Colours of Ong’s Life

(Review of Watercolourist Ong Kim Seng's Book Mastering Light and Shade in Watercolour, published in the NST in August 26, 2006)

THIS is definitely not a book on watercolour painting for beginners.

But if you have mastered the basics, then Mastering Light And Shade In Watercolour will surely make a good reference.

Master watercolourist Ong Kim Seng does not waste time with the nitty-gritty in his book. Instead he sweeps you off in a single stroke to a visual adventure on his type of vibrant watercolour techniques.

The watercolour pieces that Ong painted from his overseas trips are visual delights.

This 128-paged hardcover is a storehouse of painting tips and styles that you will discover as the renowned Singaporean painter takes you through the intricate aspects of the aqua medium.

In Chapter One, under Tools of Expression, Ong briefly skims through the brushes, colour and paper - three key areas that most watercolour instruction would cover in boring detail.

Not Ong. Here, he only tells you the essentials not as an instruction but perhaps as a anecdote, sharing with you about the types of brushes he uses, the paper he prefers and his palette of colours, stopping short at the brand.

If you wondered why he didn't share with you his favourite brands - as I have seen in many watercolour instruction manuals written by art mentors of the west - perhaps this might enlighten you: "I prefer moist tubes but I don't stick with one particular brand because I like experimenting with colours from different paint companies.

Sometimes working with only one brand can create an overdependence on that brand and if through circumstances some colours are no longer available, this can be frustrating." Chapter Two takes the reader on a journey of discovery of how Ong deals with his works in specialist topics such as how light and shade (or shadow), tone, colour, contrast, shape, size, line, texture, and perspectives, can add life and vibrancy to your painting.

The light conversational-style of instruction, peppered with anecdotes of real-life situations Ong encountered during his painting trips, makes this book a gem, as much as the colourful pieces he did.

Ong starts each section with an Action Plan segment - a summary of possible options to take before you lay the first wash. These are crucial signposts that will lead you through the thicket of techniques about to be revealed in each of his work - be it composing for luminosity and contrast or working with shadow shapes.

To ensure easy understanding of the nature of light and luminosity, Ong indicates the direction of the streaming sunlight in each of the painting in discussion.

He also teaches you how to approach your initial sketch of the scene you are about to paint with a shadow plan - something I do not find in most watercolour painting books that I have read.

Although the main theme is about mastering light and shade, which are hallmarks of the artist's works, Ong shares more than just the technicalities of watercolour painting with his readers.

He also talks about true-life experiences that are hard to come by unless you paint outdoors often.

For instance, in one of the chapters, where the author talked about his work entitled Village in Peliatan, Bali, he said: "I was watched by a pack of dogs barking from a distance. I often carry a pack of biscuits with me when I paint outdoors, and I gave them a few to pacify them. They stopped their barking and I was able to paint." Such an anecdote (lots of them in this book) is invaluable to artists embarking on plein-air sessions.

Chapter 8: Critiquing Your Work is a revelation. Says the artist: "Knowing how to judge your work is just as important as knowing how to paint. It is best to critique your work by yourself and not seek the views of others. The moment you seek advice means you are not sure where the fault lies." And he goes on to teach how you can narrow down possibly problematic areas and improve or even salvage your work. This chapter rounds up the first theoretical half of the book before Ong embarks on the hands-on section.

There are altogether 10 interesting demonstrations by the artist, each showing how he approached the subjects he discussed in the earlier chapters.

Each of these shows the different stages of work - from sketch to final painting - and how each scene, under different climatic condition, is painted, step-by-step.

Although there are many watercolour instruction books, this one is unique not because it was written by a renowned artist who has won many international awards but because it is by an Asian artist.

I say this because most watercolour instruction books are authorised by artists in the West, who for most part of their lives, lived and painted in a much different climate - unlike in the tropics where colours are much more vibrant, livelier and brighter.

To paint the colours of the tropics in a medium as challenging as transparent watercolour, one needs to master the light and shades in scenaries that we are so familiar with.

 This Ong has done remarkably well.

Mastering Light and Shade in Watercolour will certainly make a good companion and an indispensable guide to any watercolourist embarking on his painting journey
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Maamor weaves magic with his brush

IF you watch Maamor Jantan at work, you will think that there is magic in his brush, for works of art seem to flow effortlessly out of it. The watercolourist usually paints without lengthy preparatory sketches or reference materials. But when his first stroke hits paper, you will see his mastery of the medium.

Whether it is a misty morning scene in Ubud, Bali, an evening panorama of a coastal village in Kelantan, or even a night scene of village folk cooking lemang on the eve of Raya, the artist paints with amazing speed.

As colours and tones are loosely laid in a variety of shapes and lines, the viewer is mesmerised and led into dream-like undulating landscapes filled with beauty. Just when the viewer thinks that is all, surprises await.

The profile of an earthen jar buried in the shadows; resting dragonflies camouflaged in thick foliage; or silhouette of crabs on rocks outlined by the setting sun are but some of the familiar things which will trigger fond memories of one's experiences.

Maamor, the eighth in a family of 10 children, was born in Kulim, Kedah, in 1961.

His family moved to Kuala Lumpur in the mid-1970s when his father, a policeman, was transferred to the city. It was at Setapak High School that Mrs Chin Peng Weng, Maamor's art teacher, inspired his first strokes in art.

"She always encouraged me regardless of what I drew or painted," said Maamor fondly."She told me to follow my heart and paint with colours that give mood to my paintings."

But the artist did not paint seriously until the early 1980s. After leaving school, he found a job at a framing shop. It not only brought him into contact with artists and collectors, but also reignited his interest in art.

"Back then my paintings were not outstanding," Maamor said with a laugh. "They were nice but hardly professional-looking. My turning point came in 1984 when my friend Raja 'Man Banting' Harman gave me a box of Rembrandt watercolours.

"When I painted with them, I saw the stark difference in my work. A prominent artist who saw my progress was so impressed that he said I had already become a professional."

The artist was none other than Khalil Ibrahim, who became Maamor's close friend and mentor, and with whom he shared many moments in later years, travelling, sketching and painting.

Without a formal art education, Maamor learned by watching nature and other artists at work. Through observation, he developed a keen eye for detail.

"Recently, I was in the vicinity of Gunung Jerai. While watching the setting sun splash its colours across the landscape, I suddenly realised that those were the very colours I had so frequently used in my works.

"I must have come across such moments a thousand times before without realising it and the colours must have somehow got etched in my mind subconsciously," he said. "Now, I know why I instinctively reach out for certain colours when I paint and how I am able to paint anything with such ease."

While painting is easy for the artist, his life's journey has been a series of challenges. Born at a time when artistic pursuits were frowned upon, his family members frequently asked why he was not interested in getting a regular job although they never discouraged him.

Maamor had two women to thank for his success. They stood by him as he worked in pursuit of his dream. One was his mother, and other, his wife Dila Ahmad.

