PS: The Avengers was incredible. My favourite superhero is Joss Whedon.

The mistake is a patch of soil on an otherwise beautiful garden I’ve made, right… here. I can’t stop looking at that damned patch. I’ve tried, but nothing wants to grow on it. Grass dies in spots under the soles of my shoes from staring at different angles and pointing it [...]]]>

The mistake is a patch of soil on an otherwise beautiful garden I’ve made, right… here. I can’t stop looking at that damned patch. I’ve tried, but nothing wants to grow on it. Grass dies in spots under the soles of my shoes from staring at different angles and pointing it out to just about any passerby who likes gardens.

Before I know it, there is a bareness big enough to build a room on. So I do. Was it easy? It must have been, because I move in, I extend, and if it hadn’t been easy I would not have made do. One night though, I might wake interrupted in a cold sweat, remembering: “I used to grow things.” Then, I’ll go check on my old gardening shoes in the corner of the closet. Their soles will likely be silent and dusty. The curtains in the house— covering the windows— also match this description.

What did that garden look like, anyway? I might wonder. Or (depending on the side of the bed I wake up on that day) the question might be: Why was that garden? I hope the mirror gleams at me on my walk back to the bed. I hope when our eyes meet it’ll ask: How did your flowers flee?

dear Tweedle,

still continuing the magnetic poetry series I started as your birthday present last year. Here’s to another year, to our right index fingers, to our magic & parallels. They’re forking us over at the quarter-century mark, but may our grown-up costumes never extinguish the feistgeist in us both.

1. The reasons. 

To say I went purely because I support free and fair elections would be a lie. I’m of the opinion that if you already [...]]]>

for Mat Hominems and the pre-Bersih noise pot, read Part 1 here: To Go Or Not To Go

1. The reasons. 

To say I went purely because I support free and fair elections would be a lie. I’m of the opinion that if you already support free and fair elections and electoral reform, going to a Bersih gathering doesn’t make you any more of a supporter than if you didn’t go. And last year, I followed the rally from home. This year I didn’t. Here are a few reasons for this change— why I wanted to go to the city this year:

• This year marks my first as a voting citizen, in an infested and haunted electoral system. I want my vote to count (who doesn’t?) and before elections itself, this seemed the giddiest, most age-appropriate, costume-filled event to be a part of. The authorities were so kind as to shut down everything they could so that we could be seen. It turns out there were tons of first-time voters there who felt the same. I even met non-voters as young as 19 who came all the way from Johor Bahru.
• It happened to be damn good exercise. I don’t usually make a habit of walking around in the city. I wanted to walk and sit in places I normally wouldn’t, in a city that I usually see and experience in very same ways. True enough, I found myself in alleys and streets I would never normally feel safe in. I even walked from St John Cathedral all the way to KLCC— an idea I would honestly never entertain on a regular KL day. The best part was that there were always good people with me.
• The worrying trend of thugs and gangster attacks on the #occupydataran and mahasiswa movements in Dataran. I had a feeling that similar hostility would take place within the crowd (even more so because there was little to no clampdown on the sale of yellow Bersih t-shirts this year). So it mattered to me to contribute to the peaceful large turnout that would reduce these Bersih-dressed / Bersih-identified instigators to a tiny minority.
• If last year’s level of ridiculous hostility were to happen again to the rakyat in this democracy, I wanted to gain the perspective of what it would be like in person as opposed to being horrified about it far away. Recollecting everyone’s stories from last year, from dinner conversations and those shared online made me think; if this happens to them again, I want to be there.

