Murky Clarity

The Power of the Media

In the wake of singer Christina Grimmie's tragic and senseless murder, I came across a random tweet. Paraphrasing it, it goes like this:

Muslim killer - 7 days before name is released. Black killer - 3 days before name is released. White killer - name released immediately.

The source of the tweet is, of course, a white guy. Most probably complaining to the void about how unfair it is for white folks, how they are singled out when other peoples' identities are protected for as long as possible, when in reality, it's the other way around. And after half a day has gone by, I still find the tweet disturbing.

First off, it's scary how freedom to own and carry guns in America has led to all these senseless killings. The victims are mostly children and young adults. So much potential, lost. So much life, taken too early.

Here's the thing: by naming the perpetrator immediately, by giving him a face, the media absolves everyone else from his crime. I'm not surprised if within these few days, terms like 'mentally unstable' and 'lone wolf' and 'disturbed individual' will come into play. All of these are excuses to mask the terror that has taken place.

The reason why it takes much longer to name a Muslim murderer is because the longer the term 'Muslim' is broadcasted, the bigger the suspicion toward Muslims in general. The bigger the suspicion, the easier it is to rally people against a common enemy. Not an individual who may or may not be mentally unstable and disturbed, but entire communities of the particular Faith.

Rule by fear. That's powerful stuff right there.

Sheep are terrified of shepherd dogs. They move as a unit wherever the dogs round them up. We are such lambs. Baa.

How are these acts of unforgivable violence by white people not an act of terror? Why is a rapist protected behind the term college athlete, and his act of violence called sexual assault instead of rape? Why are mass murderers protected behind the terms 'lone wolf' and 'mentally disturbed'?

When did the world decide that the whites are a supreme race?

The sad thing is, even in Malaysia, we have the same problem. Malay supremacy. The privileged race. A delusion, no more than that, but still. Who decides which race is superior over others?

The media.

With wordplays, they package stories for the masses. With well-worded headlines, they control how the public thinks. Those who control the media shape how the world thinks.

It's disturbing how powerful words are.

A Writer's Integrity. Also, Interzone!

I should be sleeping right now, but here I am, writing this.

I am back in Kelantan for that final stretch of my journey as a Master’s degree candidate. But this is not about this particular facet of my life. Not yet, at least. I started a thread in a local writers’ group on Facebook, more or less to gauge how local writers approach their characters.

But I’m not even talking about that.

What has been bugging my mind since last night is a surprising reaction from one of the members who immediately blocked me on Facebook AND Twitter after a comment I made. When investigated, my friend and I discovered that said member was both pissed off and disappointed that I’m publishing a story about a prostitute, how in a typical male fashion, I am demeaning women. I am perpetuating misogyny.

One person’s opinion shouldn’t matter, especially when that opinion was formed based on a sliver of a whole. Other people’s opinion doesn’t make me or even break me. However, I keep thinking about said person’s reaction, and how things managed to blow out of proportion, and I am deeply saddened by it.

So let me tell my side of the story.

When Fixi Novo let out a call for submission for a Malaysian cyberpunk anthology, I was intrigued. I like cyberpunk well enough, but to be honest, I’m kinda miffed that when people say Malaysian English Science Fiction writers, I somehow fly under their radars. Probably because I tend to step on other people’s feet with my opinions and loud thoughts.

So. I wanted to write a story for that anthology, but life happened, and I had to concentrate on finishing and submitting my dissertation. Glad that’s out of the way (for the moment). Phew! At the same time, I stole time to do research on cyberpunk, and I was also waiting for a character to take shape in my head and tell me their story.

Also, like any other Fantasy/Science Fiction writer, I have an alternate multiverse of my own. It’s a world of Songstresses, spanning from near-future Science Fiction to space faring futuristic Science Fiction, to populated worlds that have forgotten Earth’s technological advancement so much that the stories become Secondary World Fantasy. I already have at least four half-formed stories in my head, bidding their time to be told.

Among them was a persistent image of a young lady singing in a dimly lit club, and her voice influenced the emotions of those who listened. I’ve had this image stuck in my mind for years, now. And one fine December night, that young lady came to life. She started singing her story to me, and she became fully formed.

Did I set out with a fixed plot in my head, using a girl who’s a prostitute?

I never write that way. I’m not a plotter; I’m a pantser. I am so character driven that even though I start a story knowing how it’ll end, sometimes when writing, the main character takes me places I didn’t think of, and I’ll adjust the flow of the story to fit the character.

You have no idea how loud my head can get.

For the longest time, my head has been devoid of these voices. Hearing my own voice can get lonely, especially when I’m a well-adjusted introvert. And now, since I started writing this particular story, the floodgate has been opened, and I can hear all those chatters again. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Back to the story. It’s set in 2032 Kuala Lumpur, where giant corporations have the government by the balls, and zealots are overpowered and are dictating everyone’s life, and racial segregation can no longer be ignored or held back. Sounds familiar? The situation is like 2015 Kuala Lumpur, only intensified exponentially. The narrator is a 22-year-old Malay girl who cannot remember her past, and is held captive to produce emotion drugs. Our generation has screwed up royally when we became addicted to handheld devices, and condemned our brains and the brains of our children to stop producing neurotransmitters to modulate emotions.

In a way, this story is told in a new way for me, with its non-linear narration. The main character, Arya, slowly remembers her past. The question again is did I intend for her to be a prostitute? Absolutely not. Did I intend to paint women in an unsavory manner? Arya kicks ass. She’s noble. She’s a good person in a bad situation.

Despite writing about sex, writing this story didn’t feel like a compromise to my integrity as a person, as a writer like writing “Kiss from a Rose” did to me. I am proud of the finished product.

When I finished writing the story, I had over half a month to meet the deadline. I needed to validate my worth as a writer. I don’t think I’ll ever overcome that insecurity. So I submitted the story to Clarkesworld. It’s a pro-paying market with high visibility, and best of all, the response rate is usually between 2-5 days. As expected, I received a form rejection after 2 days.

Then I tried Interzone, the premiere Science Fiction venue in the United Kingdom. I still had a lot of time to spare, so I submitted the story.

It was a post-rain Saturday evening, on December 20. I was driving, with my friend Adlina at the passenger seat. My phone informed me of a new mail in the inbox. It was a red light at Jalan Sultan Ismail, so I opened the email and this is what I received:

Dear Fadzlishah Johanabas,

Thank you for sending us "Songbird". We love it and would like to publish it in Interzone. We'll be in touch shortly with more details.

Best wishes,

Andy
Interzone
TTA Press

I assumed it was another form rejection slip. Then I read it again.

And again.

And again.

INTERZONE HAS ACCEPTED MY STORY, YO!

What happened in the car was a lot of excitement and drama, which I will not elaborate. Suffice it to say that the story, Songbird, will come out in March, in Interzone #257. Also, cover art!

Since I was—and still am—miffed that Malaysians seem not to notice that I’m a Malaysian English Science Fiction writer, I needed to write a new story for Novo. I asked Breanna, and she said, “Why not write the story of Arya’s twin?”

EUREKA!

When I started writing Andri’s story, I did not set out for him to be a convicted gay Malay guy who’s a practicing Muslim. But he is. And if what my beta readers (Breanna, Rumaizah & Tita) said is true, the story is even stronger than Songbird.

So the question that’s been bugging me is what did I do wrong? Can I not write about women? Are my characters limited to men only, and if I were to write about women, it’s always in a positive light? If that’s the case, then I’ll be pandering to my potential audience, and not staying true to the people in my head who have given my their life stories.

Now that I’ve written this rant, I’m more at peace. Because, despite how badly one (or more) person now thinks of me, my integrity as a writer is still intact.

I am still telling stories that only I can tell, in a way that only I can tell them.

