SeaDemon Says

Some people hate me for the fact that I am almost always right – especially when it comes to understanding the human heart.

“A final comfort that is small, but not cold: The heart is the only broken instrument that works” said T.E Kalem. And mine has been broken over and over again to the point that smithereens would seem to huge a piece for each piece of my heart. But it still works. At one point, I was seen to be wallowing in pain, then suddenly people would SMS or e-mail me saying I have moved on and changed to a point that most do not recognise the old me anymore. The question is: Have I actually moved on? Do I not feel any pain?

So let me give you an insight into several categories a man’s heart.

Macho Man

Most men have this facade on them. No matter what, they will maintain an even strain; act cool; no soppy-soppy business. While some suffer inside, most would seem to be able to move on even faster than a Formula One race’s average pitstop times. To them, emotional displays are hogwash and unmanly. They get the chicks faster than a hen can hatch one, denying the fact that these chicks are just rebounds: which explains why they keep changing partners.

Sensitive Man

The sensitive man feels for his partner; other people; and himself. He adapts easily into the likes of the partner, and is always sensitive to her needs. He can be clingy and pressing at times, but she would almost always yearn for his love if he is being lost. To overcome sadness, the sensitive man will try to move on, and may seem to have moved on, putting up a happy facade to hide his pain. He is most vulnerable when he is alone. No matter how long, and how many partners he may have had along the way, he will continue to think about his greatest love that was lost.

Leopard Man

A leopard doesn’t change its spots – much like tigers don’t change their stripes.

Leopards and Tigers – male ones, never care much for their partners. To them, the task of bringing up the children lies in the spouse, as are house chores, making sure his work clothes are ready, his food on the table waiting for him, washing up after meals. He expects his spouse, partner, mate, to understand that he is the dominant figure, and that she should be sufficiently contented with the fact that she is his spouse, partner, mate that he has provided a roof over her head, food to eat, so on and so forth.

When threatened with the loss of his loved ones, he tries to change his stripes or spots, and adapts the culture and emulates the values of one person his spouse, partner, mate has always dreamt of having as her life partner. Like male cats, these are just stances they adapt to make sure the mating partner will always succumb to his needs and desires: be the nice person she has always wanted to see. Once the mate is securely within his grasp, he goes back to his old ways, finding other mates to mate with: as male cats do. This man will show no or very little remorse or regret for the things he’s done that could have cost him his marriage, relationship or whatever have you – typical Alpha-Male behaviour.

Old Dog Man

They are nothing but dogs – old dogs. And as the saying goes, “You can’t teach old dogs new tricks, the saying applies to them aptly.

In a relationship, he would show jealousy, as male dogs would; but as male dogs are, he will show no commitment. he does not venture beyond his learning curve after a while and expects his mate to accept him as he is, and understand him for what he is. He will not reciprocate until and unless he is being threatened with the loss of his spouse, partner, mate; much like the Tiger/Leopard up there. But unlike the leopard/tiger up there, he is most afraid to show commitment, and most afraid of losing the love of his master (parents, first wife etc) than to lose the love of his spouse, partner, mate.

When threatened with the loss, much like a dog that has overstayed its welcome, he will attempt to show that he has changed and is willing to learn new things just so it won’t be chased out of its owner’s house. He will do anything extraordinary to him to win her heart. But as the tiger/leopard up there, he will soon wear out and will become himself back: back to wanting the partner to understand him and not reciprocating. Then he takes this stance of a chauvinist male and expects the partner to understand if he has to lose her, telling her she is strong and not to worry about life – as if he had no role to play in her being broken hearted.

So there you go, the four kinds of hearts men have. There are no middle of the road categories. So pick your choice. – and do so carefully.

“Vakratunda mahakaya
suryakoti samaphraba
nirvighnam kurmedeva
sarvakaryeshu sarvada”

I was chanting the Ganesha vedic shloka (I call it the Om Vakratund) that Hindus would chant in the morning before they start their daily chores. They’d pray to Lord Ganesha for his blessings for the day.

Maybe I should have done the equivalent of that as I was spending my hour and a half in the jam trying to get home after sending my daughter, Iqa, for her netball match. Everywhere the roads are jammed, then I remembered: it’s Federal Territory Day and roads are closed everywhere.

Kuala Lumpur became the first Federal Territory back in 1974 (since then, two other places have come under the Federal Territory – Labuan and Putrajaya). Prior to 1st February 1974, we would have to sing three songs during the morning assembly: NegaraKu, Duli Yang Maha Mulia (the Selangor state anthem), and the school song. Anyone born in KL before that day, would have the state code ’10’ (for Selangor) as part of his/her national registration identification card (NRIC) number.

A year before that, a packet of nasi lemak at the school canteen would cost only 5 sen; and with 10 sen in your pocket, you’d be feasting like a King. Of course there were boys in my school who would be buying a bottle of Coca Cola (beyond my affordability then) and entered the Coca Cola Yoyo Competition, while I would buy junk snacks just to get my Bruce Lee stencil collection (if not the Ultraman ones). Then came the oil crunch with the formation of the OPEC; and since I never got pocket money from my parents and had to rely on my daily butter with sugar sandwich and syrup in a tupperware (that is almost always empty by the time I get to recess time because most of it would have spilt inside my school bag), and had also to rely on my collection of Singaporean coins because they looked good with the little dragons on them, I was royally screwed: even the kacang putih seller stopped recognising Singaporean money. So I blame my current condition to my maid’s generosity in sprinkling tons of sugar onto the butter spread on my sandwiches (scapegoats are always good – especially when they are already dead).

