To celebrate, to remember: my father

"Take care of the house, the dogs, the chickens, fertilise the plants and take care of mum," was one of the last things my father told me. I struggle to remember the exact last words he told me before he was sedated - to help him recover faster. However, the last memory of me reading Jeffrey Archer to him would be something I will forever cherish. 

The past week, my family and I were overwhelmed with the love and support from friends and family near and far. For me, hearing about his life as a lawyer, politician and friend was comforting and refreshing, as his daughter, intentionally or not, I was not able to experience him as someone other than my father. 

This piece is dedicated to remembering him as a father, hoping that it can bring comfort to you as your tributes/eulogy have comforted me. 

For those who were there for my dad's 60th birthday party, you might remember me saying that my dad and I never had a daddy's princess sort of relationship. My father showed affection slightly differently, mainly through his stern lectures. It was hard, trying to live up to his expectations as his firstborn, especially through my teenage years. I felt like I was constantly being pushed into a corner - to be a lawyer, to join politics, to follow in his footsteps. However, this pressure was all in my head, an expectation I have set for myself. 

In truth, my father has always supported me, despite how crazy my dreams and ambitions were. When I first told him I wanted to study English Literature and be a journalist, he bought me books on literature and writing. When I wanted to take 4 weeks off of Malaysian school to attend summer school in Oxford - he let me, with little resistance. When fencing started becoming competitive for me, he made sure I had the necessary equipments, checked in after every competition, had thanksgiving dinners after each victory. When I got into University of Bath for psychology, he was there for my first day - to make sure I was all settled down. When I graduated, he took 3 days off from his role as a cabinet minister to attend my graduation. When I landed my first job as a consultant in the inclusion and diversity field and in women empowerment, he tried to help in any way he can (even pushed for the sexual harassment act, which has been in the works since the 90s). 

In hindsight, his tough love, was the warmest love a father could give.

My father and I after I came back with my gold medal in fencing. 'Next stop, Olympics' he said. [2012]

At his favourite restaurant, Ang's Hotel [2016]

At my mother's 55th birthday surprised birthday party, all planned by my father. [2018] 

My dad is one full of (recycled and reused) jokes and silly antics. He hardly ever brought home his work, it seems like the moment he steps into his home and changes into his house clothes (usually a loose t-shirt and his sarong), he becomes a stay-at-home dad who loves his garden, his chickens and dogs. My home has never looked the same each time I come back, there is always something he is changing, adding and upgrading. He wanted to create a space where he can be at home and still be able to host people from all walks of life - I think he managed to do that, with great success. 

With the Children's Liturgy Caroling team [2018]

My dad always, always puts family first. His tough love extends to my cousins, their children and beyond. He took pride in how diverse our family is and how we all, in general, get along. This pride extended to the whole state of Sabah, and I know he fought hard to ensure not only this harmonious living continues here but that it can influence the rest of the nation to follow suit. Lest forget his efforts in the MA63 fight. He really fought tooth and nail to ensure Sabah and Sarawak gets their status as partners restored. 

Funny enough, this was when I started to really have proper conversations with my father surrounding politics. When the votes did not go through in parliament, he took leave mid-year to fly over to London to get his mind off things. I took a bus from Bath to see him. Over dinner with just the two of us (no entourage, no meetings to go to - very rare), we discussed why few MPs abstained, how important the vote was...and if he will ever retire from politics. He told me that he'd love to one day but his then boss, a 93-year old, has set the retirement age too high. From that night onwards, whenever I needed a sounding board to understand the mess that is Malaysian politics, I go to him. Eventually, I decided to record our conversations and turn it into a podcast: Conversations with my Father. Now, it has become my go-to playlist whenever I need to hear his voice. 

My father loved being behind the camera. Our house is just filled with photographs. [2014]

My father also loves the Word and the Lord. He hangs bible verses all around the house and constantly quotes bible verses to us when we were in difficult situations. Every celebration and even tribulations, he trusted in God and made sure we all prayed and celebrated in His name. This meant a lot of thanksgiving mass at home and yes, more gatherings and parties. His faith in Christ has also made his passing slightly more comforting to me as I know he is no longer in pain and back in the arms of the Lord.

At my parents' 24th wedding anniversary thanksgiving mass. I'll miss holding your hands pa. [2019]

Having said that, part of me still struggles to accept that he is really gone. Part of me still expects to hear the door open and see him come through the door, back from his travels to KL, Sandakan or a meeting. Part of me still wants to see him sitting in his favourite spot near the fishes, drinking his favourite durian coffee. I have learned so much from him, yet I still need his guidance in so much more. Definitely needed his opinion on the current political situation in Sabah and Malaysia but alas, I would have to wait till I meet him again in the new life. 

