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.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
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?
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?
Monday, January 17, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, January 10, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, January 3, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, December 27, 2010
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?
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?
Monday, December 20, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
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?
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?
Sunday, December 5, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, November 29, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Liaison efforts can bring police closer to the people
EARLY this year, the papers highlighted the issue of gangsterism in schools.
One of the reports featured a comment by a police spokesperson on crime prevention in schools.
The spokesman said police liaison officers would continue to visit schools regularly to interact with students and teachers to stop students from getting involved in gangsterism and other crimes.
The spokesman also said officers from either the nearest police station or the district headquarters carried out such visits once a month.
I had the opportunity to attend a PTA meeting a few weeks back.
Among the recurrent issues discussed was how to get in touch with a police liaison officer.
The school had not been able to benefit from the attention of a police liaison officer for a little more than a year and the teachers and PTA are at their wits’ end.
Although there had been no major crime in the school, the school authorities were concerned about its students’ safety.
Some time ago, the school’s security guard was threatened by some youths with a parang because they were told not to disturb the students.
Fortunately, nothing serious developed.
The PTA chairman said he had been to the local police station several times to meet with the liaison officer but without success.
He related how he was asked to “come back later” because the officer-in-charge was not around.
The PTA chairman said he went back three times, at different times of the day, but failed to meet with the officer.
Having liaison officers visit schools is a commendable effort that can help nip crime in the bud.
It is also a good way for the police to feel the pulse of the community it is entrusted to protect.
Having regular meetings with teachers and parents can provide vital information on the social health of the neighbourhood, too.
Where manpower shortage is concerned, the extra pairs of eyes do come in handy for the police.
In fact, why stop at having liaison officers for schools? Why not extend it to residents’ associations as well? Not many people I know will casually talk to policemen about their concerns for their neighbourhood although many people would not hesitate to blame the lack of police presence if crime rate soared.
Some even stop talking to the neighbours when they realise that the latter are policemen.
While we cannot help having people who prefer not to “get involved” around, I think the majority of those who love peace and security would welcome police liaison officers in our neighbourhood s.
Liaison efforts also bring the police force closer to the people. Right now, it is something the police could do with, I think.
One of the reports featured a comment by a police spokesperson on crime prevention in schools.
The spokesman said police liaison officers would continue to visit schools regularly to interact with students and teachers to stop students from getting involved in gangsterism and other crimes.
The spokesman also said officers from either the nearest police station or the district headquarters carried out such visits once a month.
I had the opportunity to attend a PTA meeting a few weeks back.
Among the recurrent issues discussed was how to get in touch with a police liaison officer.
The school had not been able to benefit from the attention of a police liaison officer for a little more than a year and the teachers and PTA are at their wits’ end.
Although there had been no major crime in the school, the school authorities were concerned about its students’ safety.
Some time ago, the school’s security guard was threatened by some youths with a parang because they were told not to disturb the students.
Fortunately, nothing serious developed.
The PTA chairman said he had been to the local police station several times to meet with the liaison officer but without success.
He related how he was asked to “come back later” because the officer-in-charge was not around.
The PTA chairman said he went back three times, at different times of the day, but failed to meet with the officer.
Having liaison officers visit schools is a commendable effort that can help nip crime in the bud.
It is also a good way for the police to feel the pulse of the community it is entrusted to protect.
Having regular meetings with teachers and parents can provide vital information on the social health of the neighbourhood, too.
Where manpower shortage is concerned, the extra pairs of eyes do come in handy for the police.
In fact, why stop at having liaison officers for schools? Why not extend it to residents’ associations as well? Not many people I know will casually talk to policemen about their concerns for their neighbourhood although many people would not hesitate to blame the lack of police presence if crime rate soared.
Some even stop talking to the neighbours when they realise that the latter are policemen.
While we cannot help having people who prefer not to “get involved” around, I think the majority of those who love peace and security would welcome police liaison officers in our neighbourhood s.
Liaison efforts also bring the police force closer to the people. Right now, it is something the police could do with, I think.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Urgent need to improve emergency response
MY colleague Kamarudin Ahmad’s teenage son underwent surgery to remove his tonsils recently. While the boy was recuperating at home in Kota Damansara, he suddenly coughed up blood.
Fortunately for the family, Kamarudin, a seasoned photo-journalist who has seen all sorts of emergencies in over 20 years of his career, including a stint in Iraq,was at home that Sunday.
Sensing that the boy needed fast medical attention, Kamarudin dialed 999. When the call got through, he briefed the operator and gave the details including his contact number and address. He requested for an ambulance to be sent immediately. However, much to his chagrin, having taken the details, the operator asked what he had given his son to eat and how did the boy cough up blood — questions only a medical personnel would ask and have use for.
Realising that valuable time was being wasted, Kamarudin pleaded for an ambulance to be sent at once. After what seemed to be a long wait, Kamarudin’s phone rang. The ambulance driver was calling to ask for directions to his house despite the details given to the 999 operator earlier. By that time, the boy had gone into a fit.
In the rising tension, Kamarudin still managed to repeat the details he had given earlier. Kamaruddin then asked if his son could be sent to the nearest medical facility, a private hospital in Damansara, which is only a 15 minutes’ drive from his house.
The response shocked Kamaruddin — the man said it could not be done because it was a government-owned ambulance service and that it could only send patients to Sungai Buloh Hospital, which is a good half-hour ride from Kota Damansara.
Kamarudin cancelled his request and drove his son to the private medical centre in Damansara where the boy was immediately warded.
