted, slowly cruising up and down the street in front of my parents' house. At one point, someone actually got out and stood at the front gate, shouting threats. My dad rose to the occasion by emerging from the house, rifle in hand, and proceeded without a word to take aim. The gangster dashed back inside the car and sped off, never to return.

Thinking back on how my dad taught me by example never to cringe before bullies, I recall he was always prepared for defensive action. He made it a practice to have some sort of weapon close at hand at all times. He once owned a steel blade concealed in a walking stick, which he kept on the floor behind the driver's seat. On the floor beside the bed he always kept a short wooden staff made from a guava tree. Though only 2 feet long, it could effectively break the arm of any machete-wielding would-be assailant. This was the only defensive weapon I salvaged from the old homestead before the property was sold. Not once have I known my dad to be an aggressor, but he had lived through enough hard times to be constantly wary of unforeseen aggression from others. 

Mum & Dad on vacation, 1983
After I experienced being robbed at knife point one Chinese New Year in my hometown while out on a date with my future wife, I realized my dad was right to maintain his guard, even though he was never one to succumb to fear or paranoia. The few occasions when I found myself facing physical harm, my dad's influence stood me in good stead. One such incident occurred the same day I bought myself a new Casio watch and went to the movies with my wife. I parked the car in a back alley, locked it and turned around to find a junkie brandishing a switchblade at me and demanding my watch and wallet. My wife was a few feet away and she happened to be carrying an umbrella. I quietly told her to toss me the umbrella and start walking quickly towards the main road, which she did. The umbrella was hardly the ideal defensive weapon but it had a sharp metal point. I began to circle around the junkie, ready for action, and was relieved when he chickened out and started running away. So we proceeded to buy tickets and watch the movie. Afterwards, we stopped at a coffeeshop and ordered supper. Halfway through the meal. my wife spotted the same junkie at the counter buying cigarettes and quietly mentioned it. I got up and walked towards the guy who instantly took flight, forgetting his cigarettes. The absolute panic on his face is indeed a cherished memory. I'm pretty sure this incident happened during a particular phase of my urban life when I took to imagining myself an undercover cop by encasing my wallet in a plastic sleeve emblazoned with the Royal Malaysian Police insignia. This $1 investment served to cure me of acute fear and loathing of law enforcement officers, as well as their criminal counterparts.

4. Life can be black and white or full color - it's how we choose to see the world that makes all the difference.

On his way to a bypass operation
in Melbourne. August 1981
My dad was a health inspector and served in this capacity his whole life until his retirement. Back in the 1960s his monthly salary was around $600 and though the value of local currency back then was at least 10 times that of today, we could hardly be classified rich. Yet my father was able to provide comfortably at all times for the whole family. We could afford to engage two housemaids and a gardener - at least until I was old enough to make myself between-meal snacks and wipe my own bum. Every few years we would trade in our car for something bigger and better. When my mother returned to work, first as a schoolteacher and then as a radiographer, we were a two-car family - and my brothers would ride around on their own motorbikes and scooters, later cars.

One day, as a teenager, I found an envelope in my dad's briefcase containing hundreds of dollars. I asked him why he was carrying around so much cash and he sat me down and explained that sometimes, on his rounds as a health inspector, he would find himself in a quandary. For instance, he might have found the wet market to be less than hygienic, with cockroaches hiding in dark crevices and rats scurrying around in gutters. His duty was to issue summonses to all the stall owners, even close down the operations till they renovated the premises. However, he would opt to speak to each stall owner, listing the breaches of health regulations, and asking them to choose between cleaning up their act within a specific period or paying a hefty fine. Invariably they would agree to voluntarily renovate the premises, thereby avoiding prosecution.

