Remember those odd little flowers that became little spiky things? Well, the little spiky things are a bit bigger now. Here’s Sharon trying (and failing) to open our first durian runtuh since moving in.

It was all rotten on one side, and the rest of it was still a bit sappy. There are about twenty more hanging up on the branches. Perhaps we can have a makan-durian party?

Last year, for BERSIH2.0, Sharon made a series of awesome posters. This year she was too busy — so you’ll just have to settle for something by little old me. Prepare to be underwhelmed.

~~~

THE LEAK IN THE PALACE

Shortly after he was installed, our new di-Pertuan Agong moved his royal person, his royal family, and all the offices of his royal court and household into the new National Palace.

The new National Palace wasn’t precisely new. It was completed last year. But our previous ruler – now once again merely the Sultan of Terengganu – had refused to take up residence there.

“What is wrong with the old palace?” he’d asked. “I’m happy where I am, and it’s such a bother to move.”

Perhaps someone had told him how much the new National Palace cost, and our former majesty had balked at the figure, which contained eight zeroes. He was widely reputed to be a frugal man, where his own money was concerned; and a good enough man, when it came to the tax money of his subjects.

Our current Yang di-Pertuan Agong was also reputed to be a good man. Royalty can have no other kind of reputation. Daulat Tuanku! He was just a good man in a different way.

Because of the overly-fecund nangka, we’ve been getting a lot of visits from our friendly neighbourhood musang. You can just about see him there, crouching over and tugging at a half-rotten fruit.

There was a smaller musang tagging along — perhaps an anak musang. Nice to see that the jackfruit tree is letting our wildlife raise families.

When I approached they ran up the tree. Here is anak musang, staring into the camera flash:

And here’s Pingu, oblivious to my excitement, licking up the last bits of his wet tuna dinner:

Pingu murders snakes and gives no fux.

A baby durian we found fallen from the tree. RIP. Hope at least one survives to ripen. 

Seluar dalam sapa ni? Must have been left behind from our last party. Quick, own up. Sharon dah marah kat aku …

(Unless dia cover-line for her own indiscretions.)

Last Saturday I went to have lunch with the Prime Minister.

It was a major thing. The day before, a guy on a motorbike dropped an unmarked envelope into our mailbox; it contained an invitation for “Dato’/Datin/Tuan/Puan dan Semua Ahli Keluarga” to “Majlis Jamuan Makan Tengah Hari Perdana 1Malaysia”.

The invitation bore the Negeri Sembilan coat of arms, but BN flags lined the streets. Down at the waterfront by the district administration building they had put up tents, a stage, and long canteen-table-like seating for 35,000.

That was how many seats Menteri Besar Mohamad Hasan claimed he had prepared. He also claimed it was 10,000 seats too few.

“Saya sudah order 100,000 batang satay,” he said. “Tuan-puan silakan makan. Kalau tak cukup saya minta maaf. Kadang-kadang benda macam ni susah kita nak jangka.”

There were buffet stalls at the sides (for those who couldn’t get tables), costume jewellery peddlers set up here and there, multiple jingles of ice-cream-man bells, even counters where people could sign up for insurance. I gave up on exploring — I was pissing people off with my bike — and planted myself behind the main stage.

Haji Mohamad was talking about all the BANTUAN that the government was bringing to the people — specifically, the voters of kawasan Parlimen Telok Kemang.

He did not talk very long. He said: ”Cukup saya berkata. Saya sebagai Menteri Besar cuma menjaga ladang. Perdana Menteri, tuan punya ladang, sudah datang, membawa ‘baja’ untuk menyuburkan tanah Telok Kemang ini.”

Lots of applause as the PM went to claim his mic. At the same time, the buffet counters opened, and I started seeing people with piled plates wandering about.

“MB kata saya tuan punya ladang. Tak tahulah saya bawa ‘baja’ macam mana,” Najib said, coy.

He greeted the “bala tentera”, of which there were several long tables — transported from the nearby army base in several dozen green trucks — and told them about his conversation with the local general.

“Tuan Panglima kata: ‘Bagi kolam mandi untuk tentera? Lima juta je datuk.’ Jadi saya kata: ‘Kalau lima juta, lima juta lah. Saya bagi lah.’ “

Applause.

Najib outlined some of the other BANTUAN that his visit would be giving the area:

• RM14 million for a shortcut between Taman Sirusa and the Port Dickson Politechnic;
• RM450,000 to fix the Masjid Jamek roof;
• RM300,000 for two futsal courts;
• RM1.5 million for the building of new mosques;
• RM1 million for “rumah bakar mayat untuk Kaum Hindu”;
• 7-15% pay increase for military personnel.

“BN tidak cari populariti semata-mata,” Najib said. “Pihak pembangkang tuduh yang BANTUAN yang kita sediakan untuk rakyat, seperti BR1M, duit haram. Pinjam dari IMF — tapi saya hairan, bila kita buka daftar untuk BANTUAN BR1M, mereka datang ambil, kadang-kadang lebih awal dari penyokong kita.”

He continued: “World Bank kata baik. Setiausaha Agung PBB kata baik. Ekonomi makin sihat. Apabila ekonomi makin sihat, kita pulangkan pada rakyat. Saya kata, tak kira lah penyokong kerajaan ke, penyokong pihak pembangkang.”

“Kita beri BANTUAN,” he said. “Kalau tak dapat undi tak apa. Dapat pahala.”

Najib wound down, expressing thanks, stressing once again that all his BANTUAN came without attached strings. “Harap makan kenyang-kenyang,” he said.

He only wished that the constituents of Teluk Kemang remembered his kindness. “Hajat tuan-puan dah tercapai,” Najib said. “Bila pilihanraya nanti tuan-puan ingat lah, hajat saya masih tidak tercapai.”

I didn’t stay for lunch or the customary “allowance” envelope. There was just too many people waiting to get their own slice of BANTUAN. So I cycled around, counting buses.

There were 136 of them parked in the immediate vicinity. Roughly half were from within the state, from Rembau, Tampin and Seremban - the rest were from out of town: bas pekerja from Kajang and Ampang; school buses with “J” plates; tourist buses with “W” plates, Tourism Selangor decals, or SKS KL markings.

More buses drove in and out. The coast road was jammed the entire afternoon. My neighbours were smart; they stayed indoors.

(Sorry no photos, guys. Sharon had the camera that weekend, and I don’t have a smartphone.)

So, the seeds and vegetable matter we throw into the compost have been sprouting. Soon I shall have a new tomato to eat! (The plant itself is a bit wilted though, sadface.)

(Follow these links to Part One and Part Three)

You’re thinking: this thing is fucking long. Ya lor. For the reading I cut a some of the descriptive bits and inconsequential repetition. Still longish.

You’re also thinking: the Bahasa is damn kayu. Ya lor. I could say I was trying to channel the clunky formality of BM karangan writing, but — especially for this BLACK PEN sequence — that’d be a lame excuse.

Erk. What probably made it bearable for reading was that director Pang let me read the three parts separately, in between the night’s other performers.

