Abducted in an Ambulance

Have you ever been abducted in an ambulance? 

I have. 

This happened just last Thursday.

Ever since I had my very first body checkup in 2017 (thanks to some discount vouchers on Munchy biscuits' packaging), my blood readings have always been erratic. Other readings were fine but my haemoglobin, blood count, MCV, PCV, MPV, SUV, ABCDE (for the lack of knowledge on the right acronyms) and all that always proved to be a problem. And this has consistently been the case for all subsequent tests. Yet, I felt fine. Or so I thought.

Then COVID came, and everything was put on hold. I stopped thinking about any medical check-up. There were just too many other more pressing things to follow up in life. After all, I felt fine. Or so I thought.

A few weeks ago, a doctor remarked that I looked very pale and asked me to do a blood test. I figured it could be time to finally undergo a checkup since the last one was back in 2019. Sure enough, when the results came back, my haemoglobin was low - a mere 6.5. 

Oh, of course I didn't know what was considered low, but the doctor had immediately issued a referral letter and asked me to get admitted into a hospital to undergo a blood transfusion. I thought she was exaggerating, so I kept the letter untouched for another two weeks. Well, I didn't experience any breathlessness, palpitations, dizziness, brain fog, or any of those things which supposedly accompanied severe anemia. As I said, I felt fine. Or so I thought. 

Yet I had to admit, that somewhere at the back of my mind, I was a bit concerned. Maybe I should not take this too lightly. My church pastor has been bugging me to go for a check-up for ages because having gone through a bad round of anemia herself, she recognised the same symptoms that I was displaying. She had wanted to spare me from going through her experience. 

But the very thought of a blood transfusion TERRIFIED me.... I am not even used to sharing food/drinks with other people's saliva, so you can imagine how traumatising it is for me to imagine having some unknown stranger's blood running through my veins. 

This beautiful artwork from Katie Underkoffler clearly illustrates what I felt on the receiving end... 

As I mulled over other options besides transfusion, I tried asking random friends and everyone around me how to boost the reading for my haemoglobin quickly. I knew I needed to see the doctor again or go to the hospital etc., and I urgently needed my readings to be up and running by then so that I can evade the most dreadful thing ... a blood transfusion. 

I tried some of their suggestions, from consuming liver and cockles to drinking red dates boiled in water but I doubted its speed and effectiveness... 

It was on a Wednesday morning when my former churchmate who is now a pastor elsewhere randomly texted me. Yes, we do keep in contact now and then, but that particular morning, when she said she was praying for me, I felt compelled to tell her about my concerns regarding my haemoglobin. Because her dad goes for regular blood transfusions, she asked if it was alright for her to consult a doctor she knows on my behalf. I thought, sure, why not? I mean, after all, I had been desperately searching for a friend or relative who is a doctor, who can advise me what to do. 

The answer I received after mentioning that my haemoglobin reading was a 6.5, was to go immediately to a hospital for a transfusion. It was too low, and nothing else could help besides a transfusion. 

My heart sank. 

That same afternoon, my brother planned to drop by the Klinik Kesihatan for his own medication and I requested that he squeeze in a question about my condition to see if there was any alternative to a transfusion. 

There wasn't. 

The doctor said it was too low. The only way was for a transfusion. 

And so, since I had some time to spare before my afternoon classes that following day, I decided to take a trip to the Klinik Kesihatan myself to negotiate for other alternatives to a blood transfusion. I had even managed to have a delicious lunch with my family before they dropped me off at the Klinik Kesihatan while they went grocery shopping. The plan was to swing over to pick me up after my consultation. 

But that was precisely when the horror began...

After showing the doctor my blood test reading (and the referral letter that had conveniently fallen out of the file), the doctor started scolding me and asked why I had waited for so long before going there. She then told me to pray really hard that the reading had gone up, because if not, she would send me straight to the hospital. 

My blood test result came back even worse on that day ... It had dropped further to a 6.0! What did one expect after a round of menses? 

The next thing I knew, she said, "Ikut saya!" 

She then brought me to a room where another medical officer again scolded me as he complained about my pale hand while sticking a needle into it. "How is it possible to not know that you are anemic?!! Look at your complexion." 

I answered sheepishly, "I thought I was just fair."

While waiting for the ambulance to Hospital Kajang, I was thinking to myself, "This is just so unreal. I am sure I will wake up from this horrid dream." At the same time, I was trying to come up with ways to NOT get onto the ambulance: 

a) I offered to go to HUKM instead. I said my brother would drive me there. 

b) I told them if not, I would still go to Kajang Hospital, as stated, but in my own vehicle. 

c) I asked if I could wait for my family members to arrive first. 

