A different kind of spirit and intoxication

These days, the right words used to describe me would be, zombie-fied and kelam-kabut.

In the last month, I have been completely engrossed in a project which has inevitably driven me to physical and mental exhaustion. Being sleep deprived, I have unwillingly arrived at work late in a dishevelled state. I’m almost always late for meetings held in-house and above all, I’ve committed one of the biggest and most embarrassing professional crime - giving the wrong name to a very important government minister while drafting a press statement!

I should be fired, but deep down I hope I won’t for two reasons. I’m psyched about what I’m doing and I’m driven by the pool of people working around this project.

A good marriage is really hard to come by these days but this article is not about marriage. It’s about team work and it’s as equally rare. Mom used to tell me this, “If you marry the right man, half of your life’s happiness is secured.”

In the context of a job, I would say that if you get to work with the right team, at least half of your day’s happiness is guaranteed. When combined together, I guess I’m a really happy woman despite the sleep deprivation and long hours of slogging.

Not too long ago, a fellow writer informed me that she doesn’t believe in Committee. She told me that it’s easier to get things done by herself. I do agree with her because there have been many occasions where I end up doing a job on my own simply because it takes too long to wait for others to act, especially if they are unreliable. Also, when there’s more than one person, it usually involves having more than one opinion and this means more time needed to take a collective decision.

In a marriage, it takes two to tango. In a team, it takes a whole troop to perform that awe-inspiring Shaolin acrobatic formation. All members need to lean on each other for support, be willing to take a fall and last but not least to sweat it out together so that their goals can be achieved.

However, these are not just the essential ingredients. It takes much more to become an exceptionally good team.

The spirit of team work was first introduced to me when I worked in Afghanistan. My wise Italian friend taught me the first lesson of being in a team: loyalty. Loyalty in his case does not mean to submit to one’s leader blindly and unequivocally. A team needs to be challenged. Otherwise, how would you know that it’s truly a good one when everything works like a bed of roses?

Loyalty here means to sort out disputes fairly and transparently, without backstabbing one another. If things get really difficult, you don’t just jump ship. You stay and work things out together.

I remember when I had just become the newest member of an electoral team in Bamyan, I did not appreciate our Coordinator. We had different working cultures which made it difficult for me to adapt.

Whenever I expressed my dissatisfaction towards the Coordinator, my Italian friend would remain impartial, refusing to partake in any of my personal observations. Instead, he would provide objective views and advised me to communicate my frustration to the Coordinator.

I find this to be a constructive and effective method of solving professional disagreement. If anything, it improves and builds working relationship because of better understanding through open communication.

Secondly, to be a truly good team, it goes beyond showing professional commitment. Since, we’re essentially human beings, we all come with emotional baggage. We all have needs to feel included, appreciated and respected. We don’t just value ourselves as a worker, but also a human being, deserving of respectful and dignified treatment.

Bamyan is one of the coldest districts in Afghanistan. During winter, the temperature often drops to minus 30 degrees celcius. Again, being new, I was unable to adapt to such harsh condition and subsequently fell ill with mild pneumonia. My colleagues quickly took to the task of nursing me back to health.

During this time, my health condition had been brought to the attention of those working in the headquarters. In order not to further jeopardise my health, decisions were quickly made to offer me a transfer to a warmer district in the East of Afghanistan. Resisting the tempting offer, I decided to stay on in Bamyan and it was the right decision I made.

I would eventually brave winter together with a group of colleagues whom by then had become friends. We would huddle together, all wrapped up in thick fleece jackets, scarves and mittens, sharing a simple meal while being fuelled by a solitary burner situated in the middle of a poorly equipped kitchen. Everything else was frozen in the kitchen but our spirits were kept sizzling hot by the solidarity we had for each other.

Last but not least, when the going gets really tough, good team members support each other despite the adversities and risks they have to take, even if it means compromising themselves.

After about six months in Bamyan, we had a shocking but pleasant surprise. A Japanese colleague of ours brought her baby boy from Japan to Bamyan. The whole adventure of how she managed to bring her baby there was a different story altogether. Suffice to say that her act was in breach of the United Nations’ employment contract. As an unaccompanied duty station, all staff were not allowed to bring their partners or children to Afghanistan, unless they were being employed by the UN or other organisations, in the case of their partners.

Being a single mother and combined with other undisclosed reasons, she had to bring her child there. We knew that it was not the best decision made, bringing a child to a war-zone country. However, we understood that whatever reason that had prompted her to do so must had been difficult and perhaps necessary.

In the end, what we did was to support her. We welcomed her baby into our humble home and treated him as if he was a part of the family. We were fully aware that if the baby was discovered by the UN authorities, we would all risk disciplinary action and our Japanese colleague, her job.

It hit upon us that it was difficult trying to conceal a baby in a small district like Bamyan. Eventually, our colleague had to pack her bag and leave the country but the memory of that moment we shared together will continue to stay with all of us for the rest of our lives.

Perhaps I would never get to experience such surreal circumstances again but I am fortunate enough to relive the joy of working in a team where all of us grow together and feed on each other’s enthusiasm, strength and encouragement to cross that finishing line.

The writer would like to dedicate this article to those working on the MyConstitution Campaign, as well as those who have been supportive and understanding of her during her moments of zombification and kelam-kabutness.

This article was first posted on The Malaysian Insider on 15 November 2009 under the same title.

Reading Rehman Rashid

I remember meeting Rehman Rashid at the Cooler Lumpur Literary Festival in 2013 despite knowing for certain that Rashid on the other hand, would have no recollection of me.

I had no idea how he looked like prior to that, but it might as well be as such or I would have avoided him. You see, I am cursed with the inability to behave like a normal human being when coming into contact with figures I am at awe with. To impose such affliction on someone like Rashid would have been mortifying to say the least.

I remember standing alone outside the event venue waiting anxiously for the Poskod Journalism Campus keynote address to start. Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I pretended to look busy. On hindsight now, I have no idea how I thought I could possibly achieve that effect since I wasn’t doing anything, not even with a book to keep me company. So I was naturally grateful when a tall, slim man of about 40 or 50 (I can’t be sure because his face lacked the intensity of wrinkles one would come to expect with hair as white as his) approached me.

He held out his hand and introduced himself politely. I reciprocated by shaking his hand, still completely oblivious of who he was. For the life of me, I can’t seem to remember whether he had introduced himself with his full name or just Rehman, which could easily be mistaken as Rahman.

Although Rashid towered over me, he spoke as if we were peers of equal size and height, little did I know that baritone voice of his would fascinate me with his keynote address later that morning.

I can’t recall our conversation. It must had been perfunctory, but I remember being distracted by his sense of style. He was wearing dark denim pants (I think they might had been slightly frayed at the ankles) paired with a button-up shirt fitted loosely over his slender frame and polished black brogues. Nothing out of the ordinary except for the patterned bohemian sling bag hanging on his shoulder. It was strange that a man with such polished speech and manner should be seen voluntarily in public with a bag that seems more appropriate for a dreadlocked Rastafarian.

No one knows this but what Rashid said in his keynote address that morning changed the way I write. He was as good an orator as he is a writer. He was fascinating and witty. His messages, powerful and inspiring.

