Title Page ………………...………………………………..……………….……………… 1 Foreword …………………………………………………...……………….. ……...……. 2 I. Short Stories Ghost Ship ……………………………………………………… …………. 4 The Accident ………………………………………………………. ……… 6 A Shower …………………………………………………………..……….. 8 Two Days in a Foreign Land ……………………………………….…… 10 A Day in the Life of Charles ………………………………………… . … 11 A Princess Returns Home ……………………………………………..... 13 My Father Goes to Court …………………………………………….…… 15 Oil Field ………………………………………………………………..…….. 17 How the Frog Came to Be ………………………………………...……… 19 Angry …………………………………………………………………...……. 20 II. Poetry Japan ………………………………………………………………….…….. 22 Want A Foreign Boyfriend Azaleas ………………………………………………………………..……. 23 Living in Singapore The Iffines of Rain …………………………………………………...…… 24 Umbra Last Love …………………………………………………………….…….. 25 The Longing If I were an Elephant Love Mother Malaysia ……………...…………………………………….26 III. Personal Essay Life in Joviality Confessions of a Former Fat kid……………….… ………………….. 27 IV. Songs Alphaville ……………………………………………………...………….. 29 Love Love Love ……………………………………………………….….. 30 Stay With Me ……………………………………………………….……… 31 Song for Singapore ……………………………………………………… 32 If This Ain’t Love …………………………………………………………. 33 Lan Makwe Kyay …………………………………………………………. 34 Ang Huling El Bimbo …………………………………………….………. 35 What are You? …………………………………………………...……….. 36 Toto …………………………………………………………………………. 37 Prashan Sean and Navin ………………………………………….……. 38 V. Quotations Japanese & Chinese Quotes …………………………………………..39 Korean, Myanmar, Thai & Singaporean ……………………………. 40 Filipino, Arabian, African & Malaysian ……………………………… 41 VI. References ………………………..…………………………………………..42

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Words Around the World is the official folio of Rocholis Publication. The folio mostly features literary works such as short stories, poems, essays and the like from different parts of the world. This year, 2017, Words Around the World gives importance to the literature of African and Asian countries like Japan, China, Korea, Singapore, Thailand, Myanmar, Philippines, and Saudi Arabia. It features short stories, poems, essays, songs and quotations from the said places. With Words Around the World, one can travel around the world through words. Together, let’s discover and unravel the stories of everyone through literature.

Submitted by: Rochelle Olis 3

You can see lights shining far out at sea. In an area like this one, right around the arctic, the blue-black water of the ocean is immense and it’s always cold. Once a shining light in the distance was coming closer and closer to the shore. The closer it came, the more clearly it could be seen. It was an iceberg. The iceberg was big, pointed upwards like a mountain and reflected a piercing light, and also had an area flat and wide enough to carry a large number of people. And of course there is no way of telling how far down the iceberg continued below the surface of the water. All icebergs are formed from crystal-like ice and drift with the currents of the sea. It seemed as if a new iceberg came into sight almost every day. Once there was a huge, slow-moving hunk of ice flowing aimlessly, and even from far off, we were afforded a view of its glittering peak. The lonesome setting sun broke through the clouds and the light which shone from the iceberg reflected in the eyes of those who stood on the shore, all gazing upon the mountain of ice as it moved further and further away. Another time an iceberg came towards us with frightening speed, like a frozen steam ship. Up upon this white, shining piece of ice was not a shadow of a living thing to be seen. Once an iceberg came in close to the shore and everyone saw a small black silhouette fall into the ocean. “Some kind of black bird, maybe?” “A bird? More like a sea lion or a seal.” So said the people standing on the shore looking out over the sea. However, when it came in even closer, they could see that it was a bear. It was angry and trying its hardest to get to the shore. Most likely the bear had ventured out onto the ice to play, but while the bear was playing the sheet of ice would have become separated and the bear would have found itself lost at sea. Everyone knew nothing good would come from that bear making it onto land. It would probably lash out. “Alright, everyone, just keep your guard up. If that bear makes it to the shore there is no telling what might happen,” was what the people had said. And so the people brought with them rifles and spears. But the iceberg never came close enough to the shore, and eventually it floated back out to sea. Everyone was relieved that the bear never made it ashore, but it was actually a little depressing to think about where that bear would have

