People Vs People - Part One
by
Suresh Ramskay
A Journal
For My Children
30 April 2016
This is my first entry. I’m not sure
what I should write about. My wife wants me to write a diary because she thinks
it would be a good way for me to occupy my free time. I told her I’d write a journal
because a diary is something women write. Perhaps this journal will serve my
children and their children. Perhaps it will be their guide to the past. I
don’t know. Perhaps.
2 May 2016
We finally decided to go into the
neighbour’s house. It had been quiet for too long. Of course, we knocked before
entering. The house was empty, so we were disappointed. I’m not sure when they
left or where they are now, but they should have told us. We used to be good
friends. My wife even bought their newborn a 300 Ringgit stroller when they had
their first child six years ago. We couldn’t find anything that we could use to
eat or cook. We did find a working computer in the middle of the living room, but
my wife was against taking it. “What if they came back and found it in our
house?” she asked. “How would you explain that to them?” she asked again. My
13-year-old son, while searching the house, fell down a flight of stairs and
broke a tooth and sprayned sprained his ankle. But he also found two
cans of Pepsi hidden under the kitchen cabinet. So, he’s really happy and
excited and isn't really bothered about his injuries. I let him have one can
while I shared the other one with my wife. We savored each drop. I realize now
how we used to take a lot of things for granted.
4 May 2016
We don’t need much. Three kilograms of
rice and four cans of sardines per week is enough to keep us from starving.
Besides, that is all that we’re going to get from the Perbadanan Keselamatan
Dan Keamanan – PKK. The PKK was
previously known as PKKR – Perbadanan Keselamatan dan Keamanan Rakyat – but
they later decided to remove the word Rakyat as the acronym reminded the people
of a political party (just one of many) that started the civil war. It was a
decision to enhance their public relations. We get our supplies on a weekly
basis. Around ten to fifteen helicopters fly into the island of Penang every
Thursday evening and drop off almost 50 large steel crates filled with food,
water and medical aid at the Pusat Kawalan dan Pembahagian, formerly The
Botanical Gardens. The PKK forbad its officers – known as Pengawal – from
entering the island via the Penang Bridge or ferries due to the fear of being
attacked, robbed and killed (in that order) by people the PKK labels as The
Unregistered (Yang Tidak Berdaftar). The Unregistered are basically groups of
savage fanatics and rebels. The rebels are mainly made up of two groups – Pertahanan
Maruah Malaysia (PERMAMA) and Parti Rukun Negara (PRN) – though there are many smaller,
less-known groups forming around the country like mushrooms. The fanatics are
divided into two as well: The Muslims and The Hindus. The Unregistered are
everywhere, but they’re very good at being invisible. Most of them live in
secluded areas while others live among The Registered and keep their true
identities or motive a secret. It is very difficult to tell who is a registered
member of PKK and who isn’t because The Registered carry no physical proof of
their membership. Many have suggested that members of PKK carry a card, similar
to a MYKad (which is a form of identification in Malaysia and its usage was
suspended in 2014) but PKK’s top brass rejected the idea as cards could easily
be forged and the person holding it could be a victim of identity theft. The
PKK promised its people that it would find a better and more secure method of
identification. The PERMAMA, however, demanded that the PKK rejected completely
the idea of carrying any kind of identification and to promise the Malaysian
people absolute civil liberty and a country free of racial discrimination.
PKK’s Vice President, P. Waytha Moorthy (of the defunct HINDRAF) responded by
saying, “The Perbadanan Keselamatan dan Keamanan is always striving for a
peaceful and just country and we support and welcome all efforts to build a
‘Rakyat’s Nation’. However, the demand for absolute freedom is ridiculous and
silly and will not even be considered as the repercussions will be devastating.”
