Picture taken from "Wayang Fajar" Facebook.

Wayang Kulit or the shadow puppet is one of the oldest form of  traditional theater in this region. In a wayang kulit, the puppet master known as Tok Dalang will move the puppets behind a big white screen, telling stories commonly from the Mahabarata or Ramayana.  The shows will take place in open air with enough room for attentive audience to sit and enjoy the performance. To you folks who are of the MTV Gen, watching a wayang kulit performance beats all the Gorillaz ’s digital concert, anytime.

Wayang Fajar on the other hand, modernizes the concept. It is still a wayang but the white screen that is central to the wayang performance is just as active and dynamic as the actors themselves. In Wayang Fajar, the flat white screen consists of small blocks that will be moved from one spot to another, in harmony with the description and images depicted by the narrator. Experiencing the blocks transforming from one idea to another as it tells the story of Malaysia’s cultural and religious experiences that juxtaposes with State control or suppression is like watching Radiohead jamming with Satre. Suprisingly, as a conservative theater goer who is skeptical about post modernistic attempts in the performing arts world, I felt quiet at home with the broken narrative or non-linear plot of Wayang Fajar. My senses was guided throughout the performance by the images and meanings drawn from the movement of the blocks of screen and the interplay with lights that were flashed and colors that were splashed on the screen blocks.

The audience’s presence was not to merely experience the performance but to question Malaysian realities as the theater acts as a catalyst for self introspection. Wayang Fajar, in my view, tries to address the racial and religious complexities inherent in the life of Malaysians. And being Malaysians, we also have to endure State’s constant attempts at regulating our lives. The second scene presents  the main actor, Azmyl Yunor trying to narrate to the audience, his story, but was constantly questioned by the characters on his left and right on the “Malay-ness” and “Legality” of  the characters or actions in his story that it left him baffled and uncertain. How many times in our life have we gone through the same experience  that reinforces our racial identity and our unnecessary obedience to the State.  Isn’t that scene reflective of how in our own reality as Malaysians, the structures or symbols around us keep reminding us of who we are that we are conditioned into soulless robots who are confused with our own identities and beliefs.

“Malaysia is in Denial” seemed to be the anthem of the performance, too. The third scene, where a conversation between a taxi driver with a passenger terrified by a dying roach was flashed to the white screen, did not only reminded me of the intensity and mystery surrounding the Teoh Beng Hock’s incident but how the Malaysian government is handling the situation with annoying pretension with the hope, perhaps to normalize the impact of the tragedy on the rakyat.  Play with words like filth and sweat fed in my own disgust and anger with what that had happened. It’s a cool double speak approach, I must say.

Even more spot on is the Wayang’s next scene which to me is trying to suggest how government’s propaganda that Malaysia is a lovely harmonious country without any single problem has created a society that will forever be in denial over the actual socio-political realities in this country. So, don’t fall for Zedeck Siew ‘s girly expressions and excitements, pay attention to the contradicting narration as well. As he smiled and went through his Malaysian Dream life, the narration unfolds and visualizes incidents and happenings in the society that does not match the character’s burst of happiness. Oh, what a bunch of “in denial” sods we are!

Congratulations to Fahmi Fadzil for Wayang Fajar, He told me the next stop will be Wayang Siang. After dawn, are we going to see more hopes for a better Malaysia, die, or otherwise?

Human Rights is damn popular, she even has a stencilled Facebook.;)

The global political negotiation post WWII gave birth to a powerful but reluctant child, its name is  HUMAN RIGHTS. The intention was to address the aftermath of the war especially the atrocities that took the lives of many innocent civilians. But to reconcile ideological differences albeit preserving political interest is a mammoth task. The UDHR was a result of heavy duty compromise by the political blocks that some countries, that find the document could not in any way, reflect the ideals or interest of the States, chose to abstain from agreeing to the document. Human Rights was a difficult child to conceive but conceived at the right moment and time : zeitgeist!

But throughout the years, from 1948-2009, it matured into an attractive woman that captured the heart and soul of many suitors. She dazzled many and turn more than half of the world population into firm believers that mankind’ s hope and dreams for a just and better society is legitimate.She urge for free and compulsory education for children, she is firm on the equal rights of men and women to work and vote, she is passionate about justice for vulnerable groups in the society; the indigenous community, refugees, asylum seekers, victims of trafficking or homeless people. She is the voice of the oppressed.

