Kuching

The last time I visited Kuching was in June 2003. At that time, one of my university mates, whose name I vaguely remember, except that his name started with a capital 'R', organized the trip to his hometown, Kuching. We paid about RM 800, including flight, accomodation and transportation, and visited almost every tourist spot that were opened to us. This included the Sarawak cultural village, Damai Beach, Bako National Park, University Malaysia Sarawak (UNIMAS), the library, the cat museum, fort magherita, and the jail. As for food, I distinctly remember trying the mee kolok (which tasted pretty tasteless to me at that time), Sarawak Laksa (with lots of chicken strips, like curry trying to be laksa, but didn't turn out well), some bread and some other local delicacies. It was a one-week trip and I loved it, especially the visit to the cultural village.

So, this time around, upon our return from Kota Samarahan, Amelia and I walked at the water front. I didn't realize that the haze in the East of Malaysia had become so bad until I stepped out of the air-conditioned hotel. The weather was stuffy, as if I was put into a steam bath. Drops of sweat trickled down continuously. The sun was nowhere in sight. When we did spot it, it was covered by the thick, grey smog, looking orange instead of the bright, sunny yellow it is supposed to be. It looked sick. The air was stuffy. Yet, I needed to take a stroll in the open air. I had been sitting in the office chair for far too long. And so, we walked, and walked, and walked.

Across the Kuching River, is the new, completed construction of Dewan Bandaraya Kuching Utara (DBKU). Situated on top of Bukit Siol, by the Kuching riverbank, it spots a golden domed roof, based on the design of the houses of one of the local tribes in Sarawak.

Currently, this DBKU is used for daily parliamentary meetings. In fact, at the time of our entry into this building, the Kings and Queens of the country had just convened for the annual royalty meeting (Majlis Raja-raja). In fact, just like Putrajaya, some of the ministers commute by the sampan across the river to DBKU too! It's a cheap way to save the earth, reduce fuel consumption and eco-friendly.

Along the way, we saw tiny 'sampan' (dinghys) with the Astro advertisement on its roof! Astro is one of the major satellite television provider in Malaysia. This company is so proud and well aware of the importance of its role in the lives of a typical Malaysian that recently, it launched a new advertisement that advises children who are working, to install Astro for their parents who stay far away from them, in the village. The message? "If you love your parents, install Astro for them. So, even if you have no time, we will keep them entertained." Do I think my parents will love having Astro at home then? Yes, I do. Do I support this message? Certainly not.

So, here I was, walking along the modern waterfront, with nice cemented tiles, cooling fans and aesthetic barriers, thinking how well the old way of living integrates with the new. Astro advertisement on a sampan, which is extinct in our capital. To us, they exists only in movies and historical descriptions in books. Wow. Amazing! Here is an example of how people manage to lead modernized lives and yet still maintain the traditional method of transportation.

Kuching festival

One of the highlights of my trip to Kuching was visiting the Kuching Festival. Held for 3 weeks annually, this fair attracts throngs of visitors daily. The main purpose of organizing this fair (as I later learnt) was to commemorate its 21st anniversary as a city in August. In fact, indirectly, it helps to boost the local tourism and food industry.

The moment I set foot onto the festival grounds, I could feel all the fired up energy running through my veins. On my right, I saw salesmen selling cars from Proton to Mercedez. On my left were vendors selling blouses and skirts. As I walked further down, I noticed several men and women with a mouth-piece next to their lines, talking into the cordless microphone.

"Aunty! Come! come! Come and see this wonderful kuali!" a young man in his 20's beckons the curious passers-by in Hokkien. "It conducts heat extremely fast. You don't even have to wait for 30 seconds before putting in the onions after you pour in the oil."

The young man then proceeds to pour oil into his 'wonderful' kuali and throws in the finely chopped up shallots immediately. Hissing sounds cracked escaped from the silver kuali, followed by loud 'pop' sounds.

"See! Isn't this great? With this, you can cook more meals in less time. You can even enjoy your favourite Cantonese TVB Drama in the evenings. Now, you don't have to wait one hour just for the chicken to simmer. Food get cooked faster, your children get their stomachs filled earlier, and you will enjoy longer naps too! Preserving your youthful looks!" continues the young chap.

He has such sweet , honey coated lips that almost all the species of the female gender approach his stall. Some approach him with a sceptical look, some who take his word for it and enquires its price, whereas some just want to enjoy an entertaining demonstration.

