Exploited!

Let me tell you about three refugees, who have come to Malaysia seeking asylum from persecution and violence

.

The three men are from Afghanistan. They did not know each other in Afghanistan, and they were persecuted there for different reasons. They decided to go to Malaysia to seek a life in safety and peace. They dreamt to earn a living, and to ask their family to come and join them once they were in a stable situation.

That was not to be.

The three met at a Malaysian immigration detention centre for staying illegally in Malaysia. They were detained for eight months before UNHCR could get to them. They were released, and moved to Kuala Lumpur.

As refugees they are not allowed to work. Anyway, only one of them could speak English; he found employment soon. The other two do not speak any English; one of them also cannot read, so they had problems to find a job, any job.

From the little money they had, they all chipped in and rented an apartment at the outskirts of KL. They had to pay two months deposit and a deposit for utilities. The monthly rental was RM 800.00; they could not find anything cheaper.

That is when we at MSRI came to know them. The two unemployed refugees were severely depressed about their situation and needed support, which MSRI provided.

One month ago, the man who can speak English left the other two, without even saying goodbye. I guess he had been afraid that the other two would ask him to come along if he told them about going to another place. The two refugees left behind felt completely betrayed by their friend, with whom they had endured and shared so much hardship.

What was equally daunting was that from now on they had to pay for the rental of their apartment. Both are still jobless, and the rental was way too high to be paid by donations from MSRI. So they were looking for another place.

They figured that they had at least some time to find a new, cheaper place, and then would get back most of the deposit to pay a while for their living expenses.

They were lucky to find a room for them to share which only cost RM250. They informed the apartment owner. The owner, who turned out to only be an agent for the owner, refused to give them back the deposit.  He demanded the next rental of RM 800.00 which is due on the 20^th of the month.

After MSRI intervened, the agent said that if they would leave the apartment immediately, before the end of the month, he would give them back one month rental from the deposit of the new tenant. The deposit for utilities bill would not be returned. If they wanted to stay on they had to pay the full rental.

This person, the agent, is using his position to exploit the refugees, who are in a very vulnerable position because according to Malaysian laws they are ‘illegal immigrants’, they do not have a residence permit and are not allowed to work. Any Malaysian tenant would stay in the rented apartment for three months without paying the rental, before moving out. I am sure that if these two refugees do exactly that, the agent will call the police to have them arrested.

This is exploitation!  By leaving asylum seekers and refugees in legal limbo until their resettlement in a third country, which can easily take six years or more, they are open to any exploitation by anybody:

-         - Some employers make them work 14 hours per day, seven days per week, 52 weeks per years (they have no free day per week or paid leave) for low wages;

-        -  Some employers who do not want to pay the salary at the end of the month will call the police and denounce them as ‘illegal’.

It is time, that asylum seekers and refugees are given the means to take care of their own lives by giving them work permits until resettlement. It does not make sense to ‘import’ tens of thousands of foreign workers from Bangladesh, Indonesia, and other places in the region and ignore the refugees and asylum seekers who are here.

There are about 100’000 refugees in Malaysia, including children and the elderly. Some of the refugees are highly educated, but many others had little or no schooling. And I don’t know how many would be able to do the work in jobs for which Malaysia tries to attract foreign workers.  What I know is that more than half of all problems that refugees and asylum seekers have in Malaysia – including health care, and education for their children – would immediately be solved by them being allowed to work legally.

None of us will have any assurance that we will never have to seek refuge in someone else's country.  All we can hope for is that if and when such tragedy befalls any of us that there are people who extend a helping hand, not try to exploit and rob us of the little we have.

Mental Illness and Employment

I was pretty busy with a lot of things during the last few weeks; actually I still am.  So it has taken me some time to get back to writing. For those who would like to know what has happened to the “orang minyak” of my last post:

A few days after posting that article, I was told that he had been caught by a ‘bomoh’ from Kelantan, who walked around the places where the “orang minyak” had been sighted with an open bottle, chanting incantations, calling the spirit of the “orang minyak”. Apparently he must have caught the fellow in his bottle, because after that ‘exercise’ the “orang minyak” was not seen or heard of again behind the Batu Caves, and the armed neighborhood ‘security’ gangs have disbanded.

Enough of this sorry and scary episode.

Mental Stress and Illness and Employment

What I would like to write today is about how we treat people who have problems, mental problems, as friends, colleagues, employees, etc.

