Awaiting Spring

Photo by becrawford_2007

lying in wait
beneath white cover
crocuses

Bali - Island of the Gods

Photo by Lee Wei Wei

This was our first holiday together as a family after a long while. It took a lot of planning and had to be postponed a few times as it had to fit everyone’s schedule but, on the 14th of November, our plane took off from Singapore at 7 pm.
Two and a half hours later, we landed at the airport at Ngurah Rai. There was a slight drizzle but the drivers from Serene Villa, the place we rented, were waiting for us. On our way to the villa at Seminyak, I could not see much as it was dark but I noticed that we were on a 4-lane road with quite heavy traffic. As we went around a roundabout, I saw some kind of rock formation in the middle of it. (I found out the next day that it was a huge statue of a Balinese warrior of old. The Balinese like to build huge statues in their roundabouts). We then overtook a bullock cart going at a canter! (I haven’t seen a bullock cart for many years now. This one has a small well-decorated cart obviously meant for passengers unlike the ones in Malaysia long ago which had large plain carts to carry goods). After that we turned into a small road and later, into a narrow lane and stopped. We had reached our destination. Two men in uniform were waiting for us with umbrellas and we were ushered through a small door into the villa. There was a huge lounge with a sofa set in front of a television set and a dining table and in the garden there was a small swimming pool. I took one of the rooms upstairs and was soon fast asleep.

Day 1: Saturday
I woke up in the morning to the song of birds. I stepped out onto the balcony and realized that we were in an area where the houses are tightly packed together; there were thatched roofs everywhere. I then looked down into the garden and saw that there were palm trees and flowering frangipanis and that the garden was surrounded by a high wall. Beside the swimming pool, there was a small open hut made of bamboo with a mattress and pillows. This hut is for resting and the Balinese people call it a Balai Binggung.
That morning we decided to take a stroll to the beach. The lane which runs beside our villa leads to a small road. We had to be careful walking along this road because motorcyclists were whizzing by all the time. One thing that struck us was the large number of shrines - by the roadside, in the garden and on the roofs. The shrines were of all shapes and sizes and were mostly made of stone. Offerings of flowers and/or small pieces of cut fruit placed inside a small rectangular tray of weaved palm leaves and lighted joss sticks were often seen. The Balinese pray at these shrines everyday.
From the road, we turned into Jalan Laksamana which leads to the beach. All along this road there were bars, boutiques, eateries, money changers, holiday villas, souvenir shops and little road-side stalls selling petrol in bottles. After browsing through several boutiques and feeling hot and thirsty, we decided to have a drink at the Ku De Ta, a chic beachfront restaurant/bar. It was huge and painted black, and the rock music was throbbing. At the back it opens onto the beach, a long strip of white sand with hordes of beach goers under giant umbrellas. The sea was disappointing though; it was murky grey and not the clear blue that I had expected.
In the afternoon, we set off for Tanah Lot to view the picturesque Balinese temple there. It was built on a huge rock outcrop, a hundred yards off the coast, which is surrounded by the sea. However, during low tide, people are able to walk to the temple.
We had to pass through rows and rows of colourful stalls hawking an array of fabrics, clothing, paintings, souvenirs and even coconuts, to reach the temple and when we arrived, it was low tide and we were able to walk out to the rock, passing pools of sea water and numerous reefs. However, we were prohibited from climbing up to the temple (only devotees were allowed) so we had to settle for a blessing with holy water by the priest followed by a dash of white ash on the forehead and a frangipani flower above the ear. We then watched the stunning sunset sipping drinks at the Sunset Café which was located atop a cliff facing the temple.
On our way back to the villa, we stopped for dinner at Warung Bandung where we dined on Indonesian cuisine inside bamboo huts while being serenaded by a guitar-playing duo singing Chinese and Malay songs.

Day 2: Sunday
At eight in the morning, we left for the mountain village of Kintamani. It was a scenic two hours drive on small roads through rustic villages with quaint houses and beautiful terrace rice fields which are popular photo stops. Each village is famous for some kind of handicraft. For example, Celuk is well known for silver and gold jewelry and Mas, for wood-carving.
When we reached Kintamani, which is about 5000 feet above sea level, we were greeted by the fresh and crisp mountain winds. We went for drinks at a restaurant that offers a spectacular view of Lake Batur and the still active volcano, Gunung Batur, before driving down to the lake. The road was steep and winding and there were a few heart-stopping moments during the 15 minute-drive. There was a small village beside the lake and the villagers were mostly farmers. After taking some photos we left for Ubud.
Ubud is a small town with numerous art galleries and shops offering paintings, wood carvings, batik and souvenirs and is reputed to be Bali’s cultural center. For lunch, we ate Babi Guling (roasted piglet) at a shop said to be the best in Bali and then we split up. The missus and company proceeded to the huge Handicraft Market while I took a leisurely stroll around the town with my daughters, camera in hand. We took numerous photos of the town and its ornate doors and, while a daughter haggled over the price of two paintings that she liked, the other daughter and I had tea at the Riverside Café across the road. The café was like a garden on top of a rock outcrop. It was surrounded by lush pristine greenery and we could hear the rushing sound of the river flowing below.
Later we met the rest at the popular Lotus Café before heading for a restaurant on the beach of Jimbaran Bay for seafood where we can dine under the stars and watch airplanes landing and taking off at the nearby airport. The food left much to be desired but we were well entertained by a band of five – three guitars, a violin and a double bass.

Day 3: Monday
On this day, we had lunch at Warung Made again. I had tried the delicious “Pork Ribs with Young Papaya” on Saturday so this time I ordered the “Special Fried Rice” and it was good. (Folks, if you are ever in Bali do try the food in Warung Made on Jalan Seminyak). After lunch, we headed for Kuta, a nearby town a few kilometers away.
We got off the cab at the Kuta beach in front of the sprawling Hard Rock Hotel. While some stayed at the beach to swim and to surf, three of us decided to go for a Balinese “Foot Massage” in town. It lasted an hour and I didn’t know if it relaxes my leg muscles or not but it felt so good that I almost dozed off.
Later that evening, we visited Centro, the largest mall in Kuta, located right on the beach. After browsing through it, we sat on the wide stairs that faces the sea to watch the sun go down in a blaze of glory. That was an unforgettable sight!
That night, while the missus went shopping around the town, two children and I waited at the Gloria Jean’s Coffees where I was able to use the free internet service for a while.

