SO, did you switch off the lights in your house during Earth Hour on Saturday? Mine was off since that morning and was not switched on again until 9.15pm when I got home.
It was a spectacular sight not seeing the lights on major landmarks. At 8.30pm, the KL Tower's lights went off, leaving only a ring of yellow on the circumference of the dome, which made it look like a flying saucer against the night sky. Then, the Petronas Twin Towers went dark from ground up, leaving only the red blinking navigational markers. Other buildings in the area were already not visible, save for their silhouettes.
Some drivers at Lake Titiwangsa stopped their cars along the roads and looked in the direction of the city, trying to identify the buildings from their silhouettes.
Restaurants and stalls also joined in the global effort to cool down Mother Earth.
However, some bikers and motorists switched off their vehicle lights while they were on the road. One chap got flagged down by a policeman for his misplaced enthusiasm.
When I reached home, I was pleasantly surprised that the management of my condominium had already switched off the lights in the common areas. There were no complaints from residents as corridors were plunged into darkness, except for the emergency lights and the lifts.
Usually power shortages would be greeted by collective sighs of exasperation. However, on Saturday night, there were no voices condemning the management committee or Tenaga Nasional. Some families even stayed home that Saturday evening, ate in, and dutifully switched off their lights at the prescribed time.
Curious whether other condominium dwellers were as enthusiastic about Earth Hour, I ran up to the upper floors and looked around. Sparsely-lit houses and condominiums in the vicinity made my heart swell with pride.
It was amazing to see just how many people had switched off their lights. Deep down, I hoped it was not one of those fashionable things people do because others are doing it. I prayed that people who undertook this noble observation would take it beyond the 60 minutes.
Of course, it is not practical to switch off city lights nightly and this would go against the almost-forgotten tagline of Kuala Lumpur as the Garden City of Lights. But think about what it can do for our environment, even for an hour.
Hopefully, in the 60-minute lights-out global effort, we have seen the light and realise the importance of conserving energy use. Maybe it will inspire us to seek other ways to take our conservation efforts beyond the Earth Hour initiative.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Can't tell a duku from dokong? Head to the arboretum
DID you know that durian flowers are edible? Stir-fried with sambal belacan and chillies, they make a good side dish. I didn't know about it until my colleague Lydia told me recently. Apparently it is commonly found in Sarawak, even today.
I am more familiar with pegaga (penny wort), ulam raja (wild cosmos), and pucuk paku (fern shoots) -- the common ulam-ulaman (herbal salads) that used to be part of my family's meal.
Some, we grew ourselves, others could be found at the fringe of the forest. Some plants have medicinal value while others were seasonal indicators -- you know it's a hot season when the lalang flowers, durian and watermelons make an appearance.
If you did not grow up in a village, chances are you would have been deprived of being acquainted with our indigenous flora.
I don't blame the city-born who cannot differentiate between rambai and langsat or duku from dokong.
Some may not even know that the cashew nut is actually a seed and that it grows outside the fruit.
How many of you have seen a buah sentul?
It's about the size of a clenched fist, has thick leathery skin and flesh similar to duku's but is usually sour and fibrous.
You may know where Sentul is but don't even bother looking for the buah within the city limits today.
In fact, even the Gombak durian, especially those for which Simpang Tiga (or Simpang Tigo in Minangkabau) was famous for, have not been spotted for some time now.
Older city durian lovers would remember the days when Gombak durians were in high demand -- long before the idea for the Penang Ang Heh (Hokkien for red shrimp variety) and D24 were even conceived.
The foothills of Mimaland would be packed with durian stalls as city folk converged for the roadside durian feast twice a year.
I wish we could plant more local fruit trees or herbs in the city -- if not on the road sides then at parks.
Hardy trees like rambai, mangosteens or even mangoes can be considered for parks. Fragrant herbs like serai (lemongrass), lengkuas (galangal) or kunyit (turmeric) make lovely bushes on road shoulders or dividers.
Of course, it would be foolhardy to grow a durian tree anywhere near civilisation because of the unpredictability of falling fruits.
But mangosteens, buah sentul or even cashew trees would do little harm and are better than yellow flames or the brittle angsana.
Today, if you want to look for a particular fruit, you would have to wait for it to be in season to find it at the hawker stalls, and some are not even homegrown.
Otherwise, you may have to visit the arboretum at the Forest Research Institute Malaysia.
And if you can't find them there, like the rarer buah keranji (velvet tamarind) or buah belinjau (gnetum gnemon), you may have to drive to the less developed parts of the country.
I am more familiar with pegaga (penny wort), ulam raja (wild cosmos), and pucuk paku (fern shoots) -- the common ulam-ulaman (herbal salads) that used to be part of my family's meal.
Some, we grew ourselves, others could be found at the fringe of the forest. Some plants have medicinal value while others were seasonal indicators -- you know it's a hot season when the lalang flowers, durian and watermelons make an appearance.
If you did not grow up in a village, chances are you would have been deprived of being acquainted with our indigenous flora.
I don't blame the city-born who cannot differentiate between rambai and langsat or duku from dokong.
Some may not even know that the cashew nut is actually a seed and that it grows outside the fruit.
How many of you have seen a buah sentul?
It's about the size of a clenched fist, has thick leathery skin and flesh similar to duku's but is usually sour and fibrous.
You may know where Sentul is but don't even bother looking for the buah within the city limits today.
In fact, even the Gombak durian, especially those for which Simpang Tiga (or Simpang Tigo in Minangkabau) was famous for, have not been spotted for some time now.