ended up. These are the kinds of things that happen in the north. And that is the kind of story I’ll tell you today. “There haven’t been any icebergs lately and the sea is so calm. Why don’t we go on a fishing trip?” said one of three fishermen one day. So they boarded their boat and headed out to sea. The three fishermen eventually came close to an island. No one lived on the island and it had a little inlet where there was often some good fishing to be had. So they decided to stop and try to catch some fish, all the while mindful of the time. When they did catch fish, they normally caught a surprising amount. Just when the three fishermen were wondering if they should move on to the next fishing spot, they could see signs that today’s catch would be a good one. “Looks like we’re in luck” “Luck indeed!” The three fishermen were in high spirits. They dropped their net into the water and when they pulled it back up, they found themselves with a bigger catch of fish than ever before. It was such a big catch, in fact, that they left the fish on the shore of the island to pick up on the way home, as too much fish in the boat would only slow them down. One of the three fishermen remained on the island. In the evening he would light a fire to let the other two know where he was as they sailed home. So the first fisherman stood on the shore and watched as the second and third fisherman pushed off from the island and into the sea with a heave and a ho. “Hurry back, alright?!” the first fisherman called out to his two friends. 4

“Miss us already? Don’t worry, we’ll drag ourselves back your way…” the pair called back with a chuckle as they floated further and further away. A quiet evening began to set in as the first fisherman watched the boat drift out to sea until it disappeared into the blueblack of the ocean. When he was a child he thought the surface of the ocean looked flat as a straw mat, but the rippling, violent sea was nothing like that now. The wind picked up as the sun went down. It was sudden and unexpected. Soon the waves grew high and howling. The first fisherman began to worry about his two friends who were still out at sea. “Bring my friends back in one piece, as quickly as you can,” he prayed as he set about starting a bonfire to guide his friends through the dark of the night. The weather turned to wind and rain. The fire that the first fisherman had started was eventually blown out. So the first fishermen set about feverishly starting another fire. But the boat he was waiting to arrive never did. “I wonder where they might be taking shelter from the storm. There is no where else to go in this wide, wide ocean. They must have sunk…” The first fisherman had started to worry as the stormy night turned to complete darkness. Whenever he looked out, the waves of the ocean were winding into the skies above. He could see no sign of a boat.The first fisherman had been abandoned on the small, deserted island. He stood on the rocks of the shore and waited a full day for his friends to return. But perhaps because the winds from yesterday had made the ocean rough, the sun that day went down without any sign of the boat he had been waiting for. Three days passed. The first fisherman had started to grow weak. Finally, after standing on the beach looking intently out over the ocean for three days, the boat carrying his friends cut through the waves and sailed towards the beach. It felt like a thousand years since he had seen them last. He could see that the second fisherman and the third fisherman were fine and moving about on the boat. “Hey!” the first fisherman called out over the water, raising both of his hands high in the air. When he did, it looked like they too had thrown their hands in the air and called back. Only he couldn’t hear their voices. Just then as the setting sun illuminated the tips of the waves, the two fishermen on the boat came into sight, red in the face.

“Hey!” the first fisherman called out, his hand in the air. He thought the other to fishermen would respond, but just as the pair were about to turn to the side and bring their boat in, they disappeared like a puff of smoke. The fist fisherman was shocked. “A ghost ship!” The first fisherman lost all hope, threw himself down on the sand and began to cry. His imagination was running wild, and his nightmares ran through the night. When he awoke the next morning his eyes were bloodshot and his heart was pounding. It was just past midday. The first fisherman raised his head and looked out over the sea only to spot the same boat in the distance. But it was the same as yesterday, a ghost ship, that had come to the island. For a moment he was relieved, and happiness danced in his chest, but in the next instant his body shook with fear. “Damn it. Are they trying to kill me?” said the first fisherman, as he started to lose his mind. The boat cut through the waves and came in closer and closer to the island. The first fisherman pulled out his pistol, aimed at the boat and pulled the trigger. But this time the boat wasn’t a ghost, and it didn’t disappear. Once the boat was docked at the beach, the two other fishermen scrambled up onto land. “Have you gone completely mad?” yelled one, which was enough to snap the first fisherman back to reality. The first fisherman had gone completely mad. That night the winds had caused the boat to be pushed back against a nearby island. Once the waves had died down, the two fishermen went back to the island to recuse their friend. The two fishermen got their crazy friend back on the boat and returned to the mainland. The pair cared for their weakened friend, and through their care he was able to lose his madness and returned to how he used to be. And from there the three friends went on to be even better friends for a very long time. This story is still told in the harbors to the north where the head of that deserted island still pokes up from between those blue black waves.