But of course, many  had also manipulated her. She was used to justify the actions of warmongers to invade other countries’ s sovereignty. She was offered as the reason to detain persons indefinitely, to verify political and economic sanctions and ironically to liberate the market under the proud banner of freedom.  Yes, she was a difficult child to conceive and yes, she is at the moment, a vulnerable woman at the greedy hands of people with political agendas. People who knows that she could help them to achieve power and wealth.

Human Rights, being an attractive woman with the mission to save the world, has inspired many to associate and mobilize.  Human Rights movements calling for the end to torture, cruel and inhuman punishments or for the rights of women and children blossomed around the world because people are aspired by the values and ideals that she promoted.  There are of course, her other reluctant counterparts such as Religion and Culture, that can be her strong pillars to grow and progress in some places or in many sad instances, tyrants that dictate her soul and mind.

In the late 90s, words spread around over the new creation of institutions that will function under her name. These institutions will continue to promote and protect human rights at the domestic level. There were also attempts to evaluate how she has helped countries tackled their internal conflicts or protect and promote her within their boundaries. People, undeniably  is in love with her but at the same time, grew suspicious over her power and fame.

Human Rights made close friends in almost all the regions.  A very small group of honest people who see her as the savior of the day, set up regional bodies for her to operate. They come together, amid resistance from her foes and skeptics, to held States accountable and responsible for issues such as poverty and discrimination. But still, the bad and ugly are able to infiltrate and work their agenda even within this circle of trust dedicated to her. She was constantly involved in unwarranted battles  due to conservatism, power struggle or plain ignorance.

Little did Human Rights know that honesty can be a traitorous mask that conceal some of the dirtiest strategies to secure power and influence. Before long, she was an object of desire because  her beauty and wealth can serve the interest of some people. Before long, she become a marketable entity, the sought after super model for commercial photo shoots. She was lost, manipulated and in that long winded journey, abused and raped repeatedly. People who claimed that they know her more than the others, people who believed they can buy her with money, occupied territories, United Nations votes or  diplomacy speeches take her as an opportunity for neo-colonialism,  attractive career development or in worst case scenario,  a great pension scheme. She became a lonely woman in her fight for democracy and justice. She did meet people who genuinely work for her cause in her laborious struggle, but the powerful and wealthy will always be around the corner, defeating the defenseless advocate of human rights every day.

So, 10th December not only commemorate the birth of  a child who aspire to bring peace and hope to the world. Nor was she merely born to end the misery of the    people. She was also viewed as an emerging threat, the rebellious child that should be ostracized and killed. At the moment, she is dying due to the terminal impact of social prejudice like racism  and political disease such as corruption.

So, Happy Birthday Human Rights. May you recover and be well on your feet again. I wish not to see you on your death bed, the next time they celebrate your birthday.

The controversial equation, almost as controversial as Darwin's Origin of Species.

She is always difficult to dress. This small kid named Safra. You think as the Mother, which means in the family hierarchy, you are no.2, right under The Dad, you would have a certain level of authority in common parenting areas such as choosing the cloths for your two and four months old kid. But not with this little diva. Safra chooses her own cloths. And you think you can force that green t-shirt through her head and she would bow to your demands? Sorry, but that does not happen. The last time I checked, when I imposed my selection of cloths of the day on her, she staged a household protest and run from the living room to the kitchen in her diapers while evading my order for her to surrender to the authorities  and get dressed immediately.

So, this afternoon was a bit of a hectic time for us as I was trying to facilitate her dress selection. She fell into a dilemma in choosing the best outfit for her to go out with The Dad. But isn’t that too soon to be in such a trivial dilemma? I remembered so well when I was her age, I was  this obedient fashion-blind toddler that would put up with my mom’s fancy taste ALL the time. I had experienced the common childhood fashion faux pas – from the huge mistake of being too lacy that I could pass as a Victoria Secret collection to the  outright loud Christmas Tree.

For  Safra,  the choice now is  narrowed down to the yellow spongebob tee and that bedazzled GUESS t-shirt.  But she seemed lost today. She just hold both cloths and ran around in the room as if by getting dizzy, her perspective would be better.

I finally play the role of the authoritative mom and took out the gown I bought for her from my recent trip to London. It’s a sleeveless cotton summer dress decorated with red and purplish floral patterns. The  short brown cardigan that matched the gown was made of synthetic fur.  I thought the dress would suit Safra’s taste in terms of color and style. I also think that she would be sweet in that  dress that  I took the t-shirts from her hand and replace it with the dress.  She held the dress  for a second while rubbing the cardigan to her cheek.  As soon as her inspection of the dress ended, she threw the dress casually to the floor and shook her head. Her rejection of the dress was supported by the following  hilarious observation:

“MACAM AYAM”.