Older city durian lovers would remember the days when Gombak durians were in high demand -- long before the idea for the Penang Ang Heh (Hokkien for red shrimp variety) and D24 were even conceived.
The foothills of Mimaland would be packed with durian stalls as city folk converged for the roadside durian feast twice a year.
I wish we could plant more local fruit trees or herbs in the city -- if not on the road sides then at parks.
Hardy trees like rambai, mangosteens or even mangoes can be considered for parks. Fragrant herbs like serai (lemongrass), lengkuas (galangal) or kunyit (turmeric) make lovely bushes on road shoulders or dividers.
Of course, it would be foolhardy to grow a durian tree anywhere near civilisation because of the unpredictability of falling fruits.
But mangosteens, buah sentul or even cashew trees would do little harm and are better than yellow flames or the brittle angsana.
Today, if you want to look for a particular fruit, you would have to wait for it to be in season to find it at the hawker stalls, and some are not even homegrown.
Otherwise, you may have to visit the arboretum at the Forest Research Institute Malaysia.
And if you can't find them there, like the rarer buah keranji (velvet tamarind) or buah belinjau (gnetum gnemon), you may have to drive to the less developed parts of the country.
Monday, March 16, 2009
The good, the bad and the ugly of motorbike riding in city
BACK in the 1970s, having a motorcycle licence was every boy's dream before leaving secondary school. An "L" was enough to earn the envy of your peers but a full licence would impress your older friends even more.
Licence ownership put you among those who had "arrived" -- although where you were going then depended heavily on your dad's permission, especially where taking off on his Honda Cub C50 was concerned.
If you had a valid motorcycle licence, you could work as a peon or a delivery boy while waiting for your Lower Certificate of Education or Malaysian Certificate of Education results.
You could then gain some financial freedom and inch nearer to the greater dreams in your life, like buying your own motorcycle, for instance.
It is not hard to understand why motorcycles are popular even today, especially among the lower income group. It is cheaper to own than a car, cost much less to run, easy to park and can get you through the thickest of traffic jams. These two wheelers are definitely built for a concrete jungle like Kuala Lumpur.
Lately, the city's womenfolk have also found it very practical to ride motorcycles. In fact, they have turned riding into poetry in motion as they zip full-throttle through jams in flowing blouses and high heels -- of course, with their make-up well protected by their full-face helmets.
Some of these female bikers beat the best men on the road. They don't seem to care for their safety nor pay heed to the traffic cameras.
Swerve into their paths and be prepared to be on the receiving end of a very nasty sign language.
God help you if you get involved in an accident with a motorcyclist, be it man or woman.
Rest assured you will be quickly acquainted with their brotherhood, especially the helmet-wielding hoods, who are ready to make mince meat out of you.
There is a solidarity that exists between bikers. If one is involved in an accident, others will be all too willing to help, unlike car drivers, who, in events of similar nature, would only be interested in your car registration plate number, especially if anyone died.
Survivors of close encounters with biking mobs have advised self-restraint and economy of words -- don't argue with them unless you have a death wish.
In its ugliest form, errant bikers take the shape of the Mat Rempit, the mini version of the Western hell biker.
What these Malaysian bikers lack in size in machines, they make up with noise and numbers. You spot them from a mile away, a noisy convoy bent on making fools of themselves and terrorising others.
And some even take hooliganism to a whole new level by "graduating" into snatch thieves. Having not had much success in dealing with the menace, city authorities are now mulling the possibility of prohibiting motorcycles from certain streets.
Victims of biker rage will welcome this proposal by the police.
Car drivers, too, will heave a sigh of relief with one less potential roadkill to avoid.
Should it be implemented by City Hall, pedestrians would also be able to enjoy a walk in the city's streets without having to hold on tight to their belongings each time a motorcycle approaches.
As for me, I am just keeping my fingers crossed that the snatch thieves will not go on foot and that city roads are wide enough for more cars should bikers now find more reason to switch their mode of transport.
Licence ownership put you among those who had "arrived" -- although where you were going then depended heavily on your dad's permission, especially where taking off on his Honda Cub C50 was concerned.
If you had a valid motorcycle licence, you could work as a peon or a delivery boy while waiting for your Lower Certificate of Education or Malaysian Certificate of Education results.
You could then gain some financial freedom and inch nearer to the greater dreams in your life, like buying your own motorcycle, for instance.
It is not hard to understand why motorcycles are popular even today, especially among the lower income group. It is cheaper to own than a car, cost much less to run, easy to park and can get you through the thickest of traffic jams. These two wheelers are definitely built for a concrete jungle like Kuala Lumpur.
Lately, the city's womenfolk have also found it very practical to ride motorcycles. In fact, they have turned riding into poetry in motion as they zip full-throttle through jams in flowing blouses and high heels -- of course, with their make-up well protected by their full-face helmets.
Some of these female bikers beat the best men on the road. They don't seem to care for their safety nor pay heed to the traffic cameras.
Swerve into their paths and be prepared to be on the receiving end of a very nasty sign language.
God help you if you get involved in an accident with a motorcyclist, be it man or woman.
Rest assured you will be quickly acquainted with their brotherhood, especially the helmet-wielding hoods, who are ready to make mince meat out of you.
There is a solidarity that exists between bikers. If one is involved in an accident, others will be all too willing to help, unlike car drivers, who, in events of similar nature, would only be interested in your car registration plate number, especially if anyone died.
Survivors of close encounters with biking mobs have advised self-restraint and economy of words -- don't argue with them unless you have a death wish.
In its ugliest form, errant bikers take the shape of the Mat Rempit, the mini version of the Western hell biker.