Day 4: Tuesday
This was our last day in Bali. We checked out at 1 pm and headed for Uluwatu to visit the famous Uluwatu Temple which was built in the 16th century and is precariously perched atop a cliff’s edge, 100 meters above the sea .The temple is also home to a tribe of monkeys which roams about the place freely.
On our way there, we spotted a number of blooming “Flame of the forest” trees, their masses of bright red flowers standing out among the green tree-tops. Since it was still early, we decided to stop for tea at the secluded Bvlgary Resort which sits on a 150 meter high plateau overlooking the Indian Ocean. We had to stop at the lobby to wait for a ride in a cart down to the cafeteria which is built on the side of the plateau together with all the resort’s bungalows. From the lobby, we could see the neighbouring cliffs, the roofs of the resort’s bungalows, the flowering trees and the vast blue ocean below that stretches to the horizon. The ride down was uneventful. The cafeteria was surrounded by pools and flowering trees and palms and provided a good view of the sea too. After tea, we continued on our journey.
We had to wear a sarong to cover our legs before we were permitted to enter the premises of the temple. We climbed up the stairs leading to the ancient temple together with crowds of tourists, passing monkeys looking for food stationed all along the way. We then climbed up a cliff path by the side of the temple which leads to the highest point of the cliff. This is said to be the best place to view the sunset.
After taking some photos, we went down to the temple again to watch the “Kecak and Fire Dance” at an open air theatre beside it. Accompanied by a choir of chanting and singing men, and held around a fire, it tells the story of how Rama defeated the evil Rhawana with the help of Hanoman, a white monkey with magical powers, to rescue his love, Sita.
After the show, we headed for the airport and home.

Snow

Photo by lydiajuliane

soft white tender bed
where cold angels soundly sleep
- the land in winter

Someone has taken away my sense of humour

Having lost so many friends and relatives, I am acutely aware of my own mortality. As such, I have decided to wake up every morning with a smile on my face, thankful that I have another day and determined to make it a happy one.
Lately, however, the smile is gone; someone has taken away my sense of humour and, as you are all aware, without it, one cannot be happy.
Now, who can that be?

Can it be the missus? Has she taken it away in retaliation because I do not enjoy the shopping trips as much as she does? How can I be happy and cheerful when I have to be on my feet for hours on end with only the shopping bags as my companions?

Or, is it my daughters? They have recently fought over a compact disc and are now engaged in a “cold” war. Unfortunately, I have to remain silent and wait for the war to end because I cannot be perceived to be on either side; that would only aggravate the situation.

Maybe, it is my son (he is the eldest). He seems a bit preoccupied of late. It could be because of his impending move to France. My son and I are pretty close now compared to when he was younger. I suppose it is my fault but, unlike others, I am not born to be a father; I have to learn to be one. Furthermore, I was only 27 when he was born and, as I am one of those who grow old faster than they grow up, I was practically a kid then.

Some of you may not know this but a sense of humour is priceless at my age. So will whoever has taken it away return it to me as soon as possible, please?

Winter Rose

Photo by Kate Maree

A red rose in the winter, bent
Laden with frosty load
Snowstorms and blizzards came and went
Leaving all in white coats

Missing the sun’s tender rays
Their nursing warmth, bereft
The rose, its life slipping away
Struggles for all that’s left

Snow and sleet with freezing cold
At last the end is nigh
For the rose, so valiant and bold
It is time to die

But, when winter ends and spring arrives
With it the gentle rains
When shoots and buds begin to thrive
The rose shall live again

Sakura

Photo by Lee Swee Wei

flashes of white
glimpses of pink
- sakura blossoms in the spring

Puppy In The Shoe

Picture by lovepuppy_26

There was once a puppy known as Sue
Who wanted to ride in a brown shoe
She climbed up one side
Then slipped out of sight
Where she had gone to there was no clue

A muffled sound was heard from somewhere
Don’t know if it was from here or there
Bow! Wow! That was the shout
She then stuck her head out
Must have given herself quite a scare

Rose

red dressed with dewdrops

basking in the morning sun

- a rose bloom in spring

Pic by eviLiolis

Dewdrops

Photo by Lee Tai Wah

sparkling diamonds
dangling from the cusps
in the early morning light

Winter

When the first flakes of snow slowly descend
To lay a white carpet upon the land
The deer, the wolves, the bears and all their friends
Depend on Mother Nature’s gentle hand
The trees wearing a coat of fresh light snow
All immune to the biting wind and cold
Stand straight and tall like soldiers in a row
A wondrous sight to see and to behold
Upon this softly laid and tender bed
Countless snow angels lay their sleepy heads

Beach Party

Picture curtesy of Photobucket - Artist Unknown

With the looming freeze of winter
The daunting cold of fall
The wife put me in a dither
With “Let’s go play beach ball”

We cranked up the old jalopy
And headed for the beach
One G-string and a bikini
A can of suntan each

The sun was out, the surf was up
And bare bodies abound
I hope she did not hear me gulp
As I cast eyes around

So there we were in our glory
Paunches and boobs hung low
With hands held behind the fanny
To hide its overflow

It’s clear that we were, to many
The objects of their lust
Thank gawd for plastic surgery
That all eyes were on us

Young In Cheek

Early one bright spring morning
I was lazing in the creek
Now I can’t swim like lightning
And I am a wee bit meek

Stumbled on a big fat trout
Started to play hide and seek
Safe at home in father’s mouth
I could at last take a peek

“Go away you clumsy lout
You’re no match for one so sleek
My dad can beat any trout”
But fish breath, phew how it reeks!

Port Weld

Photo by Lee Tai Wah

One Sunday morning, after our usual stroll around the Taiping Lake Gardens, we decided to go to Matang for its famous crab porridge. When we arrived there however, we found that the porridge would only be available at noon and since the other coffee shops were closed as well, we then proceeded to nearby Port Weld or Kuala Sepetang as it is now known, to look for breakfast.

The coffee shops at Port Weld were open and we had a choice of seafood mee, curry mee, wan ton mee, etc. We decided on nasi lemak which was rice (cooked with coconut milk) to which was added curry prawns, fried fish, fried anchovies and sambal (ground chilly). The seafood was fresh and tasty.

After breakfast, we bought some fresh fish at the market which was situated near the site of the old railway station. The original Port Weld signboard was still there. It is the only signboard in Malaysia that is written in English, Chinese, Indian and Jawi! We then went around the village on our motorbike and stumbled upon the stone wharf that I had been to when I was around sixteen.

A few classmates and I had camped in the compound of Jal Prabhan’s house in Matang on one weekend in 1964. On Sunday morning, we had cycled to Port Weld to explore and ended up on this wharf. We spent the morning trying to catch some small swordfish in the river with our “net” which was a handkerchief with the four ends tied to raffia strings. Alas, the fish were either too smart or too fast for us and we wound up empty handed.

Port Weld was once the busiest port in the region. Tin ore from Taiping was transported here, using elephants, to be shipped to Penang for export. Then in 1885, the railway which connects Taiping to Port Weld was built. It was the first railway built in the then Straits Settlements and was thirteen kilometres long. Travel time was shortened to a few hours from two to three days.

My grandfather landed in Port Weld in the 1920s and he might have taken a ride on the train to Taiping but, most probably, he must have made the journey riding on a bullock cart, the main mode of transport back then and cheaper too. Or maybe, he could have ridden on an elephant!

