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Jennifer’s Grandma

A phone call at 6:00 AM woke me this morning. It was Cheau Lin with news of her grandmother.

I still remember, with a quiet sense of excitement, the first time I met Cheau Lin’s grandmother in Melaka. I had heard so much about her and couldn’t wait to meet her in person. When I finally saw her, she struck me as someone who radiated kindness.

She had a round, compassionate face, but her drooping cheeks and deep wrinkles told the story of a life filled with hardship. She was the quintessential grandmother—the kind that only a lucky few among us have had the privilege of knowing, and the kind that the rest of us wish we had.

During our first conversation, I was asked to shout everything I wanted to say—she had been deaf for quite some time. I suggested to Cheau Lin that they should get her a hearing aid, only to be told that she already had one—but out of vanity, she refused to wear it in front of guests.

She made small talk, but since she couldn’t hear my responses, our conversation was one-sided, mostly filled with reminiscing about the good old days and complaints about growing old. It felt a little odd having to shout “AH MA! HO BO!” to a tiny old lady, and I never quite got used to it.

As time passed and my visits became more frequent, she opened up and became less formal. I often found her sitting in her favorite rattan chair, lost in thought, as if she were reliving the past in her mind.

When she needed to move, she relied on a four-legged walking cane with a front basket, which usually held her handkerchief, an assortment of trinkets, and packs of 555 cigarettes.

Later, she moved to Shah Alam to live with Cheau Lin’s brother, where her mother and sister-in-law could care for her.

Then, about a year and a half ago, she suffered a stroke that left the left side of her body paralyzed.

I rushed to the hospital as soon as I heard the news. Though she could no longer speak coherently, she grunted and pointed with her right hand. When our eyes met, I could tell she recognized me.

The doctors couldn’t do much. They suggested that the family bring her home.

She could no longer chew solid food, so her meals– mostly milk– had to be pushed through a syringe into a feeding tubeleading directly into her stomach. It must have been agonizing– she tried to pull the tube out whenever she could.

I was given packs of her unopened 555 cigarettes since she couldn’t smoke anymore. I tried lighting a few out of curiosity, but they felt like smoking needles—harsh, piercing, and unforgiving. I thought to myself, it must have taken a tough lady to smoke two packs of these every single day.

Her condition never improved.

The last time I saw her alive was a week and a half ago when I accompanied Cheau Lin to Shah Alam.

Her once bubbly, expressive face was now a ghostly reflection of the woman I had first met. Her muscles had wasted away, her body weakened from months of immobility. She had also lost a tremendous amount of weight.

I called her name. I looked at her.

Blank eyes stared back.

It was too much to bear.

Earlier this week, Cheau Lin told me that her grandmother had contracted pneumonia. We both knew that the end was near. And deep down, we also knew that when the time came, it would be a relief—a release from the months of suffering she had endured.

This morning, she passed away in her sleep.

The world has lost a kind, gentle soul.

“Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also.”- John 14:1-3

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Lizards and Rubberbands Reloaded

Rachel’s near-death experience last night has prompted me to write more about the hazards of the common house gecko—a creature that, as it turns out, is capable of psychological warfare.

11:30 PM: The Call of Terror

I was in bed, eyes closed, body drenched in exhaustion, drifting into that sweet, pre-dream state where everything feels weightless.

Then— my phone rang.

It was Rachel.

Before I could even say hello, a spine-chilling scream erupted from the tiny speaker. She had skipped the pleasantries and gone straight to full-blown horror-movie mode.

Between incoherent, one-syllable shrieks, I managed to piece together the situation:

A gecko had landed on her windshield.

Now, for most people, this wouldn’t be a crisis. But Rachel is terrified of geckos. She would rather endure dental surgery without anesthesia than be within a 10-foot radius of one—even if separated by shatterproof tempered glass.

To make things worse, she was alone, driving on the highway from Shah Alam to KL.

High-Speed Panic

Adrenaline kicked in. My brain snapped into emergency mode.

“Listen to me, you need to stop the car. Right now. Pull over before you crash!”

“I CAN’T!!!!” she screamed. “IT’S STARING RIGHT INTO MY EYES!!! ARGHHHHH!!!”

I tried reasoning with her. She needed to calm down and regain control before attempting anything.

But the only response I got was more blood-curdling screams.

It was clear— panic had taken over.

Calm, logical reasoning was no longer an option.

So I switched tactics.

In my most authoritative, no-nonsense voice, I boomed:

“YOU’VE GOT TO PULL OVER NOW! FUCKIN’ PULL OVER BEFORE YOU KILL SOMEONE!”