And I will keep writing.

Fifty Shades of WHAT THE?!

I originally intended to write a rant about immature authors reacting to in-depth book reviews, but that'll only make me sound defensive & equally immature, and I know I'm better than that. For the record, however, I am not a bitter author whose work has been rejected & in turn looking for blood from other authors. I'm steadily publishing my short stories, and I get solicited for projects by editors & publishers.

Ehem. Moving on.

So. "Fifty Shades of Grey". I heard that you either love it or you hate it. Or that you claim to hate it, but secretly you love it. Yes. You. Don't go shaking your head at me and showing me attitude.

The book, originally a parody fan-fiction of "Twilight", exploded into fame & generated a deluge of other erotica books sold (and read) out in the open. Seriously. Ah Sohs with flaming red hair can be seen holding up paperback copies in the LRT, so selamba reading in front of everyone. However, writers all across the globe are perplexed & indignant by EL James's success. The quality of writing is SO BAD! HOW IS IT POSSIBLE FOR THE BOOKS TO HAVE GENERATED SALES BY THE MILLIONS?!

Oh, well. I wanted to give the books a try. For research only, mind. I'm not lying so get off my back! At first I couldn't even get through the first few pages. The quality. Is. So. BAD! I left the book alone & picked up better-written Young Adult books. Then I came back & managed slightly farther. Then stopped & picked up better-written Young Adult books.

In the end I gave up on reading the paperback, and decided to try the audiobook. After all, I concentrate on driving while listening to audiobooks. Multitasking. That's how you approach an unapproachable book. Right now I've reached the part where Christian Grey has rescued Anastasia Steele from the drunken clutches of Jose Rodriguez and she's woken up in his hotel room.

Admit it. You know what I'm talking about. Pfft.

Thing is, three chapters in, and I still haven't reached the naughty parts. WHERE ARE THE NAUGHTY PARTS?!

There are a lot of gazes going on here. His gaze. My gaze. He gazes. I gaze. I think I am officially fed up with the word 'gaze'. Remember, folks. Electrifying eye-to-eye contact is a form of foreplay. I think.

Anyway. Back to the issue at hand. Yes, the book is as annoying to listen to as it is to read. That's not the point I want to bring to light right now. It's a particular scene that I have in mind.

The drunken clutches.

Jose Rodriguez is a hunky junior who's into Anna, but she just looks at him as a friend. Upon first contact Christian already knows that Jose is a potential threat. Anna has the hots for Christian right from the start, but her insecurities make her belief that she's nowhere near his league. Clear so far? OK. There's a scene where Anna, her roommate & best friend Kate, and Jose (see how useful the Oxford comma is? I SHALL NOT ABANDON YOU, OH OXFORD COMMA!) go to a bar in Portland to celebrate finishing their final exams. Anna gets drunk, Jose gets drunk, Kate...well, Kate stays hot & sultry. Anna drunk-calls Christian, yada yada yada.

Now here's the important scene: Anna stumbles out of the bar, drunk. Jose follows her, equally drunk. He wants to make sure she's all right. However, being drunk and all, inhibitions are gone & he confesses his feelings for her & goes gropey and stuff. She's still not into him & tries to push him away. Christian comes swooping in, Anna vomits out her entire gastric contents, and Jose jumps away but Christian holds back her hair while she retches onto the street. Still drunk, Anna wants Christian to be physical with her. She doesn't dance, but she still dances with him. She wakes up the next day in her underwear in his hotel room, and gets a little disappointed when she finds out they haven't done the nasty.

See the issue here?

One drunk woman. One drunk man. Drunk woman is not into drunk man. Drunk man is into said drunk woman. He makes his move. He is seen as a jerk. Non-drunk man, who said drunk woman has the hots for, makes his move, and said drunk woman EXPECTS more.

OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD PLEASE TELL ME YOU NOTICE THE DOUBLE STANDARDS HERE!

It's not okay for a drunk man to try and overpower a drunk woman, but it's perfectly fine if the guy is hot & the drunk woman is into him? Come on. Women everywhere are fighting for equal rights & respect, but this kind of trash is still sold by the MILLIONS? Women are lapping this up? Just because the hot Christian Grey holds back Anastasia Steele's hair while she vomits, like a gentleman should?

It's not the quality of writing that I have issues with. It's Anastasia Steele. And I'm nowhere near done with the book.

Because I still want to get to the naughty parts.

In all seriousness, though, what I'm saying is that the book is saying that it's OK for a woman to be violated if the man is someone like Christian Grey. It's messed up, isn't it?

So You Want to be a Doctor: on stress and suicides

We doctors are the best when it comes to suicide; we are among the most creative at it, too. We also have the highest suicide rate compared to other professions.¹ It's no surprise, really. In learning how to heal, we indirectly learn how to kill. Armed with the knowledge, we only need the proper motivation. And stress can be a powerful motivation indeed.

Every so often, an almost brave house officer--Americans call them interns, I think--writes to local newspapers about the amount of stress they face at work.^{2, 3} Almost brave because they don't reveal their identities in said letters/articles, which is wise because they'll only be targets for further bullying. I do not use the term 'bullying' lightly because this reflects badly on my colleagues--and perhaps, even myself.

But our general response to these open letters of complaint is laughing at the article and giving snide comments, because, let's face it, we've been through the same process. As house officers, we had experienced working seven days a week, over forty-eight hours at a stretch, and we had experienced being yelled at by senior medical officers and specialists in front of nurses, students and patients. It's a rite of passage, we say. It's something we all have to go through as doctors, so buck up and shut up.

We doctors dive head-first into a world of death and disease. Among the first things senior house officers teach fresh ones is how to react when a patient collapses. One of the most vital steps is to call for help. Unfortunately, speaking from personal experience, help doesn't necessarily come--not on time, at the very least. During such times, even the most arrogant house officers will be humbled at how professional and quick-thinking nurses and other support staff can be. However, no matter how quick we are, no matter how good we are, we cannot defeat Death. We can't even defeat diseases, sometimes. Several of my friends have contracted tuberculosis even though they have taken all necessary precautions when treating patients.

Shit happens.

Don't get me started on dealing with patients' difficult relatives.

I love working, and this is partly due to the excellent working environment. The whole department is like my extended family, and we share laughter and commiserations. I usually don't feel the long hours, and sometimes I still come during non-working weekends to check up on my patients. Still, no matter how good the environment is, sometimes it gets too much. Especially when patients you've come to care about passes away, or complications you cannot control happen during surgery.

Imagine how it feels when superiors treat you like scum, and your support staff treat you like a snot-nosed infant whose incompetence fills them with contempt.

This example may not be relevant, but I'm going ahead and use it anyway. When I started doing surgery some long years back, we used old and tired bone cutters (which are still in use today), and to do a craniotomy (sawing off part of the skull) alone would take me almost twenty minutes, making the total surgery time longer. I heard that before my time, they used a manual saw, and surgeries took way more hours than I would have been comfortable with. High-speed drills were for surgeons only. Now that the old craniotomes are dying off, we get to use the high-speed drills and an uncomplicated surgery only takes up slightly over an hour for me. Junior medical officers start their career in Neurosurgery using these high-speed drills, and the old craniotomes are an urban legend for them, just like the manual saws are an urban legend for me. We're moving toward a better future.

Still, I count myself lucky for working at the heart of the service. Other centers still use the old craniotomes and sometimes the manual saws.

What I'm getting at is that as the generations move along--one doctor-generation is around 5 years, so don't get any weird ideas on how ancient I am--we get better. We teach our junior better and more efficient ways to treat patients, and we are also armed with better tools for the job.

