Cleaning Out My Closet

Natalie Shobana Ambrose (18 December, 2008- theSun)

My room’s a mess! It’s the end of the year and I’m trying to get rid of unwanted stuff. Whenever I buy clothing, I feel I need to throw an old piece out. If I’ve not worn something for a year, it’s supposed to go into the bin. So here I am trying everything on and hoarding the lot!

It's also the time of the year when I reflect on my past year and make personal changes. I look back …smile at the good times, laugh at the unexpected, sigh at the bad, cry for the loss and perhaps dig into the chocolate stash for an endorphin boost for the failed resolutions.

It’s nice to think about what the future holds, but I also need to take responsibility for my mistakes and implement the lessons of 2008 as I plan for 2009. It's about practicing good stewardship of my time, resources and abilities. I will still fall short but at least I would have gained from taking responsibility rather than blaming others.

I did a lot of reflecting on a tour bus in India last year. And as I reflected Mahatma Gandhi’s words became my theme for 2008 "Be the change you want to see in the world". I started simple - took my vitamins diligently, thought about what I wanted in the different areas of my life - spiritual, family, friends, work, study, play (etc) and thought about how I intended to achieve them.

As I look at the year we’ve had and reflect on what I hope to achieve in 2009 I think I need to add another category to the list- how I can be a better citizen. Will I be complacent? Will I be active? Will I speak up? Will I grumble in my corner? Will I build up or will I tear down? Will I choose to work with others? Will I walk away? I truly believe that even as insignificant as we may think we are, we can be that change for we are not only responsible for what we do but what we are silent to.

I look back at how 2008 has turned out. It differs from what I thought it would be and I can learn so much from it. 2008 has been one of those years that I’ll remember - a year of change.

It’s been a crazy year for Malaysia and an upside down year for most of the world. This year has definitely made many people think as it has impacted us all. Natural disasters in China, war in Georgia, terrorism in India, political instability in Thailand, stock markets crashing around the world, bank bailouts in the United States, petrol prices, recession, landslides, floods, royal commissions, ISA arrests, helicopter deals, fatwas, hijacked oil ships, debates and March 8th. It has been quite a year!

But have we learnt?

I often think that even with Vision 2020, we fall short in our planning. The initial petrol hike of 70 cents a liter this year is one example. But instead of accepting the blame, we tend to pat ourselves on the back for every 10 cent reduction as the months go on. However, the mee goreng stall that increased its prices a few months back still charges the increased rate. It’s just a few cents to most Malaysians but to the poor it means not enjoying a plate of mee goreng. And no one’s doing anything about it.

Last year there was a landslip on Jalan Duta which took months to clear up. This year, a landslide occurred approximately 100 meters away. A few days yet another landslide destroyed homes and lives. But instead of taking responsibility, each department is blaming someone else. One can delegate authority but one can’t delegate responsibility. Maybe a resolution worth considering.


So how will 2009 turn out? We’ve got a few big changes we know of and many surprises ahead I’m sure. As I reflect and clean out my closet, I wonder what our leaders are thinking of throwing out and taking responsibility for.



Natalie hopes her plans for 2009 aren’t vetoed and thinks she might need a bigger closet.

Comment: letters@thesundaily.com

Maturity and Politics

Natalie Shobana Ambrose (4 December, 2008 - theSun)

I used to be a football fan- well at least I used to know who plays in what team and what game is on… but those days are long gone now. I’ve wondered for a while though how for years these players look out for self- which team will want to buy them and where they will go. They get transfered, move countries and continents to play, representing themselves, their own interests and play against other skilled players who may even be from their same hometown.

However, once every four years during the World Cup, they all head back and join their home squad not to represent themselves but to represent their country. There’s a sense of pride that they want to work together and do their best for their country and they do.

The goal then is to win for their country. So even if their teammate is a rival the rest of the time, when it’s World Cup time, they are going to stick together, work together, do their best and play well. If they don’t, they are only sabotaging themselves - disappointing their own people and those rooting for them.

American politics of late has made me feel like it’s World Cup time, while Malaysian politics (sigh) continues like the World Cup doesn’t even exist.

On the American campaign trail McCain defended his rival Obama when a McCain supporter spoke ill of the President elect. He didn’t just brush it off, he stood there and corrected his own supporter and said he’s not a terrorist

“No, he’s a good man and he’s a family man”.

Five days after McCain lost the elections, he was interviewed on Jay Leno. Now these American television hosts can be pretty tactless and ask tough questions. When asked, Senator McCain said of his rival, “I admire and respect the winner- Senator, President- elect Barack Obama” … And later went on to say that his rival is a good and decent person. He continued by saying “now it’s time for America to join together and support the man who was just elected President.”

McCain blew me away with maturity and without saying it, I knew he loved his country so much that he wanted the best for it and would do his best.

Can Malaysian politics emulate this example? Instead in Malaysia every opposing view is a threat, every ruling view is a warning and anyone with a view should shut up, or gets put away or is issued a show-cause letter. Maturity is a foreign concept in Malaysian politics with name calling, kindergarten behavior, dirty tactics and the lack of solidarity.

During the campaign trail Obama, and Hillary were at each other’s necks, but earlier this week Obama picked the best for his dream team. Putting differences aside he said of Clinton ‘an American of tremendous stature who will have my complete confidence’.

He’s also not discarding the old and keeping the current Defence Secretary. Natural human pride would have disposed of everything opposing but these choices show that he is committed to a better future for America. He feels the peoples cry.

I wish of Malaysian politicians to be as mature. Can we take the good, discard the bad and work together to be an example of Asian values even in the political sphere?

When our leaders behave badly, can we expect any better of the people?

If anything, as Asians we are known for our sense of community and caring for one another. Today that is not true. We are fighting over everything because we take everything personally.

Are our politicians crying for the nation like we are? Only when they are, will we see change.

In any race, we fight for a prize but if getting that prize means putting someone down and tripping another then what did you win? The same goes for wars. Who wins in a war?