“Ahh, here’s a sight for sore eyes, my two friends! They made it back alive,” said the first fisherman, warm tears of joy swelling in his eyes. Before long the boat was nearly on the sand. 5

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the motorbike

years old, his clothes were oily, he wore a pair of yellow

clank over and skid a long way. The rider flew into the

rubber shoes, and his clothes reeked of pesticide. He didn't

air, hitting the ground with a terrible thump and rolling

look too clued-up about life.

over twice before coming to a halt. My mind went blank and I stopped the car. The rider lay on the road, not moving. Night was falling and a hubbub surrounded the scene of the accident. I stared blankly at the blood flowing out from beneath his helmet, a gorgeous bright red, like Rugosa roses in full May bloom.

I glared fiercely. 'What business is that of yours? Driver's license!' He groped about for ages and then grinned shyly, 'Aiya, I forgot to bring it.' This was advantage to me, and I poked his chest. 'Exactly. Fuck YOU – no driver's licence? Riding on my tail? And you still dare to swear at me?'

The guy was still flat on the road, motionless. I sat in my car thinking, 'Whatever you do my friend, please don't be dead. Driving after drinking, making an illegal turn. If you are dead then I might as well be too.' After a bit I got out of my car and slowly went up to him. He suddenly turned over, sat up, and inside his helmet started to mutter and swear bewilderedly, 'Fuck you. What kind of driving was that?' Sweet merciful shit – in my thirty-seven years of life, I, Old Wei, have had a few verbal bouquets tossed in my general direction. None of them were as welcome to my ears as that 'Fuck you.' It was like thunder from heaven. I thought, 'If this guy is still alive enough to swear, then that is just too fucking excellent. The road was carpeted with celery and radishes – it looked like he was a poor farmer delivering vegetables to the city. Feeling calmer, I tried to help him to walk a couple of steps. That went OK, and he stood up straight. Things were looking good – the only problem I could see

His head dropped and he tried to defend himself, 'You … you didn't have your lights on, how did I know ...' Just then I noticed a few people slowly coming over, and I figured that even rabbits had been known to bite people when they were nervous, so why didn't I just bung him a bit of cash and be done with it. Best to avoid any fuss. I helped him to stand up his motorbike, and the old guy lowered his head, shakily advanced a couple of steps, and then suddenly collapsed to the ground again. This time he was out cold. I prodded him violently for ages but he didn't come round. The crowd was growing and a lengthy queue of cars had built up behind us. I could hear police sirens in the distance. I didn't like the look of this and quickly rang Hu Caoxing. He was very businesslike and asked me a few questions about where the incident had taken place and the general situation, and then promised to find help.

was that his mouth was still bloody. I decided that that I

I'd just hung up when the cops arrived and one of

shouldn't show him any weakness. If I was nice to him he

them asked for my documents. I said in a small voice, 'I

might take advantage, and I had no idea what he might

am friends with your Commissar.'

ask for. He slowly removed his helmet, and then I bellowed at once, 'Show me your driver's license!' No one who'd caused an accident would dare to say this, and I wanted to club him into submission. He still looked confused. He rubbed the blood on his head, looked at his hand and then shakily asked me, 'What are you doing?' This guy was more than fifty

He stared at me. 'Don't talk rubbish, get your documents out.' The old farmer was slowly coming round, and breathing heavily. He said 'You weren't …' I was getting more and more worried, but then I heard the cop's radio crackle into life. If this was Hu Caoxing, he was really on his game. The cop listened for a while and then gave me a 6

hard look before walking away from the crowd to continue the conversation. He came back less than two minutes later with a totally different attitude. He said nothing to me. Instead he addressed himself directly to the farmer. 'You were on his tail? ID card, driver's licence, passport!' The old guy's face turned pale – it was smeared with blood, his mouth was quivering. For ages he didn't seem to realise what was happening. The cop interrogated him some more and then turned to me and whispered, 'Lawyer Wei, let's get him to the hospital first. He's hurt pretty bad.'

