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| MOVING HOUSE
This blog is closing down. :)
Just as I originally intended the guerilla blog to be...
But the good news is..
You should visit a very cool and happening blog at www.imucf.blogspot.com
And while I was doing that blog, I realized blogspot allowed more freedom in java scripts, so I'm moving house.. www.sarahli.blogspot.com
No Cindy..it's not www.scandalousperson.com Haha...
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| MAMMOTH
It's indeed a mammoth task. Really respect Tim for conceiving the idea, carrying it to term and delivering it...all in the space of 3 weeks. A set of questions and answers for every single lecture given from Semester 2 to Semester 3. All done by 15 or more students from our batch, each contributing around 60-70 questions each. The end result? A complete bank of questions plus answers, for every single lecture given. All nicely typed out and arranged accordingly to systems. Not easy to do, lots of deadlines, people organization and arranging to do. But it's done. I tip my hat to Tim who made things possible, even though he benefits nothing out of this. I really hope the juniors would find this helpful. And no doubt, the CF people have got something extra to share with the juniors now. :)
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| AMAZING IN THE UNAMAZING
I went to the market yesterday. When I was younger it was one of my least favorite activities. I would squirm my way out of following my mother to the market every time. I never liked waking up early, walking at the fishmonger section where dirty water would be everywhere or the butchers~{!/~} where half sawed legs of pigs would be on display. Neither did I like the smell of rotting vegetables, or carrying heavy bags of purchases. And the market in Labuan is not like the pristine aisles of Carrefour or other hyper marts.
Yet this time, I volunteered to go with my mum. Yes, the market was still the same and I didn~{!/~}t like to actually be there. But I really wanted to be there with her. And somehow, my perspective was different now. It~{!/~}s just really a privilege to observe the hustle and bustle of the market while my mum did her marketing.
Things I never noticed before. Like for example, how my mum would speak Malay to the Indonesian ~{!.~}taukeh~{!/~} of the vegetable stall, then effortlessly switch to Mandarin while she purchased yellow noodles, only to speak Foo Chow to the lady selling taufoo. And the mathematics of counting her purchases on the spot and not to mention her bargaining skills. My mum would also know what to buy without a shopping list. Or which stall sells the freshest fish or the sweetest watermelon. Moreover, how her eyes would light up when she tells me she~{!/~}s buying lot of Sunkist oranges, because my dad likes them.
Going to the market is also different in Labuan than in KL. Here, the proprietors of some stalls would be patients of my dad. So would be some of the marketers themselves. So, every five minutes or so, I would have to greet ~{!.~}aunty~{!/~} or ~{!.~}uncle~{!/~} and nod, and smile, while they would say, ~{!0~}wah, your daughter~{!/~}s so big already.~{!1~}
In the chaos of the market with people yelling to draw customers, young men carrying boxes of produce, ~{!.~}taukehs~{!/~} counting money, chickens squalling away; I feel like an intruder. This is not what I~{!/~}m accustomed to but this is the Malaysian way of life. Yet, intruding into a hemisphere I~{!/~}m not familiar with allows me to appreciate the beauty this dirty, busy market.
The beauty of each mother who faithfully does her marketing to cook her children~{!/~}s favorite dishes. The beauty of some women who watch their stalls with infants slung on their backs while they haggle with customers, to put food on the table for the rest of their families. Not to mention the beauty of laborers, whose skins are bronzed from the sun and whose shoulders~{!/~} strain under the weight of boxes, to earn RM10-20 a day for their families in Indonesia.
What about the beauty of fishermen who rise before the crack of dawn to go to sea and return to sell, to put their children in clean dark blue and white uniforms? The beauty of road sweeper, who indeed has an unenviable task of sweeping the grime, yet persists so that he can ride his motorcycle to his home with his paycheck.
Or the heartbreaking beauty of the young 10 year old Filipino child, with yellowing hair from the lack of nutrition, as she walks around the market, with a basket full of ice lollies, each going for 20 cents, so that she bring some money back to her family. The beauty of her eyes, as she gazes longingly as other people buy cloth from the nearby stall, painfully aware of her own tattered dress.
Lord, open my blind eyes to see. And my deaf ears to hear. And my selfish heart to care. For I want to find beauty in the ugly. Because that~{!/~}s where true beauty in You is found.
