Friends

Listening to Corrinne May's "Birthday Song" on my way home today, my mind flashed back to the many people, friends and family in my life whom I am grateful for.

From the primary school to secondary school, I was reminded of the very few family who stood by me when everyone else doubted that I would succeed academicly. God on the other hand had other plans for me and these people were the God sent, helping me through it all.

In college / university, there were so many friends, great friends, who helped me overcome my "shell" of shyness and to learn to think critically. It was at this stage that I had learnt so much which proved to be the foundation for me to cope in the "real world". Some believers and some non believers.

As I started my career, yet again, there were friends from church and those not from church who made a big impact to me as I begun my career and as I went through some of the toughest challenge in my life. Some of these are from my home state and were like elder brothers to me.

I am truly truly blessed for great friends and a great sibling. Look forward to sending the following song to them when I greet them this year:

-------------------------------------------------------------------
Birthday Song

Don't worry about that extra line
That's creeping up upon your face
It's just a part of nature's way
To say you've grown a little more
Trees have rings and thicker branches
Kids shoes get a little tighter
Every year we're getting closer to who we're gonna be
It's time to celebrate the story of how you've come to be

Happy birthday my friend
Here's to all the years we've shared together
All the fun we've had
You're such a blessing
Such a joy in my life
May the good Lord bless you
And may all your dreams come true

So light a candle on your cake
For every smile you've helped create
For every heart and every soul
You've known to grow a little more
A few more pounds, a little more grey
Don't count the years just count the way
It takes a little time to go from water into wine
Don't ever lose the wonder of the child within your eyes

Happy birthday my friend
Here's to all the years we've shared together
All the fun we've had
It's such a blessing
Such a joy in my life
May the good Lord bless you
And may all your dreams come true

Jesus Hold Me Now - Casting Crow

Living on my own, thinking for myself
Castles in the sand, temporary wealth
Now the walls are falling down
Now the storms are closing in
And here I am again

Jesus, hold me now
I need to feel You in this place
To know You're by my side
And hear Your voice tonight

Jesus, hold me now
I long for Your embrace
I'm beat and broken down
I can't find my way out
Jesus, hold me now

Curse this morning sun
Drags me into one more day
Of reaping what I've sown
Living with my shame

Welcome to my world
And the life that I have made
One day you're a prince
And the next day you're a slave

Lord, I just looked up today
And realized how far away I am
From where You are
I don't know what else to pray
Broken at Your feet I lay
The life I've torn apart

Jesus, hold me now
Jesus, hold me now
Jesus, hold me now
Jesus, hold me now

Misunderstood

"To be great is to be misunderstood" - Ralph Waldo Emerson.

It's been a couple of days of distrupted sleep and rest not solely / mainly because of the death of a loved one's kin, although I emphatise and share in the sadness of the loved one, rather it is the pain of hearing from another party of how I am perceived / seen as someone who "looks outward and does not look inwards". I am not sure if such phrase exist but it basically refers to one who sides outsiders (non-family members) to immediate family members. What I heard was that I was seen as one who did not mourn as much during my grandmother's passing about 3 years and 3 months ago.

It saddens me because 3 years and 3 months ago, I remember how much it hurt that I couldn't speak much upon hearing the passing of my beloved grandmother. I cried buckets of tears and spent many sleepless night reminiscing the support, love and care she had for me, my family throughout the difficult periods of my growing years. She was constantly there despite the many "backlash" she received from her very own flesh and blood. Called names which any mother would have been extremely hurt, yet she continued to care for us. I remember even after the funeral, I had for 2 weeks missed her deeply that I posted her picture on my FB profile picture to remember her. This brings to mind what she had told me the February of 2008, 6 months before my wedding. She said in Hokkien "Keong, I fear that I may not be able to be there for your wedding". When "old people" say such things, it is best to take heed. I felt faint and weak in the knees. I would love my 96 year old grandmother to be there for my wedding, to bless my wedding. I said told her to pray that the Lord grants her strength to live to see me get married and to see us have children and live past 100. She said ok. She indeed lived to see me get married but passed away peacefully 1.5 months after that.