In various places where I have worked throughout my working life there were colleagues who had mental problems and mental illnesses. I also have a number of friends who had mental problems or illnesses during some times of their life.

When I did my practical training in a library in Berne in the Seventies, there was a Swiss woman in her fifties also working there at the headquarters. She wrapped the library books in plastic self-sticking foil, and fitted the lending pocket and strip into the back cover, so that the books were ready for lending out.

She was a quiet and friendly woman, but she absolutely hated to be touched. She claimed that she will get really bad pimples and sores from the ‘badness’ of the people who touched her, so absolutely no hand shakes! She also could not stand any pictures of nakedness, and when she had to process medical books, or books on sex education etc. which just then proliferated, she started to shout and swear loudly and threw those books into the dustbin. 

She had two pet rats, who were always with her and who she treated as ‘her children’. She washed them daily under the running water with a toothbrush, and shared her packed lunch from home with them at her desk. The rats were absolutely tame and followed her every word. She was a strict vegetarian, and absolutely horrified when coming across a butcher’s shop, or the meat department in a supermarket.

Some of her colleagues really hated her and her two rats. They provoked a ‘shouting and swearing’ episode, called the mental health department, and had her taken – two huge warden from the mental hospital came, held both of her arms (remember: she absolutely hated to be touched) and forced her out of the office, into an ambulance. 

I just arrived at the office when the ambulance was driving off with her crying out loudly inside. To this day I am haunted by this. I was never able to find her. As far as I know she had no family, and I was just a teenager doing a stint of practical training. None of the other library staff wanted to help me. So to this day I don’t know what has happened to her after that; I have never heard of her again. 

She had never hurt herself or anybody else. Yes, she did not behave according to the norm. But swearing and shouting uncontrollably from time to time, or to have two pet rats does not warrant to lock someone up, who has managed quite well to hold a job, do her work properly, and take care of herself well in general.

Later in life, I had a very good friend, whose husband, after a few years of marriage, wanted her to agree to a ménage a trois. She just could not bring herself to live like that and sank into a deep depression. After a few months she was admitted to a mental hospital, stayed almost a year there, left the hospital, had to take medication for many more months, went weekly for therapy, and after almost three years was off of meds and had made a full recovery.

In Malaysia, in one of the NGOs I worked, there was a woman whose husband had taken a second wife. She completely ‘lost it’, began behaving ‘crazy’, walking around her apartment block naked, and displayed other behavior which is not acceptable to society. She was put under heavy medication, to the point that she only could speak and move in slow motion, and needed to be taken care of like a baby.

One of my husband’s childhood friends was suffering from schizophrenia. He burned down a surau because voices had whispered to him to do that. He was many months in Tanjung Rambutan, the mental hospital in Perak, Malaysia. He told people that he was the illegitimate child of Moshe Dayan and Golda Meir, the Minister of Defense and the Prime Minister of Israel. He was ‘normal’ when he took his meds, but sometimes he refused to take his meds, and then he would get violent. He lived in the house of his mother – his father and sister had died in a car accident many years ago, and his brother was a drug addict and had also died. One day, when he was violent, his mother called the authorities and two men from the mental hospital came to take him back to Tanjung Rambutan. He fought them. They broke both of his forearms. The broken bones never grew together properly and his forearms remained crooked and gave him a lot of pain.

He was married and had two children. He died a number of years ago.

There are a number of other friends and colleagues who struggle with mental problems. Especially among the refugee community with whom I have close contact many suffer from mild to severe depression, trauma and PTSD.

So, what do we do with these people? Lock them all up because they make us feel ‘uncomfortable’, because we don’t know how to deal with them?

There are so many forms of mental stress and illness. Some are temporary and can be healed completely. Some are serious and need heavy medication. Maybe some need to be locked up to save them from themselves and to make sure that they do not hurt others. 

So how should we react when one of our friends or colleagues or neighbours is diagnosed with mental stress and/or illness and needs treatment?

First of all: Nobody chooses to ‘do this on purpose’!

Second of all: It could happen to anybody, including ourselves, that fate gives us a such a heavy blow that can unbalance our mind. 

Third of all: Many who suffer from mental stress and illness hide their illness because they are afraid of being labeled ‘crazy’ and become 'outcasts' of society.