~~~

2.

The BLACK PEN talks like a rogue and feels like a sappy romantic.

Aku sebatang pen. Kilometrico nama jenamaku. Aku berjenis balpen dan berwarna hitam. Aku dilahirkan di sebuah kilang di Kuantan, tetapi selok-belok nasib menyebabkan aku kini menetap di kota Kuala Lumpur.

Tuan punyaku bernama Muhamad Ghazali, seorang murid sekolah menengah Tingkatan Lima. Nama glamournya Bob. Aku respek sikit, aku memanggilnya Zali. Boleh kata aku pen kegemarannya. Baru sebulan aku bersama Zali, tapi dalam masa tu dia memilih aku untuk membantu menyiapkan semua kerja rumahnya.

Tak kiralah kerja rumah matematik tambahan ke, biologi ke, prinsip keakaunan ke – aku cukup puas melihat halaman buku latihan atau kertas kajang dipenuh dakwat hitamku, disusun kemas mengikut gaya tulis Zali yang kemas dan condong ke kanan sedikit.

Apabila siap kerja rumah dia, Zali mengembalikan aku ke dalam sarung pensel. Sarung pensel tu gelap apabila ditutup zip. Kedengaran desiran suara alat tulis yang lain.

“Tengok pen hitam baru tu,” bisik si pen Kilometrico biru, sebal.

(Follow these links to Part One and Part Two)

Almost done.

When I got Sharon to vet the piece, she recommended that I leave out the last seven-or-so paragraphs and stop at Cikgu Gee giving his tuition class the “My Dream” assignment.

Ending there, she argued, would still hold up the ideas I wanted to communicate:

• of cyclical un-inspiration; and also
• the sense that, however soul-crushing education is, people can’t help having imaginations.

It would just make those ideas implicit. ”Trust your story,” she said.

She had (correctly) surmised that I wrote the ending sequence mainly for structural completeness (I like bookends, what can I say) and on the worry that a listening audience would not get it. ”Trust your audience,” Sharon said. 

I read it all. I still don’t know whether I did the right thing.

~~~

3.

The RED PEN is young but already tired.

Aku sebatang pen. Nama aku Papermate Kilometrico Fine Point, jenis dakwat merah. Nama pemilikku En Muhamad Ghazali. Murid-murid beliau memanggilnya Cikgu Gee – jadi itulah nama yang kugunakan untuknya juga.

Cikgu Gee tidak tertambat pada mana-mana sekolah kebangsaan; beliau tidak ingin tertakluk pada skala gaji sektor awam yang tidak seberapa. Sebaliknya, Cikgu Gee mencurah bakti sebagai seorang guru tuisyen sepenuh masa.

Pusat tuisyen yang dimilikkinya – English Language Learning Centre – memenuhi dua tingkat premis komersil di pusat Bandar Tasik Selatan. Pusat tersebut mempunyai tenaga pengajar sebanyak:

Lima orang guru pakar subjek Bahasa Inggeris; tujuh belas marker pen pelbagai warna; enam pemadam papan putih; dan dua puluh empat balpen berdakwat merah.

Aku teruja menjadi anggota pasukan ini.