Relating his nightmare, Kamarudin said he was lucky it was a Sunday when traffic was sparse.
Otherwise, he could not imagine what would have happened.
“I had no idea why the 999 operator asked me more than she needed to know instead of sending an ambulance immediately.
I am also wondering why, after having given the details to her, the ambulance driver still had to ask me for the directions to my house,” he said.
“Aren’t ambulances equipped with maps and global positioning systems so that they waste little time in getting to their destinations?” I said I did not know howprepared or well equipped our medical emergency response units are but I had a similar experience in the 1990s.
A neighbour’s house caught fire in the wee hours of the morning and I dialed 999 to ask for the fire brigade.
Instead, a sleepy-voiced operator put me through a similar drill of questions like how the fire started and how bad was the fire when all he needed to do was relay the call to the fire department.
He only relented after I told him to call me back if he was not convinced that it was a genuine distress call.
Perhaps the rising number of fake calls had prompted the 999 operator to ask more than he needed to know to weed out the crank callers.
But in Kamarudin’s case, did the operator need to know more than the nature of the emergency and location before dispatching medical help? Considering howcritical the emergency was, couldn’t the patient be sent to the nearest hospital instead of the pre-approved government hospital?
In emergencies when split-second decisions have to be made, are our emergency response personnel trained to make judgment calls that can save lives, and in this instance, pick the nearest well-equipped medical facility regardless of whether it is a government or private hospital?
Fortunately for the family, Kamarudin, a seasoned photo-journalist who has seen all sorts of emergencies in over 20 years of his career, including a stint in Iraq,was at home that Sunday.
Sensing that the boy needed fast medical attention, Kamarudin dialed 999. When the call got through, he briefed the operator and gave the details including his contact number and address. He requested for an ambulance to be sent immediately. However, much to his chagrin, having taken the details, the operator asked what he had given his son to eat and how did the boy cough up blood — questions only a medical personnel would ask and have use for.
Realising that valuable time was being wasted, Kamarudin pleaded for an ambulance to be sent at once. After what seemed to be a long wait, Kamarudin’s phone rang. The ambulance driver was calling to ask for directions to his house despite the details given to the 999 operator earlier. By that time, the boy had gone into a fit.
In the rising tension, Kamarudin still managed to repeat the details he had given earlier. Kamaruddin then asked if his son could be sent to the nearest medical facility, a private hospital in Damansara, which is only a 15 minutes’ drive from his house.
The response shocked Kamaruddin — the man said it could not be done because it was a government-owned ambulance service and that it could only send patients to Sungai Buloh Hospital, which is a good half-hour ride from Kota Damansara.
Kamarudin cancelled his request and drove his son to the private medical centre in Damansara where the boy was immediately warded.
Relating his nightmare, Kamarudin said he was lucky it was a Sunday when traffic was sparse.
Otherwise, he could not imagine what would have happened.
“I had no idea why the 999 operator asked me more than she needed to know instead of sending an ambulance immediately.
I am also wondering why, after having given the details to her, the ambulance driver still had to ask me for the directions to my house,” he said.
“Aren’t ambulances equipped with maps and global positioning systems so that they waste little time in getting to their destinations?” I said I did not know howprepared or well equipped our medical emergency response units are but I had a similar experience in the 1990s.
A neighbour’s house caught fire in the wee hours of the morning and I dialed 999 to ask for the fire brigade.
Instead, a sleepy-voiced operator put me through a similar drill of questions like how the fire started and how bad was the fire when all he needed to do was relay the call to the fire department.
He only relented after I told him to call me back if he was not convinced that it was a genuine distress call.
Perhaps the rising number of fake calls had prompted the 999 operator to ask more than he needed to know to weed out the crank callers.
But in Kamarudin’s case, did the operator need to know more than the nature of the emergency and location before dispatching medical help? Considering howcritical the emergency was, couldn’t the patient be sent to the nearest hospital instead of the pre-approved government hospital?
In emergencies when split-second decisions have to be made, are our emergency response personnel trained to make judgment calls that can save lives, and in this instance, pick the nearest well-equipped medical facility regardless of whether it is a government or private hospital?
Monday, November 1, 2010
To be fair, cats also cause a lot of problems
F the Selayang Municipal Council is not amused with the increasing number of the stray dogs in the municipality because of the apathy of pet lovers there, the authorities should try living in some condominiums and see whether stray cats are less of a nuisance. Surely the stray problem that dogs the authority is no less worse compared with what my friend Khoo Ching is experiencing at his condominium.
The stray cat population at Khoo’s condominium is making him miserable. While some of the stray cats are adorable, their habit of easing themselves wherever they like is driving Khoo and his neighbours up the wall. There is cat poo in the corridors daily.
Fortunately, the sweeper isat the condominium had been very kind to both residents and cats. The Indonesian woman cleans up removes the mess without complaint. She also uses heavy-duty cleaning fluid onto the more stubborn mess to get rid of the stains.
But, on her off-daysthe days when she is not working, residents using the corridors have to tread carefully through a ad to tread through a minefield of cat poo. When the lights are out because of, many end up with smelly soles.
No one knows where the strays come from but Khoo suspects that they are from neighbouring condominiums. He has tried various means to deter the cats from easing themselves at his doorsteps. He uses heavy-duty floor cleaners to get rid of the mess and then sprays insect repellent onto the spot where the misdeed occurred.
“Cats, like dogs, leave a scent to mark their territory,” Khoo explained. “If you get rid of its scent, the cat will not return.”