5 May 2016
I miss my daughter very much. She was a
very beautiful young lady and I wish she was here with me so that I can tell
her how beautiful she is. I’m angry for not being there when she needed me. I’m
angry for not being able to decapitate the men who ravaged and murdered her and
hang their heads outside my home for everyone to see their faces. But I’m tired
of being angry. I’m just
6 May 2016
I went to the Pusat Kawalan dan
Pembahagian today to get our supplies. As usual, I carried with myself a parang,
a backpack and a bottle of water. It was a long walk. Like every other Friday
morning, I walked in a group. Moving in a group meant safer travelling. The
Unregistered would think twice before attacking us, though it wasn’t always a
guarantee as sometimes they would outnumber us by a couple of dozens. I have
been ambushed six times by The Unregistered, and I barely escaped those six
times. Many others haven’t been so lucky. Every Friday, on my long walk to the
Pusat, I get to see bloody bodies of men on the streets, some without limbs,
some without heads and some without genitals. Occasionally, we get to see the
naked dead body of a woman. These unlucky women are usually single mothers who
have no one else to collect their supplies for them. They were murdered and
raped (in that order) and left clothless for everyone to see. The horrible
things they do to these women. I am not ashamed to say that I once cried when I
saw a dead woman’s body in a drain with a steel rod wrapped with barbed wire
inserted into her vagina. I looked at her face and I knew she had children.
I thought about them and I cried. A man, who was walking with me during the
time, suggested that it was the work of a fanatic. “Mesti Hindu pariah yang
buat ni!” I could not disagree. The men who did it removed all her clothes but
left the purple tudung on her head. It was their sick way of sending a message.
My wife says I should thank God that I’m still alive. I’d rather thank my fast
legs and my sharp parang. Those who are lucky enough to still have a car or a motorcycle
may thank God. And it is nearly impossible to get any of them to give you a
ride. I don’t blame them. I’d probably avoid hitchhikers as well. The Pengawals
would often try to clear the bodies and blood off the streets, but sometimes
you can tell that they’re just not bothered. “Ini memang kerja cibai,” a
Pengawal told me once. “Tapi apa nak buat? Nak hidup selamat, nak hidup selesa,
kena kerja dengan PKK lah.” He also suggested that I apply for a job with the
PKK. I did many months ago, but I have not received an offer yet. Basically, a
person applying for a job with the PKK is applying to be a Pengawal. There are
five different Pengawal levels. Level 5 Pengawals are also known as The
Cleaners. They clean up the mess on the streets The Unregistered leave behind.
The blood stains, bodies, internal organs, burning cars and of course the
occasional plastic bags and food wrappers. Level 4 Pengawals – The Guards – are
the ones that maintain law and order in the country. These men and women are
mostly made up of ex-police officers and soldiers. Level 3 and Level 2
Pengawals are paper pushers. Level 1 Pengawals are the bureaucrats. I applied
for a Level 2 or 3 position and I think I’m more than qualified for the job as
I was a hotel manager for more than ten years before the war. However, if they
offered me a Level 5 job, I don’t think I’d complain. Beggars can’t be
choosers, right? PKK staffs aren’t paid much, but they get to live better lives
than the rest of us. A secure home in Taman Damai, good and cheap food, around
the clock medical services and most importantly, free education for their
children. I reached the Pusat at around 11 in the morning. When I got there,
the place was already packed. Everyone was lining up at their respective
blocks, waiting for their turn to collect their supplies. There are a total of
12 blocks at the Pusat – Blocks January to December. Those who were born in the
month of January get their supplies in Block January, those who were born in
February get their supplies in Block February, and so on. I get my supplies in
Block April, so I walked to the all-white block next to the little waterfall. I
couldn’t get in as it was full inside. The Pengawals only let 150 people in at
one time. I saw the crowd and realized that I was going to be there for another
five to six hours. I should have woken up earlier. Sometimes, I find it funny
and it’s hard not to smile, when I look at all the people here, waiting quietly
for hours for their turn. I still remember trying to see the doctor or trying
to get my medicine at the government hospital way back when, before the war.
You could see people screaming, yelling, shouting out profanities at nurses,
doctors, even the cleaners, for making them wait longer than they think they
should. No one gets away with that kind of behavior today, especially here. Any
sort of disobedience or disruptive behavior would be dealt with severely. First
time offenders would have their supplies withheld for one month. Second time
offenders would go directly to jail (do not pass GO, do not collect $200).
There won’t be third time offenders. Never have been. When PKK founder and
president, Khairy Jamaluddin, announced a year ago that those who registered
with the PKK would be provided with free food and medical supplies, everyone in
Penang flocked to Komtar (this building was bombed and destroyed by the rebels two
months ago. It was the tallest building in Penang for 30 years) to get
themselves registered. Only The Registered would receive the free supplies. The
Unregistered, which made up almost 30 percent of Penang’s population, would get
nothing. Of course, nothing in life comes free. Registration with the PKK would
also mean absolute allegiance to the Perbadanan Keselamatan dan Keamanan. If a
registered member of the PKK fails to perform any duty or service asked, he or
she may be imprisoned. When my turn came to collect the supply, I asked the
officer about my job application. She asked around but no one seemed to know
anything about it. They just told me to wait and suggested that it could be a
long wait as the number of job applicants is reaching the thousands. “Eh, apa
nama anak perempuan awak?” the officer asked just as I was about to leave with
my supply. I told them her name. She opened up a few files, went through some
papers, checked her computer and looked at me. She was frowning so hard, I
thought her face was going to explode. “Dia dah mati kan?” she asked. I nodded.
