Mushroom cloud in peacetime?

Like clockwork, not even dust had settled after the Earthquake measuring 7.7 on the Richter scale hit Myanmar; numerous announcements have emerged over the new social media outlets of well-meaning organisations offering services to collect donations for its victims. 

We have had all these so many times before. The earliest of these must surely be the Great Tsunami of Boxing Day 2004, which measured 9.1. The world saw a plethora of bodies going hyperdrive, bending backwards, trying to extract money from the well-meaning but unassumingly naive public. The collection, it seemed, was quite overwhelming. Ten years down the line, a documentary was made about the towns hit by the tsunami. It revealed that only one pledged housing project saw living daylight amongst all the broken promises; that too by the personal effort by an individual, the world-famous singer Ricky Martin.

The same thing happened in Haiti following its devastating 2010 hurricane. The Clinton Foundation jumped in to help its victims and help the island nation get back on its feet. Ten years after the storm, an assessment revealed no sustained improvement to its infrastructure. The only viable projects that seem to have been successfully developed were those that benefited the Foundation and the local cronies.

The latest donation drive to hit the nation is to help the victims of the recent Putra Heights gas pipe explosion. Even though footage coming out of the disaster area is scary, so far, no deaths have been reported; only property damage and bodily injuries have been reported. 

A third-person account provides scant information about the event. Firstly, very few Malaysians knew that we had a methane gas pipe gridline running under or near our houses. We had thought this only happened in Western countries. The line was apparently for industrial purposes. 

As in the case of MH370, the head does not know what the tail is doing. At least, that is the impression I get listening to the official press release of the committee appointed to investigate the disaster. The appointees of the sc-called panel expert to investigate the mishap remain opaque. Their representative does not exude brilliance or confidence that every rock will be turned to reveal the truth. I wonder if the services of academics were called for to get to the root of the explosion. Maybe everyone in power wants the whole fiasco to remain an unsolvable enigma so that none of their shenanigans in cutting corners does not come into the open.   The pressmen at the press meet were no better. Forget investigative journalism; they did not even ask the right questions. Instead of hurling difficult questions at the officious, they squawk random and meaningless questions that a primary student would squeal just to please his teacher.

One netizen pointed out that a leading political party started a donation drive to help the victims. Unfortunately, he also noticed that the given account was that of the political party, not a dedicated account set up for relief.

There are many examples of charity foundation abuse. A charity in the UK started during COVID-19 by the relatives of a 90-something war veteran who wanted to record his progress in recovering from a hip fracture. People were smitten by this nonagenarian, and they donated to his Captain Tom Foundation in droves. Soon, its assets became enormous, so enormous that unnecessary maintenance started showing up in its accounts. The veteran also wrote an autobiography, the proceeds of which went into charity but were taken out for personal use. Long story short, the old man died, The Captain Tom Foundation was investigated, and his daughter Hannah and her husband, who initially helped to establish the charity, were found to have benefitted from its mismanagement and blurring of private and charitable interests. The foundation is now defunct.

A mushroom cloud in peacetime

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A problem many would like to have...

While scavenging around for the next topic to ponder, I came across a conundrum a friend of a friend was going through. Not many would find it a big problem. Many would not mind inheriting that problem. Others would say, "What problem?"

After working all their lives engaging with various businesses to pull themselves out of the shackles of poverty, they can say they have arrived. No, thanks to the governmental racially discriminatory policies, and despite this, they had managed to give their three children an overseas education. Again, the children had opted to settle overseas because of the national social re-engineering policies. The roots are so deeply embedded elsewhere that they find it pointless to return to the roost. Their occasional summer vacation and digital connections would suffice for family bonding.

The couples are left to fend for the coop and the empty nest. To complement that, there are multiple landed properties, real estate assets, various incomes, and a stash of moolah to lubricate their silver years.

None of the children are keen to take over the legacy the parents will soon leave. In the minds of the foreign-educated liberty thinking, socialistic minds of the offspring, they do not want anything with their capitalistic parents' money, which they would be thinking was earned through the blood and sweat toiled by the bodies of the working class. And they want none the part of it.