But all to no avail. 

I had been abducted!!! 

The next thing I knew, I found myself climbing into the ambulance with two other patients. They seemed weak and in a daze, as they held their own IV drip in their hand. As for me, I think I was just 100 percent confused. 

Wait a minute, is this what brain fog is all about?!! If it is, then I must be anemic, after all! 

Packed with a bag full of students' homework to mark and nothing else, I sat in the most dejected manner at the back seat of the ambulance, trying really hard to process the situation. 

"Please don't turn on the siren. Please don't turn on the siren. Please let me gather my thoughts peacefully. Please. Please. Please."

But the bloody defiant sirens went off full blast!

I didn't know how to break the news to my family members who assumed that they would be picking me up after their shopping trip. How do I tell them that I was in an ambulance, with the sirens, on the way to Kajang Hospital? Oh dear! 

The sirens were loud. The ride was bumpy. The view was not spectacular. The traffic was horrid. People from the other cars were staring into the ambulance. My heart was palpitating, I felt faint and breathless, my mind was foggy, etc. and suddenly ALL of the anemia symptoms started racing in at once. 

But I guess all these feelings were just temporal. It didn't take too long before I started to calm down, lean back in my chair, put on my sunglasses, and enjoy the ride. I mean, even if I was abducted, there wasn't anything left to do at that point, was there? 

When we arrived at the Hospital, I hopped off the ambulance in my most active manner. The staff weren't sure if I was a guardian who was merely accompanying another patient, or if I was the patient herself. That was, till they saw the tell-tale needle stuck on top of my hand. 

I spent 12 hours in the crowded emergency room that day. And despite pouring forth all my powers of negotiation, I still ended up with a 2-night stay, 1 pint of stranger's blood, a big pack of iron drip, and a whole lot of appointments to follow up. All these were first-time experiences for me.

If you asked me how I feel right now, I'll just say, "I feel fine." Or so I think. ;)

I would love to tell you more about the condition in the emergency room and the hospital ward, but let's just save that for another day, instead. All these writing is leaving this anemic patient feeling slightly fatigued. 

Have a great weekend! 

Voice Message, Video, or Text?

I was at my uncle's house for Chinese New Year visit when he started complaining about another relative who always does not pick up phone calls and somehow gives all sorts of excuses for not answering. The more he dwelt on that topic, the more agitated he became. My aunt, his wife, then chimed in with her easy peasy lemon squeezy solution: "Instead of getting all upset while waiting for that person to pick up your call, just scroll your phone and look for a picture greeting with the words Happy New Year 2023. Forward it over via WhatsApp. Gao tiem. (Done) Why get angry over such trivial matters?" 

I had to smile at my aunt's solution. She has always professed to be a non-confrontational person, anyway. But that incident reminds me that there are various preferences when it comes to communicating, and sometimes it is not so easy to accommodate to the other person's method. 

I, for one, have always leaned towards texting. I somehow find it less disruptive because the recipient can always check the text whenever he/she wants to (or not check it at all). Perhaps I think too much, but I always wonder if the person on the other end is either driving, in a meeting, in a class, in the toilet, in the kitchen, carrying tonnes of groceries, eating fried chicken with bare hands, or changing some kids' diapers etc. and would therefore find it inconvenient to answer the call at that particular moment. It makes more sense to give that person some time and space to read the message and reply under less stressful situations. Likewise, texting also benefits the sender i.e. it buys time to sort the ideas clearly and check one's message before sending.

What if the blue ticks are visible and there is still no reply after some time? Nasib, lar... (too bad!) But I do agree that it can be somewhat upsetting if you were expecting an immediate reply from the recipient. Imagine if you are outside picking up some groceries or trying to get a take-away, and you are eagerly anticipating for the other person's feedback. You would probably end up leaving that place before you actually get a reply. I am often guilty of this. My brother will text to ask if I need anything from a particular store and I will only reply once he has already left or is about to drive off. That is a surefire way to annoy him. 

Some people like my mom, though, have yet to learn how to text. This is a woman who opted for early retirement just as computers started to make their way into the office. To this day, I can teach her how to use the keyboard on the mobile for countless times, yet she will still get irritated and ditch the message altogether. Being old schooled, she is extremely particular over upper cases and punctuation marks, so she gets really upset when she cannot locate them on the keyboard. Furthermore, she is intimidated by her own misspelling of words. Seriously, if my students were half as concerned with their spelling as my mom is, I would have undoubtedly given them a higher grade. After struggling for a few minutes, she would start throwing tantrums like a 3-year-old and literally threaten to throw her mobile away, "Aiyahhhh, I really hate that stupid handphone! This is why I don't want a phone! Get rid of it!" Of course, whenever she gets into this mode, she forgets all those times when she enjoys listening to songs/watching videos that her friends share via WhatsApp. 