According to Dila, she has lost count of the hardships they faced, save for one incident which is etched in her memory."At that time, we needed money to tide us over a very difficult period. A collector had told us he was interested in Maamor's work, so we took the bus all the way from Kundang to his home in Shah Alam," said Dila."But when we arrived at his house, he said he would only pay RM50 for the piece we had brought him. We had never felt so insulted."

The painting was not sold but later framed and kept as a reminder of that day."Today, I wouldn't sell it for RM5,000," said Dila. "Its sentimental value is priceless."

Although things are looking up for the artist, with his works sought after by many, life is still not easy. With their teenaged son and daughter in college, tightening their belt is still a daily routine for the couple. They are also saving up for the renovation of their small house in Kundang for Maamor to have a bigger area to work in, and more importantly, to invite his ageing mother to live with him.

Since last year, the artist has kept himself busy as a resident artist at the University of Malaya Art Gallery. Although Maamor has exhibited extensively in group shows locally and abroad, his friends have often wondered why he has yet to do a solo.

"A solo should mark an artist's mastery of his medium, not merely a showcase of what he has produced. This can only come about once an artist has consolidated all his experiences and skills," he said.

Asked when he would be holding his, Maamor, who recently celebrated his 51st birthday, said: "Soon, God willing."

Maamor is having a joint exhibition entitled "Faces" at the University of Malaya Art Gallery (UMAG) with artists Dr Wong Seng Tong, Yong Look Lam, and Calvin Chua until Nov 29. The gallery is on Level 5 of the Chancellery Building. Opening hours are 9.30am to 4.30pm; Mondays to Fridays. For details, call 03-7967 3780.

For life is for living and loving

OVER the last long weekend, I took my family to visit my friend Chris at his farm in Port Dickson.

My wife and I had decided to take a family holiday before my eldest daughter started her medical studies at the varsity next month.

The trip was also for my wife and I to catch up with Chris, whom we  had not met since he retired.

When we arrived at the farm, Chris had just returned from shopping for supplies in town. As we helped him to unload and carry the bags into the farm house, I saw how clearly excited my daughters were by the sight of the motley crew of farm animals -- some in enclosures and some roaming freely and peaceably.

Their excitement brought back cherished memories  of the fishing trips and long drives into the countryside that I took them on when they were in primary school -- trips that grew less frequent  as they entered secondary school that meant important examinations to study for and more school activities.

That afternoon,  it dawned on this father how fast time had flown.

At the farm, my daughters fed the ostriches and goats. They took pictures with the turkeys, guinea fowls, Silkies and rabbits. They even managed to coax the wild baby macaque, which the farm hands had named Gigi, into posing for a photo.

My wife was impressed by how tame and friendly the farm animals were. I said that could only be the result of  the care and kindness shown to them by the farm hands. Animals (unlike some people, sadly) know when they are loved and they will reciprocate that love with obedience and loyalty.

A couple of donkeys grazing at the far end of the farm came trotting up at Chris's call. So did the ostriches and a month-old kid in the goat pen. Even Gigi was feeding off Chris's palm like a small child as he spoke to it.

I was amazed how the animals seemed to understand him. It was like a scene out of Dr Doolittle.

My wife asked me how much it cost to run a farm. It must be quite a sum, I said. But to turn a piece of wilderness into a genuine haven for animals and a sanctuary for nature lovers like Chris had so admirably achieved must have cost much, much more.

As we were driving back to the hotel that evening, my wife commented that Chris did not look a day older than when we last saw him.

I said he must have found and drank of the fountain of youth at the farm. Plenty of fresh air and sunshine and none of stress would have formed part of the recipe of that sweet beverage.

But the most potent ingredient in that elixir must be his passion for his work. For if he did not love what he did, he would not be able to toil daily  at the farm, where some of the duties can be back-breaking, much less grow seemingly younger  while working harder than ever.

I have read that people who live their lives with passion are always full of energy and enthusiasm. They are also a joy to be with.

So is it any wonder that someone like Chris does not seem to age? Even Time, who waits for no man,  will stand still to watch this particular man living his life with such happiness and contentment!

On the opposite end, those who do not love life will have much to complain about. Instead of filling their  waking hours with dreams and hope, they invite fear, jealousy, suspicion and hate into their hearts, where they fester and corrode the soul.

They are throwing away the precious little time we have to live, love and be loved. And that is a tragedy.

Dear readers, I am taking a break from writing this column to pursue my long-neglected passion for art. If you have been following this column for the last four years, thank you for your support. My parting words to you are: Take care. And don't let modern life make you forget to how to live.

It's good move to clear one's table after meal

A COMPANY canteen across the road from our office where my colleagues and I go for lunch has just implemented the "clean up after you eat" ruling recently.

I was not aware of it after not having been there for several weeks. When I was at the canteen recently, several notices  in Mandarin caught my attention, so I asked one of my colleagues what they were about.

My colleague said the notices requested patrons to clear their tables after meals. Pails were placed in the dining area.

Those who had finished eating, I noticed, would dutifully clear their tables of the utensils and put them in the pails.

Prior to this, a canteen worker used to go around cleaning the tables. Whenever there was a large crowd, two workers would be assigned to the task so that those who had just come in to take their meals would have a place to sit and eat.

Someone said the canteen was facing manpower shortage and the new ruling was put in place. It was the most intelligent thing I have seen in an eatery. The few days that my colleagues and I were there, not one person disobeyed the ruling. After their meals, patrons would drop the dirty plates, forks, spoons, and cups into the pails. Those who were not aware of the ruling were gently reminded to do so.

I remember at one time, fast food restaurants used to ask patrons to do the same. Those who had finished eating would clear their tables and drop trays of leftovers into a special bin. Whenever I saw diners at fast food restaurants clearing their own tables, I will praise their good habits to my children and urged them to do the same.

These days, such scenarios are rare. In many fast food restaurants I have been to, most customers order, eat and just leave their leftovers and dirty plates  on the table to be cleared by the waiters and waitresses.

The reason many are not clearing the tables is because they think that cleaning the tables is part of the restaurant's service.

An excuse given by many people I asked is that if one has to pay service tax, then why should one do the restaurant operator's work? They failed to see, however, that the simple act also reflects civic mindedness.

For example, like one incident I witnessed in a fast food outlet at MRRII some time back. This fast food restaurant, which is located near the Karak highway, was understaffed.

The kitchen and counter crew members had been trying to cope with a sudden surge of customers that morning when a woman customer stormed into the premises and demanded that a table that she had chosen for her family be cleared.

When the counter staff said that it would be done as soon as someone was available, the woman raised her voice and berated the chap, before giving a lecture on good service. She even threatened to report the matter to the management if no one cleared the table.

Finally, not wishing to create a scene, the counter staff member apologised to the customers waiting in queue so that he could clear the table for the angry woman.

