The first drop of cold water on a hot sunny day

In the past few months, I find myself receiving sad news from friends living abroad. The death of a loved one, a child inflicted with illness, frustration in relationships and the breakdown of a marriage. It has been a long time since I’ve heard someone ranting about something as mundane and inconsequential as office politics.

I am uncertain whether it’s because I’m an adult now and hence the people I know are bound to experience adult problems, or it’s simply a dark cloud lingering above us waiting to past, just like the economy.

Adulthood seemed to hit me once I got married three years ago. Gone are the days when I could just pack my bags and travel to post conflict countries like Timor Leste, got myself into life-threatening situations in Afghanistan and then still dream of doing something for the people in Darfur. The days of having only myself to account for are numbered.

During the last few years, I found myself living in the shadows of my husband. We travelled to Ethiopia and Cambodia for his work and what would normally have been a gratifying experience, ended up in self-deprecation. In case you’re wondering, the problem wasn’t my husband. It was the state of unemployment which nudged me into questioning my individual sense of purpose.

It wasn’t until I met a photographer in Ethiopia that I began to see that sense of purpose again. It has taken me a long and tumultuous journey before arriving here today.

The journey started on the day when I agreed to take a trip with my photographer friend to South Omo Valley, a region in Ethiopia where the lip-plated Mursi tribe habitates. She wanted to take some photos and needed a travel companion. Anything to do with travelling thrills me and although I was ready to go, I was unhappy with the fact that such rare and precious occasion would end up being just another fading memory.

Unwilling to settle as a tourist, I turned the images I saw and the conversation I had into child-like scribbles while sitting at the back of a Toyoto Cobra on a rocky journey to Mursiland. Once converted into typed-out letters, we submitted our stories and photos to travel magazines.

Unfortunately, our story didn’t sell but it reminded me how much I love to write. Since then, I’ve chanelled a lot of my thoughts and energy into writing. I became more focussed and happier as a person.

Although it was purely self-indulgent, it opened up my mind and heart in ways I never knew I could. I begin to pay attention to small details such as colour, smell, taste and sound; things I often took for granted.

Before, I thought the formula for my happiness includes having a family, friends and a well-paid job. If one of them was missing, it meant something was wrong and hence, I couldn’t be happy.

When we moved to Cambodia last year, I was more prepared to deal with the consequences of unemployment. I started a blog and although it’s not as successful as I’ve hoped for, I continue to write as fervently as I could. Writing became a reassuring comfort in the midst of great uncertainties.

I applied for a writing course and submitted a couple of short stories for competition but they were all met without success.

Yet, I continue to write. Some of you might wonder why don’t I just give up? It obviously proves that I’m not good at it.

The simple answer is, I was writing for myself. It was the only thing which I understand and in return, understands me.

It would seem that many of us sometimes forget the essence of our own happiness. We get caught up with family affairs, work stress, security threats, global miseries and all the sad stories surrounding us that we forget to live.

When a loved one is sick, a friend is in distress, a neighbour is wrongly persecuted or when our country is falling apart, we feel that it is selfish to indulge in what makes us happy.

On the contrary, I feel that it’s even more important for each and everyone of us to find that happiness during such bleak moments. For most parts, it helps to restore our hope for life and humanity. We all know that it’s easier to feel pessimistic and miserable about life when we’re down than when we’re up and yet we turn out backs on logical solutions such as finding joy and meaning in life.

Not too long ago, I asked my photographer friend whether she has ever felt uninspired with what she does. She admitted that she has her down days; when everything seems to go wrong and nothing she does ever feels good enough.

When I asked her whether she has any miracle cure for that, she answered, “Once a month, I take photographs of whatever I like. I set these photos aside and keep them for myself. Even if they’re really good, I don’t sell them. They are for me alone. This is how I remind myself why I love photography in the first place. I don’t do it just for money or glory but simply for myself.”

