Global Bersih: Connecting Malaysians Around the World

This article was first published in The Malaysian Insider on 8 June 2012.

When a work engagement required me to be in Washington DC on April 28, I decided to meet some fellow Malaysians who were involved in Global Bersih 3.0: Washington DC for the purpose of writing this article. I wanted to bring their stories home with me.

Exhausted from a full day of an “unconference” and heavily deprived of sleep from an all-nighter of monitoring “live” tweets on the rally, I waited patiently for my company to arrive. They were going to end their march at the Malaysian Kopitiam, a tradition that started on July 9 last year.

I ordered a glass of “teh tarik” but when it arrived at my table, it was just regular hot tea with milk and sugar served on a small cup and saucer. Not the real thing naturally, but authentic Malaysian cuisine was not why I was there.

While waiting for nearly an hour, I kept myself alert by listening to other people’s conversations with my eyes closed, giving the illusion that I wasn’t eavesdropping. It wasn’t difficult at all since I was close to being brain dead.

Two waitresses, presumably Malaysians, were quizzing each other at the bar on what the rally was all about in Cantonese. Although they were speaking under their breath, I could identify the gossipy tones of a hush-hush conversation between two nosey neighbours across the fence.

They ended their conversation abruptly when a party of eight Americans walked in. One of them shrugged her shoulders and before she left hastily to welcome the party, she ended by sighing, “Haiyah. Who really knows? It has nothing to do with us, right?”

Once the loud conversations ensued at the table, I established that the Americans were probably members of a foodie club of some sort. Their leader began to introduce the dishes, which had been pre-ordered because they were all served shortly after they were seated.

The leader insisted that everyone must absolutely try the curry puff and “popiah.” To reinforce her authority, she continued to share her knowledge of Malaysian food culture and how she thought the food in Penang was one of the best she had ever tried in Asia. The rest nodded in sheer admiration of her worldly wisdom.

As soon as the tiny door to the basement of the building, where the modest restaurant is located, opened, a hyped-up small group of young Asians and two Caucasians in bright yellow T-shirts entered. Unmistakably, they were the company I had been expecting. I recognised Kean and Andrea whom I had met a few days ago and I was quickly introduced to the others.

I was happy to see Andrea again. Behind that quiet and shy demeanour, she’s fondly known as “the slayer” at The Hatchet, a student paper at the George Washington University, where she served as senior editor. We had met at a campus bar at the university where she’ll be finishing her journalism degree soon.

Having interned with an online news portal in Malaysia a few months back, she was fully apprised of the political situation in Malaysia. Coming from a country where a permit for peaceful assembly is often required only to provide the police sufficient time to implement regulatory measures aimed at minimising obstructions to public life, rather than to restrict the right to peaceful assembly per se, she said she was shocked that this should happen in Malaysia.

Like Andrea, Mike, also an American, shared the same sentiment that peaceful assembly is a universal right that should be supported. Before being married to the lovely Grace, he said that he was not aware of the political situation in Malaysia at all.

Now, he’s happy to share this cause with his Malaysian wife who looked radiant in an identical Bersih T-shirt, concealing her protruding belly. They’re expecting their first born soon. The couple had travelled more than one hour to be at the march that day.

Grace holds a green card but is unwilling to revoke her citizenship. She’s been catching up on Malaysian news through an online news portal and is obviously concerned about reports on electoral fraud.

She grew up in a politically savvy family in Malaysia and such events are not foreign to her. She certainly didn’t look as if the rally was such a big deal to her as she happily tucked into her fried noodles.

I turned to Lee who was sitting quietly across the table. From her silence, I could sense that she was not too eager to share her “Bersih stories.” This piqued my curiosity even more. After some gentle probing, she confessed that she didn’t want to be visibly seen to support Bersih.

“I just don’t want to get into trouble with the Malaysian embassy, you know. I still rely on them for diplomatic assistance,” she justified herself.

“But why are you here today?” I asked.

She said she attended the march because she was curious but that didn’t eliminate the fear factor for her.

Playing the devil’s advocate, I couldn’t resist asking, “How do you feel though when you see what’s happening today in Malaysia? Hundreds of thousands of people are abandoning their fear to fight for electoral reform. Isn’t that inspirational to you? If they can abandon that fear, why not you?”

She didn’t answer my question immediately. I could see she was weighing my question carefully, possibly not because she didn’t know the answer but how she could respond to me as calmly as possible. Perhaps my question sounded judgmental because when she did finally answer, I could sense tears brimming in her eyes.

I thought I detected a quivering voice when she said, “Malaysians living in Malaysia don’t have to be at the mercy of the government to go on with their livelihood. Not me. I need them to sort out my paperwork here.” A split second later, she quickly added, “I’m living here on my own. What happens if I need the embassy’s help one day? I attend embassy functions occasionally. I know some of the people working there. I, I just don’t want to get into trouble.”

Lee was right. I was being judgmental and as soon as I heard her, I realised that she was conflicted. I thought to myself what kind of a country am I living in when people are afraid of its government even when they are thousands of miles away from it?

“Would you be less fearful if there’s a change in government?” I ventured to ask.

“Yes, yes. I think it would be better,” Lee answered but for now she’s trying her luck to obtain a green card in America.

The conversation soon turned into the green card lottery system, a system that allows 50,000 eligible immigrants to obtain permanent residency annually. Lee then made an announcement that another Malaysian she knows had just recently won the lottery, much to the others’ envy.

Kean changed the conversation by sharing his horror story of the Malaysian consulate in Australia. Married to an Australian, he had gone through hell with the consulate while attempting to sort out the citizenship of his Australian-born child. The consulate had allegedly lost the paperwork and after four years, the process is still pending.

After more than an hour of animated conversation on Lina Joy and what not, I managed to talk to Feng, a post-graduate student, before we left.

“You know, I missed Bersih 1.0. Since then, I told myself I would never miss Bersih 2.0, if it happened again. So, I organised Bersih 2.0 in New York City last year. It was successful and those guys in NYC are really active. They know what to do. Of course, it’s still nothing compared to the students in Australia. They really have guts, courage and passion. More socially active, you know.”

Feng explained that no one from the Bersih Steering Committee had instructed them to start a chapter in New York and Washington DC. It was done independently. The only correspondence ever done with the Bersih Steering Committee was to get the latter to help them with the publicity.

