by Sim Kwang Yang Oct 28, 06 12:03pm

LATELY, I have felt myself ageing fast.

For many years now, I have been made to feel aged. I have been called
"Uncle" in various languages by all manners of Malaysians wherever I went.
Malaysians would know that "Uncle" is a generic name given to an older male
person, and needs not indicate any blood tie. It is to the credit of
Malaysians that the address of "Uncle" is usually accompanied by a certain
amount of respect and deference. The Chinese term "Ah Pek" would tend to
sound slightly condescending.

Then one day last month, I was walking down the road in my neighbourhood
when some very young children hailed me as "Ah Gong", which in Chinese
dialects means "Grandpa". My suspicion of my ancientness was thus confirmed
forever.

My old age needs convincing to me because, in the privacy of my skull, I
feel as if it was only yesterday when I was 30 years old. Where have all
those years gone?

When I was 30, I was foolish enough to believe that I was indestructible and
immortal, like many of you young readers out there now. This shows that the
wisdom of old age is useless, because by the time you learn from your
mistake, the lesson is no longer applicable to your present predicament.

The degradation of your body is the first indication of ageing of course. I
am not talking about my iron grey hair which is more salt than pepper. I
have been greying since my teenage years. But my set of good teeth has been
dropping off like flies in the last five years. Right now, you can say that
I am between teeth.

That is how I discovered that being a member of the minority tribe of senior
citizens can be such a bore in Malaysia. The people who run this country of
mostly young people have forgotten about people with very scanty grey hair.

Malaysian Old People's Party (MOPP)

The other day, I tried to go to Bukit Bintang from my Cheras abode by means
of public transport. The distance of eight miles took four changes of buses
and trains, and involved climbing up and down endless staircases that ran
for miles. By the time I reached my destination, I was exhausted and too
tired to go about my business. Of course, there was no special fare for
senior citizens.

I am too cynical about human beings to do any active politics now, or else I
would form a new political party called Malaysian Old People's Party, or
MOPP for short, designed to fight for the rights of senior citizens who have
contributed much to the welfare and growth of the country.

The former PM is probably the most suitable person to lead the MOPP, but he
will probably end up as a dictator, and spoiling our political struggle by
his big mouth. So we better leave him out. He is what you call not being
able to age and retire gracefully. Old people must cease to behave like
young "samsengs"

Without him, the old people's party may take two or three seats. If the DAP,
PAS and Keadilan get crushed again, the MOPP will become the largest
opposition party in Parliament. Perhaps then, it can apply to join the BN.
And perhaps not.

Nothing can be further from my mind than active politics these days. I am
especially careful about food and eating to suit my aged status. After all,
they say you are what you eat; it is the sort of advice gladly accepted only
when it is too late.

So I was standing in front of the road-side stall near Bukit Bintang waiting
to be served my order of a childhood delicacy called you-cha-kueh.

Suddenly, a rather large woman of indeterminate age cut the queue in front
of me, in the rude fashion that only KL people are capable of. In her haste
to squeeze me out of existence, her bulging behinds rubbed against my hands.
I stepped back and looked innocently at the ground in front of me. She
glared at me for about five seconds, probably suspecting that I was trying
to pinch her bulky posterior. Then she decided that I did not look like a
dirty old man after all, and went about her bossy impudent business of
cutting queue.

Some smart ass once remarked to me that you know you are old when you find
your friend's daughter attractive. What nonsense! When the appropriate organ
ceases to produce the male hormones, you find no woman sexually attractive.
The so-called sexy foxy ladies parading down Star-Walk like peacocks are
just very healthy specimens of the female gender to me.

Again, not all old men can age gracefully. I was in a nightclub in Hatyai in
southern Thailand once, decades ago. The dance floor was packed with Chinese
senior citizens from Kedah and Penang. All I could see in the dim and
flashing lights was a sea of grey heads bobbing up and down to the disco
beat, as these ancient creatures tried to dance with their nubile and
scantily clothed partners young enough to be their granddaughters. It was a
hilarious sight.

I know there are wonder drugs that can restore virility temporarily to any
octogenarian. I also know some ladies prefer much older men, though not
always octogenarians. But I do insist the merit of horizontal jogging has
been over-rated universally. Its adverse consequences have never been
properly understood.

Spiritual journey

When asked about his service of Aphrodite, The Greek Goddess of Love,
Sophocles, who was quite advanced in age, was quoted in Plato's Republic to
have replied, "Hush man, most gladly have I escaped this thing you talk of,
as if I had run away from a raging and savage beast of a master." Old age
will set you free - from this "raging and savage beast" of carnal impulses.