How could one anyone, especially someone dear to me, say that I did not mourn for my grandmother when all the above was going through my mind? Couple of thoughts crept through my mind:
1.) Was the information I heard of such remarks made about me accurate?
2.) What have I done to give across the perception that I was "mourning" more than my grandmother's passing? Was it the disapproving behaviour of comments made by the one close to me?
3.) Is the one close to me jealous/resentful (of matters from wedding, first house etc I shall not elaborate further)?

To be honest, I have no answers to these questions except follow-up questions after follow-up questions. So much so that it is affecting my sleep patterns and attitude.

Thank God my loved one decided to go to a Christian bookstore to hunt for Christian memorabilia for the home decor.

I picked up a book by Charles Swindoll, "Getting Through The Tough Stuff". As I went through the content page, Chapter 2 caught my eyes, "Getting Through the Tough Stuff of Misunderstanding".

That chapter of the book started off by painting a picture of what it means to be misunderstood through different scenarios in life, none of which were mine. However, it was reading through the next few pages which struck me most.

I was not alone in this ordeal. There were characters in the bible that Charles had taken as examples who endured the same, in fact much worst that I, fate of being misunderstood. He talks of Joseph , David and Jesus himself.

I shall give my summary of my understanding of the Chapter someother time when I have think through it thoroughly. Suffice to say, I was most touched reading the life of Jesus and how he was the one who was most misunderstood. The four blows of misunderstanding were:

1.) His intentions/actions was misunderstood by the Pharisees, religious leaders of Israel (Mark 3:1-4).

2.) His passion, misunderstood to be insanity by his very own people (Mark 3:20-21).

3.) His power, misunderstood as demonic by the scribes (Mark 3:22).

4.) He was misunderstood by His immediate family (Mark 3:31-35).

For me, the fourth blow was the one that I identified the most as it is, to some extent, what I am going through now and it is indeed comforting to know that He knows how I feel. According to Charles after careful study, the family members Mark mentions called for Him because they believed Jesus was demented and they wanted to spare Him shame and protect him from further public ridicule. He referenced to A.T. Robertson's writing of the family being a "pathetic picture of the mother and brother standing on the outside of the house, thinking that Jesus inside is beside himself and wanting to take him home".

What truly inspired me was how Jesus responded. He didn't go out and rebuke his mother and family members. Rather, He kept on doing what He was doing, leaving them to figure things out for themselves. His higher priority was with those around Him to hear what He had to teach and bring to them.

I must admit that I had on occassion, not been very gentle in the way I speak to my offenders especially relating to parents. According to Charles, I need to consider the relationship as sacred ground even if I'm right as it is never easy to be a parent until I've become one.

Moving forward, I'll need to pray for wisdom from God to learn to see from the eyes of the one who misunderstands and pray that He reveals why the misunderstading occurred and what have I done / could have done to better the situation and the lessons learned.

One thing stands out from this chapter especially on how to get through the misunderstandings. It is the focus on self. Learning to see the problem by putting ourselves in other people's shoes, by assessing why the misunderstanding arose by reflecting on what were our actions advertently / inadvertently that could have caused the misunderstanding especially if it is on the same point. Also, reflecting on what can be learnt from the lessons and how it could be handled in a more mature manner (I would rather call it Christ -like).

Too often, people focus on handling misunderstanding by focusing on what others people did or what other people should do when Christ teaches us to focus inwards and change ourselves to be more Christ-like.

Next steps would be to focus on two key things: forgiveness and letting go. Without which, would breed bitterness.

"To be greater is to forgive the one who misunderstood" - Charles Swindoll.

Another year is dawning

Another year is dawning; Dear Father, let it be

In working or in waiting, another year with Thee

Another year of progress, another year of praise

Another year of proving Thy presence all the days

- Frances Ridley Havergal

It was a sad sad day today. The world today lost a visionary, an innovator, a legend in his own right and an inspiration. The world lost Steve Jobs.