As the woman walked after the staff member to her table, an elderly gentleman in the queue muttered "kurang sopan" (lacking in manners) rather loudly. I was sure the woman heard it.

But whether the remark had embarrassed her sufficiently to make her think twice about being inconsiderate the next time she walks into a fast food restaurant, who knows?

Quest for authentic Penang street food

IF you were to ask me where you can find the best nasi dagang in the country, I will say in Terengganu. At the risk of being accused of bragging about my home state, I will also add that if you have tasted Terengganu nasi dagang, you will crave for no other.

Don't get me wrong. There is also the Kelantan nasi dagang, which comes pretty close to the Terengganu variety in terms of taste, but I still think Terengganu's is still better. The secret is in the rice -- Kelantan uses brown rice while Terengganu uses long grain white Siamese rice.

Steamed to perfection in coconut milk with fresh shallots, ginger and halba (fenugreek seeds) in a special steamer that can only be found in Terengganu, the nasi dagang has few equals. And once you have taken a whiff of the steaming hot rice just brought out of the steamer, you will remember it for a long time.

If you have eaten it with gulai ikan aya (local tuna) cooked with belimbing besi  Terengganu-style, I think you will not want to waste your time with other nasi dagang variants. In fact, I would be terribly offended, just like the Penangites were a few weeks ago, if someone were to tell me that Terengganu nasi dagang is not the best.

Did you read about VirtualTourist.com's ranking of  Penang in its Top 10 Best Street Food Cities? Its placement of the Pearl of the Orient, third after Bangkok and Singapore,  had ruffled quite a number of feathers in Penang. Even feuding Penang politicians have put aside their differences to defend their gastronomic pride.

But I agree with Penang people that the state has few rivals where street food is concerned. If it does not claim top spot, no one should. Really, it doesn't take discerning palates to acknowledge Penang as the region's street food paradise. The fact that you can find Penang food from Alor Star to Johor Baru --and some say even in Ho Chi Minh city --   is testimony enough. After all, how many  countries can lay claim to its indigenous dishes like Penang?

You don't hear many types of Singapore food being sold outside Lion City, do you? Save for Singapore beehoon (or Sing Chow Mai in Cantonese for  vermicelli fried with beansprouts and tomato sauce) and the Singapore rojak, I have tasted no other bearing the Lion City brand in Klang Valley hawker centres.

But visit any food court here and look for Penang assam laksa, lor bak, char kway teow, pasembur, or nasi kandar, and chances are that you will find one or two stalls professing to be from the island or Prai. If this is no indication of Penang's fame for street food, what is?

Penang's only problem, I think, is the popularity of its street food. There are so many Penang assam laksa, char kway teow, and pasembur these days that my taste buds are beginning to lose track of how the original, authentic ones tasted like anymore.

So these days, when I frequent the so-called Penang food stalls, I test to see if the food is sold by an authentic Penangite.

I will casually ask: "Loo see Peneng lang?" (You are from Penang?) and if I get answers like: "See la, gua Poolau Tikoos lai!" (Yes, I come from Pulau Tikus) or "Gua tua tsua khar lai" (I come from Bukit Mertajam), I will know that I am on the right food trail. But again you can't tell.

Last week, a "Penang lor bak" stall operator in a Kepong hawker centre surprised me when I threw the test question. The Chinese-looking lady responded in perfect Penang-Hokkien -- that she came from Medan.

Apparently, Hokkiens there speak a similar sounding  dialect. She was in fact manning the stall for a chap from Balik Pulau in Penang

More women riding motorcycles

DID you notice an increase in the number of women motorcyclists in the city lately?

The next time when you are on the road, keep a lookout for them. I know  there are more of them than, say, five years ago.

A decade ago, few women would consider riding a motorcycle in the city. Many considered it dangerous, and many more considered it unladylike.

The only places you could find women motorcyclists in those days were   small towns such as Malacca and Penang, where traffic was sparse and the only threats to motorcyclists were cyclists and stray animals.

But thanks to the debut of scooters, every woman can now enjoy the freedom of mobility that comes with owning a B2 licence. Even those wearing high heels or the tightest skirts can now ride as elegantly as she should be when seated.

Convenience could be one reason why women ride scooters and motorcycles in the city, I think. Perhaps it is due to rural-urban migration that more of the fairer sex are taking to motorcycles. Of course, there could be other reasons.

A family friend rides a motorcycle to work because she has to pick her son up from school and send him home each afternoon. She figured it was faster to ride a motorcycle from her place of work to the school and send him home during  lunchtime, before rushing back to the office. To drive would have taken her twice as long.

A female school leaver who had just obtained her first job said she needed her own transport. Her position as an advertising sales executive requires her to be highly mobile, and with the daily jams in the town centre where her office is located, it was easier to ride a scooter than drive a car. The savings she obtained would be used for paying for  stuff like expanding her wardrobe or shoes. Of course, the price many women motorcyclists are paying, she adds, is that of a fragrance with a base note strong enough to overcome the smell of smoke and exhaust fumes caught on the blouse.

While women motorcyclists are a welcome sight for sore eyes because most of them ride better than  men, some are riding with the recklessness of their male counterparts. They are not Minah Rempit - the feminine version of the notorious Mat Rempit or hellriders -- but your neighbourhood kakak, makcik or ah soh.

Last week, while stopping at the Jalan Travers pedestrian walk, a women motorcyclist who was still sporting the probationary "P" licence shot through even though the traffic lights had turned red and all vehicles had stopped. She almost knocked into an elderly man crossing the strip and could have injured him and herself badly had the man not jump out of the path.

On one morning, a woman biker almost ended up being trapped between a garbage truck and a Rapid KL bus in Jalan Bangsar. Her impatience with the slow-moving traffic had caused her to weave in and out of the lanes when  miscalculation led to  her being caught in a tight spot between the heavy vehicles.

If the driver of the garbage truck  had not been alert and  managed to stop in time, she would have been crushed when the bus veered left to stop at a bus stop ahead.

I have also seen many women riders who ride  in the blind spot of drivers (the area diagonally left of the driver's seat which is difficult to see unless the car's rear and side mirrors are properly adjusted). Any sudden left turn by the driver could easily result in a crash.

The right to ride may be universal, but on the road, chivalry is almost dead. Some male motorists don't even give way to  men, let alone to women.  Female motorcyclists have only themselves to blame if they continue to throw caution to the wind. The price to pay will be much higher than that of losing  fragrance in the traffic.

Time to fine our 'well-educated' litterbugs

LAST week, a remark by a community leader in Bukit Bintang caught my attention. In welcoming the new KL mayor, Datuk Ahmad Phesal Talib, the community leader identified three critical issues that he claimed needed the prompt attention of City Hall.

One of the issues was cleanliness. He suggested education as the solution to littering.