My dad, who cannot text at all because of his failing eyesight, confidently scrolls down his list of contacts and calls people at random. Unlike me, he does not care if the other person is at work, having their meals, about to go to bed etc. It is also due to his poor vision that he often ends up calling the wrong person instead and somehow ends up with an unintentional catch-up session. He optimistically thinks that it is a blessing in disguise, but I dare not say the same for the receiver of his random phone calls. 

It is only in recent months that I have started to utilize audio messages on WhatsApp. I realise that I actually speak in different dialects and different languages to different groups of people. If the person that I am trying to contact is more comfortable in Hakka or Cantonese, I will then have not much choice but to resort to voice recording. Well, there isn't much left for a total banana (Mandarin-illiterate) person to do, is there? I can't type a single Chinese character and my hanyin pinyin is terrible (if I even know how to use it). I do find the process quite challenging, however, because I feel extremely conscious of my voice and intonation (which often comes out inaccurate) but I have no choice because that is still the best form of communication with certain contacts. 

One major drawback of audio recording is that we cannot retrieve information easily. I try not to click on audio messages when in public for fear of having half the passengers on the train or in the lift hear the other person's 'private/personal' message. As a result, I sometimes leave voice messages unchecked until I am safely at home. Unfortunately, it is also often too late in the night to reply at that hour, which could result in me either forgetting the message entirely or only replying the following day. It is also quite difficult to check specific details from previous messages since everything is in the form of audio and one cannot read them. One would frantically scroll and listen to every audio message, just to look for that priceless piece of information. At the end of the day, I would still choose texting over audio messages anytime. 

If you find phone calls disruptive, video calls take the cake. Such calls are certainly, on a whole new level. I do understand that it is heartwarming to be able to see the person we are speaking to, especially if we have not seen that person for a long time or happen to be calling from a distance. It narrows the gap and makes communication easier. Thanks to video calls, lockdowns during the pandemic became slightly more bearable. 

Despite its advantages, TIMING is essential in any video call. Take one particular incident, for instance. My aunt in UK enjoys contacting us via video call. She will then persuade her adorable little granddaughter to talk to us and somehow, our video calls may end up in a battle where both sides keep showing off all sorts of food in our possession, with the aim of teasing each other and causing the other party to salivate. On one such occasion, my aunt started a video call just when my cousin was sitting on the 'throne' (the toilet, that is). Even though she had her phone with her, it was not the right time to pick it up because well, who wants to see another person in the toilet? But being in the toilet is not the only reason why some people may not pick up a video call immediately. I should think that the receiver may not feel confident picking up such calls if the surrounding is too noisy, or too dark, or even if he/she has not drawn any eyebrows/put on lipstick and thus not look presentable enough. 

So there you go, with so many forms of communication, we have become spoilt with choices. No matter which method we prefer, if it helps to convey the message clearly and enables us to maintain a close bond with each other, then the mobile phone is not so bad, after all. 

Finally, since we are at the last few days of Chinese New Year celebrations, do allow me to take the cue from my aunt, and share this picture greeting (which I have confidently stolen from the Internet):

HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR 2023, indeed! 

An Urgent Plea to the Young Voters

 "Hope" is the thing with feathers - 
That perches in the soul - 
And sings the tune without the words - 
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard
And sore must be the storm - 
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm - 

I've heard it in the chillest land - 
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

- Emily Dickinson

My very first formal encounter with English Literature took place in a Form Four classroom decades ago. Mrs. Harbans, the tall and stately English Lit icon in our school, strode into the classroom and wrote the poem above on the blackboard in her neat, typically teacher's handwriting. She added a twist to the poem, though, for she had omitted some words and left them to our 16-year-old's active imagination.

As my classmates and I cracked our heads to think of the most accurate words to fill in the blanks that day (mind you, it was way harder then because we did not have phones or the Internet to refer to), little did I know that English Literature would eventually take up a big part of my life, and more importantly, my mindset. I still try to squeeze this poem in whenever there is an opportunity to do so but today, I am going to seek the assistance of Emily Dickinson's masterpiece to make a gentle plea to the youngsters who will be going to the polling station (perhaps even for the first time) this Saturday. 