As Asians, we are so concerned about saving face and so we stop telecasts of parliament sessions, to avoid embarrassment and we cover up sensitive issues. Why don’t we stop saving our own faces, and start saving our country’s face – and start being more mature and fight for Malaysia instead of ourselves.

Natalie believes that political maturity is about working together for the good of the country.

Comment: letters@thesundaily.com

Dreaming for Change

Natalie Shobana Ambrose (20 November, 2008 - theSun)

A few years ago, I was at a function where a group of children no taller that 1m were asked what they would like to be when they grew up. There was the usual doctor, lawyer, engineer responses and what have you when suddenly the crowd laughed when a little girl boldly declared she’d like to be a zoo keeper. I bet there were disapproving people around who thought she’d make a good nurse instead of a zoo keeper. I though, just wanted to know what wonderful parents she had who allowed her to dream and be proud of her dreams.

In primary school, at a certain time in each academic year, students have to fill the “When I grow up form”. Till today, I have no clue what the purpose of this was, except for comic relief years later. Even though I never ever wanted to be a doctor I penned the ‘right’ answer- I’d like to be a doctor first, then lawyer and I can’t remember what the third option was.

Honestly, I couldn’t care less what I wanted to be then. I was more interested in the Care Bears, Scooby Doo and Thunder Cats (HO!) than to think of life 20 years down the line. What I really wanted at that age was probably to be a superhero or stuff myself silly with ice-cream and cake while playing all day long with my cousins.

As I think about this little zoo keeper, and how proud she was of her answer, I thought, what if I’d written crocodile hunter under option 3- what would have happened? What if I said I’d like to be prime minister of Malaysia or a mechanic, a rubbish collector or even vice chancellor? I’m sure if I dared it would have been written in my report card that I was quite the dreamer and needed a huge dose of reality.

As adults we become so jaded that we forget to dream because our dreams were quashed a long time ago. We then end up being a barrier to the young dreamers among us crushing their spirit for change.

There is a danger though when we decide in our heads that our dreams are just dreams and not worth pursuing because of the prejudices and obstacles that abound or just because that’s the way things work while we take on a ‘what does it matter’ attitude. When we stop dreaming we stop wanting to see change and become complacent, hopeless and end up being dream catchers - instead of dream enablers.

This year many dreams came true at the ballot box for various countries - dreams of change and hope for a different few years ahead, for a better, more transparent, just, livable hopeful future. This change started with a dream, a dream that for many seemed impossible and a dream that if dreamt 20 years ago would have been quashed.

I spend an hour a week with a group of awesome teenagers, hoping that they continue to dream and become history makers and I believe they already are becoming history makers just by believing in their dreams.

Many times, I wonder where the dreamer in me went. Some days I think I’m too old to be a history maker and maybe I should be writing my bucket list so that I’m not too old to do it all. But I think we all can be history makers, by taking a stand, speaking up for what is right, for not accepting bad service, by being polite, for demanding accountability, insisting on transparency, disagreeing with marginalization and taking an interest in the country that we call home.

We should not let power, class, race, age or a quota system stop us from dreaming, hoping and wanting change. As small as we may think our voice is, our dreams still matter and carry weight. We don’t have to be an Obama to change the world, we can start by being polite to the foreign workers at the petrol station or even to our neighbors. We can start believing we can make a difference and stop being complacent about things only contributing to the Ugly Malaysian syndrome.

We should be more like the mother in the book “For one more day” who took her young son back to the library and rebuked the librarian for saying that the book he wanted to borrow was ‘too hard’ for someone his age.

Are we limiting our dreams and being left behind while the rest of the world aims much higher and achieves more than we can ever imagine?

Will you dare to dream the impossible for a better you and a better Malaysia and a better world?

Natalie thinks that we should all dream big and dream for change because dreaming is free.

Comments: letters@thesundaily.com

Gimme, Gimme, Gimme

Natalie Shobana Ambrose (6 November, 2008 - theSun)

I never knew biting into an apple was a luxury until I heard about life when my grandfather was alive. With 7 young mouths to feed, everything was shared equally including apples! It wasn’t that there was not enough for everyone, rather, the act of sharing needed to be inculcated from young and where better to learn than at home.

Many of us have probably never shared an apple. Or never even thought an apple could be shared. As a child, I remember each weekly trip to the pasar malam came with a reward of sugared jelly sweets. 200 grams shared equally with my siblings onto some tissue paper- once again, not because there wasn’t enough but because we needed to be taught about sharing… and we needed to be taught about greed.

Sharing my portion of sweets was very difficult, even when I couldn’t eat it all. As Oscar Wilde once said “There are many things we would throw away, if we were not afraid that others might pick them up”. I didn’t want anyone else to have my left-overs even if I couldn’t eat it all- because it was mine and I earned it. I want it all!

Greed is a funny thing, because it borders want and justification of what one thinks they deserve – a bottomless ugly pit. The more we have, the more we want. The more we want, the more we think we need and once we’ve convinced ourselves of this need and how much we deserve it- the more greed sinks its claws into us. Making us do things we’d rather not own up to. I suppose greed doesn’t matter if it doesn’t hurt anyone. But the very nature of greed is the fact that it takes away from others, and it never stops robbing.

Everyone’s talking about the global economic crisis, the stock market’s downward tumble and all the economic woes it brings. So where did all that money actually go? Large investment houses don’t go bust just like that? The piles of money are somewhere- it couldn’t have just disappeared. If we go to the heart of the matter- it probably started with greed. Greed for more and more and more when finally there was no more left.

I sometimes look at the world’s super rich and wonder how much money is enough. I admire people like Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, Barron Hilton, cooking goddess Nigella Lawson and the best 007 agent Sean Connery who have decided to give away their millions not to their children but to the world in need.

We Malaysians seem to have the ‘super-size me’ Mc Donalds syndrome. From the tallest towers, to the largest shopping malls, to mega infrastructure programmes and multi-billion dollar agreements…. Why not? After all we earned it and it shows that we are doing well, we’re progressing and prospering. But how many of these ‘project’s have lined the pockets of ‘people doing their job’.

