Republic of Malaysia | International Campaigns Resources

Rubbish on My Face 2

The story travels with Politics. I traveled that day from a Middle East airport’s, and after a 45 minutes transit. Time, crossing the west to the east usually takes more than a day from London. Its tiring and exhausted. As I hit the seat and tried to swallow all those irritating moments at the transits. Traveling alone is sometimes bored. Qatar airport’s offered less options for smokers, almost none. The people you will meet are different compared to those passengers and crowds that you had just shared in the earlier flights in the west. Its the beginning of the new frontiers. As been observed, people were those whom maybe they just had returned from the war in the gulf. Rubbish. Quickly I puffed that Spanish little cigars thrown to me in the hotel room by that new acquaintance, a French before I leave the hotel. The smokes doesn’t help afloat, A gypsy-looking girl, maybe she just returning from the easterns happy holidays’ rushed out of the smoking chamber, frantically shouted that the Arabs wants to kill us. Lesson 1

So I pouched sat on the chair properly, as not to disturb the privacy of the neighbor. I knew that my neighbor passenger was Malaysian too. I don’t bother to say hello. Just too tired and tried to sleep. He did not sleep. He was busy with the headphones, the seating gears and positions, the food, and his jacket, and toying the plane window shutter. Up down, up down, allowing the bright lights of the morning glares entering his eyes. I tried to sleep. Soon, I saw the airport KLIA. My heart beats faster because I had missed the actions. I missed the boats. I missed to cast vote’s. Touched down, I then gestured the “next-man” and said goodbye. He asked what I do for a living. I said I do what I am supposed to do for which his I don’t do. I know he got agitated. He said that he has been digging in Africa. I replied, how many children you have now in Africa. None, he replied, but I have been digging mines for minerals. I yawned. I am tired of listening stories of Malaysian business in air, before they step their feet on the real world. Hundreds of them I met. Rubbish. I asked, then..why you stay in Malaysia when no one is to look after the minerals business in Africa. He replied, what can I do, I have to survive when there is no more minerals of the type that he wanted, is no more available in Malaysia, and his African wife is there to look after his minerals if he were to travels home. And exaggerated of how he is so happy for being lucky not to involve in the elections episode and not involve at all with selection of the leadership. I say none, but waved good luck. But, just before he touched my shoulder to pick up his luggage from the compartment, I stopped him from rushing up, and lend a hand to pick it up. Yeahh..quite heavy though, like having some rocks in it. I can understand. And passed a remark, do you have a past in Malaysia..Fine. At the arrival’s exits doors, I saw him cuddling a woman whom is much less older than him and they drove off. Lesson 2

My 2 small children arrived with my relatives and the helpers. We had missed the mother for almost two years. She’s gone. This trip, had made the children don’t recognize me after that 45 days. Drastic changes after that winter maybe, usually I go to those holiday makers sunny hot spots. At my wave, the brother ran to me and jumped as immediately whispered to my ears that he missed me as the younger sister waited for me to open my arm for her. We all hugged. As I drove off, the boy told me that the TV is gone, no picture. Indeed, at home I realized that..how nice it is, to have a “RadioTV ” at home, that makes me start writing. Blogs. Blogs. YouTubes. Sex pictures and pornography links. Nice to see all those private parts of those human, wanting to be touched and to be sold. Desires and wants. My stomach’s pinching and moves. My heart beats quicker, much more than the time when I want to land at the airport. My organs stretching. I am human. But what can i do, being alone, no wife. Its crazy to see, many had wrote in Blogs. Many notices, warnings and guidelines were placed in the webs, but Rubbish, many don’t read. I received one comment from a Sarawak lady friend, she said that my English is terrible. I replied that this is all I can afford and not to edit or “copy catting”. I also read blogs with vulgar words, with reason to condemn the leaders who had turned 1 kilometer class D road’s into a 1 kilometer of one million ringgit valuable road, that bring their children to many places around this country,..they blogs and wrote as though they are brothers or room mates at high schools, blogging from the inside of the toilet, or from the zoo. Lesson 3

As I go through another laptop that I have for my little children, placed at the hall, I browsed through checkings whether they had those pornographic links. Ahah, maybe its alright for that 6 years old boy to learn, I thought. He has desires. I don’t mind, what can I do to stop them other than not to buy the LTs in the first place. The browser history were clear, thanks to super power control Family Safety program that comes with the softwares package. I enjoyed the cartoon channels with my little girl later, accidentally the porno cartoon appeared. I don’t understand. I walked off to the window. My girl walked off too. Because she wanted to climb on me at the window. As i look over, I don’t know whether that was the cloud or the haze across the hill towards KL and Genting Highlands. Everything, all looked similar nowadays. I closed the window. I don’t want to check further. I don’t understand. Lesson 4.

I saw blogs. Political write ups on Mahathir, his son, Hishamuddin, Badawi, his son in law, Najib, his late father. I scan through in less than 10 minutes. I don’t understand. I see them as a loser who trying hard to vacate the Sullivans in their pocket. But that’s their job isn’t it. I don’t understand. Or I pretended not to want to understand. Lesson 5.

I am writing now. I just had finished talking to my overseas’ banker on matters pertaining to the management of the accounts from one end transfers to another. Amazing, that the communications and medias had ruled our life so much that, finally when we got a chance to be able to talk with a real human helper, to complete some transactions, without the assistance of those alive inter-linkings websites tools and buttons; preset in their expensive business platforms. Not much to transact, but in comparing those 10 minutes at Qatar smoking chamber, 10 minutes at the airport’s arrivals gate, 10 minutes at internet browser, 10 minutes standing at the apartment windows, and 10 minutes on the local politics – I actually had spent more time unrealized – an hour talking to that banks’ counselor at my own cost, acrossed the continents, what a cheap “entertainment” on the phone, talking with right notes, with good tone, when we were made comfortable by someone on the other side of the world. Surprisingly, how nice it is to talk maturely with a well educated “afterall” an English speaking native lady who can understand my terrible English language, when we are far and when they realized that we are paying for them to pay attention on us. Suddenly we had just stopped and felt a good feeling towards each other, that over the phone. I can’t really see the rubbish bins under her desk. Because we were on the phone.

Thats all life’s got to take to make one’s a life. This is the second part of the rubbish that I have to face and hoping that there will be no more.

I write this in appreciations to Pak Ya of London’s MSD in Kedah, Pak Syed in W2, Abbey in HSBC London, to Ganesh of HSBC KL, Tania in Queensway, Amril in MSD, Pam in Notthm, Takishi, Takamura and Naoko in Japan, Fawad in W2, the Morroccons, Spanish, American, Israels, aggggghhh…..all all of them, and all my life’s supporters who had made this life as a single father as beautiful as a proper rubbish bins, that’s cleaned from time to time, especially to my beautiful helpers who had been along time, taking care of my childrens needs and my dislikes.

To my late father and late mother who had made me chose this path. I am still here, looking after the children ma..

To Mother

Ma..Abah..I had walked through this garden of angels and

floating on this rightful paths of my life

As though there is no willful of others to blast the last blasts

to deny the Rain drops that may drop on the gate of my garden angels

Breezing Cool lust and tender cuddling the nights in this bountiful heavens

Wishing the snows will fall in my garden here in my garden

Where shall I be imminent to caress the joy and laughter

as a human

Open their eyes and ears make them realize

I am the bountiful angels had arrived

In the garden of heaven in heavenly heavenly twice

Let the wind blows whisper to their ears and sprinkles the lust

If ever I…..

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