I suspect that many youths today do not quite know whom/which party to vote for. I don't blame them at all. As an adult, I am having a hard time myself, too. It is not only a case of choosing between "both sides of a rotten apple". From what I have seen of the fruit thus far, both sides of the apple have become more rotten than before. The even more disturbing news, however, is this: if we choose wrongly or do not choose at all, it can escalate to a point where things become as rotten as they can ever get. 

There were two topics that I extremely abhorred as a child: technology and politics. I am sure I am not alone in saying this. I could never understand any news related to politics. After all, news on robberies, murders, and natural disasters are often more sensational and strangely more 'palatable' (despite its gruesome nature), so I could not comprehend why our Standard 5 teacher forced us to memorise the names of the ministers in the cabinet back then. Why was it important for us to know who was in charge of which ministry? How would it impact a bunch of 11-year-olds? Strangely though, those names are still stuck somewhere at the back of my mind today even though I cannot seem to recognise the names of our current ministers. Hmm ... perhaps that was why. 

Lately, though, I have come to realise that it is important to roughly know what is going on in our country. Not because we want to see what kind of 'bantuan' is being doled out and to whom, or what other empty promises are strewn about as baits to unsuspecting citizens, but more so because ... it is OUR country. It is our responsibility, therefore, to be in the know. Do we remain in our family simply because we hope we get some benefits out of our family members? Is that why we were born into that family? Really?

As an adult, I have heard too many discouraging news about the state of our nation. Many friends and relatives have left the country for 'greener pastures' elsewhere. Those who are still here are encouraging and even forcing their next generation to leave Malaysia. "There is no hope left for you over here," they say. "Leave now and build a brighter future elsewhere. Why do you want to stay in a place where you are not appreciated?" In most instances, the tone is one that is already jaded.   

Perhaps I am guilty of being too idealistic. Perhaps it is out of sheer ignorance. But what is there to life if there is not even the tiniest sliver of hope? How do we ever move on from here? Is our country so forsaken that there is nothing to be done at all? I don't think so. In fact, I seriously hope not. 

I always remember my colleague's advice: The land has done no wrong. Every time I hear some nonsensical piece of news that is spewed forth from the orifice of some irrational politicians, I recall the innocence of the land that I have been living in. Look at the awesome landscape surrounding us: the waterfalls, the mountains and hills, the blue skies, the sunsets, the beautiful beaches, the paddy fields, and even the hustle and bustle of the city centre. They have done nothing wrong to deserve our insult and hatred. 

Look at the harmony we enjoy in this country. Harmony of food, that is, if nothing else. We get extremely defensive when anyone condemns our Nasi Lemak, or claims that Bak Kut Teh originates from our neighbouring country, or say that the Roti Canai we have here is not the 'original' roti. I have yet to come across any travel vloggers who can vouch that they have not gained weight ever since visiting Malaysia. Nothing beats Malaysian food. Every time someone returns from overseas, the first thing they look for will be Malaysian food. You name it, we have it. Maybe it is time for us to see things from their perspective instead. 

And as much as we complain about the people, I believe most Malaysians are generally kindhearted and somewhat united. We take pride in anyone with any Malaysian ties who has made it big outside the country. I mean, if Bill Gates had as little as 0.000000001% Malaysian blood flowing through his veins or had stayed in Malaysia for a quick 2-day stopover, we would have been hearing nonstop about his 'Malaysian' touch all over the local tabloids. And we get extremely gung-ho when it comes to sports, too. Whether it be the Olympics, or Commonwealth Games, or Thomas Cup, or even World Cup, we rally behind our athletes and scream till our throats are sore ... albeit right in front of the TV. 

The bottom line is this, Malaysia is OUR country. Let us never ever forget that. 

Please don't get me wrong. I am not telling you whom to vote for. I believe the choice is very personal and private. And hey, I am the one who thinks that both sides have become rotten apples, anyway. What I am pleading to the youths today is to go and cast your vote if you are eligible. 

Don't give up on Malaysia. She has not given up on you. If there is anyone who can actually make a difference to our country, it will certainly be the youths. You have much more energy, more drive, and a much longer lifetime to live on this land... to make a difference, and to make it better. 

And if you youngsters do not believe that there is still any hope left in the country, what is there left for the rest of us then? Keep the same hope in Emily Dickinson's poem going strong and let it continue to warm all of us. If my 7-decade old mom can wait for 2 hours in line for her turn to vote in 2018, and my dad can waddle there with his 'tongkat', why can't you? 

See you at the polling station! 

Selamat Mengundi! 