And last of all: Be kind and compassionate. Most of the time mental stress and illness like so many other physical illnesses can be healed and/or treated. These people are still our friends, colleagues, fellow human beings. When they are not well for whatever reason they need us most! When anybody is down on the ground we should not trample them further into the ground, instead offer a hand to help them up!

I know that there are companies who have a policy of 100% of their staff having to perform 100% at all times. I guess this is part of profit-maximizing, meritocratic policy prevalent in capitalist systems. The company will have informed staff of this their policy from the start of employment, so that all staff members are aware when signing up that they will lose their job if and when they cannot perform at 100% due to any adverse circumstance.

However, I also believe that a better policy of any company would be that there is some provision made for staff who – also for whatever reason – is not able to perform 100%. I believe that this is part of our social conscience, our humanity, the understanding that human beings are not robots and may temporarily be unable to perform at 100%. Employers have the duty to show understanding and compassion towards their staff. Should the situation become untenable then a mutually agreeable solution should be found.

So, why do I tell you about the people mentioned above? Because I have come across a number of instances recently where people have been fired from their job for being temporarily not able to fulfill their workload as expected by their employers. This also includes organizations which have Human Rights Causes written BIG on their banners. This is hard to understand and accept. These organizations can promote Human Rights for other, far-away causes, but not for the people right there in their own place? 

Remember: This can happen to any of us. So please, treat others as you would like to be treated.

Update on Orang Minyak issue

Since about two weeks we have armed groups of men (from as young as 12 to 60 plus) roaming the streets of Kampung Laksamana at night. Some are armed with parangs, others say that knives have no effect on orang minyak so they bring bamboo sticks.

Last night, a man wearing a juba was helping to guard the neighborhood. After 3am he was cought loading furniture from an empty house into a small lorry. The family had left the house because they were afraid of the orang minyak.

On the night before last, a man, hiding behind a banana plant because he was curious and wanted to see the orang minyak with his own eyes was apprehended by a vigilante group and almost beaten up very badly.

Apart from unifying the residents of Kg. Laksamana, there are also those who point the finger at foreigners, mainly Indonesians. They say that it is Indonesians who dabble in the art of black magic, and are more likely to bring forth such abomination as the Orang Minyak.

So my question: is the orang minyak issue really unifying the people? Or is it used to create havok and insecurity among the residents of Kg. Laksamana?

What is sure is that whatever the circumstances and the situation is, there are always people who know how to use it to their advantage!

Supernatural Phenomena Behind the Batu Caves

I have been living in the Batu Caves area for more than 30 years. Many interesting and 'out of this world' things have been happening. But of late there has been an absolutely astonishing development.

On 1 November 2011, I was driving home after work, and as usual I passed over the bridge which spans the Sungai Batu, which flows out of the Ulu Yam dam, and merges with Sungai Gombak in the PWTC area.

(Confluence of Sungai Batu and Sungai Gombak)

The bridge I mention above is somewhere between Pinggiran Batu Caves and Kampung Laksamana. It is in this river, a bit further down, in front of the Batu Caves, in which the Hindu worshippers wash themselves on Thaipusam, and from where they start their journey up the 272 steps to the temple.

(Stairs leading up to the caves and the Hindu temple)

It was just before maghrib, when I passed the bridge and saw a creature sitting on the far end of the bridge. I did not trust my eyes: it was a giant head of a pig, with two huge, red fangs; it was 'vampire pig'. My hands were shaking so much when I took a picture, that it is quite blurred; but basically, you can see vampire pig as I saw it that evening. It must have had a hangover from Halloween the day before and felt disoriented, so it could not find its way back to the cave it had come from.

(Vampire Pig sitting at the end of the bridge over Sungai Batu, behind the Batu Caves)

I have not seen or heard from it since then, so I assume it continues to go about its usual business.

But another development - related or unrelated, I am not so sure - has been happening in the vicinity. Now we have two 'orang minyak' disturbing the good folks who live behind the Batu Caves. I copy the full report below here:

The ‘oily man’ strikes fear

By RASHVINJEET S.BEDI rashvin@thestar.com.my

The supernatural phenomenon purportedly terrorising Kampung Laksamana in Gombak has rallied the residents to stand together in defence of the young girls in their community.
WHILE most people would be in deep slumber at 2am, residents of Kampung Laksamana in Gombak were wide awake, roaming up and down Jalan Laksamana 1 in Gombak, Selangor.
Around 40 residents all divided into groups of about five to 10 people each and fully equipped with spotlights and wooden sticks were on patrol in the village located about 2km from Batu Caves that Thursday morning. Although they were joking with one another, you could feel the tension in the air.