I was amused when I read it. His suggestion made me wonder -- can anyone teach the city's litterbugs any more than what they have already been taught?

The chap has obviously been oblivious to the many cleanliness campaigns held in the city under various names, including corporate social responsibility and gotong-royong.

Have we not seen enough posters discouraging people from dirtying our surroundings? How many of these have ended up in the drain, literally and figuratively speaking? Have we not been urged enough by the radio and the TV to love cleanliness? Still, we are in an uphill battle against the rising mound of garbage in the city.

Take a look around you. I am sure you will be able to catch litterbugs, as innocent as they come, red-handed. For instance, smokers who throw cigarette butts onto the road, who, when you catch them in the act, quickly grind the smouldering stumps with their shoes, as if they are doing you a favour by preventing a fire.

Have you ever walked by the gaming outlets and seen how the used paper gaming foils litter the outlet and its surrounding areas? Ever asked why none of the gaming companies have come up with recycling bins for punters who have failed to strike it rich to at least do some good for the environment?

Visit any eating stall, restaurant or hawker centre and check out their back alleys and drains. Ever wondered how much food waste they generate each day and how much have gone into the drains and sewers unnoticed?

To think that litterbugs in the city need to be educated on cleanliness is a load of rubbish. What they need is not education. I am sure most of them love a clean environment. The reason they still throw garbage like they own the streets is because the rubbish do not end up in their homes or backyards.

Maybe it's time we stopped kidding ourselves that more education can turn the tide against littering. Stop cracking our brains, and use the cane instead.

Make litterbugs pay. Find them and fine them. Make an example out of some so that they become examples for others. This, I think, is the best way to educate those who continue to litter.

Do you have a recipe for a happy retirement?

I LIKE Tan Sri Ahmad Fuad Ismail's recipe for retirement. In an interview with this paper last Friday, the outgoing Kuala Lumpur mayor said his most immediate plan was to cook for his family for Ramadan. He will later open a restaurant or cafe, or perhaps write a recipe book.

Having served an extended two-year term to make sure the city is better off than it was three years ago, the former mayor certainly has made a good decision to serve his family now instead.

Many of us forget that we spend a third of our lives in dreamland, and the remainder chasing those dreams and building our careers. To be able to happily retire and pursue one's passion is a blessing indeed.

In between working on our careers and taking care of our family's day-to-day needs,  the years fly by without us realising it.

When all is done and the years have flown, we may realise, sometimes too late, that we should have spent more time with our loved ones or done  the  things that we loved instead of being tied to  the workplace and being consumed by our jobs even when we are away from the office.

No doubt, some of us are happier at the workplace than anywhere else but that's a different  story.

Cooking is a great way to show love and appreciation for the people who mean a great deal to us. Panir, a friend in the food business,  told me that if one cooks with love, even a simple meal will be a feast for the person eating it. I couldn't agree more, although I am no cook.

For all the fancy food I have eaten,  nothing is more satisfying than a  plate of steaming hot rice, a fried egg, cold cucumber slices and some belacan (shrimp paste) for a dip. It is a simple meal that my mother used to prepare for the family when I was growing up.

After I got married, my wife asked why I loved this meal so much. I told her it reminded me of the hardship my family faced post-1969, when my father's grocery business was ruined by racial strife. But the meal does not only remind me of hardships, it also reminds me of our resilience in overcoming difficult times.

My wife, who grew to share my love for the simple repast, would prepare it whenever she sensed that I was having a rough day.

I am sure Fuad's family will be overjoyed when he takes over the kitchen to cook them a buka puasa meal this Ramadan.

According to Fuad, the last time he cooked dinner for his family to buka puasa with was in 2000, when he was serving as the Subang Jaya Municipal Council president. Twelve years is a long time. And what better way to catch up  than over a buka puasa meal?

The former mayor celebrates his 59th birthday today. On top of wishing him a happy birthday, I hope  he will be blessed with the good health to celebrate many birthdays to come, and to cook many more meals for his family and friends.

And when he does open a restaurant or write a recipe book one day, he can count on my patronage.

No stomach for pricey probiotics

A FRIEND who had been grappling with constipation was bursting with joy when we met up for dinner recently. He was all smiles the minute he stepped into the Chinese restaurant at Sentul Raya. He even suggested that we order the Szechuan steamed stingray, a dish he used to avoid because the black pepper would worsen his constipation.

When I asked him what had relieved him from his chronic ill, he said it was probiotics. He found out about the friendly gut bacteria at a health fair in Singapore recently.

Not only is his bowel movement now regular, even his eczema was gone, he said.

Now a probiotics evangelist, my friend actively encourages his family to go on probiotics-rich diet. That evening, he did not only explained the benefits of probiotics to me, he even gave me a list of brands to check out.

I told him that I had been taking probiotics for many years but mine did not come with fancy names nor were they imported. Mine is commonly known by it Indian name -- tairu, the plain yogurt even non-Indians can learn to make in their kitchen.

I learnt how to make yogurt years ago after Indian friends told me that tairu (creamy yogurt) or moru (the liquid counterpart) taken with a dash of salt, was not only good for the gut but also fantastic for dispelling heatiness.

I was also told that yogurt was frequently added to Indian dishes.

However, I learnt about the health benefits of lactobacillus, the good bacteria present in yogurt, way back in the early 1980s. Now I make a kilo every few days for my youngest daughter. She started taking it six months ago when I told her it would help heal mouth ulcers. I had learnt that from a book by Adele Davis, a nutritionist who pioneered the concept of eating right to keep fit.

Four decades ago, who had heard of probiotics? Or used it to keep constipation at bay? Those days, if one is constipated, doctors usually recommended laxatives, one of which is Brooklax. It looks like a small piece of Cadbury chocolate. Take it at bedtime and you will find fast relief in the morning.

Even the commercially-available cultured milk drink had yet to make its appearance back then. I remember how much trouble the salesmen had trying to explain why the lactobacillus bacteria was good for the gut to the less-educated shopper.

Those days, however, most people were already eating healthy traditional foods that contained generous amounts of good bacteria. If you recall, the Chinese have their lum yee (fermented beancurd), hak tau see (fermented black beans), phei tan (century egg) and preserved ginger.

The Malays made tapai (fermented tapioca or glutinous rice) and tempe (fermented soyabean cakes), in addition to pekasam (fermented fish).

Most Indian families made their own yogurt long before commercial ones appeared on the shelves.

Today taking probiotics have become a fad. Those who swear by it, like my friend, tell me that good probiotics should contain live cultures. The capsules have to be kept refrigerated and taken on the long-term before the effects are seen or felt. They also don't come cheap.

The way I see it, if we could just look back at what our forefathers ate and put those "peasant foods" on our table, we certainly don't need to stomach the marketing hype or be constipated paying through our noses for commercial probiotics.