So, the elders are left with a dilemma. How will they will off their legacy when none of their kids want to inherit it. In a world where siblings and relatives clobber and murder each other to get a piece of the meat, here they have to deal with no one wanting their hard-earned.

Many individuals with apparently noble intentions (?really) have no dearth of suggestions and avenues on how to dispose of their wealth to the world. There is no shortage of NGOs willing to put their money to good use, more than a hundred orphanages and homes that are always short of contributions, the house of worship with their bottomless pit of donation kits and private entities that could set up trusts to aid the needy. Yet, they decided to spend it all with close friends, fine dining, rewarding their palate and seeing all the things that they could see in this lifetime. Who knows what holds for them in the future when this life is through? An abyss? A new beginning with no recollection of what transpired here and now? Or…

I attended a friend's 80th birthday recently. It was a celebration of a man's life who had every right to show and motivate others through his slow journey of rags to riches. After a fulfilling life in the civil service, corporate world, and academia, he is engrossed in spirituality. He took it his life's mission to pay back to society. He finances needy students and also engrossed himself in social activities. His secret to success and happiness is his outlook on life. He shields off every hurdle that comes his way with a smile.

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The tale behind the old wound...

HUSM, Kubang Kerian, 1986

Ask any medical student in HUSM Kubang Krian around 1986-88. Invariably, everyone would have learned everything there is to know about fistula-in-ano from one particular patient. He was a chronic long-staying in-patient with an intractable condition used in many surgical medical student final examinations. The chap was so knowledgeable about his condition that he would coach medical students on the correct questions to ask.

This patient had quite an engaging story about how he acquired his debilitating condition. He was a peasant in the interiors of Cambodia during the civil war. He was apprehended by the soldiers and underwent unspeakable tortures. Traumatic insertion of blunt objects into his posterior end eventually led to his situation.  

A patient is not just a person with a medical condition but the sum of the ups and downs of his existence. Hence, a medical student should never fail to paint a composite picture of his whole being. We knew he was not a Malaysian but a Cambodian, but he carried a Malaysian 'blue' identity card (ID) with him. Naturally, we probed as proud inquisitive Malaysians who do not like others to have access to anything.

What we found is illustrated precisely in this old Filem Negara propaganda footage. PERKIM, the Malaysian Islamic Welfare Board, as part of their dakwah, a mission to help out fellow members of the Ummah who were in trouble, oppressed by non-believer rulers. It did not matter that their own backyards were in tatters or that their own kind in the Muslim kingdom was suffering. They took it upon themselves to meddle in other people's affairs, unsolicited, to reinforce the state pity-seeking victimhood of its members. These Cambodian refugees were rescued at sea, given a new lease of life, a new name, a new religion, maybe, and a new identity as citizens of a generous charitable Muslim government. 

All of these were done with the active participation of the leaders going through the usual due process. Everything was hush-hush and fast-tracked under the cloak of secrecy.

RETROSPEKTIF : BERLINDUNG DI MALAYSIA (PERKIM) (1976)

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Nothing sacred anymore?

Just the other day, my friend commented that during her midnight viewing of 'The Man of Steel', way too many toddlers were among the audience. Toddlers and midnight screening does not go hand in hand. Well, in Bolehland, everything goes 'hand in hand', 'hand in glove', 'ear to ear' and 'close one eye'!
Isn't midnight way past their bedtime?
Then you have a widescreen public announcement of putting the tone of the mobile phone in silent mode courtesy of Malaysia's favourite reason for obesity, KFC. Just five minutes into the movie, a joker would talking at the top of his voice about his whereabouts to his caller after an equally irritating ringtone of 'Gangnam Style'.
A typical scene in a philharmonic orchestra  performance of international stature in the heart of KL... As the audience are cradled into bliss of cultural immersion, somewhere in the hall, an earth shattering techno music ring tone would shatter the serenity and the owner of the phone would rush out of the hall as if he is out to defuse a time bomb!