An outsider might think that a gang rumble was on the cards. But what the residents of this village were worried about were not humans, instead they were keeping an eye out for not one, but two, supernatural beings. They are under attack from a couple of orang minyak (oily man), they claim. This village has been buzzing with sightings of the two paranormal creatures for the last 10 days.
Many residents claim to have seen and heard the orang minyak around the vicinity of the Pangsapuri Laksamana and Jalan Laksamana 1. And they all say the same thing the orang minyak are clad only in their underwear and drenched in black shiny oil. They can jump from one roof to another with ease, and vanish into thin air within seconds.
It's definitely no laughing matter, stresses Aslam Khan, 33, one of the villagers “lucky” enough to have seen them.
As he describes them, one is tall, stocky and bald while the other is thin and curly haired.
“I saw the bald orang minyak hiding behind the water tank of a house at about two in the morning. It was breathing really loudly, like a cow.

Slippery encounter: Aslam pointing towards the water tank where he allegedly saw an “orang minyak”. He claims it then climbed onto the roof and vanished. Right: The oily stains allegedly left by the orang minyak in a resident’s house in Kampung Laksamana. — M. AZHAR ARIF / The Star

“It was black and shiny. When I shone my light on it, the thing stuck out its head to look back at me. Before I could do anything, it climbed up the roof and disappeared,” says Aslam.
He says they also found the possible spot where the orang minyak conducts its ritual of reciting jampi (mantra) and having an oil bath. The villagers stumbled across the spot after chasing the orang minyak into some bushes next to the flat.
“There was a large oil patch there,” he says, pointing to the ground.
Adds Aslam, the next night, they found a packet of fried rice and noodles at the very same spot. After returning about an hour later, the food was gone, believed to be eaten by the orang minyak.
Supernatural or real?
According to popular legend, the orang minyak is a person who has undertaken the study of black magic and as a rite of passage, has to rape a certain number of anak dara (virgins) to pass that course.
The villagers are worried because almost every house in the neighbourhood houses a young girl.
One, they said, has already had a nasty encounter with the orang minyak.

It was crawling up the stairs of the house, just like Spiderman. When it reached the top it suddenly jumped onto the roof. I don’t think a human could do that.-P.MOHAN