What these Malaysian bikers lack in size in machines, they make up with noise and numbers. You spot them from a mile away, a noisy convoy bent on making fools of themselves and terrorising others.
And some even take hooliganism to a whole new level by "graduating" into snatch thieves. Having not had much success in dealing with the menace, city authorities are now mulling the possibility of prohibiting motorcycles from certain streets.
Victims of biker rage will welcome this proposal by the police.
Car drivers, too, will heave a sigh of relief with one less potential roadkill to avoid.
Should it be implemented by City Hall, pedestrians would also be able to enjoy a walk in the city's streets without having to hold on tight to their belongings each time a motorcycle approaches.
As for me, I am just keeping my fingers crossed that the snatch thieves will not go on foot and that city roads are wide enough for more cars should bikers now find more reason to switch their mode of transport.
Monday, March 9, 2009
A little wiser after lessons learnt from the floods last week
WERE you caught in the great floods of March 3? Consider yourself lucky if you were not among the thousands stranded in the city that evening. Consider yourself even luckier if you were not in the floodwaters in Jalan Ipoh, sitting on your car roof waiting to be rescued.
But if you had been stuck in the jam later that night like I was, you are now likely to be a little wiser in hindsight and realise that in each adversity, there are lessons to be learnt.
For me, I have learnt not to leave the office immediately after a downpour and never, ever, park my car in any basement car park within smelling distance of the Klang and Gombak rivers.
I have also learnt that it is pointless to try to outsmart those stuck in jams by seeking out lanes of moving traffic. Underestimate their collective intelligence and you will end up -- like I did -- circumnavigating the city looking for a shortcut from Bangsar to Gombak only to return to the starting point two hours later and half a tank of petrol short.
Instead, you should quietly join the queue like everyone else and do not get angry or frustrated by the actions of the smarter few who used pavements and bus lanes to forge ahead.
I will also not rely on electronic signboards, especially those with ambiguous messages like "Trafik Perlahan di Lebuhraya Mahameru-Tun Razak. Kelewatan Di Jangka" (Slow traffic at Mahameru-Tun Razak expressway, delay expected), especially when traffic in most parts of the city was already at a standstill.
There is also a lesson in humility to be learnt when stuck in flood-induced jams. It doesn't matter two hoots whether you drive a RM250,000 speedster or a RM2,500 boneshaker for which you could claim twice its worth in rebates soon. Behind the wheel in knee-deep floodwater, all men (and women) are treated equal.
I will, from now, be more forgiving towards those who promised to alleviate flash floods in the capital city because although the promises sound good, very little could be done in reality -- be it cleaning the drains, building retention ponds or deepening the rivers.
The same issues will probably be raised again during the floods next March and when the time comes, we can conveniently look skywards and once again call it an act of God.
But if you had been stuck in the jam later that night like I was, you are now likely to be a little wiser in hindsight and realise that in each adversity, there are lessons to be learnt.
For me, I have learnt not to leave the office immediately after a downpour and never, ever, park my car in any basement car park within smelling distance of the Klang and Gombak rivers.
I have also learnt that it is pointless to try to outsmart those stuck in jams by seeking out lanes of moving traffic. Underestimate their collective intelligence and you will end up -- like I did -- circumnavigating the city looking for a shortcut from Bangsar to Gombak only to return to the starting point two hours later and half a tank of petrol short.
Instead, you should quietly join the queue like everyone else and do not get angry or frustrated by the actions of the smarter few who used pavements and bus lanes to forge ahead.
I will also not rely on electronic signboards, especially those with ambiguous messages like "Trafik Perlahan di Lebuhraya Mahameru-Tun Razak. Kelewatan Di Jangka" (Slow traffic at Mahameru-Tun Razak expressway, delay expected), especially when traffic in most parts of the city was already at a standstill.
There is also a lesson in humility to be learnt when stuck in flood-induced jams. It doesn't matter two hoots whether you drive a RM250,000 speedster or a RM2,500 boneshaker for which you could claim twice its worth in rebates soon. Behind the wheel in knee-deep floodwater, all men (and women) are treated equal.
I will, from now, be more forgiving towards those who promised to alleviate flash floods in the capital city because although the promises sound good, very little could be done in reality -- be it cleaning the drains, building retention ponds or deepening the rivers.
The same issues will probably be raised again during the floods next March and when the time comes, we can conveniently look skywards and once again call it an act of God.
Monday, March 2, 2009
You can track crime hotspots online, too
IT’S great to know that crime hotspots in Petaling Jaya will be tracked using a software the Petaling Jaya city council has presented to the police last week.
What the system does, if I understand it correctly, is to compile the crime records in the area and mark them on a map. From here, the frequency, type of crime and other details will help the crime busters do an even better job.
Hopefully, the news would inspire other local councils in the Klang Valley such as Ampang Jaya, Subang Jaya and Kuala Lumpur to do the same and make not only their areas safe but the entire Klang Valley as well.
While it may not be possible to buy a similarly sophisticated system, other councils which hope to do the same need not despair. They can turn to the Internet and come up with similarly useful crime watch tools, too.
I am talking about Google Maps and Google Earth — two mapping applications that have been around for some time. They have been used by Internet users to mark anything from their own addresses to places of interest in the neighbourhood.
The good thing about these applications is that they are free, easy to use and allows collaboration — more than one person can contribute to the project, in this case, the neighbourhood crime watch, which can be a collective effort by both the police force and the public living in the area.
Crime spots can be marked on the virtual maps by just about anyone who has a Google account.
Short notes and photographs of the crime prone areas can be posted and updated, too.
