Kindness or Empathy

 

It is Saturday morning Aug 15 2020. It is the period before the breaking of dawn. Three  hours later I am back at the keyboard. There is nothing much to do, Saturday is always quiet and lack color. I have been reading up on old Kuala Lumpur right back to the fifties and sixties. My memory is also failing me and I have to struggle to remember places, events and names. In the old days, when life was not so hectic, the people in general were much more polite and not in a hurry to catch up on appointments. I remember distinctly the bountiful numbers of Chinese in Malaysia. Comparatively we had very little Chinese here.

Victoria Institution was really an eye opener on the life of the elite class. Practically all the students were of the elite caliber. The school was impressive, the teachers very dedicated and hardworking. Today I do not know if the school is still around. I guess so, as the grapevine has no news on its demise.

Teachers on the whole are a forgotten lot. On very rare occasions, we hear and see of old students coming together to celebrate a former teacher for his/her dedication in helping them acquire a good education. Coming to the subject of teachers again, I remember clearly my teachers in KL who taught me so many things and were very decent and patient with me. After crossing the Sea of Java and docking at Port Kelang I was sent to meet the headmaster Mr. V Murugesu without even waiting to catch my breath. I showed Mr. Murugesu the letter from the Ministry of Education, Indonesia confirming my enrolment in Victoria Institution. It was Christmas Eve, nonetheless Mr. Murugesu kindly waited for my arrival at his office just below the bell tower. Mr. Murugesu said I would be placed in Lower Six B1, or the pure math class and he added he would walk with me to the students hostel just adjacent the school. We walked a dirt track under very shady trees and from about 60 meters from the hostel, I could hear the tune of silent night being played and the raucous voices of young hostelites.

I was introduced to the hostel master, an Indian man and also the hostel captain, a muscular young man about 20. They were very friendly and went out of their way to show around the premises which was to be my home for the next two years. The hostel captain Joe (not his real name) was Chinese about 19 and a cheerful manner about him. English was the lingua franca spoken at the hostel and was to be my language for the next two years.

English was quite difficult and I found the going tough. But my classmates spoke English as if by second nature. I tried very hard during the two years in VI, trying to beef up my command of English. Malaysians in general spoke fluent English having been taught so by their English colonial masters. All races spoke the language without difficulty. The weather in Malaysia was similar to that in Indonesia except for the fact that it is not home to a single volcano. My form teacher was a Chinese lady but I have forgotten her name. I remember Mr.Ananda Krishna who taught us Pure Math. Mr. Ananda was super cool in Math and had once taught in India. He was a short tiny man, a bit deaf in the right ear. Hence he had a earphone place in his right ear. He also had a sense of humor, the Jack Benny kind. Mr.Gan taught us applied math, a tall and burly Chinese who had graduated in mathematics from the University of Malaya. Mrs. Ee taught us chemistry while Mr.Selavaraj taught us Physics. Since Form 6 had no physical classes, often we had to attend classes by occupying the laboratory. For General Paper, a eurasian man taught us the subject.

VI had a good mix of scholars and sportsmen and performed exceedingly well in both disciplines. I believe the school's motto was second to none.

Do not do unto others...

 

Calm before the Storm

Today is the day after the storm. The storm refers to the violent eruption from Gunung Sanbowo in the island of Sumatra just north-west of Jawa. I heard on the airwaves in Kota Malang, East Jawa. We have another 145 active volcanoes to contend with. This year is the second active voice we in Indonesia have heard and felt. Altogether 147 active volcanoes that will speak but only when.....

Got up at 04:30. It was raining heavily. The outside was dark and quiet. Thinking of the past a lot. Possible friends, former colleagues and ex-schoolmates, whether they were still alive. I have tried to reconnect with the past, 50 years back in time but always I hit a dead end. What I write here is not really a blog, that is heavy stuff, what I do here is to pen my thots about myself starting from getting up from bed to before I call it a day.