As reported by a local Malay daily, the 17-year-old girl did not only see the orang minyak a few times, but also felt “someone” caressing her and calling her to go out of the house.
It reportedly also locked the family members outside the house on Christmas eve, forcing the girl's brother-in-law Kamal Bahari Satar, 36, to break down the door.
“We saw a black heap underneath the kitchen table. When other residents poked it with a bamboo stick, we could see blood stains,” he was quoted as saying. It then fled to a neighbour's house.
After being “disturbed” for five days, Kamal decided to move his family out of their house, and out of the neighbourhood.
Unfortunately, all attempts by Sunday Star to contact him were unsuccessful.
Although some of these stories sound incredible and illogical, it is hard to find any Kampung Laksamana resident who doesn't believe in it, even those who haven't seen it.
The residents have been carrying out patrols from midnight to dawn. Every now and then, a team of youngsters can be seen riding their motorbikes in a convoy around the neighbourhood.
During the Christmas weekend, some 200 people patrolled the street, waiting for the orang minyak to appear and many carried parangs (machetes) and axes, says Aslam.
“Until we manage to catch this thing, we are going to carry on with our patrols. I don't feel calm although I don't have a wife or younger sister,” he vows.
Muaz Amran, 21, another resident who has been patrolling the area every night says he did not believe in such a thing before this.
“I thought the thing existed only in the movies but it seems to be happening in real life,” says the fresh graduate, referring to the 1956 P. Ramlee hit movie Sumpah Orang Minyak. He says that although he hasn't seen the orang minyak for himself, he believes his neighbours.
Another resident who only wants to be known as Man says he did not believe his neighbours at first.
Then, on Christmas day, he was woken up at 3am by a commotion outside his house.
“Apparently, the orang minyak had run into the next door neighbour's house but I just brushed aside the incident,” admits the bank officer.
The next night, his niece, who is a university student, saw the orang minyak sitting on the wall of his house.
“She woke up when she heard something. When she peeked out of the window, she saw a black figure sitting on the wall with its back facing her,” he says.
P. Mohan, 48, also claims to have seen the orang minyak at a house opposite his flat at about 12.30am.
“It was crawling up the stairs of the house, just like Spiderman. When it reached the top it suddenly jumped onto the roof. I don't think a human could do that. It then just disappeared,” he says, adding with a slight shudder, “The hair on my hands just stood up. We can laugh and joke about it, but this is serious. All the families here have young girls.”
K. Chandran, 49, has yet to see the orang minyak but he too is afraid that it will harm his 14 year-old daughter after hearing stories of how it appeared in an abandoned house next to his.
“I feel very scared now. All of us sleep in the hall with the lights on,” says the scrap metal dealer, whose lack of sleep is evident around his eyes.
Chandran shares that he has even installed two additional lights in his house, each costing RM500.
“Ever since these sightings, we have been feeling uneasy. I even dreamt about one of them recently,” he says.
Zaki Zainudin, 42, agrees that it has been difficult to get any peace of mind these past few days now they are startled by the slightest sound and get suspicious of every little happening.
“Last time a broken plate was just a broken plate. Now, we wonder why it has broken,” he says, before checking to see why a dog was howling nearby.
Zaki then takes out his phone to show photographs as proof of the existence of the orang minyak oil stains and footprint of the orang minyak in Kamal's house. He has also taken a picture of a banana tree leaf with an unusual tear. It has been said that the orang minyak is attracted to the banana bud (jantung pisang).
What is clear is that this stress has caused residents to lose sleep. Those on patrol only manage to catch a few hours of sleep before heading off to work in the morning. All the residents also sleep with all their lights on these days.
Almost at their wits end, the residents have made a police report as well as getting help from a few alternative healers, including a bomoh. They have also been holding prayers almost every night to ask for protection from the evil “spirits”.
Their frustration at the menace, and exhaustion, however, is growing by the day.
“I dare it to come and confront me now,” says office worker K. Paramasivam, his exasperation evident, echoing the feeling of every Kampung Laksamana resident.
He claims to have seen the bald orang minyak in an abandoned house, before it climbed up to the roof.
His main concern is for everyone in the neighbourhood, especially the young girls.
“I also have a younger sister in my house. We can't be sleeping two or three hours every day. We are not robots.”
But in a way this orang minyak episode has been a blessing in disguise for the residents of Kampung Laksamana.
Man observes that the slight “tension” between the supporters of the different political parties has disappeared in the past few days.
“Everybody is helping one another out. Everyone is together as one,” he says.
The residents also agree that they are friendlier with their neighbours now.
Paramasivam admits that he never really spoke to his neighbours and got to know them before.
“At the most, I would just acknowledge them. Now I actually talk and get to know them. The neighbourly spirit has been enhanced by these happenings,” he says.

 http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2012/1/1/nation/10190056&sec=nation

So here you have it, the supernatural things going on behind the Batu Caves. It seems that the orang-orang minyak are working to unify the Malaysian people!  I am not the only one saying this. See also:

Orang Minyak Kampong Laksamana Gombak menyatupadukan masyarakat?

Orang Minyak Kampong Laksamana Gombak secara tak langsong merapatkan jurang di-antara masyarakat sekampong!

http://mahaguru58.blogspot.com/2012/01/orang-minyak-kampong-laksamana-gombak.html

Or  maybe better put: The Malaysian people unify to protect themselves from the orang-orang minyak, whoever they may be.

And in addition we have to guard from vampire pig. It has been seen flying in other places as well, recently. So, people, beware and guard well against the evils of the super?-natural? world!

In Memoriam  Francis Khoo Kah Siang (1947-2011)

A Tireless Advocate of Justice for Palestinians

By Franklin Lamb

Francis Khoo Kah Siang passed away on November 20, 2011.

In addition to the countless reasons Francis will be sorely missed by his friends and loved ones, he will be missed because he leaves a void for many of us who were and remain inspired by his work for Palestinian rights. Francis Khoo is an icon of countless others, who like himself, are neither Arab nor Muslim, neither from the Middle East nor culturally or politically connected to Palestine by birth, but who support the Palestinian cause.