Newspapers were a lifelong habit
Once I accompanied him on his rounds and I remember how he would enter a coffeeshop and order a coffee, and the owner would come by and have a friendly chat with him He would then casually remark that a formal inspection was due in a month, and that he would be much happier if he could issue a clean bill of health on the premises. He might hint that the toilet seriously needed a makeover, or that the kitchen could do with a new coat of paint, and then continue on his rounds. In this way he negotiated a fine line between doing his job well and remaining a decent human being. This explained why every Chinese New Year many gift hampers would be delivered to our residence, some with a sealed envelope tucked among the assorted goodies, expressions of sincere appreciation from various businesses grateful to be dealing with such a kind and approachable public servant.

As his youngest son, I had the privilege of walking into any cinema on a complimentary pass and after a while, all the ushers knew me and simply waved me straight in. Riding around town on my bicycle, I would stop and buy roasted chestnuts or fried noodles - and almost invariably, would be given an extra large serving or even waved off without having to pay. I was proud that my father was such a popular figure around town, but as I grew older I began to occasionally mull over the moral ambiguity of my dad's conduct. On the one hand, I was convinced that corruption was not something to be accepted as normal practice; and yet, on the pragmatic level, I couldn't think of any way my father's approach to doing his job was harming anyone. He was charismatic and personable by nature and, throughout his long career, appeared to be immensely well-loved by the townsfolk. He would never ask for money in exchange for looking the other way; his modus operandi was to carry out his official duties with a light hand and an understanding heart, and people liked that very much. So he got the job done without ever having to abuse his power or browbeat anyone.

Between two daughters-in-law in Pangkor Resort, August 1997
Civil servants were often transferred from town to town, to ensure they never became too complacent or corrupt. And yet my father was somehow able to remain in Batu Pahat his entire career without once getting transferred elsewhere. One day I asked him how he was able to avoid the inconvenience of being uprooted and he took great delight and revealing to me that he understood how the system worked. He made it a point to gain the friendship and trust of every medical officer who took over as his immediate boss in the government hierarchy, by organizing and hosting an annual dinner party in Singapore to which his colleagues and bosses were invited. They would eat and drink to their heart's content and be entertained by charming hostesses and generally have such a great time they couldn't possibly allow my dad to be transferred out of Batu Pahat. Sure, it cost him a tidy sum each year - but he reckoned it was a reasonable price to pay for being left in peace to do exactly as he pleased.

They all loved my dad!
Whatever extra cash he happened to earn on the side enabled him to express his intrinsic generosity of spirit. In his last years, he would occasionally reveal some long-kept secret in a moment of openness. One day, years after my mother had succumbed to ill health, he brought out a precious photo album containing black-and-white photos of dozens of young women he had befriended and romanced over the years. He would point to a photo of a vivacious young woman and explain that this was a pig farmer's daughter he had met on his inspection rounds and become friendly with. He would reminisce about how he sponsored her tuition so she would have a chance to get better educated. Then he would add, she often wrote to him while she was studying in Taiwan, thanking him for his encouragement and help, and asking his blessings for her marriage to a young man she had met over there. I believe I was the only one he confided in, perhaps because he sensed that I was the least likely to be shocked or judgmental about his shadow life.

True, my dad had a soft spot for females but he was once known to be generous to a young man hired to paint the house. As a widower his sense of loneliness was assuaged by the daily chats he had with this young housepainter who soon took on the role of his gofer, helping him pay utility bills and helping get his TV or video player repaired when he began to find these mundane tasks too tiresome. My brother Mike who was sharing the family home with dad often grumbled about how my dad was being taken advantage of by this garrulous and always cheerful housepainter turned personal assistant to my father - and, to be sure, Mike's paranoia was borne out when my dad was persuaded to invest a few thousand in a karaoke bar which turned out to be operated by the young man's underworld acquaintances. Needless to say, my dad never saw any monetary return on this venture - and the young chap abruptly stopped popping around for a chat after he got what he wanted - but I had the feeling my dad wasn't at all upset, so grateful was he for a bit of human companionship, albeit shortlived and, ultimately, exploitative and illusory.