Even videos can be embedded if so wished although I am not sure if “live” video streaming is possible to take feeds from CCTVs.
Setting it up is as easy as registering for an account and learning how to use the Internet-based application is as simple as checking out the frequently asked questions on site.
Of course, these free applications cannot offer the bells and whistles of a commercially-produced software, like drawing up past crime records for a specific area, or zooming down to ground zero where crime has taken place.
But as neighbourhood crime watch tools, they will serve their primary purpose of alerting both the public and the authorities to crime prone areas.
What the system does, if I understand it correctly, is to compile the crime records in the area and mark them on a map. From here, the frequency, type of crime and other details will help the crime busters do an even better job.
Hopefully, the news would inspire other local councils in the Klang Valley such as Ampang Jaya, Subang Jaya and Kuala Lumpur to do the same and make not only their areas safe but the entire Klang Valley as well.
While it may not be possible to buy a similarly sophisticated system, other councils which hope to do the same need not despair. They can turn to the Internet and come up with similarly useful crime watch tools, too.
I am talking about Google Maps and Google Earth — two mapping applications that have been around for some time. They have been used by Internet users to mark anything from their own addresses to places of interest in the neighbourhood.
The good thing about these applications is that they are free, easy to use and allows collaboration — more than one person can contribute to the project, in this case, the neighbourhood crime watch, which can be a collective effort by both the police force and the public living in the area.
Crime spots can be marked on the virtual maps by just about anyone who has a Google account.
Short notes and photographs of the crime prone areas can be posted and updated, too.
Even videos can be embedded if so wished although I am not sure if “live” video streaming is possible to take feeds from CCTVs.
Setting it up is as easy as registering for an account and learning how to use the Internet-based application is as simple as checking out the frequently asked questions on site.
Of course, these free applications cannot offer the bells and whistles of a commercially-produced software, like drawing up past crime records for a specific area, or zooming down to ground zero where crime has taken place.
But as neighbourhood crime watch tools, they will serve their primary purpose of alerting both the public and the authorities to crime prone areas.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Heart-wrenching stories of housebuyers
I SYMPATHISE with the plight of Taman Sri Manja residents in Old Klang Road, whose houses are sinking. Reading their story recently reminded me of the predicament faced by my father-in-law in Malacca 15 years ago, although on a lesser scale.
The poor man had used his savings to buy his dream home. However, unknown to him, the house was built on swamp land and six months after he moved in, the foundation began to sink. Another six months down the road, cracks started to appear on the walls and soon, some of the gaps were large enough to allow one's hand to slip through.
Although the house was considered safe because the beams did not show signs of impending failure, my father-in-law and his neighbours knew that the developer had not been entirely honest with them. Patching up was done at the developer's whim and fancy, and before long, two years had passed and the liability period during which developers were required to undertake any remedial measure for free had ended.
My father-in-law has since accepted his bad luck and continues to live in the house, occasionally reminded of the mental anguish he had to live with when guests asked about the partially patched-up cracks which bore grim reminders of his encounter with a bad developer.
News about house buyers being given the short end of the stick is not new. The path to successful house purchase is littered with even more heart-wrenching stories of deals gone sour. Some of the luckier ones only have to deal with poor aesthetics but the not-so-lucky ones end up with a lifetime of problems -- or until they manage to sell the property to an unsuspecting secondhand buyer.
The unluckiest ones are those who have no choice but to live with the nightmare for the rest of their lives. This is because more often than not, they have spent their entire savings on what was supposed to be their dream homes.
The guidelines for successful house ownership are simple: check the developer's reputation and track record and don't be taken in by sweet sales talk. But really, is there any guarantee that cunning will not outwit intelligence and you will not end up with a lemon after all the trouble?
If you remember, back in the mid 1990s, the frenzy of house ownership had driven property prices sky high and everyone who had any opinion would tell anyone who would listen that one should live far away from the city to avoid traffic jams and to get better value for the shrinking ringgit.
Droves of sensible people made a beeline for the new townships north of Kuala Lumpur. Houses were unbelievably cheap and at that time, it appeared quite logical to live away from the city centre, after all there is a highway which connects the townships with the city and it shouldn't take more than 30 minutes' leisurely drive to get to work and home daily.
What the careful buyers forgot to figure out then was that fuel prices would go up one day, and so would toll charges. And when the combined expenses amounted to a huge chunk of their salaries, many realised that it was wiser to stay put in the city.
The glossy townships painted in the developers' colourful advertisements are today sparsely populated urban outbacks. Some of the housebuyers were careful people like you and I. But in the end, they end up paying for the bank loans and maintenance fees for a place that they no longer want.
The poor man had used his savings to buy his dream home. However, unknown to him, the house was built on swamp land and six months after he moved in, the foundation began to sink. Another six months down the road, cracks started to appear on the walls and soon, some of the gaps were large enough to allow one's hand to slip through.
Although the house was considered safe because the beams did not show signs of impending failure, my father-in-law and his neighbours knew that the developer had not been entirely honest with them. Patching up was done at the developer's whim and fancy, and before long, two years had passed and the liability period during which developers were required to undertake any remedial measure for free had ended.
My father-in-law has since accepted his bad luck and continues to live in the house, occasionally reminded of the mental anguish he had to live with when guests asked about the partially patched-up cracks which bore grim reminders of his encounter with a bad developer.
News about house buyers being given the short end of the stick is not new. The path to successful house purchase is littered with even more heart-wrenching stories of deals gone sour. Some of the luckier ones only have to deal with poor aesthetics but the not-so-lucky ones end up with a lifetime of problems -- or until they manage to sell the property to an unsuspecting secondhand buyer.