Humble fare no longer small potatoes

HAVE you ever had steamed tapioca (or ubi kayu) for breakfast? It was common fare back in the old days. It was seldom sold at the stalls because it was not as popular as breakfast staples nasi lemak, nasi dagang and kuih , but it was often served at home.

Folk ate it with grated young coconut or dipped in sugar. As a kid, I ate it, too, but with ikan kering (salted fish), usually selar kuning (yellow-tailed scad).

Steamed tapioca was regarded as humble fare for the poor. It was very cheap, at only 10 cents a kati (or 600 grammes). Two katis were enough to provide an ample meal for a family of five.

Tapioca plants grow quite easily, too, and most homes would have a few planted in their backyards to provide shade for the ducks and chicken.

To grow a tapioca plant, you only need to stick a cut stem into the soil. Even with minimal care, it would mature in about 10 months to provide you with three to five tubers, each the size of a corncob. If you regularly feed the plant cow or chicken manure, it would reward you with tubers as big as a man's thigh.

Harvested tubers can keep for a long time if stored in a cool, dry place, away from the rats.

Apart from being steamed, the tubers can also be grated and baked into tapioca cakes. People also made tapioca flour at a time when cornstarch was a luxury.

Recently, at a coffee shop in Hulu Kelang, I saw plastic packets of steamed tapioca sold at RM1.50 each. Curious, I asked a friend, a regular there, if steamed tapioca was making a comeback.

The chap told me that the steamed tapioca there had found a loyal following, especially among foreign workers. A packet of steamed tapioca was more filling than regular breakfast items and much cheaper, too.

Another poor man's fare, sweet potatoes, are enjoying a revival with city folk, especially the health-conscious.

Rebranded as "wholesome, healthy snacks", roasted potatoes are selling like hot cakes at kiosks in shopping malls, especially at the one near my home. Last Thursday, curiosity and hunger got the better of me after a round of marketing there.

The growling in my stomach turned into piteous pleading at the scent of roasted sweet potatoes.

I headed for the stall, picked a yellow-skinned sweet potato slightly bigger than my fist and asked the foreigner manning the stall for the price. After putting the tuber on the electronic scale, he said, "RM7.50."

When I complained that it was expensive, he told me his sweet potatoes cost RM1.80 per 100g, the reason being they were imported from Japan. My appetite left me, and I, apologising, left the stall.

While roasted sweet potato may be a more salubrious snack than burger and fries, the indulgence would not be healthy for my wallet.

I would be literally paying through the nose if I had succumbed to the scent of nostalgia that evening. On top of that, I would be a "han choo thow" (or potatohead in Hokkien).

For lack of tastier fish to fry

SPOTTED featherbacks (ikan belida) were being sold at the Serdang pasar tani where I was recently. I had not seen this freshwater fish being sold anywhere in the Klang Valley except in aquarium shops and even then, only as pet fish.

The Cantonese call the common featherback "toh yue" or "knifefish" because of its knife-shaped silvery body. The spotted featherback, which has between seven and 10 dark spots on its lower body, is called "chat-sing toh" or seven-star knifefish. The fish can be found in unpolluted rivers, lakes and disused mining pools.

The last time I saw one sold in a wet market was in Pusing, a small town near Ipoh, three years ago. The fish measured an arm's length. I asked the Chinese man who bought the fish if it was good for eating. He said the fish had many fine bones and was best used for making fishballs, which was why some people called it freshwater ikan parang (wolf herring, a marine species traditionally used for making fishballs).

To have seen the spotted featherback in an urban wet market such as in Serdang came as a surprise because, as far as I know, the fish do not belong to the mainstream table fish species such as red tilapia, ikan sepat (Malaysian gourami), patin (river catfish) or keli (common catfish). A thought that came to my mind then was that city folk had developed a taste for exotic freshwater fish species or our fishermen was running out of common table fish species to catch. But don't be surprised if it is both.

Last week, I read that live ikan puyu (climbing perch) are fetching a good RM15 per kilogramme. The hardy fish, which can survive long periods with little or no water, can be found in abundance in padi fields, mining pools, lakes and some rivers.

In the 1970s, the ikan puyu (or ikan betuk as it is sometimes known) was not seen at dinner tables simply because there were other tastier fish. Ikan puyu were only kept in earthen jars or dropped into wells to feed on mosquito larvae.

Sometimes, they are reared in Horlicks jars placed inside the house for protection. According to an old wives' tale, the ikan puyu never sleeps, and this enables it to be able to protect premises from being broken into by burglars using "pukau" or spells. This belief was rife among the Chinese but my Malay friends also said the same of the fish in their households.

But having seen large numbers of live ikan puyu being sold in wet markets, I know it is not superstition that has inflated its price. One ikan puyu lover told me told me that the fish fried in kunyit (turmeric) powder and cili padi will make you drool for more.

If you were in Johor and had been to the fish market there last week, you would have known that the prices of fish had gone up almost 50 per cent.

A shortage of imported marine fish due to declining exports from Sumatera has caused the hike. Indonesian fishermen were not going out to sea due to bad weather and what little they caught made it unprofitable for their exporters to send their fish over here.

Our fishermen, too, failed to find fish because of the haze and this sent ripples through the fish market as consumers grabbed what they saw without worrying if the prices were a little fishy.

In such a situation, is it any wonder that unpopular fish from our inland waterways, like the spotted featherback, are now finding ready buyers in the city?

A cashew acquaintance from the past

I WAS jogging at Lake Titiwangsa in Jalan Kuantan last week when I spotted an elderly chap trying to pluck a fruit from a tree.

Although it was already sunset, the chap, who was dressed in sports attire, paid no heed to the failing daylight. He was trying to reach some fruits on a broad-leafed tree using a bamboo pole.

As I got nearer, I saw that he was trying to hit the ripe fruit of a cashew tree. He finally succeeded but the fruit was reduced to pulp upon hitting the ground. Letting out a sigh, he sought out another fruit.

Curious, I asked the man if he knew what the fruit was. Happily, he replied that he didn't know but it had tasted nice the first time he ate it, and he had been plucking them every time he was at the park since.

Another chap who happened to be around that evening was amused. "City people," he said to me under his breath. "They don't even know a cashew tree when they see one."

"It's not surprising," I replied. "There are not many places in the city these days that you can find cashew trees growing wild."

In the early 1970s, there were quite a number of them in Gombak and Sentul. Today, I can only find one near Kampung Puah. The tree grows in the compound of a Malay house but I don't recall ever seeing it fruit.

If you want to see a cashew tree today, I suppose you will have to go to Lake Titiwangsa's pony riding track.

The cashew trees are planted near the stables, but I doubt you will recognise the tree unless you have previously seen one.

You may have tried the cashew shoots though, as ulam (Malay raw herb and vegetable salad), perhaps. And you may even have mistaken them for something else as cashew shoots exude a sharp, citrusy fragrance when bitten into.