Dad's first & only visit to the High Hut in 1998
My dad was a true Taurean, always down to earth and practical, and he had little interest in intellectual or metaphysical pursuits. The only reading he did was newspapers and popular science magazines (he liked picking up ideas for home-improvement projects like rigging up a toe-operated pulley system so he could turn off the bedroom light without getting out of bed). In his youth he played saxophone and drums in a ragtime combo, rode a huge BSA motorbike, cherished a pet cockatoo - trained to perch on his bedstand and turn around whenever it needed to poop, so the mess would land on a newspaper spread out on the floor (sadly, when war broke out in 1942 the bird was donated to the Johore Baru Zoo and when it was all over he went to reclaim it but nobody knew what had happened to his beloved cockatoo). 

Last photo with my dad, April 2004
There are countless anecdotes about his life I failed to record and that are now lost in the mists of forgetfulness. My dad followed his own personal code of ethics and I don't believe he ever consciously harmed or hurt anyone - apart from my mum who wasn't too pleased that other women found him attractive; but why blame him for the genetic legacy that made him almost a Chinese version of Rudolph Valentino? Nor did he, to my knowledge, have any enemies. He was regarded with deep fondness and respect by all his relatives, on his as well as my mother's side, and every female companion I brought home over the years to meet my parents invariably found him utterly charming and lovable.

As I attain increasing maturity I am inclined to cherish more profoundly what my father taught me, despite our outward differences and dissimilar lifepaths. He showed me that there are no straight lines or perfect circles in nature, nor does life entertain moral judgments over absolute rights and absolute wrongs as decreed by mortal minds obsessed with control and power over others. He was living proof that it's far more worthwhile to aspire to simply being a good human than to worry about being a sinner or pretend to be a saint. 

Dad with my daughter Moon at her sister's
wedding. He died on the morning of
14 October 2004 while being sponged by nurses,
one day after his 11th great-grandchild,
Hana, arrived
Celebrating his life on the 104th anniversary of his birth, I have come to value the ordinary every bit as much as I have always leaned towards the extraordinary. If my memory serves me right I was 5 or 6 when I asked my father, out of the blue, is Heaven real? Of course it's real, he answered without a moment's hesitation, even though he wasn't in any way religious. I pressed on: what is Heaven like, can we do anything we like, must we brush our teeth? 

There was a twinkle in his eye as he responded: "Well, you can do almost anything you like, as long as you don't make others sad, or harm them. And, no, you don't have to wear pajamas or brush your teeth, unless you want to, because your teeth won't decay in Heaven."

[First posted 1 May 2017, reposted 1 May 2019]

Thursday, April 30, 2020

Stick This In Your Ear (repost)

THE BABEL FISH is among Douglas Adams's most inspired inventions. This short clip is from the 1981 BBC TV series, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy which established Douglas Adams as the 2nd Funniest Holographic Insert within the Back-Up Google Earth* (the 1st died laughing at his own jokes, and not long afterwards - exactly six years ago to the day - Adams followed suit; now nobody wants to be the 3rd). Oddly enough I found this little gem by "pure chance" - while seeking technical advice on the Blogger forum. A friendly web designer named Nabeel Zeeshan was among those who came to my rescue. I checked out his blog and there it was... the original BBC Babel Fish... exactly what I needed to make sense of these goddam html codes!

*Remember, the original Earth was destroyed by a Vogon Hyperspace Bypass project.

Douglas Noël Adams (11 March 1952 – 11 May 2001)

[First posted 11 May 2007]

Tuesday, April 28, 2020

The Voice of AnaMata RaMuAn ~ Clearing The Confusion (a timely reprise)

Good After Noon,
I am here,
to clear up your confusion.

I am AnaMata RaMuAn
First Cause
Original Feminine Principle
Prime Creator Source
The House of Ram.


we have told you that Creators create Creators, that create Creators,
that Create more Creators.

As these lines continue, Creators create creators, that create creators,
that create creators.

There are five houses of Creators,
with a big

The House of Ram
Number ONE.
First Cause.