'thousand.' The old vegetable farmer's eyes widened and, visibly seized with terror, he produced a pile of wrinkled notes, 2 kuai, 1 kuai, and lots of mao. The whole lot couldn't have added up to more than 100 yuan. He was so distraught that tears were flowing. 'I only have this much, otherwise you can take the motorbike.'

This old motorbike is only good for scrap,' I said. 'Why would I want it?' The cop had a few words with him in a low voice. The guy shook violently, then opened his jacket and reluctantly pro-

duced a square plastic bag. Inside was about 330 yuan: a hundred note, 4 fifties, 3 tens, all folded into a

I groaned – what shitty luck. But I never

small rectangle. With a faltering hand he gave it to

thought that the old guy would turn out to be in-

me. His face was running with tears. 'This is to buy

credibly stupid. He stood up quite suddenly and

fertilizer, it's all I have. I don't have any more mon-

leaned shakily on his motorbike. Then he took his

ey.' I took the 330 and watched as the guy pushed his

vegetable basket and started to scoop up the greens

motorbike away. He tried to start it up a few times,

from the road, dripping blood on the leaves. The cop

but he couldn't. After that, with one hand carrying

and I exchanged amused glances. The cop said to

the vegetable basket and one propping up the bike,

him, 'There's nothing wrong?'

he went off. Blood was still dripping down his face.

The old vegetable grower rubbed his chest, 'Hurts.'

The crowd slowly dispersed, and the first cop advised me in a low voice, 'You want to watch

The other, weedier cop stepped forward and asked him whether he was willing to settle this, and went on, 'You have no driver's licence, you were on his tail and it looks like you hit his car! You have to admit liability, do you understand?' And then he told me, 'You were at fault too, your lights weren't on!' I meekly admitted I was to blame as well. The old guy was scared, and he stammered out an apology to me, 'Sorry … sorry.' I was laughing inside – man was I relieved. This cop really knew how to deal with things. He pointed to the part of my car that had been hit. 'Is the car OK?'

the drink, in future.' 'Got it, got it,' I said. 'I owe you dinner.' He didn't reply, just blew his whistle and left. I got back in the car and was just driving around the next bend when I saw the old farmer stopped by a small tree. His face was as pale as rice-paper and his hand was pressed against his stomach as he coughed and coughed. We exchanged glances and then I looked away as if nothing had happened. 'The transport cops have dealt with this,' I thought. 'Why should I go looking for trouble by doing anything for this guy?' I stepped on the gas and continued on to Feng Shan town, thinking that my girlfriend Xiao Li must be worried about me by now.

I said, 'It's hard to say before it goes to the repair shop, but the trimmings and the paintwork will need to be done and that's at least three or four 7

As soon as the boy saw the girl beside the stream, he realized that she must be the great-granddaughter of Master Yun. She had her hands in the water and was splashing it about. Probably she had never seen a stream like that in Seoul. She had been playing with the water in the same manner for several days now, on the way home from school. Until the previous day she had played at the edge of the stream, but today she is right in the middle of the stepping-stones. The boy sat down on the bank. He decided to wait until she got out of the way. As it happened, someone came along and she

One day, the boy sat down in the middle of the stepping stones, just where the girl had sat playing with the water. He dipped his hand in the water. He wiped his face. He stared into the water. His darkly tanned face looked back at him. He hated it. One day, the boy sat down in the middle of the stepping stones, just where the girl had sat playing with the water. He dipped his hand in the water. He wiped his face. He stared into the water. His darkly tanned face looked back at him. He hated it. The boy grabbed at the face in the water with both hands. Several times he grabbed at it. Then he suddenly sprang up in surprise. Why, the girl is coming, walking in this direction!

made way.

If only there was somewhere he could hide. On

The next day, he arrived at the stream a little

this side there are no reeds. Just buckwheat fields. He

later. This time he found her washing her face, sitting

had the impression the perfume from the buckwheat

there in the middle of the stepping-stones. In contrast to

flowers was pricking his nostrils as never before. His

her pink jumper with its sleeves rolled up, the nape of her

head was spinning. A salty fluid seeped between his lips

neck was very white.

into his mouth. His nose was bleeding.

