Freedom

Much has been said about our beloved country’s up-coming biggest event of the year but politics aside, I really think we’re cool. Our forefathers put their lives on the line just to gain the hard-fought freedom from the then british scums. I think the least we could do is to show our gratitude and appreciation by celebrating our 50th come 31st.

From my view point, merdeka simply means freedom. The definition of it is broad but I’m not getting into the philosophical side of it or my brain will go bonkers.

Personally, after years being bed-ridden, getting on a wheelchair for the first time was already a huge achievement. It was a step forward. That’s freedom to me. Never has it crossed my mind I’m physically prisoned for life to be confined on one. I can basically go anywhere with it albeit some of the disable-unfriendly building structures around.

Like-wise, our public transportation. Getting onto their buses is a long shot. But with most of the drivers are junkie-bunch, I’m not missing anything there, am I?

Besides, wheelchair-users in the Klang Valley have Mobiliti they can count on. It is run by caring Malaysians, and being true to their tag as an NGO, funds are always short. I may be lucky to be a klang-Valley-ian, but not so for my crip-buddies up-north, down-south, those on the east-coast and across the South China Sea. This is where the relevant ministry should play their part as such services should be expanded nation-wide.

So anyway, I’m trying to stay focused. Lets get back on track. More about freedom.

We have moved forward so fast economically since, say, the Japanese occupation that today we have restaurants like Sushi king or that Yoshi-kuniya or something to choose from, from the very same Japanese weirdos themselves.

Now, freedom is about choice.

I listen to anarchy music but chose not to be a left-winger. Nor am I an ass-licker. It’s what the music is to my ears, that’s my choice.

That’s freedom to me.

I'm free to crank the system up to my prefered decible level anytime of the day, except for maghrib or mom will give me 'the stare'. Still, that's freedom. The flexibility is there.

And now days I get to switch channels during commercial breaks. I’m free to be nosey watching other family’s life on Little People Big World instead of the stupid primetime news at 8.

These are the simplest of freedoms that I truly appreciate and that one should really take into account.

I tried to understand what intellectual freedom is all about but it was so boring I had to quit reading it.

The Communist chose to disband when they shouldn’t have formed in the first place.

And that was the only intelligent thing they did. So I figured that’s how one defines intellectual freedom. Or maybe not. I dont know. I just couldn't care less.

I’ve chosen to set up a blog with zero experience in writing. Now by the way, I chose to cut this entry short or I’ll only make a fool out of myself.

Come Friday, I chose to be with Malaysia spiritually.

Salam Merdeka!

Woohoo!

Down with the Sickness

This isn’t good. I have a bad sore throat with thick mucous stuck somewhere, most probably the larynx, or is it the pharynx. But its irritating where ever it is. And my inner ears, either the cochlea or the incus hurts like hell. Falling sick seems inevitable.

All the nicotines I puffed today tastes like shit. The roti canai I had for dinner was tasteless.

I’m going to switch my brain off for now and hope to get it turned on in time for Merdeka eve celebration.

Snorrrrtttttttttttttttt

Ahh, so he’s at it again. Leaving a shitload of comments on my other half’s blog. Sometimes I wonder if he gets paid for wasting precious hours minding other people’s business. He hated me with all his guts and I don’t even know him.

This time around, he stressed more on my so called ‘westernised’ family background. Whatever fuck that means.

Woi beruk makyeh, aku melayu!!

My girlfriend had Kerplunked re-posted on her blog hoping to get the messsge across. And apparently it did. As predicted he didn’t take the kick while on the floor snorting on faeces. And sure enough, he’s got plenty to say.

He calls me a coward while hiding behind his anonymity.

He thinks he is God and believe I have sinned for leading a ‘westernised’ lifestyle.

He thinks he is God again that I should repent.

He thinks I’m rich for whatever reason only he(the god) knows.

He enjoys molesting primary school boys.

He plays ice-breaker and thinks that my girl is better off with anyone but me.

He plays sex therapist and believes for being a crippled I’m suffering from E.D and I can never satisfy her.

And some other shit. He certainly is up to something. I think he likes my girlfriend. Maybe that it hurts him even more to accept the fact a physically-fit moron lost to a crippled. yeah. That.

What is it about a guy on wheelchair and a sweet girl that we are not compatible? I mean, we’re definitely not, according to this pig atleast. Is there such a law, or by-laws written in the constitution somewhere that forbids the crips from having a relationship with anyone? Is there? Mr Haris Ibrahim? Someone please enlighten me.

This prick even claimed everyone he approached shares the same sentiment. Am I missing something here? And he actually had the time mongering on something that’s none of his concern.That says a lot about this guy, whom we believe is not in any ways related.We can only conclude that he has been secretly admiring my girl and they both were once professionally acquainted.

….Oh boy………. I really need a drink. And I mean a glass of this morning’s refrigerated 3in1 coffee. But since he has this silly idea I am too Mat Salleh, I’ll have iced latte instead. Or better still a pint of Tiger just to add a few more to all the shit I have sinned.



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Here we are, just days away from celebrating our 50th Independence and yet we still have people with such backward and down right stupid mentality.

