No fake eggs, only good and bad ones

The news you have been fed by the radio, newspapers or the TV about fake eggs is inaccurate -- fake, if you will.
The so-called "fake" eggs seized from the Pulau Tikus wet market in Penang a few weeks ago were real.

Veterinary Services Department director-general Datuk Dr Abd Aziz Jamaluddin said so.

Apparently, the department ran tests and found nothing fake about the eggs. So, don't worry. Go ahead and have your hard-boiled eggs or roti telur today.

When my colleague told me about fake eggs from China being sold here, I was amused. According to him, it costs only three sen to produce a fake egg.

If indeed eggs can be faked -- and so cheaply at that -- greedy local traders would be crowing all the way to the bank. Poultry farmers would be crying foul.

But now we know that "fake" eggs are but only deformed ones that are deemed unfit for sale because they are not aesthetically pleasing.

Ironically, such confusion and controversy can only happen in the modern age. Those who love their eggs these days have probably never reared chickens. If they had, they would not have been so easily ruffled.

When my family lived in the kampung back in the 1970s, we reared chicken, ducks, turkeys and geese.

Our neighbours also had their free-ranging poultry.

As children, we knew how to distinguish one type of egg from another, and not mistake a duck's egg for a hen's. We also saw our share of strange eggs, especially those from chickens.

Did you know that shell of the hen's egg is soft when it is laid, but hardens within seconds?

But some of the eggs remained soft indefinitely. We have also seen "deformed" ones, which shells are rough to the touch. Some are not oval but round like a turtle's egg. There were also those with shells so thin they cracked as easily as a lizard's egg.

Some eggs came with two yolks, which according to an old wives' tale, would result in the birth of Siamese twins if they were eaten by a pregnant woman.

To deal with deformities of the egg shell, we burned cockle shells, ground them into powder, and added it into the chicken feed.

Within weeks, hens fed this mix would lay uniformly sized eggs with normal, shiny shells.

Our elders believed that hens laid abnormal eggs because of too little calcium in their diet, hence the cockle shell supplement.

I do not know if that is true. But I do know that when we wanted the yolks to be bright yellow, we only needed to feed the hens a ground padi husk and corn mix.

The problem kampung folk faced those days was not fake eggs, but hidden eggs. The free-ranging hens were experts in hiding their eggs - in the lemon grass (serai) bushes or under piles of firewood.

Our clue was the hen's incessant clucking after it has laid an egg.

Where the hen clucks, the egg is not far away. The Malay proverb Bertelur sebiji, riuh sekampung was hatched from this. It is applied to people who like to brag about their accomplishments, especially small, insignificant deeds.

Widen dragnet for abandoned vehicles

CITY HALL's move to remove abandoned vehicles from the compound of low-cost public housing areas last week must have come as a surprise to the owners. How many would have expected it to happen.
Those whose abandoned vehicles had been wheeled to City Hall's car pound can now pay the fine, tow fees and other charges to reclaim their vehicles or have them sold off as scrap.

One low-cost unit dweller who read the news in Streets last week told me he was happy with the move. Heaping praises on City Hall's enforcement team, he said the local authority should conduct the operations on alternate months and set up a hotline where people can report abandoned vehicles to the local authority.

"DBKL should have done it earlier," the chap said. "The owners of these abandoned vehicles are just selfish.

"They leave the old cars and trucks in low-cost public housing areas because the high pedestrian traffic in the densely populated area reduces the chances of the vehicle parts like the tyres or lamps being stripped by vandals.

"Some of the vehicle owners don't even stay in the flats," he added.

"They only use the parking lots as storage area until they figure out what to do with the vehicles."

I agree with him. Although I don't live in a low-cost flat, my medium-cost condominium has also been used to dump old vehicles. The building manager is facing problems with abandoned vehicles whose owners' whereabouts are not known.

There are now several vans of dubious origins taking up precious parking space. Last year, a truck was left in our compound for about six months until someone complained that it could be used by unscrupulous people to store contraband. It prompted the building manager to put a notice on it saying the the vehicle would be removed if the owner did not claim it. Soon after, the van was driven away.

I am wondering if City Hall would extend the service to all housing areas to get rid of such abandoned vehicles -- especially those that rob rate payers of parking space. Some of those who own old vehicles are conveniently exploiting the inaction of local authorities and using public space as their storage area for free.

One chap I know who operates a business area in Taman Danau Kota, off Genting Kelang, complained about old vehicles being left along the roads there, some illegally along yellow lines and many on legitimate parking lots.

According to him, the vehicles had been seen since a midnight bazaar started operating a few years ago. I also remember seeing the vehicles, most of which were vans and small trucks.

"The vehicles are owned by bazaar traders," he said. "These old vans and trucks are mobile stores, usually filled with merchandise. They are left at public parking lots or by the road side near the bazaar during the day.

"At night, their owners drive them to their respective trading spots at the bazaar. The vehicles are left in public parking lots where parking fee collection has yet to be implemented or parked along yellow lines.

"As a result, they take up valuable parking lots and deprive those who are running errands here of parking space. They are then forced to double park and cause congestion."

Annual income requirement for cardholders too low

THE RM2,000 monthly salary requirement for new credit card approvals did not go down well with one of my teh tarik mates.
Last Saturday, while having breakfast in Sentul, our topic of conversation switched from the Japan nuclear crisis to Bank Negara Malaysia's revision of the minimum annual income requirement for new credit card applications, from RM18,000 to RM24,000.

My friend felt that the RM2,000 monthly pay requirement was too low.

He suggested that the minimum requirement be tagged at a monthly salary of RM2,500 or even RM3,000. The revision does not make it too difficult to own a credit card, he said.

"Even making those who wished to own two cards to have an annual income of RM36,000 per annum will not help reduce credit card debt problems," he added.

It is not difficult to see what he is driving at. To give a credit card to someone who earns RM2,000 a month is asking for trouble, especially for those who are living in the city where the cost of living is high and the temptation to spend aplenty.

Simple calculations will show why.