Piero Manzoni's Shit!

In 1961, Piero Manzoni, an artist well known for his ironic and conceptual artworks, created 90 small cans, called Merda d’Artista or the Artist’s Shit. His work, each weighed at 30 gramme was priced based on the value of gold in market. It was actually a joke on the art market, a mockery on how art is being valued, the commodification or commercialization of art despite how gross or shitty can the art be. Actually, no one can tell for sure whether it was really Manzoni ’s crap in those cans. Because to break open the cans just so that the mass’s curiosity can be satisfied would, as some commented, destroy the ecstatic value of the artwork.

Meanwhile…in 2009, a 2 year old  toddler sat diligently in the living room of her home, facing her Doodle Pro, thinking of something wonderful to doodle. Then,  she  got a brilliant  idea and start doodling.

Her mom, after having a tough time battling the weeds at the front lawn, entered the house victoriously but of course, smelling of grass and mud, only to find her sweet daughter indulging herself in the fine art of doodling.

“Apa ni sayang?” The mom asked. She has high hopes for her girl. A fashion designer, an artist, an architect, a photojournalist…whatever the little girl fancy. The little girl looked up and answered loudly,

“Taik!”

The mom gave out a nervous laugh and  looked closer at the doodled poops. All in neat rows.

“Telur ayam kot, Safra,” Being the mom means rationalizing situations or bringing the proper context of life to your child. Those neat rows of “stuff” could pass as neat rows of mutated chicken eggs.   But, apparently, there’s nothing to rationalize or contextualize. A poop is a poop. Deal with it, Gee.

“Taik”.

She repeated her answer more adamant than before. So, without losing anymore time, I snapped a photo of the doodled poop and Warhol-ed it to make it more accessible and “pop’.

So, my kid is into art but instead of Picasso, she opts for Manzoni!

Enjoy the piece of crap!

I am leaving and that is absolutely final. The Tiffany’s diamond studded bracelet or that Marc Jacob’s purse will not blind me[1]. I have some significant amount of dignity and integrity. Heh.

And I am leaving at the most exciting point of my career. I was just promoted to a senior position a year ago. I finally get people to listen to me to a certain extent. And oh! my organization retain its “A” status..isn’t that a great news? I bet the civil society is utterly upset with the news. I bet John Liu is at the moment at the barber, getting a haircut for losing a bet to his colleagues. By the rate and performance of my organization in the last 10 years, a perfect mark seemed dubious and outrageous. But being the skeptic that I am, I honestly don’t care about what kind of grade my organization be getting especially if the accreditation is done by some international body abroad that never really understand the work and real challenges that we have to endure on the ground. Let ICC give us B or C and we lose our voice in UN Meetings. The ‘A” that I would rather have and be proud of is the “A” that the Malaysians gave us – the poor community, the civilians beaten by the Police or the abused mothers and children.

So, after finally, making the courageous decision of leaving this organization, I think, at least I should wrote on some of the most poignant and significant events, incidents and people that have made my stay bearable, fantastic and perhaps a nightmare to a certain extent. So, here’s to five years of living it rough and rock n’ rolling in SUHAKAM:

Best Female Supporting In Drama, Comedy or Near Death Experience….This award has to be given to our Lady Sekinchan. She is a hot sassy sidekick that at times, dominates the scene and took more still photos for the SUHAKAM movies than any of us. Like any typical but of course fascinating diva, NEVER ever mentioned her hometown to outsiders. Just keep it to Shah Alam and you will be in her good book.

Best scenes:

The action packed chase in Kelantan to reach the Thai boundary before the rice smuggler, the Flora Cinta soulful rendition at RedBox and the terror of a certain men’s wrong parking syndrome, the destruction of the toilet bowl in a kung fu scene in Puchong and the slow friendship walk to Commuter or LRT (this is where we insert the audience track of ‘Ahhhhhh”)

 Best One Liner:

Ko ni…..(fill in the blanks with any possible follow up line).

Best Female Supporting the Supporting Actress in Drama, Comedy or Near Death Experience……goes to our own Miss Z! She’s sexy with a capital S; she’s the right hand woman to the mafia family. She is the only female actress in a full semi clothed frontal scene at a public bath house in…..Korea! Yup, the budget for her movie, “Don’t Cry for Me Kwang-Ju” was huge that they have real scenes in Korea rather than in some dodgy photo studio in Jalan Raja Laut with artificial sakura flowers. She is also very generous with her sexy shoulders that the lead actress[2] will always be leaning on her shoulder during those teary scenes. Sniff. And owh, she has this vanilla on hot brownie effect on the lead actress as well- warm and sweet.