Steve Job reminds me of a saying that I hold dearly:
"Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." - Confucious / Ralph Waldo Emerson

I remember reading his biography awhile back when he went through what he called the "wilderness" when board of Apple restructured and he was not included as part of the new organisation in 1985 after much drama behind the scene. It was the darkest moment of his life. However, it was arguably these experiences that brought out the greatness in him upon his return to Apple. I recall also reading that there are not many successful comeback CEOs, Steve Job was different. He was instrumental in developing the technology we are using today that will definitely impact the future of technology and the way we live our lives.

I would like to pay tribute to a man who reminds me to stay hungry, stay foolish. To love the work I do. Steve Jobs, your legacy will last for many generations to come and we salute you.

With that I leave Steve's Stanford Commencement speech that I have kept since 2008.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Steve Jobs' Commencement Speech at Stanford
14 June 2005

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it's likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope it's the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much.

907 Tribute #12: Why I care — Tiffany Oon

Why should I even care? I have everything I need and want. Why should I care? Why bother? Why put myself in danger? Oh, I asked myself those questions a thousand times before that fateful day.

I knew the answer. Besides the eight objectives of Bersih which seemed perfectly legitimate and noble to me, I was angry. I was angry with the police who have literally become our very own fashion police. I was angry that the government thought that they could get away with blatant lies.

I was angry that despite coming from a national school and having good friends from different races, I saw the government seemed bent on creating racial and religious divides that, in reality, were not true. Most of all, I was angry with the injustice that is rampant in the land.

A girl can hardly walk around town in broad daylight without constantly looking over her shoulder for fear of being robbed and hurt by snatch thieves or have acid splashed all over her body while an innocent person wearing a yellow T-shirt is arrested?

I was angry and scared and totally fed up.

So I walked.

The day before the rally, a few friends asked me if I was afraid. Though I would have liked to say I am fearless, I am not. I was afraid of what would happen the next day.

What if I die? What if the police fired “live” bullets and it becomes a repeat of the Tiananmen Square massacre? What if there’s bloodshed? What if I get expelled from university? What if they just kick me out? What if it becomes a full-blown riot? What if I get hurt in all the commotion? What if no one shows up and I am the only one? What if nobody else cares? What if people are too afraid to take a stand? What if I get arrested? I am old enough to be tried in court as an adult but not old enough to vote! Even if I turn 21 and register before the next general election, my name might not even be in the system by then. What if, what if, what if...

In the midst of the million and one questions swirling in my head, I remembered two things. The first was a quote from Martin Niemoller, a German pastor who opposed Adolf Hitler during the Holocaust:

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a communist;

Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a socialist;

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a trade unionist;

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out — because I was not a Jew;

Then they came for me — and there was no one left to speak out for me.

Evil triumphs when good men do nothing. If I do not speak and take a stand against injustice now, all the corruption will continue.

The second thing I was reminded of was a Bible verse in the book of Esther 4:14: “For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

Who knows if I have been created for such a time as this? It was the time to actually stand together and do something instead of sitting at home and complaining.

When I first told my parents that I was going to walk, I was met with a resounding, “NO!” from my father. After much pleading and persuasion through my mother and aunt, he finally relented. Never once did I regret walking.

I need not have worried so much either. The atmosphere was carnival-like, happy. People were smiling, laughing, taking pictures, holding balloons and giving out flowers. In fact, shopping in a big sale is more violent and rougher than the Bersih demonstration.

The horrible tear gas, the water cannons and the violence by the police made me even more determined to march on. How wrong it was that the police, the very same people who were supposed to protect me, were the ones coming after me.

But the solidarity and the courage of the rakyat to stand for truth and justice, it gave me hope. It gave me hope that people from all walks of life, every creed and colour, tall and short, young and old, put aside their differences and helped one another continue on throughout the day. It gave me hope that I am not alone. It gave me hope that stereotypes, prejudices, presumptions and prejudgments were dropped. It gave me hope that Malaysia truly had a future.