Juxtaposed against the beautiful Twin Towers and the magnificent Putrajaya Bridge are the poor Penans, the stateless Malaysians, the poor armed forces who have to travel on the flying coffin Nuri, young children left behind because there isn’t enough money to build proper schools and the poor single mothers trying to make ends meet.


A few months ago, I visited Myanmar after Nagris had devastated a land already in turmoil. The people didn’t have enough- they didn’t have enough before Nagris, and they had almost nothing after. What touched my heart though was how fast those that ‘had’ wanted to help. As it was, they didn’t live in a lap of luxury- far from it, but they were willing to give up their little ‘luxury’ to help those who had nothing.


On one hand, we Malaysians want to be a developed nation and on the other hand we are willing to let our siblings suffer. When did we learn not to share our wealth and feed our greed?



Natalie wonders how different her life would have been had her grandfather “thatha” still been alive.

Comment: letters@thesun-daily.com

Silencing Our Future... But At What Cost?

Natalie Shobana Ambrose (23 October, 2008- theSun)

WHAC-A-Mole is my favourite carnival game. A game of great skill and precision – where you use a mallet and try to bop the moles on the head as they pop up. As a kid, I don’t think I ever got very far in the game because, to even lift the Fred Flintstone-like hammer was heavy enough, let alone hit any of the moles. But I still loved the game.

What I noticed though was that the longer you play the game, the harder you end up hitting the moles ... But they just keep popping right back up and make horrible taunting sounds.

My Whac-A-Mole goal was not to study strategy or analyse mole pop-up sequences. It was really about silencing them. With each hit, one hopes that you’ve nailed it. But another mole pops up, squeals … and this goes on, and on and on. All I wanted to do is to get rid of them and I wouldn’t stop till my time was up. I wonder what the creators were thinking when they invented this mindless game. Human nature, perhaps?

If something is annoying me, hit it. If someone is making a noise I dislike, silence it. Quite like an annoying mosquito. The automatic reaction would be to kill it, eventhough you might end up slapping yourself instead!

It reminds me a lot about ideas and movements. No matter how good an idea is, there is always opposition to it. No matter how good a movement is, there will be a segment that disapproves. As far as history goes, there have been many movements against injustices of all kinds and each has faced antagonism and often aggression and oppression. Basically someone "whac-ing" it to a pulp.

Oppression has been a catalyst for many movements. Silencing the movement only makes people more creative in their fight to be heard for change. No matter how many times we try and "whac" a movement down, it is bound to re-badge, re-invent and be stronger than before.

As we look at times past, an interesting point to remember is that there were quite a few movements and people who made history and changed many lives across the world, not just in their country. Faced with persecution, life imprisonment and even the threat of death, these people chose to persevere; sacrificing their lives to change the plight of others, for the betterment of their country ... And in the end, they succeeded in making a difference.

I do not remember the name of the bus driver who insisted Rosa Parks give up her seat to a white passenger. But the world remembers Rosa Parks and how she helped end segregation by her "disobedience". I don’t remember all those who imprisoned Gandhi – or, even the name of his assassin – but the Mahatma’s teachings will be remembered and practised for all time. Aung San Suu Kyi’s sacrifices for her country will be remembered forever in Myanmar’s history, but the junta’s? Likewise, I have no clue who kept Nelson Mandela in prison all those years but, even in Malaysia, we agreed that apartheid was unconscionable and didn’t allow Malaysians to travel to South Africa, until recently. Mandela’s cries for justice were heard everywhere – even in our own country.

These are people who had the courage to say "Enough!", stood up, spoke up, cared enough to make a difference and became heroes around the world. Perhaps oppression fuelled their will to fight and forced them to persevere in their beliefs and cause. What a slap in the face to their critics and oppressors!

If we could only learn from the mistakes of others, and stop using a hammer to kill a mosquito, we might avoid cutting our noses to spite our face. We should recognise and acknowledge our heroes instead of silencing them.

Natalie echoes US Senator Margaret Chase Smith’s statement "Moral cowardice that keeps us from speaking our minds is as dangerous to this country as irresponsible talk".

Comment: letters@thesundaily.com.

What Colour Is Your Heart?

Natalie Shobana Ambrose (9 October, 2008 - theSun)

Not too long ago, I was introduced to a Japanese dish called Okonomiyaki. Just the name makes me love this dish, especially when saying it fast with an elongated ending. I bet you just tried saying it didn’t you? It does have a ring to it, you’ve got to admit

Okonomiyaki reminds me of, Malaysia. Not that we are an omelette filled with gastronomic surprises like octopus, cabbage, squid and everything else but that we are a mixture of everything- from race, culture, traditions, food and taboos. And with such a mixture comes certain sensitivities- things we just don’t do because it offends. And that list can be pretty long. But we observe it anyway to keep the peace.

But what I’ve noticed about Malaysia is that we are so consumed by race. When we meet a new face, who doesn’t fit into the three races represented by the ruling party, we end up more consumed with what mixture they are, then who they are or what they have to say. Or when a friend relates a traffic accident, the immediate question is not what colour the cars were but what race the person who caused the accident was. So that we have a clear mental picture of this incident in full colour!

A friend of mine had begun a relationship with an expatriate. Compatible in every way and over the moon consumed by love, a daunting question that recurred was that the expatriate partner was not of the same ethnic make-up. And it bothered my friend. What was sad about this is that if they were living in a not-so-ethnocentric country, it wouldn’t even be a problem.

I felt as if I was in a time warp. It almost seemed like we were talking about America during the slavery years and the taboo of mixed marriages back in the day. But this conversation happened right here in multicultural, multiethnic Malaysia in 2008.

In another incident, my kindergarten- going niece came home gleefully announcing that she had a boyfriend. Of course my curious family wanted to know which race box the young man fit in. So the question was asked, “What is he?” And she pondered, smiled and said, “He’s peach coloured!”