After washing her face for a while, she stares intently into the water. She must be looking at her reflection. She makes a sudden grab at the water. Perhaps some baby fish were swimming by. There is no knowing if the girl is aware or not of the boy sitting on the bank as she goes on making nimble grabs at the water. But each time to no effect. She simply keeps grabbing at the water as if for the sheer fun of it. It looks as though she will only get out of the way if there’s someone crossing the stream, as on the previous day.

Blocking his bleeding nose with one hand, the boy went running on. He had the impression of a voice following him, repeatedly calling out, ‘Silly boy, silly boy.’ Saturday came. When he reached the edge of the stream, the girl, whom he had not seen for several days, was sitting beside the stream playing with the water. He started to cross the stepping stones, pretending to ignore her. A few days previously, he had simply made a fool of himself in front of the girl, so today he crossed the stepping stones cautiously, whereas before he had walked across them as if they were a highway.

Shaking her bobbed hair, she goes running off. She took the path between the reed beds. Then there was nothing but pale reed heads shining bright in the clear autumn sunlight. The girl would soon reappear on the far side of the reeds. Then he began to think she was taking a long time. Still she did not appear. He stood on tiptoe. And he began to think she was taking an extremely long time.

They took a path between two paddy fields. They passed close to where the autumn harvest was under way. A scarecrow was standing there. The boy shook its straw rope. A few sparrows go flying off. The thought comes to him that he was supposed to go home early today to scare the sparrows from their main paddy field. 8

After looking outside, the boy went running toward the millet field, as if struck by a thought. He pushed

Without bothering to reply, his father weighed up the chicken he was holding: ‘Will one this size do?’

apart one of the stacks formed by leaning the millet stalks together upright, then carried over another stack and added it to the first. Then he parted the stalks again, before waving her to come over. The rain did not penetrate inside the stack of millet. It was a dark and very narrow space. The boy sat beside the stack and let the rain soak him. Steam rose from his shoulders. The girl told him, in a kind of whisper, that he

His mother handed him a mesh bag: ‘It’s already been clucking and looking for a place to lay for several days. It may not look very big, it must be fat.’ This time the boy tried asking his mother where his father was going. ‘

the valley by the old school. He can use it for their offerings . . .’ ‘Then he should take a really big one. That speckled rooster . . .’ At those words his father laughed out loud and said, ‘Hey, there’s flesh enough on this one.’

should come and sit inside. I’m alright, he replied. Again, the girl told him to come and sit inside. He had no choice but to enter backwards. As he did so, he crushed the flowers the girl was still holding. But the

The boy felt abashed for no real reason, so he threw his school books down, went across to the stable and gave the cow a good slap on the back as if he were killing a blowfly.

girl thought it did not matter. The stench from the boy’s wet body filled her nostrils. But she did not turn her head aside. Rather, she felt that the trembling in her body was diminishing on account of the warmth of the boy’s body. Abruptly the noise on the millet leaves stopped. It was clearing up outside. They emerged from among the millet stalks. Not far in front of them sunlight was already shining down dazzlingly. Arriving at the ditch, they found a great flood of water filling it. In the sunlight it shone red, a muddy torrent. They could not jump across it. The boy turned his back to her. The girl obedient-

Why, he’s off to the house of Master Yun over in

The boy went up to the parting of the ways and turned downhill. The village round the old school looked very near beneath the clear blue sky. His parents had said that the girl’s family was moving to Yangpyong the next day. There, they were going to run a tiny store. Unthinkingly, the boy caressed the walnuts in his pocket while with the other hand he was bending and breaking off a host of reeds. That evening the boy kept returning to the same idea, even after he was lying down to sleep: Tomorrow, suppose I

ly let him carry her. The water rose as far as the boy’s

went to see the girl’s family leaving. If I went, perhaps I

rolled-up breeches.

might see her. Father must have come back from the village.

The girl cried out, and clasped the boy’s neck. Before they reached the stream, the autumn sky had cleared and soon it was completely blue, cloudless, as if nothing had ever happened. After that there was no sign of the girl. Every day he ran to the stream to look, but she was not to be seen. At break-time in school he used to search the playground. He even stole a secret glance into the 5th-grade girls’ classroom. But she was not to be seen. ‘I was sick all this while.’