The unluckiest ones are those who have no choice but to live with the nightmare for the rest of their lives. This is because more often than not, they have spent their entire savings on what was supposed to be their dream homes.
The guidelines for successful house ownership are simple: check the developer's reputation and track record and don't be taken in by sweet sales talk. But really, is there any guarantee that cunning will not outwit intelligence and you will not end up with a lemon after all the trouble?
If you remember, back in the mid 1990s, the frenzy of house ownership had driven property prices sky high and everyone who had any opinion would tell anyone who would listen that one should live far away from the city to avoid traffic jams and to get better value for the shrinking ringgit.
Droves of sensible people made a beeline for the new townships north of Kuala Lumpur. Houses were unbelievably cheap and at that time, it appeared quite logical to live away from the city centre, after all there is a highway which connects the townships with the city and it shouldn't take more than 30 minutes' leisurely drive to get to work and home daily.
What the careful buyers forgot to figure out then was that fuel prices would go up one day, and so would toll charges. And when the combined expenses amounted to a huge chunk of their salaries, many realised that it was wiser to stay put in the city.
The glossy townships painted in the developers' colourful advertisements are today sparsely populated urban outbacks. Some of the housebuyers were careful people like you and I. But in the end, they end up paying for the bank loans and maintenance fees for a place that they no longer want.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Paying more for less in the city
HOW much does it cost to get by in Kuala Lumpur these days? When life was less complicated two-and-a-half decades ago, rooms cost about RM70 a month on the fringe of the city -- unfurnished, except for a table, a chair, and maybe, a thermos flask. No beds -- you just use your own two-inch thick tilam (foam mattress) which you got from the pasar malam for RM15. Furnished rooms, with bed, table and study light cost about three times more back then.
Breakfast was only about 90 sen -- 40 sen for a roti canai kosong and 50 sen for a glass of teh tarik. A budget of RM1.60 will get you a modest two vegetables and one meat chap fun (mixed rice) for lunch. Iced Chinese tea or suet char costs only 10 sen. Some stalls even throw in free tea but usually by the time you got there, the dishes would be all gone.
Dinner cost about the same and if it were the end of the month and the paycheque was nowhere in sight, two roti canai kosong downed with ais kosong (iced tap water) would usually be sufficient to fill a growling belly.
Transport cost about RM1.50 a day then, if you take two buses to work and about RM3 a week on petrol if you go on your Honda cub like the wiser among us did.
For about RM450 a month, you could survive in the city. You spend about RM250 on food monthly, RM70 on board and lodging, and about RM50 for transportation. You could still send home about RM50 every month to your family. Heck, if you know how to save, you could even have a bare-bones treat at the cinema once a fortnight.
Of course, you would have to do your own laundry, join the queue to see the doctor at the Klinik Kerajaan if medical treatment is not included in your job offer, and for entertainment, you would have to depend on your landlady's television set -- if you pay your rent on time, that is.
Today, despite earning three times what you earned two-and-a-half decades ago, it is still not enough to make ends meet. Rooms go for between RM600 and RM800 unfurnished, 50 per cent more if furnished, and more if you choose to live anywhere near upper class suburbs like Bangsar. There are cheaper areas, of course, but only if you don't mind the rowdy neighbourhood or longer travel distance to work.
Food can easily set you back RM20 a day. Nescafe tarik costs RM1.60 and roti canai RM1.20. Even the price of nasi campur has leapt to about RM4 for a two-vegetable, one-meat set. Some places even charge for iced tap water -- 30 sen or more depending on the location. And we have not even factored in transport costs yet or cigarettes, if you smoke.
A salary of a thousand ringgit today will probably take you only a quarter of the distance which it got us in those days, and much less if your expectations are higher than what your pockets permit.
It's tough living in the city, but not impossible. The streets, at a glance, may not be paved with gold but there are precious nuggets if you know where to look.
Being frugal, not trying to keep up with Ali, Ah Kow or Ramasamy, and tailoring your needs to the size of your pockets can stretch your ringgit pretty far. Of course, working hard helps, too.
Breakfast was only about 90 sen -- 40 sen for a roti canai kosong and 50 sen for a glass of teh tarik. A budget of RM1.60 will get you a modest two vegetables and one meat chap fun (mixed rice) for lunch. Iced Chinese tea or suet char costs only 10 sen. Some stalls even throw in free tea but usually by the time you got there, the dishes would be all gone.
Dinner cost about the same and if it were the end of the month and the paycheque was nowhere in sight, two roti canai kosong downed with ais kosong (iced tap water) would usually be sufficient to fill a growling belly.
Transport cost about RM1.50 a day then, if you take two buses to work and about RM3 a week on petrol if you go on your Honda cub like the wiser among us did.
For about RM450 a month, you could survive in the city. You spend about RM250 on food monthly, RM70 on board and lodging, and about RM50 for transportation. You could still send home about RM50 every month to your family. Heck, if you know how to save, you could even have a bare-bones treat at the cinema once a fortnight.
Of course, you would have to do your own laundry, join the queue to see the doctor at the Klinik Kerajaan if medical treatment is not included in your job offer, and for entertainment, you would have to depend on your landlady's television set -- if you pay your rent on time, that is.
Today, despite earning three times what you earned two-and-a-half decades ago, it is still not enough to make ends meet. Rooms go for between RM600 and RM800 unfurnished, 50 per cent more if furnished, and more if you choose to live anywhere near upper class suburbs like Bangsar. There are cheaper areas, of course, but only if you don't mind the rowdy neighbourhood or longer travel distance to work.
