Sunday, September 7, 2008

Leaving San Sebastian Behind

One of my earliest recollection of our trips out to neighbouring Singapore, is passing thru some huge colonial times mansion in this place called Sembawang and asking my folks why the people living there looked so sad, and the meaning of the cloth banners that were tied to the chain-linked fence. It wasn't until I was older did I find out that the sad people were the Vietnamese Boat people caught in Singapore, and that they were awaiting deportation.

Migrant worker
  • A person who moves from place to place to get work

In the year 2001, according to the Asian Migrant Yearbook, we had an estimated 1.9 million migrant workers in Malaysia, out of which an estimated 1 million are undocumented. Indonesians, Filipinos, Bangladeshis, Sri Lankans, Burmese, Cambodians, Indians, Pakistanis, etc, all leaving their homes and family behind to come here to put food on the table.

Though we hate to admit it, majority of us either 1) view them with utter disdain, often staying clear of them unless they are our domestic help, or 2) completely ignore their existence and our dependence on them. It is far and few who include them as their friends or social circle.

With this in mind, it was a humbling experience in Church this morning as the parish invited a migrant community to participate in the service. These individuals made up almost half the congregation. But even in this community ~ a supposed community of brotherly love ala Philadelphia and one united in Faith, it was hard to be oblivious to the following in the hour that I was there:

  1. They all were allocated a section of the church to sit in. Why were they not invited and encouraged to sit spread out among the normal congregation?
  2. The congregation who came just on time for service, had a look of digust when they found themselves having to sit outside due to the increase in crowd. Did they think themselves more worthy to be seated in the normal pews inside the Church than these individuals?
  3. The service remained business as usual, with no effort to "culturise" the service. I was sorely disappointed on this note, particularly when half these workers do not know the English language and thus, was merely being in the presence.
  4. The migrants were dressed in their Sunday's best to worship in the Church proper. I was rather glad that I did not don my usual kit of my torn Levi's and a t-shirt. I would have felt unworthy to be participating alongside them as their reverence stood out so clearly!

I'm not saying that I am holier-than-thou but in all honesty, I do not think my perspective is as narrow. Sure, there would be some bad eggs among the almost 2 million residing on our segment of earth, but that does not give us the right to sideline these people and discount them from our communities.

My kids asked me who were those people on the other side of the church. My explanation, in as simple terms as possible, that they were from other countries, coming to ours, to find work. Luke then asked where they all brothers and sisters and if they had any children. And And I felt my heart breaking as I told them that they were possibly related but unlikely. And that their families were back in their own countries.

Have we become so arrogant that we believe that we would never be Migrant Workers but only Expatriates when we leave our land and gain employment in another country? In all honesty, no matter how bad our country is, we would never achieve true citizenship in another country ~ that is how the way of the world is. Hence the term, 2nd class citizens. But we have gone a step further - we downgraded them another class.

We have forgotten that they too are human beings, and should be given the same rights to earn a living - particularly when the number 1 reason they are here stems from our own community's snobbery of being too-good-to-do-menial-labour.

Women’s Aid Organisation (WAO) for Programme Consultation Meeting on the Protection of Domestic Workers Against the Threat of Forced Labour and Trafficking reported in 2003, that half of the 1.9 million are made up of undocumented migrant workers. I'm not condoning their rights to be here without legal permission granted. But I'm also not discounting their desperation of existence that forced them to accept such a way of life.

By being undocumented persons, they will have virtually no access to legal recourse when their rights are violated as they will be reluctant to let their presence be known to the authorities through reporting. Their decision in this thing we call life has rendered them as invisible and vulnerable. Do we have to add on to it by pinning the blame of every theft in the neighbourhood, every snatch-robbery in the malls or every new shanty town that comes up on them?

I have been thinking for the last five years, of wanting to leave this country and move to San Sebastian. I have to admit though, that lately... that dream has been vaporising and I think tonight, I am finally ready to say out loud that it's been cast so far from my mind, I no longer think it's gonna happen.

And that is precisely why I am alright tonight, to say that San Sebastian would be somewhere I would take Lydia and Luke, someday for a vacation. Quite possibly, I might even tell them that I had dreams of us living there. But that for the time being, until we have no one left but ourselves, our roots remain where they are - where our families are. You don't need having a 5-year old telling you innocently that it must be difficult for these individuals, to be far away from their mum and dad, to know that there is no place like home!

We would never live in a global village unless we ignore the colour, creed, religion and income statement of the person next to us. And so for once, let us not be more ignorant than a child.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

To move ... or Not

I've been thinking of shifting out of my pigeon-hole.

It's something Whites said - that I could do so much better than where I am currently. And frankly, I think I'm just tired of having to trudge a 100 metres from car to my front door. Try doing that twice in a week, in the pouring rain, when you realise that you've left your house keys in the car!

And so, I've been looking. Pinning down the location itself is one big headache and I took my folks and kids out to look at a couple - on the other side of the Valley today. Surprise! Surprise! They all actually liked it. But here's the question - can I give up my Ikano, Curve, Laundry Bar, Ikea and a hop-skip-and-run to Mont Kiara / Sri Hartamas?