Rashid lamented how journalists are becoming egotistical and self-centred, that there are too many opinion pieces (and bloggers) but very little real journalism displayed in the media these days. His traditional view of journalism has made him a target of ridicule and criticism in the past, especially by bloggers; understandingly so for his patent public display of disaffection towards them. As harsh as he sounded in his opinion, I personally don’t think Rashid was being critical of the democratisation (or digitalisation) of the written expression and ideas, but more of the content. I think this is what many of his critics fail to understand.

Rashid asserted that the role of a journalist is to bring newsworthy stories of the everyday men and women on the street to the readers at home. He said nobody should care what a journalist thinks because a journalist’s job is not to think but to report.

I’ll be honest that I am constantly tempted to indulge my ego by writing an opinion piece, thinking that I have the carte blanche to comment on anything and everything, and people would give a damn about it. I still do it because it is easier surfing the net as research than engaging in meaningful conversations with people on issues I want to write about. The thing is, when I do the former, I often find my pieces to be utter rubbish.

Carl Bernstein, famed for his Watergate scandal reports said that good journalism is “trying to obtain the best attainable version of the truth” and the best way of doing so is by “being a good listener. Listening to source after source after source.” I believe Rashid was trying to tell us the same thing that day in his keynote address. He taught me that a good writer does not write to serve one’s ego but to be the voices of other people.

It took me four days to finish A Malaysian Journey. It would have taken me a much shorter time but for the frequent interruptions that came from a full-time job. Everytime I had to put the book down, I found myself willing for the day to speed up so that I could go back to it again.

For someone who had been pretty much ignorant of Malaysian politics until the age of 25, the book offers a lucid and easy-to-read narratives of some of the most important events that have helped shape much of Malaysia’s political landscape and its people today. I understand Malaysia much more in just one sitting of the book than six years of Malaysian history classes in school.

Rashid was very clever to write subject matters that could’ve easily run into the risk of being terribly dry, heavy and boring, in a prose which was both suitably beautiful and engaging to the readers. He was as delightful to read as Preeta Samarasan and Tan Twan Eng.

A Malaysian Journey proves that Rashid is a writer of conscience. He did not make himself out as some sort of a hero. There is a raw honesty in his account of his career as a journalist, being a Malay who benefits from the National Economic Programme, and the racial politics that would subsequently inflict such a gruesome wound on the nation that will take a long time before it heals.

Rashid approached the 16 chapters in his book by interlacing them in two separate styles – one chapter would unfold his voyage across Malaysia, often making sure the characters he met remained the hero or heroine, and the next of a significant national event that had taken place in the country chronologically.

What sets A Malaysian Journey apart from other books infused with political flavor is Rashid’s style of writing. It does not possess that unguarded bitterness found in most of Kee Thuan Chye’s writing, neither is it as intellectually pompous as Farish Noor’s. Kee tends to spit while Farish Noor shows off what he knows. Rashid? Well, he tells stories.

In my book, A Malaysian Journey has made Rehman Rashid one of the most memorable Malaysian writers of our time. I thank him for writing this book for he has made it possible for me to embark in an important journey in this place I call home.

This article was first published by The Malaysian Insider here.

Technorati Tags: Rehmad Rashid,Carl Bernstein,Watergate,A Malaysian Journey,Preeta Samarasan,Tan Twan Eng,Cooler Lumpur Literary Festival,Farish Noor,Kee Thuan Chye,National Economic Programme

Stop feeling happier

If one of your New Year’s resolutions is to feel happier about the world, I have got news for you, buddy. It is not happening.

Misery is here to stay and unfortunately, you are part of it.

The truth is, I have been unhappy for a while. There you go, I finally said it.

If you think I’m another self-indulgent writer who is taking advantage of the media to whine about how unhappy I am, you’re absolutely right. But I will tell you now that I take no pleasure in doing so because I would rather be the bearer of good news on this New Year if I could.

Well, it began to dawn on me how unhappy I have been when the media recently reported that a French company has successfully produced the world’s first self-regulating artificial heart transplant. Instead of being thrilled with the technological marvel, I scorned at it.

I scorned at it because seriously, do we really need human beings to live longer?

Here are some words to describe human beings – capitalist, authoritarian, hypocrite, sadist, fanatic, xenophobe and racist.  I mean, look around you. Misery is everywhere and we, the human beings, are responsible for it.

For those who truly know me, I usually have a sarcastic or cynical comeback for most things. People who constantly post positive things on their Facebook or say only positive things about the world make me feel uncomfortable. Do not get me wrong, it is not that I do not want to share their positivity, I just do not buy it. I wish they would just cut the crap and stop pretending that everything is okay.

I had a conversation with a colleague about what it means to save the planet. This is what he said, “The term saving the planet is so deceitful because the planet does not really need saving. It has the ability to heal itself. If we are really concern about saving the planet, then we must be rid it of ourselves because our mere existence is harming the planet. So people should stop using the term ‘save the planet’ because what they really mean is to save human beings, not the planet.”

I appreciated him for cutting the crap.

I have been unhappy for a while because I know the world is not getting better and I do not have to look far to see this. Just look at what we’re doing to each other in Malaysia and how our government is intent on making us unhappy.

You see, the general rule is that many of us have to slog away at least five days a week for many years before we can live the lifestyle we want, unless we are born on a silver platter, win the lottery or steal.

On top of paying our home loan, car loan, electricity bill, water bill, sewerage bill, service and maintenance fee, tuition fee, legal fee, sinking fund, pension fund, insurance, road toll, road tax, assessment tax, service tax, and income tax, a part of our hard-earned income will eventually be stolen to benefit a few people while we pinch here and there just to save up for the things that will make us happy. So let me tell you now that as a taxpayer, I am extremely unhappy but what can I do?

If I refuse to pay my taxes in protest, I will be punished by the very same government whom I’m protesting against.

When things look bleak and if I want to turn to God for wisdom, I am told by people who simply have no business in my personal life that I cannot address God the way I want to.

If I want to express my unhappiness out loud, I am reminded to leave the country.

If I am serious enough and decide to lobby for mass support, I will be accused of overthrowing the government.

If I decide to seek legislative change through the ballot, I may never see change because the politicians who share my sentiment will not have fair access to the media and resources to reach out to the majority of the people.

I had dinner with an NGO partner this week and we talked about how to run successful awareness campaigns. I could tell he was not impressed with street protests and thought the original Occupy movement failed to maintain the momentum it garnered from the beginning. He was convinced that public satire will pressure the authority into respecting human rights and democracy.

The sad truth is, shaming does not work in this country. Believe me, many people have tried.  Satire has no place in this country. It is like those offending drivers who stick their middle fingers at you just because you honk at them for cutting into your lane without signaling. That is who we are. We reward the bad guys and punish the good ones. 

I have been unhappy because this government has never lifted a finger to help NGOs that promote human rights, democracy and good governance. For years, these NGOs are made the enemy of the state while groups propagating racial hatred are allowed to flourish.

The Auditor General’s report will tell us that the wastage generated by our civil servants year after year would have secured the funding of many NGOs for many years. As I often say, their spare change would have made these NGOs millionaires. Instead, many are forced to depend on irregular sources of funding through the goodwill of people other than this government.