"Wow!" I thought to myself. "This certainly reminds me of my childhood in Lumut." In the 1990's, we used to have a Pesta / funfair every year. The part that I looked most forward to were the rides in the ghost house, merry-go-round, and throwing hoops at the game booth, hoping to win the cute puppets that were on display.

As we walked further on, we came across the entrance to the garden show. The air was cooler here. Smaller crowd, more water. On both sides of the lane, were ponds and waterfalls, filled with flowing water. The water makes a swishing sound and plonks down right beside me. A few drops of water sprang onto the bloor, bounces off and lands on my jeans, right below my knee. Red, green and orange neon lights shine through the pool of water beside us. This place looks so cheerful that I just can't believe that we are in the midst of being attacked by H1N1 virus right now.

"Come! Come! Let's take a picture here!" Amelia enthusiastically calls out.

Her parents and I stand next to each other, with the man-made waterfall as our background and bright lights illuminating through the darkness. Amelia happily snaps away.

Soon, we hear loud singing from the stage nearby and hurries over to the open stage. We see a 3 youngsters, dressed in skirts which are 6 inches long, stunning black blouses, dancing to the a popular Mandarin tune on stage. The team's synchronization doesn't appear to be good, but considering that they are amateurs and lack proper training, it certainly seems fine to me. They do deserve a loong round of applause. Up next, a lady in red captivates the audience with her rendition of Mandarin oldies. When she reaches the climax, she sings her song to an extremely soprano pitch and holds the note for about 1 .3 minutes. When she stops, everybody claps, some giving her cat-calls too!

When the performance is over, we took a stroll n the garden. Looking up, I saw a design of an indigineous guy holding an armour in his hands! I loved it. I don't get to see this anywhere in Peninsular Malaysia, except for Kuching. Usually, we just see bunga mawar, or hibiscus, orchids or bougainvillea. I was awfully impressed. See! One more thing I love Sarawak. It is unique, through and through. I think even if we have stayed there for 20 years, surprises will still spring up when you least expect it.

Beauty of Travelling

The beauty about travelling to another state is that we get to see things that we would never get to see had we been staying put at the same place. For instance:

Encounter with the Rozella fruit

"What's this for?" I boldly asks the Makcik who's selling Rozella.

"Oh! It's used to make air sirap and such." she says. "Belum pernah jumpe? ( Haven't you seen it before?)"

" A ah.. " I nodded a little too enthusiastically. " Belum pernah lah, 'cik. ( Not yet, aunty)" I admitted, much to her amusement.

A ripe tomato plant and an unripe tomato plant on the same tree.

K. k. I admit. This is the first time I've seen tomatoes growing on trees. In my kampung, we just have chili padi plants, oil palm, rubber trees and cocoa trees.

A Dragon fruit tree.

Dragon fruit seems to be able to be able to grow anywhere in Sarawak. See! They can even plant it at the back of their yards! What a luxury!

Papaya Tree

The first time I saw this Papaya tree fruiting bountifully, I was awed. Not only by the fact that it growing through the cracks of the drain, but also that it survived growing under these conditions throughout its life, and managed to produce bountiful fruits!

I asked the owner of the house if this was done deliberately. Apparently, it wasn't. One of the sparrows hopped past the house one day and dropped the papaya seeds just at the right spot. and the seedling grew into this big, strong tree.

The owner added that given that lots of detergent and soap powder flow into the drain, which happens to be used to water this tree, it is then no surprise that this tree is in the pink of health and manages to bear lots of fruits at the same time.

"Didn't you know?" he adds. "Detergents are good fertilizers too!"

Oh wow.. I didn't know that. To me, detergents are poisons. If you drink them, you'll kick the bucket. Why would it be any different for plants? Perhaps, plants have a stronger kidney than humans.

Ancient History, Ancient Tmes

It has been about 2 years since I walked into such a shop with ancient Chiense decoration as their theme. The last time I I walked into one, was in China, in Hangzhou.

The door to the jail in Kuching. You don't find doors like this anymore.






This is my favourite. The story of Sang Kancil and the Crocodile, written on a cement wall. It definitely encourages the reading habit among our young!

Meeting up with old friends

It has been a long time since I met my friends who hailed from Kuching. So, upon hearing that I'll be going there, I called Terry, the offshore medic whom I got acquainted with during my last 3 hitches offshore Kerteh. Unfortunately, he had to attend to his sister-in-law who was 500km away from Kuching. She had just given birth to baby who was born pre-maturedly by 2 months. The mother was healthy, but weak. The baby was still in the incubator at the time of call. Terry would only be back on Sunday night. By then, I would have been flying halfway above South China Sea, anticipating my journey back to the city of Kuala Lumpur. So, I promised to meet him next year during the Kuching Music Festival.