“When [the idea of having a] Global Bersih came up, nobody in the States stepped up. Malaysians who are members of MCA [here] were against it. They said it would tarnish the country’s image. I gave up arguing with them because they wouldn’t listen.”

I asked Feng why those who were present at the march today were mostly of Chinese descent.

“Many Malays are on scholarships. They want to be a part of it but they’re fearful of the repercussions.” He then added quickly: “The same can be asked of Bersih 1.0. Why so few Chinese and Indians? It was mainly the Malays who started Bersih 1.0 but then Bersih 2.0 changed everything. I don’t think it’s valid or fair anymore to ask why only a certain race is fighting for this cause.”

I asked Feng my last question: “Have you ever been asked why you left the country if you love it?”

He laughed at my question and his answer caught me by surprise.

“Who said I love my country? I’m not a patriot. Look at people like Chin Huat and Ambiga. To me, they are the real patriots. They have a choice to leave Malaysia but they didn’t. I’m not a patriot but this seems to be the right thing to do. This is my right and I’m exercising it.”

“And what right is that?” I asked.

“I don’t want other people to fight for me anymore. I want to fight with them. That’s my right.”

Earlier that week, Kean explained that many of the Malaysian diaspora do feel guilty for living abroad. That sense of abandonment does exist. Global Bersih allows them to redeem their guilt by doing something; either by organising a rally, participating in one or simply just to donate money to the cause.

My conversations with my fellow Malaysians in Washington DC taught me something. Being a Malaysian is not necessarily defined by distance, but by spirit and essence. No amount of national ties can be severed if one continues to care about the people whom they’ve left behind and, in their absence, continue to do what they can for the people. For those who’ve asked what have these Malaysians abroad done for the country, perhaps a more valid question to ask is what are the Malaysians in Malaysia doing instead?

Missing out on Bersih 3.0 was totally unplanned. Although I had been critical of the rally’s impact on real electoral reform, I never doubted its tremendous ability to become a national event in the history of the country.

Attending Bersih 2.0 was to me a life-changing experience as a Malaysian. If anything, I felt more Malaysian than any other day that I’ve lived in the country and it gave me a thought — perhaps the younger generation has more difficulty grasping the concept of unity or “Malaysian-ness” as opposed to Malay, Chinese, Indian and “Yang Lain-Lain” is because we never really had to fight for a common purpose together.

Not until then, the fight has always been about who’s getting a bigger piece of the pie and who’s a “pendatang”? Whether or not Bersih has succeeded to achieve its main objectives, I believe that for many, it has taught us a valuable lesson — it’s not always about “them” and “us” but who we are and what we want together as Malaysians. This, unfortunately, is a lesson our education system has sorely failed to impart and uphold.

For those who have constantly upheld the excuse that Bersih has tarnished the country’s image, I urge them to back their statement up with evidence. During the “unconference” I attended, several participants from different countries actually referred to Malaysia as an authoritarian regime. Clearly, it wasn’t the demonstrators who had embarrassed the nation, but what the government is doing to the demonstrators that gave them that impression. Needless to say, I was embarrassed.

When I came home, I gave the only Bersih 3.0 Washington DC T-shirt I could snag up to a friend’s husband who was in Kuantan for work during the rally. I smiled and thought to myself, that’s how connected we all are.

 

Technorati Tags: Malaysian Kopitiam,Washington DC,Global Bersih,Bersih 3.0,Bersih 2.0,Bersih Story,peaceful assembly,Ambiga Sreenevasan,Wong Chin Huat,national unity,Bersih Steering Committee,Lina Joy

The unsung heroes of Malaysia

Originally posted on The Malaysian Insider under the title “Reconnecting with one’s identity” on 24 April 2011.

The year was 1996.

I was 15 years younger and also 15kg lighter (if only they are both inversely related).

My only worries were to pass my examinations and for the boy whom I had a huge crush on to give me his time of the day. In my mind, we would have beautiful babies together.

The thought of returning home never occurred to me but it didn’t stop me from being an active member of the Malaysian Student Society. United Kingdom seemed far better off then.

Although it has been 15 years, I still think about the days when we, the Malaysian students, put up a swashbuckling performance at the annual Malaysian Evening gala. We did Malaysia proud by being hospitable, warm and friendly ambassadors. Our enthusiasm and solidarity were infectious and we built friendships that transcend ethnicity and religious affiliations through those years.

I miss the days when the Malay-Boys-Who-Can-Sing-And-Play-Music living downtown would invite my friend and I for home-cooked fish head curries. Apparently the fishmonger next door were selling the discarded heads for peanuts and like monkeys, we devoured every single morsel with much gusto and appreciation.

We also had a Malay friend who could measure the saltiness of his girlfriend’s satay sauce just by sniffing at it. Hers was the best satay sauce I have ever tasted. To reciprocate, my friend and I would make popiah and to our great surprise, they were well-received.

I mustn’t forget our one and only Indian Malaysian student. He was known as the quiet and shy guy who was joined at the hips by two other Chinese Malaysian students. They were really nice because they never forget to celebrate my birthday when I was alone during Easter holiday.

That was the only time when I remember being Malaysian.

15 years later, I am older and the questions running through my mind are of a different nature.

Would my marriage survive? Will I become a mother? Have I done enough for my ageing parents? Would I be able to afford a vacation in the North Pole so that I can see the polar bears? Would I die for my country? Would Malaysia ever change?

At 35, I have become cynical and resentful of so many things in life. What is certain is that the years gone by have served as a cruel reminder of how brutal time and poor eating habit can be.

Having worked and lived in four war-torn countries has somehow contributed a lot to my increasing lack of faith and respect for humankind. Although Malaysia is not at war, apathetic Malaysians combined with a morally corrupted government do very little to change my perception of human beings.

At the end of the day, I deduce we’re all just the same.

That changed on 2 April 2011 at Fort Cornwallis, Penang.

Perhaps it’s true that everything does happen for a reason. What happened for me was to leave my cushy life as an expatriate’s wife and to accept the challenging task of helping Malaysians understand the Federal Constitution. And the reason? I desperately needed to restore my faith as a Malaysian again.

The “Rock for Rights” concert organised by Bar Council’s MyConstitution Campaign, Saya Anak Bangsa Malaysia and Frinjan on 2 April, reminded me of the semangat Malaysia I felt 15 years ago, but only better as I didn’t have to be in a foreign land to feel that I belong.