Cute as it may be, it just showed how important the colour of one’s skin is in today’s Malaysia

A classmate once said that polite conversation steers clear of race, religion and politics. But what else is more current in Malaysia?

Politeness in Malaysia means varied things, from taking our shoes off before entering a home, to a little bow as we walk through a conversation. Each race, culture and religion has its own set of do’s and don’ts. Respect our elders, another’s difference and embrace other cultures. It’s part of our culture, indoctrinated in us from the time we were young.

I’m sure like many others, we’ve all been brushed by a rude person or perhaps even been rude ourselves. It is said that positive attributes like good manners, civility, respect, graciousness all begin at home. But so does discrimination, racism, prejudice, intolerance, bigotry and insolence.

No matter how many laws we have or race-relations acts enacted, it doesn’t change the attitude of each one of us, unless we truly believe in the good in others. I’m guilty of limiting people to the colour of their skin based on my prejudices. But just as I abhor being discriminated, I too have to be less prejudiced . After all we can change our minds, but we can’t change our colour… unless you’re Michael Jackson!

We all have our prejudices of the various races- and what they are known for. The crimes, bad habits, social ills. But it doesn’t mean that all in that race are the same and we can all learn from each other regardless of race.

On the surface, we may be polite because we’ve mastered the art of polite racism with our prejudices. But sometimes we aren’t even polite about it.

Natalie hopes if the Race Relations Act comes to pass that it would not be another law to discriminate instead, prevent discrimination.

Comment: letters@thesundaily.com.

Righting the Might

Natalie Shobana Ambrose (18 September, 2008 - theSun)

EACH day I get bullied. Recently, on my way to work, a lorry honked only to overtake from the left. The vehicle sped past me on the emergency lane and then cut in front of me!
I calmed myself with the phrase “Might is right”.

Almost in a flash, I remembered the exact moment I first learnt that phrase. It was when a bus squeezed its way ahead of us. I was a young child then. Angered, I asked my mum why she let the bus cut in, she said “Might is right” and explained that more people were on the bus, shrugging off my cries of protest that “it still doesn’t make it right!”

So began my indoctrination into believing that might must be right.

You see, I don’t just get bullied on the road by fast fancy cars flashing their lights, telling me to get off their road, I get bullied by durian sellers who raise their prices, by store owners who know I will pay that extra 20 sen for yogurt because it’s too small an amount to argue about.

I get bullied by mobile service providers who make millions by charging an arm and a foot for shoddy service, by cops that pull over drivers because they have somehow failed to adhere to an imaginary or unwritten traffic regulation.

I get bullied by newspapers that are skewed in their reporting, by restaurants that charge for drinking water which should be free, by our unique version of landed gentry, Lords and Sirs who believe they reign over the little people.

Unfortunately, we become immune to bullying. Like the frog in the kettle – we just “take it”!

It has become part of our culture, so why fight it? We’d rather be polite then kick up a fuss. After all, if we do, we might be put away never to be seen or heard from as our actions might be interpreted as disrupting the peaceful state we are told we live in.

Bullying masks itself in many forms. Through policies, laws, harassment, character assassination, lies, framing, influence, money, politics, corruption and – the list is endless.

So how do we respond?

Personally, I know it is much harder to speak up against bullying because it is difficult to prove. What laws or covenants were broken … Especially when no rules were written in the first place?
Standing up though always comes with a price – a price not for the bully but the bullied. The cost is often prohibitive! For that reason, it sometimes takes a third party to determine that there was indeed an act of bullying, because it’s so subjective in nature.

I feel like I’m the third party in Malaysian politics. With the ruling group on one side and the so-called opposition on the other, then there is me – a member of the third party. Every day the first two parties hurl insults at each other, when they gnaw at the other’s policies, character and past. As a third party – an observer and certainly not a participant, I feel bullied.

Bullied because at the end of the day, I don’t like my options of which party is going to stand up for my rights, my wellbeing and look after my country if all they are interested in doing is bullying each other through sly remarks and schoolchildren tactics of strong arming and bulldozing everything in sight even the good just because it’s not packaged the way they would like.

There is a powerful phrase that would be good to remember, “Any action committed in anger is an action doomed to failure.” If only we could move beyond our human nature to bully, and remember these wise words, we might move forward instead of remaining static as a country, as a people. But more so we might avoid an embarrassing, irreversible regrettable situation.

There comes a time when the third party gets fed up and wants change. Speaks up for change and forces change. I believe the third party is united. As the silent majority fighting for a better Malaysia, I hope we will always stand up to what is right. Not might!

Natalie hopes that bullying like poverty will soon see an end, be reduced and one day even eradicated.

Comment: letters@thesundaily.com.

Come On! Let's Be Consistent In Our Quest For Morality

Natalie Shobana Ambrose (4 September, 2008 - theSun)

MALAYSIA is a mixture of cultures, values and principles. A juxtaposition of modern living and traditional values, we are at home when we see women fully clad in Muslim attire while walking past another with the tiniest of shorts allowing for half her bottom to be on display. It seems perfectly normal and acceptable. After all we are a varied culture and these items of clothing are readily available in most clothing stores and pasar malam stalls.

While perhaps an older generation might not approve of the mini-skirts and ultra short shorts, somehow the Malaysian censorship board seems ok with it. I used to think that what we watched on television was rated U but how often do I have to change the channel because titillation is not my thing.

Some people might say I am ultra conservative. But when I turn on the radio or TV and the singer is asking for someone to touch her body, throw her on the bed and describes where her thighs will be, I think that can be categorised as “porn”.

Or what about another singer who describes to his listeners his fantasy of making love in the club with a woman he just met. Or the singer who describes how she brings all the boys to the yard with her milkshake? And she’s not talking about the tasty beverage. Then there is the singer who sings about smacking that on the floor till you get sore. Mind you those lyrics get worse as the song plays on. This is what plays on our radio stations and our TV channels.