Port Weld is now a small fishing village of wooden houses built close together on the bank of the river, Sungei Sepetang, with several wharfs where fisherman unload their daily catch and where salted fish can be seen drying in the sun. Some years ago, my children, the missus and I had sailed in a fishing boat from Kampong Dew, a village on the outskirts of Taiping, to Port Weld and back at night to admire the fireflies which can be seen among the mangrove trees on both sides of the river. Occasionally, we could see the twin red eyes of the estuarine crocodile too! When we shone our torches onto the river, on both sides of the moving boat we could see shrimps everywhere, hopping out of the water like tiny kangaroos! To this day, I am not sure whether the shrimps were startled by our boat or were racing with us.

Port Weld is also famous for the Mangrove Swamp Preserve Park situated just outside the village. It has a 250 metres long wooden boardwalk built over the swamp whereby one can take a walk through the mangrove forest and also chalets for visitors to spend the night. The mangrove forest stretches for 52 kilometres and occupies an area of about 100,000 acres! One can get a boat ride for a tour of the scenic mangrove forest, to watch cockle breeders harvest their catch or to visit Kuala Sanggar, another fishing village situated at the nearby river mouth, to look at the floating cages used for breeding fish there.

The mangrove swamps form an important buffer zone between the sea and the shore, absorbing the shocks of waves and even tsunamis. It is also the home of the Mangrove Crab or Mud Crab. With its sweet firm flesh and delectable orange-red eggs, I love it cooked any style, be it Black Pepper Crab, Chilly Crab or Curry Crab.

Autumn

Photo by rose_bud4jesus

Motley colours of the forest top
Ablaze in daylight’s waning glow
As disgruntled leaves begin to drop
Onto cold bare ground way below

Busy squirrels along frost-covered path
Scurry for food as winter looms
Golden leaves in gentle winds waft
Over sad plants with forgotten blooms

Frost-covered branches beseech the sky
For sunshine, just a little longer
Perhaps this is the reason why
At times rises an Indian summer

This poem is prompted by the awesome picture of autumn which can be seen at:
www.radekaphotography.com/images/AutumnTreeNlake-L.jpg

Interlude

Alone in the forest
I wanted to be
Away from the rest
To be alone with me

With the trees around me
Protecting like guards
From the world I am free
I am alone at last

Immersed in my thoughts
Of all that had been
The fights that I had fought
The sights that I had seen

The things that I had done
Those that I can be proud
The deeds that had gone
That I cannot say aloud

Softly out of nowhere
Creeps the morning light
To chase away my cares
And fill me with delight

Papa, I dedicate this song to you..

Mr. Ong's Hillman

I have recently read a blog that expressed the wish that products sold in America be made in America which would mean more employment opportunities for Americans. It reminds me of the situation in my country and the progress that we have made.
I remember back in the 1960s when I was a young boy almost all of us were riding bicycles. In my village, there was only one car – a black Hillman saloon owned by Mr. Ong, the owner of a grocery shop. Back then, Mr. Ong was the most popular man in our village, even more popular than our village headman, Mr. Tan, and it was all because of his car.
You see, Mr. Ong’s car was borrowed by all of us for weddings, funerals and any occasion that required transportation like sending a sick villager to the hospital. Mr. Ong was a friendly and amiable man and would never refuse us but we had to compensate him for the petrol so the angpow (red packet) was a must.
A few of us had motorcycles like the BSA, Triumph and Norton which were made in the West. Later there were the Lambretta and the hugely popular Vespa.
A few households also had television sets and you could recognize these houses by the large number of people crowded around the front door and windows when the television set was turned on.

Our country was poor then depending on the export of tin and rubber to the West. We had no control over their prices too because every time the price went up, the western nations would release their stockpile to bring the price down again. Later when countries like Japan, Korea, Taiwan and Hong Kong industrialized and started to buy our rubber and tin, we felt a little easier. Now, of course, we also export to India and China, both huge markets.
Back then, most of us were rubber tappers, tin panners or workers on tin dredgers. The ladies could not afford much so their favourite purchases were the cheap textiles from Taiwan, Hong Kong and Singapore.

Then in the 1970s, our government decided that for us to survive, we have to industrialize. We had no money and no skills and so had to depend on Foreign Direct Investments (FDI). The problem was, and still is, that FDIs were coveted by many countries and even though ours is a stable country with no security problems, we had to make a lot of concessions to attract these investments like tax exemption, cheap land, cheap labour, work permits for foreign staff and other incentives. In return, we got technology transfer and job creation.
So the Kamunting Industrial Estate near Taiping came to be. Most of the factories were textile factories and the investors were mostly from Hong Kong and Taiwan who shifted their factories here. The textile factories in these countries and Singapore closed down and they started to manufacture textile machinery and accessories to sell to us instead.
We have become factory workers with a stable income and a little money to spend. More of us can now afford television sets. During this time too, the Honda Cub, a small motorcycle with a 50 cc engine, was brought in from Japan. Because it was cheap, it became hugely popular and motorcycles from the West were priced out. Soon, bicycles gave way to these ubiquitous kup chais as they were fondly referred to. Later on, cars began appearing on the roads. The favourite brands were at first Volkswagen, Morris Minor, Mini Minor, etc. Then came the Honda Civic - a car derided as junk by the West. This was quickly followed by other Japanese cars like Toyota, Datsun and Mitsubishi and, very soon, they conquered the Malaysian market. Mr. Ong’s Hillman was no more the only car in our village.

Soon it was our turn to close down our textile factories when the owners decided to shift to other countries like Thailand, Vietnam and China. We, in turn, started to manufacture textile machinery and other machinery such as fans, ovens, refrigerators, television sets, etc while countries like Taiwan, Hong Kong and Singapore invested in High Technology industries. I think this is known as globalization. We established Proton Holdings, our national carmaker which produces Proton cars. We found oil and gas and founded our national oil and gas company, Petronas. Investments continued to pour in and soon we began to manufacture, among other things, computer accessories and electronics for companies like Hewlett Packard and Intel. We are also a major exporter of rubber and palm oil.
Now we have more money and we have more brands of cars in the market like Audi, Volvo, BMW, Mercedes, Porsche and Korean cars like Hyundai and Kia. When I go to Kamunting village, the narrow roads are jammed with cars and motorcycles and the air is filled by the foul smell of exhaust fumes. Mr. Ong’s Hillman is nowhere to be seen and largely forgotten.