So why do we slam house officers who want a better work environment with reduced stress levels? Why do we keep on saying "we've been through that. These house officers are such babies."? We've been through it, and it was hell. We know how terrible it is to work for more than twenty-four hours straight, and we sure as hell know the mistakes we tend to make when sleep-deprived. When we hear about a doctor committing suicide, we wonder if we knew that doctor, we wonder how he or she did it, and that's about it. We've been so inundated with  extreme stress levels that we now believe that extreme stress is the norm, and is expected.

Maybe a better pay will help. Maybe shorter hours will help. Maybe a full day's rest after a twenty-four hours shift will help. Maybe even a mandatory one-week leave will help. That last one will definitely help, in my opinion.

All of the above are rendered useless if the work environment is toxic. No amount of compensation will matter if senior doctors believe that in order to build good junior doctors, you have to break them first.While it is true that fresh house officers start off their careers with a certain amount of arrogance--after all, we are among the brightest over-achievers--we don't have to make them hate their jobs. Humility and humiliation are two vastly different things, and to be honest, I think we have lost sight of that.

Being a doctor is stressful enough as it is. To ensure a better future for the younger generations, why not show our support instead of shooting them down? Why not show solidarity in securing a better life for all of us in and out of the workplace? And even if the authorities will do nothing other than write an empty response letter, why can't we create a healthy work environment?

Don't let a hard life make you just as hard. The next time we think about laughing at an article of complaint written by a house officer, why not think about the hell we've been through, and feel a little compassion toward these juniors. The people who voice out their concerns and complaints are courageous people who want a change for the better. These people should be lauded, lot laughed at.

Though I have to admit, with certain people, no amount of love and attention will make a difference.

 

 

_________________________________________________________

¹ Ilan Shira. The Occupation With the Highest Suicide Rate. The Narcissus in All of Us, Psychology Today; August 1, 2009.

² Houseman, Kuala Lumpur. Stressed From Still Working Long Hours. The Star Online; January 8, 2013.

³ Loh Foon Fong, Lim Wey Wen, P Aruna, Shaun Ho. Housemen still being overworked and bullied, sending some into depression. The Star Online, April 14, 2012.

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Why aren't more people talking about physician suicide?

When the service is no longer personal, it gets personal

People who know me know that I'm a masochist. No, I don't derive sexual pleasure from pain--I wouldn't know, but eh. I'm open to new experiences--nor do I take pleasure from getting humiliated. But I am willing to subject myself to unpleasant and trying situations. I wouldn't be where I am today if I wasn't one.

But that's not what I want to talk about. Focus. What I do want to talk about is waiting in line for HOURS just to get something. I did that to buy "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" at Kinokuniya the day the book was released. 3 hours. I did that to buy Faiz the iPad 2 on its release day. 4 hours. Those are the ones I can vividly recall. I must have waited in line for lots of things.

But you know what, those experiences gave me amusing, pleasant memories. People look at me like I'm crazier than usual whenever I tell them the stories of the wait, but honestly, it was fun to witness the quirks and excitement of people ahead of and behind me. Wish I could say the same for my experience getting the iPhone 5.

I'll be honest. I don't really need a newer iPhone. My iPhone 4 works just fine. Except for the battery drain when using the internet (and WhatsApp), the phone still functions well as a phone, a (convenient) camera, and an internet browser. I play games on the phone sometimes, but not the fancy ones. I have my Alienware for it.

But I do like my toys. As a boy, with Mama as the sole bread-winner, I couldn't get most of the toys I wanted, toys my neighbors and friends had lying around in their houses, collecting dust. Mama did buy me toys like Condor from Mask, Lego, and Tamiya build-it-yourself race cars. Nothing fancy and expensive, though. I drained her enough money buying story books every once in a while. Now that I can afford shelves of books and gadgets worth thousands of ringgit, the boy in me simply takes control.

So. Don't ask me why I need a new iPhone. I just do. Let's leave it at that, shall we?

When Maxis finally released the email to register my interest to buy the iPhone 5 about a week ago, I did not hesitate to give my reply. 2 days later, a follow-up email came to confirm the model and pick-up time. I chose the white 64GB, and the pick-up time was between 00:00 and 04:00 yesterday. I figured, since I was on-call, I could just hop over to Pikom ICT Mall, which is a road away from the hospital, and get my phone from the counter instead of having to wait in line for hours. Faizul had agreed to cover my call while I was gone, which was totally awesome of him.

When I got there 10 minutes before midnight, a winding line of somewhere between 300 and 500 people had already formed. When I asked one of the crew members, she said that all those people had also pre-booked and that I had to wait in line. I pulled the "I'm a doctor on standby and I may have a case coming" card, but the girl shrugged and said she couldn't help me. When I tried my luck again with a middle-aged staff who looked like a person in charge, he only smirked at me and said, "then you'd better go do your surgery."

Valid point, but he didn't have to be so curt, now, did he?

Maxis: -1

I called up Faizul and he said that all was quiet so far. I said, "I'll wait in line, but to call me the moment an emergency case is posted." I was already there in the middle of the night like all those crazy people, wasn't I? So I waited. I should have brought the storybook I left in the car, or at least my iPad--another grief as I bought it 3 weeks before the surprise release of iPad 4. Good thing my phone was fully charged, and that my Bose QC15 active noise-cancellation headphones had arrived earlier in the day.

I did come clean about loving expensive gadgets, didn't I?

Armed with good music and access to Facebook and Twitter, I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Maxis: -2

I kept checking the battery life on my phone. I was draining it fast, and I needed the phone to be alive. I couldn't exactly enjoy people-watching and the wait with the thought of abandoning everything should an emergency surgery get posted. Maxis crew came at regular intervals to offer us donuts, water and apples. Oh God. I just realized the significance of handing out apples. I was wondering why that night. Duh.

I didn't take anything. My stomach was already in knots with agitation and guilt. My body was just a placeholder waiting in line while my mind kept returning to the hospital and praying the night would remain quiet. The line lurched, trickled, halted. When some of the crew came asking whether we had all pre-booked (as the event was for pre-bookers only), the line didn't dwindle. AT ALL. I was one kiasu KLite among HUNDREDS of kiasu KLites.

3 hours in, and I finally reached the "ENTRANCE" tent (middle left edge on the photo). I had printed out the confirmation and invitation forms, and I had photocopied my identification card. They didn't have to do much for me, so my time at the registration booth was less than a minute. They pointed me to another queue. Yes. Another queue. A chirpy staff armed with an iPad approached me and offered to help register my confirmation and purchase, so I provided her with all the necessary information. That was when things went downhill.

Another girl walked by and told the one attending me that they only had the black 16BG model left.

What?!

The first girl asked me again which model I opted for, and I firmly said, "White, 64GB. There'd better not be any problems."

The second girl looked at me and said, "I'm sorry sir, we're out of stock. You can buy the 16GB model or you can come back tomorrow."

"But I waited three hours. THREE HOURS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT."

"I'm sorry. This line is first come, first served basis."

"You're telling me that I pre-booked my phone, was promised to get my phone, waited in line for 3 hours, and I won't even get the phone I want?"

"Yes, sir. You can come back--"

"That's bullshit. I don't care how you do it, but you'll procure the phone I was promised."

"That's not possible."

"Call your supervisor or your manager. Now."

"But sir--"

"NOW!"

Maxis: -3

Maxis: -4

Maxis: -5

Maxis: -6 

The girl, who was looking anywhere but at my eyes, bolted off. The first girl, who was now clutching her iPad tightly to her chest, and was now two shades paler, gave me a nervous smile. She didn't deserve it, but I directed my anger and indignation at her.

"You tell me. Is this right? You guys should have saved all the pre-booked phones and only let people buy additional phones from the extra stock."

Oh yeah. I forgot to mention that in addition to the pre-booked phones, one was allowed to purchase another phone at retail price. I saw plenty of customers leaving with at least 2 paper bags.