Well, it didn’t work. His neighbour Ah Gong burns the cat poo with old newspaper before getting rid of it. He believes that burning the excrement leaves a scent that frightens the bravest of cats. That didn’t work either.
Khoo’s neighbour Meor throws mothballs all over the corridor where the cats like to ease themselves. The cats appear to be deterred by the smell and stayed away.
But, when the mothballs disintegrated, the cats returned and eased themselves with a vengeance.
At one time, says Khoo, when Indochinese immigrants were living at the condo, the cat population was almost decimated.
“No one knew what happened. Those who seemed to know kept the knowledge to themselves lest they hurt the feelings of animal lovers.”
Khoo asked if I had any ideas for getting rid of the cats. I said I had none because there are also quite a few strays that hang out in my condominium.
One cat lover has been very kind to the strays and feeds them. So the stray cat population here is also going up. Thankfully, the population of similar cat lovers is not.
Khoo asked me if cats could be toilet trained. I told him that cats are born toilet-trained. In the kampung, cats immediately cover up their poo with sand or soil after they are done answering the call of nature. However, the hard condo floor does not afford it similar privileges to urban cats.
I told Khoo that the answer to his problem probably lies in the garbage chutes at his condominium. Perhaps, instead of getting angry at the cats, he and his neighbours should be monitoring how other condominium dwellers dispose of their kitchen waste. The hygiene-challenged are often the culprits behind problems with strays.
The stray cat population at Khoo’s condominium is making him miserable. While some of the stray cats are adorable, their habit of easing themselves wherever they like is driving Khoo and his neighbours up the wall. There is cat poo in the corridors daily.
Fortunately, the sweeper isat the condominium had been very kind to both residents and cats. The Indonesian woman cleans up removes the mess without complaint. She also uses heavy-duty cleaning fluid onto the more stubborn mess to get rid of the stains.
But, on her off-daysthe days when she is not working, residents using the corridors have to tread carefully through a ad to tread through a minefield of cat poo. When the lights are out because of, many end up with smelly soles.
No one knows where the strays come from but Khoo suspects that they are from neighbouring condominiums. He has tried various means to deter the cats from easing themselves at his doorsteps. He uses heavy-duty floor cleaners to get rid of the mess and then sprays insect repellent onto the spot where the misdeed occurred.
“Cats, like dogs, leave a scent to mark their territory,” Khoo explained. “If you get rid of its scent, the cat will not return.”
Well, it didn’t work. His neighbour Ah Gong burns the cat poo with old newspaper before getting rid of it. He believes that burning the excrement leaves a scent that frightens the bravest of cats. That didn’t work either.
Khoo’s neighbour Meor throws mothballs all over the corridor where the cats like to ease themselves. The cats appear to be deterred by the smell and stayed away.
But, when the mothballs disintegrated, the cats returned and eased themselves with a vengeance.
At one time, says Khoo, when Indochinese immigrants were living at the condo, the cat population was almost decimated.
“No one knew what happened. Those who seemed to know kept the knowledge to themselves lest they hurt the feelings of animal lovers.”
Khoo asked if I had any ideas for getting rid of the cats. I said I had none because there are also quite a few strays that hang out in my condominium.
One cat lover has been very kind to the strays and feeds them. So the stray cat population here is also going up. Thankfully, the population of similar cat lovers is not.
Khoo asked me if cats could be toilet trained. I told him that cats are born toilet-trained. In the kampung, cats immediately cover up their poo with sand or soil after they are done answering the call of nature. However, the hard condo floor does not afford it similar privileges to urban cats.
I told Khoo that the answer to his problem probably lies in the garbage chutes at his condominium. Perhaps, instead of getting angry at the cats, he and his neighbours should be monitoring how other condominium dwellers dispose of their kitchen waste. The hygiene-challenged are often the culprits behind problems with strays.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Missing covers a drain on resources
A BLIND man would have fallen into an uncovered drain in Jalan Ipoh last week if not for the vigilance of a biker. If the biker had not shouted out to warn the old man, whose sweep of his cane missed the drain, the latter would have been injured.
The incident occurred along the pedestrian path near SMK Perempuan Jalan Ipoh at the 31/2 Mile. The steel drain covers were stolen more than six months ago but were yet to be replaced.
Perhaps no one complained to the authorities about their disappearance or City Hall did not do a monthly stock take of its steel drain covers even though plenty had gone missing lately, such as those at SK Convent Sentul that were replaced with concrete slabs recently.
Perhaps it is also because of the low pedestrian traffic, the loss had gone unnoticed. Some civic-minded passers-by had used discarded wooden pallets and planks of various sizes to cover some of the holes and this had probably saved many unsuspecting people who used the footpath at night.
Last year, City Hall literally flushed close to half a million ringgit down the drain by using steel drain covers, if recent reports are anything to go by.
A total of 1,382 drain covers worth the amount were stolen last year. The first nine months of this year saw another 1,035 drain covers worth RM331,200 go missing. How many people fell into the exposed drains is not known -- or if any had taken legal action against the authorities for negligence and failure to maintain the safety of the pedestrian walks if there was a provision by law to do so.
According to someone in the scrap yard business, public owned grill drain covers and cast iron manholes have no resale value. They are contraband that will attract trouble with the law if there is an inspection by the authorities.
But there are some small-time dealers who turn fencers by buying such items from drug addicts and petty thieves. All the authorities need to do is to call on the many junkyards that pepper the city and find out who they are.