I know there is still so much to my father that I have yet to talk about - his love for photography, for adventures, for whiskey and cigars. However, I'm pretty sure you all reading already are aware of this and plenty has already shared what kind of person he meant to you. I thought I'd share how he was as my father - just so we can all continue to celebrate his life with this knowledge. Not sure how long it will take me to stop tearing up whenever I think of him, but I know with the love and support from all of you, family and friends - this incredibly difficult time has been so much more easier to go through. 

Our final family portrait [2020]

"Enough lah, enough, Ying. Be strong. I need you to be strong, I am okay" was what he whispered to me, 2 days after his passing. It was then, I realised that I am the one to continue his legacy and I know he wants me to be ready, when the time comes. Here's to hoping, he continues to whisper to me when I need him the most. Pa, I'll continue to make you proud. 

<3

A distraction: a short story

Let this be a distraction to all the news, to all the 'self-improvement' achievements on social media, to all the covidiocy.

Here's a story for you:

A girl sits on the edge of her seat as the bus drew closer to her stop. She reached out, pressed the bell and the bus came to an immediate halt right next to the bus stop, throwing her off her seat. It was a late weekday evening in a small town, she was the only one in the bus.

'Sorry,' she mumbled to the bus driver as she got off. 'Thanks,' she tried to say as the bus driver closed the doors behind her and sped away. Possibly it's the end of his shift, she thought. Perhaps he is rushing home to have dinner with his family. How nice. 

A cold breeze snapped her back into reality before she falls into a pity party in her brain. She remembered why she was out. The warm lights from the restaurant was the only source of light and life in an otherwise dead part of a sleepy town. She walked towards it, took a deep breath and pushed through the doors of this 6-table bistro.

There he is, just as he said he would be. A weight came off her shoulder that she was not aware she was carrying, but for the longest time, she felt relieved. The restaurant had a few patrons but he managed to get the table by the fireside. Just like when we first met.

He looked up as she entered the room, stood up from his seat, opened his arms and gave her the biggest smile. I've missed that smile. Suddenly, she felt a tinge of sadness but she stopped herself before she could feel any further.

'It's been awhile,' he said as he bear-hugged her. 'Yes.. it has,' she said between breaths as she recovers from the physical contact that knocked the winds out of her.

'So, any drinks? Starters?' he asked as he skims the single-sheet two paged menu.

'Actually, Mark, can we just have water for now?' she quickly interject as the waiter/owner/manager approaches the table. 'Just some tap water for now please,' she turned to the multi-role person with a pen and a pad before Mark could interject.

'Everything okay? You never say no to drinks and starters when we're here,' he asked as a concerned look grows on his face.

'Look Mark, I think, we need to stop whatever we are doing. We've been doing this for months and...' I just can't anymore. 

'But I love you Kira. I thought you love me too,' he said as he tried to hold her clenched fists on the table.

'No, you don't. You love the idea of having someone to care for, you love the idea of being attached to someone and you love the idea of having someone to call when you want to talk. But you, don't love me.' she said as calm as composed as she could. No, tearducts, don't ruin this for me.'

'How else am I supposed to love you then when the only way to express it is through our phone calls?' he said as he matched her calmness.
But in reality, Mark could hardly believe the conversation he was having. He thought tonight was going to be the beginning of something that could last. After all this while, the distance, the pain, the dilemmas, he finally decided to choose her. He reached into the pocket of his bomber jacket and squeezed the box.

'It's not what you did but how you did it, Mark,' shit, it's getting too cliche and cringy now. 'I am always the first to call, the first to plan things. The past few months, you've never once made plans to come visit me. You keep saying that I put way more effort into this than you, but you never stepped up. You knew the effort one puts in to make it work but you don't act on it. Tell me if that's love to you.' She looked at him straight in the eye, she wanted to pick up any signs of hesitation, admission and guilt. However, after all this while, to her, he was still like a brick wall, harder to read than her prison patients.

'You're right, that's not love to you. But that's love to me. I let you call because I know you plan your days to make time to talk to me, I let you plan our getaways because I know you'll include surprises for me and I just love seeing your face light up when I like it. I couldn't come visit you because I know your family will hunt me down when they know I was there with you.'

But now is different, Mark. My family, they are all in the past now.

'I know things are different now and I admit that I did not put in the effort. But I want to, I want to make the effort now.'

This caught her by surprise, she was looking at the face of a man who she once thought the world of, now begging for her to give him a chance. But I have to keep my cool, this must end today, or else I might just kill myself to get rid of the pain. 