Next, I emailed Lesley, my senior in university. Happily, she agreed to come out to meet me. I was elated. The last I heard, Lesley was married, with 2 kids! Hence, I decided against calling her to see if I'd be able to crash in at her house for 2 nights. Instead, I spent 2 nights at Amelia's parents' residence.

Hence, on Saturday, the 8th of August, I went out with Lesley for dinner. The first thing that Lesley said was, "Sorry for keeping you waiting, Jean. I should have called earlier.. but you know, I have bad time management skills. Do you still remember you gave me a book on time management in Mandarin for my birthday last time?"

"Well, you know what? I still have bad time management skills.hahaha! " Lesley rattled off as she laughs gaily.

I struggle to remember what kind of gifts have I given Lesley for her birthday during my years in university. Unfortunately, not a single item passes through my head. I smile in disbelief. and shake my head. It has been a long time since I gave gifts. Lately, I seem to be receiving more than I give. Suddenly, I realize that my heart has gond really cold and it needs to be severely warmed up all over again.

"You forgot??? Honestly, you have no inkling at all? Oh no! How could you forget?" Lesley jokes.

Ahh... It feels really good to hear Lesley talking in person. Real concern and love resonates through her soul. I feel connected to her once again. God, how much I've missed her.

Over dinner, we catch up about our church mates in university. I learnt that some of them were married, some were single, and some already had kids! One of her course mates who used to be the tallest in our university, married a Swiss who was taller than her! I was amazed.

Then, I followed her to her weekly cell group which was holding a Praise and Worship night. We prayed for a number of things such as their upcoming church camp, trip to Mount Kinabalu, youth group, church members, etc. I listened to the leaders' testimonies on faith and philosophy on Christianity and being a living testimonial. I was humbled. It was there that I re-kindled my love for Christ and resolved to visit the church the following week.

I think in the suburbs, it is easier to feel tranquil and loving. Somehow in the city, I tend to get caught up with the busy rhythm of life, thinking only about work, nothing else but work.

I wish I had more time to socialize and learn to talk with people who are not from the same industry. Nevertheless, I find it quite hard because nobody understands our nature of work better than the people who are engaged in the same field. Therefore I end up disinterested in most conversations and tend to tune out a lot of topics in most conversations. I am ignorant about marriage, investments, sports, finance, property; things that people my age are talking about when we meet. All I know are how to produce oil, predict its production and identify problems and solutions.

I am getting more and more impatient in listening. I want to talk so much more. I want my opinions to be heard, out loud. Whenever somebody sounds unreasonable in their suggestions, I interrupt them. My colleague says it's normal in our field. Not all suggestions are logical because the others have a good understanding on the fields that we are taking care of, other than ourselves. We ought to raise our questions whenever we're in doubt.

I realize then, at this moment, I am developing my opinions, moulding my personality. I told my senior production technologist, "I think that people who study overseas are very outspoken. That's why I want to study overseas."

My senior thinks otherwise. She has been overseas, to work and to study. "Not necessarily, Jean. You can learnn to be very outspoken at work too! It takes time to be sharpened. Be patient."

"Jean!" Lesley calls me back to reality. "Let's go for supper!"

So, I follow Lesley and her church-mates out for supper at Bukit Song. I have my 2nd taste of 3-Layer tea in Sarawak and I think of Miri.

Ahhhh.... Holidays and meeting up with old friends.... I just love these magical moments.

Unforgettable Moments

At the end of the career awareness session, we played the Hangman Quiz Game. In this game, first, each group of students are given a couple of balloons to blow up, and build the tallest and most stable tower out of them. Then, the MC will flash the a quiz question on the screen.

Students are given about 30 seconds to answer. Once the time is up, the leader of the group will

jump up and flash their answers. If their answer is wrong, we, the facilitators will wear a devillish grin on our faces, cheerfuly wave our pointed, magic lidi sticks in our hands, and poke the balloon on the highest part of the tower. "Pop" goes the balloon in a second, and the deflated, broken rubber pieces fall onto the floor, crashing the hearts of 40 students.

Just between you and me, I love this part. I almost always laugh gleefully when I burst their balloons. I suppose it has something to do with the yin and yang in life. As the English proverb goes, 'you win some, you lose some'. Or maybe it has something to do with my natural personality to burst one's bubble during any conversation too. My brother has a name for it. "Kill Joy", he would say in his throaty, sing-song voice.