So when a friend confides in me how they are struggling with life, I often tell them to take some time and space to find something that fulfils them emotionally and spiritually. Like our bodies, these aspects of our lives need nourishment but sadly are too often being ignored. It is not being selfish, but self-feeding. We need to respond to the distress calls from our inner self rather than just hoping it would go away by itself.

Having said this, I don’t mean to advocate for people to start burying their heads in the sand. I’m advocating for people not to bury themselves in misery and learn to find some goodness and happiness in their lives.

If I had allowed myself to drown instead of looking for that buoy of life, I wouldn’t have gotten this column. Finding happiness during times of depression is like the first drop of cold water on your bare skin on a hot sunny day, the first gulp of air as you submerge from the pool and the first moment your head hit the pillow after a tiring day. It’s a gift that will help you gain the strength to brave life’s challenges.

When someone from the Malaysian Insider told me that I’ll be given a column and I can write anything I want, I thought to myself, “After four years, something good finally happens to me.”

I was wrong.

The good thing already started when I got married, when sixty job applications were turned down, when I was second-guessing my own worth and above all, when I thought I would never find my own sense of direction again.

The good thing started when I learn to embrace what makes me happy.

P/s: What would be a miracle cure for you? If you haven’t found one already, perhaps it’s time to look for one that works for you.

This piece was featured on The Malaysian Insider, 22 August 2009: http://www.themalaysianinsider.net.my/index.php/opinion/lim-ka-ea 

Religion versus culture

My birth certificate states that I am Buddhist although I think my grandparents were Taoists. My parents are both Atheists. When I was 17, I tried to embrace Christianity and later attended an Anglican Church religiously. Then, when I was 25, I decided to explore Islam and spent about two years learning and practicing the religion.

I am curious about Judaism and Confucianism and even more intrigued by Sikhism and Hinduism. What am I then? I don’t really know and I am contented with not knowing.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, “religion” is defined as a particular system of faith and worship or a form of recognition on the part of man of some higher unseen power as having control of his destiny to warrant obedience, reverence and worship.

So, if this is what defines religion, then I think I do have one because deep down, I believe in a higher divine power that has created all living things and each with a purpose. Although I have no idea who or what this divine power is, there is faith in me that it exists.

This faith is revealed to me and reinforced again and again whenever I witness the wonders of this world. The beauty and practicality of each organism inspires me to believe that there is a Creator who is amazingly creative and obsessed with perfection.

The only problem though, I don’t worship this Creator because I have no idea who or what it is, but I feel an absolute awe in its creations and try my best to respect them because it’s through the latter that the former is being revealed.

Now, I do wonder whether all these so-called religions practised by people around us today deserve to be called religion at all. For a start, many of them are either borne with the religion (such as my case), brought up to believe that this is the religion they belong to or by conversion through marriage or adoption.

I would like to argue that what we understand as religion today is actually a cultural practice. According to the Webster New World Dictionary, “culture” is the development, improvement and refinement of the mind, emotions, interests, manners and tastes, as well as arts, ideas, customs and skills of a given people in a given period of time. The Oxford English Dictionary defines it as the intellectual side of civilization.

If you notice, all the religions as we know of today; Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam, etc. were in fact revealed to a group of people at a specific period of time and through them, different practices were adopted and then practised for centuries later. Many religions have contributed to the development of great civilizations, arts, science, medicine, etc. In fact, if I remember my History lessons well, Islam was revealed to end the age of “jahiliah” or pagan ignorance.

Sure, they would like to believe that these practices are divine order and claim that it is through faith that they believe. My question is, is it really faith or simply cultural upbringing? After all, what they know about their religions are from secondary sources.

When a child is borne of a Hindu family, she is taught that cows are sacred and she is told to offer prayers and worship to the Hindu Gods. If she is being brought up in a Christian family, she learns that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and her Saviour. She will follow her parents to church every Sunday and told to repent her sins. If she is Muslim, then she will be told that pork and alcohol are completely forbidden in Islam. This child, depending on which family she is being borne into, will learn the Holy Scripture of the religion and have her believe that this is the religion she belongs to.