So my fellow Malaysians, we cannot afford to be happy now. If anything, we need to be extra unhappy and continue to express that unhappiness because I know what the top people are doing. Do not think I have been fooled for a second. Creating religious and racial polarity among us is a classic example of trying to distract us from focusing on how they have led this country and its people into ruin.

My fellow Malaysians, please do not be fooled by the people who tell you that you should be happy, that things are not that bad. To these people, I will tell them to wake up and smell the rotting flesh before they are turned into carcasses.

Here is an Unhappy New Year message to all – stop trying to feel happier about the world. Instead, make it happier.

This article was first published in The Malaysian Insider on 9 January 2014.

“How to stop corruption like that?”

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The sickness of our private healthcare services

“If I keep this oath faithfully, may I enjoy my life and practise my art, respected by all humanity and in all times; but if I swerve from it or violate it, may the reverse be my life.”
– The Hippocratic Oath

Mary was entering her mid-thirties when it finally dawned on her that she is reproductively challenged. The thought of her own infertility did play in her mind when she was much younger but her suspicion was only confirmed recently when she was diagnosed for polycystic ovarian syndrome (POS). The strange thing was, the diagnosis did not come from her fertility doctor, who had then been too eager to start her and her husband on the notoriously expensive and invasive in vitro treatment, without first examining their health.

The diagnosis for POS had come up through her own initiative. Once she and her husband decided that they would try to conceive through artificial insemination, Mary thought it would be prudent to go through a full medical check-up, “just to make sure my body is ready for the baby, you know. We’ve read that in vitro is very stressful and we want to make sure that we’ve tried everything possible to make sure that the conditions are conducive,” she said. 

When her blood work came back, her thyroid function tests were elevated. Later, it was her endocrinologist who told her that in addition to hypothyroidism, she might be suffering from POS too. He told her that the sudden and continuous weight gain, increased cholesterol level, development of fatty liver, irregular menstruation, and acne are some of the symptoms of POS.

Mary had initially thought that these symptoms were attributed to her bad eating habits and sedentary lifestyle but it now explains why these unflattering conditions remain unchanged even after her vigorous attempts to eat and exercise better.

“The funny thing is, no one told me about it. The GP (General Practitioner) at the hospital where I did the full medical check-up did not alert me to anything after he examined my test results. All he did was to make me feel bad about my weight and asked me to take another test in three months’ time to see whether there are any changes to my thyroid functions. All this while, I had been wondering why I’ve been battling bad skin and weight gain. If only I had known earlier, I would have been less depressed and feeling hopeless all the time,” Mary said.

“You have most of the POS symptoms. Go home and do a search online. Read up and learn as much as possible about POS and then go see a gynaecologist to seek treatment. You need to solve all this hormonal issue first before you even try to get pregnant. There are other options before you start considering in vitro. Let’s get you fixed up first, ok?”

That was the most honest and reassuring conversation Mary have had with a doctor so far.

After reading up on hypothyroidism and POS on the Internet, Mary discovered that the chances of having a problematic pregnancy would have been high if she had become pregnant either through natural or artificial means. She confessed that much to her disappointment and great horror, she felt that the renowned fertility specialist she saw at a highly recommended infertility clinic in Kuala Lumpur should have informed her of this vital piece of information.

Mary and her husband initially reasoned that the specialist would have alerted them to her condition if only he had bothered to look at their medical records, which they had brought along with them during their first consultation, having thought pre-emptively that the doctor would have asked for it.

“It was going to cost us about seventeen thousand ringgit for the whole procedure and that doesn’t even cover the cost of a second treatment if the first one doesn’t work. With hypothyroidism and POS, the chances of having a miscarriage would have been great.

"Can you imagine how devastating it would have been if we hadn’t known?” Mary asked and added dejectedly, “The thing is, the doctor didn’t even bother looking at our medical records, you know. They just wanted to make money out of us.”

Mary said that on hindsight now, she is not even sure whether the doctor would have warned them of the potential complications if he had known of her conditions. Mary insisted that her endocrinologist is the minority.

“There are definitely good doctors out there, but they are extremely rare,” she said.  She revealed that she no longer trusts the medical service and would turn to her trusted online sites for all her medical diagnosis and query.

“You wonder why we should pay these useless doctors so much when we can find reliable answers online!” She laughed scornfully.

Mary is not alone when it comes to being at the receiving end of bad medical services and not trusting our medical practitioners. It would appear that more and more private hospitals are abandoning the Hippocratic Oath for personal gain.

A medical practitioner revealed that the price of medicine at a private hospital costs a lot more than an external pharmacy. He often advises his patients to buy their medicine from external pharmacies because it makes no sense for them to pay “cut-throat” prices for the same medicine. However, when Kelly tried to do precisely that, the doctor treating her apparently did not take it too well.

“Instead of giving me a prescription for six months as he had recommended, the bastard only prescribed me a month’s worth of medication. In other words, he was ‘forcing’ me to go back to him for a follow-up prescription and that would have meant paying him ninety ringgit for just a bloody piece of paper. Can you imagine that?!”

The Department of Pharmaceutical Services at the Ministry of Health informed that there is currently no law to control the prices of medication at private hospitals. However, it is encouraging when the Head of the Medicine Pricing Unit wrote, “As a patient, you have the right to obtain a prescription from your doctor to buy your medicine from any pharmacy even though it displeases the doctor. I believe that empowered patients can change the current bad habits practised by medical professions so that we can all guarantee affordable medication for the people.”

Vikram, another unhappy patient, shared the experience he had with his doctor when he was undergoing treatment for Hepatitis C. He said that he was mortified when the nurse asked about his treatment in front of other patients while he was waiting for his doctor in a clinic. He understood that the nurse probably asked out of customary politeness but he did not appreciate the fact that in the course of her doing so, other people had learned about his medical condition.

He said that patient information management is lacking in many healthcare facilities and was shocked that this clinic is part of a hospital that has received an accreditation from the Malaysian Society for Quality in Health (MSQH), the national accrediting body for healthcare facilities and services. 

“On top of that, my doctor failed to inform me of all the side effects of the antiviral medication I was taking. There was no counselling or support for me and my spouse. The repercussions of the medication was so great that I felt as if the treatment had ruined an important part of our lives. 

"For each visit, I paid ninety ringgit for a five-minute consultation where the doctor did practically nothing. Thankfully I had a good insurance coverage because the medication cost an arm and a leg. To be honest, I wish I had not undergone this treatment if only I had known of the repercussions. I wasn’t informed properly,” Vikram said regretfully.

As of June this year, 75 percent of public hospitals have received the MSQH accreditation while only 25 percent of private hospitals have. At the international level, only eight hospitals have received the Joint Commission International (JCI)’s accreditation.

The JCI is created by the Joint Commission on Accreditation of Healthcare Organisations, a US government agency, aimed to improve the safety and quality of care in the international community through the provision of education and advisory services, and international accreditation and certification. 

The assessment criteria used by the MSQH is quite similar to the one used by the JCI, except the latter provides additional components such as patient and family education, staff qualifications and education, medication management and use, and the assessment and care of patients; elements which seem to be sorely lacking in our own private healthcare services.

Previously, the government has made several attempts to make it mandatory for all public and private hospitals to obtain MSQH accreditation but these attempts have been put on hold thus far. Although having some sort of national or international accreditation by a recognised and credible agency does boost public confidence, alongside minimising and mitigating clinical and safety related risks, these accreditations do not take into account public rating. The application submission for accreditation is done by the hospital in question and the assessment is then carried out by a panel of surveyors appointed by the accreditation agency. 