Subtracting 15 per cent from one's monthly pay, say RM2,000, for mandatory deductions like the Employees Provident Fund and Social Security contributions will leave the wage earner with about RM1,700 to take home.

Take away a third of this for accommodation needs, and he/she will be left with about RM1,000 to spend.

Remove another RM300 for monthly travel expenses (which is not enough if he/she owns a car) and he/she will be left with about RM700 monthly.

This translates to about RM25 per day left for other expenses such as food, cigarettes, phone top-ups, entertainment, Internet access, and sundry purchases.

This is based on the assumption that the wage earner does not have other commitments such as housing, car, education or personal loans to repay. Otherwise, it will not be long before the credit card owner gives in to the temptation and starts living on credit.

If statistics are anything to go by, one should also be concerned that 50 per cent of 3.2 million credit card holders have annual incomes of below RM36,000 as quoted in the recent news report. It would be interesting to know how many of these card holders owe their banks, how much, and for how long. Even more interesting is how many of them have been blacklisted and are on the verge of bankruptcy.

The credit card can only encourage prudent financial planning if one manages one's spending well. But how many people use the credit facility responsibly and resist the temptation of not making purchases using income yet to be earned? The poor spending habit is further compounded by the fact that one only needs to pay a small fraction of the total debt monthly to continue using their plastic cash.

And when emergency expenses hit those with high credit card debt, they have no choice but to borrow from friends or even loan sharks to stay afloat.

Why have your resume in MyKad?

TO make it more convenient for job seekers, the Labour Department has proposed that soft copies of resumes be stored in the MyKad.
According to a report two Sundays ago, the department director-general Datuk Sheikh Yahya Sheikh Mohamed said the proposal had been made to the Human Resources Ministry, which would study the available technology and costs. The move is to relieve the burden of job seekers, especially school leavers.

While the idea is good, I wonder if it is practical, considering the fact that resumes need to be updated each time one changes jobs, acquires new skills or gains new paper qualifications.

If a self-updating feature is available, and the user is allowed to freely access the MyKad, then the authorities will have security issues to contend with.

Is the technology worth the investment when there are so many online networking sites that offer resume templates, and which can be easily accessed via any mobile or desktop web browser?

Some of these sites are not only created by professionals, but are as easy to use as the email.

A good example is Linked-In (www.linkedin.com), created nine years ago. It has 90 million users worldwide and an infrastructure few can equal. Not only does it provide resume templates, it also has a professional contact networking feature. It can be used to find jobs, people or business opportunities. You can even list jobs and seek potential candidates. Job seekers can check out the profile of the potential employer and see which of their contacts can introduce them to the vacancy.

Moreover, Linked-In is not the only site with all the bells and whistles that young job seekers today expect.

So, how relevant will the proposed resume feature in the MyKad be to the average modern job seeker, who is well-connected and technology-savvy?

That aside, there is little sense in using sophisticated -- and probably costly -- technology to perform a job as simple as the storing of a resume.

The MyKad should instead contain vital information such as its holder's medical history and allergies (like the Medic Alert band).

It could even have a geo-location of the holder's home or workplace, with widespread use of global positioning system (GPS) devices. The phone numbers of the card holder's next-of-kin would inarguably be useful in an emergency.

For resumes, just use a flash drive -- it's easier to carry and cheaper, too.

Respect zebra crossings forpedestrians' sake

HEARD the one about a country bumpkin who was trying to cross a busy street downtown? Seeing the poor man in his predicament, a traffic policeman walked up to him and said: "Sir, there is a zebra crossing down the street."
The chap looked at the policeman, looked annoyed, and exclaimed: "Oh, yeah? I hope he's got better luck than me."

If you are smiling because you know what a zebra crossing is, I wonder if you recognise it when you see one.

Plentiful in the 1970s, zebra crossings are black and white (now yellow) stripes painted across roads with flashing amber lights stationed at either end.

They have no standard traffic lights facing oncoming traffic, but motorists are obliged to stop when someone is spotted on the crossing, or at the road shoulder waiting to cross.

The pedestrian crossings you see around the city today, including those at traffic light junctions, are not zebra crossings in the strict sense of the word.

In the United Kingdom, they are called pelican crossings -- pelican being a modified acronym for pedestrian light controlled (or pelicon). These have standard traffic lights mounted instead of flashing amber lights.

There is a button for you to press if you need to cross, but you have to wait for the light on your side to turn green before you should do so.

Some of these crossings are disabled-friendly, with chimes to alert the blind when it is safe to cross. Many have countdowns to let you know how much time you have to cross before the light for oncoming traffic goes green.

Compared with viaducts or overhead bridges, zebra or pedestrian crossings are more viable alternatives to connect walking pathways.

They can be built at a fraction of the cost of a bridge and in much shorter time.

They are also easier to maintain and more likely to be used by everyone than the pedestrian bridges or underpasses, many of which have become crime havens.

The only problem with pedestrian or zebra crossings is that many city motorists are like country bumpkins.

They do not recognise the crossings when they see one -- perhaps out of ignorance or apathy.

Take the zebra crossing at Sentul Pasar for instance.

Each morning, while driving to work, I see market-goers making their daily dash to cross the busy road despite using the crossing as they lug their baskets or with children in tow.

Motorists zip pass without batting an eyelid, let alone stop.

There have been many near-misses and I have watched startled pedestrians hurling verbal abuses at inconsiderate motorists.

Fortunately, I have not seen anyone hurt.

I have not seen any camera mounted at this zebra crossing or any pedestrian crossing around the city for that matter to record the misdeeds of errant motorists.

Because of this, brazen motorists continue to give scant regard to the rights of pedestrians on crossings.

In one of my trips to Johor, I saw a pedestrian crossing that can perhaps be an eye-opener for traffic authorities in the Klang Valley.

This crossing did not have flashing amber lights or signalised traffic lights. The only indicators of the crossing's location were two signboards placed several metres up and downstream of it.

But motorists obediently slow down when approaching the crossing even when no one was using it.