While some children may be lucky enough to be given an opportunity to learn about other religions and eventually an option to choose, many do not. Is this called faith then and more importantly, does this qualify as religion?

I have known a couple of people who identify themselves as Muslims and yet, they consume alcohol but never pork. Does that mean they are Muslims? I don’t know and I don’t question anymore because to me, it is irrelevant. I do not associate Islam as a religion, but merely a cultural practice. Does that mean they do not have a religion? Again, I don’t know because it depends on their system of faith. If they have faith that there is a divine power who determines their lives and deaths, then does it really matter to me whether they consume alcohol or not?

I left the Anglican Church because I thought that I have committed a sin which is frowned upon by the church and refused to embrace a religion without fully practising what it preaches. Then, I question this so-called religion. Did I commit a sin because “someone”  judges it so, or because God says so? Well, God hasn’t answered to me yet.

I am always curious what motivates someone to have faith in their religion. A common question I pose is how they know whether their religion is THE truth? Many people would often tell me, “It’s faith that guides me to believe.” But where does this faith come from? From your parents? The church? The mosque? Your friends? And most importantly, does this faith have to be defined, given a specific name and be exclusive rather than inclusive?

To me, faith has to come from within. I have no faith in a religion which makes me feel guilty about everything and instil in me a fear which I don’t truly comprehend. On the other hand, I have faith in a religion which teaches compassion, kindness, honesty, love and respect for all its creation.

Casting the Talibans away

Since my previous post, Afghanistan has seen another huge assault on their struggle towards democracy. With the Presidential elections two days away, the Taliban has fortified their determination to destabilize peace and security by instilling fear amongst those who hope to see a reformed government that was filled with corruption and abuse of power.

Having worked for the first Presidential election five years ago, it saddens me to feel as if nothing has changed. In fact, it would seem as if things have gone from bad to worse. Security has never been as fragile as now.

With more than 50 people wounded and 7 dead from the suicide bombing near the city of Kabul today, it’s hard to see any glimmer of hope for the people of Afghanistan. The BBC has reported on the widespread of violence in other other parts of the country on the same day.

The series of attacks and intimidation suffered by the Afghans may very well deter them from casting their ballots come Thursday. Will this then prove that the Taliban has won the war? It would, if this is precisely what will happen on polling day.

Having thought a bit about this, perhaps there is a silver lining somewhere along the assaults that have been carried out to injure the very spirit and essence of the Afghans. Would it be too presumptuous for me to think that the Taliban has increased their effort to reassert their authorities because they are finally being challenged by the very people they seek to control?

There is no denying that over the past few years, there is some sort of improvement in terms of human rights awareness amongst the Afghans, although many people would like to argue otherwise.

Sure, there are many things that are left to be desired; women’s rights, rule of law, freedom of expression and a government that is based on the principles of integrity and transparency.

However, if compared to five years ago, more and more Afghan women are starting to get back into the workforce although it is mainly in the cities only. The governor of Bamyan is a woman, the Chairperson of the Afghan Independence Human Rights Commission is also a woman and if I’m not mistaken, some women have also begun to learn how to drive.

Five years ago, there were no women candidates for the Presidential election. This year, there are two. Five years ago, there were 16 candidates but this year, 40.

Again, many would question the validity of these candidates but it doesn’t change the fact that there is an increasing space for democracy. I’ve read that presidential debates have been carried out and broadcasted live on Afghan television. I’ve read postings of local news and discussions by Afghan friends on Facebook and clearly see that there is a great shift from passive to being activists when it comes to the welfare of their country.

Five years ago, I worked with fellow Afghans who were local staff working for the UN. Last year, I know of one who has gone on to work in Sudan as an international staff and another who is travelling to Europe for his work with an international organization in Afghanistan. Not too long ago, it would be difficult to find an Afghan travelling abroad unless they are refugees, immigrants or those granted with political asylum.

