“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

From LoyarBurok: Two Women, Two Tribes and a Journey of a Lifetime [Part V]

Two Women, Two Tribes, and a Journey of a Lifetime is a 9-part series penned by Lim Ka Eaabout her one year stint in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia where she accompanied her husband on his 9th humanitarian mission. No stranger to travel and humanitarian missions herself, she learned that Ethiopia is not really Africa and Africa is not really all about national parks or long distance-runners. She also learned that being a "tai-tai" is so overrated unless there is another "tai-tai" to get into mischief with. This 9-parter tells the story of how two "tai-tais" explored Ethiopia and discovered their life as both an individual and a woman. This weekly series started with Part I: My first encounter with Africa, Part II: The faces, sounds and smell of Addis Ababa, Part III: The gift of a kindred spirit and Part IV: Getting in synch with nature.

Part V – Hardships and friendship

I’ve never really told Irada how I felt about this because at some level, I understand that a photographer has to take certain risks in order to capture that rare moment. Jalalem, on the other hand, was not as understanding. He was very much annoyed by our behaviour and possibly perceived them as parsimonious.  In the beginning, Jalalem would often ignore Irada’s urgent signal to stop the car when she saw something photo-worthy. We didn’t know whether it was his lack of urgency, understanding of English or he simply established that if we were not going to pay, he was not going to bother stopping.

My own frustration was of a completely different nature. It was extremely challenging for me to try to understand things in order to document our journey. Despite the fact that talking is free of charge here, it was difficult to communicate with some of the people we met since we did not have a translator. I am sceptical as to the accuracy of what had been translated to me by Jalalem and other local people who speak very little English.

In addition to this, the local women are often shy, possibly exacerbated by very low level of education and exposure to the outside world. They hardly spoke a word to us which made it even more difficult to interview them. If this was not the case, then very often, men spoke on behalf of them. Some women even shied away from being photographed although I would still approach them to talk to them. I had to raise both arms up with my palms wide open to reassure them that I had no camera with me.

Closer to the end of our trip, we finally established a better rapport and understanding with Jalalem. He provided us with some useful hints to facilitate our mission. He taught us the local tribal word, Jaala which means “friend”,  as a form of greeting, indicating friendship and solidarity. From then onwards, we could not stop screaming Jaala! Jaala! at almost everyone we saw on the way, much to their amusement but to Jalalem’s mortification. He also helped us to trade pictures for candies but this usually worked with children only.

Water and women – the vital sources of life

We were very often chased by half naked children in need of a good scrub, after our car and surprisingly with great speed. Their agility  and athleticism were only matched by their vocal chord as they screamed Highland! Highland! which to the unfamiliar ears, sounded like Thailand. Perhaps that is one of the reasons why Ethiopia has such a big pool of great runners.

Some boys even tried to attract our attention by doing a sort of local dance consisting of jumping jacks executed from a squatting position.  Trust me, it didn’t look easy and the Russians may be able to learn a thing or two from these boys. We later learned that due to the scarcity of water, empty plastic bottles or “Highland”, named after one of the popular local brands of bottled water, are in high demand in almost every part of the country. They are used to collect water from the river or even puddles of muddy water left behind by the rain. Forlorn-looking donkeys, used as mobile water tanks, were seen carrying bright yellow plastic jerry cans filled with water.

Local women are a vital source of life, not only because they are mothers, they are also responsible for the difficult task of collecting water. Almost throughout the whole journey, women are often seen walking for miles in order to reach water points or rivers, which are often completely dried up. Each woman, with a 20-litre jerry can strapped onto their backs, some pregnant and some riped with old age, take their task seriously as they often risk sexual harassment due to long distance of isolated paths taken to reach the water source. Humanitarian organisations have often tried to make sure that new water wells are being constructed as close as possible to their homes in order to avoid such risk.

It is heart wrenching to think that many of these pregnant women probably risk losing their unborn babies and some even their lives while delivering, due to such harsh condition. Reliable statistics have shown that the neo-natal mortality rate in Ethiopia is as high as 51 per 1,000 live births and the maternal mortality rate is at 720 per 100,000 live births.

Many women also suffer from gradual distortion of their backs due to the burden of such brutal weight. We had seen some elderly women walking and bearing the cruelty of life, with their backs bent forward permanently to almost a ninety-degree.

For many of us who never have to submit to such hardship, it boggles the mind to see how many of them could still muster a beautiful smile which weighed more than the weight they carry on their back by a million times.