Humps high enough to slow down the most reckless speed demon have been put up on both sides of the crossing.

Someone must have been irked by speeding motorists in the area to have come up with the bumpy ride idea to teach errant motorists to slow down.

Perhaps the traffic managers in the city can learn a thing or two from this so that errant motorists learn to respect the rights of pedestrians at crossings.

Fuming over shisha smoking ban

THE call for the ban of shisha smoking at eateries did not go down well with a group of smokers at an Arab outdoor restaurant in the city where I was dining out with my family last Thursday.

Apparently, the group of local shisha smokers was fuming over the report in the New Straits Times they had read earlier that day.

The Malaysian Medical Association had called for the ban of the tobacco-molasses pipe following the Kota Baru Municipal Council's decision to stop shisha smoking in eateries.

We were finishing our drinks after dinner when the group arrived. They took a table next to ours and promptly ordered a shisha pipe to be shared.


Because I was not too fond of smoke when dining, I took a table far away from diners who were there to smoke the pipes.

But when the group arrived, I had the pleasure of listening to their side of the story. The youths, three young men and a woman in their 20s, were loudly expressing their displeasure between shared puffs of the shisha pipe.


One of them said that shisha smoking was not harmful, and concluded that it was no worse than cigarette, cigar or pipe smoking.

A girl in the group chided the MMA for not minding its own business and infringing on the right of shisha smokers to smoke.

I did not know what shisha smoking was until that evening's eye-opener. As I watched the waiters topping up the hot coal onto a receptacle on top of the shisha pipe, and smelling the sweet scent of the second-hand smoke, I realised why many non-smokers who hated cigarette smoke did not mind shisha's.


It did not smell as bad as burnt tobacco, a clove cigarette, or cheap cheroot.

But I wonder if shisha smoking is not as harmful as smoking cigarettes.

Never mind if the smoke is less smelly but tobacco is still tobacco, and burnt tobacco produces nicotine.

And what about the coal used to heat up the shisha -- does the smoker not inhale some of the fumes from burning coal in the same breath?

That evening, I wondered if the eatery which provided such good Arab food would consider setting up a non-smoking area soon so that non-smokers like my family and I could enjoy their excellent cuisine without having to inhale second-hand smoke on the slipstream or struggle to see what were on the plates because of too much smoke.

Defenders of shisha smoking could say that the activity is attractive to tourists from the Middle-East.

Premises offering shisha smoking can certainly make these tourists feel at home -- just like the sight of nasi lemak to Malaysians in a foreign land.

But when I see more locals than Arabs tugging at the hoses of shisha pipes, I wonder if local smokers are merely doing it to look cool or a new smoking culture is being adopted.

As far as I know, our forefathers only smoked rokok daun (tobacco rolled in nipah palm leaves) but never shisha.

2011 shaping into good year for the fortune tellers

JUDGING by the amount of exposure soothsayers were given at the very beginning of this year, says an observer, horoscope reading must be getting back into vogue. Not only were the periodicals generous with their print space to feature fortunetellers and their predictions, the electronic media, too, has given much airtime. One television station featured horoscope reading as an hour-long programme on the eve of the New Year and repeated it the next day.

The days of sidewalk fortune tellers may be numbered in the age of computers, but certainly there is no shortage of demand for their services even among the most skeptical or highly educated. Given the right marketing push, the art of divination can be lucrative.

One soothsayer had came up with a series of books to predict what the Year of Rabbit held in as early as October last year. Whether or not the predictions are accurate, I have no way of knowing, but to judge by the dog-eared copies in dumper bins with big discount stickers now stuck on them, I can't help but wonder if the author could have foretold the outcome of the books.

Chinese or English horoscope, there is no shortage of believers - whether they read them out of obsession or curiosity. Some people I know will not buy a newspaper if the horoscope section is missing. No one noticed when once, some predictions became mixed up, a magazine copy editor told me. But when she left out a horoscope in one issue, the phones did not stop ringing.

Science or quackery, only the experienced can tell. Sometimes even the experts are stumped when the stars refused to cooperate and play havoc with predictions. The more sensible among my friends say that you should take readings with a grain of salt. Take the case of a colleague who turns 60 this year. The stars are said to be against him - and people born in the Year of the Rabbit. However, his fears proved unfounded when he struck lottery a fortnight ago.

Perhaps the best way to take horoscope readings, if you cannot accept them as novelty, is to use some common sense.

If you can get out of bed today, earn enough to feed and house yourself and your family, and sleep well without worries t onight, then it is a good day regardless of what soothsayers say.

Rejoice in price-less celebrations

AVOIDED buying white pomfret (bawal tambak in Malay or tau tai cheong in Cantonese) this year although the price was cheaper than last year's at the pasar tani I had gone to.

My wife also decided to forgo banana prawns, the crustaceans sought after by the Chinese during the Lunar New Year for its auspicious significance. The giant prawns were so ridiculously priced, at RM80 per kilo a week before New Year's day, that I felt I could do without the prosperity dish if it meant making fishmongers prosperous first.

We avoided buying dried meat from a famous shop in the city centre - not only because the prices had gone up but the queue was painfully long.

Although the shop's dried meat was my daughter's favourite, we decided that standing for more than an hour in a queue is a price not worth paying for.

Ever counted how often we have allowed ourselves to be drawn into festive buying frenzies only to regret later that we had bought things we can ill-afford or don't need?

Through herd mentality, how often have we allowed ourselves be fooled by marketers playing on our emotional weaknesses and superstitious beliefs? Regardless of our religious inclination, educational background, or creed, gullibility gets the better of us sometimes.

Today, I am sure the hopeless romantic in us will be paying for roses through our noses. It is Valentine's Day, in case you have forgotten. And yes, another excuse to splurge. Never mind if the roses cost you an arm and a leg -- you can still hop into work the next day, hopefully.