I also know many of those who have remained in Afghanistan but continue to work courageously and fervently towards rebuilding their beloved country.

There are profound changes in the country no matter how insignificantly they might have appeared.

So perhaps, it’s not too far-fetched for me to assume that the Taliban has good reasons to be concerned. For the Afghans to give up now, it would greatly reduce their chance in winning the war against the Taliban.

As mentioned on my previous post, every Afghan has the power to change their country through the ballot box. It’s through this fundamental right that citizens have freed themselves from incompetent and abusive governments. It’s through this that a first African American was elected as the President of the United States.

Many good Afghans have died so that others can have the right to vote. Throwing this right away would make their deaths pointless and deny their children a future.

“Impress upon children the truth that the exercise of the elective franchise is a social duty of as solemn a nature as man can be called to perform; that a man may not innocently trifle with his vote; that every elector is a trustee as well for others as himself and that every measure he supports has an important bearing on the interests of others as well as on his own. "

- Daniel Webster

The power to change Afghanistan

I am a fan of The Tudors series. I don’t know how accurate the story is but wish that history lessons in school can be made more captivating like the series.

It would seem that King Henry VIII’s reign in England during the 16th century was plagued by religious upheaval; mainly the Lutheran movement in a predominantly Catholic nation and the creation of the Church of England.

The series portrayed King Henry VIII as a monarch who was so obsessed and occupied with his love affairs that he would rule the country with great misjudgement, tyranny and oblivion towards the suffering of his people.

In order to marry Anne Boleyn, he went against the Catholic church (what was considered as the Divine faith) by divorcing his Queen, Catherine of Aragon. This would mark the beginning of England’s separation from the Holy Sea or The Vatican as commonly known today.

King Henry VIII, once discovered the Boleyn family’s plot to manipulate him, ordered for the execution of his new queen. Eventually, he married Jane Seymour who died shortly after giving birth to his first legitimate son.

He then married again for the fourth time to a German aristocrat but succeeded to get the marriage annulled.

This post is not really about the history of England. I’ve mentioned it because there’s one scene in the series which is linked to what I read today on the BBC news.

Apparently, Afghanistan has officially endorsed a law which provides the right for a man to starve his wife if she refuses to have sex with him. It baffles me that such a law should exist in this day and age, especially when Afghanistan is trying to move towards democracy.

To me, instead of moving forward, what’s happening in Afghanistan today is a huge regression towards an archaic period filled with brutality, lawlessness and injustice practised only  by medieval Kings and Emperors granted with unlimited power.

When Jane Seymour was told by Lady Rochford, her lady-in-waiting, that King Henry VIII has taken a mistress, the noble Queen, while feeling dejected, implied that she had accepted the subjugation of women as part and parcel of life. Basically, whatever the King wishes for, it shall be granted without resistance. Whatever he decrees, let it be law.

I couldn’t help but notice too that the King uses religion to suit his whims and fancies. He doesn’t question the sinfulness of debauchery, adultery, corruption and summary executions but will not hesitate to punish those accused of heresy or treason in the name of religion.

Afghanistan is reliving this dark period and I ask myself how could this happen.

The men who support this law stand up boldly and say, this is what our religion says and it is divine. The women, hidden underneath their burqas, remain silent and helpless. In the mean time, what does the President of Afghanistan say?

When I looked at King Henry VIII, he is nothing but a man, made of flesh and blood; pathetic even. He eats, drinks and releases his bowels to stay alive. He falls ill, ages and dies as nature would have predicted him to. And yet, he holds the power to determine who shall live and who shall die.

Who gave him the power? The simple answer is, the people. Without the acceptance of his people to submit themselves to him, he would be nothing but just a common man, like you and I.

A friend asked, "”What can we do for the women in Afghanistan?” The simple answer is, the Afghans themselves. Stop giving power to those who use religion to control and to subjugate. Stop giving power to those who allow these religious fanatics to create senseless and archaic laws.

Stop voting for the person who is responsible for this. Without your support, they will not have the power.

