there’s still hope in this neck of the woods, or A Malaysian Tail

 

“Mama dengar bunyi dekat bawah, like someone trying to open the sliding door. balik!” i rushed home after the call from my mother late Wednesday night, worried that someone was trying to break into our home.

 

my family has lived in Shah Alam for 24 years and for the most part, life has been peaceful. we are very close to our neighbours and friendly with folks in the local shops and market. we moved to Shah Alam when there were no McDonald’s and not a single traffic light. the site of the Concorde Hotel was still a plantation and the “Blue Mosque” was under construction.

 

today, we are no longer a town but a city. and apparently, Shah Alam has the country’s largest concentration of affluent middle-class “Bumiputras”. ideally that should mean sophistication and civility. but, the recent anti-temple cow-head protest was inspired and organised by our own folk.

 

we have never before seen such incivility in Shah Alam. who are these people, really? how is it they can exist among us? how did they come to exist at all?

 

these were questions i asked myself as i drove past the Selangor State Secretariat building, after my mother’s distressed call. but my thoughts were interrupted as i turned the corner into our neighbourhood and saw a motorcycle parked by the roadside.

 

a young man was squatting in front of my neighbour’s gate. it was close to 2 a.m. and my suspicious urban mind immediately thought, “ommigod! you a*sehole burglar! kantoi! i got you now!” i pulled up right next to him and wound my window down half way. “awak buat apa tu?!” i barked at him, trying to conceal my own fear.

 

the young man took off his helmet and pointed to something in front of him. “kucing ini kena langgar …” he said in a strong Sabahan accent. i looked at the cat and to my horror it was Orange Boy Cat, the stray that visits us regularly to eat our cats’ food. his face was badly injured and he was breathing very fast. clearly he was in severe pain.

 

someone had hit the cat and left it lying in the middle of the road. the young man was riding home on his motorcycle when he saw the cat lying there. he had rescued the cat from further misfortune by placing him by the roadside. my first instinct was to call my vet friend, Kavita, for advice.

 

i then left the young man, Daryl, and the cat for a few minutes while i went home to check on the house to make sure everything was okay, and got a small cage for the cat to rest in safely. i thought to myself, “Almighty, cucurilah rahmat on Daryl for his compassion! and bagilah balasan yang setimpal padahnya to the cruel monster who ran over the cat and sped away!”

 

there really was nothing Daryl could do at that hour except sit there to accompany the poor animal. it was so heartening to see such compassion for a helpless creature of God, and just 600 metres away from the State Secretariat building where the group of callous bigots paraded with a cow’s head earlier this Ramadhan.

 

Daryl volunteered to nurse the cat at his flat where he lived with his brother, Kenny. the next day, the 3 of us took our whiskered friend to see the vet.

 

today, a week after the accident and on Malaysia Day, i am pleased to report that Orange Boy Cat is recovering well at the clinic. his jaw is broken and his leg is slightly screwed up, but he will be okay. soon he will be moving in with his new Sabahan family, Daryl and Kenny.

 

there are still decent people living in Shah Alam after all. thank you boys for giving us hope.

 

 

Глава Два: они

 

a lovely place, the Azeri. i knew the moment i stepped into my flat a story was about to unfold. i made myself a cup of tea and slowly began unloading my things. i knew i was going to be around for a while, because that’s usually how long it takes to start writing.

 

the flat was empty, bar the small writing table and chair by the window. that was all i could afford. i remember unloading my typewriter onto the table when a woman suddenly burst out of the door across the narrow alley from my flat. she looked curiously happy despite the soggy October morning. i was still, but my eyes followed her as she hurried by my window. i saw her slip a corduroy Tonic Lando onto her head and then disappeared from my view.

 

i smiled … she’s not from around here, i thought. it wasn’t very cold. she was just as much a stranger to this place as i was. but she looked really happy, so i quickly opened my window and listened closely just in case i could hear her thoughts. nothing.