Many of us, but especially Westerners and Americans it seems, learn essentially nothing about the Nakba in school.  Yet many, often quite by chance and for one reason or another, have come into contact with the Question of Palestine and, learning about the great injustice that has befallen the Palestinian people, could not remain indifferent or idle. Francis was one of these.

To my personal regret, I did not know Francis Khoo well personally for a long period although we knew of each other. But by the time we finally met, which was just fourteen months before his sudden and untimely death last month, I knew what kind of a person he was and something about his lifelong quest for justice.

Over the past half-decade I learned something about his remarkably work through my friend, his wife, the gifted orthopedic surgeon and well known humanitarian, Dr. Swee Chai Ang, who for three decades has embraced and supported Palestinian refugees both with lifesaving medical care under heavy and indiscriminate bombardment inside Shatila Palestinian Refugee Camp and Gaza Hospital in Beirut, and with her indefatigable work for the refugees return to Palestine. The latter included lectures and appearances around the World, sometimes in the company of Francis, her beloved husband, advocate, counselor and partner.

It was in September of 2010 that I met Francis in person when he came to Beirut for the 28th annual commemoration of the September 1982 Sabra-Shatila Massacre and he attended a reception at the office of the Palestine Civil Rights Campaign and participated in a heavy schedule of activities during his visit. It was evident that he was a fascinating life-loving person with whom it would be a great pleasure to spend time and to work with which I had hoped to do.

All the while he was in Lebanon he was on peritoneal dialysis for kidney failure which he administered himself three to four times a day.According to his niece Melissa, Francis would often use his walking stick as a hanging post for his dialysis fluids including at the Hezbollah museum at Melita in South Lebanon. He recalled with fondness how the Hezbollah Melita museum guard who was obviously unfamiliar with this version of makeshift dialysis tried to help him. On the bus south, to visit Palestinian refugee camps, Francis entertained the passengers with songs, including Beladi (‘my land’) the beautiful Arabic anthem of the Palestinian revolution, followed by a soliloquy on the origin of the song and his interpretation.

Few of the passengers on the bus had much idea about Francis’ background. Francis Khoo Kah Siang was born into a closely knit, devoutly Catholic Singapore Peranakan family. As a lad he sang in the Singing Khoos with his brothers and at an early age developed a passion to work for the rights of the oppressed. Once admitted to the Singapore Bar, Frances began working on sensitive civil rights cases that many other lawyers preferred to avoid.

Francis had earlier developed a reputation as a defender of the downtrodden and while as an undergraduate at University, or later as Vice President of the Student Law Society, he opposed the introduction of the Suitability Certificate, fought the abolition of the jury system in Singapore and condemned the indiscriminate criminal 1972 Christmas Day bombing of Hanoi ordered by President Nixon.

Before long Francis found himself being accused of violating Singapore’s Internal Security Act, which particularly during the 1977-1987 period was used to arrest hundreds of Singaporeans who were held without trial. A fortnight following their January 1977 marriage, the international security police came for him. His young wife Dr. Swee Chai Ang, was also sought by authorities who came for her and threatened to handcuff her while she was in the operating theatre performing surgery. Eventually, and following continuous interrogation, sleep deprivation and solitary confinement, Dr. Swee was released as part of a government scheme to try to lure back to Singapore Francis, who by then had escaped and left for England and he began his 34 years of exile from his country.  Swee joined her loved one and they developed their remarkable careers in London.

Francis’ niece recently wrote that, “They could kick Francis out of Singapore, but they could not kick the Singaporean out of Francis,”as he followed events in his country, frequently wore his Peranakanskirt-the Sarong, and wrote about his homeland including the well-known song, “And Bungaraya Blooms All Day.” Francis had hoped that 2011 would be the Singaporean Spring.
Some friends saw a parallel between Francis’ wish to return to his homeland and his decades of advocacy of the Palestinians Right of Return.

Francis Khoo, was a gifted humanist. He had many God given and self-discipline acquired talents that included using his legal education and life experience to challenge injustices and using his energy and organizational abilities to defend the oppressed.
Just three examples, out of many, include his important work in support of the 1984 UK striking miners and working as Director of War on Want, established by the late British Prime Minister, Harold Wilson.

 Francis also co-founded with his wife Swee,  and their and my friends, Pamela and Major Derek Cooper who spent the summer of 1982 with Janet Lee Stevens with me in West Beirut, Medical Aid for Palestinians.  Francis served as MAP’s Vice Chairman from 1984 to 2007, while also donating his time and abilities to numerous other charitable works.