The narcissist in me

So I got hit by the vanity bug this week. I thought this day would never come, not even on my wedding day. For my wedding, I wore a simple dress bought on the day before in such haste that I still had the price tag on when we arrived at the registrar.

Anyway, I was informed that I would be given a column on the Malaysian Insider starting two weeks from now. Yes, very exciting news and I was really really chuffed especially when I was told that I can write about anything I want. Hooray!

In reality, I was shocked by the news. When I first started having discussion with someone from the Malaysian Insider, I never thought that this would turn out to be something so great. So, you can understand why I couldn’t believe it.

When I asked the person whether there should be some kind of a theme for my column, she suggested, “Why not call it Ka Ea’s life?” I was like, “Err….isn’t that a bit too egocentric?”

Truth be told, who was I kidding? It may have sounded egocentric but hey, aren’t most bloggers like that? (I know of one who is particularly self-centred).

So yes, as an afterthought, I realised what I said was purely false modesty and I hated myself for that. So, I’m going to try real hard not to turn my column into some sort of an intellectual emotional masturbation.

Anyway, going back to the vanity bug. I was also told that a photographer would be taking a photo of me and I must confess that I really felt uncomfortable. As far as writing is concerned, I have no problem feeling comfortable with who I am but when it comes to socializing or having my pictures taken by someone, I turn into a complete moron.

No joke. I guess I have my own complexes like many people. With writing, at least there is no actual physical contact with another person but when I’m in front of a person or the camera, I feel naked and vulnerable.

So, I made up my mind that I wasn’t going to make such a big deal out of this. If the photo turned out bad, I could always request them to Photoshop it. Then someone advised me that I should at least get my hair done. After all, this photo may accompany me for a long time if I manage to keep the column.

What started off as only a haircut went totally out of control. I insisted the hairstylist to keep it natural and messy. You know, the kind of hair where it looks nice and yet as if you have just gotten out of bed. I didn’t want it to look as if I had made too much effort.

When I explained to the hairstylist that I would be getting my portrait picture done, she advised me to get my make-up done as well. By now, you should realize that neither do I have naturally great hair nor a clear complexion. So much for having my ego boosted previously.

So now, she had really put me in a dilemma. Should I get my make-up done or not? If I did, then it proved that I was giving too much attention on this photo thingy. Wasn’t that a tad too narcissistic? Do I really care about people judging how I look rather than the substance of my writing? But if I didn’t, would I look at the photo and wished that I had done it?

Hmm…this has got to be the toughest decision of my life.

Of course, I gave in to the vanity bug. I traipsed to the cosmetic section, feeling rather silly. I felt lost and yes, naked. How does one get a make-up done and which one? Aahhh…Bobbi Brown. I’ve heard good things about it; neutral skin tone, etc. Just what I needed.

As soon as I was told that I had to purchase RM180 worth of products in order to get a free make-up, I immediately said no. What the hell was I going to do with the product after the photo session?

I was going to change my mind (I wasn’t going to approach all the cosmetic counters to be given the same answer) but the lady told me that Shu Uemura provides make-up service alone without the need to purchase any products. Goody! I always wanted to try out their fake eyelashes.

So there I was, sitting on the cosmetic counter on a Thursday morning, having my face covered with thick layers of concealer and what not. The funny thing was, I never realize how ridiculously delusional I could be.

I firmly informed the lady, “I would like the make-up to be as natural as possible. Neutral colours only. But ah, you see here?” I pointed at the angry spot on my right cheek. “Please do your best to hide it, ok?”

The lady looked at me with exasperation and as politely as she could, said, “Err….if you want the spot covered, I have to put on hairy make-up, wor.”

Hairy? What the hell is hairy make-up? I thought I had my hair done already.

After seeing how confused I was, she quickly added, “Ok, never mind. I know you don’t like hairy make-up. I will try to cover as much as possible. But can still see the spot a little bit. Okay-ah?”