While working on this project, I got to know many Malaysians from very different walks of life and was privileged to learn from them. Many of them are either students or hold regular jobs such as teaching, marketing, public relations, writing, computer programming, event planning, environmentalist and lawyer.

Being an amateur who struggled to put together a concert, the bands and those involved were understanding, patient and forgiving. Many of them were just grateful that they had this rare opportunity to share their artistic talent as musicians and message as Malaysians. They are clearly no ordinary bands as they were not driven by monetary gain but only by their passion as musicians and Malaysians.

I asked Darren Teh from An Honest Mistake why they had decided to participate in this project.

He replied “We want to bring our music to the next level which is to cause change in someone’s life. Being part of this project helps us achieve that. When people listen to our song and knowing the reason behind the lyrics, it helps them connect with us ‘emotionally’. Besides that, knowing that we are adding value to the community, raising awareness of our rights and educating them through music – we are going beyond the boundaries of music, beyond just simple listening pleasure. We are proud to have been part of this entire project.”

I asked Petak Daud, an 18 year-old musician who stunned the crowd with his soft acoustic renditions of songs that speak loudly against the abuse of power by the police and government, what gave him the courage to sing such songs. He said, “The situation surrounding us is becoming worse. We’re like decomposing fleshes which in a matter of time will disappear altogether. This is my mission. I want to wake Malaysians up so that they can see the abuse taking place in this country.”

If a seemingly shy 18 year-old boy who unwittingly scratches his hair while he speaks on stage has the courage to sing such songs, why are most of us still keeping silent?

Azmyl Yunor has a theory – shopping malls and capitalism. According to him, Malaysia’s rapid economic growth over the last three decades has metamorphosised us from being Malaysians to creatures who are continuously motivated by economic gain above everything else. Before we could truly understand who we are as a nation, we occupy our time by shopping.

I told Azmyl that I was shocked by how passive the crowd was at Fort Cornwallis. While some of us cheered and danced to the music, many kept their seats warm by just watching without any expression on their faces. He smiled at my observation and shared his other theory of self-censorship.

Decades of living in a country where preventive laws and religious teachings are imposed have taught us that freedom of expression is vulgar and wrong. He said music is a form of escape. He wouldn’t be caught dead screaming on top of his lungs and rolling on the floor under normal circumstances.

The night was high when Barcode got everyone up to sing the Negaraku. I was exhilarated and I sang our anthem like how most kids would sing to Justin Bieber these days. And like the cool night breeze that provided us with much comfort, the affirmation that I love Malaysia came.

Ammar Khairi from Maharajah Commission shared similar sentiments. He said, “I sincerely hope that there will be many more patriotic souls in Malaysia as opposed to nationalists or even worse, haters. The difference is, a patriotic person would give out his heart and soul for the country and yet continually criticise constructively for a better Malaysia, whereas nationalistic pride is nothing more than waving the flag and declare your allegiance blindly and accepting everything that is told to you by the powers-that-be as the supreme truth.”

Later that night, the party continued. We, the Malaysians, shared and celebrated our identity by laughing and dancing the night away. Fellow columnist, June Rubis who flew in all the way from Sarawak to be our emcee (and to be starved as she emceed for 12 hours straight), screamed on top of her lungs, “I love you, you and you!” She whispered to me and said she would do it all over again.

I stayed high for the next couple of days. 15 years is a long wait after all.

Technorati Tags: Rock for Rights,Bar Council,MyConstitution Campaign,Frinjan,Saya Anak Bangsa Malaysia,Azmyl Yunor,An Honest Mistake,Maharajah Commission,Petak Daud,Barcode,Fort Cornwallis,Penang,June Rubis

Rocking for rights

This was first posted at The Malaysian Insider under the title “The message is in the song” on 13 March 2011.

Bob Marley once sang these famous words:

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery

None but ourselves can free our minds

Have no fear for atomic energy

Cause none of them can stop the time

I wonder whether he was high on weed when he was writing those words. Whether he was or wasn’t, this song went on to become one of the most iconic songs for those who value freedom, particularly of the mind.

This article is about political expression in music. But before anyone jumps into conclusion that this is going to be an anti-government propaganda, here’s an interesting fact. Politics and music are not just about anti-establishment, anti-war or peaceful expression of protest against any form of government or political ideology. It can also be pro-establishment such as seen in the national anthem or patriotic songs.

So, if anyone starts criticising that music with political theme is evil, let’s be reminded that the Negaraku, which contains the lyrics Raja kita selamat bertakhta, is a song that all primary and secondary school students are compelled to sing first thing in the morning in schools.

I’ve always thought that political expression in music is a fairly recent phenomenon. When I think about music and politics, I usually picture half a million demonstrators gathered at Washington D.C and sang Give Peace a Chance by John Lennon in peaceful protest of the Vietnam War in 1969.

I was, of course proven wrong when I google searched and discovered that classical composers such as Beethoven, Verdi, Shostakovich, Stravinsky, just to name a few, have been known to compose music that had either abhorred foreign domination or venerated a particular regime. We, who live in this modern era, tend to identify more with singers and bands such as Bob Dylan, John Lennon, The Clash, U2, Rage Against the Machine, Bob Marley, Sex Pistols and many others when it comes to expressing political messages through music.

When it comes to spreading and sharing messages, nothing has been quite as effective as music, which explains why Christians still sing praises to God and the Taliban banned it in Afghanistan.

Music can either reinforce a message, or destroy it; depending on which side you’re looking from. After all, music is a manifestation of freedom and for some, this is something to be feared of.

In 1990, a non-profit and non-partisan organisation called Rock the Vote emerged in the United States of America to attract the seriously declining youth population to register as voters and to vote in the election. Its modus operandi is none other than music, popular culture and new technologies. The campaign was so successful that the percentage of registered young voters increased by 20% within 2 years since its inception. In 2004, more than 1.2 million youths registered as voters on its website. I believe wide participation by celebrity spokesperson such as Christina Aguilera, Robert Downey Jr., Leonardo DiCaprio and Justine Timberlake plays a part in making this campaign a major hit.

In 2004, rapper Sean “P Diddy” Combs, led a not-for-profit organisation called Citizen Change responsibled for the campaign called Vote or Die. In the 2004 US elections, the campaign attracted 20.9 million young voters from the age of 18 to 29; a staggering change from the 16.2 million young voters in 2000. This inevitably helped to raise the overall percentage of voters in America in 2004.