Not my proudest moment, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I needed to snap her out of it before she plowed into another car because of a tiny reptilian intruder.

Imagine explaining that to the police.

“Officer, the accident report reads: ‘Gecko made eye contact. Driver lost will to live.’”

 

Radio Silence

Through sobs, she finally whispered, “Call you back later.”

Then—the line went dead.

I immediately dialed back.

No answer.

Instead, I got that soul-crushing recorded message:

“The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the beep.”

Beep.

For 45 minutes, I stared at my phone, heart pounding, wondering if I had done the right thing.

Had she decided to drive off a cliff in a final, kamikaze attempt to eliminate the gecko? Had she suddenly found the Hollywood-style bravery to “take down” the windshield invader, even if it meant paying the ultimate price?

Sweat began to bead on my forehead.

I dialed again.

 

The Message from the Gecko

The phone rang.

Then—she answered.

“Hello, are you okay?!” I asked, bracing for the worst.

I heard soft sobbing, but relief flooded through me when she said:

“Ok already lah.”

She was stationary. Out of the car. Alive.

“What happened to the lizard?” I asked.

“It took off,” she replied, then paused—long enough for me to realize she had just shuddered at the thought.

Then she added, in a tone that sent a chill down my spine:

“It gave me a message.”

I frowned. “A message?”

“Yes. It told me to lay off exposing them. It told me to tell you to stop writing about them.”

I stared at my phone in disbelief.

“Wait– what?”

“It wanted me to know it wasn’t kidding. And before it left… it pissed on my windshield.”

I was speechless.

“Then it deployed its parachute and floated off somewhere along Jalan Tun Razak.”

The geckos.

They know.

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The Passion of the Christ

I may not be a theology student or a Bible-quoting expert, but I found Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ to be a powerful film—one that has the potential to bring lost sheep back to the flock.

Authenticity vs. Artistic License

Mel Gibson (not God, just to be clear) set out to make this film both authentic and engaging, and for the most part, he succeeded. However, a few historical and scriptural inaccuracies stood out:

  • While Aramaic was widely spoken at the time, the Gospels were originally written in Greek, and there is evidence that Jesus also spoke Greek (as discussed in scholarly debates, including one on the American Scientific Affiliation forum). Additionally, Latin and Hebrew were also used in that era.
  • Another questionable portrayal is the implication that Mary Magdalene and the adulteress being stoned were the same person—a common misconception not supported by the Gospels.

Other than these, the movie stays relatively faithful to the Gospel narratives—except for that one flashback where Jesus casually invents the dinette table. But hey, a little artistic license never hurt anyone.

Is It Anti-Semitic?

In my opinion, the film itself is not anti-Semitic. Nothing was added by the filmmakers that wasn’t already present in the Gospels. And even then, the Gospels, when read in context, are not anti-Semitic.

Yes, the New Testament mentions Jewish leaders plotting against Jesus, but Jesus and His followers were also Jewish. Saying that the Gospels are anti-Semitic would be like saying Chiang Kai-shek was anti-Chinese because he wanted to eliminate Mao Zedong—it just doesn’t make sense.

What likely irks some Jewish groups is that the Bible records that, 2,000 years ago, some Jews (specifically the Pharisees) conspired against a man who claimed to be the Messiah. However, this is historical context, not an indictment of all Jews for all time.

Unfortunately, some people take things out of context—like the pastor in Denver’s Lovingway United Pentecostal Church, who decided to put up a sign reading:

“Jews killed the Lord Jesus.”

This was a blatant misinterpretation of 1 Thessalonians 2:14-15 and only serves to highlight how ignorant some so-called Christians can be. The message of Christ is about love and understanding, not blame.

What Really Matters

At the end of the day, the real question isn’t who killed Christ—it’s why He died.

That, more than anything else, is the true heart of the story.

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The 11th Malaysian General Elections

In a year devoid of any real controversy, Malaysians will be heading to the polls on March 21, 2004. So, the question is—who to vote for?

The Incumbents: A Sure Win?

First off, the ruling party is looking stronger than ever. The opposition will have to ditch their “black book” of old grievances because, well, the Old Man has retired, and the new guy is doing a decent job so far.

And in Malaysian politics, where forgiveness is practically a national pastime, any attempt to rehash past government failures will likely fall flat with voters:

“Haiyaa, now PM also change already what, why bring up somemore?”

With a solid (if flawed) performance record, it’s hard to deny that this election will serve as a renewed endorsement for the incumbents. That said, without cronyism and corruption, we could have achieved so much more in a shorter time.

One thing I’d love to see? Some old guards losing their seats to make way for fresh blood.

The Rocket Party: A Silent Countdown to Self-Destruction?