'No, Mark. You can't put in the effort now, it really is too late. I'm sorry but I can't go on with this any longer.' She knew she has said enough and stood up to leave. The waiter-owner came over with the menu and she quickly interjected, 'I'm sorry but I don't think I'll be ordering.' As she left for the doors, part of her wished he shouted for her, hugged her and begged her to not leave, again.

But he never did. All the times she has had this conversation with him, he never did.

As she pushed through the doors, the resisted the urge to look back and walked confidently to the bus stop. A relief, I did it. I am free now.

The waiter-owner looked out of his small bistro's window and sighed. 'It's been a month now,' he said to himself. He picked up the one glass of water and wiped the table.

'Is she okay?' asked a patron who has been observing her since she walked in 15 minutes ago.

'Well, past few weeks she only stared into space for 5 minutes then leave sobbing. But today, she did not shed a single tear. I think she is okay now,' the owner replied, almost to himself as he wipes down the empty table by the fireside that has only served one for 30 days.

Maybe I won't have to come back tomorrow. 

She smiled to herself and waved down the bus.

-----

Well that was quite a fun story to write! Mark & 'the girl' is actually a very complicated love story that I have had in my head for quite a while. I wrote about how they met here and since then, their story has only existed in my brain and a few scribblings on napkins. Thought I'd share how they ended things (or did they? Is Mark still alive?)

Hope you all enjoyed reading this! It was a fun distraction for me whilst I prepare for the most intensive two weeks of my life (work-wise).

Hope you are all staying safe (BY STAYING HOME - looking at you, joggers). Let's just flatten the damn curve so I can go out and pretend to be an extrovert.

Till then,
Liza x

Lockdown breakdown: week one of solitude

How is everyone holding up? To all social butterflies, are you coping well?
To all home-bodies, hope you are enjoying paradise. 

This marks my 7th day of living *completely* alone. Today, I decided to stop using the word, 'isolation' as personally, it implies that I am all by myself, but I am not. Family and friends are well within reach (virutally) and I have God to talk to as well. What I am right now, is in solitude.

My last visit to Tg Aru back in Feb. An outdoor picture to counter my window view. 

Funny how a year and a half ago I was writing about being in complete isolation and struggling to find peace within myself and now, all I can feel is peace within myself. It's comforting to know that I have grown so much since my last low-mood episode in late 2018.
Now, that is not to say that all is rainbows and sunshine ever since. The fear of going back into that dark spiral is still real and there, but now I have a toolbox of things that can help me fight that fear head on. Okay, enough about my mental health growth.

The reason why I felt compelled to write today is because this Movement Control Order (or MoCO Loco) has brought up a lot of emotions and thoughts I'd like to articulate and put it out there.

In the initial stages of the breakout, I have to admit, I was not afraid of getting it, because I know that my immune system is strong and I have a higher chance of recovering from it. Now, that was a selfish thought. When my boss suggested we started working from home last week, I already started making plans to fly home on the Friday (2 days after the MoCO Loco came into effect). Another selfish thought. 

That same night of booking my flight, I couldn't sleep. The ethical dilemma was keeping me awake, do I travel and risk carrying the virus with me but I still get to be with family OR do I stay put for 14 days and be with myself? I tried to reason myself into accepting the first thought (be with family) because I was not sure how I would cope with 2-weeks alone by myself. I turned to my good friend Immanuel Kant and questioned what my moral duty is as a citizen and that gave me the answer.

The whole point of this MoCO Loco is to restrict movement just for 14 days to curb the spread and 'flatten the curve'. 

It is a short-term inconvenience for a long-term success in stopping the spread of this unfamiliar disease. The last thing we all want right now is losing a family member and not being able to be there with them. However, we humans always struggle to see the long-term and turn up that fight-or-flight programme to irrational panic.

It's human to want to be with our loved ones, it's human to want to catch that first bus/flight home, it's human to hoard food and supplies for our family. Unfortunately, it is these human behaviours that will make things worse. I was about to take part in these behaviours but empathy and moral rationality stopped me. I can still video call people and I have got my cousins to send me daily videos of their children (i.e. the apples of my eyes) to keep me company. I'd choose that over having one of them added to the infected statistic due to my thoughtless travelling. So here I am, on day 7 of 14 (longer?) by myself.

Video-call with the fam. How great
technology is! (Also, I had like half a
bottle of wine)

I know for some, especially those overseas, making this decision is so much harder. I have been talking to friends who have decided to stay put where they are and I know it is a heartbreaking to come to this but these are unprecedented times and they have accepted it. I also know of friends who have still decided to travel home, I know you have thought hard about this and sometimes, it is your family's decision. I fully respect that and appreciate that you all have been taking the necessary precautions.