 

instead, i heard jazz …

 

i lowered myself and strained to look up to where the music was coming from. right at the top floor of the building directly across from mine, 2 floors up from the door where the woman appeared earlier, large windows opened to a balcony. there it was … the slow, soft, supine brushing rhythm; the soothing, seductive, sad voice of a woman. i knew the song, it reminded me of someone. i smiled to myself and quietly sang along.

 

“… to see you through, till you’re everything you want to be … it can’t be true,

but this time the dream’s on me …”

 

nostalgia rushed through every inch of my body. i lowered myself again and looked up through the railing of the balcony, tilting my head further. what is that place ~ a flat? a studio? an office? i saw 2 walls. perhaps 2 rooms? a brick wall, saddle brown. the other one, painted tan and somewhat textured. the walls looked clean and kept, unlike the moldy exterior of the building. there was a painting on the brick wall: a Jegadeva!

 

i moved my body further to the right of my window to get a better view, but i couldn’t quite see the whole painting. i knew what it was though: the Fat Jentayu Lost in Geelong. i’ve seen it before. what was it doing here? how did it get to a place so far away from where it was created? i didn’t think i’d see it again, and certainly not in the Azeri.

 

i sat down on my chair and thought, how very extraordinary. unbelievable, in fact. the sun was just rising and the day was already so fascinating. a Jegadeva, here! 

 

“Whippet, no!” i suddenly heard a voice call through the window. i looked up to the balcony across, but there was nothing. so i picked up my cigar box, lit one up and surveyed the dark wooden flooring in my flat. gorgeous, i thought. and then i heard Merchant. Jesus, i thought, who lives up there? i wondered if they had the same aged flooring …

 

“… i’ll keep waiting and someday, darling … you’ll come to me when you want to settle down …

one fine day we’ll meet once more and then you’ll want the love you threw away before …”

 

i sat down at the table again and went through my rent agreement. the music had stopped, but i didn’t realize it. the windows on the balcony across were shut. i was looking at the door right across the alley when it suddenly opened and a dog dashed out excitedly and bounced around outside my window. a Whippet! i laughed quietly to myself … the Whippet’s name is Whippet! a woman then appeared and looked somewhat confused with the mechanics of the door. a foreigner. American? then again, maybe not. the dog wasn’t hers, that was obvious. but it trusted her. and perhaps even liked her, never walking too far ahead from her.

 

i spent the afternoon having lunch at home. i had brought my electric flask. what a great invention, although there’s something inherently lonely about electric flasks. i decided to walk around the neighborhood a bit that afternoon to get to know my neighbors better. but they weren’t around. it was relatively quiet and the people i saw didn’t look like they lived in the area. so i decided to venture a little further out.

 

i walked down a street where they sold a lot of bread. it smelled of love and family. it was nice. there was an old woman across the street, sitting in front of a store. she looked at home on an elaborate high-back wooden chair with a shawl over her shoulders, smoking a long pipe. time froze and i took mental pictures of her; long shots, black-and-whites, mug shots … i must’ve stood there for eternity just absorbing her. she was powerful.

 

the next thing i knew, a rusty Moskvitch zoomed in front of me, almost running over my feet. i snapped and turned to look at the automobile. it was so perfect, the whole experience. i felt like an unappreciated subject of the Soviet Union and someone had tried to kill me. how romantic. the automobile looked packed from the back. a sage lamp shade occupied almost half of the back screen and there were fresh flowers … and the Whippet! ha! what a small world, i thought, we meet again …

 

i arrived back at my empty flat late that evening, not remembering where i had been all day. but i saw a lot and had mental pictures to prove it. how very awkward this time of day, neither light nor dark. i made myself some porridge and sat by the window, watching my neighbors return from their daily lives. they look decent. small families. a few children ran pass me, bouncing a ball to each other. it made me happy and my flat warm.

