I told you I have my doubts about the sodomy allegation against Anwar. Malaysiakini’s breaking news reveals that apparently the good doctor from Pusrawi found no traces of sodomy on Mohd Saiful Bukhari Azlan. Apparently the good doctor now goes missing just like Bala. All fingers seem to be directed to one source only: that is the said allegation was made just to frame Anwar.
The trial by media has officially kicked off in this high-profile case. However, to publish the doctor’s report is to seriously undermine his pledge under Hippocratic Oath which governed all physicians in the world. The old charter dictates that “all that come to my knowledge in the exercise of my profession or in daily commerce with men, which ought not to be spread abroad, I will keep secret and will never reveal“. If the doctor stays true to this pledge, I can only make my own conclusion as to why he goes into hiding. What about you?
Brain refuses to budge. Creative flow, or whatever that’s left of it, halts for no apparent reason. My soul screams in frustration; my heart kicks in anger. Hassan’s stories lay neglected on my absolutely-to-die-for writing desk. I could hear Hassan “tsking” away at my lack of progress. The fact that he is sailing thousands of miles across the Pacific Ocean does not stop him from frowning at me in disgust. I couldn’t quite apportion the blame to this misery. I suspect it must have been the recent change of address for my family. Like a true Taurean, I weather changes with unfriendly attitude. The move to this new abode must be the cause of me not writing anything from the heart.
I miss my pathetic less-than-a-thousand-square-feet apartment. I long for the balcony where I penned down thousands of my incoherent thoughts on my aging moleskin (badly wrinkled and stains of coffee visible from every corner). That balcony had been a Camelot of my life for the past four years. Here I am at the fringe of the new house staring into nothingness. The smell of jasmine permeates the air; the smell grandma loves so much. The drunken sailor struggles to embrace the pillar in its stunted growth. And the frangipani, its young branch soaring up, hoisting a new bloom of white and pink: it smells like heaven. But even the tender touch of nature fails to uplift my spirit as I yearn for my old library in Setiawangsa home.
I remember the day my husband shelved up the old library many years ago. Disgusted by the sight of books strewn around the house, he stormed into Ikea and bought 5 shelves, measuring 8 feet in width. He paid the handyman handsomely to mount the shelves against the wall in the second bedroom. He named the place – with old books haphazardly arranged – “my wife’s library”. I used to sit in that library for hours on end. Once during my pregnancy, I fell asleep on the floor trying to finish the baby journal I started. I was obsessed with Dr. Stoppard’s books and I e-mailed my obstetrician on monthly weekly basis. I wrote notes after notes for Luqman.
A day before Luqman was born, he did not stop kicking the wall of my stomach. I wreathed in utter pain. Hopeless, I sat on the chair in the library and put “Besame Mucho” on air. Miraculously, the child stopped kicking. The song soothed him. I slept a dreamless sleep after that. Lost and forgotten in that space, I found the deepest of solace and comfort I can’t quite explain in so many words. Prior to the move, Mama stripped the shelves bare of books; my heart sank looking at the bereft library.
As I wait for Encik Mukhlas to set up my new library at this still-foreign-home to me, I understand that life evolves and I must make peace with it. Jefree, like a good husband he sometimes is, forsook his other plan for the house to finish up my new library. He must have sensed my restlessness of not having that space to call my own. For that, my love for him knows no bound.
Goodnight sleepless wherever you are…
I told you before that we bloggers are Tuesday people. Gabey Goh, a reporter with the blogger-friendly Malay Mail, does a feature on this blog. The afternoon-daily coincidently publishes the feature on Tuesday which falls on MRT day and hence give me a window of opportunity to gloat about it with my fellow bloggers.
I know I am not a millionaire bloggers like some of them (ahem!) but this is enough to make me smile the whole day! Here’s the URL of the article.
I knew Dalilah – or darling as she is fondly known among good friends – through blogging, where the spirit of sisterhood is palpable in the air every time we meet. She survived breast cancer four years ago and she moves one with such a positive attitude I wonder where she gets it from. Her amiable husband, Mambang Hijau, adores her to bits. So do her two wonderful boys: Adam and Idris.
And today is her birthday. I planned to call her this morning to ask if she is coming to Mee Rebus Tuesday tomorrow so I could secretly buy a cake to surprise her. Instead, she has a surprise for me. Raden Galoh sent me a text message. The text reads, “Inna lillahi wainna ilaihi rojiun. The cancer spreads to the ribs, liver, left collarbone nodes and the nodes at the right jaw“. I learnt later that she just came back from seeing her oncologist and that is the diagnosis.
I was dumbfounded for a good half and hour before I could think again. Soon phone calls started flying off among the bloggers. I managed to talk to her and I was a wreck. I can’t be like Doctor Zulhisham who has been a her pillar of strength. Neither could I be as experienced as Kak Ena and Kak Ton – they lost 2 sisters to cancer – in facing the monster of all disease. They surely know what to say. So here I am, writing incoherently, as I don’t know what else to do.
Darling initially planned to bring her two boys to Cherating this weekend to celebrate her 14th wedding anniversary which falls on July 23rd. But now she has to cancel that as she is scheduled for a chemotherapy treatment a day after tomorrow. Apparently the Oncologist thinks that “the condition is not good“. I don’t have the strength to ask what she means by that.
What is left for me to do now is say a prayer for her. I hope we all can do that for Darling, Mambang Hijau and her two boys.
[Above: Pictures of Darling and us during happier times few months ago]
Malaysiakini reports that Anwar has been released on police bail this morning. The de facto PRK leader headed straight home in Bukit Segambut where he will call for a press conference at 2 p.m. today. Most importantly, no charge has been pressed on Anwar.
I woke up this morning hearing a beep on my blackberry. Doctor-blogger Tokasid beat Malaysiakini in informing me about Anwar’s release. Amidst my groggy disposition in the morning – prior to that first compulsory cup of coffee – I can’t help but wonder how bizarrely fast certain bloggers manage to know the latest development in the country. The fact that he practices medicine in Malacca does not seem to hinder him in anyway. Heh!
What bugs me after browsing the Star this morning is CID Chief Mohd Bakri’s explanation as to why they arrested Anwar an hour before the deadline. CID Chief said that the arrest was done because the police FEARED that Anwar wouldn’t turn up at the police headquarters to give his statement. In all fairness Bakri, you should really start reading Malaysiakini and alternative media for Anwar did give a statement (which was televised live on prime news last night) that he didn’t want to be late to see you from the ACA office in Putrajaya. Duh!
Please bear in mind that as events unfold in Malaysia’s political landscape, we are observed under the watchful eyes of the foreign media, representatives of which already set up a camp in the city. It is our duty to the country to show that we uphold the rules of law and by arresting him before the deadline is just plain stupid.
No, I am not pro Pakatan Rakyat neither am I against the ruling government. I just can’t stand blatant stupidity and baseless explanation, that’s all. Off to work now.
Malaysiakini at 1.16 pm reports that PKR’s de facto leader, Anwar Ibrahim, was arrested outside his house one hour before the deadline splashed on the Star newspaper.
In 1998, both pre and post Anwar’s arrest, the country saw one of the bloodiest street protest after May 13, 1969. I repeat Harris Ibrahim, “people, be calm, please”. I am leaving the office early today, just in case.
(access to Malaysiakini and PKR’s website is virtually impossible!)