Waze-ing around

I am now, an avid Waze user. Not out of sheer interest to discover new routes (I'm neither adventurous nor attracted to the idea of being a cabbie). Rather, the sinking feeling that without Waze, I will be driving around the Penang island like a hamster running around on wheels. Getting tired but not getting anywhere.

 

It was with this fantastic manmade invention that I managed to reach places. Or avoid getting lost thanks to a wrong turn or two. Though I've to say, my journey(s) will always somehow require driving through  back lane alleys, narrow housing streets and stretches of roads that seem to lead to nowhere and then, there it is. My intended destination. Just when I thought all hope is lost and the only way to go is homeward-bound.

 

Driving is no longer a chore but when one drives in Penang, it is an entirely different ballgame. I should not be surprised because I did drive around in KL and as they say it, nothing beats KL drivers (or speed demons, if we're to term them the right way) and traffic jams. However, Penang drivers have to cope with so much more. In KL, I would curse at those teenagers riding their bikes like they're the next Valentino Rossi. But how do you react when your speed is cut by old men on ancient looking motorcycles zigzagging across the road at their own sweet leisurely pace? Worst still, some of them will actually smile while doing it, leaving me with no choice but to return the smile (with clenched teeth. Doubt they'll notice the difference though). You'll also find many of the road cleaning workers leaving their cleaning tools right on the streets, instantaneously becoming a challenge for drivers to avoid them while driving.

 

I was at Gurney Drive last evening and for the first time, saw a car that stopped in the middle of the roundabout! If a KL car would inch its way to enter mainstream traffic, this young Penangite chap was comfortable enough to just flick on his signal board and waited. And wait he did, causing a backlog of road users who were unable to pass the roundabout until he moved his Kancil ass. Oddly, no one honked. It was as if that particular stretch of Gurney Drive was enveloped by this few seconds of 'Zen'. People were happy enough to wait and did not see any fuss in raising hell. My blood pressure did go up before I'm reminded that I'm not in KL. Guessing I've to act like Penangites when I'm in Penang (despite my car's registration number, reminding all and sundry that a Selangor girl is behind the wheel).

 

With Waze, better traffic conditions and learning to accept that nothing is impossible on Penang streets, I really think I'm settling down. The next goal is to hunt down the food joints!

 

On my own

Living on my own forces me to wade through unfamiliar waters.

 

What used to be the whole bulk of my monthly income (after all the dastardly deductions have been made) solely at my disposal is now compartmentalised into rental, utilities, groceries, petrol and meagre savings. Previously, I would only think of the things I can buy with my income. Now, I worry more about the mandatory expenses rather than getting that new pair of shoes. From 'pick and pay', I became a 'look and consider'. A window shopping trip nowadays will be just that, a trip on a weekend to see what's hanging in the dressing windows. Few hours later (after I've burnt enough calories from the sheer frustration of walking around like a headless chicken), I'll return to my minute home with bare hands. No more of those big, bulging paper bags for me to gleefully toss around.

 

Thanks to existing credit card bills which never seem to go down to zero, everything now also comes with a  'pretty but do I need it?' tag. While this self-restraint flies out of the window whenever I'm back in KL (I'm pretty sure they have powerful shamans casting spells over the buyers), I'm very much guarded when in Penang. So much so that I'm now more comfortable with telling the saleslady 'I'm just browsing' instead of 'Do you have it in my size?'. Perhaps my current address has some sort of influence over this change in behaviour. My two room flat is big enough for an individual occupant but I know some of my neighbours live in the same amount of space with at least 3 or 4 other people. What I call as my temporary sleeping arrangement is a cramped home to many of them, most who get along by walking, riding the public buses or relying on their trusty motorcycles.  

 

Despite my small home, I began to be more aware of how much electricity I consume or how much water I waste. Every flick of the switch or the turn of the tap is a reminder that I've to pay for what I use. Though the bills for October have not reached my doorstep (yet), I'm trying hard, very hard, to save where I can. Often than not, a single kitchen light will work for me to cook & watch television when daylight disappears. While my living room is air-conditioned (as like my bedroom), the standing fan provides more than comfortable relief. Luckily Penang seems to rain often so the heat is still bearable, even without the air-conditioner.

 

While I'm pursuing this personal challenge (to live as moderately as possible), it becomes a stinging mockery to discover that some family has been using up to RM2.3 million of people's money to fund their utilities bills! Apparently, the same mouth that states the need to cut subsidies for citizens (for strange reasons like preventing diabetes. Clearly, our intelligence is severely undermined by this grossly-misleading justification) is not tied to the same body that enjoys 2.3 million worth of free electricity, water and God knows what else. When I think about how many of us will not even see 2.3 million in this lifetime, it's preposterous to think that for a few, this amount merely covers their yearly utilities.