Of course, the solution to discourage the stealing of steel drain covers lies in concrete slabs that are too heavy to remove and have no downstream use -- yet. However, the slabs are not a concrete alternative. Unless they are reinforced with ribbed steel, they break easily -- especially under the weight of cars and bikes driven into them, or parked with their wheels on them. It will only be a matter of time before replacements are needed.
But concrete slabs are better than fibreglass grilles spotted covering the drains outside this newspaper's office in Bangsar. At least, during heavy rain and the drains overflow, the concrete slabs do not get washed away as one of the fibreglass grilles did some time ago, and which is yet to be replaced.
I wonder if there is a better solution our engineering students at the varsities can come up with or if City Hall has approached the academia for answers.
As we saunter towards a developed city's status, it will be keeping in step to come up with practical town planning solutions and think miles ahead to introduce facilities that are not only environmentally- and people-friendly but also those that need less frequent replacement or maintenance
The incident occurred along the pedestrian path near SMK Perempuan Jalan Ipoh at the 31/2 Mile. The steel drain covers were stolen more than six months ago but were yet to be replaced.
Perhaps no one complained to the authorities about their disappearance or City Hall did not do a monthly stock take of its steel drain covers even though plenty had gone missing lately, such as those at SK Convent Sentul that were replaced with concrete slabs recently.
Perhaps it is also because of the low pedestrian traffic, the loss had gone unnoticed. Some civic-minded passers-by had used discarded wooden pallets and planks of various sizes to cover some of the holes and this had probably saved many unsuspecting people who used the footpath at night.
Last year, City Hall literally flushed close to half a million ringgit down the drain by using steel drain covers, if recent reports are anything to go by.
A total of 1,382 drain covers worth the amount were stolen last year. The first nine months of this year saw another 1,035 drain covers worth RM331,200 go missing. How many people fell into the exposed drains is not known -- or if any had taken legal action against the authorities for negligence and failure to maintain the safety of the pedestrian walks if there was a provision by law to do so.
According to someone in the scrap yard business, public owned grill drain covers and cast iron manholes have no resale value. They are contraband that will attract trouble with the law if there is an inspection by the authorities.
But there are some small-time dealers who turn fencers by buying such items from drug addicts and petty thieves. All the authorities need to do is to call on the many junkyards that pepper the city and find out who they are.
Of course, the solution to discourage the stealing of steel drain covers lies in concrete slabs that are too heavy to remove and have no downstream use -- yet. However, the slabs are not a concrete alternative. Unless they are reinforced with ribbed steel, they break easily -- especially under the weight of cars and bikes driven into them, or parked with their wheels on them. It will only be a matter of time before replacements are needed.
But concrete slabs are better than fibreglass grilles spotted covering the drains outside this newspaper's office in Bangsar. At least, during heavy rain and the drains overflow, the concrete slabs do not get washed away as one of the fibreglass grilles did some time ago, and which is yet to be replaced.
I wonder if there is a better solution our engineering students at the varsities can come up with or if City Hall has approached the academia for answers.
As we saunter towards a developed city's status, it will be keeping in step to come up with practical town planning solutions and think miles ahead to introduce facilities that are not only environmentally- and people-friendly but also those that need less frequent replacement or maintenance
Monday, October 18, 2010
Monkey trials and tribulations
BACK in the mid-1970s, a coffee farm neighbouring my aunt's in Batang Berjuntai was terrorised by a troop of monkeys. Led by a dominant male, the troop would raid the farm at mid-morning and feast on the ripening coffee berries.
But when the primates also destroyed the unripe berries, the farm owner decided to put a stop to the marauders.
First, he lit firecrackers -- which sounded like gunshots -- to scare away the monkeys.
When the monkeys got used to the sound and played hide-and-seek with the farmer, he trapped one of them.
Then he dressed it up in a red shirt and released it.
When the odd-attired monkey tried to rejoin his troop, the rest were sent scurrying deep into the forest, frightened by the strange-looking monkey hot on their heels.
But after a while, the monkeys returned and when the damage became unbearable, the farmer went after the leader of the pack, a wily alpha male that was soon caught with a snare.
When the monkey bit the farmer as he tried to release it, the latter lost his cool. The monkey lost his head.
The dismembered monkey's head was put on a stake near where the the troop would hang out after their feeding frenzy.
That evening, the cheerful chatter was replaced with eerie wails as the primates mourned their loss.
The monkeys did not return for some time, possibly traumatised by what they saw.
But when they did return a few months later, they not only destroyed the coffee trees, they also attacked farm workers as if in revenge for their dead leader.
Finally, some farm owners got together and hunted them down.
If the monkey menace was confined to farms in those days, today, development is driving them to cross paths with humans.
A friend who moved into an expensive condominium in Taman Melawati a few years ago had spotted a lone macaque near his home.
The animal lover, his wife and 5-year-old daughter would take turns to throw cream crackers off the balcony of their second-floor condominium.
Within weeks, a tacit contract was sealed between man and primate. The monkey would turn up at the precise time each day and it would be fed its daily ration of biscuits.
One weekend morning, my friend heard his daughter screaming excitedly in the kitchen.
When he and his wife rushed in, they caught sight of the monkey they had been feeding climbing out of the window.
The startled animal dropped the tin of cream crackers it was trying to carry away. The experience left my friend's wife shaken and that was the last time she allowed anyone to feed the monkey.
But the primate continued to loiter around their condominium for months. Finally, when it realised that it could not get any more biscuits from the family, it stole from the neighbours.
Forestry experts know best when they say that feeding wild animals is not encouraged.