1974 was a good year somewhat. My favourite times would be the weekends when I would spend time at my friend’s place at Taman Ibukota in Gombak. I’d wear a cardigan when it was morning school session (those days you’re on a 6-monthly dual-shifts: afternoon, then morning). KL would get misty on cold mornings. Then came June 1974 when everything changed. My father’s predecessor, Tan Sri Abdul Rahman Hashim, was gunned down by a communist assassination squad between the Lee Yan Lian building and Bukit Mahkamah (where Menara Maybank is), and my father was promoted as the nation’s top police post on June 8th, 31 days before my 8th birthday: and life turned to hell.

But life back in 1974 was simple. KL was just a simple city: Campbell building was the tallest then, save for the Parliament building. Pertama Complex, Bangunan Ming (on Jalan Bukit Nanas), Menara Zainal Abidin (former BBMB – where Bank Muamalat is now) were still under construction. And we friends, malays, chinese, indians alike would put “school first” than “race” whenever there is a quarrel between inter-school sports rivals. Race and religion were in our pockets somewhere, never to be seen.

How KL has progressed in terms of development, and regressed in terms of race relations, and changed in its character 34 years later.

My thoughts on 1974’s KL was interrupted when a car honked as the light had turned green. My car lurched forward and several minutes later, I arrived home. I gave a sigh of relief, went inside the house, greeted by my daughter Nisaa, asked her a few questions, then came into this room to log on to the Internet.

As I began to type this posting, a text message came in and it read:

“Ayah…kitorang dah habis main netball. Dah boleh ambik sekarang.”

Oh, crap!

“Vakratunda mahakaya suryakoti samaphraba…

It’s the Malaysian Maritime Enforcement Agency. I hope to either get a post at the HQ, or in Tawau or Sandakan where piracy and smuggling activities are still rampant. Go where the action is. After all, I have 13 good years left, and I can only live this life once. I can make good of all the training I have received during my Air Force days.

It would be a good thing for me to be away, too.

Maybe I would grow to like the place, and follow the footsteps of some of my predecessors in the military who have settled down there and never to come back.

All I’ll be needing would be my dive equipments.

Now, let’s wait for the reply.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. ”

Mark Twain

I can sail, I can fly a plane, I have an ‘E’ drivers license, I can skydive, I can BASE-jump, I can do recreational diving, I can do technical diving, I have been to the North Pole, I have performed my Haj, I rode on a jet-ski 1,000 kilometers non-stop, I’ve fired guns of all sorts, throw grenades, fire anti-tank weapons, fire anti-aircraft missile…and I still have two more things I would like to achieve before I die.

How has your life been like so far?

General (Rtd) President Haji Mohd Suharto is no more.

He passed away just after 1pm yesterday after more than 3 weeks of being gravely ill.

Just what kind of legacy did he leave behind?

Suharto was instrumental in ending the Confrontation between Indonesia and Malaysia, and advocated the strengthening of ties between the two countries. He also ended the life of the Partai Komunis Indonesia, an organisation his predecessor, President Sukarno, maintained, thus weakening the influence of the communists in this part of South East Asia.

It is my believe that the late President of Indonesia had to rule his country the way he did. It is not easy to maintain the cohesion of a country that is made of 13,000 islands with 200 million people. Look at what has happened to the country after that style of ruling was removed with the stepping down of Suharto in May 1998, following the Asian Economic Crisis. I am not trying to exonerate him of his acts when he was in power; I am merely saying that at that point of time, Indonesia needed such a ruler.

Despite the existence of nepotism, collusion, cronyism, corruption that existed during his rule, Suharto should be remembered for turning his country from a poor post-colonial nation into a modern and strong country. Most of those who demonstrated against him since 1998 until his passing were too young to remember the late President’s gift to them: freedom from colonial oppression.

During his time, race and religion issues never surfaced; but has now reared its ugly head, causing countless deaths amongst both Indonesians and foreigners. Forlorn Soldier should remember how ugly it was in Sulawesi when he was stuck there during the racial and religious wars that happened there after Suharto stepped down: something that had never happen before in that part of the world.

What Indonesians failed to see back in 1998 was, Suharto was not to blame for the economic crisis that had caused them to lose up to 80% of their purchasing power. It was a regional thing. Much like the empty promise certain quarters have made to the people of Malaysia should they be voted in to form a government – to reduce the price of fuel: where had these people come from? Saturn?

Anyway, my personal experience of Suharto’s Indonesia was of not hearing of any major crime taking place in Indonesia during Suharto’s time. No banks were ever robbed there. It would be almost suicidal to rob banks in Indonesia then, or to commit crimes against foreigners.

He also used to send one of his trusted friends, General Drs Widodo Budidarmo, then the Inspector-General of the Indonesian Police Force to Malaysia to enhance cross-border ties with the Royal Malaysian Police. My family hosted dinner for Pak Widodo at our residence (now part of the Tun Razak Memorial complex) at least three times before his retirement in 1978. The relationship between the police force of both nations were at its best then. It was then that my father was awarded the Bintang Bhayangkara Utama by Suharto, while Pak Widodo was made an Honorary Tan Sri when he received the Panglima Setia Mahkota Malaysia Yang Mulia (PSM).

Suharto, love him or hate him, was the best son Indonesia ever had up until now.

al-Fathihah.