Luckily, Valentine's Day does not fall on Chap Goh Meh. If it did, one city pub owner tells me, business might suffer if Chinese lovebirds chose to celebrate the Chinese version of the lover's day by flocking to bridges and throwing oranges into rivers instead of going to pubs and fine-dining restaurants.

We can point fingers at commercial brainwashing for all the hype that are burning holes in our pockets but I think we have only ourselves to blame for succumbing to price hikes during festive seasons.

In the case of Feb 14, which is a multi-million ringgit industry flooded with cards, presents, and flowers, we should perhaps allow heads to rule our hearts instead.

Isn't it ridiculous to associate the price of gifts or number of roses you receive or give away with the level of affection? Why show love and affection only on this day when it is perfectly all right to do so on any day of the year -- and with less strain on the pocket?

Don't get involved in this hare-raising experience

PEOPLE tell me that pet dealers are laughing all the way to the bank this Chinese New Year. Rabbit sales have outdone that of dogs or cats.
Although some restaurants have their reservations in serving rabbit meat, the enthusiasm for bunnies among those whose houses I visited is simply amazing.

I was also told that some had bought rabbits after some soothsayers claimed that it was auspicious to have a bunny in the house.

But if the path to prosperity is still not clear to you as you read this, and you are prompted to get a rabbit for your home before Chap Goh Meh, I think you should be aware of a report I read two weeks ago.

According to AFP, rabbit dealers from Thailand to China are doing brisk business but their road to prosperity has raised concerns among animal activists.

To discourage maltreatment of rabbits, a representative of the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (Peta) organisation has reiterated that rabbits are high-maintenance animals that require significant resources, equipment, attention and veterinary care.

They are not, as your pet dealer will tell you, cute and easy-to-care-for pets that you can introduce to your children.

I agree totally. Having lived two doors away from a neighbour who reared rabbits for meat in the 1970s, I recall how much work went into rabbit keeping.

Rabbits dislike heat and dampness. You cannot hose them down during hot spells like you do a dog or they will catch a cold and die.

As commercial rabbit feed was not widely available, the rabbits were fed wheat grain and rabbit hay -- a type of long-node succulent grass found near waterways.

But you had to make sure the grass is completely dry before they are dropped into the pen. Wet feed would give the rabbits a skin disease and eventually kill them.

Rabbit pens were raised a metre or more off the ground.

They had mesh flooring to enable rabbit urine and droppings to fall through.

The pen had to be airy and the area beneath cleaned daily. A dirty surrounding breeds diseases; a fungal infection can wipe out an entire rabbit population in days.

Of course, for the commercially inclined, the amorous rabbit is a boon. Left to their own devices, a pair can bear you an army six months down the line. You will know how scary that can be if you have reared guppies.

Maintenance and labour costs would multiply unless you keep the males and females separated.

And if you are thinking of buying a rabbit as a pet companion, perhaps you should think again.

Unless you can take good care of the animals and not dump them into the woods, like most people do their unwanted dogs and cats in the city, the bunny may not be good company.

And I am sure the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals will appreciate it if you do not get them involved in your hare-raising experience

Goodbye to a good year, hello to a new one

SO, we have already chalked up a month to another year. Last year wasn't so bad, was it? I am sure you will agree that we had more to be thankful for last year than we had the previous years.
For one, there were fewer street demonstrations in 2010 and city folk like you and I could go about earning a living without worrying if we would get to work or home in time because of sudden road closures.

The number of street demons aka Mat Rempit has not gone down but let's keep our fingers crossed that those who escape police dragnets will grow up, repent and ride safely for their own sake and their family's.

As for the morning jam, well, just treat it like breakfast, and with less fuss until the traffic or public transport system is improved.

My side of the city feels a little safer with mobile police beat bases set up in areas where youths like to loiter. Since I have not heard about snatch thefts in the past two weeks, I am going to hope that the police presence is enough to deter petty crime. I know my colleague who stays in Puchong sleeps a little easier with policemen on horseback patrolling her neighbourhood.

City Hall officers have done a good job, too, where discouraging illegal parking is concerned. Last year had been the city authority's year of enforcement, and I am encouraged to see that it had done well. From the windows of Balai Berita, I have observed how often the DBKL men and women came around to issue summonses on illegally parked vehicles -- although some errant motorists are still at it.

Perhaps the authority will just have to work a little harder since the tide of reckless parking has shown little signs of ebbing. Higher fines may do the trick where even towing has failed. But, of course, City Hall has to ensure that there are enough parking lots. It is not fine to fine motorists who park illegally while allowing workshop and eatery operators to hog the parking lots in front of their premises.

Under the safe city concept, covered pedestrian walkways connecting some light-rail and monorail stations (LRT) in the city were constructed. These will be a boon to pedestrians. Once completed, more people will be encouraged to use public transport and fewer will drive into the city. This will, in turn, reduce jam and pollution.

The long-awaited transformation of Brickfields and the massive upgrading of Taman Tasik Perdana are two developments we can be proud of, among others, last year.

Let's hope that this year, urban renewal programmes will make the city an even better place to work, live and play in. Can we trust the city planners to have the foresight to retain traditional charms in the pursuit of modernity?

The best news last year was probably for the poor, when 44,146 low-cost flats from the People's Housing Scheme were offered for sale to them. The extra effort taken by the Federal Territories and Urban Wellbeing Ministry to set up the Housing Credit Guarantee Corporation to act as bank loans guarantor for those wihtout a fixed income is commendable.

The challenge now is to make sure that the low-cost units go to the deserving and not to those looking to make a quick buck by renting out the flats. And once these properties are handed over, City Hall should ensure that these low-cost housing schemes are well maintained so they do not become urban ghettoes.

So, as we celebrate yet another City Day tomorrow, we have lots to thank for. I am counting my blessings today and possibly over the next few days.

You can join me in appreciating the sparse traffic and improved air quality if you are in no hurry to get out of town like most of the city folk on long weekends.