There is no consideration for public opinion on how the hospital has fared.

“As a patient, I would like us to have some sort of a scorecard for all the hospital in Malaysia. Something simple for a start and it can be done by civil society, someone independent and done from the patient’s perspectives. 

"What we need is someone who will disguise as a patient to test out the hospitals. So you have this person who goes to several hospitals and says he’s got liver problem, for instance, and then he assesses how the hospitals handle him based on selected key criteria. The problem has to be the same though, so you can compare apple for apple,” Vikram suggested thoughtfully.

Kelly said the hospital’s ability to deal with complaints is something left to be desired.

“No point. I’ve written to a hospital before to express my dissatisfaction over their service. I haven’t received any response from them. This was last year. It’s like as if the hospital doesn’t really care if you’re unhappy with them. They have patients lined up anyway. So why should they care?”

Sumitra, who is married to a doctor, revealed that medical practitioners often tend to close an eye when their colleagues commit a medical error. This culture is deeply rooted on the notion of solidarity akin to the “I have your back now so that when I need you, you’ll have mine” philosophy.  

This makes it virtually impossible to have a doctor testifies against the other, even when a grave error occurs at the expense of a patient’s life.

Perhaps what Malaysia needs is a patients association such as the one in the United Kingdom. The UK’s Patients Association provides a platform for the people to rate their National Health Service (NHS). The association also runs educational campaigns such as the Speaking Up Complaints Project which encourages patients to speak up against poor medical services and the NHS to improve the way it deals with patients’ complaints. The NHS is ranked as one of the top 20 best healthcare services in the world by the World Health Organisation.

Not all is lost. Malaysia seems to be doing remarkably well in the area of medical tourism. A private hospital in Kuala Lumpur is recently recognised by the Medical Travel Quality Alliance as one of the world’s top ten best hospitals for medical tourists. By taking advantage of the weaker Malaysian currency, foreigners from the Middle East, Europe and Japan are flocking to Malaysia to enjoy better medical treatment.

It would have cost the local patients an arm and a leg to receive treatment in these hospitals but Mary said, “If the service is compatible with the amount I pay for, why not? The problem with the private hospitals here is that I’m not even getting the value for my money.”

While our private hospitals continue to nurse tourists with top notch care, in order to stay competitive alongside South Korea, Thailand and Turkey, have they forgotten our own illnesses along the way?

This article was first published at The Malaysian Insider on 9 October 2013.

 

Technorati Tags: Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome,POS,hypothyroidism,thyroid function test,in vitro,infertility,Malaysian Society for Quality in Health,MSQH,Department of Pharmaceutical Services,Ministry of Health,Joint Commission International. medical tourism,Hippocratic Oath,Medicine Pricing Unit,Hepatitis C,Patients Association,National Health Service

In search of the right one

Overheard at a wedding reception at the Ritz-Carlton, Kuala Lumpur.

Mrs. Ravi: Singham! Are you still seeing that Monica? I saw you flirting-flirting with Mary at the bar. Talking and laughing only. What’s going on?

Singham: We’re just talkinglah, Ma. Are you flirting with Aunty Tina? Both of you seem to be talking and laughing all the time. What’s going on, huh? Huh?

Mrs. Ravi: You don’t be cheeky and don’t think I haven’t noticed you poking and sending those x-o-x-o nonsense to Angela, Pamela, Sandra and Rita on Facebook. So naughty only.

Singham: Huh? What the…. I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ma. Honestly!

Mrs. Ravi: You added me to your Facebook three years ago. Remember?

Singham: But, but… I thought I’ve blocked you?!

Mrs. Ravi: Who do you really think Erica is?

A long and uncomfortable silence ensues as Singham vaguely recalls receiving a friend request from someone called Erica a couple of months ago.

Mrs. Ravi: Boy, now tell me honestly, when will I get to hold my first grandchild?!

Singham gulps and wipes the sweat already forming on his forehead. Before he figures out a way to appease his mother, he makes a mental note not to poke any random girls on his Facebook account ever again.

Singham: Aiyah, Maaaa. Monica is nice but she hates children. She seems to think that they’re rental toys to be dressed up and then sent back with a refundable deposit. Pamela’s fun but she’s so self-centred, as if the whole world revolves around her. Angela, umm….She thinks she’s so damn pretty and desirable, she can get away with anything.

Mrs. Ravi: What about Rita and Jessica? I saw photos of you on vacation with them. Separately-separately some more.

Singham: Aiyah, Ma. Relaxlah. Marriage is a big thing. I want to find the right girl. Can’t just simply pick one, right?!

Mrs. Ravi: Tell me, what type of girl are you looking for? Don’t be so picky only.

Singham: I don’t know, Ma.

(Sighs)

OK, OK, if you must know, I guess she must be pretty. Fun, but got her head screwed on right. A good cook. Independent. Not the needy and manipulative kind. Ah yes, funny of course. And doesn’t take herself too seriously. Hmmm…what else? Someone who likes her food? But not fatlah. Kind, caring and intelligent. Neat but not obsessively anal? Modest but yet confident. Respects the environment and loves animals. Honest.

Mrs. Ravi: You know Erica is taken, right? (Winks)

The thought of him poking “Erica” just a couple of weeks ago sends Singham into a state of nausea.

Yes, if only a bachelor’s life is as easy as Mambo Number Five.

Picking the right gal is probably harder than picking the right shade of tie to go with your pink Ted Baker shirt and brown Steve Madden brogues. Yet, we tend to take our time trying out as many styles, colours, designs and silhouettes before we eventually settle for the one we will be proud to display and put a signature on (we’re not even talking about fashion anymore).

We’ve been investing much of our time flipping through the pages of magazines, pondering over the choice of watches, shoes, restaurants, cars, bags, gadgets, vacations and gifts. We weigh the options, look at their merits, compare their values and finally make the decision we believe will serve our interest best.

Once a year, some of us read the profile of unknown men (and women) who get handpicked by different magazines to become Men (or Women) of the Year (secretly, some of us think that we’re better than the picks, especially those LoyarBurok flers) and we instinctively put on our judgment cap as opposed to a fedora. We agree that to be picked as Men (or Women) of the Year, you’ve gotta have that something, the je ne sais quoi – not just the looks and goods but also some sort of criteria that gives each individual that extra edge; creativity, entrepreneurship, sportsmanship, leadership and, of course good looks never seem to hurt (damn those bitches (or bastards!)).

Two years ago, UndiMsia! carried out a project called the Laporan Rakyat. No, it’s not an opinion poll on whether Julie Woon is hotter than Yvonne Sim. It’s a scorecard that invites respondents to rate their State Assemblyperson and Member of Parliament. (OK, we’ve seen that same disappointed look (and yawn) many times. Sorry, we’re immune to it.)

We ask the respondents a series of questions ranging from:

- Are you a registered voter?

- Who are your Ahli Dewan Undangan Negeri (ADUN) and Member of Parliament (MP)?

- Describe your ADUN and MP in 50 words.

- What is the most important thing your ADUN and MP have done which has positively affected you and your community?