Aahhh..she meant heavy make-up. Ok-lor what to do? Don’t have good skin but want to expect so much. See? This is how delusional I was.

Apart from learning the lesson that one should always dress up when having their make-up done (I was walking in shabby clothing around the mall but with a face that was ready to attend a ball), I’ve learned that anyone can look like a superstar. All you need is a professional make-up artist and fashion consultant.

J. Lo’s luscious long hair? Highlights and hair extension. Lucy Liu’s almond-shaped eyes with thick curly eyelashes? Mascara with fake lashes. Cameron Diaz’s luminous smooth skin? Concealer and liquid foundation.

I kid you not because the result was startling and I was unrecognizable. If you don’t believe me, I challenge you to try it out and see the result for yourself. Go on and surrender yourself to the vanity bug.

A personal matter of hygiene

I started doing my nails way before nail salons sprouted in Kuala Lumpur like weeds. At that time, Mom was appalled with what she saw as frivolous behaviour; paying someone to do my nails. Now, she understood that many women wouldn’t be seen dead in public functions without their nails done (although she’s not a convert yet).

Occasionally, I like my eyebrows threaded and plucked too. As far as personal hygiene is concerned, I limit myself to haircut, manicure, pedicure, facial, eyebrows trimming and body scrubbing. There’s one thing which I’m intrigued with but never have the courage to try. I’m thinking that most of you would have guessed what I’m referring to.

A few years ago, I was having my nails done at a beauty salon. A beautiful young lady in micro-mini skirt walked in and she was quickly ushered into a private room. I thought nothing of it except for envying her long slender legs.

A few minutes later, I heard a horrifying scream coming from the room. For that split second, I did wonder whether I was at a beauty salon or the dentist. The scream continued intermittently. The manicurist attending to me smiled apologetically and told me that the girl was having a Brazilian wax.

I first heard of the term Brazilian wax in Sex in the City and hence was familiar with the procedure. Nevertheless, I must confess that I was a tad surprised that Malaysians have started adopting it.

Since then, I began to hear more and more women I know who have their zones down under taken care of. Some personal testimonies I received were equivalent to that horrifying scream. Women have described to me how painful and uncomfortable this treatment can be. On top of this, they are subjected to vulnerable positions which are normally more suited for private bedroom activities. A gynaecology’s scrutiny would have been less invasive compared to this. Yet, some have told me that they can’t live without it.

So yes, my reluctance to try a Brazilian wax stems from my unwillingness to be placed under such humiliating and vulnerable positions in the hands of a complete stranger. Lying face down on all four and spreading my butt cheeks to expose my privates so that someone else can strip off unsightly pubic hair is too much for me to handle. However, I do admire the women who can; those who attend to it and those who get it done.

All these trimming, filing and plucking has made me ask this question: Since when did we start to think that personal hygiene isn’t such a personal matter anymore? We have begun to leave what our foremothers would have regarded as extremely private matters in the care of strangers? We expose our bare feet, discoloured toe nails, untrimmed cuticles and what not, right in front of someone else’s face to have them cleaned for us.

In some manners, women in the olden days were much more mysterious and fascinating. They turned up in public looking their best and got everyone wondered how did they do it? Now, everyone knows where a woman could get this and that done.

I used to get amused when I watched movies showing aristocrats being undressed, bathed, dressed and having their hair combed by a chamber maid. I often thought to myself then, “Damn. Don’t you guys have hands?” But when you look at how we willingly pay someone else to take care of many parts of our person, what difference does that make? The only difference is, only few could afford such luxury in the olden days but now, many of us can.

The bottom line is, whether it’s a frivolity or not, many of us cannot seem to live without. In the end, it’s really a personal matter when it comes to matters of personal hygiene.

As our standard of living and level of education increase, there’s no denying that many urban Malaysian women are now much more eager to engage and share hygiene and beauty tips. I just hope that these women would be as equally eager to engage and share personal health care such as breasts and pelvic examinations. After all, you can’t possibly care about your pubic hair without caring for your vagina first.