Best scenes: The 30^th Floor Lounge Private Maggie Lunch, the scandalous recording of video clip for Lady Sekinchan’s birthday, the scene where the lead actress sought refuge at her Block Four mansion in Vista La’Angkasa and

of course, the scene in Korea. Hehe.

Best One Liner:

Go, Go Brazil..! Ouch!

 Best Male Supporting in whatever scene imaginable… Only one man can get this award, seriously. Because to be the best male supporting, you have to have curly Brylcreamed hair, skin tight shirt even if that means exposing your extra “assets”, lots of hair and some complicated family line so that you are exotic AND quirky at the same time. You are the reincarnation of Rajinikanth! Plus you have to be a bit edgy so that the lead actress can be seen as the most rationale and sane being in the film, so that means you have to be a social awkward. But of course, you also have to be the one person that could have that intellectual and psychological connection with the lead actress and that is a pretty tough job because the lead actress has multiple personalities. Hence, the award has to go to Mr. Mamak Mod.

Best scenes: “The breakfast, the lunch and the tea”, the valium induced 5 hour chat, the Singapore breakaway, the burping moments, the “Chunking Express KTM version”,  the amazing race from tasek perdana to KL Sentral and a few hundreds more.

Best One Liner:

Nak B?…see how deep is his one liner?

 Best Villain…The Academy has many nominees for this particular award. However, after much arguments and deliberations, they had decided that this award will go to Miss Hockey Socks. She is so good in her role that her performance beat Broadway, Bangsawan, Bollywood movie and Indonesian Sinetron. As the best villain, this means the ability to escape from being caught for her evil plan easily. Too easy that sometimes it only require a call AND a supply of fake tears. Boo!

Best scenes: The academy agreed that the villain‘s scenes are too memorable, annoying and mentally challenging (not challenged) even for adults below thirty. Hence, the academy agreed that she is to remain under house arrest until she can speak English fluently.

Best One Liner:

What do you mean the best one liner? She can even annoy us by blinking her eyes. Sheesh.

Best Comedian/Slacker/Any other marginalized characters… The tie breaker is between the short internationalist and the I.T man.  The short internationalist excels at dark comedy whereas the I.T man is a pro with slapstick jokes. One thing they share in common- both comes from Kelantan. I guess Kelantan does produce quality clowns. Hehe.

 Best By-stander (but still doing something productive in the process)…This has to be Ibrahim. Though Kak Yati is a strong contender since she says more dialogue than Ibrahim but I still give the award to Ibrahim because his Nescafe or Milo rocks. And yes, he works at the Tingkat 3 Café, Jln Raja Laut’s equation to Central Perk.

Best One Liner: Ok? (As he point to the coffee he just served me with). When you make kick ass coffee, OK can go really far.

 Best Cinematography…Kedai Roti Santa (KRS) and Tingkat 3 Café. Both locations offer great cinematography that makes Paris and Prague seemed lame. KRS for instance, is a very challenging set because the temperature of the place equals to a burning oven. Tingkat 3 Café, even if it does not have the same temperature as KRS, the shop can still burn your pocket if not your body.

 Best Special Effect… Khairy’s animated and consistent burp earned the award. It does not need the THX support as the sound of his burp is loud enough to be noticed at about two blocks away.

 Best Original Screenplay…The winner will be none other than that edgy scene where a certain lady character stormed into an old police station in a small town, showing her name tag and shouted, “ Sa..sa…sa…ya (insert her position), saya nak pergi tandas!”. The nerve that she had to withstand the unbearable threat of her full bladder by explaining her fancy designation to some small town police officers. Hahaha!

Best Wardrobe and Make-Up… Best Wardrobe has to go to the former chief of international scandals. Her net stockings can make you guys go weak on the knees. I mean her dresses are damn sharp that it could cut your flesh. As for make-up, the deserving winner is not here to receive the winner as she is at the moment continuing her study in “Human Rights & the Art of Make up” at Nottingham University, Semenyih…eh…I mean United Kingdom.

Best Horror Scene…This particular award should go to the time when my former division organized a human rights training for posh students from the Petaling Jaya area at the rundown Multimedia Hostel and Education Centre. First, the aircond in the boys’ hostel stopped working. Secondly, the kids got rashes because of the heat and later on, I have to spend the night taking care of the boys whom some of them wanted to call their parents and fetch them from the hostel immediately!  Spoiled Brat!