 

i chomped another spoon of porridge and looked up from my bowl. it was them again! the 2 foreigners, with the Whippet obediently beside the one with the hat. another family, i thought. my windows were shut and i had only the complete view of their backs. a story was being told, i could tell. it must have been an interesting day. the door opened quite easily this time, perhaps by a seasoned hand. one by one, they disappeared into their building. the dog … the one with flowers and a lamp shade … the one with the hat. home.

 

within moments lights came up right at the top floor of the building directly across from mine, 2 floors up from the door where the family disappeared. ah, the balcony belongs to them. and also the Jegadeva.

 

like magic i sudenly heard the sound of a trumpet. for God’s sakes, i’m in heaven, i thought. there was a musician in my building! i didn’t know the song, but it suited my day. an unbelievable day. i took time with my tea and later sat myself on the little steps just outside my front door. there’s nothing like a nice moment with a cigar in your hand.

 

i stayed on the steps well into the night and saw lights turned off, one flat after another. the trumpeter finally gave up on me, and almost as though on cue music suddenly came out from the flat across. i knew the song. it’s a sad one. i looked up and saw the Whippet on the balcony, staring into what i suspect was a night view of the sea. there’s something very Stoic about this dog when it’s alone. behind it i noticed a single glass door slightly ajar, and a view of the brick wall inside. music oozed out into the alley. i’ve given up trying to imagine the inside of that flat. it will forever be a mystery to me, and i loved it.

 

the alley was quiet, except for the calming music coming out of the flat. i whispered in my head, “Whippet!”. the dog looked down at me curiously for a moment, and then rested its head at the edge of the balcony. it continued to look at me, approvingly. we became friends that night. the telephone suddenly rang inside the flat, but the dog only bothered to move its ears … looking at me still, welcoming. the phone rang again and again … and again. no answer. when it finally stopped, Whippet closed its eyes and i closed mine. so peaceful. so much love. the day closed on me. an extraordinary, unbelievable, fascinating day.

 

i’ll write about them, the foreigners. and their dog, Whippet.

 

“… lovely, never ever change … keep that breathless charm, won’t you please arrange it?

… cause i love you … just the way you look tonight …”

 

Nana’s upright piano

 

… the little girl walked right up her grandparents’ walkway and knocked at the front door.

 

“Baba! it’s me!” she called, but noone answered. “Baba …! Nana …?”

 

“perhaps they’re not home. but it’s Wednesday, and i come every Wednesday. surely they should expect me …” she mumbled to herself.

 

worried, she walked to the side of the house and peered through the window. the television was on, but on mute, and the cat was … licking something on the ~ “ommigod, Baba!” she screamed and took a few steps back before doing a triple-cartwheel somersault crash through the glass window.

 

she dusted the broken glass off her body and ran to her grandfather who was sitting on a rocking chair.

 

“hi there, my little one,” he greeted her weakly.

 

“Baba, you’re bleeding! there’s so much blood on the floor and Spotty’s drinking it!”

 

“stupid terrorist cat. murtad excuse of an animal. hisss! spit! piss! oh … don’t be alarmed, sweetheart. maybe she’s just thirsty. let her be … let her be. just let her be.”

 

the little girl was confused and looked at her grandfather for explanation when she suddenly realized something was terribly wrong.

 

“ommigod, what happened to your left eyeball?! i can see the insides of your eye socket and it’s totally vile!” she yelped.

 

“yes … it popped out. it should be somewhere on the floor. just look for a round bloody jell-o, that should be it. i suspect it should have some fibrous material on it. my vessels …” he replied, somber.

 

“eeek! Spotty’s eating it!”

 

“let her be, sweetheart. life’s like that …”

 

“where’s Nana?! does she know? you need to go to the hospital!”

 

her grandfather gave a big sigh and then explained his wife had left him. she found out that morning he had been stealing her money and spending it on his secret teenage wife in the form of the next door neighbour’s daughter.

 

they got into a heated argument and she threatened to leave him. he admitted to his granddaughter he was willing to let his wife go, with the condition she should first make him a fresh cup of coffee ~ black, less sugar.