Oh ya. So back to my story. As we were playing this Hangman Quiz, suddenly, a guy dressed in orange pants and blue-white striped shirt walked into the hall. His head was wrapped in masking tape (or maybe stapled tissue paper) from the chin to the top of the forehead. He definitely looked like a Hangman mascot to me.

When he walked in, he approached the group of students nearest to the stage. At first, he merely observed them. Soon, he participated in their activities, standing outside the circle, shadowing their actions. "Wow! This maskot is really into his role!" I thought as I noticed this odd behaviour.

Throughout this 'phenomenal' event, I kept wondering who the maskot might be. I thought, "Hmm.. the student must be really into this game!"

Under normal circumstances, which of us would go through such great lengths as to change into a pair of new shirt and pants, willing to mummify his own head, willing to stand out and be different, and yet, maintain his energy in group encouragement? Maybe he suddenly gained a deep revelation on the meaning of playing the Hangman game and changed just to emphasize it. I bowed my head in deep thought. Few minutes later, I look up and the 'maskot' is gone!

I wonder where he went. It was only much later, that I found out that this 'maskot' was apparently a drunk student who stumbled upon this venue and decided to join in for some fun. He had probably sniffed glue or drank a bottle of local tonic brew, that blew him out of his mind. 2 of the toughest and fiercest guy in our team cautiously approached him. After all, you never know what kind of people you might encounter these days. Whatwith students shooting teachers and terrorist bombing up themselves, we live in one of the most testy times of uncertainty and doubt. Once they found out that he harboured no knife and bombs, and wasn't one of those people who ran 'amok', they literally dragged him out of the hall and made him walk home under the hot sun, if he knew where his home was.

It was then revealed that in this part of the town, many students drink, gamble and belong to one or two black triads. Bullying, extortion, getting drunk and dropping out of school is a common scene, day in, day out. Nothing new. That is why, this year, the career session was held here. To motivate the students that they can do better. They can get out of this cycle, if only they want to. To remind them that they are the ones who can bring development to their town,, see new sights and taste new sounds. "We are the ones who improve our lives and make it a life worth living." That, is part of the reason that we are here.

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After the event, I was exhilarated. In that one, single day, I had laughed a gazillion times more than I had while being cooped up in the office for 8 whole months. I was happy and feeling on top of the world. The same holds true while attending meeting with the PETROSAINS staff. Each time we meet them, laughter floats across the room like pink, fluffy cotton candy.

As you can see, this event brought smiles on many faces on that special day of 6th of August, 2009.

When I noted this fact to Farid, one of the coordinators for the event, he stated it so simply that I was startled for a moment, "Jean! It's because you are highly paid, and we're not."

Later on, I pondered upon this stark fact. Indeed, it is true. The more highly paid you are, the more stress you have. Why is this so? Well, it's because people in high positions are the ones who are called to make the toughest decisions. They are the ones who are supposed to take risks and expected to produced results with flying colours. They are the ones who can presumably assume more responsibilities and lead a battalion of rebels under them. They are the ones who are made to take up the role of negotiation, persuasion and management. In short, the more well-rounded you are, the more responsibilities you get, and the bigger, fatter pay cheque will be yours in no time.

Perhaps, that is why we see children smile more than adults. Children can smile the whole day and not know why. Adults frown from morning 'til night. When they smile, we wonder why.

My colleagues often berate me for laughing too loud, or smiling too brightly in the office. Frankly, I don't think it's a sin. But to them, it is. When I ask why, they answer, "Jean! It's just ill fitting in a professional environment such as this."

Once, I was even chided and sent a nasty sms by a senior for smiling during a presentation requesting for endorsement. I was shocked out of my wits.

Needless to say, since then, I have sobred up. Nowadays, I don't go round smiling as if it's a brand new day, and there's every reason to be happy. In fact, I just put on a poker face, lips straight, eyes staring ahead into the empty air, looking as if the rain is going to pour like crazy from the thick, grey accumulating clouds above our heads.

It is not the best solution, I see now. Yet, I guess this is one of the trademarks required from a professional. Reading the book 'How to Talk to Anyone' by Leil Lowndes, I realize the importance of the timing of a smile. If it comes too quick, it comes across as insincere. If it comes too late, it reduces your chances of being labelled as trustworthy. It has to come at the right time, just a few minutes after being into conversation, after getting to know someone. A smile then achieves its objective. It lets the receiver know that he/she has been acknowledge as a friend.

This works best when we're all working in an environment where professional ethics are required of us. Definitely, I believe, if we practise it with our coursemates, schoolmates or old friends, they will probably beat the hell out of us for feigning to be ourselves.