Now if America were to manufacture the products sold there and other countries were to follow suit, it would mean the end of globalization. Our manufacturing sector would suffer and our exports greatly reduced and confined to oil, rubber and palm oil. The only jobs available would be in these three industries. We would then be poor again.
We would have no money to buy computers which means companies like Hewlett Packard, Intel, Microsoft, Apple, Yahoo, Google, Facebook, etc would lose a large part of their businesses. We would not be able to afford drinks like Coca Cola or Pepsi Cola and eating at places like MacDonald’s, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Burger King, Pizza Hut and Kenny Rogers Roasters would be out of the question. Instead of watching Western shows in cinemas and on television, we would be watching cheaper local productions or those from Singapore, China, Taiwan and Hong Kong. (There is no way that we would be able to watch American Idol!) We would be smoking rokok daun (tobacco rolled in palm leaves) instead of Marlboro, Rothmans or Benson and Hedges. We would be drinking Samsu (Coconut wine) instead of beers like Heineken, Tiger, Anchor or Guiness Stout and Rice Wine instead of whiskey, brandy or champagne. We would also be drinking local tea and coffee instead of those at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, Delifrance or Starbucks Coffee Houses, and these would all have to close shop.
We would be riding bicycles again. Only a few would be able to have motorcycles and none of these would be Harley Davidson or Honda GoldWing. There would only be one petrol station for the whole of Taiping and it would be Petronas and not Esso, Shell, Mobil or Caltex.

And for occasions that require transportation like marriages, funerals and sending a villager to hospital, we would be borrowing Mr. Ong’s refurbished Hillman again.

Words

Words are the links that connect you and I
So they should be used with respect and care
For words can lift your spirit way up high
Or they can drive you into deep despair

Our words can be used to taunt and torment
And stab deep into others like a knife
There rage and hatred fester and ferment
Leaving you badly wounded; scarred for life

Words can bring comfort and warmth to us all
And fill our lives with laughter and delight
Sweet words can also entice and enthrall
And flame passion to set our hearts alight

Words, like a pail of water, once poured out
Cannot be retracted despite your clout

First Haiku

First Love –
Stolen glances
Excited thrills

First Date –
Romantic dinner
Separate bills

First Heartbreak –
Copious tears
Body shudders

First Recovery –
New girl
Heart flutters

Purity

Purity -

White lily

in the spring rain

Have You Ever Wondered ....

Have you ever wondered ….

Where butterflies spend the night?
In the open, wild and free?
Or seeking shelter from the cold, wind and rain
Perhaps hanging inside a tree?

Have you ever wondered ….

When the tree-tops dance
To the rhythm of the wind
What is it that the wind whispers to the trees
Above all that din?

Have you ever wondered ….

From where the wind comes
And to where does it blow?
Wouldn’t it be great if we could see the wind
Painted the colours of the rainbow?

Have you ever wondered ….

If the rainbow
Is a bridge in the sky
For us to cross over to Heaven
When we die?

Have you ever wondered ….

Why the sky is blue
Except when there’s rain?
Is it possible that those tiny raindrops
Have washed off all the paint?

Have you ever wondered ….

Where rain clouds come from
And why they don’t run dry?
Are they formed by those thick mists in the morning
Drifting up into the sky?

Have you ever wondered ….


Why birds sing in the morning
To welcome the sunrise?
Are they aware that without the sun
It’ll be our demise?

Have you ever wondered ….why we wonder?

Inter-Faith Dialogue

I have read about a conference of Muslim and Christian leaders being held at New Haven, Connecticut to promote inter-faith dialogue in the newspapers recently. This brought back memories of my encounters with two elderly Malay Muslim gentlemen more than twenty years ago.

The first was Pak Osman, the father of a friend. He was from Batu Kurau, a small village near Taiping and he sold fruits for a living. He was a devout Muslim and had performed the Haj three times. In my country, the people who have performed the Haj are well-respected among the Muslim community and addressed as Haji.
In my country too, some of the Muslims do not wish to discuss religion with non-Muslims, ostensibly because they (the non-Muslims) do not know enough of the Muslim religion, so I was surprised when Pak Osman started discussing religion with me.
He was wrongly informed that I was a Christian and wanted to know more about the religion and was taken aback that I do not believe in religion. We ended up discussing religions in general (or the lack of it) and our different customs and beliefs.
We had a fruitful series of discussions during the evenings, after I had finished my work, at his roadside fruit stall situated close to the Taiping Bus Station from which I have gained an insight into the Muslim religion and the Malay culture.

The second was a gentleman from remote Pasir Mas, Kelantan whom I met when I attended a two-week course in “Fresh-water fish breeding” at Bukit Tinggi, Pahang in 1983. He was a rice farmer and had performed the Haj twice but I cannot recall his name now. He did not have a formal education and could only read and write in Jawi but he surprised me with his wide general knowledge which he gained from reading Jawi newspapers.
I remember, with mirth, that the first thing he wanted to know was whether man has really landed on the moon or was it merely Western propaganda. (The moon is sacred to the Muslims). I suspect that must be the opinion of some of his friends back in rural Pasir Mas but he clearly had his doubts.
He knew about the conflict between Cuba and America, the “Cold War”, the Falklands War, the fall of the Shah of Persia, communism in China and Mao Zedong, etc and his questions often had me stumped.

The two gentlemen impressed me with their views, their thoughts, their ability to discuss (and not argue), their willingness to listen, their openness and their open-mindedness about others’ cultures and religions (they never once claimed their religion to be the best). It was indeed a pleasure and an honour to have met them.

Through the years, I have had other Malay Muslim friends, as well as friends of others faiths and races, but none with whom I have discussed religion, beliefs and customs or world events. Is inter-faith dialogue useful? I believe so.

Dragon Seeds

A bold young man in his twenties
Left Guangzhou Province in China
To face the rough and violent seas
Sailing to far-off Malaya

It was the nineteen twenties
And China was torn by strife
He had to make some monies
For his family to survive

The journey was a long one
And life on board was a bore
It was close to a month
Before he could step on shore

He made his way to Larut
Where tin mines were flourishing
And towkays were out to recruit
Workers to do the mining

But he was a skillful tailor
Probably one of the top
So, instead of being a tin-miner
He set up his own shop

He slogged and struggled so tough
That his business began to thrive
Very soon he had saved enough
To send for his lovely young wife

Together the young couple strived
To earn enough money
To keep themselves alive
And send back to the family

She soon bore him two sons
Which made him swell with pride
But they were also the reasons
Their expenses took a hike

The situation then was such
They survived from day to day
Alas, the strain was too much
The young mother passed away

The two young boys then grew up
Being cared for by their stepmother
Studies, they soon had to give up
To learn the trade of a tailor

The elder son began working
With the famed British Army
At a camp in Klian Pauh, Taiping
In a shed facing the entry

I can’t think of anything worse
Then this earnest young man’s plight
For he knew just three English words
Which were “Yes”, “No” and “Alright”

How it was not a deterrent
I really don’t have a clue
He managed to raise ten children
And send them all to school

That, my children, is the story
Of two brave young men indeed
Who overcame every adversity
Two of China’s Dragon Seeds

Their spirits were indomitable
They faced life with pluck
Strong, courageous and capable
They do not depend on luck

You, my children, are the ones chosen
To perpetuate your ancestors’ deeds
To follow this path, well-trodden
As you are all Dragons Seeds

You’ve to fight life’s battles with valour
Treat your kith and kin with care
Give your best with every endeavour
And never ever seek Welfare

It’s for those helpless and destitute
Who cannot cover their needs
Don’t bring us into disrepute
Remember, you are Dragon Seeds

Always live to your full potential
Strive to win every distinction
Seek achievements that are special
For you, for us and for the nation

I have decided to buy myself a tree

I have been reading about the effect of trees on the environment - how they absorb carbon dioxide and release oxygen into the atmosphere. I have also read about those billionaires who buy huge tracts of forests/jungles to be preserved for posterity so that the future generations have the chance to appreciate nature and also, to act as an “oxygen factory”.