And thank You for the privilege You~{!/~}ve given me to carry my mum~{!/~}s shopping. To hear her bargain. To see how much she cares for me as she buys crabs (she always cooks crabs when I~{!/~}m back). To appreciate the significance of the mundane. To taste the bananas she bought (haha), knowing that it~{!/~}s all done in love. And simple things like buying two additional batik nightgowns in the market today with her. (CF committee, you know what I mean, haha)
Lord, thank you that you can be found everywhere. In the clean, majestic chapels, yet more profoundly, in the dirty markets. The amazing in the unamazing. You are.
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| This is a very long and super serious, serious, serious?sorry, not scandalous or fun) post.
The issue has been throbbing in my head and keeping me awake?I am typing this at 2.25 a.m. so that I can at least try to sleep after this) Read at your own mental health's sake. I don't want to give anyone a headache?:)
(on second thoughts, I should really have taken up political science and not medicine!)
Oh yea, do visit me in ISA lock up if I get arrested :)
IGNORANCE VS TRUTH
Is ignorance really bliss? If so, why do we strive to seek after truth and knowledge in life?
I can't answer both questions myself. And recently I've seen very much bothered by them. Maybe I've been reading too many political articles and magazines written by cynical, hard-nosed, journalists. But knowing another version of truth and seeing life through different spectacles has jarred me. What is the real truth and am I really willing to face it, or even know about it?
Take for instance democracy. I, as a Malaysian have been brought up to believe democracy is the best policy to govern any country. And yes, I still do believe in democracy and its values. The core of democracy that people must be given the freedom of choice and the respect for choices. But in my (own) opinion, democratic governments are often over-rated. Are they truly better than other governments?
For example, the Philippines. It's a fully democratic nation yet bribes, coups and the "people-power" movements taint its democracy? Personally, I support both movements and yet, if democracy is truly so effective, then why the need for such coups? And yet, I can also turn around and say that "people-power" movements are an expression democracy itself.
So, a case of democracy vs. democracy? When is the line drawn between true democracy and the nation's laws of democracy?
What's "true" democracy and "controlled" democracy anyway? Is Malaysia a less democratic government because its democracy is controlled? Is it true democracy if all the major newspapers are owned by ruling political parties? Does it show that democracy is thriving if everyone robotically sings "Keranamu Malaysia" and nobody criticizes the government?
What about "forced" patriotism? Am I a less Malaysian because I choose to think a bit more about the weaknesses of my government? Is it democratic to deceive the whole nation that meritocracy rules in our universities when in actual fact there are separate entrance examinations? Are we a democratic nation when one can get arrested for just questioning the extend of our democracy?
What about Singapore? It seems that in Singapore, democracy is just another label for a party that controls nearly 100% of the parliamentary seats. How can there be democracy if the people don't even have another party to choose from?
The freedom to choose is the essence of democracy. But then, what about laws like ISA in democratic countries?
What about Brunei then? I really doubt the authenticity of democracy, with a monarch ruling and yet calling himself president at the same time?
Dare I even mention Indonesia? Or India?
Or the "rich white man" lands that seem to have everything yet have foundations that are crumbling to the termites of apathy, greed and disillusionment? Where is democracy when even the most respected international body, the UN has permanent member countries with veto rights? Are the countries that preach democracy willing to give up their vetoes to promote democracy in the UN? (No!!)
But then, which nation is the perfect example of "true" democracy? America? No, because America was a divided nation during the balloting of the presidential post. What is democracy to the 49% of Americans who voted against their president? Is it democratic for the president to decide if the people of Iraq and Afghanistan need democracy without even consulting them?
And why must democracy be forced down the throats of other nations? Is democracy the cure for improvised citizens of rich oil producing countries? Is democracy "freedom" to Iraqis when in actual fact, the election of its president is hugely influenced by the occupying nation? More importantly, has democracy brought life to the country or has the country lost lives to democracy?
Yet, is there another alternative to democracy? Communism that killed millions of Chinese during the Cultural Revolution? Monarchy that ensures the wealth of nations is spent on huge palaces and Louis Vuitton handbags for their consorts? Dictatorship that concentrates power at the hands of one man; while the whole nation suffers in hunger?
Are nations without democracy any better than those with? How about the millions of persecuted Christians dying for the profession of their faith in a nation that does not believe in democracy. Or the improvised people of the deserts, who have oil under their feet but leaders who gush the cash on private jets?
Is it no wonder that its young are willing to die for a cause they believe in, for in reality, they have nothing to live for.
Are we settling for the lesser of two evils?
And the wekaness of democracy this is just the tip of the iceberg of life's complexities. What about feminism, AIDS, poverty, apathy, greed, corruption? Injustice, war, diseases and racism?