This scene however ties with another scary scene from the “Expedition to Kampung Orang Asli di Bidor” where the lead actress and her short term sidekick had to ride the bike with orang asli climbing the steep hills of the palm oil plantation in order to get to one of the villages. What Raiders of the Lost Ark? We were only clad in our old jeans and tees and survived the ride with just butt sore. Hehe.

 Best Art Direction…Kuala Medang Military Training bags the award! It is the ONLY big outing for the whole SHKM crew that involves a small village, an oil palm plantation and some deadly war game that left the female supporting of the supporting actor blinded by acidic flour mix.  It also involved suspenseful scenes behind the oil palm trunk and wet bushes where a certain actress gives away her hideout by kneeling behind the bushes with her ass in the air. I am not telling who, of course!

 Best Action  Scene…The evening ping pong games in the Inquiry Room are probably the most intense moment of the day at the Commission, if there are no memorandums sent in, though. Two ping pong enthusiasts- one based on the same level as the Inquiry Room, and another one, at a lower level, would sneak into the Inquiry Room and assemble the ping pong table in just a few seconds. Then, the action began. You could see ping pong balls flying everywhere with the chance of hitting the ceiling 2:1, players sweating their work cloths or in extreme cases, silky baju kurung and then, when the Godfather of Ping Pong Ken, enters the room, everyone just bowed in his presence and stood still. Awesome noir film material.

 Best Film Prop…I have to say it’s the umbrella. As I served the Commission for five years, I have been under various sorts of umbrellas with different people. There’s the black sober ones, the fancy ones with sponge bob and other animation characters. Well, call me the umbrella swinger. Many revelations and important conversations took place under the umbrella as well. The spicy gossips, the bad or good news too. But the umbrella shone in its role when the characters under it did not say a single word and just braved through the heavy rain while gripping the umbrella tight.

 Best Newcomer…The Best Newcomer has to be Megs-the Metal Boy. He seemed normal and dull but, once he puts those fingers of his to good use- and before you guys guessed wrongly- on his seven string guitar, ok? he will be making some serious riffs, befitting his position as a member of a metal band.

These are some of the awards that I was able to give away before I make the final exit. There might be some folks left out from the list but maybe that’s because I cannot acknowledge every single memory and encounter I made during my stay in SUHAKAM because there are too many and too special as well. So, to my best buddies that are still rock n’ rolling in the Commission, continue to kick ass, I love you guys! J

[2] Lead Actress = moi.

I find this ad very interesting and cool. But how cool is the message behind the ad?

I love the idea of being recognized as a cool person. Who doesn’t?

Nerds and geeks are cool by circumstances and Hollywood movies. Groupies are cool by affliation ( or maybe WHO they spend the night with). Jamie Oliver is cool because he cooks in Converse. Dirty Converse. So, everybody is hitting the cool-o-meter big time. Except in some instances, that is. The “cool” label comes with a certain form of expectation and these instances make me reconsider my first statement all the time.

“Oh shhushhh, Mr.Skema is on his way here,” A friend whispered to me at a recent function. I looked behind and saw another friend, good looking as usual in his formal square attire. I raised my eyebrow. “And he’s Mr. Skema because..” I tried to understand her logic. Then, she gave a long lecture about his conservative view on sex before marriage  and yet, he is not a Muslim. Ah. The usual “you’re not liberal” type. “But, H, he has a clean track record of work and not some corrupt fella.. I think I can leave with the fact that he is not comfortable with sex before marriage”.

Another interesting story shared by a close friend is when she was invited for a dinner with some none Muslims. We normally do not mind people drinking alcohol at our table during any kind of meal unless we are forced to drink as well. And of course, none of our none Muslim friends ever pushed my face to a Carlsberg tin and demanded me to finish it or else, 1Malaysia will be at stake.  Never. But the twist to this story is this. As wine is served to everyone and my close friend politely decline her glass of wine, the people around the table went “oohh, ahhh” and said, “so…you don’t drink TODAY because you are wearing hijab?”. And the fact is my friend did not drink alcohol, with or without her cloths, even. But she understood the response to her not drinking and the expectation of her drinking alcohol is derived from the fact that she is a very progressive Muslim woman. I do not know if her cool-o-meter hit the freezing negative that day but in my own list of  unsung cool people, she gets a fiery 100.

Is it hard to be co0l if you are a devout believer?  Not that it is the sole aim of my life to be the cat’s pajamas, but I don’t mind the affliation except if I have to prove that I do things that fits the society’s idea of “coolness”. Like the “Gadis Melayu Show”, should the guideline  to be crowned aS “Gadis Melayu” legalised, me and some of my other friends would be the first ones prosecuted.  