Breaking Up is Hard To Do

It is not easy to end a 7-year relationship, let alone one that is twice as long. 

Even so, it takes a while for the emotions to settle, before being able to pen any thoughts on the experience...

In October last year, I had to make a drastic decision to pull the plug on a very special bond that had lasted for the past 14 years. Truth be told, it was not easy to finally say goodbye to a friend who has seen me through thick and thin (and for most of my adult life, mind you). 

SS has always been strong, sturdy, and dependable -- exactly what you would look for in a partner. We have journeyed through many different milestones together. Whether it was work or home related, I have found a very good confidante in this faithful companion.

For one thing, SS was there to comfort and assure me when I resigned from my very first full-time job. One of my dearest colleagues watched and cried as I loaded the boxes filled with 5 years' worth of toil and sweat into the car. Even though I had laughed at that poor colleague, no one but SS alone knew that I had actually burst into tears myself as I drove away from that scene. 

SS was also there to give me courage when I made a daring decision to accept a new job and relocate to Klang, a town I had hardly ever visited. Because of the distance from home, I decided to rent a room to stay on weekdays. On those days, SS and I got lost together and travelled the unfamiliar streets of the town in peaceful silence. On Friday evenings, we looked forward to going home together, despite having to battle through the heavy traffic. 

I left Klang for good when the college eventually moved to KL. I cleared the room that had become my home for almost a year, and once again, I witnessed the landlady watching and crying as I moved my worldly possessions into the car. I tried to comfort the sweet old lady by thanking her for all she has done, and jokingly said, "Auntie, don't cry. I am not dying. I am just moving back to KL." She did not know that I too had cried as I drove that last 31 km back home. But SS knew... 

When I decided to become a freelancer, SS became even more of my confidante and sanctuary. Most workplaces did not provide exclusive seats for part-timers, so I spent quite a bit of my time resting peacefully in the arms of SS instead. Whenever I arrived early at my workplace, I would put on the sunshades and doze for a while. Sometimes during lunch, I would eat in the car. With all that commuting in the Klang Valley traffic, SS and I inadvertently got to know each other better. 

I am also truly grateful for all the times when SS had gone above and beyond the call of duty. A case in point, I would not have been able to play the role as my dad's personal Food Panda when he was hospitalised, if not for SS's sturdy, dependable nature. Together, we made two trips each day to the hospital, delivering warm food lovingly prepared by my mom. No doubt it was tiring, but at least we were able to ease my dad's discomfort, albeit a little. 

By now, you should be able to guess who this SS is. Yup, it's none other than my old and faithful Myvi. Or rather, the Myvi that once belonged to me. Because the Kancil before this was named Donatello (from the Ninja Turtles), I was compelled to give this car a nickname too. The closest I could think of for the silver Myvi at that point was just Silver Surfer (from Fantastic Four), hence SS. 

After years of ferrying friends and relatives, providing a safe space for gossips and endless memories while we sit in the car and let the engine run, and even taking students to theatres and events; the guy at the service centre finally served me the ultimatum -- a list of car parts that were gradually breaking down. For one thing, SS had started to become lukewarm (yes, in its literal sense, because the air conditioning had started to break down, among many other things). I don't think it was because of my carelessness or negligence, but more so due to the inevitable wear and tear throughout the years. Degeneration, of the car, that is. I had no choice but to finally resign to fate and say goodbye. 

With a heavy heart, I let SS go. After 14 years of accompanying each other, one would surely be able to recognise every part and idiosyncrasy that the car has. There may be tonnes of other silver Myvis on the road, but I can always distinguish my dear Silver Surfer from the others. Don't ask me how. I can walk aimlessly in the crowded carpark and still be able to stop right in front of my car. It just has a very special aura and attitude that draws me to it like a magnet, very much like a mother who can sense the presence of her child without even looking around.

If it wasn't because of the fact that I have to travel 42km to work and another 42 km back, I would have loved to prolong my relationship with SS and see what else develops. For a long time, I had thought that SS will be my last love and that I will never ever change cars. I was left with two choices: keep driving the old car and risk having it break down along the way, or say goodbye to the old car, start paying instalments for the new one but at least be able to drive with peace of mind.

I am relieved. however, to know that I am not the only person who is so unhealthily obsessive about her car. Not long after 'breaking up' with SS, two of my cousins who had much longer relationships with their cars (more than 2 decades!) had to sell their beloved cars, too. Again, the parting was not easy and they tried coming up with all kinds of excuses to keep the old car. In the end, the old still had to make way for the new. The only silver lining was that during the transition, we were able to console each other because we understood how much it hurt to say goodbye. 