11:55am: playing with big yellow ball

2. I came to this last conclusion.

I couldn’t think of a single other national event capable of attracting a larger and more diverse demographic of people from all walks of life. I’m talking about people who were willing to travel from all around, unpaid(!), early(!!), despite being fully aware of the risks they had coming. Up to that point, they had even stubbornly reasoned past the slippery slope arguments of why going would be a bad idea. This wasn’t some music festival or Ramadan bazaar type of large turnout. There was no sense of courtesy imposed with cover charges. However, in a sea of strangers covering the streets, I never felt safer and more appreciative of the city. I think it was because we all had a collective sense of respect for the people around us for making the same choice we did: will go to rally. If I could have readily experienced that kind of mass empathetic affection any day in Kuala Lumpur from such a diverse community, I wouldn’t have felt the curiousity to show up. If I knew I could have gone to another event to restore my faith in Malaysian humanity beyond tourism ads, sure I could live with staying at home and supporting Bersih from afar again. But the last time such an opportunity existed, it was (you guessed it) last year’s Bersih. It was a crowd shockingly larger than most of us imagined— everyone knew there still wasn’t anywhere else we’d rather be. And I think everyone loved each other more for it.

2:15pm: slow, steady, happy

2:15pm: recycling a yellow pirate flag

3. Chaos and context.

Think for a moment how stunning it is that a crowd of possibly 80 to 100 thousand* gathered together with such goodwill and camaraderie. Try to imagine a gathering of unpaid people that large anywhere in the world, that despite being scattered, sprayed, and shaken would result in little more OTHER than an overturned car, and some random rowdies breaking past the barricades to the field we were denied a peaceful picnic in. I’m not counting the police-related violence though. Anyway, more damage is probably done whenever Kelantan loses a football match.

It comes as no surprise to many that the media appear determined to milk the chaos carried out by a fraction of a fraction (KL’s gathering) of a fraction (Malaysia’s gathering) of a global event for all its worth, and sure enough that famous car covered the front page of Sunday’s Star the next day. (I didn’t check the other papers, but that car moment is now the Godzilla of Bersih).

28/04: Jalan Tunku Abdul Rahman. picture: shukri affandi

28/04: the view from both sides of the Masjid Jamek LRT station. From Jalan Raja Laut to Tun Perak. picture: dhamamfoto

4. Free to come, but free to go?

In most of our bags were items to help each other out. Before noon, a boy dropped to his knees and rustled through his backpack to hand a few of us handfuls of thin face masks. By 3pm, we found ourselves pinned to a building wall, facing a packed and panicking crowd of a rally that had ended yet were teargassed as they were trying to disperse. We decided to hold up those extra masks and give them out while telling everyone not to push when running away. It was difficult for us to leave; stations were closed and it felt like we were gassed almost every road we turned. People were taking a deep jump into the river-longkang sidewalk, hiding in alleys, begging buildings to let us in, angrily banging on the train doors while security  stood behind the shutters refusing to open Masjid Jamek LRT to us. Police even banged on shop shutters that were sheltering protestors, ordering them to go back out to the streets. It was like they wanted us to leave, but didn’t want us to leave— not till there was some frustration and chaos to document. It became automatic for strangers to stop and offer us salt and water, all the time asking if we were alright. So we did the same for others. I lost a few of my friends because they stopped to help carry ladies who were stuck and pinned. The faucet in St John’s Cathedral’s grounds drew flocks of people to wash their faces. While taking refuge in the cathedral grounds, some asked us where we were from, and where my respirator was from (Ace Hardware, RM20). Even Aunty Bersih was handing out little cubes of cheese from a small tupperware she had on her.  None of the policemen I saw had any ID numbers on their uniforms.

5. Someone asked me on Facebook chat later at night if I went. 

I said yes. He didn’t go, but he promptly launched into his Bersih day recap from what he called “[his] far away perspective”, mentioning in the middle that “It looked like one big chess match of deception. All of you present were the pawns.” I only said in return, “it sounds like you got it all out sorted for yourself, though I’d like to disagree being labelled a pawn.”

He added, “You are a patriot, like everyone present. We all want change. But that’s what you were, pawn pieces used to make the other side look like monsters. Both sides were going for the same end game result: make each other look like monsters.”

To which I wrote back, “Of course both sides are going to make each other look like monsters, they already do that anyway. People are pawns every day. The ones who showed up today knew what they were doing, even the ones with bad intent. And the ones who were there knew which ones had bad intent on either side.”