 

“she stormed into the kitchen and then came out barging at me with a stone pestle. ala, you know … batu lesung. she managed to hit me somehow and the next thing i knew, my eye popped out of my head,” he explained.

 

the little girl was staring at her grandfather blankly, trying to absorb and digest the story he was telling her. meanwhile, he kept on bleeding.

 

“i didn’t know what else to do. she just walked out on me. with her purse! i’ve been sitting here since. i’m bleeding … and i think i only have 3 oxygens left. i may be dying, sweetheart. would you make me a cup of coffee?”

 

the little girl then blinked, took a deep breath and reached out for her grandfather’s pipe on the table. with a stylish sense of finesse, she lit it and slowly toured around the room. there was glass everywhere from the broken window. Spotty was done with the eyeball and is cleaning herself. soon the cat will jump onto her grandfather and cuddle up to sleep.

 

she took another puff from the pipe and handed it to her grandfather. she then kissed him on his forehead and walked over to the piano. she hopped onto the seat and started to play her grandmother’s upright Weinbach.

 

her grandfather sank into his chair and closed his right eye.

 

Love needs no pedigree

 

As published in New Straits Times

 

When they’re small, furry and cuddly, we love them. But when they’re grown up and not as playful as they used to be, we don’t want them anymore. Sadly, that’s the unfortunate fate many of our pets suffer – neglect.

 

We are seeing more homeless animals on our streets. This increasing number of stray animals is due to our irresponsibility as pet owners, and also our society’s lack of compassion for animals.

 

However, some pet owners who can’t manage anymore will give their pets up to animal centres and pounds. Perhaps, these pet owners would feel less guilty sending their pets to animal shelters because they believe that the animals will be fed and cared for until someone comes to adopt them.

 

Sadly, this is not always the case.

 

According to Jeanette Low from the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA) of Selangor, about 1,000 mixed-breed cats and dogs are brought into SPCA every month.

 

However, the average adoption rate is only between 200 and 300 animals. When centres like SPCA are overpopulated, the only way to keep things in order is to put some of the animals to sleep.

 

Most of the animals flooding SPCA are dogs, but that doesn’t mean there are less homeless cats out there. Unlike dogs, homeless cats are left to wander and risk ending up maimed or dead from accidents.

 

Taking note of this problem is the Body Shop, a cosmetic company against animal testing. They have been supporting Animal Rights for more than 25 years. The company believes that society must take an active role in protecting animals from harm, abuse and exploitation be it in the lab, farm or even at home.

 

In conjunction with World Animal Day on Oct 4, The Body Shop teamed up with Selangor’s SPCA and launched their “Love Needs No Pedigree” campaign to educate the public on what they can do to prevent animal cruelty.

 

For four weeks, from Sept 17 to Oct 14, the campaign highlights the plight of homeless animals and the urgent need for more responsible ownership in Malaysia. The campaign urges those who are ready and seeking a pet to consider adopting from an animal shelter because adopting saves lives.

 

During this campaign, Malaysians can take a proactive step in helping to spread the word by sending a campaign postcard to a friend or relative, purchasing a car sticker or picking up a set of leaflets.

 

These items are available at The Body Shop outlets nationwide. The postcards are free, whilst the car stickers are going at RM3 a piece to raise funds for the SPCA. The leaflets give us information on pet neutering and how it can help reduce the number of stray animals in our neighbourhood. For example, the leaflets tell us that a cat owner may have chosen not to neuter his/her cat without realizing the long term effects. Starting from two cats, one may end up with as many as 20,000 kittens in a matter of seven years. In addition, the leaflets also include the Islamic standpoint in aimal neutering. Pet owners and potential pet owners should get hold of these leaflets for more information.

 

“Love Needs No Pedigree” is the second collaboration between SPCA Selangor and The Body Shop since 1996 when they campaigned against animal testing in cosmetics and skincare products. This time around, they hope to put a stop to cruelty towards domestic animals and to prompt Malaysians to search their conscience and take a step towards compassion.

 

So, let us do our bit for our animals and make this campaign work.