Kumar@Qumar

This similar scenario was seen in a charity dinner that I attended over the weekend. It was a modest Chinese 10 course dinner held in a modest hall with loads of history attached to the building. It was a precolonial building which had been refurbished recently and was a novel site to hold such an event. The catering was given to a small restaurant out-of-town in keeping with their cost cutting agenda and the idea to promote SMEs. Many of the performers were doing their bit of community service by performing pro bono.
The entertainment was wholesome -performances by inmates of the charity home, famous singers and 2 stand-up comedians.
This is where the ugly side of Malaysian manifest. Perhaps, ugly is too strong a word. Ignorance, aloofness, lack of foresight or lackadaisical would be more appropriate. At the outset, the organizers had promoted Kumar as the main attraction of the event. Kumar, a well known stand-up drag queen comedienne, is famous for her X-rated below the belt jokes, was belting away with her 18+ lewd jokes. And you were wondering about in the empty space in the front of podium? Toddlers! So much so that the performer in her own jovial way told the crowd to lock up the kids!

101 and still running!

Chardikala literally means "Rising Spirit". It is an expression of always being in High Spirits, forward thinking
and progressive. It can also be an expression to promote Goodwill.

The PJ Sikh Gurudwara organized a charity run with Fauja Singh as the star. After running in the Singapore SC 10km race, he made a stop over at Malaysia to flag off the runner - a lot of activity in a day for a 101 year old - The man who ousted David Beckham as their mascot in Adidas. Disappointed with the non participation of the centurion, 1000 participants still thronged the Astaka Stadium in Petaling Jaya amidst the drizzle and threat of downpour to witness this historic event, more to see the Man in real light.
What is a Punjabi function without loud music, right? As part of their warm up session, the Masters of Ceremony (DJ The Flying Singh of Traxx FM) and Niphon led the crowd through bhangra!

After a not very pompous start, the runners, mostly not-so-serious runners of all races started running. Some were even holding their open umbrellas! But what the heck, all in the name of charity. The run was a loop from the stadium pass Crystal Crown Hotel, Hussein Onn Eye Hospital, PJ Hilton, PJ New Town, pass AmCorp Mall and back to the Stadium almost 4-5km.
The end of the run was ushered in with free food. What I really needed at that time after the wet run, which was sorely missing, was spiced North Indian tea (garam garam chai). I just had to make do with the next beat thing which was available - cold Milo drinks given out by the Milo truck!

Pumped with bhangra: Runners dancing before the run.
(Check out the the guy in red in centre with No.77).

Turbaned tornado coming in: Fauja arriving to flag off the Chardikala Fun Run at Padang Astaka in Petaling Jaya.

http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2012/12/3/nation/12403557&sec=nation

Are you ready for this?

Konned by Kony 2012? 
Why is it that I do not believe anymore in humanitarian efforts in saving lives? After seeing through Banda Aceh's devastation by tsunami and how the world flocked together to give heavily politicized medical and monetary aid  to an area which have not seen any discernible since the mishap. How about the Asian financial crisis and how the learned bankers from the the most advanced countries put the blame squarely on the the affected  countries' bad practices, suggested radical reforms with IMF's interests' at heart. Only later, did fate hurled a cruel blow to themselves in the form of sub-prime loan fiasco!
Now, there is a move to bring to light the figure of Joseph Kony, an Ugandan rebel with delusions of grandiosity who is the cause of 'The Invisible Children'. This invisibility of these children is through their separation from families and enslavement into the flesh trade and mindless training to be child soldiers. A group of people realized they should make aware atrocities done in Uganda by making Kony (in)famous so that the world leaders may be pressured to do something towards eradicating this atrocity. This would be apparent when the world is supposed to come together on 20th April 2012 with massive overnight poster campaign of Kony 2012.
Sounds noble? Hey, wait!
While you are at it, the organizers are selling pouches containing bracelets to be worn on the said day and kind contributions are welcomed! Is it a sheer coincidence that they discovered oil in Northern Uganda? The issue they are highlighting is for a long overdrawn course. Joseph Kony is awaiting trial but still at large.
For a cynic like me, nothing moves me. During the 'We are the World' Sudan famine, aid only managed to fatten Government officials while the victims starved away. How can you trust that your hard earned money will indeed reach the intended party when day in day out we receive emails from Royalties and high ranking officers from the same continent complaining that their monies are stuck in a so-and-so African National Bank and they need our kind intervention to 'rescue' it at a handsome token? 