I told him there were thousands and thousands of people there who wouldn’t have appreciated him calling them pawns. There were also people there who really were pawns. Eitherways, they were in a public space they chose to be. Politicians are bound to spin it however they want later, regardless of what these people do. Well let’s hope their spin talk won’t go unchallenged. I told him what he observed online today were people who were long stifled and tired of being lumped under what they call ‘rakyat’ without knowing who this trophy ‘rakyat’ was, and what their stories were. To have stayed quiet and stagnant another day longer would just as likely made them pawns as if they had shown up. But at least they walked out and took charge of their own presence. At least if their stories were to be packaged to the world by newspaper speak, they were thousands of witnesses to their stories and they know what they saw. More and more accounts of the day are going to pop up from the 99%. More and more media created by ourselves, triggering more and more conversations over breakfast, lunch and dinner. And with enough of these, we’ll know what all of our stories mean.

6. To end, here is my Facebook status at the end of the day.

It is by no means my ‘account’ of Bersih— I’m bad with time, and precision of details, and others will do that better than me. This is really just a recap of my day written on the edge of falling sleep.

Woke up early in Setiawangsa, had amazing homemade apple pancakes Nine & Kaz whipped up, took the train smoothly to Pasar Seni, a few hours of playing with a big yellow ball & general carnival camaraderie, an amazing walk with singing and smiles, got gassed without warning, forced into alleys and a decision whether to jump into the river-longkang sidewalk, climb a pipe across the river, or go back to the street (chose option 3). Got gassed another 2-3 times on each ends of the road because it became impossible for any of us to leave. Lost everyone. Found everyone.

Eventually took refuge in St John’s Cathedral till 4:30pm, walked all the way to KLCC, took a train back to Setiawangsa, showered & put some face on, Faiq wore a black baju Melayu with sampin + songkok, I wore my black-white baju raya, and we proceeded to eat the crap out of his cousin’s kenduri wedding dinner. Sore legs under the table and smiles on top. Smiles the whole day. The govt may view us like criminals, the police may treat us like criminals. But I soaked in the sweat & love of more people today than I might ever be around again, all so different yet undoubtedly love the country & each other. It’s impossible to regret taking that opportunity.

I will never demand anyone explain/defend why they didn’t go, there’s no instinct in me to judge that sort of thing; the kilometers of people that came today— already so much more than last year— were caring & positive enough for my first ever time of putting my nervous body through democracy. It would have been nice to meet them all for two hours picnicking happily on the field where we had our independence. Violence would have been non-existent if they had just recognized our rights. But the problem was created & the police listened to those who wanted it to stay a problem. The thousands and thousands of folks serving kindness today overwhelmingly reminded me the Malaysian community I’ve always dreamed of DOES exist. For a few hours today I not only witnessed it, I was in it. I sang Negaraku with them while they sprayed chemical weapons at us like we were cockroaches. If I had to list my gratitude for what strangers did for each other today, I’d be writing till tomorrow. I think I might have made it into others’ lists too. The newspapers are going to hate on us for awhile especially because of the handful that took it too far towards the end.

But from what I saw, not a single one of us deserved to be forced into tears today.

2:35pm: where I sat

7. Addendum: Hastily-put together paraphrase of Bersih as I understand it, sent to a friend who lives in Bangkok and so completely lacked context:

Bersih 3.0: third chapter of an annual sit-down protest rally that identifies as non-partisan for free and fair elections (that alarming evidence shows we don’t have) but ends up looking pretty partisan because none of the ruling govt parties will participate (after all, they’ve been repeatedly elected since independence anyway, and insist this is due to free & fair elections). the election commission are run by members of a ruling party UMNO but claim they don’t remember joining said party. the rally organizers expected a big crowd this year thought the best location would be Dataran Merdeka where we gained independence in 1957. Town Hall got in on the action and said 2 hour rally bad, rally mess with traffic. then locked up the square for 48 hours and killed traffic. since the field had no doors, they used barbed wire. It’s strange because Bersih’s rally last year was massively cracked down & violent, leading to pressure on the govt ever since to deal with the basic democracy issue of public gathering in public spaces.