Food can easily set you back RM20 a day. Nescafe tarik costs RM1.60 and roti canai RM1.20. Even the price of nasi campur has leapt to about RM4 for a two-vegetable, one-meat set. Some places even charge for iced tap water -- 30 sen or more depending on the location. And we have not even factored in transport costs yet or cigarettes, if you smoke.
A salary of a thousand ringgit today will probably take you only a quarter of the distance which it got us in those days, and much less if your expectations are higher than what your pockets permit.
It's tough living in the city, but not impossible. The streets, at a glance, may not be paved with gold but there are precious nuggets if you know where to look.
Being frugal, not trying to keep up with Ali, Ah Kow or Ramasamy, and tailoring your needs to the size of your pockets can stretch your ringgit pretty far. Of course, working hard helps, too.
Monday, February 9, 2009
More has to be done to fight an old enemy
ARE you concerned about the aedes scourge? You should be, especially if you live on the fringes of Kuala Lumpur, such as in Old Klang Road, Ampang, Gombak or even Sentul, where illegal factories, squatter areas, construction sites and dirty hawker centres are the norm.
A few weeks ago, Health Minister Datuk Liow Tiong Lai released these worrisome numbers -- 4,221 dengue cases with 12 fatalities were reported from Jan 1 to 23. The figure was almost double the 2,153 cases and five deaths recorded during the same period last year.
The majority of cases happened in the Klang Valley, with Kuala Lumpur recording 409 cases and two deaths in the first three weeks of this month, compared to only 270 cases for the same period last year.
As usual, the public has been told be on the alert and to take measures to keep aedes at bay, etc, you know, the usual drill when there is not much left to say.
The dengue scourge is not new. Go through the newspaper archives and you will find enough reports to make a book. And in most of the stories, the faceless Joe and Jill Public have been blamed for the scourge's continuance and told to be more responsible. I couldn't agree more -- dirty people breed diseases.
I do consider myself a responsible member of the public. Where I live, the management of the condominium frequently carries out fogging.
I am sure other condominium managers do the same -- it is immaterial whether it is done out of duty, a guilty conscience or required by law.
But while we, the members of the public, are trying hard to keep our compounds aedes-free, barely a shouting distance away, illegal factories and dirty hawker stalls are happily raking in the money with nary a care for their surroundings. They are not bothered if their surroundings are clean, waterlogged, or close to becoming an open garbage dump that not only breeds aedes but is also home to disease-carrying rodents and other pests.
I can, of course, initiate a gotong- royong every alternate day of the week, get my fellow condo dwellers to clean up every inch of our compound. We could, as humanly possible, even clean up the entire one-kilometre radius around our homes.
Heck, if we have the time, we might even give the roadside pebbles a good scrub and the rusty lamp-posts a polish so they gleam with pride.
But then, wouldn't that be running council workers out of their jobs -- which we are paying for through the payment of assessment, quit rent and other taxes?
These are the people who are supposed to make sure garbage is not indiscriminately dumped and become aedes breeding grounds. They are also supposed to catch the culprits and mete out the harshest punishment permitted by law.
They are also supposed to be patrolling the city and making sure that no illegal factories are set up, or to demolish existing ones.
And then, there are the council's health department officers who are attached to the vector-borne diseases unit. These officers should not only be monitoring outbreaks of dengue but they should also identify the patterns of periodic returns and take measures before the disease hits us.
Of course, the dirty public should also not be spared. If caught breeding mosquitoes, they should be fined or even face sterner action.
All these are necessary if we want to ensure our city is dengue-free.
Meanwhile, my friend Dr Loo has warned of another aedes-related threat -- chikugunya.
Transmitted by the aedes mosquitoes, it is believed to have originated in the African and Indian subcontinent. Chikugunya did not emerge until the mid-2000s. Some observers believed that it was brought in by infected travellers.
I am just keeping my fingers crossed that it will not be as widespread as dengue for when it does, I shall not hesitate to pin the blame on the public servants -- those people at the Health Ministry, Immigration checkpoints and City Hall.
A few weeks ago, Health Minister Datuk Liow Tiong Lai released these worrisome numbers -- 4,221 dengue cases with 12 fatalities were reported from Jan 1 to 23. The figure was almost double the 2,153 cases and five deaths recorded during the same period last year.
The majority of cases happened in the Klang Valley, with Kuala Lumpur recording 409 cases and two deaths in the first three weeks of this month, compared to only 270 cases for the same period last year.
As usual, the public has been told be on the alert and to take measures to keep aedes at bay, etc, you know, the usual drill when there is not much left to say.
The dengue scourge is not new. Go through the newspaper archives and you will find enough reports to make a book. And in most of the stories, the faceless Joe and Jill Public have been blamed for the scourge's continuance and told to be more responsible. I couldn't agree more -- dirty people breed diseases.
I do consider myself a responsible member of the public. Where I live, the management of the condominium frequently carries out fogging.
I am sure other condominium managers do the same -- it is immaterial whether it is done out of duty, a guilty conscience or required by law.
But while we, the members of the public, are trying hard to keep our compounds aedes-free, barely a shouting distance away, illegal factories and dirty hawker stalls are happily raking in the money with nary a care for their surroundings. They are not bothered if their surroundings are clean, waterlogged, or close to becoming an open garbage dump that not only breeds aedes but is also home to disease-carrying rodents and other pests.
I can, of course, initiate a gotong- royong every alternate day of the week, get my fellow condo dwellers to clean up every inch of our compound. We could, as humanly possible, even clean up the entire one-kilometre radius around our homes.
