Scary Khairy

Today, I am one Scairy Son-in-Law.

Yes, I’m Khairy, the scairy son-in-law. Of that not-so-effective PM of Malaysia.

Why am I to be feared? Well, I’m young, smart and ambitious. And very impatient. To grab ultimate power in Malaysia so that I can make it a truly bumipurtra-only country.

Here’s how I’ll achieve my grand plan. I’ve instigated the bitter rift between the ex- and present PMs of the country. I showed the greatest disrespect for ex-PM Mahathir by usurping his elder statesman’s role. When I proved to my father-in-law, the current PM Badawi, that Mahathir’s past policies had been mostly hare-brain schemes, and that my proposals for an exclusive Malaysia were far superior and practical, the present cut out the ex from the loop. With an ego as big any white elephant he ever built, Mahathir has fallen into my trap set to expose his inadequacy. Just look at him now ranting and raving mad at his anointed one.

As for my father-in-law, well, you know he’s no intellectual. He’s not even very knowledgeable about the brave new world we are in. The number of times he’s listened to and accepted my views…. that’s how ignorant, gullible and pliable he is.

Badawi may be the “supreme” leader of Malaysia, but I am the power behind the throne. When he took over the premiership promising to be open and fair in extending government contracts, I convinced him that in helping the bumis first and only, the Chinese, with only a controlled share of the economy, would never be in a position to demand a greater share of the political pie. Witness the bumiputras getting fatter with all the major development projects, and the Chinese and Indians scrambling for the crumbs.

I stand to gain most from all this, of course.

The showdown between the ex and the current will escalate (manipulated by me again) to a stage where both will lose all clout and respect in the ruling party. UMNO will be split and then be forced to throw out the quarrelsome seniors to make way for the next generation of leaders. Consider my pedigree: Oxbridge background; my faith in and loyalty to the PM (I’ll keep up the appearances); upfront champion of bumi rights; and success in business. Can my time be far off?

Meanwhile, my corporate wheeling-and-dealing is coming along dandily; with my affiliations getting me more connections, I’ll be successful just by making the right telephone calls. Therefore, when I make it to the political top job, I’ll be a billionaire to boot.

But don’t get me wrong. I’m not stupid. I’m not about to ask my father-in-law to let me turn around MAS (Malaysian Airline System) so as to prove my business acumen. That will be the day if I let myself to be benchmarked against SIA (Singapore Airlines). I don’t give a shit how well managed and profitable that airline is. No way will I be compared to Singapore. As for MAS, it can fly nowhere as far as I am concerned if my name does not crash with it.

In spite of my prejudice against the Chinese, I’m mindful that I’m married to my wife who is at least half Chinese-Japanese. Her mother was of Japanese origin and her father has Chinese blood. I’m not a racist, really. Why, I have many non-Malay friends and associates. When I was in Britain, I hobnobbed with everybody and had a fabulously good western life. I’m as pragmatic as any of my Chinese “compatriots” in Malaysia.

However, I wouldn’t go all the way just to curry anybody’s favour. But having a pint or two in a London pub wouldn’t be any peel off my Islamic veneer. I didn’t wear the songkok at Oxford; I wear it to official functions here in Malaysia because I have to look the part, don’t I?

I walk the talk, just like my leadership of the demonstration against US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rise in protest against Israel’s invasion of Lebanon. It was a great occasion for me to build up my image in the eyes of the Islamic world. Don’t for a minute think that I care much about the plight of the Lebanese and Palestinians. All that brotherhood stuff! I don’t even care for my closest neighbours: the Chinese and Indian Malaysians.

I have more immediate concerns of my own, in my personal life for example. I’m married to the daughter of the PM and she’s the perfect wife that any man could ask for. But for a Muslim man, having one wife is only half the blessing. If he has the means to support another woman (a widow or unmarried) who is in dire financial and emotional need, it is indeed a duty and an honour for him to marry her. About that “vampire” actress I was supposed to have married, there’s not a shred of truth to it, believe me. But I will not say whether or not I’ve had a relationship with her. I don’t see it as an issue and I dare anybody to furnish proof that there has been khalwat between us.

I wish though that that other most desirable female Malay celebrity had not married the old geezer. Picture me, the most promising young Malay male, married to the most beautiful and talented young Malay female. That parade on the white horse would have been nothing compared to the wedding of the century in Malaysia if we were to wed. We would have been the platinum couple for time immemorial. Poor Nuraliza, your prince charming is more Prince Charles. Pity me also, I could have had it all: the premiership, riches, and a trophy queen.