*Judging from past years, Bersih’s own estimate number is usually too large (250,000 – 300,000 this year) and police’s estimate is usually too small (25,000 this year, really?).

8. More clicks

• [VIDEO] Najib on Bersih: “Henti tipu rakyat, cetus huru hara”
  Note: Finally Najib says something about Bersih. Well it’s more of a list of what Najib / “kita” (we) was kind and “sanggup” (willing) enough to “beri” (give) to those who dared “tunjuk perasaan” (show emotion). I like the use of “kita” because it confirms what was implied all along:  DBKL + Polis + Hisham wasn’t a “kita” without our dear PM Najib.
• Bersih: The Perfect Assembly, Almost (Marcus van Gayzel)
• Update: Malaysian Protestors Met With Violence (Al-Jazeera)
• Ini adalah Bersih 3 – Pengalaman Saya (Amenoworld)
• Konspirasi Serangan Dataran Merdeka Terdedah (Amenoworld)
• Best click to read after the Amenoworld link: Benji Lim expresses disappointment to Anwar at press conference (Agenda News)
• I fear for my country (Michelle Chan)
• Letter From A Bersih Badass To Her Dad (Junewow)
• Yes Prime Minister, we need answers! (Hsu Dar Ren)
• Bersih 3.0, My Experience (Patrick Teoh / Niamah!!!)
• The missing voice after Bersih 3.0 (Zara Kahan)
• Bersih 3.0 & I (Benjaminfoo.com)
• In defence of storming the barricades at Dataran (Abd Rahman Koya)
• [VIDEO] Police (PDRM)’s official video of Bersih 3.0
• [VIDEO] Dewan Pemuda PAS’s official video of Bersih 3.0 — viewer discretion: ridiculous police brutality in this one
• [VIDEO] My view of Bersih 3.0 (Ineza Roussille) and [TEXT] post here
• Bersih 428: A personal perspective (Goh Chee Leong)
• My Bersih 3.0 Experience (Anabelle R.)
• The Real Bersih 3.0 (Gomen Man)
• Why I had to be there on 28.4.2012 (Daniel S. Abishegam)
• Bersih 3.0 My side of the story (Adam Tan)
• The Day I Lost RespectFor The Government (Pepper Lim)
• The Predictability Of Politics, and How We Rise And Fall (Farish Noor)
• What I think (Jahabar Sadiq)
• [AUDIO] Malaysian response to police excessive, says Aussie senator (Radio Australia)
• BBC Signals Outrage Over Malaysian Censorship of Bersih 3.0 Coverage (SarawakReport)
• Whom To Blame For The Storming Of The Barricades At Bersih 3.0 (Andrew Zhu An Loh)
  Note: a great and simple analysis of the faults of the day, possibly my favourite yet
• Uncle Saw drops biting & witty rhymes at Bersih, is christened Sasterawan Bersih 3.0
• Today, we found courage (Azrul Khalib, who also experienced Pulapol)
• Hidup Rakyat: Bersih 3.0 In KL (Nine / Abyssinia, Henry)

• Perth (Soon Yee Yap)
• [VIDEO] Melbourne (MeldMagazine)
• Bersih Sabah: Kenapa Aku Duduk Bantah (LadyMariah)
• Bersih 3.0 slideshow from around the world (compiled by taeb87) (22 locations so far)
• General Housekeeping: Bersih Sabah (Nadira Ilana / feistgeist)

EH BY THE WAY AH, I STILL WANT ELECTORAL REFORM. Bersih has GOT to persevere into the 4.0 and 5.0 and 6.0s until all eight demands are achieved. Even if PR (People’s Alliance) were to incredibly succeed over the dirtiest electoral system yet and find themselves elected into Putrajaya, Bersih STILL needs to continue. In this hypothetical reversed situation, I think BN (National Front)’s reaction to Bersih will be especially interesting to observe as the new opposition, considering how they have treated Bersih while they were government. The rakyat’s reactions will be interesting too. But no matter who backs or hijacks Bersih, it needs to go on until the Election Commission gets their act together and treat our votes right in this tear-gas haze of a democracy.