Heck, if we have the time, we might even give the roadside pebbles a good scrub and the rusty lamp-posts a polish so they gleam with pride.
But then, wouldn't that be running council workers out of their jobs -- which we are paying for through the payment of assessment, quit rent and other taxes?
These are the people who are supposed to make sure garbage is not indiscriminately dumped and become aedes breeding grounds. They are also supposed to catch the culprits and mete out the harshest punishment permitted by law.
They are also supposed to be patrolling the city and making sure that no illegal factories are set up, or to demolish existing ones.
And then, there are the council's health department officers who are attached to the vector-borne diseases unit. These officers should not only be monitoring outbreaks of dengue but they should also identify the patterns of periodic returns and take measures before the disease hits us.
Of course, the dirty public should also not be spared. If caught breeding mosquitoes, they should be fined or even face sterner action.
All these are necessary if we want to ensure our city is dengue-free.
Meanwhile, my friend Dr Loo has warned of another aedes-related threat -- chikugunya.
Transmitted by the aedes mosquitoes, it is believed to have originated in the African and Indian subcontinent. Chikugunya did not emerge until the mid-2000s. Some observers believed that it was brought in by infected travellers.
I am just keeping my fingers crossed that it will not be as widespread as dengue for when it does, I shall not hesitate to pin the blame on the public servants -- those people at the Health Ministry, Immigration checkpoints and City Hall.
Monday, February 2, 2009
KLites -- warts and all
KUALA LUMPUR celebrated its 35th year as a federal territory yesterday. It was also its 37th anniversary as a city. The "muddy confluence" that marked the meeting of the Gombak and Klang rivers has certainly come a long way since its days as a miners' trading post.
Old timers will remember the hostage-taking drama by the Japanese Red Army at the AIA building in Jalan Ampang in August 1975 in exchange for the release of five of their imprisoned comrades. And also a soldier's shooting spree in Kampung Baru a decade later. Or the public protests of the 1990s that spilled into the new millennium and which sent shivers down the spines of those who had lived through the horrors of May 1969 and whose fears were rekindled each time there was a public demonstration - whether it was peaceful or not.
You will also recall, albeit with much amusement now, how we dealt with the "social menaces" of the 1980s when the skateboarding, breakdancing and BMX craze blazed through the city's sidewalks. Self-appointed guardians of public morality promptly blamed "western influences", urging the authorities to act before decadence turned our youths into permanent sidewalk residents.
But of course, nothing happened -- those fads faded away, just like many before them did; remember bellbottoms and miniskirts?
When commuting became more difficult in the mid 1970s, mini buses were a welcomed respite. However, their drivers' death-defying antics, bullying tactics and penchant for breaking every traffic rule in the book saw the pink terrors taken off the streets in the late '90s and left regulars to mourn their passing.
We had our share of urban legends, too. Remember the orang minyak (oily man) of the '70s - the black arts apprentice who was cursed to become an oily humanoid and could become human again if he had 21 virgins? At a time when kerosene lamps still lit parts of the city outskirts, it was a hot topic at morning markets. And yes, hantu kum kum also had her fair share of fame several years down the road. But as it turned out, the tale was a cruel joke played on a homeless old lady who had to earn a living selling socks door-to-door rather than the child-kidnapping witch someone made her out to be.
KL had its moments under the world's spotlight, too, in the many "put KL on the world map" events held since its formative years.
Among them were the first PATA conference in 1972, Commonwealth Heads of Government (CHOGM) meeting in 1989 and the Commonwealth Games in 1998. Remember how council workers feverishly spruced up the city with "instant" trees and shrubs? And how unappealing sections of the city were hastily hoarded up from view?
Most of us who still remember can smile at how much we had gone through to have come this far. There were some shortcomings but then there were also achievements that we can take pride in.
Our city's skyline today is as much our bragging right as is our latest shopping mall if architectural accomplishments and amenities are the yardsticks one uses to measure a modern city with. If connectivity is the benchmark, then rest assured that KL is well connected. Just sniff the air for WiFi or Wimax and chances are that you will catch some, easier than you would a cold.
But I think KL's greatest asset is its people, fondly known as KLites, a term collectively used to describe those who call this city home.
You see them in the mornings at mamak stalls and you fight with them for tables at hawker centres at lunch. You bump into them again after work as you try to stop their flashy cars from cutting into your lane.
You stumble upon the same cars again later in the night, happily double-parked near your neighbourhood watering hole, with their drivers blissfully missing.
If you are new to the city, you will learn to get used to the idiosyncrasies of its people, warts and all. Some of them are nice and helpful, others ignorant and opportunistic; some are friendly, others hopelessly arrogant. Some are rich, some are poor -- chances are that neither will let you know.
KLites irritate you like hell sometimes but if none of them were around, such as during festive breaks like this, city life would not be the same -- unless of course you speak and understand Nepalese, Indonesian, Tagalog or Burmese.
Old timers will remember the hostage-taking drama by the Japanese Red Army at the AIA building in Jalan Ampang in August 1975 in exchange for the release of five of their imprisoned comrades. And also a soldier's shooting spree in Kampung Baru a decade later. Or the public protests of the 1990s that spilled into the new millennium and which sent shivers down the spines of those who had lived through the horrors of May 1969 and whose fears were rekindled each time there was a public demonstration - whether it was peaceful or not.
You will also recall, albeit with much amusement now, how we dealt with the "social menaces" of the 1980s when the skateboarding, breakdancing and BMX craze blazed through the city's sidewalks. Self-appointed guardians of public morality promptly blamed "western influences", urging the authorities to act before decadence turned our youths into permanent sidewalk residents.
