Edit: :)

Hormones. Definitely.

:)

:)

On a recent trip, I realized suddenly that I might love someone. My first reactions included

Shit.What? Oh, dear.

Hehe.

…among other things, but those were the main ones, and mostly in that order. Maybe it’s the result of several intense talks with the IS-ers about love, but for the first time, I’m quite nonplussed about it. Happy, yes, but I’m not overworking my brain about what to do next, simply because I already know the answer.

Nothing, of course.

There are many reasons. First of all, this could just be PMS talking, in which case I’d be feeling quite incredulous at myself in a few days. On the other hand, if this is really true, then I certainly am not going to mess anything up by expecting some radical realization on his part. (though it’d be nice if that did happen) Also, we are quite good friends, and I’m happy continuing to be so for the time being. He’s already seen some of the worst bits of my personality, so it’s perfectly acceptable not to expect some sort of miracle to happen here. I suppose I’ve had enough of the whole Love is blind concept, which, face it, is extremely detrimental to one’s mental health in the long run.

Yep. That’s about it. On a slight more fluffy note, hehehheee.

Looking Poverty in the Face.

Fieldwork has been a part of my internship ever since I began, starting with the SUHAKAM meeting and most recently, a trip to Kg. Gong, an Orang Asli village in Pahang. While the trips so far have been more than enlightening, as well as immensely fun – as in the case of Kg Changkuah in Tapah – this one put a more sombre light on things. I have always tried not to take things for granted, a result of my mother’s constant reminding of how lucky we are to be living in such abundance. However, I learned that simply imagining a deprivation of resources is not enough; living it is needed in order for us to fully appreciate what we have, or what we don’t.

After a successful trip to the hilly Kg Changkuah, where the air was fresh and water aplenty, walking into Kg Gong was like walking back into the desert after a stop in the oasis. The smell hit me as I walked towards the village, but perhaps it was simply the stuffiness and humidity of lowland forests that got to me. A few rickety houses dotted the clearing, with dogs and chickens running everywhere. It really wasn’t at all bad until we got around to bathing. Unlike the previous village, the water source for this one was the swamp, and that too was drying up because of the drought. The path to the bathing area was a precarious walk across skinny tree trunks and strategically placed planks of wood, which were enough for seasoned villagers to run on, but not urban visitors. I found myself grasping desperately at the overhanging branches, which, face it, if I did lose my balance, would have broken at the slightest tug. But it was all about the placebo effect of actually holding on to something, even if it was less than a hundredth of my weight. Lol. Behind me, a dog from the village trailed behind, waiting patiently for me to cross safely.

The bathing area was a piece of swamp no bigger than a shower cubicle. This was where the villagers bathed. The water was cloudy, as swamp water is wont to be, and unlike the river in Tapah that was brown with resin but ran clear when scooped up, I tried not to look too closely at the water that I was going to pour all over myself. In fact, I tried not to look at the water in general. It seems that the water quality was the least of the villagers’ problems. More likely, the drought had dried up most of the remaining water in the swamp, making it more like a waterlogged forest floor than an actual swamp.

Consequently, the shortage of water led to a number of illnesses among the community, the most common of whichwas the flu. By the way, did I mention that the villagers were losing their land? With even that gone, their source of income was dwindling, and subsequently they had no money for medicine. Common flu cases often escalated into more serious ailments, such as bronchitis. During my stay there, a toddler sneezed up a significant amount of green mucous, while a number of the other villagers had deep, chesty coughs. A few others also had scabies. Apparently I was lucky; another person on a previous trip actually saw a tapeworm come out through someone’s face. Or something to that effect.

Perhaps the biggest blow of this whole thing was that the few children who had been going to school had stopped altogether. I can’t say I blame them; they’re too busy trying to live as it is. And without a supply of electricity in the village, how would they study? It’s not as if they were lazy. From what I gathered, most Orang Asli choose to walk away rather than stand their ground. It’s not cowardice either, but just another concept of peace. Thus, when confronted with the harsher environment that is school, coupled with the almost inevitable discrimination, it’s no wonder school must not be the nicest place to be. Then again, after only two villages so far, I am hardly in the best place to make general statements.

Now that I’m home, though, I realize the fortune around me, and my own poverty as well.  I may have clean tap water, but not a river brimming with fresh, clear mountain water. TV and computer I may have, but not a clear night sky that shows all the stars that can ever be seen. I may have a (or be on my way to having) a formal education, but I cannot tell a rambai tree from a rambutan tree, nor animal tracks from human. And I will always  be unable to sit back and enjoy the simpler things in life, because I have a watch that dictates when I should do what I have to do at a certain place. Most of all, I will always need a fan or an air conditioner to cool the air because my brick house has no proper ventilation system that keeps the air cool  and fresh.

Who’s poor now?

A Beginning Among Beginnings

After several half-hearted attempts at reviving my blogging habit, I finally decided that, contrary to popular belief, a blog can indeed be a space for intelligent contemplations with witty (but not vulgar) remarks as testament to the author’s personality. However, I also acknowledge my own tendency to veer away from the mark, and will succumb to occasional emotional outbursts, which could be entertaining to read depending on the reader’s disposition.

So yes. I have started a blog. This one, to be exact.

Welcome.