Since I am not yet a billionaire, I have decided to buy myself a tree. I know, one tree is not much but I am hoping that my tree will be able to provide enough oxygen for a butterfly or a honey bee. I will hate it if my tree provides just enough oxygen for a mosquito. Those mosquitoes and I do not get along; they tend to get under my skin.

I would consider a horse-chestnut tree because of its size, its widely spreading branches which would provide ample shade, and its tall clusters of pretty white or pink flowers. A giant oak tree would also be appropriate because of its hard wood and because I like the idiom “great oaks from little acorns grew”. I would also like to purchase the land that the tree is planted on which should include a space of about two feet around the base of the tree. This is because I do not want to receive a message one fine day asking me to remove my tree because somebody wants the land back.

If it is possible, I would also like a certificate of ownership in case of future dispute. Of course, if I frame it, I can hang it in my den. After all, how many of you actually own a tree?

The location of the tree is of the utmost importance. I would prefer a tree on an island in a picturesque lake, or on top of a hill overlooking a beautiful valley. The tree must never be in the centre of the city, exposed to the toxic smog and the awful pollution and with the sunlight blocked off by all those tall buildings. Then, there are those kids who like to carve messages with their knives and the dogs that love to pee against tree trunks.

Finally, when I die, I want my ashes to be buried there, in the shade of my tree. I can then guard the tree as a tree spirit. Or is it free spirit? Anyhow, I will place a curse on anyone who harms my tree. He or she will have seven years of no luck; I stress, it is no luck and not bad luck. I do not want anything bad to happen to them; just that he or she will have no luck with love, the lottery, the horses, etc.

So, does anyone have a suitable tree for sale? Is there a kindred spirit out there also looking to buy a tree?

Consideration

To write, one needs courage and confidence
To disparage, one only needs petulance
Passing caustic comments
On what another presents
Seeking glory in one’s stark arrogance

The Men Who Hold Up The Mountain

Yesterday I watched a documentary on the porters of Huashan, one of China’s five sacred Taoist mountains, which is about 2200 metres high.

These porters carry loads of provisions like cold drinks, tea leaves, beer, etc up the mountain for the tea-shops and hotels there. The loads, which can weigh from 50 kg to 150 kg, are carried tied in bundles and hung from both ends of a long bamboo pole which the men carry on their shoulders. The documentary features a few porters, each with his distinctive style of climbing the mountain.

The first man, in his late forties, sings at the top of his voice as he slowly climbs up the steps of the stone stairs. He has lost a few front teeth and has scars on his body as a result of accidents while climbing the mountain. Due to poverty, his wife had left him so he has brought up his two children on his own. To make more money, he carries loads of 140-150 kg and has earned enough to build his own house and send both his sons to university. They are working now so he is saving the money he earns for his old age when he can no longer work.

The second, an amiable man in his sixties, appears to be talking to himself as he climbs. Actually, he is a movie buff and he is re-enacting the movies that he has watched. He can sing, too and when he meets his friend, the “singer”, they would perform a duet or sit down to have a chat. His grown-up children want him to stop but he loves the mountain too much. They have given in but insist that he carries a load of no more than 60 kg.

The third man, also in his sixties, is a self-taught flutist. He plays the flute with both hands with the pole balanced on his shoulder while he walks. He plays well and claims that tourists climbing the mountain have told him that his music helps them too. When he reaches a steep slope, he would keep his flute and start singing. He has managed to send his children to college too, and they are now working in the city. Talking about his far-away children brought tears to his eyes (and I thought tough mountain men don’t cry!).

The fourth man is a wiry 75 year old with long white hair and a weather-beaten face. He is rather taciturn and does not reveal much. He carries a 50 kg load and shouts loudly as he climbs; with his wild long hair, you could have mistaken him for a mad man!

These men do not have an education or other skills to get another job. They took up mountain-porterage because the only qualifications needed are stamina and a strong pair of legs. Yet they know how to divert their attention from pain and suffering by singing, enacting, playing music, shouting, etc. They also exhibit extraordinary camaraderie. A shout by one of them would elicit a chorus of responses; it is as if they are shouting encouragement to one another. They would also happily share a song or have a chat when they meet. If one of them were to be unable to carry on because of a fall or some other reason, the others would willingly help carry his load without asking for money even though their earnings are meager.
These men, with furrows on their shoulders, scars on their bodies and sinews in their legs as a result of all that climbing somehow know the meaning of friendship and compassion. We have a lot to learn from them.

A Year in Japan.....collection of our first year journey

Life Is Not A Prison

This is an updated version of a reply I made last year in response to a poem done by a depressed youth on her feelings of total hopelessness.

Life is not a prison
So tell me why you shout
And ask God to listen
When others are about

Climb high to view your dreams
Ride on the wave of hope
If you fall, get up again
No matter how steep the slope

We all need a window
To see the road ahead
The future may be scary
But it’s not what we dread

It is painful to watch
Those who lock themselves away
Joy, love and happiness
Grow slowly day by day

Strong is good, weak is bad
Be it false, be it true
The strong also have weaknesses
The weak have strengths too

Norms are set by society
With guidelines to follow
These are for everyone
Us and every other fellow

For most, life’s a routine
And at times can be boring
Resolutely, we carry on
No, we are not pretending

Sometimes there’s pain, sometimes joy
As we go on life’s ride
Sometimes happy, sometimes sad
There is no need to hide

Can you see what life’s about?
It’s not just about ourselves
It’s about love, hope, compassion
For us and everybody else

There’s light at the end of the tunnel
To help you find your way
Hope at the end of the path
To pull you through each day

Have You Ever ........