Today, I want to write about a somewhat similar campaign in Malaysia but without the violence. Nobody is going to die but hopefully many will start to vote.

I learn that there are 27 million Malaysians, 11 million voters, 4 million more eligible Malaysians who haven’t registered to vote. I also learn that we have a Federal Constitution that guarantees all of us rights, freedoms and a democratic system of government that answers to us. But the question is: how many Malaysians know this?

The information above can be found on the CD inlay of Radio Demokratika, a music album produced by the Bar Council’s MyConstitution Campaign in conjunction with its Elections and Democracy theme. Some of you may have seen the eye-catching pocket-sized booklets that contain a wealth of information pertaining to the Federal Constitution produced by the Campaign, but this music album has only been making its debut just recently.

Last Saturday, amidst a decent crowd of more than 200 people, the album was launched at Pekan Frinjan 18, a regular event organised by Frinjan at Dataran Shah Alam. Close to 100 copies of the album was sold within that couple of hours, especially after an electrifying live performances by some of the bands.

Radio Demokratika features 12 original songs written and performed by 12 local independent bands. I was told that names such as Azmyl Yunor, Carburetor Dung, amongst others, are infamous in the underground music scene and no strangers to many urban youths since more than two decades ago.

There are many strong qualities about this album. Apart from the obvious fact that the songs are mainly about the Federal Constitution and socio-political issues that concern Malaysian youths such as inter-racial relationships, freedom of expression and political responsibilities, it has huge potential to unite youths from all racial divide and in so doing, encourage them to play a role in making Malaysia a better place to live.

As I listen to the lyrics of one of the songs that goes like this:

We’ll be the change that our nation needs to see

We’ll turn the dream into reality to be

A land that’s peaceful and strong

Which fights for right against wrong

And all of its people united and free!

I’ve begun to realise that this is precisely what this Campaign has hoped for.

There is no doubt that this Campaign can never achieve the same kind of magnitude that Rock the Vote or Vote or Die have achieved but make no mistake that it has great potential, with your support.

There is nothing more refreshing than this campaign as you flip through the morning headlines that write about nothing but what Barisan Nasional or Pakatan Rakyat have or have not done. The Campaign does not speak about political parties but only political issues.

Mahatma Gandhi once said: "The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated."

I’ll say that the greatness of a truly democratic nation can be judged by how well we have emancipated ourselves from mental slavery.

Sex, drugs and HIV/AIDS

This article was first published in The Malaysian Insider on 9 November 2010. Below is the original version.

It was another quintessential night in Chow Kit; hot, humid, red and reeking with the thick smell of danger for those who would shun the district. Celeste, Joanna, Samantha and Lola lined the street of Lorong Haji Taib. In between small chats with each other, they call out indiscriminately to men walking by; teasing them unabashedly in their deep hoarse voices. For those who bother to play along, they are rewarded with flying kisses.

The night was slow but not devoid of excitement. Just as the night, they came slowly and quietly for them. They are ambushed by a group of uniformed policemen. Lola and Samantha manage to escape. Celeste and Joanna are quickly handcuffed and brought to the police station.

Less than 24 hours later, Celeste is released. Joanna? Dead. But not before being forced to perform sexual favours on the commanding officer while being restrained by his two subordinates. They eventually “finish” her off by applying multiple blows to her skull when she refuses to let them take her from behind.

Joanna never had a chance.

Celeste returns with a mission. She saw what they did to Joanna and vowed never to end up as another unclaimed corpse. She pleads with her friends to stand united and fight for their honour and lives. Together, they vow never to be silent again.

Celeste’s blood-chilling and piercing cry, “Joanna dah mati!” would echo in their minds forever.

It may not be as real as Poh Si Teng’s acclaimed documentary “Pecah Lobang”, a Freedom Film Fest winner in 2008, but that was the script used by the Bar Council MyConstitution Campaign team to send out a strong message to sex workers and Mak Nyahs at the Jom ke Chow Kit Carnival at Lorong Haji Taib on 31 July 2010.

Above: The MyConstitution Campaign team

It took the team a few days to put together the skit but not without first spending hours after hours debating and deciding on a suitable yet effective message. Most of the team members were lawyers but none of them knew what sort of message would make an impact on one of the oldest professions in the world.

Lawyers are useful when it comes to giving advice on what to do when one is being arrested but what can they tell a highly stigmatised community who not only are prime targets of the police and religious authorities, but also vulnerable to abuse and violence?

Joanna

That was when the team decided to tell the story of Joanna, a transsexual sex worker who died in police custody.

The message was simple. It is louder when four persons scream at the same time than just one. The chances of being heard are higher if you continue to scream. Sooner or later, someone will hear you.

The crowd responded. They laughed and cheered when they saw Celeste, Joanna, Samantha and Lola blowing kisses in the air. The atmosphere turned sombre and quiet when Joanna was being tortured by the officers. Some wore grave expressions on their faces as they watched Celeste bringing news of Joanna’s death and crying out in anguish. They clapped thunderously when the girls came together and agreed to do something about it.

The image of helpless Joanna being forced to face her opponents alone is more real than imagined. Most of us are aware of the discrimination and injustice faced by the community of sex workers, yet we choose to keep silent and stay ignorant of it. While we will readily acknowledge the right to live, life without dignity and justice is not a life worth living.

The organiser, the PT Foundation (PTF), is to be commended for providing an opportunity and platform for people living with HIV/AIDS, sex workers, drug abusers, men-who-have-sex-with-men (MSM), gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgender people to learn more about their rights and HIV/AIDS. Combating HIV/AIDS is after all one of the UN Millennium Development Goals.

According to the Ministry of Health’s statistics in 2009, there are 86,000 reported cases of HIV/AIDS in Malaysia. Everyday, 15 Malaysians are diagnosed HIV positive and the majority of them are men. 34% are in their twenties. The high-risk groups are surprisingly not sex workers, drug users or homosexuals. They are fishermen, factory workers, long distance drivers, housewives and heterosexuals.

Jeremy

Speaking to Jeremy provided a sense of comfort and assurance. He came across as someone who is wise and easy to talk to; and he is a gay man who occasionally also drags or crossdresses as a woman in special functions such as at the Jom ke Chow Kit Carnival.

Jeremy works towards educating and sensitising people on the importance of safe sex, sexuality and self-acceptance - all the right qualities to help fulfil PTF’s objectives.