- Is it easy to meet your ADUN and MP?

- Do they know about the issues in your community? Do they solve the issues?

- Do they discuss these issues with your community and make a decision together for your community?

- Have they fulfilled their promises and pledges during the previous elections?

- Are you happy with their performances?

We also ask the respondents whether they’ve heard their ADUN and MP speak about crime, corruption, education, employment, environment, freedom of expression, democracy, gender equality, healthcare, public infrastructure, racial unity and prices of food, goods and housing.

To be honest, our findings were most troubling but not entirely surprising. It did seem that most of the candidates do have that je ne sais quoi, except in the literal sense of the word. While many of the respondents are most likely able to articulate the qualities they look for in a life partner (like our dear Singham), majority do not seem to be able to identify who their ADUN and MP are, much less what they stand for and how they have been performing. Hence, a literally I-don’t-know-what kind of response.

Now, what’s troubling is that the majority of Malaysians seem to be contented with leaving important decisions such as how the country is being run, how laws are being made and how the country’s money is being spent, in the hands of total strangers. Sure, you’re not going to bed and live with your ADUN and MP for the rest of your life (unless you’re the Mohamed Salleh Ismail type and look where he had ended up), but they are the ones making laws that will affect every aspect of your life and your family’s - the affordability of your first family home together, the quality of your child’s education and her freedom to profess the religion of her choice, amongst many other things.

What’s not surprising is that many Malaysians are likely more interested in Facebook status updates, uploading photographs of what they ate the night before and debating which smart phones they would die for, than what law has just been passed in Parliament to restrict Malaysians’ right to Internet freedom, for example. An irony, don’t you think?

Frankly speaking, finding the right partner is not even close to half of the relationship’s struggle (sorry to put a damper on you). Once Singham has found her and he’s lucky enough to survive that seven-year bitch, errr... itch, both of them will inevitably be confronted with making decisions about housing and eventually the cost of living, education and healthcare. How is it possible that we can be picky about the criteria we look for in so many things in our lives – fashion, gadgets, cars, properties, partner but not the very person who will represent our well-being and interest as citizens of this country?

The 13^th General Election is finally over. The people have chosen. What’s left now is for all the elected representatives to get to work and to prove how worthy they are of the people’s votes. It’s also up to us to hold them accountable to their duties. After all, if all things fail and result in irreconcilable differences, a separation or divorce can be an option like any other relationships.

All we’re saying is, when it comes to choosing your elected representatives, always get to know them first so you can weigh your options, look at their merits, compare their values and finally make the decision you believe will serve your interest best. You would do this for the many other things in your life so why would you expect less from our politicians?

This article is inspired by UndiMsia!’s Laporan Rakyat project. UndiMsia! is a fiercely non-partisan movement focusing on citizen empowerment. For more information, please visit www.undimsia.com.

First published on FZ.com on 5 September 2013 under the title How to Choose Your Spouse or ADUN/MP?

Technorati Tags: ADUN,Ahli Dewan Undangan Negeri,MP,Member of Parliament,UndiMsia!,LoyarBurok. Mohamed Salleh Ismail,GE13

A 1Malaysia: 2Standard story

As I go through a rare spring cleaning exercise on my personal laptop, I discovered this unfinished script which I would like to share here. As mentioned, it’s unfinished and hopefully I’ll find the courage and discipline to expand the story before the year ends.

As the file indicated, I first attempted to write this in April 2012 (more than a year ago!) and it was meant to be a screenplay. Hence, the odd-looking format and font.

Oh and if you feel like helping me finish this story, please feel free to share the direction you think this story should go to.

*****************************************************************************************************************

INT. BASEMENT PARKING IN A MEDIUM-COST HIGH-RISE CONDOMINIUM – EVENING

Ah Lian arrives home after a long and hard day at work. As she pulls into her parking bay, she hears a thunderous roar coming from her neighbour’s silver Proton Waja with dark tinted windows.

Ahmad, the neighbour, is testing his car’s engine by pressing the accelerator repeatedly. Since the car’s engine has been modified to resemble a turbo racing monster machine, the noise becomes unbearable for the human ears.

INT. AH LIAN’S APARTMENT – SHORTLY AFTER ARRIVING FROM WORK ON THE SAME EVENING

Ah Lian walks into her apartment with a look that could easily make Darth Maul purrs in coy submission. She is greeted by her housemate, Meenachi.

MEENACHI

Eh, Ah Lian. Are you ok? Why you look so garang?

AH LIAN

(sighs)

You know that fucker who has that silver Waja

parked near our parking bay?

(without waiting for Meenachi to respond)

I swear to God, I’m going to kill him one day.

I mean who the fuck does he think he is?

Making all those damn noise!

MEENACHI

Whoa! Sabarlah, Ah Lian. What can you do?

These people have no idea how ridiculous and stupid they are. Biarkanlah aje.

No point getting all upset over something you can’t change. Let it go.

Jom! Let’s go and makan?

In the next few weeks, Ah Lian is greeted by the same annoyingly loud noise coming from the silver Waja. Sometimes, she tries to convey her annoyance to Ahmad by sending him daggered looks across the parking bays. All Ahmad does is to double up the volume of his engine and smiles at her slyly, as if he needs to prove to Ah Lian how much he’s enjoying every second of her misery.

One day, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

INT. THE SAME BASEMENT PARKING – ONE MONTH LATER

Ah Lian and Meenachi are seen lurking behind Meenachi’s grey Perodua MyVi. They look around the basement several times to make sure that nobody else is around.

MEENACHI

(whispers)

Pssst! Ah Lian, I’m scared. Are you sure you want to do this?

AH LIAN

(irritated)

Aiyoh! Don’t be such a scardy cat, can ah? No time to chicken out now, ok?

I’m going in. Watch my back.

A few hours later that same day.

INT. THE SAME BASEMENT PARKING WHERE THIS STORY FIRST STARTED

AHMAD

What the fuck?!!

(He proceeds to tears off a picture of a pig with the word “BABI!!” written diagonally across the picture in capital letters from his Waja’s tinted window shield)

Ah Lian and Meenachi walk into the parking basement and are confronted by a seething Ahmad.

AHMAD

(points at Ah Lian)

You! It’s you, bukan? You did this!

AH LIAN

Hello?!!! Excuse me? What are you talking about?

Kenapa marah-marah ni?

Gambar apa tu? Eh, so cute this babi.

AHMAD

Eh, you ni bodoh ke apa? Saya Muslim, tau?

Apa yang you buat ni berdosa tau? Dahlah kafir,

makan babi,tak cuci buntut, tapi nak kurang ajar!

Tak tau ke apa ertinya respect?

Technorati Tags: 1Malaysia,National Reconciliation

National reconciliation or retaliation?

There was no cry of jubilation. Neither were there tears of joy.

If you had been in a coma during the past few weeks and were suddenly awakened to the image of the Barisan Nasional’s victory speech on television, you would have thought that someone important had died and the whole nation had gone into mourning mode. Why wouldn’t you when Datuk Seri Najib Razak and his sidekicks looked as if the apocalypse was upon them?

Before you could even make out the hazy details that had preceded such collective sombreness, you found yourself being hit by a train of confusion. “Chinese tsunami” quickly followed by “national reconciliation” — two terms coined together only mere minutes after the announcement of the election results were enough to make me want to crawl back into that coma. Ignorance is after all bliss during moments like this.