Continuing from this morning, the rain has abated. Good news. Too much rain will also be hard on most folks. I started the day reminiscing about past friends and colleagues. Especially childhood friends from the early days of childhood. The group which ran about naked and barefooted. Yes, even slippers wendre a commodity that we can ill afford. It is a nice-to-have but not a must-have. Most of my group settled in Holland as we were once a colony of Holland.

The two years I spent in Kuala Lumpur did not help much in terms of language barriers but it was an eye-opener as to how low our standards were when compared with the Malaysians in general. Even today the elite of Indonesian society seek treatment from Singapore. In Singapore, we may see the best pool of medical talent but soaring and exorbitant prices have sort of barred the ordinary Indonesian from treatment in Singapore. For us we have to seek the services of a modest and humble treatment from a Kedokteran PNS (Pegawai Negeri Sipil) or a doctor from the civil service.

The sun is now arising from the eastern skyline and it is comforting the day will soon be a shining and burning hot weather which we are accustomed to. For those holding the BPJS (or Badan Penyelenggara Jaminan Sosial) can at least have access to public medical treatment.

It is almost sundown, the time to eat, wash up and then to bed. Feeling a bit under the weather while continuing the process of weaning from a potent medication. It has helped but I feel it is time for the drug to go. I will try and keep trying to locate my long lost friends over the internet. I am not very optimistic about my chances but I have got to try. I hope they are well and still around. 

Where is the sky?

Sering-sering kita tertanya-tanya antar kita sendiri, apa maksud kehidupan kita di fana yang di sebut-sebut dunia (Earth dalam bahasa Inggris) dan alam maya (Spiritual world).

The vidwo above comprise of old traditional Jawanese music. It's ancient flavor has not dissipated for centuries and the main musical instrument is of course the gamelan. It is a rather a strange and awkward theme to base one's blog under but for one cent goes, here goes nothing.

This world is obsessed with the new and fascinating toys we have been given the privilege of playing with. Even  old aunties and uncles do not remember the times they were young and a computer was only a pipe dream.

I also believe the generators of such tools and content should be given the proper acknowledgement and dues. Piracy is not cool, it is wrong morally and also wrong secular-wise. I too would like to be given free content and free this and free that but have we thought about the other guy who is plugging away the night to give us so much joy and realization of one's worth. No I don't really believe we have given much thot to these nerds and geeks. Well it is time we do or as we say, "Where is the sky then?". Even the Good Book says "A workman must be paid his wages". Companies like Google, Microsoft and Facebook have given the world so much and I strongly believe in the principle in allowing such companies enjoy the fruits of their labor.

As the old latin once said "Ora et Labora".

Tired, ill and downcast

The two video clips above are dedicated to the memory of the men who took part in fight for freedom. This one, a larger one I include as it is a syntax error.

I included two video clips of the American Civil War, I have a great interest in America, its history and legacy and most importantly the lives of the everyday American.

My peripheral neuropathy is acting up again with shooting pains in the face and legs.

Gypsies "Friends" and Thieves

This particular song has a special place in a small compartment inside my heart. I was only 16 when I first heard this song. Since then, all the members of the original group have died except for one. I am a lansia (lanjut usia) now, a ketandan, an old man who gets by each day reliving the memories of yesteryears. Somehow the musix dished out today does not interest me at all or strike a cord of vein in my body. Perhaps that is what the world calls falling into old age.

The title to this blog I suppose the three types of generic friends that passed through my life at different phases of my period in this world. Yes gypsies, friends and thieves would aptly describe the scumbags that I had to deal with.

During my formal school education in Indonesia I guess was the only time I had true friends, perhaps because of our innocence or the absence of having to earn a living so that we would not go hungry. Even in college I guess this trend continued but unfortunately I have lost the contacts of those halcyon years. Our study years could be summed up by one word and that is we were all hardup. We had very little except for the shirt on our backs. Money, most of us had none. In Sekolah Menengah Atas Malang, Negeri 1, my cohorts had just as much as me and that is one big egg O. Hence we were always hungry in school. The boys at the education ministry placed filling one's stomach at the bottom of the pecking order. As for recreation we just jumped into the nearest river that happened to be nearest.