It’s not just songs about glorifying promiscuity that are played everywhere around us. There’s a new hit entitled Everybody Nose. A rather catchy song, nevertheless a song glamorising snorting drugs. There’s another that is played on Malaysian radio about cleaning out the closet. But it ain’t about household chores. Rather, it is an angry hate rant about how much the singer detests his mother for the childhood he had.

It is worrying that what is acceptable these days is borderline pornography or advocating bad behaviour. Can we then blame our teens who exchange sex videos on their mobile phones, or get involved in crime? Are we consistent in our teaching the young to wisely choose what they listen to and how they dress? Are we raising men and women who respect each other and know they are not just flesh commodities? Or are we still not talking about these issues to the young and contradicting ourselves.

Somehow what we listen and watch does subconsciously influence how we think or expect to be treated if we are not educated about right behaviour.

When we disagree that pop concerts are not part of our culture, we need to be consistent. Consistent about what is readily available on our TV’s and Radio Stations and what we ban. We can’t censor or ban every single thing, but as a country that is moderate in beliefs, though we may be different in ethnicity and culture, we do share similar moral opinions as Asians.

What we do need though is consistency. We need to be able to talk about sex, drugs, bad behaviour not just make them taboo topics because no matter how hard we try to ignore them, curious minds will find out and experiment. So, would it not be better to have well-informed, mature youth who are able to make educated decisions about what is moral and acceptable, knowing the consequences of their choices. Instead we ban dangdut singers but allow for belly dancers to gyrate in public.

If we are to ban singers from jumping and making sure they cover up on stage, we should have been banned from watching women’s beach volleyball teams frolicking on the beach in skimpy outfits. Artists according to Malaysia’s rules are not supposed to jump or shout and neither can their clothes have drug-related images or messages on them. I wonder then how ballet dancers in tutus are allowed on stage?

Before we shoot off our mouths about what is decent, let us first become consistent, then perhaps our rules and regulations won’t be mere ammunition to the mockery we have become.

Natalie believes that everything is permissible but not everything is beneficial.

Comments: letters@thesundaily.com

Have We Lost The Plot?

Natalie Shobana Ambrose (21 August, 2008 - theSun)

I HAVE been glued to the TV watching the Olympics. It’s been an exciting time, with world records falling almost every day. What I find fascinating though besides the competition, is the medal ceremony as it triggers random bits of information about the winner’s country.

For example, when I think of China, I think about that little girl who wasn’t “cute enough” for her voice. It must really bug me. Each time Michael Phelps stepped onto the podium, I thought of the Obama-McCain campaigns, the war in Iraq and how multicultural America really is. Australia – great BBQs and humble apologies to its Aboriginals, Italy – pasta, Cuba – cigars …

So what crossed the minds of the rest of the world when Malaysia’s flag was raised? Was it the variety of our food? The beaches? Shopping malls? Our melting pot of cultures? Or, our sad state of affairs?

Of late, the general feeling is that we have lost the plot. After 50 years of independence, we seem to have taken giant leaps backwards – in maturity, in economic and political integration, in social inclusion and in making all citizens feel that they “belong”.

Merdeka and patriotism are not just about putting up mini flags on our cars and raising the Jalur Gemilang in our homes and offices. These are just outward actions. Visible things, not manifestations of what we should be celebrating. A sense of pride – in our achievements, in our rich and vibrant past, in our future, in our principles, in our great desire to protect and preserve our nation’s character.

Instead of focusing on what’s important, we are more concerned about by-elections! Not whatmatters most to our people – peace, security, justice, equity, due process, good governance, accountability, transparency … the list goes on.

We need to always keep the vision alive. And, constantly ask ourselves if the heroes of our country’s history who fought for our nation to be a just and equal society, would be proud of what we have actually become?

It’s about being a people of quality, a thinking nation. We were once the leader among emerging nations, in every way, the crown jewel of the developing world. But we seem to have lost our way. Politics has become a circus because of the politicking that has reached Zimbabwean proportions. Every time our politicians trade the truth, we, as a people and as a nation, lose more than we gain. And, in net terms, it is the future of Malaysia that loses.

We shouldn’t compare ourselves with anyone, but we all compare, have been compared, or get compared with at some point in our lives … if not constantly. So, who is Malaysia comparing itself with? Switzerland? Or the happiest country in the world Denmark? Or, should we be comparing ourselves with countries in lesser positions than us on the international baro-meter for overall performance?

Saying it like it is results in threats and intimidation, generating fear against being vocal. Admittedly of late there has been a lot of negative talk about the state of our country. But is it not possible to love Malaysia and critique it at the same time? Quite like parents who know when to discipline. Maybe the reason there are more critics than ever within our country is that each person who casts a stone truly loves Malaysia and wants us to be better.

But throwing stones alone never did anyone any good. As we celebrate 51 years of independence, let us remember that it came about as a result of inter-dependence. And when we ask questions, let us start by asking the hard ones – like why we cannot welcome – nay, embrace competition. Why we cannot strive to rise above the present depressing state of affairs.

Perhaps in the coming year, we will be a more mature nation, have better healthcare and improved public transport, become better stewards of our environment … and fight for our country, not just our own race.

Perhaps the 52nd year would allow for more equality, discourse and fairness. And when our flag is next raised in the world arena, we may be remembered for our integrity, compassion and equality … among many other good things.

Natalie hopes that revival and the restoration of trust are part of the plot.

Comments: letters@thesundaily.com.

When Reel Life Comes To Life

Natalie Shobana Ambrose (7 August, 2008- theSun)

GROWING up, my TV time used to be monitored. On top of the unkind cuts of the censorship board, my mother would outlaw many programmes, just so we would not be tempted to imitate the on-screen behaviour of the actors and their often exaggerated roles.

This got me thinking – does TV make real life so outrageously boring that we are compelled to ape it?

I grew up diligently watching LA Law with the family – totally intrigued with the happenings of law firms and court rooms – the power struggles, the personal lives of the characters involved … everything. All of it fascinated me.