Oh well, you can’t win them all. And to show that I’m into zero sum politics, I’m going to be magnanimous by letting Mahathir win part of his battle with Badawi. You see, when (not if) I become PM, I will build that (half) bridge, not so much to please Mahathir or spite Badawi, but to cock a big snook at my real enemy – Singapore.

As for my father-in-law, I’ll let him find peace and happiness in taking care of my children. In the background.

Yes, I’m Khary, the scary one.

Koizumi

Today, I am Koizumi @ Yasukuni.

I chose to pay my respects to the dead at Yasukuni five days ago on August 15 for a very good reason. Going there on any other day would have been like celebrating New Year on June 1, the Emperor’s Birthday on April 23, or Respect-for-the-Aged Day on November 18. August 15 was the symbolic end of WWII; but, more importantly, it marked the beginning of the new Japan. And that’s what I went to Yasukuni to commemorate.

I have no relatives who fought in the war (or care about any who did), and I know no one (of importance to me) who died during the war. I was born after it had ended. It makes no difference that millions of Japanese died for the motherland occupying those faraway countries, which should have been left to flounder in their primitiveness, anyway. I just can’t see what glory there was in occupying and dying in that semi-barbaric middle kingdom. I see less reason to feel sorry for our soldiers trying to civilize those upstart Koreans. In my view, the only salvation in conquering those lands was that we got to spread Japanese genes to the comfort women, and those not so comfortable with our troops. We were short of women in Japan so seizing weak neighbouring territories for sexual conquest is no more regrettable than past European colonialism.

Yasukuni, hence, symbolizes Japanese superiority in the world. The whole of Japan stands up with me in rejoicing the rise and rise of the Sun over the Land. Those Japanese who oppose my visit to Yasukuni are ignorant of their own country’s status. Foreigners who criticize my annual pilgrimage are jealous and resentful of the fact that my country is far more advanced a society than theirs could ever be.

So you see, I am not the respectful and pious man that I’ve been made out to be. In fact, I’ve never visited the graves of my forefathers. The dead are departed, not so dearly; those who will die, goodbye. The only person, dead or living that I truly worship is Elvis Presley. Now, if there is a God, it is ELVIS.

I was at Elvisukuni earlier this year, and boy was I convinced HE is our salvation.

This is how it all happened “One Night”.

I prayed to HIM to “Love Me Tender” ‘cos I was “In The Ghetto” with a “Hard Headed Woman” who wouldn’t “Surrender” to my “Burning Love”. Contemplating the worse in the “ Heartbreak Hotel” with no one asking me “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” or telling me “Can’t Help Falling In Love” with you and “Loving You” “Too Much”, it was like “A Big Hunk O’ Love” turning into a “Wooden Heart”. I was “All Shook Up” and would even “Surrender” to the “Devil In Disguise” just that I wouldn’t have to go “Crying In The Chapel” again.

ELVIS, I’ve loved you since you showed your divine self in “Jailhouse Rock” with that blessed “Hound Dog”. I’m “Stuck On You” ‘cos you’re “My Good Luck Charm”. “My Wish Came True” with “The Wonder Of You”. You told her “Don’t Be Cruel”, but to accept this “Teddy Bear” “Loving You”. So scratch out the “Return To Sender” on the envelope and rid yourself of “Suspicious Minds”; instead, go “Way Down” and “Wild In The Country” – “That’s Where Your Heartaches Begin” to melt away as you, “Marie, His Latest Flame,” will swear: “I Love You Because” “It’s Now Or Never” to join together as one with ME.

“Viva” my “King Creole”!

However, “Now And Then There’s A Fool Such As I.”

A Singapore Secondary Student

Today, I am a Singapore secondary school student.

Much has been said about what’s wrong with the teaching of English in Singapore schools. The Ministry of Education has its English Language Review committee working on a new “improved” curriculum. Teachers have given their input on how to better the learning of the language in the classroom. Straits Times feature writers and readers have expressed their concerns about the state of the language art. You would think that the ground has been adequately covered.

But have they asked us – the students who are struggling with it?

Well, let me tell you what I think of this whole debacle.