 

It's ironic. Thieves and robbers are put behind bars for stealing. Those who waste the citizens' money fly in private planes and sleep in gilded comfort. What's the difference between these two groups of men?    

Those that I used to know

I read in today's newspaper that a woman and her family were harassed by loan sharks thanks to non-repayment of loans taken by the husband. While I feel sorry for the unfortunate family, I know they are not the only ones to have suffered. Just as there are many flyers found stuck on traffic lights, bus stops, construction pillars, toilet cubicles (one does wonder if this is an effort to encourage reading while doing one's business) or even blatantly advertised on taxis (and if I may add, cheapens the look of our already notorious cabs), there are many more unreported stories beyond the confines of the press. For whatever reasons that have compelled the borrowers to resort to such drastic action, we are usually left incensed & outraged at the loan sharks' heartlessness.

 

Before we condemn the loan sharks to the deepest pits of Hell, think hard. The loan sharks are just doing what they do best, financial transactions between willing lender and willing borrower albeit at a higher interest rate than what is usually charged by lawful financial institutions. They are referred derogatorily as sharks but then again, they are not nuns, right? These people don't run charity shows or establish salvation armies to save desperate souls. They're simply in for a business, one that is  governed by 'give and recoup' basis and devoid of any emotional attachment.  While we dry our tears, let's also consider the following. When these borrowers signed their names above the dotted lines, they know that they're borrowing from loan sharks. They know that the interest will escalate when the loan is not settled. They know that loans must be repaid or someone will face the consequence(s).

 

So who's actually the heartless party?

To me, it's the borrower. But I know another group that is more heartless than one who borrows from a loan shark. One that borrows from a friend and refuses to pay. I should know. There have been a few people who abused our bonds of friendship and took advantage of people's generosity. Our bond has since disappeared, as fast as the words 'I'll pay you back, thanks!' left their mouths and my money left my account. They have become people that I used to know and a reason for me to blog about.

I'm trying to see these encounters as an expensive lesson. One that is best reflected in an American proverb,  "In God we trust; all others must pay cash". To me, the basis of an enduring friendship is the trust that the people I've become friends with will not let me down. They can count on me to help whenever possible and for them to be there when I need them. Instead, I discovered that trust is like a crumpled piece of paper. Once it's gone, it can never be perfect.

It's most annoying to think that one stands to lose a friend or friends from doing them a favour. From my own experiences, these 'friendly loans' are always without interest and backed by nothing but your friend's mere request for help at their critical moments. While I may have my own financial concerns to settle (mind is inevitably reminded of the dastardly credit card bills and other installments gnawing at a huge chunk of whatever peanuts I bring home), it becomes secondary when a friend comes for help. During that moment, it's always a tug-of-war between who needs my money most. Between saying no (and keep your finances in order) or yes (and keep your friendship alive). I tend to choose the latter because I thought I was being kind. On a hindsight, it's not kindness. It's sheer stupidity. For our so-called bond which I had treasured, is worthless to them. Had they considered our friendship, they would have remembered to pay. And if they can't pay in full, then they would have at least attempted to pay in installments. There's nothing wrong or shameful about that. I know I pay my own bills in installments.

Most, if not all, chose to completely forget to repay. Ambrose Bierce summed it up most beautifully, 'Forgetfulness. A gift of God bestowed upon debtors in compensation for their destitution of conscience'. I remembered a time when I myself needed that money back. So desperate was I that I sent out sms-es asking for repayment. It was not an easy thing to do, as I thought I was being a bad friend in requesting for my own money to be returned! When my friendly reminders were conveniently ignored, I then knew that what was originally a loan became a forced tithe on my part. Donation to undeserving people. But some that I used to know were not only deprived of conscience. They must have undetected Alzheimer's disease as well. One particular person even had the audacity to ask for more loans without any reference to the outstanding sum. Having been bitten once, I checked with other friends and they confirmed that they too have lent money without clue as to when they'll get it back. That was when I gave this person a call (more expenses on my part!) and said that I will not lend any more money until I'm repaid. I finally got my money back but that was the end of our friendship. No amount of Facebook add-friend invites or calls on her part will tempt me to resume our friendship.

I will not walk barefoot on shattered glass when the other person wears shoes at my expense.

P/S: I must have sounded like a female Ebenezer Scrooge but I really do treasure my friendships as much as a healthy bank account. Don't you think the same way too?





   

 

Faith

Much have been said and argued about the controversial judgment delivered recently by the Court of Appeal. Some lauded it as a stamped approval of how a certain word belongs to a particular race professing that particular religion. Some saw it as a preposterous decision that infringes the rights of a certain group of believers to call their God by a certain name. Many are just keeping quiet, perhaps having their own stand but prefer not to rock the boat further. As for me, I have never discussed this issue with anyone. What I'm stating below is just my opinion, one which I feel is my freedom to write about. It is not meant to condemn or condone what has occurred.