I then graduated to Alley McBeal, Law & Order, The Practice and the more recent Boston Legal. Were lawyers really that insane? And were judges that wacky? I wondered.

If you caught an episode of Boston Legal, you might come to the conclusion that anything and everything could happen in the courtrooms of America. I was sure it was very different from what little I knew of Malaysian lawyers and courtroom dramas. I could never imagine Boston Legal with a hint of Alley McBeal in the High Courts of our land – until some transcripts were made public earlier this year and t-shirts of who was on the phone with whom started becoming popular.

And who can forget the three famous comedic words “Correct, Correct, Correct!” that were plastered on the front pages of most newspapers.

There I was thinking that Malaysian lawyers were stern, strict, calm, composed and dry, because that was how they were expected to behave in court, when in reality, it was quite the opposite – almost slapstick!

Another favourite programme I enjoy is the Crime Scene Investigation trinity.

Personally, I would put some of the script writers under psychological observation in a sanatorium for the outrageously troubling storylines, but that is a whole other article on its own.
But I would say kudos to the CSI teams for their almost perfect score in solving cases – even only after a lot of brushing, beaker-swishing, DNA samples and sticky paper finger printing.

Now if only our own CSI unit had an equally large fan base to boast, maybe justice would be served and some of the recent unsolved heinous crimes involving wives, second wives, mistresses, mattresses and such, especially those involving little children, might have been solved sooner and more efficiently. Maybe not within the hour, but at least there would be hope that such unimaginable crimes would be solved – even those involving disappearing private investigators!

The latest treat on TV, I must say, has been Pushing Daisies. For the benefit of those who have not watched the “dramedy” as it is categorised, the plot revolves around Ned, a pie-maker who in simple terms, has the power to bring people back to life just by touching them. Quite like ET – only human.

The series, thus far, always takes Ned to the mortuary where he resurrects the dead – even those who look ghostly and ghastly. And, voila! Within 60 seconds he finds out the WHs of their story – thus solving the mystery.

Now, this got me thinking, again. Imagine if reel life came to life, and Ned could solve all those murder mysteries that seem to pile up in the banks of Malaysian life – which in years to come would become veritable folktales.

How would Ned fare if one day he was to encounter a beauty bombed to pieces? Would he be able to do right by her, protecting, avenging and bringing relief to the sanctity of her life and end up incarcerating the monster(s) who viciously detonated her? Or would the many bone fragments get in the way that even poor Ned would be totally confused and blown out of his mind?

Ahhh! if only television wasn’t filled with such fantasy, then perhaps, a lot of what happens in the world today might be solved and resolved.

Then again, maybe real life imitates the idiot box and we, as society and as individuals pay the price of the subscription. Or, maybe … pay the price of being idiots!

Natalie does live in reality, but sometimes thinks her life is a hotchpotch of West Wing, Brothers & Sisters and The Devil Wears Prada – sadly without the fantastic designer wardrobe.

Comments: letters@thesundaily.com.

Can someone help me please?

Natalie Shobana Ambrose May 30, 08 11:57am (Malaysiakini)

I witnessed a car-jacking, few days ago. At a T-junction a kilometre from my home. And the victim was slashed.

On a busy road, he was left to bleed by his tormentors. A casual drive turned into a nightmare relived in perpetuity. He lost his car, wallet, phone, house keys and the life he knew. In an interlude he was left with an amplified prejudice of people.

It looked like a scene out of a movie. As the suspects sped off with the victim’s car- so did the witnesses. The insane reality that no one came to his rescue hit me real hard. It pointed to what the ‘real Malaysia’ is like. Or, has become.

Contrary to what we tell ourselves about the beautiful, friendly Malaysia we live in, the reality is that when people cry for help, we turn and walk the other way. We are a culture of people who stare and do nothing. The ‘jangan jaga tepi kain orang lain’ concept is dominant. Mind your own business and pretend not to see other people’s troubles.

However, you are allowed to note the registration number of the vehicle- to go and buy the three or four digit lottery tickets afterwards?

Some call it ‘Bystander Apathy’, I call it the ‘Ugly Malaysian Syndrome’. It’s the thinking that says, it’s okay - because someone else will help the victim.

But what if someone doesn’t? One day the victim might be you…and what then?
Prosperity means that your citizens feel safe in the country. Otherwise we as a nation are just a white-washed sepulchre.

The right to personal safety and security are fundamental human needs. They are the basis of Maslow’s Theory of Needs. I have always assumed my safety. Safe because all these horrible things we read in the newspapers happen elsewhere. Now they happened a km from home-the place I’ve lived all my life!

A couple of months ago, my aunty and her grandson were accosted while they were on their daily evening walk. Instinct made her run into another residence when seeing two men on a motorcycle speeding at her. Wielding a parang they feared not and rode into the compound and forced a gold chain off her.

‘Tidak apa’ attitude

An hour later she spots them drinking in the same coffee shop she goes to. Today she cynically jokes about having funded their whiskey habits for a day. What to do? Report it to the authorities? Or would you just buy a treadmill and walk in the air-conditioned comfort of your living-room?

When I related the incident to the police, they had the ‘tidak apa’ attitude. Every Malaysian (local and foreign) I’ve talked to had the same view, ‘So typical- lah. It’s the Malaysian police’.
I’ve heard horror stories of how the police are so lackadaisical in this most basic of their duties that, when a snatch theft is reported, the victim only does so for insurance purposes. Notions of police assistance are quickly dismissed.

How can officers tell me with wanton disregard, ‘These things happen- lah you know’. So much for ‘Bersih, Cekap dan Amanah’ and now ‘Firm, Fair and Courteous’.
Of course it’s very easy for me to point fingers in condemnation. After all the paralysis one feels upon seeing a long shiny sharp weapon and the power it bears is real.
But what can we do to make our country safe?

When I was younger, I walked down the very road where the car-jacking victim’s blood was shed. I never had to think if I was safe because I felt safe.

Last week, talking to the inspector in-charge made me feel like packing up and moving. He didn’t seem bothered. It’s been nearly a week now and he hasn’t even visited the scene of the crime.