The first problem is classroom size. A class of forty students is an impossible environment to teach or learn English. If the aim of the lesson is linguistic stimulation, how much opportunity does each of the forty students have to communicate with the teacher and with other students? A large class often means teacher alone talking and talking alone. Students are left to tune to something else. You can hire any number of “native-speaking” teachers, but they’ll soon lose interest in teaching massive classes of unresponsive students. The students are by no means quiet the entire lesson, but much of the noise made is of the disruptive type and in other languages. If a teacher has to spend time in class to handle discipline, even the most dedicated of teachers get disheartened fast enough. I’m attending CDAC night tuition in a class of only seven students. We get individual attention from the tutor and can speak up at every turn. If the regular classroom is reduced to twenty students, there’ll be ample chances for students to speak, if not better, at least more, English.

Another major challenge is the materials used to teach the language. Many of the English textbooks for the lower sec classes are locally written. They are anything but exciting. Sticking to one format, the bland texts are followed by comprehension questions that bore and kill our zeal in the language. Often, the passages are written for the purpose of a comprehension exercise. It is not natural English; in fact, some of the writing is downright bad. The vocabulary can sometimes be ridiculously hilarious: I had to search for a word in one passage to replace “things for eating”. If “food” is what I was supposed to look for, then can you blame me for feeling fooled instead? And when you get to Sec 3 and 4, just about the only stuff we do is the 10-year series. After exhausting these past exam papers, we do our school’s own past papers; we then exchange with other schools and do each other’s mocks. We end up getting quite a charge not out of enjoying the language, but of rejecting the English lesson with its practice papers, practice papers and more practice papers?

And the testing itself? The comprehension questions are sometimes phrased in such convoluted language that it serves to confuse rather than instruct. Many a text writer would benefit with some training in how to write precisely and concisely. This is the bunch that has not caught up with the trend of writing clear and direct language. Much vocabulary is thrown in for the sake of providing questionable exercises. The summary is no more than another comprehension question, requiring us to list items from the text. If the teachers think that we are not capable of doing précis, then don’t kid us with summary writing when we are doing merely comprehension. Now about the essay. Almost 99% of the students do either the narrative or the descriptive. After I leave secondary school, I’m willing to bet that no more than 1% of the time will I be asked to write a story or describe my town. So, what’s the point of being tested for this skill? Even in literature lessons, after every chapter there’s a worksheet to fill out. Where is the fun and appreciation promised us in reading “Animal Farm” or about Shylock? Ask Minister of State for Education, Lui Tuck Yew, to show us how to get the “emotional literacy” of literature for “richer relationships”. So, if I am learning a language just to be tested on, then no thank you.

The teachers are another bucket of fish. Little interested in engaging students, they do lockstep teaching and seldom accept alternative views. “Do as you are taught and told, and you will get a good grade. I need you all to do well so that I’ll seem competent enough for promotion.” Most teachers care more about their careers than their profession. Let’s face it, to be an English teacher in Singapore requires a will of steel and certain masochism, what with the tons of marking to do after school and on weekends, and only more money can compensate for this no-life job. The real trouble is that some get promoted for other than their knowledge or teaching abilities. I’ve known principals, vice-principals and subject heads who do not have acceptable language skills. How can one get chosen to set the example of Standard English when they themselves do not speak it? Pay attention to your principal talking at the next assembly and you’ll know what I mean. I’m almost certain The National Institute of Education (NIE) has a few lecturers who have been failed teachers. Remember the saying: “Those who can do, those who can’t teach, and those who can’t teach teach teachers”

The powers that be will surely tell me and the multitudes of students that if we have no suggestions to improve things, then our criticisms are invalid. Well, let them tweak this and fine-tune that and we’ll see if they come up with a hit. Meanwhile, we sing our own songs. Listen if that makes any difference to you.

Mahathir

Today, my chosen persona is Mahathir.

There have been reports recently of at least two sportsmen who failed doping tests after winning a competition. They were found to have too high testosterone in their system. There was no mistake in the lab results. It’s just one great big misinterpretation. You see, there are guys out there with extremely macho constitutions and they naturally produce more of the male hormone than the average male. So let’s stand up you (Floyd Landis) and I and all the other extra-macho men to repudiate these tests. We must fight for our rights to be what we are and to perform as aggressively and victoriously as our genes demand of us.