 

I am a Malay Muslim. The fact that I belong to this group should automatically warrant me to support the decision. Yet, I can't. For what strength is the faith to me if I'm easily disturbed when other faiths address their God(s) with the same name as I do mine? The God I believe in is also known by his 99 other virtues, each bearing a name which will more often than not, be reflected in the names of the male Muslim followers and their sons. I'm honestly flattered that other faiths have also accepted the Arabic term 'Allah' as the equal to the widely-used 'God'. Does my faith in Him become lesser when a person of another faith uses the same reference? It doesn't. The same goes to the fact that my family members call me by my personal name and friends/acquaintances call me as 'Raja'. Some friends, for varying reasons, call me just like a family member would. That act doesn't change the fact that we're still not related by blood, no matter how close we may be.

 

Certain quarters have also been very vocal that the idea of using the same name to address God by different religions may confuse the Muslim believers. That it'll lead to apostasy and downfall of the religion. While there's merit in that, the argument itself should not be the basis of denying others to call their God in whatever name they choose. And if that argument is accepted, it doesn't say much for the strength of our belief then. I may not have been a good student during my religious classes or a good practicing Muslim for that matter but I know one thing for sure. It's a whole spectrum of difference between accepting Allah and Muhammad as his Prophet on one part and God, his Son and the holy Spirit on the other. Conversions will still happen whether or not another faith calls their God as 'Allah'. People leave their religions for the simplest reasons like marriage and what they stand to gain from such conversion. I doubt they'll even consider what God's name may be as part of the picture!

 

One of the most fundamental tenets a Muslim must cling to is to believe 'qada' and 'qadar'. That everything has been planned and will happen according to God's will. Although this itself invites attractive arguments, like how far should we try before saying 'I'll leave it to God' or becoming lazy just because one thinks it's already God's will, the tenet applies to the religion itself. One may be born a Muslim but there could never be a guarantee that he or she will leave this world as one. Similarly, another may have been born as a non-believer but chooses the beacon of light that God offers and dies a Muslim. For us Muslims, we are promised heaven in the afterlife only after we've atoned for the sins committed in this world by way of different levels of punishment in Hell. Correct me if I'm wrong but surely, one cannot get this confused with another faith's promise that everyone will be resurrected in heaven's welcoming embrace thanks to God's son who died for the sins of others.

 

We may at times be ruled by emotions but let's not use that to kick reason out of the window. Faith is a personal thing, one that you choose to believe in or not. It shouldn't matter what your God is called as. Instead, it matters most that when you profess a certain religion, you believe that God is with you, however He is called.   

    

 

One man's speech is another man's entertainment

I'm still getting used to the idea that Friday has an absurdly long lunch period. Back in my old office, Friday's 1.5 hour of lunch break is possibly the greatest way to end a hectic week. My ex-colleagues and I would actually have time to eat and chat at leisure without constantly looking at our watches and fearing that we'll walk into office a minute past the deadline. And when that lunch period ends, we'll trudge back to the office with a constant mental mantra of 'TGIF!'. The remaining working hours became easier on the nerves as Saturday & Sunday roll by (and pray that clients don't have that sudden desire to meet us over the weekend!) and if we're lucky enough, discover that a public holiday falls on the dreaded Monday.

 

At my new office, that lunch period stretches to 2.5 hours. Obviously, meetings and what-nots may still be arranged during lunch periods (I think this is the perk of being a professional. One doesn't seem to need time to rest or eat. Nothing warms the fuzzies of our hearts, assuming we have one in the first place, than to work as others enjoy some time out) but for today, I actually had the freedom to enjoy those super long 2.5 hours all to myself. Yet, I found myself leaving office at 12.45 p.m. with that uncomfortable feeling that I'm playing hooky (since a normal working lunch on Mon-Thurs starts at 1 p.m.). Others have left promptly at 12.15 p.m. or earlier, considering that the Komtar lifts are very unforgiving in shutting the doors without delay. With 6 lifts plying at least 22 floors of civil servants, trying to enter the lift during peak times is the same as winning lottery. One needs to wait for a long, long, long time. Even then, one may end up disappointed.