Whether these are wild boars or monkeys, the wild animals usually have plenty of food in their natural surrounding.
But given the chance, they prefer handouts any day.
If regularly fed, they will appear at the same spot daily at the precise time for their meals.
But when they are not fed -- and some may lose their natural ability to forage for food -- they will not hesitate to intrude into human dwellings.
In the case of monkeys, they often approach those who carry stuff they have associated with food.
We have heard of wild monkeys snatching plastic bags, haven't we?
Most of the time they do not do it out of mischief, I am sure.
But when the primates also destroyed the unripe berries, the farm owner decided to put a stop to the marauders.
First, he lit firecrackers -- which sounded like gunshots -- to scare away the monkeys.
When the monkeys got used to the sound and played hide-and-seek with the farmer, he trapped one of them.
Then he dressed it up in a red shirt and released it.
When the odd-attired monkey tried to rejoin his troop, the rest were sent scurrying deep into the forest, frightened by the strange-looking monkey hot on their heels.
But after a while, the monkeys returned and when the damage became unbearable, the farmer went after the leader of the pack, a wily alpha male that was soon caught with a snare.
When the monkey bit the farmer as he tried to release it, the latter lost his cool. The monkey lost his head.
The dismembered monkey's head was put on a stake near where the the troop would hang out after their feeding frenzy.
That evening, the cheerful chatter was replaced with eerie wails as the primates mourned their loss.
The monkeys did not return for some time, possibly traumatised by what they saw.
But when they did return a few months later, they not only destroyed the coffee trees, they also attacked farm workers as if in revenge for their dead leader.
Finally, some farm owners got together and hunted them down.
If the monkey menace was confined to farms in those days, today, development is driving them to cross paths with humans.
A friend who moved into an expensive condominium in Taman Melawati a few years ago had spotted a lone macaque near his home.
The animal lover, his wife and 5-year-old daughter would take turns to throw cream crackers off the balcony of their second-floor condominium.
Within weeks, a tacit contract was sealed between man and primate. The monkey would turn up at the precise time each day and it would be fed its daily ration of biscuits.
One weekend morning, my friend heard his daughter screaming excitedly in the kitchen.
When he and his wife rushed in, they caught sight of the monkey they had been feeding climbing out of the window.
The startled animal dropped the tin of cream crackers it was trying to carry away. The experience left my friend's wife shaken and that was the last time she allowed anyone to feed the monkey.
But the primate continued to loiter around their condominium for months. Finally, when it realised that it could not get any more biscuits from the family, it stole from the neighbours.
Forestry experts know best when they say that feeding wild animals is not encouraged.
Whether these are wild boars or monkeys, the wild animals usually have plenty of food in their natural surrounding.
But given the chance, they prefer handouts any day.
If regularly fed, they will appear at the same spot daily at the precise time for their meals.
But when they are not fed -- and some may lose their natural ability to forage for food -- they will not hesitate to intrude into human dwellings.
In the case of monkeys, they often approach those who carry stuff they have associated with food.
We have heard of wild monkeys snatching plastic bags, haven't we?
Most of the time they do not do it out of mischief, I am sure.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Let's hope they have learnt their lesson
THE people who put up the telecommunications (telco) tower in the children's playground in Jalan Bangkung, Bangsar, Kuala Lumpur, must be kicking themselves for thinking that they could fool Bangsar folk.
There is a lesson to be learned here. You just don't mess around with someone else's backyard without consulting them.
There is a Malay saying that goes like this: "Kalau nak masuk rumah, bagilah salam dulu." It basically means knock before you enter.
It's all about courtesy and, in this case, the people who put up the tower did not consult the residents first -- and it is obvious why they did not.
But even if they did, the chances of the tower going up are slim.
Transmission towers are bad news. It is common knowledge that they emit harmful electromagnetic radiation (EMR). There has been enough bad press about them since the first few came up in the city in the '90s when handphones arrived on our shores.
Whether or not these transmission towers emit EMR that can cause cancer or make you senile before your time is immaterial. Seeing one coming up, even if it is a dummy, can easily cause sleepless nights.
No one likes transmission towers in their backyard, especially those who are better informed and empowered, like those living in Bangsar.
Folk here are already up to their eyeballs in the rapid commercialisation of their once quiet residential haven.
The persistent traffic jams, haphazard parking and increasing noise pollution are already robbing them of what little quality of life that is left.
Putting up a telco tower in their playground where they exercise daily for good health is asking for trouble.
Never mind what the experts say about radio communication towers emitting very low frequency non-ionised radiation; unlike ionised ones such as X-rays. Or that the low frequency waves can at worse cause skin burns if one stands too close to a high-powered source.
Try convincing the people who live nearby that such towers are safe and see if you succeed.
Perhaps the Mandatory Standards for Electromagnetic Field (EMF) Emission from Radiocommunication Infrastructure guidelines can address concerns over the potential ill-health effects resulting from telco towers.
The guidelines, which were drafted by the Malaysian Communications and Multimedia Commission (MCMC), is now available for public viewing at its website at www.skmm.gov.my until Nov 15.
With the dos and don'ts spelt out clearly, hopefully owners of such infrastructure facilities will be more mindful of the placement of these towers to avoid giving people living nearby the jitters.
Never mind if the lack of such towers result in poor connectivity on mobile networks and headaches for users.
Goodwill is a better alternative than bad press about one's lack of corporate social responsibility.
Meanwhile, with the removal of the tower, people living in Jalan Bangkung can continue to enjoy their pursuit of good health at the playground.