No Idea

Looks like nothing much been happening lately, as we’re getting ever closer to the 50th Merdeka Celebration next week.

I read Wheel Power today, a column by fellow wheeler Anthony Thanasayan on what Merdeka means from the disabled community's point of view and Perwira K9’s advisor was one of the two featured atleast in half of the article.

Mr Chong Tuck Meng, fondly known as the ‘Boss’ amongst some of us has been a quad for 25 years now. He has vast experience under his belt fighting equal rights for persons with disability and played a major role in the setting up of Perwira K9 and involved in various of programs for the benefits of the needies in general.

He touched on the Disability act bill that has yet to be implemented in Parliament and strongly feels that its high time a representative from the disabled community make our presence felt in the Dewan.

Hold on. Don’t we actually have one already? That Tiger of Malaya guy? Eh, sounds like a heat rub tiger balm. That Haw Par brand from Singapore, or the emblem of Filem Negara Malaysia.

Ok, seriously. Karpal Singh is an elected representative and he’s on a freakin’ wheelchair. But no. I think he’s too occupied with political matter to bother about such bills. Besides, we need someone from the NGO, a non-partisan with respectable knowledge on the current issues.

We urgently need one. Maybe we could get one of the senators to crippled their limbs and, voila, we have an instant candidate. Or is that an incumbent?

Oh hell, this entry is getting nowhere. It was originally supposed to be part of the run-in to Merdeka but typically I screwed it up somewhere and went astray.

I wish I could be more focused in dealing with certain subject and finish up the whole article on it. I am surrounded with too much distractions to write even half a paragraph.

Sucks.

I just don’t have what it takes to be or come even close to Rocky, Nuraina or Peter Tan as far as writing goes, but I cant be that dumb right? Wrong.

Ok, lets get back on track. Yes. Merdeka is like, what, 7 days away? And its going to be a long weekend as 31st falls on Friday.

I bet everyone has applied to take an extra day leave on that Thursday. So imagine, as from this Saturday til the next Sunday, they only have to waste three days of their life working. I think I’m gonna ask my girl to do the same and we can spend more time together.

Back to the Rocky, and possibly Pn Nuraina. They’ll be attending the much talk-about do which will take place tomorrow in Damansara Heights as part of Merdeka celebration. Themed The Bangsa Anak Malaysia Merdeka Get Together, I believe most of the heavyweight bloggers will be around. I would love to make myself present but I fear I may be out of place, not because I’m on wheelchair, hell no. it’s a brand new chair, mind you. Honestly, I’m not very sure about this Bangsa Malaysia Thing. I mean, I doubt it'll be a non-political affair. But it does NOT mean, in any ways I am against it. No.

Really guys, have fun. And uncle Zorro, do tapau some Mihun… NOT!!

Ok this piece of poop is getting crappier and out of hands. I should stop. Infact I should have stopped much earlier.

Maybe I should write something on Anthony and the ‘Boss’ as they are the wheelchair heavyweights championing the equal rights of the disabled but since weekend is here, I might screw it up again and start doing football commentaries.

I’m outta here.

The Stare

I was inspired by Daphne Ling’s The Story of Little Hisham and his Red Balloon here that immediately after I left the house of one young guy with a spinal cord injury, I felt I should write it down and say something about him.

*Roma Irama, a 20 year-old dude involved in a terrible accident two years ago and suffered exactly the same injury as mine, where our cervical cord numbers 6 and 7 were badly damaged. But the weird thing about spinal cord injury is, we may share a common injury technically but our condition varies. The thing is, I am far worse than him physically as he is capable of doing more things independently.. That’s what I told him just to give him the slight edge for that moral-boost. The numbness on his hands are there but his fingers are functioning quite well. He can even move his right toes. In a way, I was telling him the truth.

I got to know him by chance. He’s my girlfriend’s sister’s colleague or something like that. Eh, hold on. He is…my girl’s…colleague’s brother. Yea, that.

And so we went to his place situated somewhere near the graveyards in SS1 PJ. Roma Irama’s sister wanted me to come over so much as according to her, her brother has never been going out since the accident two years ago. So it would do him good if there’s someone like me to give him the ‘talk’. He was too reserved that it got her so worried.

Well, I tried my best. Immediately I learned he’s got almost all the ingredients needed to get back on track, rejoining the society. His physical strength can put most of us old quads and paras to shame. His family has been there cheering on since day one. And he doesn’t have a girlfriend to distract him.

But he lacks the self-confidence.

Naturally being an introvert, Roma Irama is definitely lacking the mental strength. It was written all over his face. His body language was there to let the whole world see how shy he was. My girl had to leave us two alone and that too I find it a little difficult to get him open his mouth. Only after awhile I knew he was listening all the time because some of my stupid jokes got him in stitches but still can’t really get him to spill out what he had in mind.

A few puffs (yes, he smokes too) actually did the trick and he was willing to open up bit by bit after that. As I predicted, the feeling of being physically different from the others was the main reason holding him back. The kind of stare you get when your fly is unzipped. Or the kind of head-turn a busty lady usually get when walking past us, men.