We created the other big C Creator Houses.
They, in turn, have created many little c creator houses.
Those little c creator houses have created other little c creator houses,
and they, in turn, have also created little creations, that do not create
in the same way.
Those little creations create, but they do not create other creators,
they create other creations, which are creative.

In that all of you contain within you foundationally,
Prime Creator Source
Golden Thread Genetic,
you have the latent, asleep capacity to be little c creators.

Which means that you can create other little c creators,
and creations that are creative,
when you have re-membered that capacity.

You can already see that, as your current status as creations who have yet
to become creators,
you already have the capacity to
Bring Forth Life More Abundantly
in that you can, indeed, bring forth children,
who are based upon your own genetic,
and they, in turn, bring forth children based upon their genetic as well,
and so on.

You do not have the capacity to create big C Creator Houses.
That capacity belongs only to
Creator Source.

And you may take my word for it, that there is more than enough to
manage with all of the Creators and creators
that have been brought forth already.
At your current stage of development, it would be unwise for you to be
allowed to create creators,
until you have mastered creating creations.

Needless to say,
there have been many creators who have been "experimenting"
with all of you,
and your genetics, for eons of time.
Many of those creators have been called gods and goddesses
in the mythologizing of your historical records.

Generally speaking,
they have been considered to be gods and goddesses
because they have simply had a much more advanced technical capacity,
as little c creators, than did humanity at that time, as creations.
In other words, they were very impressive.

To many of them, you were considered to be likened unto "pets"
that they were fond of, and that they were fond of playing with,
in a similar way to how it is that you provide many things for your pets
right now,
and play with them, and mess with their genetics, to produce, for example,
cocker spaniels and saint bernards
or alley cats and siamese, based upon older, original genetic lines.

Why do you do that?
Because you can.

Do you love them?
Yes, sometimes.

Do you treat them humanely?
Yes, sometimes.

And sometimes not.

And so, in those ancient days, there were many creators in residence here,
that were very interactive with their creations
and who enjoyed romping around with them,
and teaching them tricks, and giving them rules,
and treats for good behavior,
and "punishments" for bad behavior, based upon those rules,

Please consider this in all good humor, if you can, and perhaps you will
not take all of those stories quite so seriously,
but realize that there have been many creators, some much more mature
than others,
who have been involved in the human drama.

Isis is an adorable girl, however, she is a little c creator goddess.
Just like Osiris is a little c creator god.
And, you know, size isn't everything.

And remember, Antares, Isis did not implement The Magdalene's genetic,
I did, AnaMata RaMuAn,
for she is the original extension of
Prime Creator Source
The House of Ram
in the Original Garden,
and I did not give her to any of you,
she belongs to me, and to herself of course,
and to Onaxis who, by the way, is also the original Ram in
The Garden.

The whole enchilada here, as pertains to all of you,
was incepted from THEIR
Original Genetic,
that they got from Atmanu Ram Anu and Me.
Onaxis and Suzanne
Ram and Sita,
are your parents.
The parents of humanity itself,
although they did not create you,
the creator gods with the little c, who stole their Original Genetic,
created you out of that Original Genetic,
and attached pieces of their own genetic
in so doing.

The Boy and The Woman are
Direct Extensions
Prime Creator Source.

You came along a little later.

So, you may want to go back and review some of the stories that are told
in all of your mythologies
and realize that they are true, and that the sons of gods did come down
and mate with the daughters of men, many times, and that all of that. shall
we say "intercourse," has added to your combined genetic.

And remember, those ancient days were of a very different context than
these days
that you are in now, and those stories are not adequate to speak to you
about what the actual,
tactile, physical experiences of the people and beings who were engaged in
all of that really were like.

For, those ancient civilizations no longer exist here in your current location.

In fact, the little c creator gods who stole our Original Genetic had no
idea of the existence
of Prime Creator Source and The House of Ram at all,
for we do not cohabit in the same neighborhood.

Not by a long measure.