I first spotted Jeremy when he was standing in front of the stage with a microphone in his hand. He was giving out a series of HIV/AIDS related trivia. It was difficult not to notice him as he was dressed in a black body-hugging t-shirt, hot pants, black stockings and Mary Jane shoes. In addition to his thick make-up, he was a picture of confidence and determination as he asked the crowd, “Can you get HIV/AIDS by holding someone’s hands?” while loud pumping techno beats were playing on the background.

Later in a private interview, Jeremy disclosed that he had come a long way before his family and friends accepted his sexuality. He was reluctant to call this episode in his life a problem but preferred to see it as a challenge instead. He added that at the end of the day, what’s really important is for a gay person to come to terms with his own sexuality, first. But it is important to take the time to figure out who he really is before arriving at that critical juncture.

When asked whether he faced any discrimination while growing up as a homosexual, he answered no. He explained that Malaysia is that sort of country where you would not get into trouble if you do not tell. An example is how PTF is not allowed to publicly inform people that they provide counselling to gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgender (GLBT) people. They may only call it “sexuality counselling”.

He also said that while law enforcement authorities do not harass PTF directly, they face many obstacles when trying to implement their HIV/AIDS education and prevention programme for sex workers in massage parlours, karaoke lounges, motels and nightclubs. These places are raided by anti-vice enforcement officers and too often in the presence of PTF, which consequently prevents the businesses from wanting to engage with PTF.

When asked who his hero is, Jeremy declares that he is his own inspiration. His father once told him in an acceptance speech, “Whatever you do, you’re an adult now. You’re responsible for your own life.” He said that it is important for everyone to be themselves because in the end, it is up to each individual to find out who they are and to grow comfortably into their own shoes.

Eddie

Such positive self-image was unfortunately not seen in Eddie, a 39 year-old former drug user. He was seen sitting alone at the back of a tent, quietly colouring his face with bright blue paint.

When I asked him what he was doing at the Carnival, he insisted that I would not be able to stomach his answer. “If I tell you, you won’t be able to take it. So, I rather not say anything,” he said to me again and again and all the while avoiding eye contact.

After some coaxing, he revealed that he is HIV positive. He said most people who learned about his condition would run away. We ended up having a long chat about his life story.

According to Eddie, he started using drugs when he was 15-years old. His family moved to Kuala Lumpur from a small village in Negeri Sembilan. He experienced culture shock and was not able to adapt to city life. Due to existing family problems, he experimented with drugs and it subsequently became a means of escape for him.

He spent most of his adult life in and out of prison and rehabilitation in Sungai Buloh and Kajang. He still remembers starving in prison where inmates were under-fed and often resorted to eating left over fish bones and banana peels. When asked whether he was ever physically abused by prison guards, he replied, “Only if you disobey them. That’s all I’m willing to say.”

He said many inmates died in rehabilitation due to their weak and frail physical conditions, mostly pronounced by poor nutrition. Like him, most of them had no families or friends who would miss their absence. The moment they all discovered how low they had sunk, they would drop out of their lives.

Eddie added, “It hurts. It hurts greatly to see how they looked at me with disgust. Once when I came out of rehab, I had the will to turn over a new leaf. I really wanted to change my life. When I got home, my mother and sisters were busy cooking the whole day. Do you know why? They had planned to feed me well and then send me away for good. I never saw them again.”

When asked whether he is afraid of death, he paused briefly before admitting that he is more afraid of dying a painful death and being alone.

I asked him whether he ever regretted his actions that have led him to this situation, he answered bitterly, “Of course! Who would want to live like this? Because of my health condition and medical treatment, I’m feeling sick all the time. I can’t find work and I have no money or friends.”

Access to assistance

That night, 40 people were arrested by the police on their way to the Carnival which incidentally, was endorsed by the Ministry of Health. They were apparently tested for drugs. As fellow columnist, June Low wrote in her blog, thanks to the police, these 40 individuals missed out on a chance to learn more about the risk of HIV/AIDS.

There is something fundamentally wrong when people are being stopped from having access to help. It is morally sinful when people are being deprived of such an opportunity.

Is it because they are different? Is it because they are considered as moral pariahs?

It is time to ask ourselves these questions.

What makes these people different from us? What makes them so contemptible that we allow them to fight their battles alone? Does that not make us even more contemptible for not coming to their defence?

Finally, how many of us actually give ourselves to others without expecting anything in return; whether it is for love, sex, financial security, companionship, procreation or power?

Answer this truthfully and you’ll know that we are all the same in the end.

I asked Eddie what keeps him alive.

He replied, “What keeps me going is that every year I vow to change my life for the better. I vow to take my methadone and anti-retroviral treatments more diligently. I vow to secure a job to keep me financially independent. I’ll be 40 soon and I think there’s hope. After all, isn’t it true what the Western people say about life beginning at 40?”

The question is: will he live to see that change?

The World March for Peace and Non-Violence, Kuala Lumpur – 10 October 2009

The quiet and posh residential area in Jalan Bangkung, Bangsar, was hit by a tidal wave of loud music, vibrant live performances, piercing whistle blows and screams by throngs of people from all walks of life and (not forgetting) smoky scent of grilled meat, last night.

Sounds rowdy enough? Yes, but all for a good cause and it was done peacefully as well.

I usually go to Jalan Bangkung for two reasons; the restaurants and Bali Ayu spa. Last night was special because a group of NGOs; Voice of the Children, Women’s Aid Organization, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, NurSalam, World Without War and restaurant group Maxim Image (owners of Cava, Leonardo and Opus) came together to organize an event where Malaysians could gather in one place to express their solidarity and commitment to peace and non-violence. The night was marked by a candle-lighting ceremony and a not-so-solemn walk with lanterns around the strip of restaurants.

What I find interesting was how men, women and children from all ages and races were able to shed their cultural and political differences by holding hands and partying the night away. I smiled watching a man of about 60 years old with seemingly mild demeanour, clapping and dancing to the rhythm of hip drum beats. There were two men in the same age group; an Indian and a Sikh, waving the Jalur Gemilang at the front of the stage, while being observed by a foreigner who grinned with amusement.

Pet dogs of all shapes and sizes were not left out from the event as well. Many owners brought their furry friends to participate in the lantern march, much to the envy of neighbouring dogs, barking ruefully from the inside of gated residences. It was amusing observing some of them chastising their over-zealous pooches trying to sniff around the lower regions of those walking at the front.