Arba Minch – “It’s a good sign”

We finally reached Arba Minch at around 4:30pm. Elevated at around 1,600m, it provides a spectacular view of the Rift Valley and nearby lakes from above. The largest city in the south-western part of Ethiopia, Arba Minch, means forty springs in Amharic, is indeed more developed and sophisticated than other places we have been outside the capital. It is well-known for three things, Nechisar National Park, Lake Abaya and Lake Chamo.

Our first experience with Lake Abaya and Chamo were truly magical. The lakes are divided by Nechisar National Park in the middle, also named fondly as the Bridge of Heaven, provides a startling contrast between the salmon pinkish water of Lake Abaya and the clear blue water of Chamo. The former’s water colour is a result of elevated natural concentration of suspended ferrous hydroxide.

What further amazed us was a rainbow, perfect in its shape, size and colour, arching over the lakes from one end to the other. If heaven really exists, then this was how I would have imagined it. Irada, who was previously apprehensive about her ability to obtain good photographs, told me that the rainbow was a good sign. She once gave me a brief lesson in photography and as I remember it well, she told me that to take a fantastic photograph, it often depends on three things; luck, lighting and composition. Anyone can hone the necessary skills or techniques to become a photographer but without luck, even the best photographers will not be able to secure an outstanding photograph. To her, it was purely luck that we had arrived in Arba Minch with this rare gift of a magnificent view.

After being deprived of fresh seafood in Addis Ababa, we feasted on grilled tilapias caught from the lakes. Nothing had ever tasted so good throughout the time I had spent in Addis Ababa. The fact that we were both starving could also be a contributing factor. The beers were nicely chilled and hence provided us with a delightful change from the often lukewarm beers in Addis Ababa due to the power cut.

By 8 pm, we were both sitting in our hotel room, completely bored and missing our family back in Addis Ababa. With no television or radio to provide us with some entertainment, we were engulfed in the complete stillness and silence of the night. With our 5 litres of untouched white wine staring at us from above a cabinet, we unanimously decided to drown our boredom in some alcohol. After several cups of bottoms up, we settled into bed early that night, exhausted but exhilarated at the same time after all the excitement in one day. Perhaps it was the white wine finally working its way through our system. Whatever it was, we sighed in contentment as we turned off the lights and bid each other goodnight.

As I closed my eyes, I thought about our impending camping trip at the Mago National Park with slight trepidation. I think what had worried me most about the journey was the constant warning of the threat of Sleeping Sickness caused by Tsetse flies in Mago. Once bitten, it apparently results in instant coma. But as I finally dozed off, I heard the echo of Irada’s voice saying, “It’s a good sign.” I thought, if the appearance of a rainbow could provide luck to a photographer, I hope it would provide the same for two women at Mago National Park.

Next: Part VI – Our first sighting of a local traditional tribe

Ka Ea used to be a globe trotter. She has lived in Timor Leste and Afghanistan while working as a civic education and human rights officers for the United Nations. She then tried to be a full time housewife in Ethiopia and Cambodia but failed miserably. Now, she works with lawyers and human rights activists by day and watches Discovery Travel & Living by night. She writes for The Malaysian Insider during her dwindling free time. She longs for the day when someone would pay her to travel, eat and write.

Irada Humbatova was born in Azerbaijan’s capital Baku on 12 July 1974. She trained and worked as a midwife from 1994 to 1997, later assisting the International Federation of the Red Cross/Red Crescent with maternal health work by training and supporting traditional birth attendants in rural areas. Since then she has followed her husband on Red Cross missions around the world, developing her love for photography into a passion and profession. Inspired by Africa’s immense beauty and its people’s suffering she moved from art photography to photojournalism. She has since grown to become Reuters’ stringer for Ethiopia and work on assignments for other news outlets and magazines. Irada is currently back in Baku continuing her work with Reuters. She contributes most of the photographs in this series.

Technorati Tags: Irada Humbatova,Ethiopia,Arba Minch,Nechisar National Park,Lake Abaya,Lake Chamo,Bridge of Heaven,Mago National Park,Tsetse flies,Sleeping Sickness,Reuters,Lim Ka Ea

The Breakup

I was promiscuous, lackadaisical and non-committal. She was needy, pushy and manipulative.

I secretly think all she really cares about is money.

It wasn’t until a couple of months later from the day we first met that it became clear we had very different expectations. Our relationship was making me unhappy but I stayed on by holding her to her promise that she knew how to make a woman feels and looks good.

Needless to say, I subsequently took a distance from her. The phone calls kept coming and I began to lie. The excuses were always the same. I was busy and I would see her another time.

I suppose it was bound to happen although I didn’t think she saw it coming. She probably thought I didn’t have the galls but I finally pulled the plug and it’s over.

I am relieved.