As I begin to hear comments pouring in from different public figures and the public, of what they thought of the proposed national reconciliation, I felt sheepishly stupid. Am I the only one who doesn’t understand what it means or what it’s for?

The coma must have impaired my intellectual capacity. Full stop.

A few days ago, someone asked me what I understood about Najib’s notion of national reconciliation. Instead of giving that person a straightforward answer, I went on a crooked tangent. If you were as confused as I was, you would probably understand why.

This was my answer: “You know what? It took me two years to learn how to reconcile my accounts. Why did it take me so long? Well, honestly, I had no clue how to do it! Accounting is like a useless foreign language to me. Neither do I understand it, nor do I have the desire to learn it. So it took me two years to finally nail it down. Anyway, to answer your question, I think national reconciliation is a bit like me trying to reconcile my accounts. The federal government has no clue what it’s about and most likely has no desire to learn what it really is about.”

Horrified at my analogy, the person finally said: “If what you said is true, let’s hope they’ll at least nail it down in the end.”

Of course, hope is a good thing and one can always hope.

Anyway, Najib had come out in public and said that national reconciliation is needed to heal racial and political divide. Never mind what he said because since then, I’ve had more opportunities to hear what other people thought about this notion in person and, unsurprisingly, different people seem to hold very different opinions of it. Although some agreed wholeheartedly that it’s all about reconciling racial divide, others said it’s more about the urban-rural divide. A few said that there’s really no racial divide and it was the politicians who have spun it to instil hate and fear because the real issue here is economic divide. A few vehemently claimed that it’s all about political party divide, much to the chagrin of those who quickly rebutted that political party division is a good thing and the pillar of a robust democracy. Listening to these opinions reminded me of the story of the elephant and the three blind men. (Scary or what? But anyway, Malaysia boleh!)

Without turning this article into something unnecessarily lengthy, I shall cut to the chase. Let’s just suppose that the prime minister is honest about his intention, how should he and his Cabinet go about developing the framework of this national reconciliation?

Here’s my take as a layperson. (I realise I’m running the risk of oversimplifying the issue but I think simplification is exactly what we need now.) I believe in order for a national reconciliation to be successful, it must first fulfil three criteria — it must 1) command the public’s confidence, 2) be a meaningful exercise, and 3) result in action. At the same time, it must be guided by these core principles — 1) truth, 2) repentance, and 3) justice.

In order to achieve the first criterion, the government owes it to the public to provide a clear and truthful explanation of what this national reconciliation is all about. As it is, the public’s confidence of the new government is already at an all-time low, it is now up to the latter to convince the public of the true purpose of this process. Without the public’s confidence and faith in this, it is likely going to suffer the same fate as the 1 Malaysia slogan, one that reeks of a political rather than human agenda. To curb this, the government must secure the public’s participation in developing its framework; not just their supporters but also dissenters. As such, it is imperative for the government to listen to both sides and this necessitates freeing up media space to allow opinions from both sides to be heard.

Secondly, for this exercise to be truly meaningful, the government must understand the true meaning of reconciliation. In order for reconciliation to work, all party must be willing to admit their wrongdoing, repent and agree to move forward together. The closing of one chapter so that a fresh one can begin, so to speak. As the initiator of this agenda, the government must first admit that it has played a role in allowing racism to manifest and, as such, resulted in this divide. By initiating this process, the government must be willing to admit that the 1 Malaysia campaign, the National Service Training and the National Economic Programme have in a way failed or contributed towards perpetuating racial-based politics because otherwise, why on earth do we need national reconciliation? By doing this, the government shows repentance and sincerity and this will help to restore the public’s confidence in the process.

Finally and perhaps most importantly, all this must in the end result in the government taking real action towards reconciliation. There has been far too many projects and agenda that ended up being nothing but mere politically rhetoric with no real benefit or meaning for the people. I’ve listened to various people giving recommendations of what should be done to achieve this goal — from establishing a parliamentary select committee to unifying our education curriculum. All noble solutions which will take a long time to implement and before you know it, the public loses interest and nobody remembers why the process was proposed in the first place. For a quick start just to get things rolling, in order for the government to prove its sincerity and will, why not get rid of those boxes that seek to verify our races in all government-related forms once and for all? Punish ministers who incite racial hatred and make an example out of them. Justice must be blind and not just for the powerful.

In conclusion, after all that is said and done, the secret ingredient that will eventually create a Malaysian culture that abhors racism is really quite simple. All it takes really is for the government to first set an exemplary role in eradicating racial sentiments and once that is accomplished, I am quite confident that the rest will follow. Not unlike reconciling your accounts, the two sides must be in tandem with each other. Otherwise, let’s not fool ourselves by calling it reconciliation but retaliation instead. If I were an avid conspiracy theorist, I would have concluded that “Chinese tsunami” and “national reconciliation” were part of a national retaliation strategy to divert the people’s attention from what’s really to come.

So Mr Prime Minister, which one is it going to be?

This article was first published on The Malaysian Insider on 27 May 2013.

Technorati Tags: National Reconciliation,GE13,PRU13,Chinese Tsunami,1Malaysia,National Service Training,National Economic Plan,NEP,Barisan Nasional,Najib Razak

“To sign or not to sign?”

That was a decision I was forced to make one early morning at a private hospital in Kuala Lumpur.

“I’m not signing. The hospital can go fuck itself!” My husband’s mind was made up even before I could blink my sleepy eyes twice.

For a brief second, I almost dismissed my husband’s reaction as a tad too melodramatic and was very close to signing what had already begun to threaten the tranquility of our rare morning together. But I didn’t.

I let out a big sigh and told the young woman at the front desk, “Sorry, I can’t sign this. We won’t consent to this.”

Once I had said it out loud, the look on her face told me that things were not going to be smooth for my husband and I that day. The wide eyes behind her glasses looked shocked, confused and uncomfortable. I might be biased but I thought she also reeked of judgment.

“I’m sorry but this is a hospital policy. You have to sign this if you want to get tested,” she said a bit too timidly. I don’t know how, but she seemed to sense that this would not go down well on us.

I looked at my husband, not as an attempt to persuade but for an affirmation of our decisions.

“Nope. I’m not going to sign.” He walked away to signal his unwillingness to waste any more time on this matter.

I let out another big sigh as I found myself losing patience too.

“Look, we have no problem signing a consent form for HIV testing but we do have a problem with this clause here. See? It says, if tested positive, you guys will be notifying the Government Authorities,” I explained.

“But this is the law,” she tried to convince me.

So if the law requires you to jump off the Penang Bridge, you would?

I rolled my eyes and sighed again.

“I know but we don’t agree with this law. So we’re not going to consent as a sign of our protest,” I said instead.

We were then told to wait at the lounge while she consulted her manager.

After ten minutes, an older woman came and asked to speak to me privately. She ushered me to the corner of the room and said to me in a low voice, “M’am, your medical package includes HIV screening. We’re not sure whether it is possible for us to exclude this testing.”

I stared her. It was my turn to look shocked, confused, uncomfortable and judgmental. By then my patience had hit a record low and I couldn’t help myself but to retaliate in full force.