Yes, the feeling of discomfort. Things like, ‘oh no, he’s looking at me because I’m crippled’ or ‘Is he looking at me or my urinal bag’. That kinda stuff will always bug every person on wheelchair to bits during his earlier years being crippled. So no way I can blame him. It took me and some wheeler friends more than three years to bounce back, and this poor chap has only been in wheelchair for two. But he is lucky to have met someone in the same boat to nudge his crooked spine off and get things moving at this very early stage.

Come to think of it, its not really in what shape you are or how different one can be. It’s not really much about the lack of confidence nor mental strength from a person who had a brush with death and survived to endure more shits in this world. I think what is lacking more than all the above is, public awareness. As a result, we get the ‘unwanted stare’. Its not wrong to stare as human being are curious lot. Fine there. But must one stop just for the sake of staring for one full minute? I mean, hey, hello…you’re drooling there…60 seconds of your freakin’ life is on hold just to look at a guy on wheelchair? Whats the deal there, man? Come oonnn, your wife needs you more there. Mind your own business, a**hole.

Sorry got carried away there.

Now where was I again? Ah yes, that. A**hole!

Back to Roma Irama. We spoke for about two hours and I remember telling him its not weird to have such negative perspective towards the public and vise versa. What he needs right now is to break the duck And the best way is to get some wheelchair buddies to go along so that when the ‘stare’ starts rolling in, it could well meant for anyone of them, and not just him. That very first outing will serve as a tool to get him ‘warmed up’ at the same time. Just to get the ‘feel’ of the new atmosphere. And I promised him, once the duck’s ‘smashed’, he will be nagging his carer to take him out more often.

Before we split, I provided some infos on all the benefits he gets to enjoy from Jabatan Kebajikan Masyarakat. Actually more than one can imagine. Its not bad though, minus the red tape and shit.

You know what, I am in no position to tell anyone to ‘get a life’ but if only they knew my point, my intention, the message i'm trying to get it across, they’d wish they’ve had met me much earlier. But if only they knew…

*Obviously Roma Irama is not his real name. It's Amar. I just felt like dangdut-ised this entry.

Earl Of C**t

The Malay Male has been deleted, by the blog owner himself, Amir Hafizi.

I have been having it bookmarked for God knows how long. A great writer, extremely witty and He has never failed to tickle one’s rib. There goes my daily dose of laughter and the regional sex guide by the expert, Amir himself.

Apparently this was the second time he did such as stated in his final post here * but had also mentioned he may re-start in a few years time. Lets hope it wont be that long.

Here’s to you, bro. wishing you all the best with all the shits out there.

Yam seng...!!


* thanks Daphne and Nadia.

Mihun Again

So the partayyy went pretty well down the garden at Wisma Rekod (formerly Wisma Kayu) @ HKL. The wheelchair-bounds, patients, volunteers and all the staffs joined in the orgies.

Free-flows of booze, unlimited supplies of weed and methamphetamines, strip teasers on every pole,…these were the only absentees.

It was fun all in all. At least It was fun for me to have met former ward mates. The do was jointly organised by us, Persatuan Perwira K9 and Yayasan Scomi, the company’s wing that handles charity events. But there was no sightings of that Kamaluddin guy nor the other infamous fella.

The thing kicked off very early with breakfast served for all the participants. I went with my two cousins and since we’re a bunch of big-eaters, we expected more than just fried mihun and several types of cakes. I mean, mihun again? I get mihuns on practically every functions I have attended. Maybe its hassle-free and conveniently cheap but hey, we’ve got it all covered by the Scomi Group, They can afford Chili’s or some weird french restaurants serving slugs as the caterer but no, we’re not demanding on silly things like that. Just a fine malay/chinese/indian restaurant would do it. Why is it compulsory for such functions to have mihun, dry karipaps and if you’re lucky, roti jala and chicken curry on the menu really beats me.

By the way, havent they heard of nasi lemak?

So anyway I took my time when all had proceeded to the ‘dance floor’ at the rehab garden. And the best part was, by the time I reached there, a long speech by one of the organisers was just over. Yay.

From my observation, those guys from Scomi had a blast more than we did. According to one of them, it was a rare opportunity to get upclose with us quads and paras. They tried their hands on wheelchair basketball and had a tough time adjusting on their body balance and would usually end up falling backwards. Fortunately, nobody broke their spine. Or he would have made instant friends for life.

The event was already in full-swing by now. We all strutted our stuffs on darts, carums, table tennis, you name it. The show-offs all around. Everyone wanted to be a clown so the professionals were not needed.

Not surprisingly the board games were the main attraction as it was played in an air-conditioned room considering the hot weather on that day.

All the games were over by lunch time. Nasi minyak was served with little helping. I was starving like hell that while having our lunch we actually discussed about going to Makbul or Sri Paandi or Burger King right after that.

Towards the end, A wheelchair-dance demonstration took the spotlight and got everyone in awe. Then followed by prize-giving ceremony and a short speech from our president. Goody bags were handed to all the participants on wheelchairs and after a few photos taken, we split.

We found ourselves at hartamas’ Burger King 15 minutes later.