 

With my lunch done in matter of minutes (as I've come to realize that my appetite is ravenous these days. Blame it on the overdose of Nasi Kandars), there was at least 1.5 hours at my disposal. Walked around the nearby malls for window shopping and knowing I can't buy anything at the moment, decided to head back to office. A glance at the watch showed I've 30 minutes left. Of all the days, I chose to enter via the state government's main entrance. Made my way and began to hear a man's booming voice through a loudspeaker with supporting chants. Curiosity struck and I inched myself closer to the crowd, trying to figure out the message they intended for us. That was when a colleague stopped me in my track. I was so engrossed in listening to the speaker that I completely did not see him in front of me. He asked that I enter the office via the side entrance. Through him, I got to know that this particular group would assemble themselves in front of the main entrance after every Friday prayers to condemn the Chief Minister and literally everyone who works for him. Policemen stood nearby but made no move to apprehend anyone. Interesting and scary at the same time. Judging by the crowd, I could be mistaken that there was some grand pasar malam sale going on smack in the middle of Komtar.

 

But that got me thinking. It's his right to speak up even if it means him condemning my colleagues and I. Things that he said may not be pleasing to the ears but he's entitled to spew nonsense and provide a form of twisted entertainment to those listening. I do not see any harm in that. After all, I am guilty of ranting about people and I hardly use polite forms of expressions in my remarks. The listener(s) will decide. No matter how persuasive the speaker is, it is no justification to let the brain cells remain idle without weighing the merits and cons of the arguments. To silence anyone that opposes you through curtailment of their basic freedom would naturally mean that our freedom will one day be silenced too. I wouldn't like that.

 

 

On This Island

Three things happened to me in September this year. All of which I could never imagine as even remotely possible.

One, I quit practice. This may seem to be mundane news (especially when one considers lawyers as football players, always changing clubs when the transfer window opens) but it's a big thing for me. I've never worked as anything but a litigation lawyer (those few months as a stringer with a local newspaper back when I was a pre-university student doesn't count. The satisfaction of seeing the bylines did not translate that much for my expenditures). And even when I graduated with a law degree from a local university and tempted by so many career options, I still ended up dressed in black & white for most days and going into Courts to be harassed by clients, opposing counsels and trodden by those few Judges who must have come from a part of Hell which even the Devil runs away from. Anyway, I was in my 6th year of practice, just a few months short of having the right to have pupils of my own (or as some would put it, fresh blood or latest victims doomed to stay in the same part of Hell referred to earlier!).

Two,  a consequential effect of the above naturally meant me leaving my employer firm. Again, this would sound nothing extraordinary if not for the fact that I've been with this firm from day 1 of my pupillage. In a blink of an eye, my former pupil master became my boss and having stayed with the firm for 6 years or so, I was somewhat accepted as the one that would never leave. Over the years, I saw new faces joining the firm and just as we become colleagues and friends, they leave for greener pastures. While the sea of humans moved in countless directions, I became the shoreline, moving ever so slightly depending on the waves but unrelenting in etching a line in the sand. But the sand too must have been washed away for I found myself at crossroads. A professional life that was marked by personal questions of 'Is this what I want to do for the rest of my life?' and doubts of whether I can find a better pursuit for a more balanced approach to life. In the end, I decided it was time for a change and that resolution led to me handing over to my former boss, that piece of white envelope with a solemn typed note.

Honestly, I do not know if I'm headed to greener pastures or merely finding my way to a green swamp that swallows everything in its path. Whatever the outcome, I think I'll regret it less than not taking the step at all. That step also meant me moving to the island, Penang to still do something legal-related but in a different dimension and with different perspective. I shall not elaborate more on my job (it's going to bore your ears off. Legal stuff does that to almost everybody I know). I will however, write more on my move to Penang. Coming from a girl who has stayed with her parents for 3 decades (save for the periods when I travelled or those 6 horrendous days which I'll always remember as the University's orientation week), this move was scary. For the first time, I've to do everything on my own. While I've cooked (yes, that's why the word 'miracle' was invented in the first place), washed my own clothes and cleaned my house before, everything was done with the knowledge and comfort that my parents were just steps or a shout away. Now, it becomes something totally different. If I don't cook and too lazy to drive out, it means I've to starve for the night. If I'm tired to wash my clothes, I either have to spend money to hit the laundry centre or have to wear dirty clothes. And for the first time in my life, I discovered this morning how scary it is to get locked out of your own toilet without having the spare keys! It was not a pleasant experience to rush to the toilet after the stomach decided on a grand impromptu performance and finding that the door had accidentally locked itself. Well, it was my fault (since no one was in the house except me) but at least, I've learned how to unlock the plastic foldable door. With a loose latch that easily locks the door from the inside, I've to remind myself to always ensure that the latch remains upwards before I shut the door. Either that or I've to yank and bang on the door, to be simultaneously done with a prayer that the door doesn't completely fall off!

I hope I'll love my time on this island with much to do and explore. I'm not exactly a foodie (and God knows, one just can't have too many Nasi Kandars without expanded waistlines) but I do enjoy the quaint heritage gems strewn about on this island I'm calling as home. In the meantime, I'll get the basic Hokkien phrase book, just so I don't disappoint the many Hokkien speaking locals here!