Motivation

For the past couple of months I have been going around teaching local seafarers, generally helping them to get their license. This is critical for them to continue their livelihood. Without the license their boats will not be allowed out on the waters. There are fisherman, tourist guide, mangrove workers, fish farmers and an assortment of people needing this license. It is not so much educating them but at the same time being educated by them. There's a whole lot that I learnt in my interaction with them. Following are some of the interesting snippets.

Port Klang

Mainly participants from Pulau Ketam. Ethnic Chinese speaking their own dialects, most of whom are not fluent in either English or Bahasa Malaysia. Some can't even read or write. What they lacked in communication skills, they made up in enthusiasm to learn. Not exactly learn, as some have been at sea for more than a decade, just putting their local knowledge in the perspective of current rules and regulations. One middle aged guy stands out. He came in on the first day wearing shorts, singlets and slippers. Sat on the chair with a leg up. It was his daily behaviour. Until he was told by department people that he must come in slacks and shirt and that he must adhere to acceptable dressing codes. The next day he came in wearing tight shiny bell bottomed slacks matched with a white see through lacy shirt with big collars and high heeled pointed tip shoes. Remember the disco era ?

I almost fell to the floor laughing till it hit me that these are the only "acceptable" outfit this guy has. I mean, why would he need slacks and dress shirts at his fish farm or out at sea. It was funny nonetheless and he just flashed a toothy grin when we joked about his disco days.

Pulau Ketam is not just about fish farm and boats. It has its share of social problems. I learnt that the population is down to about 6,000 from 20,000 people. The youths are not interested to continue their way of life.

They move about the island on two wheels. They have cars but it has to be left on the mainland. The main culprit however, is the Internet cafe. These outlets entice their children, provide credit and let their kids play at all hour. Some skip school, some build up huge amount of debt (huge to them may seem a pittance to you) and some become unruly. When the bill is high enough they will make the children haul in their gramma or grampa to pay.

Port of Tanjung Pelepas

This is where for the first time ever, I taught a grandfather who has his son and grandson in the same class. To make it more of an experience, the grandfather is a Chinese married to the native (orang asli) and thus you have a grandson whose name goes like Ali Bin Tan Ah Kau. These people are mainly involved in fish farming and mangrove harvesting. Most can't read or write. Their hands are tough and scaly like the bark of the mangrove trees. I kid you not as I have to hold their hands to teach them to use parallel rulers and dividers.

Similar to those from Pulau Ketam, these group are enthusiastic and are willing learners. We stayed in class until past midnight. I learn that they do not fear the snakes and crocodiles in the mangrove but seek them out instead. Why ? A good sized crocodile could easily earn them RM2,000. Now that's motivation.

Melaka

After numerous classes dealing with people who can't read, write or speak proper English or Malay, it came as a shock when the first question we asked was answered by "search on the Internet". Phew, that's like a culture shock for us. That's human conditioning. What we can surmise is that Melaka is a tourist town thus these people are more savvy.

These are just some of the more memorable scenarios. Oh, we have participants coming in an S Class and huge expensive cars too. Their motivation for the license is slightly different from the rest but still as important I guess.

New Book

A new book on maritime security due to be out in September 2008. I am one of the contributors, check it out at Amazon.com.

True objective

An interesting character was made known to me recently. What started out as mindless chit chat about cars turned out to be deep heavy stuff about one's journey through time.

The chance conversation took place at a highway rest area. A middle aged man, elegant with a confidence that could only be provided by being well educated and well travelled approached me to ask about my car. He knows the brand but not the model. The top was down so that attracted him. I am not a very social person and most of the time would balk at being approached by strangers. This guy though was different. We started talking as if we had known each other for years.

From cars we moved to work. He runs his own business after leaving government service. Doing quite well and expanding hence his need to be on the road. Has a home in a nice area with a doting family and friends by his side. He seems to have a perfect life which led me to ask what is his objective in life now as most if not all goals has been reached. His answer stunned me. He said "my objective is to die". Then he explained that there are no certainties in this world, the only thing that is certain is that we will one day die. Therefore, that became his ultimate objective. However, we can't just wait for that day to come. We were put on this earth for a purpose, we are humans not animals so we need to behave like one.

Behaving like one entails being involved in society, having a role and function which in turn will determine your level of comfort as you bid your time in this world. Do you think you deserve the car you are driving now ? He asks. If you do, then did you plan on getting it or was it somehow delivered to you as you go through your life ? If you did plan then the car became your life's objective, is your life that cheap ? Then he smiled and says, go for the ultimate and everything else will seem inconsequential. With that we shook hands and parted ways.

I stood there finishing off yet another Marlboro Lights, thinking about his words as he zoomed by and waved from his shiny Porsche Boxster. I didn't even get his name nor he mine.

Solitude

Solitude and tranquility....

Found and Lost

Seven days has passed since Ayah (my father in law) is gone. There has been quite a few tribute for him over the net by cousins and relatives. Aji's has been the most touching - its the only one I manage to read anyway. His writing in part inspired me to write about my perspective, my story with Ayah.

For me his journey began on Friday right after Friday prayers. It was the day I took delivery of a new toy that I have been wanting since I was a kid. A convertible, black with red leather trim. He is the only person who knew that the car was coming and has been anxiously waiting to feel and touch the car. He is blind, yet his love for cars never wanes. To him a car is not just a mode of transport but also a means to affirm one's status in life. Not to show off, merely to mark life's success. His background dictates this sentiments which I do not subscribe to. One of the things that we agree to disagree on. He would have been more pleased if it was Mercedes. Sorry Ayah, even if I could afford one I would not want to take the attention and risk...

My life has been quite hectic, I took the car, went for Friday prayers and drop by the house intending to show it to him. He was upstairs in his room, lying down reciting prayers. I excitedly told him about the car. He mumbled a few words and dismissed me. I left in a hurry thinking to myself, never mind, I'll take him for a ride later tonight. This never happens.

After midnight, mummy called saying that Ayah is not responding to her words. We rushed over, there he was still reciting his prayers and struggling with his life. His feet has gone cold. I knew then that his time was near but I did not dare say it to the rest. I went down, fixed the auto gate which somehow got stuck and call my partner. To confirm my feeling and to draw from his strength. Following his advise, we recited Yassin, to ease his struggle. It was during this time that I broke down, not for him but for me. It was at that instant, the thought struck me. No matter who you have or what you have, at that particular moment, it will just be you and yourself. Will I have the strength, will I have the patience, will I bear the pain ?

An hour or so later, he passed motion. We cleaned him, changed his sheets and lay him down again. The ambulance came at about four. I stayed home with the kids. After subuh prayers, the call came. Ayah is no more. I got into my practical mode. Mentally ticking lists of things to do and people to see. His remains arrive back home at about ten. We were lucky to get a plot in Bukit Kiara. There I was honoured to be one of those holding and carrying him into his final resting place.

I thank god for giving me 15 years with him. He was my confidant, someone whom I can talk to about anything. He replaced my biological father whom I was never close to. It has not been all rosy. We had our fights and disagreement, but we still had each other. One of the biggest argument ended with my wife and I being chased out of his house. Well, actually at the end of the argument he said - I think you better move out. I agreed and he promptly found a place and made the arrangements for us. Even then he took care of us, our kids, iron out clothes, wash our cars. He gave us his life.

Semoga Allah mencucuri rahmat and meletakkan dia dikalangan orang-orang yang soleh. Al-Fatihah.