"I know. It's unfair."

"It's not just unfair. It's not right. If I had lined up without booking ahead, I'd have been okay with it. But I've been promised, in writing, and you guys are giving me lame excuses."

"I know. It's not right."

Fadz: -1 (for scaring her. I had every right to throw a hissy fit. I didn't go all-out bitch mode, but just used my laser eyes, amped my arrogance to palpable levels, and spoke in the most fluent, non-Malaysian English in a clear and loud voice. It's more of a contained rage, but I'll call it a hissy fit because I can. Bugger off.)

The second girl came back and said, "I'm sorry sir. I can't help you."

"Manager. Now. Before I take action." I forced myself not to shout. I was already shaking, the paper in my hand crumpled.

She scampered off, and the girl beside me edged away. The people around me were stealing nervous glances at me. I didn't care what anyone said.

She came back with a big guy who looked like a club bouncer, and promptly left us.

"Boleh saya tolong encik?" he said. To his credit, he was calm and collected, and polite.

"Nak saya cakap kuat ke cakap perlahan?"

"Cakap perlahan la encik," he said, glancing around. Other customers were getting restless. "Saya nak tolong encik ni."

I think he saw the anger in my eyes, in the way I stand, because before I could answer, he beckoned me to the side, and led me to the front of the line. He instructed the crew guarding the makeshift gate to let me through.

"Encik tunggu sini kejap," he said, pointing at a bench just outside the main tent. After a minute or so, he came back and led me in. He pulled a much younger staff aside and said, "assist customer ni. Make sure he gets the white 64GB."

"Ada lagi ke?" the worker ant asked.

"Last. Make sure dia dapat."

Maxis: -5 (I don't know if I should give the +1 to the guy or to Maxis, but we were getting somewhere).

"OK ye encik?" the guy said.

I smiled at him even though I was still shaking. "Terima kasih banyak-banyak."

 The worker ant filled up a form for me and got me my queue number (yes, another queue), but this time there were comfortable sofas. And I was number 84, and they were serving number 82. It was already 03:40, and I was still indignant. People at the counter were all buying at least 2 iPhones, and there were boxes on unopened boxes of phones. I waited for almost 5 minutes before I was called, and the girl behind the counter was polite, even though she was visibly tired. To my left and right, customers were treated with congeniality by additional staff on top of those serving them. When the girl stifled a yawn, I asked, "You're continuing work this morning or someone will take over the shift?"

"The VIP section is opened during this slot only."

Wait. VIP section?

Senior staff at the back were asking around if people were going to buy any more phones or they would start packing.

I asked the girl, "Do you still have the 32GB black model to buy at retail price?"

"Sure. We have lots more."

Backtrack. The staff outside was informing everyone that they only had the black 16GB left, and nothing else, despite customers having pre-booked different models.

So. What did I do? I bought the black 32GB at retail price.

Fadz: -2

I felt bad because I scolded the staff outside for selling extra iPhones to customers and in the process robbing others of their pre-booked models. So I was being a hypocrite by getting an extra phone for myself. The guys had all the models in stock and were packing them up. I was already pissed of for having to wait over 3 hours and almost didn't get the phone I wanted. I wouldn't have gotten what I came for if I hadn't thrown a hissy fit. Judge me all you want, but I felt that I deserved to buy that second phone.

During the purchasing process, I overheard the staff talking about closing shop at 04:00 sharp, as the schedule stated. Another staff said all those people waiting outside would not be able to purchase their phones despite having pre-booked for that slot. I knew for a fact that the last person to have queued up did so around 02:00.

It didn't matter. They were going to close shop anyway.

Maxis: -6

When I completed the transaction and walked off with a paper bag filled with 2 iPhones and several thousand ringgit poorer, I noticed that people were still in line within the tent area, and at the registration booths at the entrance, people were grouped up, hands raised. My best bet: they were just informed that only the black 16GB was available, and that Maxis was closing shop, so who were the last few customers willing to buy that model. Behind them, at least 40 to 50 people were still lined up outside in the cold, dark night, oblivious to the disappointment that awaited them.

People were willing to pay good money to be handed scraps. They were more than willing; they were desperate. Scraps. This is what our society has been reduced to.

Maxis: -7

When I got back to the hospital at 04:20, I was still shaking. Part of it was anger. A larger part was disbelief. If I hadn't created a scene, I would not have received the phone that was promised me in advance. If I hadn't created a scene, I would not have been bumped up the queue, straight into the VIP section. I have no illusions that I deserved to be in the VIP section; I did not belong there. It took bold indignation on my part, asserting my rights as a customer, to be treated like an actual person.

I activated my new phone to make sure I was contactable (my old sim was already deactivated), and went promptly to sleep. I was dead tired. Anger had drained everything from me, and I hate being angry. I didn't get the satisfaction of owning a new toy like I did before. I didn't even get the gratification of accomplishment. The procurement felt tainted.

Alhamdulillah, at least there were no emergency cases throughout the night. I still woke up tired, spent, though.

The story doesn't stop here. After Friday prayers, Shiraz and I stopped by the Maxis center in KLCC. Needless to say, it was full. We approached a promoter and I asked if there were any iPhones left.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "We're totally out of stock."

"Dang."

"You can register your name and come back early tomorrow morning."

Shiraz and I looked at each other. "Wait," I said. "You said you're totally out of stock."

"Yes, but just come back tomorrow morning. We open at 08:30."

"Do you have a daily sales quota that you've reached?"

"No. We're out of stock. Honest."

"So you should still be out of stock if we come back tomorrow morning, right?"

Silence.

Shiraz smirked and walked over to get a brochure. The promoters didn't even entertain him.

Maxis: -8

We left Maxis center and looked for the Celcom outlet, as they were also selling the iPhone 5. The promoter lady was very friendly. Good start. Unfortunately, the iPhone 5 plan package was sold out. Bummer.

But wait. "You can still purchase the iPhone 5 without the package."

"So you still have the phones?" Shiraz asked.

"Yes. But the package is sold out. We have the white 16GB and 64GB right now if you want. The 16GB is RM2499."

A bit more? "The 32GB retail price is RM2499," I said. "The 16GB is only RM2199."

The promoter nodded. "Apple only sent 1000 units to Malaysia. We had to get the phones from a different dealer, so it's a bit more expensive. So do you want to purchase one?"

Celcom: -10 for trying to con us.

It's no longer about serving customers and doing right by them. It's all about the money. Maxis didn't care if people were disappointed despite having to wait in line for 4 hours. Their product was selling, and that's the bottom line. They didn't care if they lost customers; there were always more consumers desperate to gather the scraps thrown at them.

I posted this question on Facebook, though for a different context: "I don't know which is worse: leading an impoverished life because that's all you've ever known and you may never experience anything better, or knowing life can be better because you've experienced it, but the system forces you to deal with an impoverished life, and you can't do anything about it."

As consumers, we are paying good money for a disappointment. We complain and bitch about it, but when the vendor provides the bare minimum of service, we still raise out hands the highest, we still push others out of the way, just to receive less than what we deserve. This doesn't apply just to Maxis. If you read between the lines, this post is applicable for a far greater picture.

As a nation, we haven't been exposed to anything better despite our rights. If we have been exposed to a better life, and demand it, we are told to either shut up or get out. Gratitude for past actions is forced on us, and we are made to remember the past, always remember.

But not dream for a better future.

Quoting a brilliant book made into a beautiful movie, "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" by Stephen Chbosky,

We accept the love we think we deserve.

We deserve more.

Think about it.

Questioning Faith

 

In the name of Allah, the Merciful and Compassionate.

I started questioning my faith when I was in Primary School. I think I was 10 or 11 at that time. I had a good friend then, an Indian boy who's also a Hindu. He was one of the gentlest, most kind-hearted souls I had come across. He may likely still be the same person, I don't know; we kinda lost touch.