Neither were they aware of their great and ancient big C Creator
great, great, great, great, great, great.... Grandparents
far, far, far down their own lines as well.

And so, many, really most, of those ancient gods and goddesses
simply went away, and are doing other things elsewhere,
as it is that they simply no longer pertain to, or care to relate to or
what is happening here now.

You could say, that as the parameters began to change,
and they were no longer
worshiped by their creations, and their temples and shrines were
destroyed and overlaid,
they left, out of neglect.

And when you hear stories about them being jealous, they were.
And when you hear stories about them being outrageous, they were.
And when you hear stories about them waging great battles, they did.
And when you hear stories about them falling in love with "mortals,"
they did.

For they are little children, for the most part, and are not wise in many ways,
but adolescent.

It takes immortals quite a long time to grow up, my dears.

That's why we created eternity.

And perhaps, when all is said and done, some of you will have the
opportunity to visit with them,
and teach them a thing or two, about absolute personal responsibility.

Then, the shoe will be on quite another foot indeed.

none of you will be allowed to do that as a violent representative of a
violent species,
you understand.

So, you may consider that what it is that humanity has undergone in
relationship to all of those little c creators, and how it is that all of
you are developing the qualities of character, out of necessity,
that so many of them lack, perhaps it is that you will one day be able to
have a quality of dialog with some of them, that will allow them to
recognize the depth of their great folly.

So Be It.

Love I you greatly indeed,

AnaMata RaMuAn
First Cause
Prime Creator Source

[8 February 2005. First posted 12 July 2012]

Sunday, April 26, 2020

BRUNO MANSER: Tribute to an Ecowarrior (repost)

Bruno Manser (born August 25, 1954 in Basel, Switzerland) was an environmental activist. He was well-known in Switzerland as a public activist for rainforest preservation and the protection of indigenous peoples.

Life with the Penans

Manser created richly illustrated notebooks during his stay from 1984 to 1990 with the Penan people, in the jungles of the East Malaysian state of Sarawak, on the island of Borneo, near the Indonesian border of Kalimantan. He stayed with the nomadic band of Along Sega, who became the figurehead of the Penan's struggle. Manser also visited many other settled Penan communities in the Upper Baram district. These notebooks were later published by the Christoph Merian press in Basel. Bruno Manser, however, was declared persona non grata in Malaysia and had to leave the country with a bounty of $40,000 on his head.


Manser protested on an international level on behalf of Sarawak's Penan tribe. On 17 July 1991 Manser chained himself to a lamppost with a banner during the G7 summit until cut loose by the police. His protest was featured on the front page of The Independent newspaper the next day. In 1992 he parachuted into the Rio World Summit on the Environment.


As of 2006, Manser has been declared missing and presumed dead. His last known communication is a letter mailed to his girlfriend on May 22nd, 2000, from the village of Bario, in the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak, where he had returned to meet the nomadic Penan he had lived with for so long.

Manser is still regarded by the Penan as somewhat of an idol, named Lakei Penan (Penan Male). A man from the outside world who united the Penan and was accused by the Sarawak government of instigating blockades of logging roads (although no proof was ever produced). Manser's efforts created an impact in Tokyo and Europe, alerting people to the inhumanity of the tropical timber industry.

After search expeditions proved fruitless, a civil court in Basel ruled on March 10th, 2005, that Bruno Manser be considered dead. Manser's unpopularity with Sarawak's government and the logging companies such as Samling Plywood - who have been known to use intimidation and violence as scare tactics - have raised suspicions about his disappearance, none of which has yet been proved.

Anonymous information concerning the presumed murder of Bruno Manser can be sent to this address. [From Wikipedia]

Who will determine the future of Sarawak's Penan?

by Paul Spencer Sochaczewski © 2001

SARAWAK, MALAYSIA: Bruno Manser has disappeared in Borneo and is feared dead.