It gave me hope that there was LOVE.

Love for Malaysia, family, friends and fellow Malaysians. Love that knows no boundaries.

Never before had I sung the national anthem, “Negaraku”, with such pride and never before did the lyrics ring so true. Never before did the Rukun Negara mean so much.

Sure my whole body ached the next day after so much running and climbing walls and gates like a clumsy monkey but it was worth it.

Heroes and heroines? Hardly. Just doing the right thing.

907 Tribute #11: Now it’s your turn — RZ

On July 9, I did something for my country. I walked with my neighbours, my friends, and fellow strangers. Different and segmented as our personal lives may be, but in cause, there is no doubt in my mind, that we are one.

There were eight different demands of Bersih, but to me, there is essentially one and it’s the only reason I came out on the streets. It is so that we can be heard and counted. It is so that, when election arrives, each vote will matter.

As I shouted “Hidup Rakyat,” I felt a sense of belonging amongst the strangers around me. I looked around and, I realised, that skin colour doesn’t matter. As I looked into their eyes, I saw the same anger — the anger that comes not from hatred, but from crying foul. The anger came from injustice done to us, from the squandering of trust that the rakyat had given those in power.

At that moment, I also saw hope. I saw an old Chinese couple hoping for a better Malaysia for their grandchildren, a middle-aged Indian woman crying for her future, and then I saw me, doing the least I can do for my country, for everyone. I thought to myself. If this is not 1 Malaysia, then what is?

We held hands, and we marched. My fear depleted and we became stronger. Our fear became our strength, because together, those bullies don’t stand a chance. I knew at that moment, if all else fails, I could rely on us — the rakyat. Because the rakyat are decent, whose dream is only to see our futures are chartered right, and our country prosper.

To those against us, it’s okay. This is democracy and you have your right as I do mine. I may not agree with your beliefs and your stand against my cause, but I will defend your right to say your cause and your beliefs. Let’s not intimidate each other and let’s not be unjust. Because at the end of the day, it’s how just you are that will define you.

On July 9, 2011, I did something for my country. Now it’s your turn. Register as a voter and vote. Vote for whomever you feel is worthy of your trust for your future and the future of your next generation, and vote for your country. Come back home, if you’re away, and cast your ballot, and get your neighbours, your friends and strangers around you to register and vote.

Let’s make the country right.

Hidup Rakyat.

907 Tribute #10: Home is where the heart is — Chin Boon Hoe

“Finishing my final SPM paper, I was excited about what lies ahead. I have the opportunity to further my studies abroad. In the midst of the excitement, I feel a sense of sadness within me. My feeling of homesickness kicks in, even before I board the plane for New York City. The yearning for my friends and family, great food, fun places and the spirit of togetherness during sporting events kept my heart heavy as I marched on for a better future”.


It has been almost a decade since I boarded the plane from KLIA to JFK. Whenever I look back at the pilgrimage, I always ask myself “Did I really start a new life, or did I put my ‘REAL’ life on pause and I am waiting for the right moment to restart what I have known and grown up to”. The answer has not always been clear to me up until July 9, and I realised that it has always been the latter. As our brethrens and sisters marched on in Kuala Lumpur, bracing the acid-laced water and tear gas, I did the same, albeit in a much calmer fashion, in New York City. Bersih 2.0 has not only united Malaysians, regardless of creed or religion, but also has awaken the fighting spirit of Malaysians, a people who have sometimes been labelled as having a carefree (tidak apa) attitude. People are dissatisfied and enraged at the injustice and the lack of accountability of what the current government and its administrations have shown for the past half a century. Their greed for power has infested their body and mind and it is the same greed that is rotting their soul, blinding them and causing them to ignore the plights of the rakyat.