I knew where this was leading to. My heart beat was rising and my hands started
to shake. “Kenapa awak tak laporkan kematian dia?” the officer questioned me.
“Saya lupa,” I said. It was the dumbest answer I could have given. She sent me
to her superior, a bearded Chinese man. It was something I had not seen for a
long time: a Chinese man with facial hair. “Encik sedar tak apa kesalahan
encik?” he asked me politely. I was standing in front of him while he was
seated. There was an empty chair, but he did not ask me to sit, so I didn’t. I
nodded to answer his question. “Rumah encik ada tiga orang saja. Tapi selama
ini encik telah ambil makanan dan ubat-ubatan untuk empat orang,” said the
Chinese man. “Saya minta maaf, tuan. Saya tak sengaja,” I apologized. “Puki mak
hang tak sengaja!” he suddenly yelled. “Cibai,” he added. He looked at me as if
I was the person he hated the most in this world. It was as if I was the most
disgusting man he had ever met. “Ini kes menipu, tahu tak?” he said. “Hang dah
tipu Perbadanan. Puki mak betul,” he continued. “Nak masuk penjara kah?” “Tapi
tuan, ini baru kesalahan pertama saya,” I explained. He got up and walked
around me like the bad guy from a B-grade movie. “Oh, pandai betul awak. Jadi
awak tahu apa hukuman untuk kesalahan pertama?” he asked and I nodded again.
“Habis tu, satu bulan tak dapat bekalan, hang nak makan apa? Nak makan taik?”
“Tuan, tolong lah saya. Saya betul-betul tak sengaja. Saya janji saya tak buat
lagi. Saya ada anak dan isteri, tuan,” I begged. “Nak aku tolong macam mana?
Cakap lah,” he said. I looked at him for a moment, and then looked around his
office. There was no one else except for the two of us. He was getting
impatient. “Apa tengok-tengok? Cepat cakap. Hang nak aku tolong hang, bukan?
Macam mana aku nak tolong hang?” I thought about something for a moment. I
don’t quite remember what that something was but seconds later, I reached for
the wallet in my pocket and pulled it out, and from the wallet I took out an
old 5 Ringgit note. “Ini saja yang saya ada, tuan,” I told him as I placed the
money on his table. “Lancau! Ei! Hang jangan buang masa aku lah! Puki mak!
Keluar!” he shouted. He then turned to his desktop and said, “Bekalan makanan,
minuman dan ubat-ubatan encik akan ditahan untuk satu bulan sebagai hukuman
kerana menipu Perbadanan. Encik faham?” the Chinese man asked. His sudden
change of tone and choice of words made me a little dizzy for a second. “Encik
faham tak apa yang saya baru cakapkan tadi?” he asked again. The thought of not
being able to provide my wife and son with food made me cringe. I remained
silent, trying to think of something to say. Something that would change his
mind. The man pushed a piece of document towards me and said, “Tulis nama,
tarikh lahir dan nombor pendaftaran encik. Kemudian tandatangan di bawah.” I
didn’t move a muscle. I couldn’t write down my name and sign the paper. My
family would suffer. We could die. The man looked at me and let out a big sigh.