I’m 1) happy in bed with (R-L):  2) my mother’s spaghetti in a tupperware 3) a favourite cult T-shirt 4) my first zit in months, assignment stress I guess but I will not photoshop myself for it 5) the first book I’m reading now that my finals are over and 6) my ugly cat Pervert, [...]]]>

I’m 1) happy in bed with (R-L):  2) my mother’s spaghetti in a tupperware 3) a favourite cult T-shirt 4) my first zit in months, assignment stress I guess but I will not photoshop myself for it 5) the first book I’m reading now that my finals are over and 6) my ugly cat Pervert, as ever by my side. I’ve got all of next week off— hopefully I’ll get around to 1) cleaning room 2) catching up on sleep, and 3) finishing and posting up the drafts I’ve got saved behind the curtains here already believe it or not— but for now, I’ve refreshed the jukebox to the left (to the left), this weekend can bring it, and happy TGIF bitches! Hope you have a good one too. Bak kata thecoolhunter, promote what you love instead of bashing what you hate!

+ so, you like that shirt? I’m wearing an S.
+ so, that book look interesting? I thought so too. I owe Sharaad for that recommendation.
+ so, you want my mother to feed you too?
+ so, this all feel like déjà vu?

Not sure what’s with the top and tail of the video there, but this is a clip from the documentary Echo of The Elephants. Echo’s herd walks around and rediscovers elephant bones of someone close to Echo. Elephants have amazing memories, recognition, and the ability to weep. This already make [...]]]>

Not sure what’s with the top and tail of the video there, but this is a clip from the documentary Echo of The Elephants. Echo’s herd walks around and rediscovers elephant bones of someone close to Echo. Elephants have amazing memories, recognition, and the ability to weep. This already make them far more superior than yours truly. But to top it off, they recognize the bones of elephants, even which elephant those bones belonged to.

It makes me think about how we as people are taught to value what is external. Human bones are simply bones, revealed with sudden music on crime shows. We bite into drumsticks but I don’t know if we could ever hold the bones of someone we love, years later, hold, play, recognize them, and remember. I suppose to do so— to touch someone like that— would be seen as rude and disrespectful.

When we gloat about how we are the brightest species out there and list what sets us apart from animals, some element of emotional capability tries to make its way on that list. All I really get out of it is that humans are capable of arrogance. Humans can brag that their love for someone is big, sincere, uncomplicated and enduring. What are our motivations to offer our love to someone? Why are we drawn to a person? We talk ourselves into new reasons and paths to love all the time. We begin at the external and never stop moving inwards (if we’re lucky). Our admiration peaks and when it withers and there is nothing left— of that person, of our connection— we’re told to move on.

Elephants may not be able to say the same, but I think they really can’t escape feeling it— grief and respect out of uncomplicated love and long memories, not for just one ‘special’ person, but their whole freaking community. What is their motivation? I suppose it’s survival. How simple and how clear. If we were elephants, we’d be the biggest creatures on the land. We were born small and loved each other then, even if only to survive. But when we’re older, we’d love to the bone. This is part of being that beast.

How heartbreaking it must be when you are ‘first on the scene’ of death of a loved one. If you had to make that split decision between staying by their side and the need to inform others— which would you choose? That’s what it is about this elephant for me… she couldn’t choose just one. Either she couldn’t bear it, or it was just how she was ‘wired’. Eitherway I am a little human who would be grateful for even a fraction of her strength.

Our distinguishing feature, as humans, is the muddy grey space in between, filled with our attempts at living as a rational species, and the arrogance of calling it some privilege our souls qualify for above all other creatures. Days like today my mind finds itself wandering to elephants, writing about them randomly in this entry, wishing that they weren’t driven to extinction, that there would be enough room for them and us. I’ve love to meet one someday, I want them to know I’m trying. In turn, maybe the magic of their memory could be something I rub over the ups and downs of my twenty five years. Their emotional capacity could someday inhabit a human heart like mine.

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