There were plenty of cashew trees in Terengganu where I grew up. The trees grew well along the beach. Folk collected the seeds when the fruits ripened. In fact, it is the only fruit which seeds develop outside the flesh. It is this peculiarity that gave birth to a "pantun teka-teki" (quatrain riddle), which goes like this:

"Anak kera naik keldai
Keldai pula memakai seluar
Kalau tuan bijak pandai,
Buah apa bijinya di luar?"

The riddle asks if you know which fruit bears its seed on the outside. Pupils used to recite the poem to test the general knowledge of their peers during my schooldays.

As far as I know, cashew fruits are seldom eaten because they taste "kelat" - a Malay term which English equivalent I have yet to find.

The sap is believed to cause lip ulcers on sensitive skin.

Only the seeds are sought after, roasted and eaten like nuts.

These days, electric ovens are used to roast the cashew nuts. In the past, we fried them in heated "pasir garam" or fine sand along the beach.

According to an online report I recently read, cashew nuts are rich in fatty acids that can lower the bad and raise the good cholesterol.

They are also good stores of minerals and essential vitamins, including zeaxanthin, an antioxidant that protects the eye.

An old wives' tale, however, has it that eating cashew nuts can cause newly-closed wounds to re-open and existing ones harder to heal.

Follow Chukai's paperless carpark

LOCAL authorities in cities should occasionally visit small towns and take a look at how things are run by their counterparts there. Sometimes, if they are lucky, they may learn something useful.

Many years ago, before the digital countdown traffic lights arrived in the Klang Valley, they were already used in Malacca. From what I was told when I first saw one there, a particular junction in Malacca town had the highest accident rate among motorcyclists before the lights were installed.

Apparently, motorcyclists and some motorists tend to speed past the junction whenever the lights were amber, not knowing that the red light would come on in a split second.

When the digital countdown was installed, car drivers and motorcyclists were then able to estimate whether they could make it past the junction before the lights turned red and before traffic from the other side moved across the junction. This has reduced accidents tremendously.

Last week, when I was in Chukai, Kemaman, I decided to drop by Hai Peng coffee shop for roti paong (local coal oven baked bread) and its famous coffee. There were no parking bays along the road near the shop, so I parked at the open car park across the road.

If you have been to this car park, you will agree that this could be one of the most environment-friendly parking systems that can be adopted by local authorities in the Klang Valley, to add to their green effort.

This car park does not use tickets that often end up being discarded indiscriminately and choking drains.

The parking area is colour-coded. Each parking bay has a number. You only need to locate an empty bay, park, and note the bay number and colour of the section.

Then you walk to the electronic parking terminal that has the same colour code, punch in the duration you need to park and pay into the machine.

The machine does not issue tickets. The parking duration is instead displayed digitally on the terminal.

The parking enforcement officer only needs to check the meter for bays where the parking duration have expired and walk to the illegally-parked car to issue a summons.

I don't know if this system is implemented anywhere else in the country, but I have not seen it in Kuala Lumpur, Petaling Jaya, Klang or even Malacca.

Most parking meters I have come across issue tickets that motorists then had to display openly on the dashboard. Others, like Malacca, use pre-paid coupons that you have to scratch out and display on your dashboard.

Both systems are not environment-friendly since they use paper. Chukai's parking system is paperless and it means less discarded paper get into the drains and fewer trees need to be cut to make the coupons.

I wouldn't be surprised if the Chukai parking system is cheaper to maintain as well.

Be alert always even in seemingly safe areas

LAST week, the Internet was abuzz with a first account posting by Internet marketeer Chin Xin-Ci who related her experience of being abducted at a shopping complex in Mutiara Damansara.

The story, which was posted on Chin's Facebook page, was titled "30 hours ago, I escaped from being kidnapped". Uploaded in the wee hours of May 29, the story went viral with over 45,000 shares over the next few days.

According to the posting, Chin was abducted from the mall's car park by two men after she had paid for her parking ticket and was about to leave. One of her abductors, armed with a meat cleaver, surprised her when she was putting her stuff into the rear seat. Despite having the cleaver pressed against her throat and realising what was happening, Chin did not appear to panic but put herself in a position to escape without raising the suspicion of her abductors.

As the other abductor who drove the car slowed down to exit the mall's parking lot, Chin saw the opportunity to escape.

She opened the car door, fought with her abductor in the rear seat, and made a run for it. Except for scratches and bruises, Chin was safe. She even managed to post her harrowing experience on Facebook to alert others.

Chin was lucky. Few women, even men, can keep calm under such a stressful condition. Not panicking gave her the clarity of mind to think of an escape when opportunity presented itself. Not many people can react with such presence of mind. What she did was extraordinary.

When we visit a shopping complex or any high traffic area, we are unconsciously reassured by the presence of the crowd, security officers, as well as the sight of closed circuit television cameras (CCTVs). Unless you are sceptical, chances are that you will even believe that someone alert is monitoring the area from the security room. You see it in the movies and often you think it is the same in real life.

Only when cases like Chin's come to light, you begin to think again and start to worry for your safety.

If the Canny Ong tragedy has taught society any lesson, it should be to always tread with caution when in public places, especially dimly-lit and secluded areas like underground car parks and alleys. Those that appear safe may not be, despite what people tell you.

Sure, most shopping complexes in the city have CCTVs and you see them most of the time. Some of us even try to park near the pillars where they were mounted so that thieves will not break into your vehicle and steal your valuables.

But in reality, have you ever wondered if the electronic eyes are in good working condition?

Are they able to capture events that transpired within their scope clearly, under the lowest lighting condition?

Are those manning the CCTVs trained to watch out for suspicious characters and be alert enough to identify a crime in progress? And if such event occurred, how fast would the security personnel come to your aid if you are a victim?

These days, very few shopping complexes position ticket cashiers at the exits of their car parks. To cut costs, electronic payment booths are provided. This system reduces a long queue at the gates and saves the complexes manpower costs.

There is usually CCTVs at exit points but I suspect these are to keep an eye on people who may try to exit without paying.

Without human presence at the exit point, the CCTV recordings may be too late when it comes to preventing a tragedy.

The way I see it, you have to be alert always. Forget about how safe you feel in familiar places.

Keep your eyes on your surroundings at all times. Watch out for anything suspicious even if you choose not to park at a low-lit or secluded end of the car park.

By being alert at all times, you would never know when you might save your own life or that of another person even in the seemingly safe areas.

Hunger for knowledge leads one to develop questioning mind

WHEN I entered secondary school in the 1970s, one of the things my form teacher told his students was if we wanted to lead interesting lives, we should try to improve our general knowledge. So serious was he that he dedicated a period each week to a "general knowledge" class.

During the "general knowledge" period, which was held on a Friday, students were divided into teams and pitted against each other in a quiz - with questions set by students themselves. Mostly the questions were about stuff not found in school books.