The relationship started more than six years ago. I had received a birthday card with a gift voucher insert from my bank. It said in Calibri font-sized 11, as a valued customer, I was entitled to a spa treatment worth RM250.

It was irresistible and before I knew it, one thing had led to another.

Like most first dates, I was treated like a queen worthy of the best treatment. I was pampered and I left feeling good but not before being seduced into signing a contract for another six treatments at a discounted rate. I was told that the special rate would no longer be valid the day after, that I simply must seize this purportedly rare opportunity. Being a sucker for big discounts, I caved without knowing that it would become her regular pick-up line, usually right before my contract ended.

At this point, I should confess that the climax of our dates were good, just not the foreplay. All treatments were accompanied by the customary marketing pitch and they usually began as soon as I shut my eyes in a silent hope of a much needed 2-hour relaxation and quiet. The beauticians had a militant way about them. No matter what the condition of my skin was, there was always something to improve and they never fail to offer solutions. If only they could apply their resourcefulness on achieving world peace.

While she spoke of how treatment A would add benefit to treatment B and how treatment C would benefit more from treatment D, I would often let out an incoherent and non-committal grunt and willed her to stop.

I mentally listed the number of things I would tell her:

1. I did not pay money to be harassed;
2. You have no right to push your products on me without an invitation, not especially when I’m in that sacred horizontal position;
3. You should stop playing elevator music because it shows a lack of taste and class;
4. You should learn to tip-toe and whisper because silence is what I expect;
5. If you value my patronage, just shut up and only do what I’ve paid you to do.

These thoughts were never shared as I feared that if I had unleashed them, we would end up in a war zone since I’m not the most diplomatic person in the world after all. She saw that weakness and used it to her advantage. I ended up signing for more treatments I didn’t care for. It was a huge price to pay just to avoid ugly confrontation and very bad services.

That was when the unhappiness began. I was often doused in shame and guilt for being a complete push-over. It came to a point when our meetings became something I dreaded.

Soon enough, I began to see other people. The temptation was way too much. With great discounts from a wide range of spas from Groupon, what is a girl to do?!

Unsurprisingly, they were usually the same. Thankfully, I had learned my lesson and was able to make it clear from the beginning that I am not the committing kind, especially if they’re the pushy and manipulative type.

After more than six years, I finally met the one. She is kind, not intrusive and respectful. She understands my needs and gives me what I want. We have real conversations. She talked about how she couldn’t wait to leave the establishment and she wants to make it on her own. She’ll be offering her services from her humble home she shares with her elderly parents. I like a girl with ambitions and I like the thought that she’ll be keeping the money I pay all to herself. She deserves it after all and she wouldn’t need to push so hard like the other girls.

So last week, I finally told her that I will be leaving the country in September. I won’t be seeing her anymore. The distance would make it impossible for me to commit. It was a lie but most breakups are never honest anyway.

From the look on her face, I could see she was unhappy. She tried her best to persuade me to make the most of my remaining stay by seeing her more often. I said no with a smug smile, secretly hoping that she knew I was lying.

Breakups are never easy but sometimes, a girl needs to learn how to say no. Politeness and civility are not an option, not especially when the lying starts.

Technorati Tags: Spa treatment,pushy beautician,manipulative beautician,beauty salon,beauty parlour,facial treatment,sign up packages,beauty treatment

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.

Technorati Tags: AIA Malaysia,AXA Affin Malaysia,Bank Negara,Etiqa Insurance,General Insurance Association of Malaysia,Knock-For-Knock,Kurnia Insurans Malaysia,Lim Ka Ea,Loss Adjustor,Loss of Use,No Claim Bonus,No-Fault Own Damage,Road Transport Department,third party claims,Zurich Insurance Malaysia Berhad,Road accident+Public Transport

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

When will you wake up?

This post was originally published on The Malaysian Insider on 29 March 2012.

As soon as the digital quacking of ducks pierces the morning silence, it’s time to wake up.

It’s 7am on a Saturday and as usual, I wish for another 30 minutes in bed. While doing so, I deprecate myself for staying up late the night before.

As I drag myself into the kitchen to make a strong pot of coffee, I can’t resist asking, “Why did I sign up for this?”

This early morning scene has become a regular affair. It usually starts with a conversation with myself — mainly made up of questions that can only be answered rationally once I hit the shower.

“Surely I deserve a Saturday off?”

“Why can’t someone else do it?”

“I can always call in sick. It’s not a big deal, is it?”

Driving to the rural areas of Hulu Langat on an early morning is always a welcome change of scenery. The air is fresh, the roads are narrow and winding and the landscape green. The real pleasure though is the people; including those I carpool with. It’s a privileged time when we share conversations about ourselves and, inevitably, of politics and human rights.