He then smiled and said, “Macam ni lah. Tulis alamat encik sahaja. Malam nanti,
lebih kurang jam 11, saya akan melawat rumah encik. Pastikan tiada siapa di
situ kecuali isteri encik. Bila saya dah selesai nanti, encik boleh dapatkan
bekalan encik seminggu sekali seperti biasa. Dan saya akan pastikan nama encik
tiada di dalam rekod pesalah pertama kami.” What he said to me didn’t make
angry, instead I was shocked. I was even doubtful at first. “Did he say what I
think he said?” I thought to myself. “Macam mana? Encik setuju dengan
perjanjian ini?” I should have punched him in the face for making an indecent
proposal like that. At least a ‘Fuck you lah, bastard!’ to his hairy face would
have been satisfying. But I just shook my head and said, “Tak.” So, I had to
write down my name and sign the paper. My family’s supply of food and
medication is suspended for one month. My wife broke down in tears when I told
her about what had happened at the Pusat. She yelled at me. I think she even
used a cuss word. She was (probably still is) furious because I did not report
our daughter’s death to the PKK. She had told me to, many months ago. Of
course, it was for a different reason. She was hoping the PKK would hunt down her
murderers and bring them to justice. And I didn’t do it because law and order
in this country is dead. It would have been pointless. So, I figured we could
sell off our extra supplies to anyone who needed it to make a few Ringgit. My
father used to tell me, “Never lie. Never cheat. Never steal.” I’m sorry for
not listening to you, papa.
10 May 2016
The cash box we hid under our son’s bed
is almost empty. I checked this morning and there was only 12 Ringgit and 45
Cents left. My wife woke me up at 4 in the morning and said that the remaining
rice in the kitchen would last for one more day. And the sardine was enough for
one more person. I told her that we could not afford to use up the money this
soon. It has, after all, been only 4 days. After a long discussion and plenty
of tears (which came from my wife’s eyes) we decided to save the rice for
tomorrow and let our son have the sardine for lunch and dinner today. That
decision also meant that my wife and I had to starve today. It wouldn’t be our
first time, though. To keep our minds off the thought of food, my wife sat down
on the floor (we have sofas but her buttocks prefer cement) and wrote in her
diary while I sat on the bed with my son and read The Quran. I found it a
couple of months ago while scavenging in an abandoned supermarket. The cover of
the book, which is a hardcover, is beautiful. It is maroon in colour with some
gold embossing. It also has a rough texture. The Quran that I found was in
Bahasa Malaysia and also in its original Arabic language. I have been reading
The Quran almost every day with my son since finding it. There is nothing
better to do anyway. Television is something we try to avoid as we only get TV1
and I think we’ve pretty much had enough of watching repeats of the local
documentaries and talk shows from ten years ago showcasing the greats this
country has (or had) to offer: great food, great people, great leaders, great
cars, great rivers, great rainforests; a great form of indoctrination (religion
is the best form of indoctrination). Of course, I am spending time with
this journal these days, but reading The Quran seems like time better spent as
my son and I get to chat. He likes to ask a lot of questions regarding the
content of the book and I try my best to answer them all. I don’t know if all
my answers are correct, but my son seems satisfied with them. My wife, as
usual, did not approve of me bringing The Quran home. “If we cannot eat it, don’t
bring it home,” she said. I can understand her sentiment. Scavenging is
something that I rarely do because it is dangerous. One, I am prone to being a
victim of The Unregistered. Two, I might come across another scavenger. And
both of us might come across a limited supply of food. If one of us decides to
back off or both of us decide to share, then it’s a fairy tale and everyone
goes home and lives happily ever after. If neither happens, then it’s literally
a fight to the death for even something as meager as a bag of Mister Potato. I’ve
only scavenged twice. The first time, I had to fist fight another scavenger
when we both stumbled upon a box of instant noodles. I was more than willing to
share, but the other guy wouldn’t even consider it. We shoved one another,
punched and slapped each other’s face but mostly just rolled on the ground on
top of one another trying to get some sort of fulfillment from the embarrassing
atrocity that was supposed to be a brawl. In the end, I got whacked in the head
with a piece of wood and he took off with the box. The second time (when I
found the Quran), I managed to walk all the way to Gurney Plaza. There, I was
confronted by a group of fanatics and when they found out that I wasn’t one of
them, I was, simply put, prepared to die. Fortunately, a few Guards who were
patrolling the area came in the nick of time and saved my life. So, my wife
isn’t happy with me bringing home things that aren’t edible because (a) I’m
wasting precious space in my backpack which should be carrying food; (b) I’m
being distracted by something that’s not going to feed us; and (c) Coming home
empty handed or with scarce supply means that I will have to go out scavenging
again. And that means higher the chances of being killed. I love my wife
because she loves me. And my wife loves me because I put food on the table. I
can’t put food on the table if I’m dead. That’s how it works.