6th of August, 2009

On the night of 6th of August, 2009, I switched on the cable TV in the room of Kuching Riverside Majestic Hotel. I flicked from one channel to another, and finally settled on the Japanese channel. It has been a long time since I watched Japanese animes, dramas, etc. So, when I saw a Japanese documentary, featuring little girls dressed up in cute Japanese uniforms in the 1940s, with ribbons in their hair, I decided to watch it for a few minutes more than I had intended to. I had been in a melancholic mood on that day as well. Having been high on ecstasy from all the laughter early in the afternoon and evening, my nerves had calmed down tremendously. As if the laughing gas had just dissipitated across the room into thin air, and well, I was once again back to my sobre, solemn normal self.

I changed from one channel to another after that but none of them seemed as interesting as the Japanese documentary. It was a black and white film, about girls writing their daily journals as part of their school assignments, re-enacted. At first I thought the film was a happy film, since it featured cute Japanese children in their uniforms.

In one of the scenes, it talks about the feelings of a young girl who attends biology class for the first time. The teacher brings them out to the garden to catch earth worms. He then proceeds to ask them to dig into the damp earth, pull out the worms, put the red, wriggling worms on their palms and feel it with their cheeks! Of course! the girls felt so ticklish and the tingling sensations! The girl wrote, "I love biology class" after that short field-trip.

In another scene, it depicts the scene of little girls who are not older than 12 or 13 years old, learning to make their first Americanized/Western coats and skirts from scratch. They take measurements of their own waists, arms, hips and trace the shape of the coat that they want on the newspapers. They then cut the pieces of cloth according to the traced design on the newspaper. In the evenings, they sit in front of the verandah of their houses and start sewing the pieces of cloth together, stitch by stitch, with their little sisters beside them, watching silently. Once it's done, they hold it up with such pride and run into the room with their little sisters trailing behind. They put on the new coats and skirts, and stare at themselves in the mirror. Thinking what a good job they've done!

I was wondering what a sentimental movie this is when the narrator narrates, "It was a sunny day. Everything looked as if it would be a perfect day, when a bomb changed everything. In one second, the skies turned grey, black, cloudy and smoky. Fire billowed from the wooden houses. In just a matter of seconds, the wet, nicely stacked uniforms which the little girls had laid to dry on the stones turned to ashes. None were unscathed. Only a few were partially burnt, and maintained their bright blue colours."

It then dawned upon me that this documentary is about the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. Usually, the Japanese channel seldom air this kind of sad documentaries. I wondered why they chose to air it on that particular day. My queries were finally answered on the 9th of August, 2009 when an article in the New Straits Times explained about the atomic bombing in Hiroshima on the 6th of August, 2009. It was definitely a wake up call to the Japanese on that day. A day when several lives were lost and human race was reminded again of its naked vulnerability to extreme uncontrollable human violence. Harming innocent civilians to warn the guilty party.

At the end of the documentary, it shows the museum where all items owned by the civilians after the bombing are displayed. Diaries of the little girls were put on display, some with burnt pages and faded black ink; Holes in the dresses of the little girls, a void replacing certain parts of the material, which by then had already turned into ashes.

The scene of little girls running around unfolds. A bomb drops down and the little girls are not around anymore. One girl hides in the house. Another runs to the nearest cave and hides in there until the sounds of planes arriving quieten.

War ruins lives. It is a widely known fact. For the little girls, their innocence and beliefs were robbed away from them in just a minute. Nothing will ever be the same again. That day, a 12 year old girl, one of the survivors of the bombing, was forced to grow up and assume the responsibilities of her parents in taking care of her younger sibblings.

"It is hard to forget, this bombing, the effect that it had on all of us." one of the little girls in the movie, who by now was about 60-70 years old, with silver streaks of hair reflects. "The war robbed our happiness, our sense of security. It was hard to fall in love again after that. War, it sort of have that effect on you, you know. The gory scene will return to us, night after night, in our dreams, even when we're wide awake. Over time, gradually, however, we learn to forgive. We begin to learn how to gradually rekindle our love for one another all over again."

A haunting music piece on a windpipe instrument is played, and a girl waves happily to a guy across the river, signifying hope for the Japanese nation. Time heals. In every corner of the world. Hope brings us peace, joy and patience, the very elements that make this world a much better place to live in. Hope. It never dies. It just lingers in the hearts of the living, easing our pain, comforting our souls. Just like the candle in the wind, shining brightly without wavering.