So you see, ageing is not merely a physical process; it is also a spiritual
journey.
Young people will not think of their dying. They are too busy pursuing the
goals they have set for themselves, and like moths to the flame, they think
of nothing else except the great dreams of personal happiness. Death and
dying are an abstract concept to them, like justice and 1+1 equals 2. The
death of a parent or a grandparent may cause them to mourn for a while, and
then, like all forgetful creatures, they go back to their mundane existence,
as if to-morrow will never come.

But ageing people are dying everyday, though not all old people would like
to think and talk about it. Unfortunately, denial is useless. Everyday,
aching joints and muscles and various impediments to an active life are
constant reminders of your mortality.

Many decades ago, I used to put myself through college by working as a
nursing orderly in Canada, Quite a number of patients died on my watch from
various causes. Then in the course of my work as a politician, I had the
odious tasks of visiting a great number of hospital patients on their
death-bed.

My limited experience in this death business has told me one thing:
generally speaking, people are terrified of dying their death. Their terror
is inconsolable, and more than a few actually sobbed miserably. Those with
deep religious belief seem to do better.

But watching other people die is far different from facing your own death.
In this world, everything you do can be substituted by another person. But
nobody else can do your dying for you. You have to do it alone, because no
one with experience can come back from the other side of the Great Divide to
teach you to die properly.

Not 'if' but 'when'

But at the same time, death is the most certain of certainties in life. The
only way out of this life is death. It is not a question of "if", but one of
"when".

It is generally a depressing thought because this precious "I" that we
regard as the centre of the entire universe will be cast mercilessly into
the Great Void and extinguished into nothingness. This body that has given
you so much pleasure, and that has been groomed, cleaned, fed daily for
decades will inescapably be fed to the worms.

That is why the promise of afterlife, salvation and eternity from those
great religions has attracted so many faithful followers. If human beings do
not die, there would be no gods and no religion.

On the other hand, if human beings do not die, life would be very boring,
insufferable in fact.

At least I can congratulate myself from not having been struck with one of
those deadly afflictions that demand a slow or painful death, though I touch
wood at the same time that I would not speak too soon. Frankly, I would not
know how to deal with that sort of a prospect come true.

But then, as I write this, I feel hungry. So I must now end here, and go out
to look for some delicious Hailam chicken rice.

-------------------------------------------------------
SIM KWANG YANG was DAP MP for Bandar Kuching in Sarawak 1982-1995. Since
retiring in 1995, he has become a freelance writer in the Chinese-language
press, and taught philosophy in a local college for three years.

He is now working with an NGO in Kuala Lumpur, the Omnicron Learning Circle,
which is aimed at continuing learning for working adults and college
students. Suggestions and feedback can reach him at:
kenyalang578@hotmail.com.

'An Examined Life' appears in Malaysiakini every Saturday.

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Thanks to Lim Yian Swee, (who was with friends Simon Jong and Wee Liang Cheng) who spotted the ‘entranceway’; we discovered a delightful hidden waterfall at Sungai Sarawak Kiri at Borneo Highlands on Sunday morning.

I had been down this route many times before and had gone past the entrance without a second glance and I’m glad that we stopped this time otherwise we would have missed this secret natural wonder. I wondered how many other wonders we must have missed in the course of our life taking the well-trodden path. Sometimes it’s the path less traveled that might had made all the difference. Hmmm.

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Though I see it often, I'm still constantly amazed by the tenacity of the huge trees that grew by the sides of the river with their trunks and branches overhanging over the river with their roots digging in deep in support. It looks impossible and seemed to defy gravity but there it is.



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Do you think the authorities will allow the importation of waxed dog for the coming Chinese New Year; even if it’s the Year of the Dog? I would think especially not! Is anyone hungry now?

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But I’d never expected to come across a van like this for sale which one would have thought had been abandoned. Perhaps its meant for sale as scrap metal rather than as a vehicle as one cannot even test drive it! The tow charges would probably be more than the price of this van. How much would you be prepared to pay for this van? Any takers?

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I find it refreshing to be drenched by the rain; it’s invigorating. Do you?

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I’d always wanted my blog to be positive and open but as when you leave your house windows opened to let in the fresh air, flies can come in and it’s a nuisance if you’re having your dinner. Unfortunately such a pest has landed at my blog and has overstayed my tolerance as a number of your readers had written or spoken to me that they find the comments from this coward hiding behind ‘anonymous’ to be most distasteful and and that such nuisance/nonsense spoil their morning/afternoon; as such a hateful and negative person is completely opposite to what this blog is all about. I don’t think we should put up with this any longer by just ignoring this sick loser.

So I’ll be turning on ‘comments moderation’ meaning that “Comment moderation has been enabled. All comments must be approved by the blog author. This blog does not allow anonymous comments.” So we’ll be shutting out this disgraceful and jealous coward and we can all enjoy the peace and let this scumbag buzz outside around the trashcan where it belongs.

Have a pleasant Sunday and if you’re having a BBQ outside, please don’t forget the fly swapper!

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