It was also an expressive night where ordinary people displayed slogans on banners and T-shirts from “Stop violence against women”, “Are you a registered voter?” to “Love us, not eat us”. My favourite was, “An eye for an eye will make the whole world blind” by Mahatma Gandhi and one which says, “I am woman, hear me roar”.

The live performances were refreshing, energetic and pretty darn entertaining but nothing still touch the people quite as much as Michael Jackson’s Heal the World when it came on the loud speaker.

What I saw last night taught me one lesson. We can achieve unity and peace as a multi-cultural nation, if we want to. It was rare for me to see Malaysians of all races gathered together in a place where pork, beef and alcohol were served with the present of dogs, and non-Chinese children  took to the street with Chinese lanterns of all shapes and sizes. Nobody came out and accused anyone of being disrespectful of any particular religion but instead focussed on respecting each other’s diversity without compromising their own.

I wish everyday could be like this and not just during an annual event. We should remind ourselves each day that we need to heal the world and make it a better place.

Peace to everyone!

Mother’s Day – A time for reflection

I can’t believe that I have forgotten about Mother’s Day but then again, I haven’t celebrated Mother’s Day with my Mother for a long time. I know that this note came a day too late but as they say, better late than never.

In the past few years, when I could, I would send a Mother’s Day card to my Mother from wherever I was. Otherwise, I tend to believe that the best way for me to pay tribute to my Mother is by not giving her unnecessary grief or any reason to be worry about me. I hope that I have succeeded in doing that and this is the least I can do for her.

In essence, I wish that everyday is Mother’s Day because mothers who really care hardly relinquish their role and they’re not mothers only on the first Sunday of every May. They are mothers every single day and many until the day they die.

I was reminded of Mother’s Day when I read Susan Loone’s blog entry bearing the title, “Not Everyone Wants A Mother’s Day”.  I thought it was a courageous and refreshing article. It provides a completely different perspective, shying away from the usual “airy-fairy” tales paying tribute to Mummy Dearest.

Since I am lucky to have a Mother who devotes her whole life to protecting my interest and was brought up in a circle of relatives and friends who have the same kind of mothers, my first encounter with “bad mothers” came about when I was in Afghanistan.

I was then working as a Human Rights Officer with the United Nations and came across a case where a woman was hung to death after she was accused of adultery. The facts presented to me were both shocking and sad. In order to redeem the family’s honour, the woman’s mother had sent her to the gallows with her own hands.

The thought of a mother giving up her daughter for death is inconceivable and against the law of nature as I thought it is the primal instinct of all mothers to defend and protect their offspring at all cost. As much as I question how a mother could have done that, I also wonder how a daughter would have felt knowing that her own mother is responsible for her death.

I’ve also read many stories where mothers have allowed their husbands or lovers to rape their daughters. What about mothers who abuse their children? In Cambodia, I’ve encountered cases where mothers sell their daughters to slavery and prostitution.  These are things which I can never understand and in some ways, I do wonder whether these mothers have themselves being victims of abuse when they were young.

Luckily enough, not all mothers are bad and in fact, a lot of the mothers I’ve known are simply amazing. They each try to bring up their children the best way they can.

Not too long ago, I managed to catch up with a friend who is taking care of her two young children; all by herself without the help of a maid or nanny. I am often amazed by how much energy she has because attending to the needs of two young children is not an easy feat and she seems to be managing it well on her own. She told me that there is a deep sense of satisfaction knowing that she could impart life skills and values to her children. Not many people are able to see or understand that motherhood is not just about feeding, bathing and providing shelter to their children. It’s much more than that and above all, it’s about bringing up children who will become responsible and independent adults.

To end this note, I think Mother’s Day should be a day for reflection. It’s a day for mothers to think about how much they have contributed towards shaping their children’s lives in a positive manner. It’s also a day for children to think about how much they have done in return for all the sacrifices their mothers have done for them.

“Our World. Your Move” Campaign: Celebrating World Red Cross and Red Crescent Day

“All can, in one way or another, each in his own sphere, and within his own limitations, do something to help move the good work forward.”

These powerful words were uttered by Henry Dunant following the Battle of Solferino 150 years ago. The founder of the Red Cross/Red Crescent Movement was one who believed that individuals have the power to make a difference and why not? He was a living example of how one person managed to change the ethics and conduct of warfare which is enshrined in the Geneva Conventions.

On 24 June 1859, Henry Dunant, a Swiss businessman arrived in a small town in Solferino while on his way to Algeria. He witnessed the Battle of Solferino (part of the Austro-Sardinian war) which resulted in 40,000 soldiers on both sides dead or wounded in a single day. They were left on the battle field with no medical assistance. Horrified by the sight, Dunant abandoned his business plan and instead devoted to care for the wounded. He mobilized the local population to distribute aid to wounded soldiers without discrimination and this became the basis of humanitarian law.

This year is particularly special for the Red Cross/Red Crescent Movement (International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies, IFRC; International Committee of the Red Cross, ICRC; and National Red Cross/Red Crescent Societies, NS) because it is the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Solferino, 90th anniversary of the IFRC and 60th anniversary of the “modern day” Geneva Conventions and most significantly the 4th Convention.

I will not attempt to provide the historical background of the Red Cross/Red Crescent Movement in detail. Instead, I would like to focus on the National Red Cross/Red Crescent Societies, IFRC and my own experience with them.

It wasn’t until five years ago when I first heard about the IFRC. When we talk about the Red Cross, we often think about the ICRC and since I met my husband who works for the IFRC, I began to understand more about the Red Cross/Red Crescent Movement.

There is a Red Cross/Red Crescent society in almost every country today. In Malaysia, we have the Red Crescent society and as a child, I remember being a member of the society in primary school. Unfortunately, I associated the society with marching in the sweltering heat of our tropical climate. I did not learn first aid, neither did I volunteer to raise fund for any victims of natural disaster. At that time, AIDS did not exist yet and I was definitely not aware of any food insecurity situation in the country, if there ever was. I hope that things have changed since then because being a member of the Red Crescent society is not about engaging oneself in boot camp activities.

About twenty years later, I learned that the IFRC is a federation of all the Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies and is based in Geneva, Switzerland. Unlike the ICRC, the IFRC is represented by the National Red Cross/Red Crescent Societies from each member state, very much like the United Nations and each country can only have one National Red Cross/Red Crescent Society (based on one of its seven fundamental principles of unity).