Today marks the precise day I let SS go. After exactly a year, do I still miss it? Of course I do! One does not erase 14 years of one's life just like that. I will still take a double turn whenever I spot a car that resembles SS. Old habits do die hard. What about my new 'love' then? Well, that is a story for another day. Today, I just want to thank God for the car that has served me faithfully for the past 14 years. 

Let me know if you have a crazy attachment to your car, too. Haha!  

The Chinese Obsession with Numbers

3585

3680 

4094

5725

Do you recognise the numbers above? If you find them to be quite familiar, you must have been diligently following our nation's number of Covid-19 infections in the past 4 days ... for various reasons. I say 'various reasons' because I know of some who genuinely study the numbers to analyze the pattern of infection or to speculate whether the nation will have to undergo the highly-rumoured lockdown come February 4. Even so, there are others who look at the numbers and are only able to see potential 4-digits (4D) winning lotteries (think Toto, Magnum, da ma cai etc.). Among this final batch of observers, one can bet that many are actually Chinese... 

We Chinese have always been known to be obsessed with numbers. Every number (as well as every combination of numbers) has its own interpretation, and this cannot be more true than for Cantonese (and Hakka) speakers. Perhaps, to get a better grasp of this entry, it helps to first take a look at the picture below courtesy of the Viking Barca website and to study how each number is pronounced in the Cantonese dialect: 

If you have just failed your mathematic paper, or hate numbers in general, you may find this entry very disturbing and tortuous as it is ALL about numbers and nothing else. If that be the case, please feel free to stop reading here. But if you are a Cantonese speaker, you may be able to relate and laugh at some of these puns with numbers...

(You may need to pardon my lack of knowledge in Chinese characters and inaccurate pinyin, though. I am just trying to capture the right sound.) 

I think most people already know that in the Chinese culture, the digit "8" is auspicious, whereas the number "4" is NOT so popular among those who are superstitious. This is because the digit "8" (baat) is often conveniently tweaked as fatt, which means "to prosper". To the Chinese, "prosperity" is the world. On the contrary, the digit "4" (say) has the same sound as "sei" i.e. "to die". Naturally, most Chinese (being the money-minded monsters that we are) will prefer number 8, and avoid no. 4 like a plague. 

For this reason, many apartments, condominiums, and high-rise buildings DO NOT have a unit no. 4 or a Level 4 in its premise. This comes as a surprise, especially to foreigners. Instead of a Level 4, you will most likely see Levels 1, 2, 3, 3A, 5 etc. This also stretches on to Levels 11, 12, 13, 13A, 15... because the number "10" sap sounds even more similar to saat which means "definitely". To have Level 14 is, therefore, equivalent to saat say, which in typical Chinese translation means ... "sure die wan!" 

A foreigner exclaims his surprise at the unusual buttons found in Malaysian lifts

If you think it ends here, you are wrong because Level 24 is not going to be any better. The digit "2" in Cantonese is pronounced as yee, which also means "easy". Of course, by itself, the number promises ease in all sorts of situation. Case in point, if one's unit is at no. 23, it would be yee sam or yee sang which is good for couples who are trying to start a family. As for unit no. 28, it would be yee fatt i.e. "easy/smooth prosperity". Nonetheless, when paired with an inauspicious digit, namely "4", it can only mean "disaster". Yee say is to "die easily". While optimists look at 24 as a blessing (hmm... it certainly beats struggling in death), the Chinese also avoid this like a pandemic! 

If a building has many floors, I suspect that the units on the 88th floor would most likely be the priciest of all. You see, to have double '8' is akin to "double prosperity". Actually, anything ending with an "8" is almost certain to be auspicious. I use the term "almost" because there is an exception to the rule. While it is considered positive to work at Level 48 (say fatt, which denotes "endless prosperity"), superstitious business men and women may avoid setting up their office at Level 58 (mm fatt)! The digit "5", mm, reverses everything because it simply means "no/not". To have one's office at Level 58 suggests that business is NOT going to prosper. Isn't that wonderfully ironic? 

Oh, have you also come across Chinese restaurants with weird numbers (not based on their actual unit number, mind you) on their signboards? I have seen Restoran 168 (yat lou fatt = "prosperity all the way", and Restoran 118 (yat yat fatt = "daily prosperity"), but I am quite sure there are Restoran 128 and 188 somewhere as well. 