Francis’ passions included writing, especially articles, poetry and songs, photography, and drawing. He possessed a particularly unique skill, as explained by his niece Melissa, currently doing her residency in surgery and using the medical term ‘eidetic memory’ in describing her uncle’s photographic memory, that gave Francis the ability to recall images, sounds or objects as well as dates with remarkable precision.

Francis Khoo lived a full and valuable life and left this world a better place because of his lifelong labors for justice. Those of us who were honored to know Francis Khoo Kah Siang and who share his commitment for the liberation of Palestine and the full return of her six million refugees will pay him tribute by continuing his work for peace and justice.

This includes advocating in Lebanon and internationally for the end of the politically motivated excuses from Lebanese politicians and religious leaders, across a wide spectrum, who continue to counsel a go slow approach, after 63 years, for the implementation of even the most elementary, morally and legally mandated civil right to work and to own a home for Lebanon’s quarter million Palestinian Refugees.


Franklin P. Lamb, LLM,PhD
Director, Americans Concerned for
Middle East Peace, Wash.DC-Beirut
Board Member, The Sabra Shatila Foundation and the Palestine Civil Rights Campaign, Beirut-Washington DC
Shatila Palestinian Refugee Camp
Beirut Mobile: +961-70-497-804
Office:  +961-01-352-127
fplamb@palestinecivilrightscampaign.org

HEIMAT

“Heimat” is one of those German terms that is practically untranslatable. The word “Heimat” is a noun and means something like ‘home’, ‘native country”, ‘homeland’, ‘home town’, ‘where I was born’, etc.

Malaysians sing the ‘Negara Ku’: Negara ku, tanah tumpahnya darah ku (My country, where I have spilt my blood); a description of “Heimat” in Malay. The other Malay word is ‘tanahair’ (land/water), which means the same.

The popular Swiss music group Züri West in one of their songs in Bernese dialect describe it like this: “…irgendwo uf em e Parkplatz / plötzlech schmöckt’s wieder wie dahei / irgendeinisch fingt ds Glück eim / irgendwänn weisch wär d’bisch / irgendwänn weisch genau wo de häre ghörsch / öpper schteut es zwöits Tassli uf e Tisch…” [“…somewhere on a parking place / suddenly it smells like home / some day happiness will find you / some day you will know who you are / some day you will know where you belong / someone puts a second cup on the table (for you) … “.]



Maybe I like this song so much because it reminds me of my own “Heimat” smell: Whenever I arrive in Zurich Main Station, step out of the station, and cross to Central to take the tram, I smell the water of the lake of Zurich and the river Limmat, a green, cold, fecund smell; that is “Heimat” for me, then I know that I am home!



“Heimat” means different things to different people and is expressed in different ways.

A few weeks ago we had “Green Day” at the Sahabat Support Centre. Some students from UIA came to the centre to organize different activities for children around environmental issues, such as recycling, reusing, and composting, things that they could do at home. Some films were shown, there were role plays, quizzes, games and other fun. The parents and other family members of the children who were present and the staff also joined.

To conclude the workshop, the students brought out big sheets of paper, groups of children settled around the papers on the floor. The last task was to draw the spoiled, polluted world on one side, and the green safe, clean world on the other side, and in the end present the paper to all, and explain the drawing.

One of the Afghan teenagers began drawing a tree on the green side of the paper: Carefully he drew one line for the trunk, another for a branch; he was adding line after line, slowly a tree emerged, as if chiselled, an intricate structure was built, line by line. The drawing reminded me of a fine Iranian carpet, the best kind, with the Tree of Life in the centre; the foundation of “Heimat”.



A young man from Gaza took the pen and drew a palm tree. Not the usual kind with a stem and lines representing leaves extending on the top. Carefully he drew one line for each palm frond in all detail. Then he drew two big bunches of dates, hanging from the centre, each date fully formed. That date palm was his symbol of “Heimat”.



Then another refugee from the Middle East came forward and drew thick rainclouds over the whole “green” side of the drawing, with drops and rivulets of water showering the Tree of Life and the date palm.



At first I was taken aback, thinking like a European, who identifies rain with something negative, like sadness. But I soon understood that rain in the Middle East is the blessing of Allah for all living things; so that rain over the green, fertile, safe, clean world is indeed the life-giving force of nature, together with the sun.