Why am I caring for all of this? It only gives me a headache, a loss of hope and a shroud of bleakness. Everywhere I look, truth seems to poke at me. Things are not what they seem. Black and white merge to form shades of gray. Which is why I am bothered by the two questions.
I've realized that ignorance is bliss in a way because when my eyes do not see and my ears do not hear, I do not need to care. So what if people are dying around me. As long as I live in my own little world, I don't need to know, don't need to care. Ignorance and bliss.
Yet, I cannot stop myself from the inherent need to seek truth? Truth in its pain. Truth that ignite even more questions and no concrete answers. Why do I still ask when I cannot get answers? Maybe it's because I know, that I can feign ignorance but I cannot escape truth.
Despite it all, there is one truth that bring bliss ever lasting. I truly do not know all the answers for the questions of this world. Neither will I even attempt to claim I can make a difference in this chaotic world.
But I know He who can make the difference. The one that proclaimed, "I am the way the truth and the life. No one comes to the father but through me." For governments will rise and fall. Leaders will come and go. Babies are born and people die. But there is one and only one perfect government, with one perfect leader, Jesus.
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| TRANSITIONS, SIGH....
It is often arduous to wait for transits on airplane flights. You know you will only be there for a moment, and you have another destination to get to but you have to transit regardless.
Life is a big succession of transits. I feel it so acutely when I am back in Labuan. Sometimes I do not really know where I belong anymore. Apart from my family (which is the most important people to me on earth), there is not much feeling of belonging here in Labuan anymore.
Friends whom I laughed and survived teenage life with me are now all over the Malaysia and overseas. If our holidays meet, then I would be lucky enough to catch up with some of them. Yet, it feels so different because our lives have evolved with the demands of individual challenges and environments. Of course they are still so very dear to me. But I can~{!/~}t help but feel the change in our friendships.
Old friends yet, strangers in another way. They don~{!/~}t know my experiences; the joys and pains of life in IMU, but neither do I know about their celebrations or heartaches. So unlike the good old days where everyone faced PMR together, got driving licenses within months of each other and tasted life in its sweetness and bitterness together. Although we can laugh and share together when we meet again, it~{!/~}s somehow transited.
But it does not make me belong to KL either. When I am back in this small island, inevitably I do lose threads of bonds (albeit minute) with my friends too. I am not there even as my friend lays in UH, hospitalized from an accident. Neither am I there to talk or be there for my other friends. And when term starts, I will have to catch up with them all over again.
And I shudder to think that in a year~{!/~}s time, I will be in transition again as my friends~{!/~} paths and I diverge. People I have come to trust, people I have shared my deepest feelings, people who know my most embarrassing moments and accept me regardless. If given a choice, I will not choose to start all over again.
Just as I have begin to feel comfortable at IMU, fit in at CF, love my CG, enjoy my church and discover my avenues of service and the deep bonds with my friends, I will have to leave it all soon. And learn again to adjust, to fall down, to get up and to walk again. Only to transit again. And again. As I float on the river of life. It~{!/~}s no wonder why humans crave security.
I wonder if this is the reason why I feel the pressing need to share my life with that someone, him. For no matter how deep friendship ties are built, circumstances can force farewells. My reasoning that at least he will be there for better or for worse, even despite transitions. At least he will know me. And I will know him. Best friends under the vow of eternity. For sometimes it is tiring and sad to know people well and for them to know us well, only to have everything changed by transitions.
Yet I am reminded that even when I have met that someone, transitions will happen too. He might meet the Maker before me. And realistically neither is such love immune to transitions.
But what will life be without transitions? After all isn~{!/~}t it transitions that bring new beginnings to enrich our lives so much so that we don~{!/~}t want another transition to take place? If I never transited from secondary school in all its fun moments, I~{!/~}d never experience university and its rich impact on my life.
Again, transitions also draw us closer to the One who~{!/~}ll never transit from our lives. Yes, I will have to make new friends, new relationships over and over again. But, Pa, thank you for my relationship with you is never just a transit. You have known me from my first cry and you will still know me to my last breath.
Your love is also not buoyed by the transits of life. For is there anything on heaven or on earth that can separate me from your love? Can nakedness, hunger, imprisonment, persecution or even the uncertainty of transitions separate me from you? No! And I am comforted that despite all the transitions in life, one day it will cease when I transit to my eternal home, with You. But even as I am living in life~{!/~}s transitions, Lord keep me close so that I will never transit away from your love.
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