Have you ever sung with a sparrow
By imitating it’s “tweet”
Though the bird looks a little baffled
Boy, it is a great duet

Have you ever climbed up a tall, thin
And gangly papaya tree
To have it slowly bend down to earth
Because of the weight of thee

Have you ever pulled the pony-tail
Of the pretty girl next door
While deep inside you can’t decide if
You like or dislike her more

Have you ever tried to catch the wind
As it passes in a rush
Try as you may, chasing it about
It is always air you grasp

Have you ever sat on a tube and
Go sliding fast down a hill
Even if you fall and tumble down
Gosh, it is still such a thrill

Have you ever tried to speak to one
On whom you have a huge crush
And end up tongue-tied and stammering
Your face coloured red with blush

Have you ever played in the puddles
That’s left by the recent rain
And then return home, wet and dirty
To mama’s dismay again

Have you ever listened to a song
While playing your air guitar
Darn it, at times I do more than that
I conduct an orchestra

Have you ever felt like Peter Pan
Flying high up in the sky
It’s all because the girl of your dreams
Smiles sweetly when passing by

If we have never done the things we do
Would I still be I, and you still be you

Three English Words

Back in the 1950’s, my father was a tailor in a British Army camp. The camp was located just beside the church in Klian Pauh, Taiping. I was about six then and my brother, a year older. He had already started to attend an English school, the Saint George’s Institution.

My father’s tailor “shop” was a shed of zinc and canvas situated in the compound of the camp, away from the imposing main building of brick and mortar. It was a big compound; at the front of the building was a well-kept garden and at the back, a large field of coconut trees. Our shed was situated at the back, near to a durian tree and facing the main gate.

Our country was known as Malaya back then and we were still under British rule. As such, the soldiers in the camp were all British. I was in awe of these soldiers when I first saw them. Who are these giants with their fair skin, coloured hair and eyes and who speak in a strange language?

I don’t remember much about the camp now except for a few events that, for some strange reason, remain in my memory:-

Once I followed my brother to catch grasshoppers among the tall grass at the back of the camp. We kept the grasshoppers in a corked “orange squash” bottle that each of us carried. Our bottles were nearly full when a young giant, wearing a white apron, called out to us. We were scared as we could not understand him and did not know what he wanted. So, we just stood there. He came over, removed the bottles from our hands, released all the grasshoppers that we caught and then indicated with his hand that we should wait. He took the bottles with him back into the small room and we saw him wash the bottles. He then disappeared for awhile and when he returned, he was holding the two bottles filled to the brim with warm tea. He then gave the bottles back to us and shooed us off with a wave of his hand. We ran happily back to the shed to share our bounty.

On another occasion, he gave me a large paper bag full of, what I now realize are, coriander seeds. Not knowing what the seeds were then or what to do with it, I hid the paper bag beneath the cabinet at the side of the shed and soon forgot all about it. Then one day, there was a very strange aroma inside the shed. We started looking for the source of the smell and found that beneath the cabinet, the earth was covered with a carpet of green shoots! Apparently, the rain had wetted the paper bag causing it to tear and spill out the coriander seeds which then sprouted. The adults immediately recognized it as some kind of herb and harvested the plants to cook with chicken that day. They wondered how the seeds got there but I kept my silence. I did not want the hassle of explaining how I got the bag of seeds; they might not believe me.

One rainy day while I was half-asleep inside the shed, we heard the sound of something hitting the ground. On checking, we saw that it was a durian. I immediately wanted to go out to collect it but my father held me back. “It’s okay. You can collect it after the rain has stopped,” he said. “But what if the soldiers were to collect it first?” I cried. “No, they won’t,” he replied calmly. True enough, after the rain, the durian was still there. Back then, I did not know why the British soldiers left the durian alone or why my father insisted that we take the durian home to eat.

One day, my brother requested that I follow him and do what he does. So, after a little training, the two of us went around the camp looking for the soldiers and when we found one, we would stand at attention, salute and loudly cry out, “Hello John. Give me ten cents.” We were doing quite well until Father got wind of it and closed down our operation. Come to think of it, those were the first English words I learned!

Then one day, the soldiers all climbed into their trucks and rumbled out of town. Father said they were going home. “Why and where is their home?” I asked. Father then mentioned something about gaining our independence and the soldiers going back to their own country. Adults can sometimes be so confusing!

During the weekends, Father would carry me on his BSA motorcycle to visit his friends. Inevitably, they would ask him how he communicated with the British soldiers. (Father was Chinese-educated). “It’s easy,” he would always say, “You only need to know three English words: Yes, No, Alright.”
Incredulous as it may seem, I later reasoned out that what Father said is largely true. I can imagine the following exchanges between the soldiers and him:-

“I want to make a pair of trousers” - “Yes”
“Can you reduce the price?” - “No”
“I need it by Sunday” - “Alright”

With just three English words, my father was able to raise our family.

Much later, when I was raising a family of my own, I was confident that I would succeed whatever the hardships. After all, thanks to my brother, I know at least six English words – “Hello John. Give me ten cents.”

Sunset

As the blood-red sun sinks into the sea
Beyond the quiet tree-lined sandy beach
The parched Hibiscus and Bougainvillea
Flowers drooping, for water they beseech

Homing birds fly over the sea, green-blue
Above the silhouettes of tall palm trees
Against the sky, a blazing orange hue
As the land is swept by the evening breeze

As the last rays of twilight wave goodbye
And dusk descends in gloom before the night
Casting bashful shadows that hide, so shy
From the rising moon and the stars so bright

Burnt out and weary the sun needs to rest
To emerge at dawn at nature’s behest

Fickle Love

Your love just like a soft tender caress
Excites and titillates me to the core
Torrid passion, combined with fine prowess
Enthralls and leaves me yearning for much more

Entwined lovers, lost in a world, insane
Feasting wildly on a fervent affair
But then, slowly, your love begins to wane
I’m left broken and in utter despair

Raging anger and dreams, in tears, dissolve
Sounding our love with the dreaded death-knell
Without regrets and with stoical resolve
I bid my love a heart-rending farewell

Flaming passion slowly flickers and dies
Fickle lovers waver amidst their lies

Singapore Snippet

We have been in Singapore for two weeks now. The first week was nice and balmy with occasional showers but the second has been way too hot. It makes me want to stay indoors (in air-conditioned comfort) rather than go out but the missus wants to go to Compass Point (a shopping centre) in Sengkang for some purchases and then on to Farrer Park. Why Farrer Park? Because we have not been there before.
Yesterday we took the bus to Punggol for the first time. We missed the stop and so had to walk an extra one hundred meters to Punggol Central. Well, there was not much there; just a bus terminal, a coffee stall and the Mass Rapid Transport (MRT)/Light Rapid Transport (LRT) station.
This reminds me of the time we took the MRT to Marina Bay. Outside the station was a bus stop by the side of a small road which divides a small field planted with lots of small trees and the place was deserted. There was no bay to be seen. To the amusement of the station staff, we then took the same train back to the city.

That’s what happens sometimes when you decide to wander around on your own. But I love to wander! I like to stumble across something nice. There was this time when the missus wanted to buy the “mui choy” (a type of preserved vegetable) that she had spied on sale in a stall in a coffee shop in the Bugis area the previous day when we passed by on our way for some “Cut Rice”. So we had to search the whole area for the coffee shop again and, yes, we found it and it was worth the effort. The bona fide Hakka mui choy from China was crunchy and the aroma was heavenly. Definitely the best I have ever taken!
We also discovered a couple of streets selling Indian items (the area is pretty close to Little India and we might have stumbled upon it), a blue mosque and a new way to the famous Chinese temple in the area. You can say we are quite familiar with the area now.