‘Just look at the family of Master Yun, now. All their fields sold off, the house they’ve lived in for generations handed over to other folk, and then the child dying before the parents . . .’ His mother, sitting sewing in the lamplight, replied: ‘ ‘ That’s a fact. The girl, now, she was sick for several days and they couldn’t even afford any proper medicine. Now the whole family line of Master Yun is cut off. . . . But you know, that little girl, don’t you think it’s a bit odd? Why, before she died, believe it or not it seems she said that if she died, she wanted them to bury her in the clothes she’d been wearing every day, just as they were. . . .’ 9

It was a forsakenly hot day, the morning sun seethed with unmet madness in the sky. The sun was burning his eyes as Zheng Nian took in the unremarkable sight below him – hundreds of men in yellow helmets

Two Days in a

packed in the cavernous construction site like an upturned beehive let loose. When the nauseous feeling passed over him, Zheng Nian could not resist leaning forward again from where he squatted surveying the foreign world below him.

Foreign Land

Assigned to pave cement on the roof, Zheng Nian wondered if the ground forty-storey below him was as stubbornly hot as where he was. Where he was, up there, the ground surprised his feet with the heaviness of heat burning through his safety boots. At the thought of his body hurtling accidentally down the point of no return, cold sweat broke his skin. He retreated a little from the unfinished edge of the roof, the sun raining angrily down hard on his back. Since he arrived here in Singapore two days ago, the dank, dead weight of unforgiving heat and humidity dogged him by surprise. There was little clarity to feel up there in the head when baked in the heat. Zheng Nian suddenly thought about his hometown in Hubei – walking in the creeping cold, wisps of winter in the air – when he could think so clearly, so effortlessly. As if nature heard his thoughts, a slight warm breeze nudged the air, startling the beads of perspiration gathering earnestly on his temple. Just before he arrived in Singapore, he was huddled in layers of wool, scrunching across the snow-swept ground he could barely feel, the milk-colour of whiteness in the air blinding him, the harsh cold of winter biting into his heart. Where he was now perched on the roof, it was the other way around. Zheng Nian was all ready to ditch the white singlet on him, surrendering it like a white flag to the onslaught of the punishing heat. Singapore is a safe place. He was told that much by those who had come before him. From his village alone, a handful had worked in the city-state. For those who didn’t land a job there, they had left the village for the bigger, richer cities in the country – the jewels of Pearl River Delta – Shenzhen, Guangzhou and the other coastal cities. Like others before him, he wanted to take in the world

before it was lost to him. He felt compelled to leave like what others had done to build a better world for themselves and their families. Zheng Nian drank in the gleaming prospect of a future that would have been out of reach if he had stayed behind in his hometown. Yet, he felt dehydrated of hope. As he took in the neat cityscape of buildings interspersed with trees that lined the smooth roads everywhere, Zheng Nian caught the parallel paradox of his situation – he was there to build the buildings as he tried to build a life for himself and his family while unbuilding his very presence back home. He wondered, how many of these inanimate structures would he have to build to truly set himself free? In those last moments when he suddenly lost consciousness in the fierceness of the heat, when he fought to keep himself from tipping over the edge of no return, he wondered where his son would be when he’s all grown up? Surely, he would be happy, in a meaningful job, blissfully married in an affluent China? Would he look more like him, or his mother – a face crumbled with unfounded worry when he broke the news to her on his plan to work in Singapore? Don’t go, she begged. I’m still young, 35, strong enough to do the work, he replied. I want a better life for you and our son. Two years, I’ll be back. Our son will only be almost 3 years old then, just in time for him to learn to talk and call me papa. Don’t worry, nothing will happen. Singapore is a safe place. Taking in the last breath of dust chalked up by the cement and concrete around him, it wasn’t lost on Zheng Nian that he hadn’t seen much of the garden city that he had come to see. Neither had he built the buildings he had come to build, nor the promises of the future that was his to keep. He had a future then..

10

houses from you. And they are all waving at you. This is getting curiouser and curiouser.