I can’t remember what I had told her precisely but I surprised myself that day for being eloquent as I made my case. The conviction and anger inside me helped me to articulate my argument to her and in summary, I told her that nobody could force my husband and I to test for HIV/AIDS.

“Of course, of course. You’re right. Let me go and check with the company who offered you the package to confirm that it’s OK for you to go through the check-up today without the test.”

My husband looked defeated. He was convinced that we were not going to have our routine medical check-up that day. In a determined voice, I said to him, “If she comes back and tells us no, I swear I’m going to give them hell.”

After waiting for another 15 minutes, hell remained mine.

For close to ten years, my husband and I had gone through routine HIV tests annually. In fact, before we had our first sexual intercourse, we had ourselves tested. This is how strongly we feel about protecting each other from HIV/AIDS. The episode above was the first time that we had actually skipped a HIV test.

Many of you may wonder why we had made such a ruckus over this.

I had recently learned from a friend that testicular cancer is apparently rather common amongst Canadian adolescents. According to her, because most adolescents are embarrassed to talk about their private parts, many choose to remain silent when they feel an abnormal growth on their testicles. By the time they decide to seek treatment, the cancer has already advanced considerably.

I suppose the same principle applies here, except multiplied by ten because of the stigma HIV/AIDS carries. Because of our strong fear of stigmatisation, we would rather not get ourselves tested. Because of the lack of information, we are not sure what the Government Authorities would do with our medical record. In the meantime, the hospital did nothing to help us understand the procedure of HIV disclosure. If anything, the hospital did everything wrong that day to gain our trust. This problem could have been potentially solved by sound public relations and communications practices but instead, the hospital staff made us felt like we were the enemy.

When I first saw that young woman’s reaction when we declined to sign the consent form, and her subsequent looks after that, I knew that I had made the right choice not to sign the paper. She carried a look that spelled, “They have AIDS. That’s why they’re not signing the paper.” She was very awkward with us. She would tense up whenever we appeared before her. When we went to collect our test results a week later, we felt unwelcomed. The doctor who went through our report dismissed me when I told him that I thought I felt a lump on my neck. He did not even feel my neck. He behaved as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of us.

Act 342, Section 10 (2) is the clause that compels every medical practitioner to notify the government authorities if he/she is aware of the existence of any infectious disease. Under the same section, it also compels anyone, other than a medical practitioner, to do the same. This means, if I know my work colleague has HIV/AIDS, I must report this to the authorities.

In the United Kingdom, the General Medical Council states that a disclosure of HIV positive patient to anyone other than a healthcare professional is unlawful. Their Data Protection Act provides legal redress to people living with HIV/AIDS if their confidentiality rights have been breached. In Malaysia, there is no such law yet unless the personal data is used for commercial purposes.

In the United States of America, hospitals do report to the US Centres for Disease Control and Prevention, but only after they have removed all personal information from the patient’s record. This is mainly because the federal and state funding for HIV/AIDS is often targeted at areas where the epidemic is strongest.

An American survey revealed that one-third of 20,000 respondents knew at least one person who is afraid to take HIV test for fear of prosecution if they are tested positive. More than 60% of Americans do not know whether their state has a HIV specific disclosure law. Accordingly, many people at risk may prefer not to get tested for HIV rather than risk being accused of or criminally charged for non-disclosure if they are tested positive. In a similar survey, when asked what motivated people to disclose their condition, majority of them cited moral or ethical reasons; honesty, love, desire to protect their loved ones. Less than 1% said that the law is the primary motivation.

All these studies point to the understanding that having a disclosure law such as the Act 342, Section 10, does not help to reduce the risk of HIV/AIDS. On the contrary, it has significant repercussions because it stops people like my husband and I from getting tested and seeking appropriate treatment once diagnosed.

Driven by curiosity, I called two organisations* relevant to this subject matter for more information. I could not get through one but the other told me that I could get an anonymous HIV test for free.

“Total anonymity? How come the law doesn’t apply to you guys?”

“That’s because we’re an NGO. There are a couple of NGOs around that do anonymous testing. Do drop by and get yourself tested. It’s important.”

Free anonymous testing with an NGO versus a private hospital that doesn’t seem to give a toss, it’s a no brainer really who will have a more successful campaign against the spread of HIV/AIDS.

* The identities of the organisations have been deliberately kept confidential to avoid getting them into trouble with the authorities.

This article was first published on The Malaysian Insider on 5 March 2013.

It generated quite a bit of discussion on a friend’s Facebook. According to this friend, the local NGOs are not exempted from reporting to the Government Authorities if you’re tested positive for HIV. He also left a comment on my Facebook and here’s what he said:

“Also, at the NGO, you are testing live with a person, who then gives you the result. You are no longer anonymous to him. Some people don't go to such NGOs because they may know people from the community who are volunteers at the NGO. So actually, this creates a different problem. People who would go for such testing in spite of the social barriers (being recognised, reporting, etc) are already monitoring their sexual health -- even if some do test positive eventually. The problem is getting people for whom the lack of anonymity prove a deterrent. Some people also have to overcome the guilt of being judged for being irresponsible at such an NGO as these NGOs have been aggressive in promoting Safe Sex messages with moralistic overtones (you are irresponsible if you don't use condom, you are a slut if you have multiple sexual partners, etc). It is a lot to overcome for most people. In Taiwan, their anonymous testing works like this: you get your blood taken for testing and you are given a code and a phone number to call; you call the number and tell them your code and you get your result without needing to reveal your name at all.”

Another person left a comment on this article:

“As a matter of fact[ly], both Malaysian and Singaporean law requires medical practitioners to report patients tested positive for HIV. Both deport and ban entry to foreigners if tested positive while in the country.”

Technorati Tags: HIV/AIDS disclosure law,anonymous HIV testing,stigmatisation facing people living with HIV/AIDS,Act 342 Section 10,Act 342 Section 10(2),US Centres for Disease Control,General Medical Council,United Kingdom

Accidental lessons

This article was first posted on The Malaysian Insider on 21 November 2012 and LoyarBurok on 11 December 2012.

It was 1991. My classmates and I were punished for being noisy in class. We were told to stand up and remain silent for the rest of the lesson. The silence was deafening until Cikgu stormed towards the back of the classroom and barked, “Why are you smiling?! Is this supposed to be funny?”

Alarmed, we all turned around to find out who had the misfortune of inciting Cikgu’s sudden outburst. It was Lee, the boy who hardly spoke during lessons. If anything could be said about Lee, he stayed away from trouble and wore a pleasant demeanour on his face.

Cikgu repeated her question. This time with greater force. Puzzled, Lee had no choice but to answer, “Err… no. But, but, but is it a crime to smile?”

I was stunned because I didn’t know Lee had it in him to speak up against a figure of authority.

“Ohhhhh… you think you’re so smart, is it? Stand on your chair now!” Cikgu decided to play the power card. They always did when they had no answers to smart questions.

Lee did as he was told and the smile disappeared from his face.

Many of us still remember this incident and Lee will always be remembered as the guy who got punished simply because he smiled.

Recently, when my husband got into a minor fender-bender with a taxi driver, I was reminded of this story. As the article unfolds, I hope it will serve as a cautionary tale for all.