Motorcycle riders' dance with death

A LADY biker I read about in one of the dailies recently likened riding a bike to dancing the salsa -- you need to twist left and right, she was quoted as saying. Although I did not agree with her, I am happy she has finally explained why some bikers are so fond of weaving in and out of traffic. A silent rhapsody must have triggered the odd behaviour.
You have met some of the notorious ones, have you not? I am not talking about the Mat Rempit, whose status has now been reduced to Gengster Jalanan (or road hoods) to prevent further glorification of the nickname.

I am talking about the regular road bikers you and I meet on our way to work and back daily -- the sensible folk who need a job, money and good health as much as you and I do. Those you meet at the office, the food stalls or the pasar malam, and whom you would not mind being friends with -- until they put on their helmets and throttle up.

You often catch sight of them in your rear view mirror as you wait your turn at the traffic lights or during a jam. They weave in and out of the lanes of cars behind yours. Often, the sight of them make you go weak in the knees as you pray that they will not ram their machines into your car's rear bumper yet again, or smash your side mirror as they shoot past you.

On unlucky days when they do break your side mirror, you pray hard that they will not be caught off-balance by their own folly and injure themselves and blame you for it.

I am sure you have had the daylights scared out of you at the traffic junctions when some of them shot off to a flying start even before the traffic lights on their side had turned green. Not too long ago, a long-haired biker showed me how a two-wheeler can put my four-wheeler to shame on the fast lane. I did not know where to put my face when I finally caught up with the biker at the junction -- only to find that it was a makcik in a leather jacket and jeans riding a kapcai.

I remember that in the old days bikers used to show more courtesy to other road users. They also had greater respect for the law. Today, the road manners of some of them leave very little to be desired. They no longer ride on the left side of the road or keep to speed limits.

Maybe it's advertisement puffery that drives them to think that it is stylish to ride fast and furious. Perhaps we can blame technology for coming up with lighter machines that have more power to do more harm than good, especially if the power-crazy throw caution to the wind.

Some people tell me that it is the perception that, in the event of an accident between a car and a bike, the law will always side the biker. Could this have driven most sane people to do crazy things on a bike then? Really, does it matter who is in the right or wrong when bikers lose a limb, or life in an accident?

Rogue drivers bring traffic to a crawl on highway

A FEW weeks ago, I had to visit a a relative who was hospitalised at the Subang Jaya Medical Centre. Since I had to drive to Subang Jaya from the city, I decided to use the North Klang Valley Expressway.
That day being a Friday, I thought the NKVE would be a better choice to avoid the evening rush-hour traffic. The downpour that came an hour earlier also prompted my decision.

I reached the Jalan Duta toll plaza about 6pm and queues were already forming at all lanes, which was not surprising.

However, after the toll gate, the traffic ahead had been reduced to a crawl, made worse by the heavy vehicles that did not keep to the left lanes as they were supposed to as they climbed the slope.

When I reached the fork in the highway that led to Sungai Buloh and Petaling Jaya, I was in for more surprises.

It had started to rain and from there till the Kota Damansara exit, it was a bumper-to-bumper crawl.

Being unacquainted with the traffic situation there, I called Plusline when the vehicles were at a standstill and the operator told me that the bad crawl was precipitated by the usual after-office-hour jam at the Subang exit.

Throughout the journey from the Kota Damansara exit to the Damansara exit, queue jumpers made the slow moving traffic worse.

These impatient motorists switched lanes as and when they wanted, getting ahead when other drivers were not keeping up with the vehicles in front.

And if one motorist denied them their chance to move into their lane, they waited for another.

While the inter-lane queue jumpers wreak havoc on the main traffic stream, another group of inconsiderate drivers use the emergency lanes to swiftly get ahead of the queue.

Vehicles of all sizes formed this rogue convoy. From drivers of Kancil to express buses, 4WDs to trailers, these motorists were using the emergency lanes. These rogues got onto the adjacent lane whenever there was a gap.

One truck driver, was incensed by the driver of a Kancil that he threw an empty plastic bottle at the car when it inched into the space between the truck and an express bus ahead.

Though the highway authorities can do little about the queue jumpers, it can act on those abusing the emergency lanes since the highway is monitored by closed-circuit television cameras.

Fines can even be imposed when they exit at the toll gates since their vehicles can be identified through the CCTVs.

Traffic controllers on bikes could also be dispatched to these areas to set up barricades.

Highway concessionaires have a responsibility towards their road users.

In exchange for the toll fees, road users expect to have a pleasant, safe and, often, faster journey to their destinations.

By taking steps to apprehend rogue drivers on highways, concessionaires not only generate goodwill among their paying customers but are also helping to prevent accidents.

Wife's smile truly a sight for sore eyes

I UNDERWENT surgery six days ago to remove a cataract in my right eye. The cataract was discovered during a routine eye examination two years ago.
I ignored it because it was not a hindrance - until I started seeing triple images in the middle of last year.

My optometrist said it was no use trying to correct my increased astigmatism, which was caused by the cataract as tests had ruled out corneal astigmatism. He asked me to consider surgery.

Since my children were sitting for important examinations last year, I decided to delay the surgery unti after Christmas. While waiting, I learnt all I could about cataract, even about how the lens should be inserted into the eye during surgery for best results.

Cataract is the clumping of proteins of the lens, turning it opaque and yellow as we age.

The most popular treatment is surgery -- the faulty lens is removed and an artificial, biologically inert lens is put in its place. Over the past 15 years, I read on a lens manufacturer's website, 30 million eyes have been implanted with such intraoccular lenses.

Since clumping of the proteins causes cataracts, I thought there must be research done on the reversal of the process. As I Googled for scholastic papers on the subject, I found a research done by a Russian scientist and wrote to him. He had perfected the method of introducing a chemical via eye drops that he claimed successfully reversed cataracts in people of various ages in human tests.

Hopeful, I asked a friend's brother to purchase the eye drops for me. I became my own guinea pig, just to see if it worked. My decision was partly inspired by the scientist who replied to my email and explained how it worked. I figured if it worked, the results would be apparent in six months and I would not need surgery. Unfortunately, in my case, it did not.