I am very grateful that I have the opportunity to study and work abroad but I have always felt that I am a “penumpang” (squatter) in the United States. Not that anyone here has or would label me as such but I don’t feel that I truly belong here despite the American accent that I have developed and the many hamburgers that I have eaten because of a void in my heart. I might seem ungrateful for a country that has offered me vast opportunities but as the saying goes “Home is where the heart is” and my heart always longs for Malaysia. People whom I have expressed the sentiment of “going back to Malaysia one day” would call me foolish and ask me the logic behind my feeling. My usual answer to them is: “Because I love my country and Malaysia is and will always be my country”.

I remember my younger days when the minds of my friends and I were pure and naïve, and we were just kids playing hide and seek, football (or soccer as the Americans would call it), police and thieves (maybe one day our kids will play police and Bersih marchers?) and “guli” during recess or after the school bell rang, signalling the end of the school day. I played and laughed with my Malay, Indian friends and of course my “Lain-lain” friends. Back then, the race labels in the report cards didn’t mean much to us, nor should it mean anything in today’s world. We saw each other as Malaysians and each and everyone interacted harmoniously together. Only when I am in New York did I realise the ugly side of Malaysian politics where races are pitted against each other — stereotypes (which by the way do exist and are pretty humorous sometimes — no offence) manipulated to the advantage of some irresponsible politicians and people are constantly reminded that they are different and should not mingle closely because of “ulterior motives”. (I always rebuff people who said, we are different by saying “Yes, we may differ in character and in thinking but if you and I suffer a cut, do we not bleed red?”).
When Bapa Kemerdekaan Tunku Abdul Rahman led the crowd to the famous roar of “Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka” on August 31, 1957, he, Tun Tan Cheng Lock and Tun V.T. Sambanthan envisioned a Malaysia (Malaya) that is built upon a foundation of trust and mutual friendships among the different races.

When I was 15, I wanted to buy a pair of sandals but I couldn’t afford them. I was looking at the shoes outside the store for a while and my best friend, Akmal Hisham, whom I have known since Primary One, noticed my behaviour. He came over and asked me if I liked the shoes to which I replied yes. The next thing I know, he took some money out from his wallet and say this to me “Boon, Kamu ambil duit ini, belilah kasut itu. Bayar, tak bayar jangan bimbang, OK?” (Boon, take this money and buy those shoes. Don’t worry about paying back, OK?). His act of kindness forever changed my life and it shows that many if not most Malaysians are colour blind. Looking back, I was never the “budak Cina yang miskin” (the poor Chinese kid) and he never thought “Eh, patut kah saya tolong budak Cina ni?” (Should I help this Chinese kid). He genuinely saw me as a friend and in today’s context, a fellow Malaysian. I still keep in touch with him. Parents should encourage their kids to play and interact harmoniously with one another. We should refrain from talking about people’s shortcoming due to race but instead attribute the shortcomings due to human imperfection and ignorance.

Bersih 2.0 has confirmed my conviction that Malaysia can and will be a better place for us and our future generations. The day when I will achieve the dream of “going back to Malaysia one day” does not seem so far away. Change may and should come slowly but I am hopeful that it is better late than never.
Looking at our neighbour, I believe that Malaysia can achieve similar changes that occurred to Indonesia in 1998 if we, the rakyat, do our part. While many might say that it is the responsibily of politicians to change the country, Bersih 2.0 has proven otherwise. Malaysia belongs to the rakyat and it is the rakyat who put the politicians in power. If replacing politicians is what we must do to secure a better future, replace we shall. Let us register to vote and encourage others to do the same. In your quest to create awareness, you might be faced with rebuttals and cynicism, but fear not. Plant the seed and it shall grow.

I shall end my story with a quote from Thomas Jefferson, the principal author of the US Declaration of Independence and the third US president (1801-1809):

“When the people fear their government, there is tyranny; when the government fears the people, there is liberty.”

Dear Malaysians, now is the time to rise up against tyranny and vote for change!

907 Tribute #9: Walking for Malaysia — Lucia Lai

Long before July 9, I had already made up my mind that I must attend the Bersih 2.0 rally. I missed the 2007 rally so I was very determined to make it to this one. I even started a “Penangites attending Bersih 2.0 rally” event page on Facebook, to try to see how many Penangites will go, and maybe arrange to go together.