Perhaps being “cool”  in my dictionary means the ability to stand up to what you believe in even if you are in the minority. It may mean staying at home, watching re-runs when the world point its figurative finger to you and said

“You are so not cool”.

Remember those high heels that you like to wear on your small 4 year old feet despite your mom’s warning not to touch her shoes? I remembered when my mom said I was not to wear high heels until I am 30; I would sulk and reluctantly returned those tempting high heels to her. I must have wished that I will wake up a 30 year old woman the next day. I also remembered my mom telling me to wait and be patient. The time will come.

Obviously, patience is not a virtue compatible with my concept of “fun” at that time.

And now, after entering the age 30, I had totally forgotten my childhood obsession with high heels. You can find pumps, mary janes or sneakers in my collection but not a single pair of high heels. I guessed the long wait had changed my sense of preference. I realized I am better off with low comfortable shoes.

We all have to endure a bit of those waiting periods, it seems. We, of course, hate waiting. Let us be waited upon. Hear, hear. But don’t make us do the waiting.

And it’d not just waiting for that perfect moment when our shoes fit, either. We wait in anticipation for a lot of things in life. My life for instance, was like a faulty roller coaster. It is damn fast with the possibility of crashing, anytime. Waiting makes me nervous. Compared to waiting as a kid and now, a full grown woman, I’d go back to anticipating the day I’d wear those high heels any day. But now, I have to put up with a lot of waiting. Waiting for my bosses to resign because they are a nightmare to work with, waiting for that  simple meal in an almost empty restaurant that has more than 10 waiters with nothing to do, waiting for the next election…no wonder there is a saying in Malay that describe the agony and even perhaps the futility of waiting ; “menanti buah yang tak gugur”.

My current unwanted “fling” with the black dog would be another landmark waiting experience in my life. That, I think will now lead the list of “things Gee have to wait for”, before item “soul mate”. My battle with anxiety and depression is getting the better of me that I finally agreed to get help. I want to recover. But recovery is a long way to go. And that will require me to cope with the long journey.

Coping and waiting. Two things I am bad at but now, my tools to stay sane.

This time around, waiting means self acceptance and recovery.

At the end of the road, there is no pair of high heels, fat paycheck or a handsome knight in shining armour.

I only see myself. Looking a lot better than I am now.

That’s a worthier wait, I guess.

Note : Picture taken from this website.

I came to learn of Dr. Mohd Asri Zainal Abidin’s arrest by JAIS from my male confidante during our chat yesterday. I immediately surfed the net for more information. I wanted to know why we are reviving back the olden culture of  persecuting Islamic scholars. My brief research stint led to a few reasons- each one just as dubious as the other.

One-he is an uncertified Mufti who at the moment is worryingly spreading Wahhabism among elites and university students through his lectures. Two- the authorities had this fear that his activities will further divide the ummah in Malaysia especially since Malaysia’s Muslim community is practicing Sunnnah Wal-Jamaah. Three-this was also the direct implication of his refusal to accept the offer to head YADIM and the subsequent protest from the Islamic NGOs over the offer. Four- Dr. Asri is a stubborn lad. He had issued opinions that some found are controversial and unwarranted for. He stood up for the right to privacy on the issue of  “tangkap khalwat”. He criticized on how the “Kursus Perkahwinan” is not up to the mark or how “Kursus Haji” are profit-oriented. He spoke his mind on yoga and the use of Allah in Bible  and also had the nerve to question the need for the Fatwa Council to convene and discuss trivial issues like the use of decorative henna paint on the hand.

In short, he was just doing his job.

On the other hand, the Selangor Exco is under fire again and they claimed that Islamic matter is certainly not under their jurisdiction or purview. The action by JAIS and MAIS is beyond their control.

So, my question is; what’s the problem if  he is a  Wahhabi?

This brings me to the infamous list of cults and deviant teachings banned in Malaysia. Let me share my observation on how Shi’ah is treated in the country and relate it to Dr. Asri’s arrest.

If you check the JAKIM’s Gazetted List of “Ajaran Sesat”, you will realize that Shi’ah is also on the list, amusingly in the same league with Ajaran Anak Rimau and Ayah Pin.  (There are a few Tarekat on the list as well, that my friends who I believe are more learned than me in this area has over the years qualified as not “sesat” but merely a result of diversity in approach.)