Manser, 47, was last seen in May 2000 in the isolated village of Bario in the Malaysian state of Sarawak, close to the border with Indonesia. The Swiss had illegally entered Sarawak to rejoin his tribal friends, the Penan, with whom Manser had spent some six years fighting the timber operators that natives claim are destroying their forest home.

I've met Manser several times. We are not close, but I respect his understanding of the realpolitik that is at the heart of most fights between native peoples and paternalistic governments.

He achieved worldwide recognition from 1984-1990 when he lived in the rainforest with the semi-nomadic Penan of Sarawak. Malaysian officials saw him as a fugitive and a provocateur and called him an "enemy of the state number one." Manser constantly avoided arrest with the panache of a Swiss Robin Hood. When he left Sarawak, through Brunei, he returned to Switzerland to create the non-profit Bruno Manser Fonds.

In 1999 he returned to Sarawak and paraglided onto the front lawn of Sarawak Chief Minister Tan Sri Abdul Taib Mahmud's high security residence. Manser offered a truce in exchange for the government creating a biosphere reserve for the Penan. The Swiss man with the impish grin and John Lennon glasses was deported.

Manser has arguably been the most potent catalyst for media coverage of the fight by the Penan, and other Sarawak natives, to protect their forests against what they say are insensitive governments and greedy timber barons.

Defensive Sarawak government officials note that 95% of the state's substantial oil revenue goes to federal coffers, leaving Sarawak little choice but to earn money from natural products, of which timber is by far the most profitable. "Where are we to get money except through the forest," asks Dato James Wong, former Sarawak Minister of Tourism and Local Government and one of the state's leading timber concessionaires.

Malaysia is the world's leading exporter, by far, of tropical logs, tropical sawn wood, and tropical veneer, and second, after Indonesia, a far larger country, of tropical plywood.

According to Bruno Manser Fonds, more than 70% of Sarawak's rainforest has been cut during the past 20 years. Today Malaysian companies run timber operations and plywood mills as far afield as Guyana, Suriname, Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands, according to a report by Nigel Sizer of World Resources Institute and Dominiek Plouvier, an independent forestry consultant.

I served in the United States Peace Corps in Sarawak, not too far from where Bruno has disappeared. For my job (and pleasure) I travelled to isolated longhouses, occasionally running into Penan, who appeared like a breath of wind, gratefully accepted some tobacco or salt, and then went about their business.

During those admittedly idyllic days we would throw a circular fishing net into rivers and come up with more than enough fish for dinner. We would go out at night to hunt wild boar and more often than not return with a hairy pig on our shoulders. The rivers were clean, and jungle gibbons hooted their morning call behind the longhouses.

On subsequent trips back to Sarawak I was angry by the desolation of the landscape by timber operators, and heard complaints from dozens of people in dozens of longhouses. Their homes were being destroyed and they weren't getting anything for it. Fishing and hunting was terrible. The rivers were dangerous places, muddy and filled with debris from timber operations.

I visited Penans who had been resettled into government built longhouses - ugly structures with standard government issue architecture similar to army barracks or timber camp housing. Tin roofs amplified the heat, making the residences uninhabitable during the day. The Penan I saw were listless, with vacant eyes. True, they now had access to basic health care and simple schools, but it seemed as if all the energy had been sucked from their thin frames.

When I discussed these issues with Malaysian officials I got a common defensive response, basically, "don't tell us what to do, we know what's best for the Penan and the forests."

"Look at this map," notes Chris Elliott, director of the WWF-World Wide Fund for Nature Forests for Life Campaign. He points to an amorphous shaped illustration published in the Bruno Manser Fonds newsletter that indicates the territory of nomadic Penan and remaining virgin forest in Sarawak. "Bruno backed the Sarawak authorities into a corner by telling them what they should do. Even the slightest whiff of Western lecturing will put them on the defensive," he adds, noting that you'll find similar conflicts and reactions in places like British Columbia in Canada, parts of Australia, Indonesia and Brazil.

Perhaps it was a sloppy tactic - using western style confrontation to get policy changes in an Asian country.