They are lucky to have the well-informed, empowered and vocal Bukit Bandaraya Residents' Association to voice their grievances.
Folk who live in less privileged communities around the Klang Valley are not so fortunate. Many have to put up with transmission towers and live underneath high tension cables that power the quality lives led by people elsewhere.
There is a lesson to be learned here. You just don't mess around with someone else's backyard without consulting them.
There is a Malay saying that goes like this: "Kalau nak masuk rumah, bagilah salam dulu." It basically means knock before you enter.
It's all about courtesy and, in this case, the people who put up the tower did not consult the residents first -- and it is obvious why they did not.
But even if they did, the chances of the tower going up are slim.
Transmission towers are bad news. It is common knowledge that they emit harmful electromagnetic radiation (EMR). There has been enough bad press about them since the first few came up in the city in the '90s when handphones arrived on our shores.
Whether or not these transmission towers emit EMR that can cause cancer or make you senile before your time is immaterial. Seeing one coming up, even if it is a dummy, can easily cause sleepless nights.
No one likes transmission towers in their backyard, especially those who are better informed and empowered, like those living in Bangsar.
Folk here are already up to their eyeballs in the rapid commercialisation of their once quiet residential haven.
The persistent traffic jams, haphazard parking and increasing noise pollution are already robbing them of what little quality of life that is left.
Putting up a telco tower in their playground where they exercise daily for good health is asking for trouble.
Never mind what the experts say about radio communication towers emitting very low frequency non-ionised radiation; unlike ionised ones such as X-rays. Or that the low frequency waves can at worse cause skin burns if one stands too close to a high-powered source.
Try convincing the people who live nearby that such towers are safe and see if you succeed.
Perhaps the Mandatory Standards for Electromagnetic Field (EMF) Emission from Radiocommunication Infrastructure guidelines can address concerns over the potential ill-health effects resulting from telco towers.
The guidelines, which were drafted by the Malaysian Communications and Multimedia Commission (MCMC), is now available for public viewing at its website at www.skmm.gov.my until Nov 15.
With the dos and don'ts spelt out clearly, hopefully owners of such infrastructure facilities will be more mindful of the placement of these towers to avoid giving people living nearby the jitters.
Never mind if the lack of such towers result in poor connectivity on mobile networks and headaches for users.
Goodwill is a better alternative than bad press about one's lack of corporate social responsibility.
Meanwhile, with the removal of the tower, people living in Jalan Bangkung can continue to enjoy their pursuit of good health at the playground.
They are lucky to have the well-informed, empowered and vocal Bukit Bandaraya Residents' Association to voice their grievances.
Folk who live in less privileged communities around the Klang Valley are not so fortunate. Many have to put up with transmission towers and live underneath high tension cables that power the quality lives led by people elsewhere.
Monday, October 4, 2010
KL's unstoppable jams
WHAT does it take to reduce congestion on the roads of Kuala Lumpur? Even with the intelligent traffic management system, which we did not have 10 years ago, the traffic is still unmanageable on most days. Gridlocks threaten to descend on us whenever it rains or when some roads are closed for unannounced events.
With all the technology that is transforming the way we live, isn't it strange that we are still helpless when it comes to dealing with KL's jams?
More than a decade ago, there was a dispute on whether the city could manage without policemen taking over traffic control.
Someone had declared that the traffic lights were enough to do the job and the story went to town. The traffic controllers tested the theory.
Within hours, Kuala Lumpur was like a cat on a hot zinc roof. A point was proven: no technology is good enough when it comes to dealing with the unpredictability of the city's traffic.
After a couple of days of having "jam" for breakfast, no motorist wanted to relive the nightmare. The idea of intelligent traffic lights was put to rest.
But with the city all wired up today, could traffic flow be improved, especially with the electronic eyes monitoring our roads 24/7?
I am asking because if the traffic monitoring centres are to study all the video footages taken of congested areas, I am sure there is enough material to learn how to deal with our infamous jams.
For instance, along Jalan Bangsar in the mornings, the traffic police have effectively reduced the congestion heading towards the city by barricading the turn into Jalan Maarof.
Motorists heading from the city into Jalan Maarof have to make a U-turn at Jalan Pantai.
Previously, errant motorists often stopped in the yellow box and blocked the flow towards the city when the lights turned green.
In the evenings, however, the same diligence is not observed.
From the LRT station to the Jalan Travers-Brickfields junction, errant motorists are allowed to park along the yellow lined roadside in front of the shops. Buses, too, switch lanes at their drivers' whim, joined by other motorists.
Motorcyclists, meanwhile, weave in and out of the traffic from which only a seasoned Bangsar road user can emerge unscathed.
The same bad parking and driving habits are probably causing jams in other parts of the city at other times of the day.
A friend told me that Singapore managed its traffic well because the road users had been taught to respect the traffic laws and fear the consequences of breaking them.
Drivers there know that their movements are constantly being monitored and throwing caution to the wind will cause unnecessary hardship.
When I asked him if we could duplicate the effectiveness of Singapore's traffic management in Malaysia, the chap laughed. Singapore can do it, he says, because it is much smaller.
By the same comparison, can KL not be just as successful given the fact that our city proper is only a third the size of the Singapore?
Maybe our traffic police should not be so lenient with motorists and teach the recalcitrants to respect traffic laws and the rights of other road users.
With all the technology that is transforming the way we live, isn't it strange that we are still helpless when it comes to dealing with KL's jams?
More than a decade ago, there was a dispute on whether the city could manage without policemen taking over traffic control.