Finally, when everyone else was celebrating Christmas and New Year, I was feeling anything but happy. I went to see the eye surgeon, fixed an appointment, and scheduled the day for surgery.

On the day of surgery, I got up early, said my prayers and headed for the hospital. A nurse asked me if I was scared. I told her I was not. But I was a little worried, I said, after having read so much about surgery and complications. Afraid? No. In fact, barely an hour before I was wheeled into the operation theatre at 1pm, I even helped troubleshoot a faulty laptop computer belonging to a hospital staff member.

Although general anaesthesia was available for the surgery, I did not ask for it. I was curious and wanted to see what was happening. I did not see much except for two bright lights as the good doctor started working on the eye. My other eye was kept under drape. All I saw were flashes of light as some kind of solution was used to irrigate the eye that was being operated on.

It was over in 10 minutes or less. That was all it took the surgeon to make a 2mm diameter cut on the cornea, insert a tool to break down and suck out the cataract, and clean the lens sac before replacing it with a foldable 6mm diameter lens. When it was over, I was given an eye shell to protect the eye and wheeled into the recovery room.

As the nurses wheeled me from the recovery room into the day care ward, I peeped out from the side of the shell and saw my wife waiting there. Sleepless nights and worry had drawn dark circles around her eyes.

All went well, I said. She broke into a smile. It was the prettiest sight I had seen through the new lens.

And I knew then why I was not afraid when the surgeon took the cataract out.

Never compare children's achievement with their peer's

MY youngest daughter enters Form Four today after passing her Penilaian Menengah Rendah (PMR) with As in all her core subjects, including that which many teachers had described as a very tough Chinese paper.
Since her exam in October, she had been worried whether she could get through the Chinese paper.

Her classmates in the same study group were just as jittery before the results were out. Thankfully, all passed with As. One Parent-Teacher Association committee member, who two years ago thought this batch might not do well, told me he had underestimated them.

One parent asked me for the secret of my daughter's success.

I was not sure, I said, but hard work could be one contributor. I do remember her and her elder sister giving up their Facebook for schoolbooks in the run-up to the trial exam.

But as parents, I admit that my wife and I were of little help to our children's studies. We know very little of the subjects they are studying. They have changed so much.

Even History is no longer called Tawarikh but Sejarah, and the topics are different from what I studied decades ago.

With household chores and work taking up much of our time, we were both guilty of not being able to sit down as often as we should have. I felt guilty the most when work kept me away on Sundays. My only offer of compensation for my absence was by getting them the revision books they needed.

When my youngest daughter entered Form Two, many of her classmates had already joined tuition centres to prepare for the PMR. I wanted to enrol her in one although she did not ask for it.

However, my wife and I later decided against it since tuition would take away what's left of her free time. We figured that if she was already doing her homework well and had never missed the extra classes in school, she should be all right.

I think her success came largely from the efforts of her dedicated teachers. They were never tired of giving notes and past-year questions to her and her classmates.

And on our part, we made sure she completed the assignments, paid attention in class, and that she was never afraid to ask questions if she was not satisfied with the answers.

If there is any secret worth sharing, I think it is simply this: never to compare a child's achievement with their siblings or their friends'. It belittles their efforts if the results are not what you expected.

Whenever our girls brought home their report cards when they were in primary school, we often reminded them never to compare their positions in class or their exam scores with their schoolmates' to avoid being overconfident or too disappointed.

Instead, they were told to use the results of their last exams as a benchmark for their progress. We often told them that if they could keep improving themselves, then it doesn't matter who or what they faced. We were not sure if they understood what we meant then. Now I think they do.

Ill-conceived renovations put houseowners' safety at risk

WHEN I first moved into my condo more than 10 years ago, a contractor asked if I wanted to have additional floor space by renovating the air-well.
When I asked him if it was legal, he said since other condo owners were doing it, it should be all right with the law.

The authorities would have to think twice before tearing mine down, he said, because it would be too much hassle for them.


Not only would they have to act in my condo complex but also across the entire Klang Valley. And possibly, even the entire country.




The thought of having additional floor space was tempting, but I told him it would eventually give me sleepless nights.


Putting a floor where it does not belong is courting trouble. Adding load-bearing structures to completed buildings without considering additional stress created on existing beams and steel bars spells danger.

Anyone who had gone to engineering school will tell you that. Besides, air-wells are created to allow proper ventilation. So, I declined the offer.
Recently, this paper carried a story about how Kampung Chempaka residents' penchant for renovation could one day spark a tragedy should a fire break out. If you have read the story, I think you will share my concern, too.

There are many "Kampung Chempaka" around the Klang Valley, of course. From Desa Setapak in Wangsa Maju to Taman Sri Sinar in Segambut.

You will probably know more such places hidden on the fringe of Puchong or Shah Alam where greedy houseowners flaunt their wealth and expose their poor understanding of aesthetics at the same time.

I have seen two-storey low-cost cement-brick houses built in the early 80s that have been today transformed into three-storey bungalows. They stick out like sore thumbs in the neighbourhood. Some are designed like flashy stainless steel fortresses, others have more floors added, and roof gardens.

Corner-lot houses are especially susceptible to renovation, I noticed. Small porch areas are enlarged by claiming public road into one's own and the buffer zone between houses are turned into additional kitchen space.

There is no limit to the renovator's creativity. If you have the cash, some builder out there will be willing to help you turn chicken coops into castles.

Asking if some renovations are legal will make you look stupid, of course. But seeing so many where they should not be makes you wonder about the enforcement of building laws or the lack of it.

Who approves such renovations in the first place?

Do we blame the renovator for his greed, his neighbour for not reporting it to the authorities, or the authorities for their lack of vigilance in monitoring conspicuous illegal renovations or extensions?

And if such renovations contribute to loss of lives, directly or indirectly, whom do we hold responsible?

Low priority given to highrise maintenance

HOW do you compel highrise owners to contribute their share of the maintenance fee, a colleague who lives in a condo asks.
The deterioration of services and facilities she used to enjoy since she bought the property is causing her sleepless nights.