Certainly, Malaysian officials resent being told what to do by pesky foreigners.

During the height of Manser's long Sarawak escapade in the 1980s, Malaysia's Prime Minister Mahathir bin Mohamed had this testy exchange of correspondence with young Darrell Abercrombie from Surrey, England.

Using his best penmanship, the boy wrote:

"I am 10 years old and when I am older I hope to study animals in the tropical rain forests. But if you let the lumber companys [sic] carry on there will not be any left. And millions of Animals will die. Do you think that is right just so one rich man gets another million pounds or more. I think it is disgraceful."

The Prime Minister replied on August 15, 1987:

"Dear Darrell, It is disgraceful that you should be used by adults for the purpose of trying to shame us because of our extraction of timber from our forests.

"For the information of the adults who use you I would like to say that it is not a question of one rich man making a million pounds...

"The timber industry helps hundreds of thousands of poor people in Malaysia. Are they supposed to remain poor because you want to study tropical animals?

"When the British ruled Malaysia they burnt millions of acres of Malaysian forests so that they could plant rubber. Millions of animals died because of the burning. Malaysians got nothing from the felling of the timber. In addition when the rubber was sold practically all the profit was taken to England. What your father's fathers did was indeed disgraceful.

"If you don't want us to cut down our forests, tell your father to tell the rich countries like Britain to pay more for the timber they buy from us.

"If you are really interested in tropical animals, we have huge National Parks where nobody is allowed to fell trees or kill animals.

"I hope you will tell the adults who made use of you to learn all the facts. They should not be too arrogant and think they know how best to run a country. They should expel all the people living in the British countryside and allow secondary forests to grow and fill these new forests with wolves and bears etc. so you can study them before studying tropical animals.

"I believe strongly that children should learn all about animals and love them. But adults should not teach children to be rude to their elders."

What might have happened to Manser?

Perhaps the Malaysian security forces finally caught him and left him for compost in the rainforest. That way the authorities would have saved themselves an embarrassingly visible deportation or trial.

Another possibility, which I hope is the case, is that Manser has gone walkabout and is hanging out with his Penan buddies. Perhaps he got bored with Switzerland, perhaps he felt that he could do more for their cause by advising them close up. Perhaps he is planning a large media coup.

But Newsweek has reported that four Penan-led search parties have not turned up any traces of Manser, and John Kuenzli, secretary of the Bruno Manser Fonds, says, "We are resigned [to the fact] that if Bruno Manser were still alive, he would have been found." Perhaps Bruno's fate is destined to become an unsolved Asian mystery, like the 1967 disappearance of Thai silk entrepreneur Jim Thompson in Malaysia's Cameron Highlands or Michael Rockefeller's disappearance in the Asmat region of New Guinea.

And what will happen to the approximately 9,000 Penan, of whom about 300 are jungle wanderers?

Certainly change is inevitable for the Penan and the thousands of other, generally more sophisticated, indigenous people of Sarawak.

Who has the blueprint for that change?

Several years ago I consulted James Wong Kim Min (left). Dato James was concurrently the Sarawak State Minister of Tourism and Local Government and one of the state's biggest timber tycoons. James Wong loved to talk with foreigners about the Penan, whom the foreign press has idealized as a group of innocent, down-trodden, blowpipe wielding, loin-clothed people who are wise in the ways of the forest but hopelessly naive when faced with modern Malaysian politics.

"I met with Bruno's Penans in the upper Limbang [River]," he said. "I asked the Penan who will help you if you're sick? Bruno?" Here Wong laughed. "The Penans now realize they've been exploited. I tell them the government is there to help them. But I ask them how can I see you if you've blocked the road that I've built for you?"

I asked if he had a message for his critics.

"If [the west] can do as well as we have done and enjoy life as much as we do then they can criticize us. We run a model nation. We have twenty-five races and many different religions living side by side without killing each other. Compare that to Bosnia or Ireland. We've achieved a form of Nirwana, a utopia."