I learned early on that kafirs--or non-Muslims--can never taste Heaven, as they are non-believers. I asked my ustaz if this was true, if my friend would never belong in Heaven. This is what he told me: "If your friend doesn't believe in Allah, doesn't convert to Islam, he will unfortunately end up in Hell, and Heaven is forever out of his reach."

I refused to believe someone as kind and generous as my friend would end up in Hell. I still refuse to believe it. I know there is a special room in Hell with my name on the door, but according to my ustaz, as long as I repent before my dying breath, Heaven is still within reach. It may take me a few thousand lifetimes to get there, though.

That friend of mine? He doesn't belong in Hell. Not for a moment.

Do you remember the song I've embedded? Written by Eric Brazilian, it was first sung by Joan Osborne. I don't blame you if you don't know it. If first heard the song on the radio when I was in Secondary 4 (1996). I instantly loved it, because it resonated. Then a month later the song simply disappeared. It won accolades, but as it is labeled a Christian song, the powers that be deemed it offensive. They got the wrong message, but singing "What if God was one of us, just a slob like one of us, just a stranger on the bus, trying to make His way home" was a blasphemy.

Throughout history, there are "blasphemous" hit songs, people questioning their faith through music. There are also movies like "Dogma" and books like "The DaVinci Code" that are outright blasphemous. While some are celebrated, songs like "One Of Us" are silenced. These are not even made to sway people from their respective faiths, but born out of sincere questions. The powers-that-be took action where they saw fit, and "One of Us" was pulled out of radio frequency and Joan Osbrone was dropped from her label.

Then there are blatant hate crimes, with their prime example being "The Innocence of Muslims". For those of you still in the dark, this movie was made by an American with fraud charges, who allegedly duped the cast into participating and then dubbed certain parts as he saw fit. He claimed he had Jewish backup, and then changed his story as being a Coptic Christian. He showed the movie at a local cinema with almost no turn-up, but the movie was somehow picked up and was exposed across the globe.

The glory of Internet.

Needless to say, rage sparked, riots ensued, and a life was lost. Muslims all over the world reacted to the movie. A "peaceful protest" was also held in Kuala Lumpur yesterday. We Muslims played right into their hands. These sick people want nothing more than to show everyone that Muslims are sensitive, violent people.

Seriously. We played right into their hands.

I get the reason behind the anger. If someone disses my mom in public, I'd probably go mental and give him a sucker punch, repercussions be damned. The Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.) was more than a leader and a revered individual; he is a symbol. This movie portrays the prophet as a barbarian, a pedophile, and a bisexual. This movie portrays Islam in the worst possible ways.

But does this anger warrant an attack against a whole country? What do you aim to gain? What is your message?

An interesting observation, though. While "One Of Us" was swiftly and silently dealt with, the powers-that-be remain at a safe distance with "The Innocence of Muslims". I am not a controversy theorist, but I'm positive there is something wrong going on here.

But again, does this warrant killing someone? I was caught in a massive traffic yesterday, and my friend was late to attend his clinic, and there were also at least two ambulances that were held up.

My questions: had the lives in the ambulances be lost, would the protest have been worth it? Or these protesters didn't even think about the consequences of creating a city-wide traffic jam? I saw some of these protesters, and they were young people. Were they seriously riled up, or were they just in for the fun? Prominent people from the major political parties were involved; if America retaliates, would the government wash off their hands and claim that the protest was unsanctioned?

I was angered when I saw the movie clip, but God blessed me with a sound mind. I believe He blessed a whole lot of other people with the same gift, Muslim or not. I can understand why Muslims all over the world are angered, but reacting violently against a whole nation?

What do we aim to achieve? An apology? Americans are publicly apologizing even though they are not at fault. Isn't that enough? What do you want? Do you want to defend the Glory of Allah, of His messenger?

There are a whole lot of better ways to do so. Ways that don't resort to violence. Ways that don't declare to the world that Muslims are terrorists.

I still question my faith. I miss Allah's presence in my soul, and that is reflected in the stories I write. I want to be nearer to Him, but I will not stop questioning.

Because Allah has blessed me with a sound mind. He doesn't make mistakes. I hope you will use your sound mind to reflect on this, and not blindly react with hate and violence.

Assalamualaikum, everyone.

Peace be with you.

"One Of Us" by Joan Osborne

So one of these nights and about twelve o'clock
This old world's going to reel and rock
Saints will tremble and cry for pain
For the Lord's gonna come in his heavenly airplane

If God had a name, what would it be?
And would you call it to his face,
If you were faced with Him in all His glory?
What would you ask if you had just one question?

And yeah, yeah, God is great
Yeah, yeah, God is good
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make His way home?

If God had a face, what would it look like?
And would you want to see
If seeing meant that you would have to believe
In things like Heaven and in Jesus and the saints
And all the prophets? And...

Yeah, yeah, God is great
Yeah, yeah, God is good
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

What if God was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make His way home?

(Just?) tryin' to make His way home
Back up to Heaven all alone
Nobody callin' on the phone
'Cept for the Pope, maybe, in Rome

Yeah, yeah, God is great
Yeah, yeah, God is good
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

What if God was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make His way home?

Just tryin' to make His way home
Like a holy rolling stone
Back up to Heaven all alone
Just tryin' to make His way home
Nobody callin' on the phone
'Cept for the Pope, maybe, in Rome

 

A little Guidance, Perhaps

I seldom talk about my medical life. With good reason, too, as people have twisted my words and accused me of malpractice and murder. Haters are gonna hate, I'll give you that. As usual, I have to write a disclaimer. To quote Baz Luhrmann, "the long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience." I do not represent Neurosurgery or Hospital Kuala Lumpur. I do not represent the doctors of Malaysia, or post-graduate residents. This is all me.

Savvy?

I often hear complaints about house officers--newly graduated doctors who have to undergo compulsory rotations for 2 years before they are eligible for a permanent practicing certificate. Though house officers are as varied as monkeys in the jungle, the complaints are almost invariably the same: they're useless. They're spoiled brats who cannot do anything right. These statements are more often than not followed by lamentations on the death of good freshly-graduated doctors, or how things were not like this when the complaining senior doctors were house officers.

Let me be honest with you guys. The first few days of starting my housemanship, a specialist humiliated me in front of medical students when I could not answer his question. One of the students answered right, and the specialist scoffed at me and commented that I should not have graduated in the first place. In front of the students, in front of a perfectly coherent patient. My first month at O&G? Hated the department. Hated everyone in the department. Nothing I did was correct. I had to juggle between 4 teams, and I got the heat for forgetting something.

When I left, however, the specialist in charge of house officers in each department I worked for, when finding out a new batch of house officers were from USM, would ask them whether they knew me, and that they had big shoes to fit in.

While not the best in terms of knowledge, I was a proficient house officer. But I did not start off an excellent specimen. I had good teachers: senior nurses, senior house officers, medical officers and specialists. They spent time to teach me. In the span of a year, I learned so much more than I did the five years I spent as an undergraduate. I gained valueable knowledge that made me a safe medical officer.

So. Enough about me. For the moment.

We do not have house officers in my department. The first time I had house officers was when I did a 6-month rotation in General Surgery at Hospital Selayang. Suddenly I had this group of doe-eyed youngsters who kept referring me as "Dr Fadz/Fadzli". Just like in any other groups, be them humans or animals, there were those who stood out, whether from excellence or from sheer incompetence. Most of them were of average qualities, but hey, that's normal distribution curve for you. Sure, the number of these house officers is mind-boggling. When I was one, we had a maximum of 30 house officers throughout the whole hospital. When I went to Selayang, there were almost 20 of them per ward.