It is possible, however, for the same digits to mean absolutely different things when arranged in different sequence. For instance, while it is flattering to have 4848 (say fatt say fatt = a repetition of "continuous prosperity", the number has a less impressive interpretation when it is arranged in the reverse, 8484 (fatt say fatt say = "prosper to death")! 

Yet another set of numbers which I find particularly interesting is 5354 (mm sam mm say). My late uncle and aunty used that phrase very often to describe dodgy characters. Likewise, 9394 (gow sam gow say) is to dabble in questionable activities. Needless to say, both combinations have negative connotations! 

Image taken from diamondpaintings.com

This Chinese obsession with numbers is an endless affair. In addition to the pun on numbers, they have also come up with clever and creative phrases/idioms by personifying numbers. When a total stranger demands for our assistance, we tend to justify our reluctance to help by explaining that after all, sam mm sik chaat, which is a direct translation for "no. 3 knoweth not no. 7". Because 3 is far from 7 (and not immediately next to each other), it implies that there is no obligation between these two persons. They are strangers, after all. 

How often have we been guilty of expressing irrelevant ideas or said things that are out of sequence? In Cantonese, there is also an interesting phrase to describe this context: gow mm tup baat (simply said, 9 does not follow after 8). Isn't that an intelligent roundabout way of insulting someone who has just said something irrelevant? Under normal circumstances, no. 9 should follow after no. 8, but in this case, it doesn't. That is so much easier to say (and to understand) than the Latin version i.e. non sequitur.

I suppose one can go on and on playing with numbers and coming up with various interpretations. I know I would have to if I were a car sales executive who is trying to justify the number plate for clients or a property agent who is trying to sell a unit. 

Do you know of any other combination that sounds enlightening or entertaining? Do let me know. Till then, continue to have fun with numbers! 

Virtual Ambivalence: Little Things about Online Classes I will Secretly Miss

I was down to the second last class of the semester before the first MCO (Movement Control Order) was announced in March 2020. With only one class left to go, I set out to record the final lecture. 

In all my years of teaching, never have I thought that I would one day be caught 'working' in front of a camera. Before this, the camera used to be exclusively reserved for actors, models, and those in the entertainment industry. These days, however, we do not need to have a pretty face, a sexy figure, or a 42-inch pair of legs to get onto the screen. In fact, everyone gets more than their share of 5-seconds fame ... to the horror of many.

And if you happen to be a lecturer, you get way more screen-time than anyone else. 

Oh, of course, whether anyone is actually listening on the other side is an entirely different topic altogether. But I digress...

If you know me well enough, (or even if you don't) you would have probably guessed that I am a mimosa pudica, a touch-me-not, when I am in front of a camera. I am capable of performing the most acrobatic matrix moves when I sense myself getting within the frame of any camera. Suffice to say, I have the chubbiest face, the flabbiest body, and the lowest self esteem - the worst combo if you wish to appear on screen. I hate the camera and the camera hates me. The feeling is definitely mutual. I am just more of ... er, what you would call .... a wordy person rather than a visual one! 

Little did we know, however, that Lil Ms Corona would come and transform everyone into an overnight avatar. I, for one, had to finally tear off the sticker on my webcam and use the camera during live sessions via Zoom with the students. In addition, we were also expected to record some of our lectures using PowerPoint slides presentation. This proved to be equally challenging, too, considering that I am not blessed with a cheerful, chirpy voice. On another note, though, my students should be grateful that I am providing the most effective balm to cure insomnia --- albeit in the form of my recorded PowerPoint lectures. =) 

See the sticker covering the webcam? That had to be eventually removed...

When the MCO was first implemented in March, I was curious enough to conduct a quick poll via Zoom to find out if students preferred online or physical classes. After all, the local newspapers then had raved about how both educators and students adored and welcomed online classes. The result? 75 percent of all three groups of students preferred physical classes. Hmm ... I wonder where did the local newspapers get their initial source from?

Nonetheless, now that we have had months of online classes, those same students may have a different point of view. I mean, there are certainly a couple of things which even I, the mimosa pudica of the virtual world, will miss when this whole online learning bites the dust, if it ever does. 

#1 Sleeping In

I think both lecturers and students alike appreciate the extra snooze we now get before class. Under normal circumstances, I would have to leave the house by around 6:30 AM (and even that is sometimes considered late) if I plan to reach my workplace in time for morning classes. Half the time, it's so early that I am not even human yet as I drive on the highway. 

With online classes, I do not need to get up as early, and as a bonus, there is no need to join the heavy traffic and to 'silently cuss' at other drivers at the beginning of the day. I know this is also true for the students because many have confessed that they have woken up just 5 minutes prior to logging on to Zoom. Surprisingly, some of them can still look sleepy and dazed for their 11:00 AM classes! Sleeping in is a perk we will lose when physical classes resume. 