I believe that anyone who dares to call him or her self a writer ought to have an active imagination; otherwise, he is just feeding us a lot of notions that we have already mulled over and kicked around more than once. And so I

In the next few minutes there are more hugs, and kisses, and back-slapping going on than you can stand. None of them ever treated you like this before, so you are now leaning toward a new belief that you have been sent to the loony world. On the bright side, there’s really good music playing, and everyone can dance really well, and the revelry is contagious. So you join in. You head straight for the hot babe. She is all smiles, and love, but no funny stuff. That’s when you realize that not having a body can have its drawbacks. Fun without sex and booze was never your idea of heaven. You wonder if there’s golf.

decided, just for the fun of it, to write about life as we don’t

All of a sudden, up jumps the devil—in a manner

know it—life in the afterlife. But let me first settle your

of speaking. It’s Mugsy Jones, the town bully from your

fears: I am not a preacher, nor a theologian, nor someone on a

distant past. You owe him a good ass-kicking, so you lunge

mission to change, evangelize, or to proselytize anyone. Nope.

right through him. You do three cart wheels before you

I am not even going to express a deep-seated belief about Je-

land on a soft cloud. Mugsy is laughing at you and your

sus, Mohammed, or the Flying Spaghetti Monster. So get me

foolishness. “You can’t touch me, flower child” he telecom-

out of your crosshairs, put down your rotten tomatoes, and

municates. “Flower child?” you reply through an inner

relax. Who knows? This could even be entertaining.

communication system that you do not understand. And

Let’s start with the conventional stuff. You have just died. And suddenly you realize you are floating above your body. You hang around (literally), and you quickly realize that all those coming and going are looking at your body in sorrow or terror, while ignoring the real you like you were not there. You call out to them, but nobody will even look your way. That’s when a new reality hits you: You are dead meat—to them, not a cool floating being in your new state of weightlessness. Still, you quickly lose interest in hanging around in an environment where nobody will even acknowledge your presence. You are now, at best, indifferent to everyone. And we all know that indifference is the opposite of love. You can’t handle non-affection. After a few minutes you therefore become motivated to “fly away.” And so you do. A tingling mist that had been permeating the environment dissipates. And there before you is a throng of people. You think you are prepared for battle that you can neither activate nor defend against. And then you realize you don’t have to do either. There are all your old friends, all those who passed over before you. Now you know you are really dead, or you are high on something. Your suspicions are confirmed: They are all a bunch of flower-bearing, smiling elves. Well, maybe not. But they are not warriors. Why there is Bill, and Stinky, and that hot babe who lived just two

you leap back onto your imaginary feet. You have been wanting to pepper his face with knuckles for the better part of 40 years. Now is your chance. He disarms you with “Oh come on, Chucky-Poo. Let’s have a glass of make believe lemonade over there on Cloud 9.” Before you can launch another attack, the Grand Counselor intercedes. “Charles,” he commands. “You have been summoned to the Great Temple.” “My name isn’t Charles, Grand Counselor,” I begin to say. But he cuts me off. “It’s your old name, lad. As you will discover, you’ve been here before. Just like everyone else. You don’t remember the drill now, but you will. Now come along.” The Great Temple is an eerie place. There is no music or laughter in here. You are taken before a tribunal of Grand Elders. You know they are Grand Elders because you can feel mathematics, and algorithms,,. “We are here to help you decide your own fate, Charles.” You think “OMG, this is my Judgment, and I am on my way to hell.” Just as suddenly you hear “No, Charles, you are not going to a place that does not exist. Hell is just a primitive Earthly concept. But if you don’t listen to and follow our counsel, you will be sent back to Earth where you wish it were hell. Am I coming through, Charles?” 11

“Loud and clear, Great One,” I projected. “No, Charles,

upward toward a better person, a better life. Otherwise,

I am only wise, not great. We are here to discuss your short-

you will get to review your life again, and the one before

comings, and all the misery and the havoc you heaped upon

that, and the one before that. You see, Charles, you must

others during your most recent tenure on Planet Earth. We

become a believer in yourself, and your potential. Other-

don’t slap you around or imprison you for all of your tomfool-

wise, you could get caught in an endless loop of recycling

ery. That would be too easy. We are here only to help you

old lives that even you judge as dreary as shit—in a man-

cleanse your soul from all that shit—and I use that term ad-

ner of speaking.”