It’s always difficult in the beginning when the local residents eye us suspiciously. There’s no doubt that we’re not orang tempatan. We dress, speak and behave differently but I secretly think that it’s the jerseys we wear that really ignite the curiosity in them.

With “UndiMsia!” written in bright orange across our chests, the questions we’re often asked are, “You ni dari gomen ke?”, “Apa ni UndiMalaysia?” “You Pakatankah (or replace this with the other coalition party)?”

It never ceases to amuse me that the word “elect” is always linked to political parties.

First order of the day often involves explaining at length what UndiMsia! does. It’s important to dispel any myth that we’re politically aligned. We’re neither the government, Barisan Nasional, Pakatan Rakyat nor any other political parties that are banned or otherwise. We also need to ensure that the people in Hulu Langat understand the objectives of participating in our Laporan Rakyat project.

The reaction we receive from the people invariably ranges from skepticism and fearful to indifference and encouraging. It’s certainly not an easy task to walk into a random restaurant and expect people to score their state assemblyman and member of Parliament’s performances, not especially when most people we have met have no inkling who their elected representatives are.

While some volunteers faced the disappointment of being turned away like a leper, I’ve had very positive experiences with many people. Sure, I’ve had my share of disappointment but in general the locals have been more than friendly, sympathetic and welcoming.

There are times when I receive warm invitations to share a meal or a drink with them. They always insist on paying. It gets difficult by the third cup of teh tarik that is often never kurang manis but a gracious acceptance is always the courteous thing to do.

There was an occasion when I approached two young women in a mamak restaurant during lunch time. After giving my customary greeting and explanation of the project, they turned down my invitation to conduct the survey on them. It was noon and I was desperate to achieve my quota for the day. They were hungry and couldn’t wait to dig into their lunches that were turning cold on the table.

I resorted to appeal to their sympathy. I told them that I would get into serious trouble with my employer if I didn’t achieve my quota for that day. Their tone of voice softened immediately and they invited me to sit on the table with them. “OK, we’ll answer but please, first order something to eat. It’s lunch time. You must be hungry. We eat together and you can ask us the questions.”

We had the most interesting conversation that day. It was beyond politics and governance. I learned that they have been friends since primary school and they’re renting a house together. According to one of them, they have been inseparable since they’ve known each other.

On another occasion, I had approached a table with five elderly men sharing a drink and banter together. One of them stopped me in mid-sentence, “Amoi, you boleh cakap Melayu atau Cina kah?” Having identified him as of Chinese descent, I informed him that I am able to speak Melayu and Hokkien. He then proceeded to speak in Mandarin and in a childish fashion, nudged the man sitting next to him and said in Malay, “Ahhh… ini Melayu ya. Nampak itu kulit hitam sikit.” They all burst out laughing.

Feeling encouraged, the same man pointed to

another elderly man sitting at the front and said in Mandarin, “He’s an indigenous person living far from here. Eighty-years-old already!” The man flashed me an infectious toothless grin.

As I talked to them in broken Malay and Mandarin, I learned that they’ve all grown up together in this small village.

In answering the first question I ask myself in the morning, these are the motivations that help me leave the comfort of my bed on a Saturday morning. It always ends on a high note.

A few weeks ago when news reached us that a flood had hit Hulu Langat, a team of volunteers led a small relief operation to help some of the victims. Some of the locals have expressed their disappointment at how help has been mobilised too slowly by their local leaders. Many also lamented that nothing much has been done to prevent the flood from recurring from year to year. Another common grievance we heard was how aid from a certain political party has only reached those who support the said party.

The disaster that hit Hulu Langat has reinforced the key messages that UndiMsia! is trying to impart; good governance and citizen actions on housing issues, amongst other things.

On March 31, UndiMsia! is launching a photo competition and exhibition in Hulu Langat. Photographs taken by local youths and some of our volunteers will be exhibited. It is hoped that this humble event will draw the local leaders and community together to discuss housing issues affecting the people in Hulu Langat.

Those who have volunteered for the Laporan Rakyat project will share the sentiments of UndiMsia! There’s much to be done in terms of civic education. More than half of the youths of voting age I’ve met do not know who their elected representatives are or what they’ve done for their community. Even fewer know what they can do as a citizen to improve their lives.

When do you think we, as Malaysians, will finally wake up from our deep slumber?

For more information on UndiMsia!’s Hangatkan Langat! Photo Competition and Exhibition, please click here and for other UndiMsia! projects, please click here.

Technorati Tags: Hulu Langat,UndiMsia!,Barisan Nasional,Pakatan Rakyat,Hangatkan Langat!