#2 Stretching Out

In addition to sleeping in, I also appreciate the opportunities to stretch on the bed, sofa, or floor in between classes (and during short-breaks, too). Many a time (actually, almost all the time that I am in campus), I would tell my colleagues how I wish to rent a bed just for half an hour or a few short hours to stretch my back. Coincidentally, there were some shoplot hotels renting out their rooms at an hourly rate right opposite one of the colleges where I used to teach. One fine day, I mentioned my desire to rent one of those rooms to take a quick nap. My colleagues then laughed at me and informed me that those 'rooms' were only meant for hanky-panky lunch-hour 'businesses'. (If you get it, then you get it. If you don't, then congratulations, for you have yet to be corrupted by this world.) 

To me, being able to stretch my back really makes a lot of difference. You see, I am not good at sitting still on chairs and I do have the worst posture. Being confined in that position for a long time is utmost torture for me. Stretching on the sofa, bed, and floor is certainly yet another thing I will miss when physical classes resume. 

#3 Multitasking 

One massive advantage of attending online classes is that we get to multitask on a really large scale. I have been guilty of this, both as a host and as a participant. I have soaked my dirty laundry, vacuumed the room, and even washed the toilet during those 10-minute breaks given to students. That, is one of the benefits of having the bathroom right next to my room (where I conduct the live classes). Well, I just need to check that the video and the mic are not switched on. 

As a participant, I have done much worse things. One can find me marking exam papers, preparing for other classes, and folding laundry while listening to the speaker(s). Once, I actually ran around, cooking nasi goreng kampung for my family while attending a webinar with other lecturers. How? I placed the laptop in the kitchen, switched off the camera and mic, and ran back and forth from the laptop to the chopping board, to the kitchen basin, and to the stove. (Of course, our kitchen is super small!) I had even unmuted the microphone to ask and answer questions throughout the session in case they thought that I was not present. The result? The facilitator complimented me for my contributions during the session. Haha! If there is one thing which online classes propagate, it would be sheer hypocrisy!

This was the actual nasi goreng kampung made during the webinar. Not bad, uh? 

#4 Dressing Sloppily

I suspect many lecturers would probably agree that we have become much sloppier in our dressing these days, thanks to online classes. A colleague mentioned that she only plans to look presentable from her neck upwards because that is all that the webcam can capture. While I may not have her courage (in case I have to move about in the middle of class and thus expose myself), I notice that I have been stealing opportunities to wear some of my oldest, most faded, or uncomfortable blouses paired with that pair of slacks that has a faulty zipper. Under normal circumstances, I would have felt really insecure to risk such wardrobe, but knowing that I am in the comfort of my own room, and without watchful eyes, I can easily get away with these sloppy attires. 

To be fair, another reason why some of us choose not to dress up is also because we are no longer in the freezing air-conditioned classrooms in campus, but trapped in the afternoon heat of our non-air conditioned bedrooms! Now that I come to think of it, all of my blazers, jackets, and scarves have not been aired since physical classes had been banned. It is quite impossible to wrap ourselves in such thick, rigid attires in the heat of our home. 

 

#5 Snacking 

I guess the thing I am going to miss the most when physical classes resume is the uninterrupted accessibility to snacks. When I was a full-timer, I used to have a darurat stash (emergency stash) right under the office desk. I would stock up all sorts of canned food, biscuits, packet drinks, instant drinks ... and basically everything that would prevent me from starving in the event a state of emergency is declared. As a part-timer who does not have a designated desk, though, I have had to sacrifice this darurat stash since 2016. I will have to walk over to the canteen or the convenience store to buy snacks if I wish to have any. 

Snacks at home, on the other hand, is endless. Ask anyone who has ever been to our house. From carrots to candies, biscuits to broccolis, you name it, we have it! But the most exciting sight is when I walk into the kitchen and see Mom preparing all sorts of hot, random snacks. Being confined at home (and often glued to YouTube) has prompted her to try various recipes from cekodok pisang, cucur udang, bread, apam balik, and yau char koey! Oh yes, she has definitely made online classes more fun ... for me, at least! 

With all these perks, I am not quite sure if I am ready to get back to physical classes. Oh, of course, there are MANY, MANY disadvantages of online classes, but I think I may need an entire entry to highlight them. In the meantime, I am just going to enjoy whatever life dishes me. I hope you do, too. 

Cheers and Happy 2021!