It’ll serve you well to know that if your car has been hit by a vehicle used for carriage of passengers for hire or reward (or what is commonly known as a taxi, rental car, public bus, school bus and factory bus) to be referred to as “public vehicle” hereafter, you are not entitled to make a No-Fault Own Damage (ODN) or Knock-For-Knock (K-F-K) claims, even if you have a police investigation report proving that the other party is at fault.

The only claims you can make are of your own insurance, which will then affect your No Claim Bonus (NCB) or to claim directly from the perpetrator’s insurance, which can be an insurmountable task if the latter is not co-operative.

Now, this is alarming news to me because I did not know, as I suspect many of you don’t either, about this. It got my husband and I very concerned. How and where can we find out more information? Could this be an explanation why taxi and bus drivers drive as recklessly as they do here?

Dissatisfied with my motor insurance company’s response, I’ve since then made multiple enquiries to different insurance companies, the Road Transport Department, the General Insurance Association of Malaysia (PIAM), Bank Negara and even three motor workshops.

The calls and Internet searches I made generated a lot of frustration and failed to answer satisfactorily why public vehicles are exempted from ODN and K-F-K claims. Only one person came up with a direct response (although not necessarily plausible or reliable) in an online public forum.

According to this person, the measure was taken to discourage people from driving private cars. See it as some form of vice tax, if you like. I’m not entirely sure whether this is indeed the rationale behind this ridiculous policy but at least someone offered an opinion other than just re-iterating what has suddenly become an obvious policy.

The Road Transport Department said that they are not responsible for insurance regulation and referred me to the Ministry of Finance. I did not pursue with the latter.

I had to make four telephone calls to obtain a written policy stating the exemption from AXA Affin Malaysia. The first call was answered by someone whose standard response seemed to be “cannot.” Period.

My husband and I have taken to calling these people Ms/Mr Cannot and they seem to dominate the service industry in Malaysia. Before you can even explain what you’re asking for, they’ll tell you with great certainty and conviction that you cannot.

Kurnia Insurans Malaysia and Etiqa Insurance have the same policy on their websites. AIA Malaysia’s telephone operator said that this should not be true but was unable to confirm. She also said that all motor insurance policy should apply across the board because they are being regulated by Bank Negara. When I called Bank Negara, there was no one who could answer my query. They promised to call me back but they haven’t.

Zurich Insurance Malaysia Berhad informed me that they, too, practise the same policy. According to their officer, the policy is a result of an agreement made by all the insurance companies. Although I was disappointed by the answer, I was pleased that they were helpful enough to explain what I could do instead.

“You can claim third party insurance directly from the taxi. If you don’t want to go through the hassle of doing this, some workshops will help you. You just need to obtain the police investigation reports,” she said.

“How do you make a claim directly from the taxi? I don’t have his insurance details?”

The taxi driver had conveniently claimed ignorance when I asked for his insurance details. He said he had to call his company to find out and until today, I haven’t managed to get an answer from him. I was told by several people that this is to be expected.

“I hope you have his registration number. As long as you have it, you can find out from JPJ.”

“Does the workshop charge a fee for this service and if yes, how much?” I asked.

“Yes, I think they charge a fee but I really don’t know how much. What I can do is to give you a contact. You can call them and enquire.”

I called the number and to my great surprise, the lady who answered the phone said they don’t charge anything if I can furnish them with all the relevant documents. If I am unable to do so, they will charge a runner fee of RM150.

I’ve also talked to another workshop recommended by someone else and according to the workshop, as long as I send my car to my insurance panel workshop, I can make a KFK claim.

My insurance panel workshop offered us two solutions: 1) submit a ODN claim but our NCB will be forfeited and our insurance will cover the cost of repair, or 2) submit a third party claim but we’ll have to pay for the NCB adjuster fee and cost of repair first. We may be able to get it reimbursed by the taxi’s insurance later but it is entirely up to the latter’s discretion.

My husband and I haven’t quite decided yet what to do with our car. Although no injuries were inflicted (albeit a huge bruise to our morale), the simple principle of justice remains that we shouldn’t be paying for other people’s mistake. It isn’t just about the cost of repair but the time spent on dealing with it.

In my attempt to find answers, I’ve remained utterly confused and defeated. My French husband has cheekily asked me, “Why didn’t I marry a Swede? Why do you have to be Malaysian? It’s the first time I’ve heard of such stupid policies.”

Just like my friend, Lee, who shouldn’t have smiled, we shouldn’t have rejoiced so quickly with the knowledge that it was someone else’s fault when the accident happened. Just like Lee who asked the question “Is it a crime to smile?” and was then punished without any clear reason whatsoever, we are being punished in a similar fashion.

How safe can you be on the road if the rules do not punish those who inflict damage and injury to others? I can be a responsible and safe driver but it doesn’t protect me against those who aren’t. Something’s clearly wrong and how do we get to the bottom of this?

If you ever encounter an accident with a public vehicle (which I sincerely hope you won’t), it’ll be wise to obtain the vehicle’s insurance information immediately.

Meanwhile, do stay safe on the road.

After this article was posted, I received a private response from an insurance agent, Sandra Shao, who has kindly explained the following.

There are two options in cases like this:

1) File a 3rd party claim. Submit all relevant documents (police investigation report) to the 3rd party insurance. If you do not have the details of the 3^rd party’s insurer, you’ll need to run a JPJ search. (If your workshop has experience in dealing with cases like this, they will be able to assist you to run the search). Meantime, you’ll have to pay for all the repair work first.

In the meantime, do hire a Loss Adjustor who will prepare a report on the extent of the damage and he/she will put in a Loss of Use timeframe. Loss of Use is the estimated repair time but does not include any waiting time; i.e. delay in obtaining spare parts, etc. The report will take about seven days depending on various factors.

You can hire a Loss Adjustor directly or through your workshop’s contacts. The fee is based on a schedule. Some may tend to inflate the cost of repair but the Insurer will send a representative to verify the damages claimed.

With this option, your NCB is maintained.

2)  File a Own Damage claim. Bring your car to your panel workshop and your insurance will pay for the damage. However, your NCB will start from 0% again at the time of renewal of your insurance.

Sandra recommends the first option although the procedure is tedious but it’s worth doing as you get to keep your NCB, especially if it’s already at 55%.

According to Sandra, many people choose the easiest way out, with as little inconvenience as possible. Upon discovery that they’ve lost their NCB and asked to pay a higher premium, they often argue that these options were not explained to them. The bottom line is, it is never an easy way to deal with accidents of this nature, but if you handle it properly from the start, it’ll save you from a rude awakening when you renew your insurance.

Sandra provided insights on the different standards applied to insurance claims for private and public vehicles. According to her, they are both assessed separately. Public vehicles are on the road frequently and hence, the possibility of being involved in an accident is higher. This translates to higher risk which prompted insurance companies to deal with them separately. Likewise, the premiums for both types of vehicles are different.

Another difference is that private vehicles are not required to be inspected by PUSPAKOM annually. It’s easier to renew road tax for private vehicles while public vehicles can only renew their road tax with JPJ, only upon certification from PUSPAKOM. The road tax rate also differs.

Sandra cautioned that an accident with a motorcycle is even more complicated.

The drafting of insurance laws in Malaysia follows those in the United Kingdom. So, Malaysia is not unique in having such regulations. She is unsure whether such law has been amended in the United Kingdom.

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