She has learnt that the problems were brought about by the poor payment of maintenance fees.

The management committee of her condo is helpless against the bad paymasters. Slow rubbish collection, lifts that break down frequently, and water in the swimming pool turning milky green are driving her up the wall.

I said she would get used to the conditions over time. I know I did.

My condo's swimming pool was an outdoor fishpond until the conscience of the majority restored it back to its former glory.

The lifts are better looking now although they are still a long way from convincing me to take a ride to the first floor.

But I am thankful that the stairwells are well lit, and the corridors are clean. These days, I only pray that people will stop flinging garbage from their homes into the garbage chutes.

I used to wonder how the maintenance of highrises could be improved, too, but I have given up. The good living in highrises I read about in advertisements is but a fleeting dream. Malaysians are not born for highrise living -- not unless they are made to appreciate the term "common property" and understand the need to pay for the maintenance of common property and facilities for them to run in good condition.

I was hopeful things would change when the Strata Title Act 1985 was amended three years ago and the Building and Common Property (Maintenance and Management) Act 2007 gazetted.

With the creation of a Commissioner of Buildings (COB) to adjudicate problems related to non-payment of maintenance fees and charges, I thought the authorities would enforce the laws related to highrise living. I was wrong.

Very little has changed.

You only need to ask highrise dwellers about their nightmares. No, you don't even need to ask. Just look at the outward appearances of the older flats, apartments and condominiums, and you will see what I mean.

Weathered walls, unmanned security posts, and poor maintenance of the perimeter areas are some of the clues to the financial health of the highrises' coffers.

How do you recover debts from freeloaders against whom the residents' management committees are helpless?

How can the bad paymasters be made to contribute their share of the maintenance fees so that those who pay are not deprived of the facilities? Is the management of highrises in Klang Valley monitored by the COBs or do they merely exist as a requirement by law?

Managing highrises is tough and leaving residents to run it by themselves often lead to failure in a matter of years unless the management body has the means and ways to retrieve bad debts.

Otherwise, it won't be long before apathy rears its ugly head and everything that was once in good condition will go down the drain.

Perhaps my neighbour's suggestion is worth considering: monitor the management of highrises to protect both the property owners and the managers.

If standards are not met, then have the alternative of privatising the management of these residential highrises to a licensed professional property manager equipped with the logistics to manage profitably and provide satisfactory services.

Empower the COB to oversee and enforce the collection of maintenance fee, and raise the collection to the level of efficiency of the Income Tax or the Road Transport departments. If people can pay their income or road taxes without prompting, surely highrise owners can be encouraged to do the same.

In the city where highrise living is becoming a permanent feature, the authorities must take charge to improve the management of highrises so that they do not turn into concrete slums.

Woe betide this generation of pampered job seekers

TODAY's new job seekers have never had it so good, a friend tells me recently. She said many school leavers had been given a headstart most new job seeker in her time did not get. The friend, who owned a headhunting outfit, said she had advertised for junior executives as part of her company's expansion plan and was elated to receive an avalanche of applications.

Most of the candidates had their own transport but what amazed her was that nine out of 10 of those shortlisted not only owned cars but had paid for the vehicles as well.

It was a far cry from what she experienced two decades ago, she said. She had to use her savings to finance her first car by installment. Every month, huge portions of her pay went into servicing loans and maintenance expenses. Thankfully, she was staying with her parents who did not depend entirely on her financial contributions.

I told her she was luckier than those who started working during my time. For those who were required to have their own mode of transport, they could only afford motorcycles.

In the days when the Sunny 130Y or Toyota KE70 ruled the roads, banks were also not as generous with vehicle loans as they are now with the issuance of credit cards. Interest rates were also high.

Even if you had the down payment in hand, you still had to consider if you could afford the monthly installment - and maintenance costs - even though petrol was pretty cheap then by comparison.

Today, if you look around, you will see that most city children already have driving licences by the time they go to college. Some would have driven to school by the time they are in Fifth Form.

One girl I know has been driving to school since she was in Form Four. Her parents had given her one of those mini cars for her sixteenth birthday and she was already a pro behind the wheels before she was of legal age to apply for a driver's licence. Fortunately, she has managed to steer clear of accidents - and the traffic police.

A colleague attributes the phenomenon to kiasu city parents over-pampering their children.

Some buy their children cars by the time they are ready for college. Some put the down payment for the cars and have their children pay for the installments and other costs if the latter has found a job. Richer parents not only service the monthly loans but also pick up the tabs for the vehicle's maintenance.

Perhaps it is not so much of pampering. Families today are smaller and parents who have saved reasonably well are likely to have enough money to buy their children cars by the time they get a job.

While many parents pass their old cars to the children, I wonder how many image-conscious city kids would dare be seen driving their parents' 30-year-old jalopy these days.

With some jobs requiring you to have your own transport and public transport not being entirely reliable, there is very little choice for many.

However, for parents who buy cars for their children without having the latter work hard for their ownership, they may be contributing to their children's hardship later on.

Relieved of the responsibility of paying for the car and its maintenance, who can tell when the young and upwardly mobile will become chained to credit card debts when their parents are forced to cut the apron strings?

Working from home can be a risky business

IN the 1970s, working from home was quite common. In the village in Gombak where I grew up, my sister and I pasted tikam boards for extra pocket money.

Tikam is a game of chance now seldom seen except in shops in the rural areas. It is a large piece of cardboard from which cash or toys hang. At the bottom of the board are rows of paper foils containing numbers. For five sen, you get a pick. If the foil has a number that corresponds with a number on a prize, you win prize. Otherwise, you are given a sweet as compensation. Or nothing.
Pasting tikam boards was monotonous but easy.

We cut the numbers from a sheet of paper and pasted them onto paper foils that were then folded and mounted in neat rows on the main board. For each 144-foil board pasted, we were paid four sen. The earnings - less the cost of tapioca flour used to make starch - were our nett income.