The "general knowledge" class was so interesting that it became the highlight of our school week, and absenteeism was zero. There were no prizes for "winners" except bragging rights.

The best were affectionately nicknamed "walking encyclopaedias", a titled worn with pride those days.

The weekly drill for things we did not know unconsciously made us hungry for general knowledge and the quest for more cultivated in us a curious, questioning mind. Those who knew most in school those days went on to not only do well academically, but also were successful in later years.

One chap surnamed Lim, whom my classmates and I nicknamed the "professor" because of the wide range of stuff he knew, later went on to become an adviser to a prestigious foreign-based financial organisation.

Although general knowledge did not make it as a subject in schools, like living skills, I recall owning a book written about it. Simply titled General Knowledge, the red book about the size of a desk diary was published by Preston, if I am not mistaken, and cost a princely $9.75 then.

I came across General Knowledge by chance at one of the bookshops in Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman and my bamboo coinbox became the casualty. Although my savings were intended for a shortwave radio I had been eyeing for weeks earlier, the book got the financing first because the copy I found was the last the bookshop had.

One of the reasons I bought the book was to help me write better compositions. The other reason was because I could not afford the better "general knowledge" books my friends owned -- the Encyclopaedia Britannica. They were way out of reach for my father's finances.

But General Knowledge was just as useful in its portability as what it contained. The content was a storehouse of facts and trivia that ranged from general science to astronomy, and geography to world history as well as mathematical formulas to determine stuff like volume, surface area, distance, etc.

I have not seen books like it today and I regret that I have lost mine before my children could read it.

Of course, my children, like yours, are well-versed with the Internet today and they have access to information no encyclopaedia during my time could provide. But sometimes, I wish they had developed the same curiosity and thirst for knowledge my classmates and I had.

Perhaps it was easier those days for people to read meaningful books, newspapers and other periodicals when there was no Internet or entertainment to distract them.

Maybe people from our generation owe it to our teachers - the few rare ones who were highly knowledgeable and who took the trouble to plant seeds of curiosity to make us who we are today.

Do not make light of your child's safety

RECENTLY, on my way to work in the morning, while waiting to make a U-turn at the underpass near the Abdullah Hukum LRT station, I noticed a little girl about 5 years old running along the skirting of the building.

Walking behind her was a woman, probably in her 30s. It could have been the girl's mother since there was no one else at the ground floor of the station.

The woman did not appear concerned over what the little girl was doing. She was so engrossed with something on her handphone that she was not even looking where she was going, let alone pay attention to the little girl who was a leap away from the rush-hour traffic.

The first thought that came to mind was the safety of the child. If something were to happen, there was no way her mother, who was at least 30 metres away, could do anything to save her.

My thoughts were not of the girl being abducted. I was thinking of the obvious dangers on the road that morning.

With the heavy traffic at the time, a dash onto the road could have spelt instant tragedy for the young child and her family. And who would be blamed then?

When a tragedy befalls a child, we read of parents rationalising the incident by accepting it as fate.

Society, in cushioning the impact of the grief and not wishing to add more pain, also absolves itself of the guilt. We should not blame the parents, they have suffered enough, we console them.

But why not, especially in obvious cases of sheer irresponsibility like what I saw that morning?

It was not the first time I had come across such acts of irresponsibility. I had seen many parents take their eyes off their children in shopping complexes and supermarket, areas they presume to be safe just because they had been there countless times.

God knows how many times I have heard the public address system announcing cases of young children who had "lost" their parents. Sometimes, there were several cases within the hour. In most cases, the parents get so engrossed in their shopping, they did not realise their children had wandered off.

Once, I happened to be at the information counter when a crying child was brought to there. Minutes after the announcement was made, a woman with the child's several older siblings in tow came to claim the 5-year-old boy. I asked the mother if she was not worried that the boy would be abducted.

The mother replied that her son was mischievous, and without even thinking, said: "Maybe it will teach him a lesson not to wander off next time."

I was speechless when I saw how she had justified her lack of attention, and irresponsibility. Indeed, if the child had truly gone missing, the lesson would have been hers to learn, and one probably too late to benefit from.

When cleanliness of tableware matters most

A TOURIST, who shared our table at a packed restaurant recently, asked my friend Sham why he was eating using his hands instead of using a fork and spoon. Sham replied that it has been his habit.

Unless he was at a formal function or when situations did not allow him to do so, like partaking in a Japanese dinner where chopsticks are used, he said, he would rather eat with his fingers.

"I feel more comfortable using my fingers," Sham said.

"Food tastes better when you eat with your fingers. If you are eating fish, you can also feel for the tiny bones, which you otherwise could miss if you used fork and spoon."

I agree with Sham. Sometimes you can trust your fingers better than the fork and spoons provided by the eateries. People who eat with their fingers are in control of their hygiene provided they always wash their hands properly.

You can't say for sure the forks and spoons at eateries are clean these days. I have seen my fair share of stained ones, both at the stalls and at the 24-hour restaurants -- even if some of them are nicely wrapped up in colourful serviettes.

Of course, the stained forks and spoons would have easily escaped notice had I not make a habit to give a closer look.

At the stalls, I have been put off by dirty little baskets that gleaming forks and spoons are kept in.

I have seen too many ants and cockroaches crawling out of these containers which have been left overnight in the open.

These days, I make an effort to clean the forks and spoons with plain water first before using them. I also asked my wife and children to do the same, for you can never tell if the owners of the eating places take the trouble to wash the utensils properly before storing them.

I know some food operators who just leave their forks and spoons on the tables when they close at night.

Who can say that the improperly wiped tables and unseen food scraps left there did not attract rats onto the tables where these utensils are and soiled them with their urine or faeces?

Of course, there is no point in getting too paranoid over cleanliness. You might even say that taking the trouble to wash these may not guarantee full protection. But at least, you would have reduced the odds of getting ill, wouldn't you?

When eating at the Chinese stalls where the chopsticks are not properly kept but left standing in open chopstick holders, another friend often looked for preserved green chillies. She often dipped her chopsticks into the vinegar solution used to preserve the chillies.

Apparently she was discreetly using the vinegar to "sterilise" her chopsticks, especially when the stall did not have tap water for washing them.

A 15-second dip, she said, was enough to kill most germs. So far, she has been free of food poisoning. My only worry is she may get herself into trouble with the stall keepers one of these days.

No free ride for parking-lot hogs

THE rampant hogging of parking bays in space-challenged commercial areas continues to plague local councils, especially those with booming commercial districts under their jurisdiction. Whether it is in Wangsa Maju, Kelana Jaya, Pandan Jaya, Puchong or Klang, the culprits are usually business owners who claim the parking space in front of their premises for their own.

Understandably, some businesses such as motor workshops and car accessories retailers need to keep the space in front of their shops free for customers's vehicles in for service.

Supermarkets, too, sometimes reserve space for suppliers to unload goods.