Although the IFRC carries out all the activities one would expect; disaster management, food security, health, etc., one of its main functions is also to provide capacity building and support to local national Red Cross/Red Crescent societies. As such, a huge bulk of its mandate is to work closely with local NSs.

When my husband received a job placement in Ethiopia, I volunteered for the Ethiopian Red Cross Society (ERCS). It was then when I first learned about the dynamics of the Red Cross Movement having lived and worked with those who were either involved with the IFRC, ERCS or ICRC. I would say that the experience was invaluable as it broadens up my own scope of understanding in terms of human rights as well as institutional operations.

Some would like to define humanitarian law as the human rights aspects of war and what this essentially means is that even during a civil or international conflict, the basic rights of soldiers and civilians must be observed regardless of political, religious, gender, racial or other forms of orientation. Although this is more or less what the ICRC’s mandate is, the IFRC and NSs often concentrate on humanitarian relief during times of war and peace.

In many ways, I find that working for the Red Cross/Red Crescent Movement provides instant satisfaction when compared to the United Nations, which I worked for as a human rights officer several years ago. For instance, when there is a natural calamity, swift responses and actions are taken. There is no long discussion on diplomacy, international relations, politics or law. The main concern that triggers the whole movement is to save lives.

At a lower level where natural disasters are not the main issue, the Red Cross Movement concentrates on more basic needs such as health care, food distribution and over the past few years, tackling issues concerning climate change. Issues such as religious, political, cultural or criminal convictions are never in question. Neutrality is by far the most important principle which governs the whole Movement. To me, this is the essence of human rights.

Having said this, the intricacy of institutional relationships between the three entities (IFRC, NS and ICRC) can be a challenge and if so, it is mainly due to the issue of independence (they are all essentially independent bodies).  Nevertheless, due to their guiding principles of neutrality and humanity,  it is less complicated than the UN which is governed by State Members where politics often become the main issue of contention. The NS itself is independent from its own national government and hence should not be influenced by state policies.

As we slowly move into an era where human rights have become a major topic of concern, I would assume that many people often find it too daunting and dangerous to join in the struggles of activists who are often threatened by arrests and prison convictions in countries where civil and political rights are considered as devious forms of activities. If so, I would strongly encourage you to take up a humanitarian cause instead. While it is less “controversial”, the impact is not any lesser.

Providing basic needs to victims of natural disaster, learning first aid to save lives when it is needed, sensitizing people on HIV/AIDS and climate change, encouraging breastfeeding, educating people on road safety, etc. are all heroic acts that count towards sustaining humanity. You don’t have to become a champion for human rights by marching on the street in protest of government frailties, but you do need to take actions against other threats.

In conjunction with this year’s World Red Cross and Red Crescent Day, let’s remember what Henry Dunant said 150 years ago:

“All can, in one way or another, each in his own sphere, and within his own limitations, do something to help move the good work forward.”

IT IS OUR WORLD AND YOUR MOVE.

p/s: For more information, please refer to http://www.ifrc.org and http://www.icrc.org.

Nobody does wedding like the Cambodians do

(Photos – The beautiful and lovely wedding couple.)

Love is in the air and you can just feel it when you start to experience road blocks all over the city, hear loud live music which seems to reverberate in your neighbourhood at night and receive more than five wedding invitations in a month. Unfortunately for me, I only received one, but fortunately enough it was the mother of all weddings that I have ever attended.

Yes, this is the month where many young Cambodians decide to tie the knot and they do it with much pomp and circumstance in this hot and dry season. I think that February, March and April are chosen, not because they are considered as auspicious, but more of practicality. In a country where the majority of people still rely on tuk-tuks and motordop (motorcycles) as modes of transportation, the weather is an important factor to ensure a good turn-out at a wedding.

On 1 March 2009, I was honoured to be able to attend the wedding of one of my colleague’s daughter. It was truly a spectacular and colourful event. The traditional and cultural richness could only be matched by the display of brightly coloured and intricate weaving of Cambodian silks on the couple and guests’ attire.

One must be aware that Cambodians take the proverb “the early bird catches the worm” very seriously. As early risers and probably also to take advantage of the temporary cool morning air, the first part of a wedding ceremony usually starts as early as 7am. Traditionally, a Cambodian wedding lasts for 3 days and 3 nights, in association with the 3 jewels of Buddhism; the Buddha, the Sangha (brotherhood of monks) and the Dhamma (the teachings of Buddha). Now, it has been reduced to 1 day in big cities as urbanites get caught up with their hectic city lives.

 

(Photos – The procession. Bottom left: A young girl carrying two bottles of Johnnie Walker. Bottom right: Two smiling ladies carrying trays of dessert.)

A wedding typically starts off with a short procession where the families and friends of the bridegroom carry trays of meticulously wrapped gifts of fruits, dessert, dried food and drinks to the bride’s house. This practice is more of a symbolism now compared to previous times or in the village where the groom comes with a large entourage of people bearing gifts as dowry to the bride. For those who are curious and keen to participate in this, do remember to wear comfortable footwear. (I was not warned beforehand and did suffer a bit walking on my high heels although it was just less than 200m).

(Photos – The team of musicians, master of ceremony and singer entertaining the guests, leaving them in roars of laughter and delight.)

Once all the guests are settled in the house, married couples gather around the main ceremonial area (usually in a dining hall) in the presence of monks who will officiate the ceremony and the couple’s parents. Traditional music and songs are very important during a wedding for their auspicious meanings and moral values concerning couple relationship, obedience and respect for their parents.

(Photos – Carefully arranged gifts, ceremonial items and offerings for the altar.)

While waiting for the bride and groom to make an appearance, I couldn’t help but notice how every single ceremonial item was delicately arranged, wrapped or painted, from the flowers to the offerings. Needless to say, all guests were dressed in their best custom-tailored traditional costumes. I often wonder how many pairs of tailored dresses do the women own and how many times must one pay a visit to the hair salon to get their hair and make-up done? Yes, hair salons are big business in Cambodia where weddings are still considered as a scared part of their lives.