The Malays express it like this: “Hujan emas di negeri orang, hujan batu di negeri sendiri, lebih baik di negeri sendiri” (Rain of gold in foreign lands, and rain of stones in your own land, still your own land is better).



We all, Malaysians and people of other countries and with other nationalities, refugees, need the bounty and blessing of nature, rain and sunshine, the blessing of God; and everybody and all need a “Heimat”, if not in the country where we were born, we still need a place where someone puts a second cup on the table for us in a place we can call home.

Mohammad’s Birthday

Yesterday was Mohammad’s 24th birthday. That is, it would have been if he would be alive.

Mohammad died last December 26; he was 23 years old.

Mohammed was riding a motorcycle on that Sunday afternoon on the DUKE, wearing a helmet, and keeping on the left, as usual, as he was a careful driver.
The circumstances of the accident and his death are not clear. The photos of the accident show that the motorcycle was completely squeezed under the car from behind from the impact, and the police had difficulties pulling the motorcycle out from under the car. Mohammad’s body lies outside of but parallel to the safety railing at the left side of the road; he lies on the stomach, and his arms are positioned as if he is protecting his head, as if he is lying down with a headache.

There are many questions unanswered:

The car driver stated that he had parked the car on the left side of the highway. Was he really parked there– by itself an offence – or had he missed the nearby junction and was driving backwards at great speed? If he was parked, were his break lights functioning? Why did Mohammad not see him? It was broad daylight, afternoon, with bright sunshine.

What was the driver doing when the accident happened and right afterwards?
And why does Mohammad lie on the other side of the low safety railing in an orderly fashion? With his arms across his head? Was he thrown into such a position? A highly unlikely outcome of the accident.

Was he instantly dead? Or did he still live after the accident and crawled into that position himself, to succumb to his head and leg injuries? Over the safety railing? Very unlikely as well.

Was he carried there and placed in that position? By whom? He was a big, heavy young man. Who called the police?

Mohammed was the eldest son of an Iraqi Palestinian family who have sought refuge in Malaysia from persecution in Iraq a few years ago. The parents received death threats, they feared that Mohammed or another of their children would be kidnapped for ransom, or to disappear forever.

They are registered with UNHCR Kuala Lumpur and wait for their resettlement since a few years.

I had known the young man, as it was he who came to the MSRI office regarding some support for his mother’s medical treatment. He was also the one to bring his youngest sister to the school and back to the house, before going to work.
He was engaged to a very nice Malay girl, whom I finally met for the first time at his funeral. They wanted to get married in 2011, and she was set to follow him to whatever country he would be resettled in.

I accompanied the family during the whole day of the burial, from claiming the body at the morgue of HKL, to the mosque where the body was washed and prepared for the burial, to another mosque for prayers, and last to the cemetery on the outskirts of KL. There were about forty men with the father and brothers of Mohammad. I accompanied Mohammad’s mother on that day in a journey that no mother should have to make. His sisters, nieces and fiancée were also there. I knew of the bad health of the mother, and I feared that she would break down.

I was a witness to the strength of a mother who has to bury her son. Who called her firstborn to wake up and come back, to acknowledge her presence, to reminisce his life with her. She sat on the ground next to the grave after the burial and did not want to leave her son. She talked to him, pleading. Trying to accept, struggling to understand.

But she did not break down. I think that comes later.

Mohammad’s family is still waiting for the police to investigate the accident to find out what happened and whose fault it was. The autopsy report, which was promised to take 1 or 2 months is also not ready yet. RM 80.00 were paid in advance for the report. There was an error in the Death Certificate, which had to be rectified. Time of death was given as a.m., instead of p.m.

The family feels that the Malaysian authorities, the police, hospital personnel, JPJ officers are dismissing their case because they are foreigners, refugees even. They think that the authorities involved are not taking them seriously, are biased against them, and wait for them to be resettled and go away so as not to have to take any action.

Without the police investigation report and the autopsy report the family cannot find out the facts about the accident. Without knowing all the facts they cannot come to terms with their loss. Without these reports, the driver of the accident car will not have to face up to and account for his actions during and after the accident.

The father walked around with red, teary eyes yesterday.

Mohammed would have celebrated his 24th birthday, yesterday.