So yeah. When I was a house officer, there were so few of us that we had to make up for the slackers lest we would face the wrath of medical officers and specialists. Nowadays there are so many of them that they assume someone else would and should get the job done, and nothing gets done instead. The large number also reduces the chance for them to learn essential skills.

Is this their fault? I don't know. The country needs more doctors, so the government is churning out new doctors to meet the need. When you mass-produce something, the quality is bound to decline. But come on, to have newly-appointed medical officers complain about house officers, when they themselves had just been raised not too long ago?

Something's not right somewhere.

Let me ask you this: for those who complain about how house officers are made of suck, have you spent time teaching them, guiding them?

When I worked at Selayang, the specialists and medical officers organize classes for house officers on a weekly basis. During rounds they asked house officers about patient management. These youngsters were treated with respect. They were nurtured. There were several hopeless cases, but they were closely monitored.

Sadly, when I worked in another hospital (which shall remain nameless, but I'm sure you can venture a guess), there were plenty of house officer-bashing but an alarmingly lack of guidance. House officers who had almost completed their surgical rotation had never been taught about short central lines, ABG interpretation, even fluid balance. Sure, there were compulsory CMEs, but that was for the whole hospital and lacked individual touch.

I took some of them under my wings and did my best to guide them to the best of my knowledge and experience. Those who were interested to learn, anyway. My colleagues were surprised that house officers were willing to help me with inserting IV lines and getting blood for investigations, when they had to do those things themselves. They teased me when they found out I was teaching these house officers.

But someone's got to do it.

It's easy to give up on people. It's easy to complain about others on Twitter and Facebook. It's easy to create a group just to bash house officers. Sometimes people are made of suck, be them house officers, medical officers, and even specialists. I'm not judging anyone.

When I was a house officer, I was raised with love and respect. I was given the freedom to grow, to learn, to prosper. As a medical officer, I afford house officers the same love and respect. Imagine, then, when new house officers are treated with scorn and derision, how they'll treat their house officers in a few years' time.

They end up complaining about house officers when they're posted at another hospital as medical officers.

Break the cycle. Spend the same amount of time complaining about house officers to teach them instead. Treat them as friends instead of merely subordinates. Show a little love.

And a little guidance, perhaps.

Sex. Ed.

In an ideal world, everyone is at peace with one another. There is no war, no hunger, no discrimination. All parents love and educate their children to be better people. People respect the quirks of others. People are understanding. People are tolerant.

But we do not live in an ideal world. In fact, the world is broken. Worse, all of us are broken inside, but we refuse to see it. We build layers upon layers of walls to protect ourselves from the unknown, from all that is different. We fear what we do not know, but instead of educating ourselves, we usually choose the easier path: blind hatred.

Recently there are talks about the banning of Seksualiti Merdeka, a local annual sexuality rights festival. Thanks to social media, everyone who has access to the internet can chirp--or rather, tweet--their opinions regarding the matter. Heck, it's even trending on Twitter (#SeksualitiMerdeka). Sadly, like what is expected when it comes to LGBT (lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transgendered) issues, if you show your support, you are abandoning the moral values of your religion and your country. If you fight against it, you are a bigot. People on the fence are generally quiet, for they fear being labeled as one or the other.

Why must it always be one or the other?

People don't wake up one day and decide to be gay. If only things were that simple. Sigmund Freud stated that all normal people have a certain measure of latent or unconscious homosexuality; however, sexual preference inverses during the development (early) stages of life (Oedipus Complex)¹. It is therefore difficult to fully blame genetics or to fully blame childhood development (environmental factor) for one's sexual preference. Also note that psychiatrists and psychologists use homosexuality and bisexuality as an inversion of sexual preference, as opposed to perversion, which connotes a pathology.

In essence, people do not choose to be homosexual or bisexual, just as they cannot choose their gender or the family they're born into. They simply are. Homosexuality is not a disease; people do not contract it by interacting with homosexual individuals.

So, the big question here: is being a homosexual a sin?

Is it a sin for a person to have naturally red hair, or green eyes? Is it a sin for a person to be genetically predisposed to obesity and heart diseases? Is it a sin for a person to have perfect teeth and unearthly beauty?

Again, is being a homosexual a sin, if a person naturally prefers the same sex (or both)?

Before you answer that, think about these situations:

1. Certain individuals with schizophrenic personality disorders have homicidal tendencies. They can't help themselves from having urges to kill. Are they called murderers if they start killing animals? No. They are murderers once they start killing humans. Even then, defense lawyers can claim that due to their psychosis, these individuals cannot be called murderers.

 2. More often than the first example, certain otherwise normal individuals have urges to steal things, big or small. While for most of us, the thought is fleeting, some people cannot help themselves from having urges to steal. These urges do not make them thieves. Once they act on the impulses, however, that's a different story.

No, I'm not saying that having homosexual tendencies without acting on them makes a person straight. I'm saying that it might not be a sin to be. How is it fair to prosecute and discriminate people for being who they are, for something they never asked for in the first place?

Is the act of homosexuality sinful? All major religions and laws are clear about it. So are extramarital sex, adultery, and abortion without a life-threatening situation. Heck, in Islam, smoking is haram, absolutely not allowed, absolutely sinful, but we see imams smoking in front of their children.

Speaking of smoking, let's discuss it. I think I've talked about this in my much earlier post, but I'm allowed to do a public service announcement, right? The chemicals in a cigarette are harmful. In a worldwide study done in 2000, 91% lung cancer deaths in men and 71% in women were attributed to smoking². 15% of lung cancer deaths occur in non-smokers, attributed to passive smoking. This means that if one person in a household smokes in front of the family, that person risks exposing his/her family to carcinogens (cancer-inducing agents). Smoking is detrimental to health in many ways. Unfortunately, parents smoke in front of their children, and children grow up accepting smoking as a norm. Heck, when Mama told Faiz to quit smoking, he replied that he'd stop smoking only if Papa did.

You see, smoking is harmful not only to the smoker, but to people around them. However, since smoking has for a long time been intergrated in our lives, we simply accept smoking even though the act is sinful. Someone's initial opinion on his colleague or friend or prospective date may somewhat change if he finds out that the person smokes, but he knows that the fact doesn't change who the person is. In time he accepts that his friend smokes so long as they respect each other.

But think about this: we see people selling cigarettes to children below 18. We see children in school uniforms smoking in front of their schools. But do you see anyone picketing at Putrajaya or in front of the Parliament building or even petition for an audience with the king to stop this?

We are a nation where people frown upon the mention of sex education. To the adults, teaching about safe sex is equivalent to encouraging teenagers to have sex. We tsk and shake our heads when we read articles about newborns abandoned in trashcans, in drains, in public toilets. We tsk and shake our heads when we read about teenage pregnancy. We tsk and shake our heads, blissfully unaware that our ignorance is the cause of all these horrors. With sex education, children will be equipped with the knowledge to protect themselves from transmittable diseases, from unwanted pregnancy, from being raped by their fathers or uncles. Children will know which channels to go to should anything bad happens to them.

If we cannot handle sex education which is getting more and more important judging from what we come across in the news nowadays, how can we handle acceptance and tolerance toward homosexuality? If parents are convinced that homosexuals are all evil, that they will infect their children with their immorality, then children will grow up blind homophobes. What happens when they find out that a friend they grew up with is gay? I've witnessed years of friendship dissolving because of this blind hatred toward all things gay. I've witnessed parents disowning their children because they're gay.

Like usual, I'm looking at this from all possible perspectives. Homosexual act is a sin, just as theft, murder and adultery. Islam, Judaism and Christianity are religions of the Almighty. We have been taught to accept and follow all the rules to the latter. For over 2000 years such systems have worked and preserved our civilization. If a pious follower accepts homosexuality, what happens then? Is adultery also permissible? Is abortion all right just because the parents are not ready to have a child? Is it all right to perform a prayer while drunk?