These are uncertain times and we all must do what we can to stop this from hurting others. Like what most people have been preaching, this MoCO Loco is not about you, it's about the elderly, those with immunity-disorders, those who are fighting on the frontlines - doctors, nurses, police, the uncle/autny opening the grocery stores, those still operating tolls/gas stations, our food/grocery delivery heroes.



Fortunately, crisis mode also brings out the angels of our nature. Caremongering is slowly spreading and helping to reach out to those who really need help. This is when technology and social media helps mobilise social action: people offering help and people seeking help. Soup kitchens still being able to feed the homeless, single parents still able to get groceries delivered to them, elderly and sick still being able to get their medication - all because the community has come together to help one another (taking all necessary precations of course, don't @ me, you pedantic lunatics).

I wanted to end this post on a good note. While the news can be very depressing to read, remember that we can choose to step away from it when it gets too much. There is also a lot of good things to read out there (like this blog? haha) and there are good people fighting this fight. Pray for them, find out how you can support them and most importantly, do your moral duty and stay put.

I'm not going to say that you can use this time to do etc. etc. cause I'm pretty sure you all know about that. I just want us to exercise a little bit of empathy, being able to empathise with other countries who are suffering more than us will automatically guide us to do the right thing. If we can empathise with China and Italy, we will be moved to do what is best for Malaysia to not reach that stage. If we can exercise empathy with our frontline heroes, we will stay put.

Empathy is where we should direct our mental energy, not panic.

Keep safe and stay well. Better times will be ahead of us.

Malaysian Politics: A reflection

*Disclaimer: There will be no attempt to provide a political analysis (I'm not qualified), instead it will be a personal reflection of my experiences from the very edge of the sidelines*

That weekend of 'Langkah Sheraton' I was dancing my heart out to YMCA at my cousin's wedding in the middle of the rainforest in Sabah. Within 24 hours, I went from explaining to my family why I'm no longer with my partner when I caught the bouquet to providing an unqualified analysis of the current political situation.

Being someone who is directly affected by this situation, I wanted to be able to understand current circumstances. My first reaction was 'How inconvenient, now I will have to move.' I half-believed that the situation will blow over and things will eventually go back to normal, PH (and my dad) live to fight another day.

As the days passed and the plot twists never-ending, I became more confused and frustrated. I was trying to comprehend why this all happened in the first place: Where did all this betrayal start and why? Reading the media, I felt there was a lot of impatience, bruised egos and lack of trust. Let's be frank here, every one involved made their own move on this political multi-way chessboard, calling 'checkmate' at each other, and the only victims are the pawns - the rakyat.

The media played a big part in fuelling more confusion, uncertainty and division. In hindsight, in the first few days of the 'crisis', the news articles were misguiding and misinforming its readers, intentional or otherwise. It also did not help much that most Malaysians get excited at sharing any click-bait worthy articles, WhatsApp messages without questioning its sources. For those politically literate, it is easy to detect fake news, however the majority of us are still in the dark on the real situation and therefore, we gravitate towards information that speaks to our version of what we want the narrative to be instead of what it really is.

Opinion pieces are taken as the objective truth and not questioned, statements from leaders are taken out of context, and sadly, there are certain people who have taken this opportunity to create more political division.  Mentally, it was too much for me to digest. I wished there was a Malaysian version of The Last Leg to help articulate this saga into normal people language. I felt dejected, hopeless and sad. Democracy is dead. The Bersih fight that brought millions of Malaysians around the world to bring about social change was gone to waste. The politicians we elected to execute the People's Mandate are now climbing over each other to achieve a majority. It's every MP for his/her own.

I know many of us feel this way. 'The politicians will always have their way, we can never see change.' 'What's the point of voting anymore? They don't even care about us.' And they're right to an extent. But in the past 18-months, we have seen credible MPs and Ministers who are fighting the people's fight, it was a breath of fresh air. Plastic waste got sent back to where it came from, the Covid-19 outbreak was well handled, MACC finally was able to do its job properly. What this tells us is that, there is hope.

At 2019's Merdeka Parade @ Putrajaya. When Malaysia Baru was still hopeful. 

Truth is, there has always been hope for change. However, we have been too focused on what makes us different from each other to what similarities we share. Social psychologists have argued that when people come together under a shared identity, social change can be achieved (i.e. works around Social Identity Theory). We need to stop letting race and religion divide us. In school I was taught that the beauty of Malaysia is that everyone can live in harmony and work together in the #MalaysiaBoleh spirit. So, why do I struggle to see it now, especially among our leaders?

I hope the dust settles soon and the people of Malaysia find a way to make our voices heard, again.