Before we go around rescuing others, we should take care our own backyards! There is so much cheating, human trafficking, corruption, apathy right under noses, and it stinks to high heaven!

Evil that men do 2!

I just attended a charity gala dinner organised by a college in town. It was held to honour orphaned children from three orphanages. Sounds like a noble cause — the well-endowed, high-heeled attendees giving back to society, entertaining socially deprived children, and raising funds for their daily needs!

Yeah right! The nihilistic part prefers to see it from another angle...

The Evil That Men Do (1984)

The college run by corpulent capitalistic businessmen who, realising the growing concern over the decline and apprehension of the standard of public education in Malaysia, established colleges to offer quality education with affiliations to well-renowned overseas universities to attract the perpetually dissatisfied paranoid Malaysians (who never trust the official version of Malaysian statistics) to send their spoiled children to study there at exorbitant fees.

Feeling guilt and mounting criticism from the lower classes of society, similar to the heat felt from the Wall Street protesters, these business conglomerates try to cleanse their 'sins' of charging exorbitant fees by engaging in CSR (Corporate Social Responsibility) projects. The event I attended was one such example. The college offered scholarships to students with exceptional academic and extracurricular achievements, with the understanding that these top-tier students would complete their studies with a project like this—intended to evoke tears from the dinner attendees and foster 'empathy' as perceived by the wealthy college. Everyone is content: the attendees, having contributed to a noble, tax-deductible cause; the students, gaining insight into how the underprivileged live, despite most being born into privilege; the organisers, for gaining recognition that might lead to prestigious awards from monarchs—further enhancing their status in Tatler and lifestyle magazines; not to mention the caterers, hall owners, and events managers who profited handsomely from the occasion.

The teenagers, with their wealth of imagination and exposure, did a splendid job of setting the mood with the ambience (featuring multiple hues of light, as though we were caged in a submarine) and backdrop. The bourgeois and refined upbringing of the students was evident from the ushering of the guests, the multi-talented music extravaganza, and the smooth, seamless handling of the show by the designated masters of ceremonies. Even the glitch of the non-functioning microphones was wittily replaced with sign language, and the disturbance of the media player was cleverly managed — kudos!

It's sad to think that these young talents may one day leave our shores for greener pastures, leaving us with graduates who are unfit for employment, unable to converse in English, and in need of prodding for everything — like a snail, with the danger of withdrawing into their shell if the prodding is too intrusive!

The hosts managed to persuade (I often wonder if 'con'ning is part of 'convince'ing?) the numerous sponsors to part with their money, which was used to pay for the orphans' dinner tickets. The remaining amount of the total collection (RM35,000) was presented as a mock cheque to be shared among the three organisations, much to the delight of photographers who were capturing shots that would be used as CVs and KPIs for college directors and students alike. The students will add this experience of working with underprivileged children to their extensive list of certificates, helping them stand out in future scholarship interviews, entry to Ivy League or Oxbridge, or later employment in a multinational company.

Coming to the real guests of honour for the evening, they performed to the best of their abilities to entertain their hosts. Unlike their host and the rest of the paying guests, who were dressed to kill in their branded cocktail, figure-hugging dresses and stilettos, the children were content with their regular, down-to-earth street clothes (probably donations from kind souls), performing wholeheartedly to please their hosts and well-wishers, making the time and money spent worthwhile.

 

Call me weird, but in their shoes, I would feel humiliated performing like a dance monkey, performing to please my masters with their cheesy speeches and material splashing just to inflate their egos.

Evil that men do! Due to some (wo)men who treat intimate moments as recreation rather than procreation, society's disapproval and denial of promiscuity as a real problem, and the ostracisation of the offspring resulting from such acts, children are left without a social safety net. Abandoned by parent(s) who prioritise their own worldly satisfaction over their children's welfare, orphans are the unfortunate outcome.