These religions are not like Buddhism, where we can pick and choose paths that suit us. We have to accept everything that is taught, because if we learn deeper, we will see the wisdom in each lesson, in each rule. Take one out, and we might as well have anarchy.

I can't say about others, but Islam is a religion of peace and tolerance. Is it humane to beat someone to death just because he's gay? As I said, a person doesn't choose to be gay. Is it justifiable to cause bodily harm to someone for simply being? I've had a patient who had severe head injury because he was beaten by men living near his apartment simply because he was gay. He didn't hurt others, he didn't hit on anyone in his building. He lived with a Caucasian boyfriend, and when that boyfriend was out, people stormed into his apartment and beat him up. How is this justifiable?

But is it also justifiable to flaunt your homosexuality in front of the general public, when we are well known for our Eastern sensibilities? A heterosexual couple kissing in public will turn heads. A homosexual couple kissing in public will not cause a ripple, but a tsunami of adverse reactions. I'm not saying the LGBT community should stay in the shadows. I'm not saying that I'm against a person's right to pursue happiness, but what if one person's happiness comes at a cost of a hundred people's discomfort? Why can't people be sensitive toward others and respect their sensibilities?

People who flaunt what they have usually have something to prove. There is a certain desperation, that they discard thoughts toward others. Think about this. Think hard.

Now let's talk about Seksualiti Merdeka. On their web page, they claim that they are against discrimination toward the LGBT community, that they want to educate the public. This is noble, and I commend their effort. Any kind of discrimination is worthy to be frowned upon. However, this year's gathering has been banned because the organizers did not get a permit. Of course, people can say getting a permit is almost impossible in the first place, but if you believe what you're doing is right, then fight for it. Fight to make such a gathering legal, since your aim is noble. What's happening now is that people are still going ahead with the gathering, legal or not, and from what I gather on Twitter, the original organizer has nothing to do with this. How is this promoting peace and understanding? Reread my last paragraph and think again.

Remember, everyone has a right to be happy, but what happens when that happiness comes at a high price? Also, because of blind hatred and bigotry, people with homosexual tendencies are always in hiding, are always at war with themselves, because they believe homosexuality is a sin, and for that they are sinful, and for that they cannot accept themselves, they cannot obtain peace and happiness within. How high a price is the public willing to pay for their bigotry?

In an ideal world, you can overhear this conversation:

Doctor: Do you smoke?
Patient: Once in a while.
Doctor: How long and how much?
Patient: Since I started working. Whenever I have a meeting with clients only.
Doctor: You should stop smoking if you don't want to come back with lung cancer. What about alcohol?
Patient: Nope.
Doctor: Married?
Patient: Nope.
Doctor: Straight or gay?
Patient: Gay.
Doctor: I don't think God approves, but it's between you and Him. Sexually active?
Patient: Yup.
Doctor: At least one of us is getting some. Safe sex?
Patient: Yup.
Doctor: Good. Any allergies?
Patient: I had these rashes when I ate an antibiotic last time I had a flu, but I don't know what kind of medication.
Doctor: Drug allergy of unknown type. All right, I'll get the consent form for the surgery, and I'll explain the procedure to you.
Patient: Thanks, doc.

In an ideal world, sexual preference doesn't define a person. He doesn't get discriminated for it, but he doesn't have to flaunt it by joining a parade or anything. It's an accepted part of life, just like cigarette smoking.

We do not live in an ideal world. Far from it. The world is filled with bigots and with insensitive, inconsiderate people. The world is filled with people who refuse to meet halfway, to educate themselves, to understand and to tolerate others for who they are. The world is filled with ignorant idiots.

But this is the only world we have. God has gifted us with the faculty of our minds and the ability to learn, to understand, to accept. We can destroy the world with our ignorance, or we can strive to make our world an ideal one.

Peace be with you.

Always.

 

________________________________________________________

¹Sigmund Freud; International Journal of Psychoanalysis, 1923

²Peto, R et al; Mortality from smoking in developed countries 1950–2000: Indirect estimates from National Vital Statistics, Oxford University Press, 2006

A Plea to All Malaysians

Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka.

Yes, it's that time of the year again. A time for breathtaking displays of fireworks, for colorful parades, for concerts, whether on a live stage or on TV, and for a day away from work and study.

Face it. For most of us, this is what August 31st means. For my family, it also means Arwen's birthday. Beyond that, how many of us really do care that 54 years ago today, we first stood together, as an independent nation?

What is independence anyway? Is it a piece of paper, signed by people with powers to move mountains, to destroy entire nations? Is it that one momentous action, that raising of the right hand high in the air, telling the whole world that we are here, and we are here to stay? Is it an impassioned speech that had created a people out of fractured and orphaned multi-ethnicity?

Or is it a state of mind?

 

Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka.

Yes, it's that time of the year again. What have we learned so far? How much have we progressed? Why are we still that invisible plane between Thailand and Singapore? Why are we a stagnant nation, so caught up in the past that we are afraid to place a foot forward, into the future?

I have never liked politics. Never cared for it, really. I may get into trouble for this. Big trouble. Just as there is a major misconception that Malay is Islam and Islam is Malay, there is also a misconception that Barisan Nasional is Malaysia, and Malaysia is Barisan Nasional. We have to stop thinking like this. Malay is a race, a common grouping of individuals based on genetic and physical traits, as well as locality, traditions and diet.

These are the definitions that I got from Google Dictionary:

¹Race
noun
races, plural

Each of the major divisions of humankind, having distinct physical characteristics
• - people of all races, colors, and creeds
A group of people sharing the same culture, history, language, etc.; an ethnic group
• - we Scots were a bloodthirsty race then
The fact or condition of belonging to such a division or group; the qualities or characteristics associated with this
• - people of mixed race
A group or set of people or things with a common feature or features
• - some male firefighters still regarded women as a race apart
A population within a species that is distinct in some way, esp. a subspecies
• - people have killed so many tigers that two races are probably extinct
(in nontechnical use) Each of the major divisions of living creatures
• - a member of the human race
• - the race of birds
A group of people descended from a common ancestor
• - a prince of the race of Solomon
Ancestry
• - two coursers of ethereal race

²Religion
noun /riˈlijən/ 
religions, plural

The belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, esp. a personal God or gods
• - ideas about the relationship between science and religion
Details of belief as taught or discussed
• - when the school first opened they taught only religion, Italian, and mathematics
A particular system of faith and worship
• - the world's great religions
A pursuit or interest to which someone ascribes supreme importance
• - consumerism is the new religion

 

Note that on both accounts, there plural names to the nouns. Plural, as in many, not just one. I'll talk about this later. Anyway, as you can clearly see, the definitions are clearly different. But wait. ³The Malaysian Constitution, Article 160 defines a Malay as a Malaysian citizen born to a Malaysian citizen who professes to be a Muslim, habitually speaks the Malay language, adheres to Malay customs, and is domiciled in Malaysia or Singapore.

⁴As a result, Malay citizens who convert out of Islam are no longer considered Malay under the law. Likewise, a non-Malay Malaysian who converts to Islam can claim to be a Malay, provided they meet the other conditions.

Now, can you blame the media when they use Malay and Islam interchangeably, when by actual definition they are not supposed to?

But I'm not talking about race and religion here. Search as I might, I cannot find a similar definition within the constitution that equates Barisan Nasional with Malaysia. Why, then, when people talk bad about Barisan Nasional, whether through speech, articles, comics, blogs or even social medias, said people are looked upon as traitors of the country?