However, when the proprietors peremptorily cordon off these parking bays without the respective council's consent and without paying rent, they are not only depriving the public of parking facilities, they are also robbing the local authorities of revenue.

Some seal off parking bays with makeshift no-parking signs, cones and chains. The braver ones even paint over the existing parking bays to claim them as private property.

Perhaps, the biggest abusers of public parking space are the operators of eateries. While business is good, the cost of a proper extension or renting bigger premises would eat into the profits; thus these clever businessmen set up more tables and chairs on the five-foot ways and the adjacent parking lots.

Parking space hogs are not a new breed. These spectres have made their rounds in the newsrooms, and risen their heads at many council meetings. How they have eluded capture is anyone's guess.

By law, placing any form of obstruction on a designated public parking lot is illegal. Unless you have rented the space from the local authority, you cannot simply make it your own.

Those who occupy parking space illegally can be slapped with a fine -- but only if the local authorities choose to act.

Most local authorities are relaxed about it -- until the issue is highlighted by the media. Otherwise, those who hog parking space continue to do so blatantly, causing congestion and giving errant motorists the excuse to double park.

Local councils take into consideration population density before they approve the development orders of projects, Can they not consider vehicular traffic density before approving the licences of businesses that are likely to hog parking space?

Visit any new business district and chances are, you will see that the motor workshops, car accessories dealers, vehicle exhaust installers and tinting shops have zoomed in there as quickly as the eateries, there.

Before you know it, the parking bays in front of these business premises have become their private property that they reserve for their clients.

At the very least, those hogging parking space should be made to pay rent. This way, even if the public is deprived of parking space, the local authority is not losing parking revenue.

After all, the facilities need to be maintained, and maintenance needs money. Surely the ratepayer need not pay for the upkeep of facilities that he may not use.

Local authorities, which allow such blatant disregard for the law to continue by not acting against the culprits, are losing the ratepayers' goodwill, and worse, the public's faith in their integrity.

Reaping benefits from organic waste

THREE years ago, I found out how to make garbage enzyme by fermenting kitchen waste. Someone had sent me a link to an online story about a chap who made garbage enzyme from kitchen waste.

According to the story, one of the by-products of making garbage enzyme is ozone.

The enzyme maker said that if all households worldwide were to make garbage enzyme, we would be able to replenish the depleting ozone layer.

However, what attracted me to garbage enzyme at that time was more than ozone production.

I was interested because I had also read that garbage enzyme could be an effective alternative to cleaning detergent, especially for cleaning toilet bowls, the bathroom walls and floors.

I was getting tired of using pricey chemicals that seemed to lose their effectiveness once the products became too popular.

At that time, I had also found out from my neighbour Simon that his wife had been making garbage enzyme for household use.

One evening when I visited them, I had commented about how white their marble floor looked. Simon's wife told me that she had used liquid from fermented pineapple peels.

By fermenting pineapple peels in a solution of brown sugar, the resulting enzyme when used for cleaning the floors, she said, would not only give their marble floor a shine but also make it look whiter.

I was convinced.

My first venture was lime peel enzyme - made by fermenting lime peels I had collected from a drinks stall near the office.

Two kilos of lime peels fermented in 10 litres of brown sugar solution over three months provided me with enough enzyme for over four months.

My cost was less than RM10 for a bag of brown sugar. The enzyme, when diluted with water, not only cleaned the floor of my condo's corridor better than bleaching agents but it left a lovely lime scent.

I also found that there were fewer ants there these days.

Last week, the Subang Jaya Municipal Council (MPSJ) became the first local council in the country to venture into turning market waste into fertiliser and fuel, through vermicomposting and anaerobic digestion processes, respectively.

The project between MPSJ, Universiti Putra Malaysia and traders being undertaken at Taman Sri Serdang market is part of the Serdang Green Town programme launched last month.

Vermicomposting uses earthworms to turn vegetables, meat and other perishable wastes into organic fertiliser while anaerobic digestion uses microorganisms under little or no oxygen conditions to break down wastes and produce energy.

Similar to the making of garbage enzyme, vermicomposting and anaerobic digestion are friendlier means to get rid of organic wastes.

According to the news report, MPSJ's effort will help reduce two tonnes of organic waste at Taman Sri Serdang market daily.

The organic fertiliser generated from the vermicompost will be shared between the council and the traders while the biogas produced from anaerobic digestion will be used to power the market's generator set.

I wish other councils will take the cue from the MPSJ to do their bit for the environment. Market wastes often end up choking the drains, or if dumped at landfills, generate more greenhouse gases that contribute to global warming.

By using vermicompost or anaerobic digestion to deal with such wastes, local councils not only save on having to buy fertilisers for their parks and nurseries, they can also save themselves the headache of looking for landfills and clearing choked drains.

Disabled drivers who endanger themselves

IS there a speed limit for disabled persons riding modified motorcycles? I am asking this because of what I saw on the Middle Ring Road recently while I was on the way to Sri Damansara from Batu Caves.

I was driving at 70kph on the elevated highway when a disabled motorcyclist overtook me on the two-lane road.

I doubt the chap, who was riding a modified cub with a rear three-wheel set-up, was aware of the speed at which he was going. He must have been travelling at no less than 90kph before he disappeared into the distance.

The incident was not the first time I had seen a disabled motorcyclist throwing caution to the wind.

Some months back, I saw one who was following a train of bikers riding up the road shoulders to avoid the traffic jam on the road.

The fact the disabled biker almost lost control of his machine when one of his rear wheels slipped did not appear to frighten him, as he tried to maintain balance on what I thought was a narrow ledge for the modified bike.

Another encounter I had was near Sentul Pasar one morning. A makcik with a disability was riding a special motorcycle with a signboard mounted in the rear. The signboard that read orang kurang upaya (or OKU referring to person with disability) was written in a font large enough to be legible from at least 10m.

I thought that was how all bikes for the disabled should be set up. Seeing the makcik riding slowly on the left lane, I also thought that she was a fine example for other disabled bikers to emulate until I noticed that she was not even wearing a helmet. The only covering on her head was a red headscarf.

The traffic policeman, who was busy manning traffic at a zebra crossing there, must have missed it or he would have given her a summons for riding without a helmet.

Once, while travelling from Malacca to Kuala Lumpur along the North-South Expressway, I found myself behind a very slow moving MPV. I thought the driver must have been catching forty winks when I noticed the OKU sticker on the rear windscreen.

But as I was overtaking the MPV, I saw a middle-aged man driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other, a mobile phone. He was either surfing the Net or he was trying to text someone. When he saw me staring at him, he didn't look surprised, and he continued with what he was doing.

I get angry whenever I see able-bodied motorists depriving the disabled of the OKU parking lots or when they do not give way to the latter when on the road. But when disabled bikers or motorists do not show concern for their safety or that of others by riding or driving recklessly, it drives me up the wall.