MY shior or constellation was Aquarius which was thought to represent a peaceful and rewarding life. I believe the peramal or tukang tebak (soothsayer) who said this has to have his head checked at a sanatorium.


The song above I first heard when I was 15 years of age and have never grown tired of it. Music has a unique and special way of harnessing and bonding people of different cultures all over the world. In the morning I took out my laptop as usual around 8 am and tried to look for any traces of past schoolmates and childhood friends that may give me a clue as to where they are and what they are doing. As always after two hours of frustration I decided it was time and stop. Where on earth could they be hiding, I thought to myself, they cannot have just vaporated into thin air.

When I was in KL, I like the First Baptist Church located at high ground called Bukit Gasing. The pastor was Rev. Lloyd de Run. He was a genial man and had immaculate manners. His wife was Chinese and the adopted daughter always followed them to services. Their real daughter was a Miss Malaysia/Miss World winner and the pastor had a son who trained dogs for a living,

How time flies. I remember going to the USIS (United States Information) which was set alongside the Gombak river. Further up  from here was the famous food court known simply as benteng. Often I would walked to Pasar Road, it was no Abercrombie and Fitch but it was always bustling with activities and the prices reasonable provided you know to haggle over prices. I remembered a Malay lady who sold nasi lemak (or nasi uduk in Indonesia). It was very delicious and the prices resasonable.

Sukabumi versus Sukajadi

Above video from UTube diurik (plucked) as my preamble to script below. I used to insert snippets of song in the right column of this frame but I am going stop or reduce such efforts because it is just to plain and simple and hasn't the advantage of visuals. At the top of the block I invited those visitors to N Razak's blog and stop by and refresh yourself at my blog. I have great admiration for Najib Razak. I truly believe he was a victim of circumstances arising from the constant heckling and cackling from his fat wife who felt the country owes her a living which in her twisted mind is her God given right. As I have said my sympathies go out to the former prime minister of Malaysia and he must be given every right to tell his side of the story.

As I have mentioned countless times about my two year stay in Kuala Lumpur to complete my matriculation called the Higher School Certificate then, and during that short period I was exposed to Malaysian life in the bustling metropolis that was KL. Frankly I have forgotten the names of most of my classmates and only remember a few but I can still recall with total clarity the youthful eager faces as teenagers. I did not have any special friend except for perhaps two, i.e. Dr.Tan Beng Siang and Wong Seng Choy. Both I believe are engineers and Dr. Tan is from the famous Imperial College in London. In hindsight I remember these two gentlemen went out of their way to make me feel at home and for that kindness I am forever grateful to them. They never touched on the theme oh, we are Malaysians and you are only an Indonesian Chinese. I believe both left for England soon after completing their HSC while I left for America. My parents had the notion that the Englishmen were snobbish and tend to look down on people who spoke bad English while the Americans were more easy and friendlier. I think so too when I look back on those years fifty years ago.


For the past two years I have been trying very hard to reconnect with these two individuals but I have hit a dead end. Their names do even appear on social media neither are their names on the public domain. I tried some contacts of the old al mater but they too proved to be false leads. The Victoria Institution then was an exclusive secondary school where only high achievers in sports or academia or both were accepted by the school. This situation is no longer relevant today when the government of Malaysia introduced the New Economic Policy or NEP in short. It is tragic this policy was implemented as the playing field was levelled at the expense of meritocracy. But the shrewd politicians knew there was no other way out if they were to remain in power. It wasn't a masterly move but a move for survival and to ensure the Malay majority remained in power. 

Hence this is the title for my story here. Of course it can be said that the Malaysians got much helping hands from my country Indonesia. Indonesia gave them the blueprint and after some minor tweaks and re-engineering every thing was set to go. 

To project an image predicated on false pretences will not work and eventually the truth will be known.

Over Tropical Skies Blog saya di https://ift.tt/38sMZI1. Latar pribadi saya.

via IFTTT