In many countries, when a person dons a police uniform, it is not a job under oath. It is a lifestyle of integrity, honour, respect and selflessness. A tall order but a proud one.

More often than not I see police cars breaking traffic rules and police officers breaking the very rules they are bound to enforce - and abusing the power that is vested in them.

How are we to respect our police force when they themselves are not good examples? How can we trust our police force when they are the very people who abuse their power? How can we feel safe when the police, themselves, bully citizens?

I’m trying to make sense of this all. I don’t want to be crippled by fear and maybe I need to put the blame on someone.

Real priorities

Fighting crime should be our main priority. Is it too much to ask that the police actually do something to reduce crime? They are no more isolated incidences. They have become rampant.
Let’s stop with writing detailed reports on causal factors and reasons as to why crime is rampant. Instead, let us do something about it. Give the cops the training, tools and the funds they need - and then, make sure they do what they are supposed to be doing.

The media has been blamed many times for over sensationalising crime in Malaysia but really, think of the number of first-hand stories of snatch thefts, home robberies and other crimes that go unreported.

It has been a few days since the victim’s bloodstains have been removed from my car seats and I’ve kept my driving to an absolute minimum. Maybe I shouldn’t voice out my discontent to the very people who are paid to keep me safe. But what I do know though is that I need to be safe and feel safe where I live.

A few days ago a man was brutally savaged near my home.

NATALIE SHOBANA AMBROSE is a writer, dancer, sociologist, care-giver, pianist, memories curator and concerned Malaysian in the midst of finishing her thesis in Strategy and Defence Studies at the Universiti Malaya.

What was I sent here for?

Natalie Shobana Ambrose April 3, 2008 (Malaysiakini)

Persian poet Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi (fondly know as Rumi) wrote, “The human being therefore has come into the world for a specific purpose and aim. If one does not fulfil that purpose, one has done nothing.

When I was younger I remember wishing so hard that I wasn’t Indian. Many times I’d ask my mother if I looked like I was of mixed parentage - my mother’s straight to the point answer ‘Of course you look Indian. What else would you look like? Both your parents are Indian. ‘

Much to my disappointment, without a shadow of doubt – I was Indian. My attempts to not stand in the sun didn’t help me on the fairness graph either.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like the way I looked or my inherited ability to roll my ‘r’s’. I just didn’t want to be Indian because of the stigma of being Indian.

To me, being Indian meant that we were not the brightest lot, we were poor, didn’t have much of a future and enjoyed fraternizing around coconut trees singing songs to our heart’s content.

But that wasn’t me. I refused to be defined by society’s perception of Indians.

No matter how hard I tried not to be Indian, I was derogatorily called Tangachi (literally, little sister, but often denoting, cutie or ah-moi) and would be teased by students of other races attempting to speak Tamil (something only fellow Indians would understand).

I grew up not seeing Indians on TV unless on the news, - usually at a crime scene - and I grew up listening to radio adverts mocking the Indian accent. Surrounded by all these observations, who in their right mind would want to be Indian?

Anything but Indian I pleaded. Anything! It must have been quite an amusing sight but an even more common sight in today’s Malaysia.

I’ve grown up since then, and fully embrace my Indian heritage. But what about society?

Of course the likes of Aishwarya Rai and Shilpa Shetty, the glamorization of Bollywood moves and movies has helped in the acceptance of being Indian. But what does it mean to be a Malaysian Indian?

Always #3

Am I, Malaysian first and Indian second? Or am I, Indian first and Malaysian second?
The reality of living in Malaysia means that we are defined by race. Every application form we fill subjects us to define ourselves by race and the Indian box is always at its highest position at number 3.

It didn’t matter that my parents raised their children to believe that we could be anything we wanted to if we really wanted to, because society dictated otherwise and the law makes sure we remember our ’standing’ in the country. Always #3, nothing more.

I remember clearly being defined by race from a very young age. I remember while in primary school, my class teacher (who I thought was a very nice Malay lady) told the whole class that I looked like her maid.

Not a very clued-in child, I thought, well her maid must be very pretty. Little did I realise what had just happened. Of course, when I got home and spoke of my day to my mother this compliment turned into the bitter reality of class-fuelled racism. I had been indirectly told I was #3 in the scheme of things!

I never understood what I had done for someone whom I respected – and my teacher of all people - to treat me in such a manner.

In a perfect world, we would not see colour, but the reality is we do see colour and we interpret and place judgments - good or bad based on our biases, socialization and upbringing.

Maybe if we acknowledged that racism does exist in us, we might be better able to address it. It is a bit of a radical idea in harmonious unified Malaysia, but we all are biased to a certain extent. It’s just that some people are able to conceal it better than others - but it that doesn’t mean it doesn’t’ exist.

I’m not advocating racism, in fact the opposite. I’m looking for a solution. The first step to any recovery is acknowledging the problem, - if not what are we trying to fix?

We may have different likes and beliefs - but when does a preference become racism?

I believe it is when a sales person refuses to let you try on a dress because he thinks you can’t afford it. It is when a quota system limits you to the right of an education of your choice. Or when a job advertisement specifies what race, age and gender you should be before you can even apply.

It is when scholarships are limited by race and not test scores, it is when you have to pay more for the same house your neighbour has - on top of paying for your child’s education because there weren’t spaces left for your race in the public tertiary education system.

How then are we to love our neighbours?

When life is defined and limited to race, problems arise. When people are suppressed, repressed, bullied and forced to be voiceless a country suffers.

For today, we, as a nation may look well, but will Malaysia have a multicultural society to brag about in twenty years to come or would we have to scour foreign lands for sightings of Malaysians?


Tolerating one another

As a nation, our greatest asset is the fact that we are a multicultural people, and as the travel brochures would say ‘living in harmony with one another’. Or, as the Tourism Malaysia ad says, Malaysia – Truly Asia!

Somehow it has become a song we sing rather than a reality we practice. In many ways, it should read Tolerating One Another. After all that is what we do best - tolerate.