 

(Photo – Breakfast)

While the couple and monks get ready for the ceremony, all guests were treated with breakfast, served under a canopy set up in front of the house (and this explains the road congestion if a wedding is held in busy locations). I had one of the most sumptuous breakfast that day when I dug into generous helpings of hot rice noodle soup, served with condiments like bean sprouts, dried shrimps, pickled vegetables, lime juice and yau char kuey (deep fried long pieces of flour dough, usually in pairs). As dessert (yes, dessert even for breakfast!), I tucked into bite-sized sticky rice with desiccated coconut and palm sugar individually wrapped in banana leaves (a bit like the Malaysian version of pulut inti) and an assortment of fresh local fruits.

   

(Photos – Left: The couple giving blessings to each other. Right: A very elegant, beautiful and happy bride.)

Once my stomach was filled, it was time to sit in for the long ceremony. To narrow it down, I have chosen two main rituals; hair cutting and pairing ceremonies. The ceremonies are usually participated by close relatives and friends who are married only, while being observed by other guests. I was given the privilege to partake in the ceremonies due to the host’s hospitality, extended to a foreigner who appreciates live cultural exchanges.

(Photos – Left: Hair cutting ceremony. Right: Tying of the couple’s wrists by the bride’s parents.)

The hair cutting ceremony represents the fresh start to the couple’s lives as husband and wife. The bride and groom’s hair are symbolically cut first by the master of ceremony, then the couple’s parents and followed by their close relatives and friends. Blessings and wishes for the couple’s happiness, prosperity and longevity are given at the same time. To make their life fragrant, perfume is also sprayed on their hair. The groom will be hard pressed to know that the ignorant foreigner did actually cut off a small piece of his hair!

 

(Photos: Gifts for the couple during the string tying ceremony.)

Then, came the more arduous ritual, the pairing ceremony which consists of two parts; tying of the couple’s wrists and seven rotation. I really admire how the couple remain composed, elegant and graceful under the watchful eyes of guests, camera crew and not to mention uncomfortable seating positions and the heat.

Strings that have been immersed in holy water are tied onto the groom’s left wrist and the bride’s right, accompanied by the song that goes like this “We tie your left wrist to make you remember your parents. We tie your right wrist to make you carry on the family lineage and traditions." During this time, relatives take the opportunity to shower the couple with gifts such as jewelleries and money.

(Photos – The seven rotation ceremony.)

Once this is completed, a monk lights up a few bee-wax candles which are passed from one hand to the other around the couple seven times. The flame of the pure bee-wax candle represents anger, which the couple should avoid but the smoke of the flame is sacred enough to protect them from all evils if they are sincerely committed to each other. Family members who receive the candle, motion their hands over the flame to guide the smoke of the sacred flame over the bride and groom.

The ceremony was concluded with shower of palm flowers thrown at the new couple.

Albeit being long, I had thoroughly enjoyed this rare occasion. I feel that I had attended the wedding as an ignorant foreigner but returned as an enriched person. I thank the couple and their families for presenting me with this opportunity and wish all of them a lifetime of happiness, peace, good health and prosperity.

 

(Photos – Left: The parents of the bride watching the ceremony with mixed feelings; pride but at the same time a hint of sadness as their daughter starts a new chapter of her life. Right: The groom following the bride to mark the completion of the ceremony. In Cambodian culture, the groom stays with the bride’s family once they are married.)

Joy to the world!

 

I know I have expressed a lot of criticism towards Malaysia and it is time for me to show my appreciation towards this country of mine. There is one great thing about Malaysia and I don’t think anyone can deny this.

Every year, every ethnic or religious groups come together to celebrate and share their individual festivals freely. Although real unity among these diverse groups of Malaysians still have much to be desired, at least public holidays are declared, invitations to open houses are extended, gifts and greetings are  exchanged and last but not least, the spirit and festive mood can be seen all over the country, especially shopping malls.

It may all seem so commercialised and in fact one of the most profitable seasons for many businesses, but it doesn’t reduce the festive mood and spirit of the people, particularly children and those who have been away from home.

I had a chance to return home a few weeks ago and needless to say, I made my regular trips to the mall to shop for things which I cannot find in Cambodia. Since it is the Christmas season, the whole mall literally glitters with anything conceivably Christmassy, all but real snow (a pity!).

I don’t really know why but Christmas seems to be a time when shopping malls simply go mad and excessive with the decorations. Perhaps it’s because all the things which signify Christmas is so magical and foreign; the angel, Santa Claus, snow flakes (even if it’s made of cotton), reindeers, candy canes,  sleigh bells, giant socks, pine trees, stars, poinsettias, etc.

When you look at Chinese New Year, what is so magical or special about “ang pows” (red packets), mandarin oranges,  kumquat trees, pussy willows or fire crackers? Come Hari Raya, I am just shivering with excitement when I see the ketupat (squarish rice dumpling wrapped in weaved palm leaves). I have to say though that Deepavali is kind of exciting with its display of colours and array of smells. But, Christmas is just…. magical.

Thankfully, the decorators do know what they are doing  as they manage to create that Christmas atmosphere without fail. The only shortcomings are the fact that the moment you walk out from the mall, the feeling seems to disappear although you have probably bought more Christmas stuff than necessary, mainly induced by the jolly but  also treacherous carols and jingles being played at the mall.

I was nearly seduced  into buying a fake Christmas tree just so I could have the pleasure of decorating the tree despite the fact that I wasn’t going to be home during Christmas. Fortunately, the Scrooge reminded me on time that it would be merely frivolous.

Anyhow, I decided to take advantage of the situation and held a dinner party for a group of close friends. It was supposed to be a belated birthday celebration for all of us, but I threw in a surprise of my own. I put together some Christmas paraphernalia and substituted the tree with my dining table. After all, Christmas isn’t really Christmas without good friends, food, drinks and all things red, green, silver and gold.

 

Now that I am back in Cambodia, I can’t believe that the Christmas spirit has finally caught on. A lot more mellow and less extravagant, shops, restaurants and buildings are being decorated with flashing fairy lights and Christmas knick-knacks. The same Christmas carols are being played and you can’t help but to hum along. Although Christmas isn’t really a public holiday here, suffice to say that what has initially being a Western concept, is now being celebrated all over the world.

I think that should essentially be the spirit of Christmas. It is not about the snow, reindeer, tree, Santa Claus and presents, it’s about taking the time and effort to put them up so that everybody can share and join those who do celebrate them.

Here’s wishing you a joyous and peaceful Christmas. Do remember your family, friends and those who are less fortunate during this season.