11 May 2016
This morning, I woke up before the sun
got out because I needed to do something important. I needed to use the
Internet and the nearest place with a working computer was my neighbour’s
abandoned house. My wife would nag me to death if she found out that I used the
neighbour’s computer, so I sneaked out of our house and into the house next
door while she was still sleeping. I was tempted to bring along my son as I
know how much he enjoys these kinds of little adventures. But I also know that
he will not shut up about them and my wife will eventually find out. I was
impressed that the computer was in almost perfect condition. It was fast too, especially
the Internet, thanks to 4 All WiFi. Ever since PKK took over took
control, Khairy and his ministers have been trying hard to make sure that the
people of Malaysia receive news and updates regarding the Perbadanan and its
struggles to stabilize the country (also an effort to enhance their public
relations). There were only two ways for them to do so: 1) Television 2)
Internet. (All newspapers shut themselves down when the war started) I suppose
they got a hold of the rating their programs on TV1 received because they chose
to optimize the use of the Internet. What started in Penang by Lim Guan Eng, spread
throughout the country once PKK took office and Penang Free WiFi became 4 All
WiFi. Today, everyone in Malaysia enjoys free Internet. However, surfing the
net isn’t what it used to be. Sure, it’s fast. But before you get to visit your
favourite sites, you are required to spend a minimum of thirty minutes on PKK’s
official website. Actually, you don’t have a choice at all. The second you
enter a browser, the website appears and there is no escape from it for the
next half an hour. You can click (left or right) on the screen and hit the
delete button all you want (you may also resort to giving the computer the
finger), but www.pkk.com does not and will not
disappear. So, in the end, you are forced to read whatever news, updates or
articles they have on their website. When the mandatory thirty minutes is up,
you are free to do whatever you want to do (porn is also an option). But you
can only pray that you don’t accidentally close the browser you’re using
(believe me, it happens more often than you think) or else you’ve got yourself
a date with www.pkk.com for another half an
hour. Although it drives people crazy, you can’t help but give them credit for
being smart. But this morning, I wasn’t peeved at all because the PKK website
was exactly what I wanted. I needed to find out if there were ways I could push
my job application and also if first time offenders had any chance of getting a
job with PKK at all. But before I could get into any of that, I was distracted
by a black, Times New Roman, bolded headline of an article on the homepage
which read: ‘PKK dan PRN: Bersatu?’ No. The question mark is not mine. It was
in the actual headline. It seems that PKK is considering an alliance with Parti
Rukun Negara after Khairy had a private meeting a couple of weeks ago with the
president of PRN, Nurul Izzah Anwar (daughter of the late Anwar Ibrahim) at the
PRN headquarters in Seremban. Khairy has always been interested in joining
forces with PRN. He said in a speech once, “PKK dan PRN, walaupun jalan yang
diambil berbeza, mempunyai hala tuju yang sama. Saya juga percaya, pada
terasnya, PKK dan PRN berkongsi prinsip dan ideologi yang tiada bezanya dan
jikalau berganding bahu, Perbadanan Keselamatan dan Keamanan bersama-sama
dengan Parti Rukun Negara dapat membina dan membangunkan negara ini menjadi
sebuah negara yang maju, adil dan saksama. Negara Rakyat.” PKK is constantly
reaching out to the rebels, inviting them to get registered and join the
Perbadanan and PRN seems to be the only group responding positively. There was
another article regarding Mitt Romney, the President of The United States,
meeting with Tony Fernandes (The use of titles such as Tan Sri, Tun, Datuk, Dato' and
what not has been abolished by PKK. Ambiga Sreenevasan, Secretary-General of PKK - former head of the now non-operational BERSIH - and a former Dato' herself said, “These titles before
names are utterly stupid and serve no purpose besides giving its owner a
license to be a pompous donkey.”), Chief Financial Officer of PKK and CEO and
Director of the still successful AirAsia Berhad regarding the rebuilding of
Malaysia’s economy. I read one paragraph and moved on because it was boring and
poorly written (just like this journal). I finally got on to why I trespassed
into my neighbour’s property in the first place. I got all the necessary
information within fifteen minutes. Job applicants who used to be government
servants and/or with recommendation from a PKK officer (level 3 and above)
would have higher chances of getting a job; and offenders (first time or
second) can apply for a job as long as their crime does not fall under the
following categories: (i) murder (ii) sexual assault (iii) financial fraud (iv) bribery (v)
sedition. I am quite confused about the category of my crime. It’s fraud, I
know that much, but is it financial fraud? I hope not because I desperately
need the job. The future and security of my wife and son depend on it.
To be continued...