Unfortunately, with all the clampdown going on, I was advised we should not go together in a big group. In the end I went with two of my SABM (Saya Anak Bangsa Malaysia) Penang friends, Stanley and Howie, in the latter’s car.

We bought along our yellow T-shirts but we did not wear them. We hid them in the car, and later Howie and Stanley hid them on their bodies while I hid mine in my backpack. I painted my nails yellow as I figured if I can’t get to wear yellow T-shirt, at least I have something yellow on!

We left Penang early, at 5am, and when we reached Sungai Buloh about 9am, we realised the road to KL was blocked, so we decided to go to Bangsar and park our car there. We took the LRT from Bangsar to Masjid Jamek.

It was relatively quiet at Masjid Jamek since it was still early. Some policemen could be seen loitering here and there. We decided to walk to Jalan Bukit Bintang to hang around some shopping malls. Since all the roads had been blocked, it was a breeze strolling along the city roads, which, on ordinary days, would have been jam packed.

We looked for updates of the rally from Stanley’s Twitter account and from a friend of mine who is in KL. We decided that we should join a group. We found out from my KL friend that there was a group gathering in Chinatown, so we decided to go there. Thank God there was a taxi driver who was willing to drive us there but he dropped us near Central Market. From there, we walked to Chinatown.

Indeed there was a large group there — about 1,000 people. They were standing around, chatting but after 10 minutes, they decided to march. A few young men led the march with arms locked. I felt excitement building in me as I joined in the march. As we marched, we were chanting “Bersih! Bersih!”, “Reformasi, reformasi!”, “Allahuakbar!” Although I’m not a Muslim, I joined in the last cry too. It was fun!

I didn’t know where we were going to march to but I didn’t care. As we moved we shouted to people standing by the side to join us. Some of them clapped and cheered us on as we marched past. It was around 1pm at that time.

Then we stopped in front of Menara Maybank and I realised there was someone in front of the bank speaking. By the time we reached Maybank, Howie was separated from Stanley and I. Stanley and I were busy taking photos. I didn’t realise that the crowd had grown so big until Stanley said to me, “Wow! Big crowd” and I looked all round me and was totally astounded! There were as many as 5,000 people. It seemed that some other groups from Puduraya had marched and merged with our group at Menara Maybank.

We stood there listening to the speeches. In between the speeches, there were lots of chanting of course. “Bersih! Bersih!”, “Tukar, tukar! Tukar SPR!”, “Reformasi! Reformasi!”

As I stood there and turned to people around me, I realised whoever I got into eye contact with would smile at me. It was a “feel-good” moment for me, realising that all of us felt the true 1 Malaysia spirit right there. We were strangers, yet we smiled and talked to each other like old friends.

As I was totally immersed in the speeches and the chanting, I suddenly heard someone call out “Bersedia ya! Water cannon akan datang.” Five minutes after he said that, I suddenly spied the menacing red truck moving towards us… and without warning, jets of water shot out! Everybody shouted and ran helter skelter! I quickly ran up the stalled escalator of Menara Maybank to enter the open lobby.

As I ran up, suddenly some people who were already up there shouted and ran down. It was near panic. They pushed us, those who were going up, and we who were going up pushed them too! Some of them jumped over the wall near the escalator. It then dawned on me as to why they were rushing down — tear gas was slowly seeping in the lobby! For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. Should I go up or should I jump over the wall? But I was afraid I might not be able to jump, so I decided to go up to the lobby.

Luckily, since the lobby was high up above the road, only a little of the tear gas reached it. Still I was hit by it a little and my eyes started to sting. The smell was terrible! About 20 persons were up at the lobby too and I could see several of them were gasping and coughing. One young man was literally crawling on the floor. I guess he had been hit fully by the tear gas when he was down on the road.