Someone had declared that the traffic lights were enough to do the job and the story went to town. The traffic controllers tested the theory.
Within hours, Kuala Lumpur was like a cat on a hot zinc roof. A point was proven: no technology is good enough when it comes to dealing with the unpredictability of the city's traffic.
After a couple of days of having "jam" for breakfast, no motorist wanted to relive the nightmare. The idea of intelligent traffic lights was put to rest.
But with the city all wired up today, could traffic flow be improved, especially with the electronic eyes monitoring our roads 24/7?
I am asking because if the traffic monitoring centres are to study all the video footages taken of congested areas, I am sure there is enough material to learn how to deal with our infamous jams.
For instance, along Jalan Bangsar in the mornings, the traffic police have effectively reduced the congestion heading towards the city by barricading the turn into Jalan Maarof.
Motorists heading from the city into Jalan Maarof have to make a U-turn at Jalan Pantai.
Previously, errant motorists often stopped in the yellow box and blocked the flow towards the city when the lights turned green.
In the evenings, however, the same diligence is not observed.
From the LRT station to the Jalan Travers-Brickfields junction, errant motorists are allowed to park along the yellow lined roadside in front of the shops. Buses, too, switch lanes at their drivers' whim, joined by other motorists.
Motorcyclists, meanwhile, weave in and out of the traffic from which only a seasoned Bangsar road user can emerge unscathed.
The same bad parking and driving habits are probably causing jams in other parts of the city at other times of the day.
A friend told me that Singapore managed its traffic well because the road users had been taught to respect the traffic laws and fear the consequences of breaking them.
Drivers there know that their movements are constantly being monitored and throwing caution to the wind will cause unnecessary hardship.
When I asked him if we could duplicate the effectiveness of Singapore's traffic management in Malaysia, the chap laughed. Singapore can do it, he says, because it is much smaller.
By the same comparison, can KL not be just as successful given the fact that our city proper is only a third the size of the Singapore?
Maybe our traffic police should not be so lenient with motorists and teach the recalcitrants to respect traffic laws and the rights of other road users.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Cheers to Kopi Musang
 |
| The shop front |
KOPI Musang is probably Muar’s best kept secret among coffee lovers and if you love gourmet coffee, you will understand why.
And no, it is not another brand. You would have heard of Kopi Musang by another name — kopi luwak or palm civet coffee as it is better known. It is said to be the most sought after gourmet coffee in the world.
The coffee gets its name from the musang (or luwak), an Asian palm civet. The animal eats the coffee cherries and passes out the beans the next day.
The defecated beans are collected, thoroughly washed, dried in the sun and roasted. During the journey in the civet’s intestines, it is believed that the digestive juices of the animal improves the taste of the coffee, making it less bitter.
In Muar, just across the express bus station by the river, check out the Sai Kee coffeeshop. You can’t miss the huge “elephant coffee bean” signboard. For those who know their kopi, Sai Kee is the maker of the famous Kopi 434, Muar’s pride.
Hooked at first sip
I had the opportunity to try kopi musang in Muar recently and met its operator Kiar Juan Pooh, who is in his mid-50s. Kiar, who is managing director of Kopi 434 (the number being the original phone number of the shop when it was established in 1953), said he discovered kopi musang in the mid-80s.
“I was approached by a coffee planter who wanted to sell his farm to me. I wasn’t interested at first but the price was irresistible, so I agreed to take over,” he explained. “Because the original owner could not take care of his farm, the coffee cherries were left to ripen on the trees.
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| This is how it looks like, brewed. |
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| The beans that have been washed and entirely cleaned |
“One day, one of my workers brought me a bag of beans he had collected. I asked him what they were and he said that they were beans eaten and passed out by the musang.
“He said the beans must be the best because as the civet picks only the best coffee cherries. He had collected the beans, which were in clusters, and had even washed them for me. He said if I was brave enough, I could try roasting the beans and see if they made good coffee.”
Kiar kept the beans in his factory for sometime before curiosity got the better of him and he roasted the beans and tried making coffee with them.
“I was not sure if it was safe to make coffee from beans that were defecated by the musang,” he said. “One day, with a few friends, we decided to try it.”
After the first sip, he and his friends were hooked. The discovery was kept a secret and shared only with close friends and as a surprise for coffee lovers he came to know or met.
Limited supply
Today, although he serves kopi musang at his shop, Kiar said, he has a little more than 20 kilos of the beans left. One Japanese coffee lover who came to know of his possession offered him several hundred US dollars a kilo to buy the beans but he turned the offer down.
“My kopi musang beans are for locals,” he said. “If I were to sell it to the Japanese, local coffee lovers will not be able to taste what kopi musang is.”
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| Here's a cup - from the conoisseur himself |
Kiar added that although the best beans are collected from the wild, they are becoming quite rare with the dwindling population of civet cats. In neighbouring countries where civet coffee is hugely popular, coffee beans are also fed to civets kept in captivity and the beans collected after the animals defecated.
Kiar has set a daily limit to only serve 200g of kopi musang. He added that he would be suspicious should someone turn up at his shop daily to drink kopi musang, adding that he might have to reconsider serving it.
Dirt cheap
Although I am not a coffee lover, I tried a cup of kopi musang. It tasted less bitter and smoother.
Kiar warned me that some of his customers who drank kopi musang for the first time, had told him that it made their bodies feel hot. I did not sense a similar feeling, perhaps I had been so used to drinking coffee that the caffeine made no impact. However, I did notice that the fragrance of the beans and the coffee’s aftertaste lingered for over two hours after I drank it.