Our neighbours made shopping bags from recycled cement packaging. For each bag measuring a foot by two feet, they were paid one sen. They had to first clean the paper of cement and trim it before it could be folded into bags. The only hazard was breathing in cement dust when the packages were sorted out.

Another family cleaned beer bottles. They were paid four sen for each large bottle; two for a small one. Since their well provided free water and the factory supplied detergent, the cost was only time and effort. The only risk they faced was getting cut by submerged broken bottles.

There were less hazardous moneymaking opportunities, too, I remember. A friend decided to check out one of the ads he saw in the papers one day. It promised a RM50 income a week working from home. My friend took me along to check out the advertiser located in a shopping complex in Bukit Bintang. It turned out to be a typing job for which I had neither the skill nor typewriter. My friend had both, so he got the job.

Having paid RM50 as deposit from which the penalty would be deducted if he failed to meet the delivery deadline, he was given a ream of paper to type sales letters at 50 sen apiece. Within two days he completed the job and was promptly paid RM25.


But at the end of the second week, when he had completed 100 pieces and gone to the office to hand in his work, he had a shock.

A group of disgruntled home workers had gathered in front of the locked office. My friend learnt that the employer had absconded with their deposits days earlier and the job offer was a scam.

When I saw banners on lamp posts advertising between RM500 to RM1,000 for working from home recently, I was reminded of the scam. I wonder if the banners were baiting school leavers waiting for their results and home workers in need of extra cash.

When opportunities are aplenty, I am sure opportunists are never far away.

In Rome, do as Romans do

WHEN a foreigner approached Char Boh and asked for her phone number because he wanted to be her friend, sh e was flabbergasted. When she did not give it to him, the man asked if she had a Facebook account so he could keep in touch. That was when she realised that he had not noticed the ring on her finger.
So she told him she was married, had no time for Facebook, and ignored him completely.

The incident happened when Char Boh was waiting for her daughter at a tuition centre in Jalan Ipoh. When she related her experience over dinner recently, her husband Ang laughed.
He said she should take it as a compliment that she was still attractive in her late 40s.
His remark raised the ire of his wife and fearing that Ang’s favourite fish head curry might end up on his head, I intervened.

With news of Malaysian women becoming drug mules to foreigners after being sweet-talked into friendship, I told Ang, one could never be too careful. Char Boh had done the right thing, I said.

A few years ago, a friend living in a medium-cost apartment in Kepong told me of his experience with foreigners who had moved into his neighbourhood. The area was peaceful until local apartment owners began renting out their premises to foreigners.
Before they knew it, outdoor beer drinking sessions, loud banter that bordered on quarrels and frequent fights had became regular features.

The residents decided that they had had enough when the foreigners teased the local womenfolk.
The locals held a demonstration and made it loud and clear that foreign troublemakers were not welcomed in their neighbourhood. Because of a mischievous few, all foreigners there became the target of nasty remarks.

Worried about the increasing tension between the groups, my friend moved out for the sake of his family’s safety. Are foreigners headed here for long stays briefed on our social etiquette or have they taken the trouble to learn about local sensitivities?

Do they attend orientation sessions like the ones held for foreign maids? I recall seeing on TV3 h ow maids had to undergo classe s to familiarise themselves with Malaysian cultures before even leaving their countries.

Some gestures that are acceptable social practices in a foreign land may be considered kurang ajar in ours – especially when some seem to think that Malaysian women are easy targets.

There are other ways to stay tuned in

MY uncle Seng Chee probably owned the first television set in Kampung Cherong Lanjut in Kuala Terengganu back in the 1960s. Working as a headmaster, he was able to afford the technological luxury that came in the formof a four-legged cabinet with sliding doors that you could lock when not in use. The black-andwhite TV set was a Sharp.

When the TV was brought home, my uncle set it up on the verandah. With his limited technical know-how, he planted the antenna in the garden and I was told to twist it about as he tried tuning in. Our antics drew curious onlookers and word soon spread throughout the village that he had purchased a TV.

A ready audience materialised in the garden soon enough but to their disappointment, and ours, all we had to show was a fuzzy screen and noise. Some smart alecks who had never seen a TV programme speculated on what the fuzz was. Some said it was a snowstorm scene, others said it was a flock of birds taking off.

Only when that was all they had for over an hour did they realise that the TV was not tuned in, and what they were seeing was “snow ”, a technical term used to describe bad reception that I was to be acquainted with in later years.

The following day, a TV man came to mount the antenna on the roof of my uncle’s timber house and we tuned in to our first RTM broadcast — the Roadrunner Show. And before we knew it, the newspaper became more important than ever in the mornings, not only to us but those who had just owned TV sets. Everybody wanted to know what programme was on for the day.

I recall there were lottery “live ” draws, game shows like Ganda Wang Anda, the boring Wrestling from Great Britain, action series like Hawaii-Five-O, and midnight movies.
In the 1980s, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays were much looked forward to when Chinese, Hindi and Malay movies were respectively screened. These were long shows, stretching into midnight and with breaks for news.

For those who had television sets, their living rooms were never short of an audience in the neighbourhood’s children — regardless of race or religion, as I remember. TV ownership became more widespread in later years as the sets got cheaper and larger, and video cassette recorders arrived.

By the time TV programmes were in colour, every home had a TV set or two. If in the past, prosperity was marked by the ownership of a TV set, now it was about how the size and how many sets one owned. Satellite TV came and before long, also took its place as a status symbol.
To have “arrived” was to be able to subscribe to satellite TV. Of course, that was until it got cheaper to own a decoder and subscribe. Nowadays you can’t judge how well-to-do your neighbours are by the satellite dishes peeking out the eaves of their houses.

Last week, a colleague asked me how I managed without subscribing to the satellite TV. I am surprised myself, I said. I think I have my children to thank — they love books more than the idiot box.

I suppose like most people who do not subscribe to satellite TV— or to the need to keep up with their neighbours — I can only say that it’s just mind over matter—if you don’t mind not having satellite TV, it really doesn’t matter.