In a certain course that shall remain nameless (more from legality issues), we are reminded in rapid succession that we should be thankful to our Barisan Nasional forefathers for bringing us independence, for bringing us peace. Yes, we are thankful, but how long must we hold on to this sentiment alone? How long must we get bogged down with past gratitude? Another 50 years? 100? How long must we wait for another visionary like Tun Dr Mahathir?

By the way, in the same said course, we get snickered upon whenever we get the titles of politicians wrong. Seriously. Do we get our citizenship revoked if we call such politicians by name? Do we fail exams if we get the titles wrong? I didn't get angry when the facilitators called me 'Encik' instead of 'Doctor'. Maybe I should have, since they defended the titles of these politicians so passionately.

Again, in the same course, everyone's so passionate about racial unity, about the deal struck between the BN and the representatives of pre-Merdeka Chinese and Indian peoples, about 1Malaysia, but when I stood up for non-Malay folks in a much earlier course under the same name, I was branded a traitor of Malays. Yes, I can still call up witnesses to testify this. Why the hypocrisy?

On another note. It's funny how the bonuses in the public sector come once every 4 years, right before the general elections. Well, yes, we've received RM500 'assistance' annually in between, but actual bonuses? It's also funny how the stretch of road near my house get potholes, patchworks, and potholes again, but a full coat of Tarmac is only applied, again, every 4 years.

Worse, near the general election, newspapers and televisions promote the goodwill and the community contributions from BN, and highlight the blunders and infighting between the opposing parties. Of course, 'independent' media shows the exact opposite.

People say voting is our right. But withholding oneself from voting is also exercising one's right. To choose between a bully and an immature child? Might as well ride the tide and see what happens. Show me an individual, a political party, a body that sincerely shows progress and maturity, and I'll be among the first to line up to vote.

Problem is, when we don't register to vote, when we don't vote, we also get labeled as a traitor of the country.

See the pattern here?

Childish. Utter immaturity. These are our elders, the ones holding this country together.

It's a waste of time to talk about political parties. One one hand, we have bullies. On the other hand, we have a coalition of immature old men who can't hold it together after a historical takeover of several states. Instead of showing the whole Malaysia how well they can perform, they prefer to squabble among themselves. They break apart before our very eyes, and we don't even need the media to highlight their stupidity.

 

Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka.

We are a stagnant nation. It's easy for us to talk about political parties when we are not directly involved. But what about us, the common people? Instead of figuring out ways to help our own country, we are more interested in things like a Malay ⁵artist wearing bikinis OUT OF THIS COUNTRY. Even if she did wear bikinis here, WHO GIVES A DAMN?!

I can understand the political reason behind Anwar Ibrahim's sodomy trial, but do we have to flaunt it in prime-time news and newspapers? Must we highlight how ⁶healthy the plaintiff's anus is? Must we show the ⁷pornographic snippet in prime-time news? Why can't we see that such things are supposed to be handled as discreetly and as delicately as possible? Even though we may be that invisible plane between Thailand and Singapore, THE WORLD IS STILL WATCHING. Why can't we see that we are being ridiculed?

Come on, folks. There are still Malaysians who cannot pay an electricity bill for three months, that amounts to RM24. There are children here who cannot go to school because they have to take care of their family, of the younger ones. There are whole families riding a motorbike as if it were a car. There are children riding motorbikes with the blessing of their parents, adding to the statistics of fatal road-traffic accidents.

When we don't get a bonus, we grumble. But what about our own contribution? Do we give our all at work? Do we serve the public with sincerity, with a smile even though we're tired? Can we honestly say we've earned our keep?

 

Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka

We have this ugly attitude running rampant. We tell people, "If you don't like our service, feel free to seek it elsewhere." Or, "If you're not happy with how the country is run, feel free to seek citizenship elsewhere." Why, when disgruntled people voice out, can't we reflect on what is said, and try to improve ourselves?

I've been a victim of this. I'm a doctor practicing in a public sector, but when I was not happy with how I was medically treated IN THE HOSPITAL WHERE I WORK, I was told that if I wasn't happy with the management, I was free to seek opinion at a private clinic. This is our attitude. This is Malaysia.

We can be friendly and demure, but we are a selfish people. How often have you given way to drivers from the opposite direction, who needs to enter a lane in front of you? Do you even see the driver? Do you pick up a piece of clean-looking trash that lies in your path, and stuff it in a dustbin? When was the last time you stopped to give directions to lost tourists? When was the last time you actually guided the lost tourists to their destinations? When was the last time you give up your seat for a woman, a child, an elderly, the blind? When have we given a kind thought toward strangers, instead of to ourselves and our lot?

 

Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka

We flaunt 1Malaysia. We force a show of unity among the races and creed, while at the same time show the world how insensitive we are. From the usage of Allah in a ⁸Bible translation and the debacle that ensued, to the ⁹throwing of a cow's head in protest to the resiting of a Hindu temple, we are showing the world how goddamn ignorant and petty we are.

Have you spent some time at a kindergarten? You should, if you haven't. After a tentative awkward period, these children will become instant friends. They don't see skin color or gender or religion. They see children. Children who can be friends. Plain and simple. No faking, no force-feeding unity.

But you know what, in my generation, and in generations after mine, we don't really care about race and religion, other than special sensitivities that we seem to be innately aware of. In my generation, this is especially true among city folks, those who grew up in schools with a mixture of all these major races. In younger generations, people my age are instilling this wonderful value.

People who keep on talking about racial unity? They're the ones who are acutely aware of race. They're the ones who are racists themselves.

 

Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka.

When people mention how stagnant we are, we immediately defend ourselves by saying, "Hey, we could do worse. Look at (fill in the blank with a 3rd-world country name)."

Why not compare ourselves with fast-developing countries? Why must we bask in our complacence? Why must we leave all the thinking, all the work to the governing force? And why must voices of progress be stifled?

When our founding fathers fought for our independence, they wanted us to be a strong nation that can stand on its own, on the backs of its people. Not peoples as in plural, not peoples as in fractured bands based on ethnicity and creed, but a singular noun, a nation, a country.

 

Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka.

We are a nation clinging hopelessly to the past. The ruling political party keeps reminding us of how their predecessors had brought this country together, instead of gaining our respect and loyalty by carrying us forward.

We prefer Raya songs from 20 years ago or earlier.

In our hearts, we leave no room for new songs.

In our minds, we leave no room for new thoughts.

 

Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka.

This is a plea, my friends. From the powers that be, to common folk like you and me. The past will always be there for us to learn from. It won't disappear even if we let go.

It's scary, stepping into the unknown. It's scary, facing forward and not know where we'll end up.

But I have faith in you. I have faith in us.

I have faith in Malaysia.

May this 54th anniversary of our independence bring about change. May it bring about progress. May we step into the future as one people, as one nation.

 

Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka.

Assalamualaikum.

Peace be with you.

Always.

 

- * - * - * -

Sources:

¹ Google search: Race

² Google search: Religion

^{3, 4} Wikipedia: Malaysian Malay

⁵ Berita Harian Online & Berita Harian Online

⁶ The Star Online

⁷ Harakah Daily

⁸ Asia News

⁹ Utusan Malaysia

KL Urban Fantasy: Finish it or set it aside?

Okay guys, I need some help here. This here is a sample of my WIP. I'm 20k in, and depending on how the story goes, I'm either 1/3 or 1/4 through the story. I'm a short-story writer, so going beyond 20k words feels like a tall order. I basically have the whole story (and then some) in my mind; however, translating it into words elude me. I'm still amazed at writers (both published and non-published) who can write 60k words or more for any one project.

If you have the time and patience, please have a read, please retweet, and please drop me some comments (on the post or as an email). I also appreciate some love and words of encouragement, but above all, I appreciate honesty.

Thank you in advance!

 

Download Stormcaller - Chapters 1-4