But of course, nothing happened -- those fads faded away, just like many before them did; remember bellbottoms and miniskirts?
When commuting became more difficult in the mid 1970s, mini buses were a welcomed respite. However, their drivers' death-defying antics, bullying tactics and penchant for breaking every traffic rule in the book saw the pink terrors taken off the streets in the late '90s and left regulars to mourn their passing.
We had our share of urban legends, too. Remember the orang minyak (oily man) of the '70s - the black arts apprentice who was cursed to become an oily humanoid and could become human again if he had 21 virgins? At a time when kerosene lamps still lit parts of the city outskirts, it was a hot topic at morning markets. And yes, hantu kum kum also had her fair share of fame several years down the road. But as it turned out, the tale was a cruel joke played on a homeless old lady who had to earn a living selling socks door-to-door rather than the child-kidnapping witch someone made her out to be.
KL had its moments under the world's spotlight, too, in the many "put KL on the world map" events held since its formative years.
Among them were the first PATA conference in 1972, Commonwealth Heads of Government (CHOGM) meeting in 1989 and the Commonwealth Games in 1998. Remember how council workers feverishly spruced up the city with "instant" trees and shrubs? And how unappealing sections of the city were hastily hoarded up from view?
Most of us who still remember can smile at how much we had gone through to have come this far. There were some shortcomings but then there were also achievements that we can take pride in.
Our city's skyline today is as much our bragging right as is our latest shopping mall if architectural accomplishments and amenities are the yardsticks one uses to measure a modern city with. If connectivity is the benchmark, then rest assured that KL is well connected. Just sniff the air for WiFi or Wimax and chances are that you will catch some, easier than you would a cold.
But I think KL's greatest asset is its people, fondly known as KLites, a term collectively used to describe those who call this city home.
You see them in the mornings at mamak stalls and you fight with them for tables at hawker centres at lunch. You bump into them again after work as you try to stop their flashy cars from cutting into your lane.
You stumble upon the same cars again later in the night, happily double-parked near your neighbourhood watering hole, with their drivers blissfully missing.
If you are new to the city, you will learn to get used to the idiosyncrasies of its people, warts and all. Some of them are nice and helpful, others ignorant and opportunistic; some are friendly, others hopelessly arrogant. Some are rich, some are poor -- chances are that neither will let you know.
KLites irritate you like hell sometimes but if none of them were around, such as during festive breaks like this, city life would not be the same -- unless of course you speak and understand Nepalese, Indonesian, Tagalog or Burmese.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Tough times call for prudent measures
TIMES must be really bad. I have not seen many "yee sang" (raw fish dish) banners at Chinese restaurants in Jalan Pahang, Setapak. In years past, the banner war would begin as early as a month before Chinese New Year, each shop trying to outdo the other with all sorts of "Hidangan Ikan Berwarna-warni" (colourful fish dishes).
And I think I could be right about the hard times as you can still find festive food items at reasonable prices. Just last week, I was pleasantly surprised by the price of banana prawns (or "meng har" in Cantonese, the king-size prawns that are synonymous with Chinese New Year).
The price of this giant marine prawn used to hit RM80 per kilogramme during the festive season and I was delighted to find that it was going for only RM35 per kilogramme at the Pasar Tani Mega in Taman Danau Kota, Genting Kelang.
In the late 1990s, if you want to serve "meng har" on your reunion table for that price, you had to drive 70 km from Kuala Lumpur to Sekinchan or even Sungai Besar at least a month before Chinese New Year. Otherwise, the prices would climb higher as the big day drew nearer.
I have also not seen white pomfret ("tow tai" in Cantonese or "bawal tambak" in Malay) at the wet markets these past two weeks. I wonder how much they cost now. One Chinese New Year not too long ago, the fish cost a ridiculous RM108 per kg when demand exceeded supply.
You wonder why people are willing to spend so much on fish, prawns and other festive fare. Well, I think festive seasons lower our guard and make us vulnerable to seasonal spending. We become more gullible to sales pitches and in the frenzy to show our opulence, we end up trapped with huge credit card bills when the celebration is over.
I must confess that I have also been guilty when it comes to festive shopping, usually spending too much on too many things bought from the heart and not by the head. Not just food and clothes but also festive décor such as lanterns, running lights, greeting banners, etc -- which I now recycle from previous years.
It takes some guts to put up recycled decorations, especially when you notice your neighbours putting up brand new ones around their houses. It can be quite challenging to answer the inevitable questions from your kids like: "Papa, why didn't we change our old red lanterns?" or "Mama, why can't we get a pot of golden lime like the auntie next door?"
It took quite a while for my wife and I to teach them about prudence. From the time they were young, we tried to drum into their minds that Chinese New Year Day is only one day of the year, and there are another 364 days to contend with.
I don't know if our explanations worked but I am thankful that my children do not question me when I put up the lanterns, running lights and door trimmings that have been used last year and the year before. Perhaps they have understood that it is easier to save a sen than to try and earn the same.
This is especially important with the current economic downturn when many of us do not know if we will still have our jobs by the middle of the year.
Of course, some of us will throw caution to the wind and live for the moment and hope to reach the end of the year unscathed. Others will seek the wise counsel of soothsayers and feng shui masters to chart their course through these troubled times. Depending on the depth of their pockets, they could even arm themselves with good luck charms only to find out at the end of the year that the only ones laughing all the way to the banks are the makers of the products.
I am willing to bet that those who continue to plough on like the ox, relying on hard work and diligence rather than luck, will end the year most profitably. And if they are prudent, they just might make the celebration last a little bit longer.
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