There are still a lot of places to explore. We have been to all the tourist areas like Sentosa Island, Orchard Road, Vivo City, Suntec City, Marina Square, Raffles City, etc. In my opinion, Singapore has some of the best shopping malls in the region and one can literally shop until one drops. Transport is efficient and convenient with the MRT and abundant buses and taxis.
But it is the lesser-known places that attract me. Places like Hougang, Toa Payoh, Tampines, Katong, etc. I like to roam the narrow streets and back alleys and it is safe to do so in Singapore. I like to “discover” a small park, a temple, a flea market, etc.

By the way, at night, the mamak stalls in Simpang Bedok serve the best teh tarik (pulled tea) and yummy roti prata.

Thunderstorm

Ominous clouds in downcast sky
Lightning flashes, thunderclaps
Reverberate, as rain clouds cry
Falling rain, round us, wraps

Rattling harsh, the window pane
Fighting to get within
The howling wind, amid the rain
Raises one raucous din

Endless raindrops splash and splatter
Drenching the drowning street
Spraying mists of real fine water
On bare and covered feet

Sodden flowers, nodding their heads
Trees, with their wide boughs bent
Soaking all, as the cloudburst spreads
Violent, without relent

Raging torrents, down mountainside
Rumbling, wild and free
Swollen rivers and sea collide
In choppy estuary

Tomorrow

Sometimes life’s a joy, happy and gay
Sometimes life sucks, an utter dismay
Whatever it may be
Tomorrow you’ll be free
For you cannot take along today

If I were to leave first

If I were to leave first
Do not be sad
Just remember to cherish
The time we’ve had
I will forever love you
With all my heart
And even in death
We’ll never part
This is not farewell
It’s not goodbye
For I will be waiting
So please don’t cry
It’s time to stop mourning
Time to let go
It’s time to dry your tears
Give life a hello
If I were to leave first
Overcome the pain
Live life to the fullest
Till we meet again

Morn

I see the rising sun
Peeping above the hill
I see the rays of light
Slicing the early chill
I see the fluffy clouds
Hovering, grey and still
I see the early birds
And hear their songs so shrill

I see the dewy grass
Glistening in the light
I see the flowers bloom
My, what a wondrous sight
A myriad of colours
Tantalizing and bright
Oh, what a difference
From the dark silent night

I smell the air so fresh
As a breeze kisses my cheek
Rustling leaves in the trees
While it plays hide and seek
I hear a gentle babble
And it comes from the creek
I spy a golden shaft
As the sun takes a peek

As I stroll on the path
Across the lush green meadow
Past bridges, lakes and brooks
In this sleepy hollow
The mist-shrouded mountains
Basking in morning's glow
Adds a touch of splendour
To mother nature's show

Blogger

There was once a philosopher
Who aspires to be a writer
Although he writes well
His articles can't sell
Now he has become a blogger

Maxwell Hill

Maxwell Hill in Taiping (now known as Bukit Larut) is the oldest hill resort in Malaysia. At 1250 meters above sea-level, visitors can enjoy the refreshingly cool air, the breathtaking view of Taiping town with the coastline in the distance and the beautiful sunsets. The appeal of the resort lies in its untouched mountain beauty with flowers, birds and the tree fern. When it rains, the resort would be shrouded in mist, giving the place an enchanted ambience. To go up the hill, we have to take a jeep. At the 3rd mile is Tea Garden and at the 6th mile, the Maxwell Hill Resort where there are bungalows for rent, rest houses, an Indian temple, a canteen and gardens.

The Taiping folk like to visit the resort during the weekends and public holidays. In the old days, groups of up to 40 would stay in a bungalow meant for 8. Nobody slept much anyway for there would be all kinds of activities until early in the morning for the young boys and girls. I dare say that many of the married couples in Taiping today, first met each other at Maxwell Hill. It was there that I first set my eyes on a beautiful young girl who is later to become my wife. I was sixteen then and she was two years younger. She later told me that for her, it was love at first sight. As for me, I am not telling except to say that she is still the prettiest girl I have ever met.

During my younger days, I have gone up Maxwell Hill countless times. Sometimes we went up by jeep but most of the time, we hiked up. Most times, we stayed in the bungalows but sometimes we camped at a small piece of flat land situated at the lower part of the resort. We don’t have a tent; just some ponchos.
One evening, five friends and I were sitting there watching the sun go down when the silence was broken by the sound of a flute. It was an Indian song and it came from the direction of the Indian temple. The haunting music completely captivated us! If ever there is an enchanting evening that was it! We sat there, enraptured by the music until night fell and, below us, the lights of Taiping town came on when the music finally stopped. We have gone our separate ways now and may never meet again but I bet that none of us would ever forget that evening.

We liked to hike up the hill. There were numerous short cuts, two of which were more than a kilometer long. Although these short cuts are steep and sandy jungle paths, being young and strong, it was no problem for us. I remember climbing up the hill once with my scout patrol when we took the short cut after Tea Garden which was the toughest and the longest. Just when we were about to reach the end of the short cut, we spotted a wild piglet in our path. It was a cute little thing, about a foot tall with yellow stripes on its hairy brown body. I was fascinated but my patrol leader, Ng, immediately ordered us to retreat down the path; the reason being wherever there is piglet, the sow is sure to be close by and a sow, defending her young one, can be extremely dangerous.

Tea Garden is 3 miles from the foot of the hill. There is a small canteen facing a bungalow. The road is wider here and this is the place where the jeep, going up or down the hill, would stop to wait for the jeep coming from the other direction to pass before continuing on its journey. There was also a small road leading down to another bungalow about a hundred meters below.
Once when I was with a group of classmates hiking down the hill, we decided to have a look down there. Halfway down, we came across a small stream with inviting fast-flowing water by the side of the road and stopped to take a rest. Whilst sitting among the rocks in the stream, we spotted small grey crabs hiding behind the rocks. While searching for the crabs, to our surprise, we discovered small silvery swordfish about two inches long! Crabs and swordfish in a mountain stream 600 meters above sea-level? I thought they can only be found in the sea.
A few years back, I hiked up to Tea Garden again. I was eager to look for the crabs and swordfish once more but it was not to be. The road and bungalow were gone, completely covered by thick jungle, but, in the distance, I could still hear the rushing water of the stream.

There was once a cricket

There was once a cricket
Who,somehow, obtained a ticket
To watch a game of cricket
In the city of Nantucket

But his stepmother, so wicked
Who dislikes this little cricket
Decided to throw away the ticket
Into the dirty waste basket

Alas, the floor of parquet
Was not well-laid and crooked
And so the stepmother, so wicked
Fell and kicked the bucket

p.s.
Darn, I must be in one of those silly moods again.