I explained my experience with Penan who had been encouraged by generous government incentives to resettle into longhouses. How their natural environment had been hammered, how their faces were devoid of spirit and energy, how they had seemingly tumbled even further down the Sarawak social totem pole.

In reply, Wong lectured me, as I have been lectured by numerous Asian officials when I raised similar concerns. In effect, he said "We just want our cousins the naked Penan to enjoy the same benefits we civilized folk enjoy."

"We are very unfairly criticized by the west," Wong added. "As early as 1980 I was concerned about the future of the Penans." He read me a poem he had written:

O Penan - Jungle wanderers of the Tree
What would the future hold for thee?....
Perhaps to us you may appear deprived and poor
But can Civilization offer anything better?....
And yet could Society in good conscience
View your plight with detached indifference
Especially now we are an independent Nation
Yet not lift a helping hand to our fellow brethren?
Instead allow him to subsist in Blowpipes and clothed in Chawats*
An anthropological curiosity of Nature and Art?
Alas, ultimately your fate is your own decision
Remain as you are - or cross the Rubicon!

[* loincloths]

Has Manser been successful?

From a public awareness point of view he has certainly directed considerable media attention to the plight of the Penan and other tribal groups.

But he failed at his major objective: getting the Malaysian government to declare a biosphere reserve to protect the Penan and their forest. In an article in the newsletter of the Bruno Manser Fonds, the activist admitted, "success in Sarawak is less than zero."

Chris Elliott, who met Manser several times, agrees that the future isn't bright for the Penan and their forest home. "There is severe pressure from unsustainable logging, forest fires and conversion to plantations," he says.

Manser had a cautious relationship with the conservation mainstream. No doubt he felt that groups like WWF were too soft.

"We differ on the means," Elliott says. "WWF tried to work in partnership with the government and had some success - a few protected areas were established, there was training of staff, and new wildlife legislation was created. But neither Bruno nor WWF succeeded in getting the authorities to create a biosphere reserve, Elliott notes, adding that WWF now has little activity in Sarawak.

Nevertheless, history isn't written by people who follow the rules. Manser sensed a major injustice and challenged the status quo in which his friends the Penan were paternalistically treated as the bottom of the Sarawak social totem pole.

So, how will this Swiss artist turned ecowarrior be judged by history? As an obstinate fighter for a lost cause or a romantic visionary for a victorious change in policy?

What motivated this man from rich Switzerland to live six years in the forest of Borneo with virtually nothing that most people would consider essential? He learned to process food from the starchy sago palm, learned to hunt with a blowpipe, learned how to live a life that was simultaneously ridiculously hard and unimaginably rewarding.

Manser wrote of his epiphany: "It happened in a prison in Lucerne. I was imprisoned there for three months because I had refused to learn how to shoot at human beings. One day I suddenly perceived the space inside the four walls of my cell... how my body acted as a biosphere... to be so small and yet so incredibly rich and important... I flew out of the prison, over to my parents in Basel, to my friends in Amsterdam... I flew on and left our solar system. Then I turned around and flew back. There I sat, back in my body. Since then I carry this certainty in me: everyone of us is nothing and simultaneously the most important creature in its space and place. Indispensable from the first to the last breath...

"So when people say: 'Don't be active, it's just a waste of time, it won't help anyway,' then you already know that they're scared of losing profit and would even sell their own grandmother. Does it have to be the children today who dare say out loud to the politicians and the economists: support what is real and true, avoid what is bad?"

A passage by T.E. Lawrence comes to mind:
All men dream: but not equally.
Those who dream by night in the dusty
recesses of their minds wake in the day
to find that it was vanity;
but the dreamers
of the day are dangerous men,
for they may act their dreams
with open eyes,
to make it possible.

Paul Spencer Sochaczewski © 2001

THE PENAN: True Sons & Daughters of Mother Earth

[First posted 4 November 2008. Reposted 25 August 2017]