I quickly took out my packet of salt, bottle of water and mini towel (yes, I came prepared). Put some salt in my mouth and poured the water on the towel to wet my face. Then a man walked up to me to ask me for the salt and I noticed that he went up to the man I saw crawling to give him the salt. Others also started to pinch some of my salt. However, I was not the only one with salt. I heard one man going around, crying “Garam! Garam!”

I decided to stay up at the lobby until the police left. I had a good view of what was happening on the road. Two FRU trucks were parked right in front, with several policemen standing in front of the trucks. I also saw some people being arrested and taken to the Black Maria.

It was then I called Stanley to find out where he was. He was at Puduraya and told me that they were trapped there with police on both sides! He advised me not to come down from the Maybank lobby yet as police were still busy running around on the road arresting people!

So I stayed up there and waited. Later on, about 2pm, I heard another round of tear gas being fired but luckily it was quite far from where I was. Anyway, because of that tear gas, a few other people came running in to the lobby again. Five minutes later, I head shouts from the police and one policeman came running up the escalator. I was shocked as I thought the police were coming up to the lobby to arrest the few of us who were still there. Where could we run to? Nowhere! Luckily though, he stood at the foot of the escalator only and looked around, then went down. Phew!

Then it started to rain. What a relief, I thought to myself, that the rain came just minutes after I heard the second round of tear gas. The rain will lessen the effect of the tear gas. Even the heavens were on our side!

I waited until the rain stopped. At that time too, the Maybank woman security guard came to chase us away. She was quite polite though. She said when the tear gas and water cannons were unleashed, she allowed us to come up and hide in the lobby but now that the police had left, she wanted us to leave. Fair enough.

I went down and called Howie to find out where he was. He said he was with a group at Jalan Hang Jebat. So I decided to go there. I was pleasantly surprised to see a large group there, standing right in the centre of the traffic intersection. Howie was having fun with his Bersih headband, “canvassing” for people to take photos with the headband. “Come on,” he said, “for souvenir!” Quite a number of people obliged him!

We stood there for around 15 minutes before we heard some noises from far away and to our delight, we saw a group of people marching towards us. All of us waved to them and called out “Yeh! Yeh!” while some clapped. When this group reached us, we started to march towards the stadium. We marched and chanted, while some were chatting cheerfully with each other. The atmosphere there was simply great!

An elderly beggar with a small cute cat on his shoulder was walking with us too and many people teased him. Howie even put the Bersih headband on the cat and took a photo. When asked if he supported Bersih, he said: “Memang lah. Tetapi saya mana boleh bersih. Saya tak cukup wang untuk beli sabun.”

As we approached the stadium, we noticed there was a crowd there already, and with us joining them, there seemed to be about 10,000 of us there at that time. Of course we could not enter the stadium, so we just stood there and took pictures (with Howie “canvassing” for photos with his Bersih headband again!).

At 4pm, Howie received a SMS which mentioned that the organising committee asked us to disperse. Well, the original planned rally was from 2pm to 4pm, so naturally at 4pm, we had to disperse. Howie and a few others shouted “Bersurai!”, “Bersurai, dah pukul empat!” and remarkably, everyone did! You can see how disciplined we were.

Howie and I decided to catch the LRT to Bangsar where our car was but to our disappointment, the LRT service was closed. So we walked instead to the KTM railway station to catch the KTM Komuter train to KL Sentral.

The station seemed to be crowded with Bersih supporters, all waiting to board the train. As we rushed into the train, it was sardine-packed! However, nobody complained as at that moment, we knew we were all Malaysians with one aim — to seek for clean and fair elections. Somebody in the train even shouted softly “Bersih!” And someone jokingly said the train would take us straight to jail!

We reached KL Sentral and met up with Stanley, and at 6pm when the LRT resumed service, we took it to Bangsar to get our car and then headed back to Penang.

I realised that I had spent about six hours walking up and down almost the whole of KL city! Masjid Jamek, Bukit Bintang, Puduraya, Pasar Seni, Chinatown, Jalan Sultan, Jalan Hang Jebat and other surrounding areas. My leg ached like mad the next day but it was well worth it. I walked for democracy in our country. I walked as Anak Bangsa Malaysia who wants to save her beloved country.