Add to that, do I wanna live in another pigeon hole or am I ready to go back to a landed property? Dare I risk another run-in of a wanker, doing precisely that, less than 10 feet from my backdoor? And IF I choose a house, will the walls make me go crazy on the days and nights that I am alone in it?

It has been so long since I consciously thought about where I am gonna lay my head down each night. In the last few years since Damansara Utama - a house has been just some place I go back to.

But I've been thinking - I wanna make it more than that. It's about time I have a home, where my family are comfy bout spending time in.

I think I'll sleep on it for a bit ...

Unhappy Meal

My breakfast was screwed up when I had to return to the order counter. Twice. Needless to say, on the 2nd go, the Manager's ass got chewed. And rightly so.

It's peak service time - why isn't she out front? Why is she manning the drive-thru?

McD's - my disappointment today. A symbol of absolute service failure. I'd be ashamed to call it an American brandname. And to think, not too long ago, our banks used to study the service sequence of McD's as they moved into the error of Relationship Banking!

No wonder I have not stepped into a banking hall for yorns and prefer to do all my transactions online!

It was a very un-Happy Meal and the toy can't compensate for it.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Mullance

Someone asked me yesterday “How are things?” and I couldn’t give an honest reply. Simply because. I have to admit, my head was not all there. I blamed it on taking a tumble on a wet surface just after I got home on Monday. I blamed it on the rain, wetting the floor and the lack of space in my bedroom. I blamed it on the bruises that caused me to sleep without rest.

I can blame it on so many things, other than what I ought to blame it on.

In the day, in the night
Say it right - say it all
You either got it or you don't
You either stand or you fall

But this week is not about me. It’s about being there for a Bear who is rather lost at the moment. A Bear who, if he were the drinking type, would be opening bottles of Louis XIII and Patron tequilas (thus making his best buddy here the happiest chic on earth!) A Bear who is as sad as Winnie-the-Pooh when Christopher Robin went off to school.

I wish I knew what I could do or say to make my beary friend feel somewhat better. I would even send FuzyB out on loan, if I thought a goldie would somehow make up for the emptiness he is feeling.

When your will is broken
When it slips from your hand
When there's no time for joking
There's a hole in the plan

I cannot understand why is it that it has to be so hard. This thing we call ‘relationship.’ It really shouldn’t be if there was so much love around. Isn’t love after all a coming together of two like-minded individuals who know that they are better off as half of another, than one of a whole? And if that were the case, then wouldn’t everything else be neglible?

I am not sure if I’d rather be in my place or Bear’s ~ to know real loss or pseudo loss. True that I maybe jumping the gun just a tad bit as the reason given am very much valid. In fact, it was one that I had anticipated seeing how when you travel at the speed of light, something’s gotta give sometime soon. Yet, there is a keen sense of loss that I reckon, if weighed alongside Bear’s, it would cause us both to be licking the floor.

I can't say that I'm not lost and at fault
I can't say that I don't love the light and the dark
I can't say that I don't know that I am alive
And all of what I feel I could show you tonight

Maybe we should both go buy a dog. Maybe I should move out of my apartment tomorrow. Maybe we should take the rest of the week off and me hide under my blanket and Bear go off on a holiday to anywhere. I don’t know which of these maybes we should do … or maybe none at all.

So many things I don’t know … so many things to think about.

But I do know that I cannot go through another day of going into my office car park, forgetting that I have a season pass and taking a ticket.

I do know that I cannot consciously take a blink and realize that I am driving too closely to the curb, and it pedestrians.

I do know that I cannot walk from my car to my apartment, realizing I left my keys somewhere in between.

From my hands I could give you something that I made
From my mouth I could sing you another brick that I laid
From my body I could show you a place God knows
You should know the space is holy
Do you really want to go?

Apart from all that, there’s really nothing very much else to be said. Nothing that’s not be cautioned before. Maybe said someone is right in that I mull too much. Yet, there is something to be thought over and that would remain in my head until I decide what I want to do with it.

Oh you don't mean nothing at all to me
No you don't mean anything at all to me
But you got what it takes to set me free
Oh you could mean everything to me

Say it right
Nelly Furtado

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

1st Rights


This one's for the Bear... You get first rights!

Just say when you're breaking open the bottles in your wine chiller and I'd be there to make sure you don't dirty your couch!

Home and Away

They say that a house is a floor with 4 walls and a roof. No matter how big or small it is, it remains the same structure. A home on the otherhand, are made up not of bricks and mortar, but living hearts and hands that hold on no matter which way the wind is blowing.

I went home for the long weekend and I sure am glad I did. For little did I realise how selfish I have been the last few years by staying away without any proper reason or rhyme.

Time has passed. I have outgrown the town and the town has outgrown me. Neither of us feel much of affinity for the other, and well - it is to be expected. But I have not outgrown my family, and neither have they me.

And given the scene of the last 18 hours, I am glad that I went home and not spent my weekend in my own house, musing. At least I know that there is somewhere I belong and can always go back to.

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For whatever reasons you may have ... I never want to go down that rabbit hole again ... No more ...