Later when I told colleagues who were coffee connoisseurs about kopi musang, they said I must write about it. They tell me that to have drunk kopi musang at RM15 a cup is a steal — elsewhere around the world, drinking civet cat coffee would have set me poorer by at least a few hundred ringgit! And that would have left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.
How to get there
The shop is located at 121 Jalan Maharani, opposite the Bentayan Express Bus Station (or Pagoh Bus Station), along the river promenade. You can’t miss the huge signboard but if you still cannot find the outlet, call 06-951 3046 for directions. You can park your car at the huge car park near the bus station.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Fear the living, not the dead
A HARDCORE "number worshipper" asked if I could direct him to the Bukit Ampang Forest Reserve after he read about the herd of wild boars said to be able to give winning numbers to punters.
He was unable to locate the forest reserve's location on his GPS reader.
The chap said he would be grateful if I could find out exactly where the location is from my colleague who wrote the story.
He wanted to bring the wild boars, named Bobo, Ah Pai and Ah Choi, some food and, hopefully, obtain a lucky number for the next Toto draw.
If he strikes the jackpot, which is now over RM43 million, he says, he will consider taking the wild boars home and feed them for the rest of their lives.
I said I would try to get the directions to the city punters' best-kept secret but warned that people like him could spell the end of the wild boars. This is because their population could grow too big from the pampering from superstitious city folk.
After all, an expert has warned that culling might be necessary if there were too many of them. I suggested to the "number worshipper" that if he was so desperate, he could visit the zoo instead.
I do not know if the wild boars there also inspire visitors to see lucky numbers like their Bukit Ampang cousins, but I am sure the zoo authorities will appreciate the additional ticket sales at the gates.
I know they can do with more funds to run the place better.
I am not going to laugh at those who rubbed the bodies of the wild boars or fed them at Bukit Ampang in exchange for lucky numbers. They could be laughing all the way to the bank if the boars brought them luck as did Paul the Octopus to the supporters of Spain in this year's World Cup.
Superstition is not a laughing matter.
Some decades ago, there was a story about a new shopping complex that was looking for tenants and someone applied to sell antique furniture there.
Without finding out exactly what the merchandise was, a contract was signed and the terms of compensation inked.
When the complex opened, the floor supervisor was shocked to discover that the "antique furniture" sold by the new tenant turned out to be Chinese coffins.
According to the story, which later became urban legend, the complex could not wait to get rid of the coffins but not before paying a hefty compensation to the operator for breach of contract.
It was no laughing matter, of course. The complex probably would have lost more in goodwill and clientele if it had allowed the coffin shop to continue.
If you have been reading this newspaper, you will now appreciate the protests by some Kepong residents against having a coffin shop in their neighbourhood.
The residents were not amused when the authorities approved the operator's "furniture" business licence. Understandably, the residents are afraid of the bad vibes the shop would bring.
Whether or not their fears are unfounded, who knows?
But ask those who are working in mortuaries or funeral parlours and they will probably tell you that there is nothing sinister about coffins or dead bodies.
They will probably laugh at you for fearing the dead when it is the living that you should be worried about
He was unable to locate the forest reserve's location on his GPS reader.
The chap said he would be grateful if I could find out exactly where the location is from my colleague who wrote the story.
He wanted to bring the wild boars, named Bobo, Ah Pai and Ah Choi, some food and, hopefully, obtain a lucky number for the next Toto draw.
If he strikes the jackpot, which is now over RM43 million, he says, he will consider taking the wild boars home and feed them for the rest of their lives.
I said I would try to get the directions to the city punters' best-kept secret but warned that people like him could spell the end of the wild boars. This is because their population could grow too big from the pampering from superstitious city folk.
After all, an expert has warned that culling might be necessary if there were too many of them. I suggested to the "number worshipper" that if he was so desperate, he could visit the zoo instead.
I do not know if the wild boars there also inspire visitors to see lucky numbers like their Bukit Ampang cousins, but I am sure the zoo authorities will appreciate the additional ticket sales at the gates.
I know they can do with more funds to run the place better.
I am not going to laugh at those who rubbed the bodies of the wild boars or fed them at Bukit Ampang in exchange for lucky numbers. They could be laughing all the way to the bank if the boars brought them luck as did Paul the Octopus to the supporters of Spain in this year's World Cup.
Superstition is not a laughing matter.
Some decades ago, there was a story about a new shopping complex that was looking for tenants and someone applied to sell antique furniture there.
Without finding out exactly what the merchandise was, a contract was signed and the terms of compensation inked.
When the complex opened, the floor supervisor was shocked to discover that the "antique furniture" sold by the new tenant turned out to be Chinese coffins.
According to the story, which later became urban legend, the complex could not wait to get rid of the coffins but not before paying a hefty compensation to the operator for breach of contract.
It was no laughing matter, of course. The complex probably would have lost more in goodwill and clientele if it had allowed the coffin shop to continue.
If you have been reading this newspaper, you will now appreciate the protests by some Kepong residents against having a coffin shop in their neighbourhood.
The residents were not amused when the authorities approved the operator's "furniture" business licence. Understandably, the residents are afraid of the bad vibes the shop would bring.
Whether or not their fears are unfounded, who knows?
But ask those who are working in mortuaries or funeral parlours and they will probably tell you that there is nothing sinister about coffins or dead bodies.
They will probably laugh at you for fearing the dead when it is the living that you should be worried about
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