Chap Goh Meh

In a few days time, it will be “Chap Goh Meh”, the 15th day of the first lunar month and also, the last day of the Chinese New Year celebrations. On this day, the Kitchen God will return from Heaven after completing his task.

First, I would like to tell you a little bit about the Kitchen God and Heaven. The Kitchen God is sent by the Heavenly King to the kitchens of every Chinese household to keep an eye on us and on Chinese New Year Day (the first day of the first lunar month), he will ascend to Heaven to report to the Heavenly King our good and bad deeds for the year. Because there are so many of us, he is given fifteen days to complete his report which is why the Chinese New Year is celebrated for fifteen days.
Those of us who have been naughty would start praying to the Kitchen God a week before Chinese New Year Day offering the sweet and sticky steamed glutinous rice pudding called Nian Kao (or Tee Koey in Hokkien) with the hope that it will “glue” his mouth together so that he can only mumble when he present his report to the Heavenly King. In Heaven, all reports must be presented orally.

Heaven is a palace in the clouds where the Heavenly King and Queen live with their army, palace officials and servants and is not in Machu Picchu , as has been previously reported. Frequent fliers may have spotted the palace amongst the clouds during one of their flights. The Chinese flier will be filled with joy as he knows it is only the very lucky few who get a glimpse of Heaven. The non-Chinese flier will think that it is a mirage. Why, it has even been mistaken for a UFO!

Note:
The Chinese population has increased tremendously so there is a likelihood that in the near future, the Heavenly King would allow the Kitchen God one month to complete his report which, of course, would mean that the Chinese New Year celebrations would also be extended to a month.
The Kitchen God can only ascend to or descend from Heaven on the 1st or 15th of the lunar month because on these two nights, the full moon will enable him to find his way. Oh, the Kitchen God cannot travel by day because, after being secluded in the kitchen for a year, the bright daylight would hurt his eyes.

In the old days in China, young boys and girls are allowed to meet each other only on the night of Chap Goh Meh. Dressed in their very best, the young people will stroll along the rivers and lakes, using lanterns to light the way. Hence, Chap Goh Meh is also known as the Lantern Festival.
When a boy sees a girl he fancies, he will throw an apple into the water near her. If the girl likes the boy too, she will respond by throwing an orange back in his direction. However, not everyone is so lucky so it is wise to bring along a basketful of apples. You can imagine the desperate ones running around frantically throwing apples at all and sundry in the hope of getting a favourable response. Boy! What would they give to be a member of an online dating site!


Lee

P.S.
This article is based on tales related by my grandma, what I heard at the marketplace and coffee shops and a little imagination.

Fireflies For Sale

The recent cold winter and heavy snowfall in China, Canada and other northern countries has given me the idea of exporting fireflies to these countries for the winter.
I know a lot of you will be sceptical about the idea and think that the fireflies cannot survive the bitter cold. But, according to my grandpa, the “fire” in their bellies not only allows the firefly to provide light but also warmth, and he should know.
As a boy in China, during the cold winter nights when he and his siblings huddled around a jar of fireflies to study, they could feel the warmth emanating from the fireflies.
Now, I have always known my grandpa to be an honest man so I am going to believe him and not any scientific hocus-pocus that says otherwise.

I intend to sell my fireflies in 3 amounts: the 25 fireflies jar, the 50 fireflies jar and the 100 fireflies jar.
According to grandpa, the 25 fireflies jar is enough to warm one’s heart. So if you are a couple, I would suggest the 50 fireflies jar and, if you have more than one partner, then I strongly recommend the 100 fireflies jar.
If you buy in bulk, I can offer you a 10% discount. So hurry up if you are interested and place your orders with me now.

By the way, I am also looking for agents to market my fireflies. The firefly is a clean form of alternative energy and during this time of spiraling oil prices, I can assure you that this will be a very good investment. So, seize the chance. Contact me now!

However, I still have one minor problem to solve: How to feed the fireflies in your country?
Grandpa said he fed the fireflies with leaves from the “firefly” tree. In Malaysia, the “firefly” tree is a mangrove tree called the Berembang which is found lining the banks of our rivers.

First, I have tried feeding them with dried Berembang leaves but the fireflies complained that they are not fresh.
Next, I have tried feeding them with the juice from ground Berembang leaves but the fussy fireflies claimed that the juice makes them too heavy to fly.
Now, I am working on my “leaf-pelleting” machine which would turn the leaves into pellets but I am almost sure that the recalcitrant fireflies are going to say that the pellets are too dry.

So, here is my proposal. If any of you have any bright idea how to solve this problem, please contact me. If it works, I am prepared to offer you a partnership in the business.

Beneath The Open Skies

I'm lying here inside the tent
Gazing into the starry night
Snugly wrapped, in quiet content
Ensnared by the camp-fire’s light

Leaves rustle gently in the breeze
The tree-tops alluringly sway
The lost wind through the branches squeeze
Stubbornly searching for its way

Hoping to see a shooting star
As it journeys across the sky
Tonight my greatest wish by far
Is to run with the firefly

The bullfrog’s throaty courtship song
The night owl’s haunting piercing cry
The babbling stream, creeping along
Sing nature’s awesome lullaby

As my eyes close, heavy with sleep
Upon the earth, my head I lay
Dozing softly, comfy and deep
Until another brilliant day

When Love Dies

When love dies,

Are you surprised
By its demise
Do you know why
Do you want to cry

When love dies, do you

Mire in sorrow
As the tears flow
Cling to the memories
The forgotten promises

When love dies, can you

Wish him all the best
Harbour no regrets
Realise it’s not to be
Grudgingly set him free

BEGIN -島人ぬ宝

okinawa

Begin - Sanshin No Hana [NHK]

Rimi Natsukawa - Nada Sousou

Nada Sou Sou

I Want To Dance With A Fairy .....

I want to dance with a fairy
And make my dreams come true
As the kind and lovely lady
Always grant a wish or two

If I were to drink with a goblin
And down pints and pints of ale
Would he take me treasure-hunting
Across meadows and down dale

I will sing with a merry elf
Even if I go out of tune
If it brings me fabulous wealth
And eternal good fortune

If I can follow a leprechaun
To the end of the rainbow
I can sneak off at the crack of dawn
With a monstrous pot in tow

I will joust with the noble dragon
For some fine lady’s hand
And when I wed the pretty maiden
There shall be a Rock band

If only I have the pleasure
Of hobnobbing with a gnome
I can admire the fabled treasure
And take some of it home

I would love to ride the mystical unicorn
And gallivant around the world
From the Northern Lights down to Cape Horn
In search of the elusive Black Pearl

If I can do all of the above
I shall be richer than a king
I will give it all to my one true love
The love that means everything