What I found most enriching from the experience was a sense of euphoria to see people of all races, sizes, colours, coming together in a spirit of unity and joy with one common aim. This is truly what we called 1 Malaysia!

907 Tribute #8: Claiming back the future — Walter Chui

I stayed at home during the 2007 Bersih march out of indifference and fear for my own safety and that of my family’s. This time round, I wanted to take a stand and be counted out of conviction that it is only through clean and fair elections that the ballot box has meaning.

Speaking to friends and acquaintances further strengthened my resolve that this is a just cause worth supporting, come what may. My family was not in total agreement and was genuinely concerned for my well-being.

I attended the Bersih 2.0 launch at KLCAH and was further convinced that it will be the turning point in our country’s history when people of all ages and ethnic background unite to stand up for justice and fairness. No amount of rumour mongering and rabble rousing by extremists was going to deter me from participating in the walk on July 9.

As with thousands of others, I started my journey early on the morning of July 9 and found a way to bypass the police roadblocks by driving through the side roads to get to the Kelana Jaya LRT station. There, I met up with a friend to begin our journey into the city.

We got to KL Sentral and were careful not to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves. As much as I wanted to wear my yellow Bersih T-shirt, I decided that it would not be wise to be provocative and a walk is a walk, whatever colour shirt I was wearing.

We got to Brickfields and found a noodle stall where we enjoyed a bowl of hot curry mee. We then proceeded to Old Town Coffee opposite the YMCA for a cold drink and waited for a couple other friends to join us.

Looking around, I saw many people, young and old, in threes and fours.. Each had a back pack and it became obvious that they were there waiting for the right moment to begin the walk.

While waiting, I heard the police car siren and saw a police truck pass by carrying a few people who had been arrested. I didn’t know the reasons as some of them were not in yellow and I surmised that they might have made known their intentions too early and were easy targets when they were few in number. I anticipated that when the right moment came, the participants would get up from their seats and start the walk.

True enough, at about 12.30pm and as if on cue, people began to gather their things and soon began the sojourn to Merdeka Stadium. We took the side roads again to avoid unnecessary confrontations with the police.

Along the way, there were police cars and roadblocks but none of them attempted to stop us, as there were so many of us.

The poignant moment for me was when we got to the bridge near the railway station. I looked ahead and saw a large crowd of people coming from different directions, walking in single file and all converging towards the Syed Putra roundabout to walk towards Stadium Merdeka.

There were people of different ages and ethnic groups coming together as one Malaysia. At that moment, it didn’t matter whether we were Malays, Indians, Chinese, Ibans or Kadazans. We were one in spirit and purpose to stand against tyranny and oppression.

For a moment, there was hope in the air as it became obvious that the human spirit that had been shackled for so long was breaking free at last. The police stood by quite helplessly as there was little they could do in the sea of people who were consumed with such passion and determination to have their voices heard.

The road to Stadium Merdeka was blocked and we just followed the crowd to walk towards Puduraya. It was peaceful and there was excitement as we witnessed history in the making. The subsequent use of water cannons and tear gas did not dampen the spirit of the people.

I lent my voice to the shouts of “Hidup Bersih” and “Hidup Rakyat.” Even as the Bersih 2.0 leaders were arrested, others rose from the ranks of the crowd to take their place in leading the chants and co-ordinating the movements. It was truly a people’s movement as there were politicians in our midst but they were not leading the cheering.

It was the first time I had experienced being tear gassed and had to run to escape from the barrage of more tear gas canisters fired by the FRU. Mine was a little inconvenience compared to others who had to endure much more, including arrests and beatings.

They were the unsung heroes of the day. As if to convey its approval, the heavens opened and poured out showers of blessings and the heavy rain helped to neutralise the effects of the tear gas.

It was a momentous occasion and one that we can look back as a real turning point in our country’s history when we decide to take back our future for the next generation. Hidup rakyat.