I’ll be rooting for my favorite social democratic (or democratic socialist) party, even though their silence and absence over the past five years makes one wonder…

Did they suffer a “rocket malfunction” due to NASA budget cuts?

Or worse—are they on a collision course with electoral disintegration, set to explode into a spectacular fireworks display this election season?

Tough questions, but in an election devoid of major social issues, there’s not much to exploit.

Anwar: The Office Pakcik’s Pick for PM?

Of course, if you ask my office Pakcik, the only thing that matters is voting fairly and freeing Anwar.

To be fair, Anwar is a formidable politician—he has charisma, respect, and the ability to stir up the crowd like a pro. He’s also pro-business, which is just a polite way of saying he has his own personal business interests (but then again, who doesn’t?).

So what if he’s a poof? (His words, not mine.)

Personally, I have no issues with his alleged sexuality, but let’s be real—getting caught naked in bed and “getting jiggy” with self-righteous mullahs is just bad optics.

My suggestion? Drop the Taliban ties and focus on real issues instead of trying to be Malaysia’s Aung San Suu Kyi.

The Islamic Hardliners: The Fun Police is Coming

Ah yes, our very own made-in-Malaysia brand of religious extremists—whose declared mission is to rewrite the Constitution, transforming our moderately Islamic (but still secular-ish) state into a full-fledged theocracy.

Their big idea? Strip the country of all “vices” and impose a moral code on everyone.

Now, that might ensure them a spot in heaven, but what about the unbelievers? And where’s the fun in life if some of us can’t chomp on our favorite pork knuckles while downing a pint or two?

Let the Campaign Season Begin!

I can’t wait to attend the ceramahs—because if nothing else, Malaysian elections are always a spectacle worth watching.

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Lizards and Rubberbands

A friend of mine, Rachel (name changed to protect ME), recently shared an interesting theory: Common House Geckos (Hemidactylus frenatus) are mysteriously attracted to rubber bands.

According to a series of experiments she conducted—and allegedly replicated by a Libyan scientific team– she has proven this claim.

Now, as much as I’d love to verify this firsthand, I currently have plenty of geckos in my home but not a single rubber band. So, in the interest of science, I present Rachel’s step-by-step guide so you can try it at home:

How to Test the Gecko-Rubber Band Theory

  1. Place a rubber band in a corner or any spot where geckos like to hang out.
  2. Memorize the location.
  3. Take a photograph (if you have a camera), and label it “Before.”
  4. No camera? No problem. Take a mental photograph (stare and blink real hard). Label it “Before” in your head.
  5. Go about your day for at least 12 hours.
  6. Return to the spot where you left the rubber band.
  7. Take another photograph (if you have a camera), and compare it to your “Before” shot.
  8. No camera? Again, stare and blink real hard, then compare it to your mental image.

The Expected Results

If Rachel’s theory holds, the rubber band will have mysteriously moved.

The Weirdest Part? This isn’t even the strangest claim.

Rachel also swears she has personally witnessed geckos using rubber bands as:

  • Hula hoops
  • Skipping ropes
  • Waist belts (for what must have been a very chonky gecko)

She even complains about the mess these geckos leave behind after their wild nights of rubber band revelry.

Bonus Gecko Fact:

Apparently, geckos also have a strong attraction to Spirulina.

So, if your rubber band experiment doesn’t yield the expected results, try again—this time, baiting them with Spirulina.

Because, you know, science.

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The Oscars 2004

As an avid movie fan, I found this year’s Academy Awards particularly interesting.

For the first time ever, a fantasy film– The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King—shattered the long-standing glass ceiling that confined such films to technical categories like Sound Editing and Special Effects. Instead, it went all the way, clinching both Best Director and Best Picture.

Kudos to the happy Hobbits, elegant Elves, gruff-looking Dwarves, wise Wizards, and humble Humans who brought Middle-earth (or, as we call it in this dimension, New Zealand) to life. And, of course, massive credit to Peter Jackson, who– once a George Lucas-ian nobody– spent nearly a decade turning Tolkien’s highly revered (but let’s be honest, stupendously dense and slow-paced) tome into cinematic magic.

That said, I can’t help but feel a tiny bit disappointed that Bill Murray didn’t take home Best Actor for Lost in Translation. His performance was brilliant—subtle, melancholic, and deeply human. But at least the film didn’t go home empty-handed, with Sofia Coppola winning Best Original Screenplay.

As for her speech, let’s just say her on-stage aloofness was either due to a terminal case of bashfulness or she was still mentally recovering from her ill-fated role in The Godfather Part III.

Either way, not a bad night for film history.