The very word advocates hatred. We should not have to put up with each other, rather we should embrace one another and strive to understand each other better …. not looking at race or religion.

The only way to do this is to spend time with each other instead of allowing our prejudice to distance us from one another.

It sounds very much like my moral classes back in the day. Maybe we should all hold hands and sing Kum-Ba-Yah or Rasa Sayang and sit around a bonfire and magically we will be transformed.

A huge part of me wishes I hadn’t spent all those years trying so hard not to be Indian. But an even bigger part of me hopes that young Indian children don’t feel like they have to apologize for being an Indian in Malaysia - for this is the only country they can call home.

Have migration enquiries to other countries increased in the last six months? I don’t think we need statistics to confirm it.

As a young Indian living in Malaysia, why wouldn’t I embrace a country that allows me to be the best I can be without penalizing me for my race?

As I ponder on Rumi’s words, I wonder to myself, will Malaysia allow me to fulfil my purpose or will I stay and achieve nothing!


NATALIE SHOBANA AMBROSE is a writer, dancer, sociologist, care-giver, pianist, memories curator and concerned Malaysian in the midst of finishing her thesis in Strategy and Defence Studies at the Universiti Malaya.

Punish Eve-teasers

Natalie Shobana Ambrose March 23, 2008 (The Sunday Star)

WHEN I think about “progressive” Malaysia, I also wonder as a people how have we progressed? Personally, I am proud that we have an F1 circuit, gone to space and the North Pole, work in state-of-the-art buildings, all contributing points to the development of our nation.

But as we take huge leaps forward, I can’t help but wonder how far behind we are when it comes to respect - the respect of women - regardless of their age, race, education, background and standing in society.

I was recently in India and I repeatedly came across the phrase “No Eve-teasing” – an Indian euphemism that encompasses everything from sexual harassment, cat-calls, whispered obscenities, groping, brushing and pestering.

To some, this is not a positive introduction to the nation, but I thought that it was a huge step in acknowledging the need to educate the men in the country and foreigners alike.

Like in Malaysia, Eve-teasing was a common pastime among the men folk of that country. There have been many incidents in India, just like in Malaysia, where women are degraded and teased, raped, and molested.

But the difference is that in India, Eve-teasing is recognised as a criminal activity punishable under the law. As we brag of being a progressive nation, shedding the cloth of the second world, do we have such laws to protect our women?

One evening when it was dark, I briskly walked the streets of Chennai with two other Malaysian women to look for a tailor. I clutched my handbag so tightly and made no eye contact with people on the streets, something that is so ingrained in me when I’m back home in Malaysia.

Of course I’d never walk the streets of Kuala Lumpur at night in search of a tailor. That’ll just be “asking for it,” I’ve been told. But what I realised after walking a few blocks was that there was a sense of peace.

People weren’t ogling and staring.

They didn’t blink an eye and there was not a single catcall or whistle. It felt weird. But why should I have felt that way?

Have I gotten so used to being insulted in my own country and that it has become the norm?
In another incident whilst in India, on New Year’s eve two women who were accompanied by male partners were taunted and molested outside a nightclub by a group of rowdy men on the streets of Mumbai.

The women didn’t file a complaint. But the next day photos of the incident and perpetrators were splashed on the front page of newspapers and on TV, followed by a public outcry and the perpetrators were caught.

Would any man dare Eve-tease with consequences like that?

In many ways, India might not be as developed as Malaysia but there are definitely lessons we can learn from them.

Some may think I’m making a fuss over something that we don’t talk about because it is so much a part of our culture. But it is not just about being teased.

The act itself is a stripping of my dignity; it is being made to feel like a piece of meat in a lion’s den, it is the lack of respect, a violation of my basic human rights.

The deliberate brush or push in the LRT, the catcalls and honking of horns is power play – a deliberate act to show superiority.

As the perpetrator is almost never met with a defence, he continues for there is no fear of reciprocation as the victim being humiliated has to pretend that she is not affected even though she is raging inside.

NATALIE SHOBANA AMBROSE,Kuala Lumpur.

Voting: Elderly Marginalised

Natalie Shobana Ambrose Mar 17, 08 4:22pm (Malaysiakini)

After 50 years of independence and 11 general elections, I was hoping that this year my grandma would be able to cast her vote without a fuss even though she uses a walker. At 89 years old, walking up the narrow staircase of a school building is probably as difficult as climbing Mount Everest at the age of 25.

At the last elections (2004), my grandmother was told that the room she had to vote in was upstairs. As it is her right to vote, she climbed those stairs with the help of her son. This year, I volunteered to take her in the hopes that maybe the powers-that-be would have wisened up and allocated a room on the ground floor with easy access for the disabled and elderly.

When we reached her polling station on Saturday, we waited an hour for a wheelchair but none came. After asking for help, they managed to change her voting room to the another room claiming that the one allocated upstairs was an oversight.

But then there was another problem. They had made another mistake - from giving her room which was upstairs, to giving her room a which was further away and in an elevated classroom with steps. No ramp, no help- just a loud mouth SPR representative and his assistants watching and twisting stories to a TV3 crew of why my grandma was still waiting to vote.

As we were leaving, one of these assistants asked if grandma has voted and I said yes and I continued to tell him that the last time she had to walk upstairs, this time after one and a half hours she’d been pushed between three rooms to vote at and finally the voting room was the furthest possible and without a ramp. His response? ‘We’ll note this for the next elections.’ My response? ‘What did you learn from the last election?’

I wanted to continue with the ‘If she was your grandmother….’ but decided it would be wasted breath. This is most likely the last time she will cast her vote after having done so 12 times.

Maybe it sounds very personal. After all it’s just one vote. I’d like to think that her vote makes a difference. She’s at an age where she doesn’t vote for herself - she voted for the future her great-grandchildren will inherit.

The radio advertisement said that it is our right to vote but how can we if there are so many obstacles? Fifty years since independence, 11 runs at general elections and we still can’t seem to get it right.