But then, I realized how we are selective in the ways we responded to school of thoughts other than Sunni. Check out this simple example – During a public rally opposing Israel’s aggression in Lebanon, I find it amusing, to see posters of  Hassan Nasrallah, leader of the Hezbollah party, being paraded by the demonstrators. It seems to me that we eventually are able to brush aside our differences and lend our support to our Muslim brothers and sisters in Lebanon during that conflict.

THAT or maybe we did not know  Nasrallah is a Shi’ite.

We also forget, I guess, when we arrest Dr. Mohd Asri, that we also send Malaysians to perform their hajj in a country that approved and adopt Wahabism (read: Saudi Arabia).  As much as we claim that these examples do not implicate our internal policies or approach to Islam, but did it not reflect poorly on our  worldview  that diversity of Islamic thoughts and sects would divide the ummah and in the end, threaten national security and social harmony?

The thing is in Malaysia, it isn’t the flourishing of Wahhabism or Shi’ah sect that divide us. We have institutionalized racism and unjust distribution of wealth to thank for. We need not go through all the drama and arrest a scholar to manifest our commitment to national unity of the ummah. We also have people who trade religion to preserve political interest or maintain status quo. Politicians, who would not think twice to perform ablution in front of the camera for cheap publicities or undertake the swearing ceremony to prove their innocence…well, albeit a reluctant Imam.  Wouldn’t these characters be more detrimental to our efforts towards  a better understanding and appreciation of Islam in the society?

I think what the system feared the most about Dr. Asri is that he is a non-conformist. A rebel, who if not silenced, will further challenge the structure. One of those mice that when asked by its leader whether it would volunteer to tie the bell around the cat’s neck, would most probably answered, “lets implant a nano GPS in his tail so that we could track his whereabout”.

As our wealth of Sirah has illustrated, it is easier to burn bridges, to let blood be drawn or tears be shed because of our different thoughts, ideas and understanding of our religion. Islam is dynamic and time has changed. Must we still succumb ourselves to ignorance, power and ego?

If he is uncertified, tell us how did he become the Mufti of Perlis in the first place? By way of a religious Big Bang? If the allegation is true, wouldn’t such allegation reflect poorly on how our religious institutions are managing its affairs?

Lesson that I learned from this incident, as a Muslimah and also a mother is the urgent need for us to start recognizing that there is no such thing as 1ISLAM but only ISLAM.  As we embrace universality in the ways we conduct our political, social and economic affairs at the local level, we also need to open our eyes and mind to diversity. I don’t want my only daughter to grow up a dogmatist as she witnessed Islamic scholars, whose intellectual and freedom of thought are being stifled without further dialogues or debates in a healthy democratic forum, that will greatly benefit the people.

We have enough of religion extremism in the world today. We have enough. So, please put off the fire and rebuilt from whatever left from the ashes of hatred.

*Picture taken from this blog .

My trip to UK recently opened my eyes to the dull and dry but never unimportant role of a Law Commission. People working in the Human Rights Commission, raised your hand in the air or do the boogie. Our work in the Commission is fortunately more colorful, I think.

Organized by an international based English charity, Public Administration International or PAi, the organization focuses on providing capacity building and consultancy services to Commonwealth countries in areas of good governance, participatory democracy and human rights. The workshop I attended was called “Successful Reform in Law” where law reform agencies such as my organization, Law Commission, parliamentary caucuses and judiciary were exposed to skills and processes that may be effective and useful to the work that we are undertaking. It was not a matter as complicated as the Franklin Square for me to decipher that the agenda of the programme is to advocate for the establishment of a Law Commission in countries without one. However, the less helpful part of the programme is the lack of recognition of law reform work done by existing structures within the countries of the participants such as governmental agencies like the attorney general’s chambers or even perhaps, the NHRIs. Hence, the constant reference and exemplification to the Law Commission modules especially the ones established in the African continent sometimes left me slightly baffled or out of touch with the fast flow of information during our study groups.

Before I start sounding like some envious inglorious member of the legal fraternity, let me clarify that my concern is derive from the fact that some of the Commonwealth countries WILL not invest in the establishment of a Law Commission. Perhaps, the more practical approach will be to kiss and make up; the need to also address the other law reform agencies and their peculiar problems and challenges with the view of setting a common ground and to acknowledge the global need for law reform beyond the setting up of a Law Commission. I think this is the immediate and crucial interim approach that the programme needs to consider. A Third World legally trained person like me would find it slightly problematic to smile and nod my head in unison with the others whenever the U.K experience is being cited as the best practice, rendered doable in other commonwealth countries. It is as if the programme is meant to be sterile from our own take on the law reform process, be it our own precedents or even fears with the idea of having a Law Commission.