If some of my detractors have privately believed that my recent trip to Europe was to get another fix, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m a natural; I fight and win on my own heat. I may not be as horny as I was before my withdrawal from political intercourse but I can be as thorny with anyone who tries to thwart my shove. So, look out Badawi now that you’ve ruined my dream bridge. I don’t care about the legal or political implications of going ahead with its construction; I care less if the bridge would have been crooked, and gone only half way or nowhere at all. You’ve made me lose to Singapore and any self-respecting Malaysian (read Malay) ought to hang himself for that. My real fix will come when I fix those uppity Singaporeans.

In a Straits Times article today, I was referred to as “an obstreperous and cantankerous andropausal” former prime minister. I’m wondering if the writer is actually referring to another ex-PM. Sure I make a lot of noise and persistently too, but haven’t I already proved that I am a “men-no-pause” kind of guy? Anyway, the more that government-controlled newspaper tries to discredit me, the more they will be tarnishing their own. Here’s a piece of neighbourly advice: never retire, never let go. And when that becomes unavoidable, build a dynasty. I should have listened to my own advice and not left my legacy to other than you own sons. Badawi is not lucky enough to have a clever son, but he’s smart enough to anoint an ambitious son-in-law. I may not be PM of Malaysia again but damn it if I am going to move from the scene before I get to sing.

Another problem I now realize I had was the absolute control of the media. What you over control will end up controlling you. Remember, parents? Your terrorized (by you) children will invariably rebel, or have already rebelled, against your tyranny. The media, more wayward than the worst of children, will cry no tears at your downfall or passing. So if you are planning to censor the local or foreign press, this website or that podcast, or my blog – all your past “glories” will just as easily be blocked out. My fight now is for free and independent media, including, no especially, Malaysiakini.com. I’m sorry I treated you in the past with such a heavy hand.

That’s one apology too much for me. You’ll hear from me again, but it won’t be about regret for any past action. Not to Annuar, not to Badawi, not to Malaysia, and definitely not to Singapore.

PM of Malaysia

Aug 1, 2006

Today, I want to be Prime Minister of Malaysia: Abdullah Badawi.

A few days ago, I came up with an ambitious plan to make Johor Baru, the boomtown just across the Johor Strait from Singapore, the new Hong Kong. It’ll cost billions of ringgit but that’s only a small consideration if Johor Baru could truly become a competitor to its greater neighbor to the south. In any case, most of the developmental works will go to my favored contractors, the “indigenous” people. It hastens up on the projects as no cumbersome tenders, hence no competition, are required. No matter how inefficient they may turn out to be, the contractors will source all materials locally and hire many workers. Everyone will benefit from the infrastructure expenditure because of its multiplier effect on the economy. Johor Baru, I may soon have to change your name to Hong Baru.

That’s all for public consumption, of course. I know deep down that JB (the shortened name for Johor Baru) could never be a HK (also a shortened name, though more universally recognizable). Building physical assets is one thing and is easily achievable given the time and resources that Malaysia has in abundance. It is not as easy to tweak the culture and ethic of the people to ensure that those who build-and-operate these projects will do so in the best of practices. If you have passed through JB immigration recently, you’ll know what I mean. At best, the process is efficient; but often the service is unfriendly and sometimes outright arrogant and hostile. You won’t get that kind of welcome when first arriving in HK. But then how would the locals ever know the difference since 99.99% of the “indigenous” people would never have been to HK to appreciate what a different world that city is compared to JB, now and what it could ever be. Then again, in their ignorance they will swallow it with greater delusion of their own capabilities.

I sincerely believe that the “indigenous” people are naturally friendly and caring. But I do have to admit that that affection is directed only at our own kind. People less “indigenous” are not deserving of this treatment. Besides, the “immigrants” do not have the right religion, so how can they ever hope to receive the blessing? Selective behavior of, by and for the select group, that’s the way to go. And if that select group is in the majority, can you get anymore democratic! I’m sure to get Bush’s support on that score. Should he ever be persuaded to come for a visit, we’ll make an exception of his “aberrant” background to show him amble affirmation of Malaysia’s hospitality.

This is going to endear me no end to my ex-sponsor, who was tragically pepper-sprayed lately. I’m not sure how and why it happened, but I do know I have to upend him in the mega-projects arena to get back into his good graces. He’ll be pleased to know that I’m planning hard for ever larger programs to upgrade our “indigenous” lot.