Lessons learned?

The good thing about the British is that they are control freaks. Kidding. The good thing about them is that their working framework or structures are normally tight and well thought. Seriously, they have official standards, templates and even specific publications for almost all the processes they undertook in law reform.  Never, I repeat, never to expect them to suddenly exclaimed, “Hey, I think this Anti Terrorism Act needs to be amended, guys!” and jumped in the air gleefully. Well, I guess no law reform agency ever embarked on a project in such a way, but the British’s meticulousness I guess, is worth learning from. Secondly, their will to admit “oh shucks, we just can’t work with the Ministry of Justice” but of course with enough dose of English sensibility and cynicism. Try asking the MACC to admit that their procedures are “questionable”. During my visit to the Law Commission and Ministry of Justice, the admitted tension that arose from the relationship between both agencies is that the Ministry of Justice, being an arm of the government, responds to political pressure and the agenda of the government of the day while the UK Law Commission will take time in completing a certain law reform project because they will need time to consult stakeholders and experts in the pursuit of their work. What do they do the reconcile this tension however, is base on the urgency of the matter. I cited this particular challenge in order to tie it to the issue that was raised by participants throughout the programme; how independent is a Law Commission then? NHRIs had the Paris Principle as their guideline on the issue of independence, and the Law Commission is statutorily required to be independent, but are all these, fool proof arrangements? I mean when the law that required some kind of a review is regarding railway crossings or horse carriages, (read: yeah, seriously), question of independence is easier to be dealt with, but what about laws that impedes on human rights or a transgression of public’s interest? Tepuk dada, Tanya Dato’ Nazri. Hehehe.

All in all, one must never be pessimistic and try to digest these sort of experiences as lessons on life. I appreciate the programme very much both for the plus points I mentioned above and also for helping me and the rest of the participants generate new ideas and solutions to overcome some of the problems in law reform that was not addressed or maybe overlooked by the “British Invasion”. THAT all plus the joy of seeing the Professors and Federal Counsels in my group, singing and swaying to the wicked fun of “They Will Rock You”!

I was fine. Honest. My luggage was a war zone, my bedroom was like Middle East conflict- all chaotic and messy. The custard needed to be stirred well, the trifle all set to be flooded with the  hot milky custard. I was still in my working clothes, moving back and forth from my bedroom to the kitchen and once in a while, I would go to my living hall and checked on my dear gremlin, who was further enhancing the messy state of our resident by deciding that she felt like opening a clinic AND cooking dinner at the same time. It was a relieved that my house is small that all these challenging “travels” took about less than 5 minutes. More of Singapore than Borneo.

I walked passed Safra who was busy adding some plastic pickles and cauliflower into her imaginary soup. I reversed a bit, applauding her creative liberty in using the teapot to cook soup  and ventured back towards the kitchen. As I was about to open the refrigerator, Safra shot from behind exclaiming loudly, ” Sup, Sup!” while her chubby fingers hold a small spoon poised towards my mouth. I opened my mouth widely and pretended to gulped down the imaginary hot soup. She squealed in delight and dashed back to her “kitchen counter”. She continued feeding me with her “delicious” soup,  even took care to wipe the imaginary mess off my chin with her teddy bear.

I felt a big lump stuck in my dry throat at the sight of my baby girl gleefully spending time on her own, while me, the Mom, busy preparing to leave her for an oversea trip and an important programme for my organization this Saturday. It was as if I am witnessing our parrallel worlds painfully moving smoothly, side by side except that my mind and heart was in an emotional mess, looking at her learning and growing up every day amidst the fast and busy life I have to endure.

It was also still alright up till in the wee hours when she woke up suddenly, cried for “Ibu,” and snuggled closely to me between the comforter and returned to her Dreamland in seconds.

This morning, as I sent her to the nursery, I could not contained the emotinal chaos anymore that I broke down crying in front of Safra’s nanny. “What’s the matter?” She asked, looking slightly panicked, perhaps thinking that I just received some unexpected sad news. Safra blinked her own big eyes and looked at me in astonishment.

“Bibu teje, gi, gi. Safra duk sini..” Safra tried to console me with her eyes half closed. Oblivious to the fact that her Mom is having some separation issues. I told the Nanny, I am alright. Wiped my silly separation tears and landed a few sloppy kisses on Safra’s cheeks. We bear hugged for a few minutes and I left, with Safra’s consoling words replaying on my mind.

Well, tough luck Safra. I thought I could be tough and all. But I cried about half the journey to work and that would include the time that your Mom is stuck in the heavy traffic.

Whammy.