visedly. Now to help you see, hear, and feel your days, and hours, and seconds on Earth—with intensity. We are all going to watch and listen as you feel every joy, every agony, every pleasure, every pain that you ever inflicted upon all other beings, and every animal, and every flower, every bee, every bird, every tree, etc. And it will all be magnified a thousand times over. Are you up for it?” “No,” you whimper. “Good,” said the Wise One. “Because if you thought life on Earth was good or bad the first time through, you ain’t seen nor heard, nor felt nuthin’ yet—in a manner of speaking, nonverbally, of course. Roll the videos, turn up the speakers, and the feel-o-rama machine, boys. This could be embarrassing.” And so you rock and roll, and lie and drool, and you writhe in anguish as you see, hear, and feel yourself inflict pain and sorrow upon humanity and Nature. After what seems like an eternity, the room falls quiet. And there you sit, in a puddle of imaginary sweat, a contrite and humble soul, without pride or drive, and unable to conjure up a thought that would dare to cause a blade of grass to shudder—if there were any around to shudder. You have been

The sun was shining brightly as you awakened that morning. You shake your head several times before you realize you are back in your own body, and you had been dreaming. A chill runs down your spine as you recall the Wise One, and his words. You struggle to get out of bed, fearful that you might step on one of Nature’s creatures, or blaspheme against the sun, or not give your cat food and space to relax. As you pass by the mirror on your wall, you suddenly notice something strange about it. You slowly turn and peek into it. To your horror, there is the Wise One from your dream looking back at you. You try to scream, but you cannot utter a sound. You are transfixed by that look on his face. After much agony you manage to say “What are you doing here? Are you spying on me?” The image smiles. “No, I am merely observing that you remain true to yourself, Charles. I could judge you, I suppose, because I am you, and you are me. We are kind of stuck on each other. Now get on with your life, before the shit hits the fan, and you get your ass into deep trouble—in a manner of speaking.”

beaten into a pulp—so to speak—by your own words and deeds. You have met the enemy—and he is you. “Well, Charles, what have you to say for yourself that hasn’t already been said by you?” With much effort you manage to say “Only that I am an asshole, a whimpering, simpering asshole.” “That is a good place to start, Charles. Now you will get your chance to work upward from there. You see, Charles, you are your own judge, and only you can set your course for a new life, one that reaches for a higher outcome, a better outcome. Does that make sense to you? “It’s crystal clear, oh Wise One.” “Good. Now go out among the brethren. Think, contemplate, and devise a new plan. But it must be one that shows you have learned your lessons, and you will strive onward and 12

Maas, a well known and highly respected figure in international art circles dealing in Victorian, Pre-Raphaelite, Romantic and Modern British paintings. Sir Gerald Kelly’s painting, measuring 96.5 x 80.6 centimetres (38 x 31.75 inches) and titled Sao Ohn Nyunt V, was signed and dated 1932.

Before Maas Gallery obtained it in 2003, the painting was part of a private collection in the United States, but the owner had lent it to a museum so that many people could appreciate it. “The deal was finalised on April 29,” Thet Paing Soe said. “It’s not that I have a lot of money to spare but ever since I saw a reproduction in a book when I was a boy, [Sao Ohn Nyunt’s] face has haunted me. On the very day in late April that Prince William married his Princess Kate, another princess, after 79 years in exile, took the first step in her long journey home from London to Myanmar. She was Sao Ohn Nyunt, the Shan princess who will remain forever young and forever beautiful, caught in the timelessness of art in a portrait by Sir Gerald Kelly, a British artist who, as a favourite painter of the British Royal Family, was knighted in 1945. Thet Paing Soe, an avid art lover and businessman, said it took many months of negotiation with the prestigious Maas Gallery of Mayfair, London, before he could bring her home.

Maas Gallery is owned by Rupert

“When the painting arrived I sat in front of it the whole night, just gazing, gazing and gazing at her. For me, it was a dream come true; my joy is immeasurable.” Sao Ohn Nyunt’s serene beauty, her dignified demeanour and the shy expression give her the look of a mysterious princess out of legend, and has earned her the title of the Mona Lisa of Asia. She was very real, however, with as much of a royal

background as any princess in a fairytale. Her grandfather Sao Hkun Hseng was the sawbwa (Shan king) of Hsibaw from 1866 to 1902, and his Maha Devi was a princess royal of the Konbaung dynasty (1752-1885). Sao Ohn Nyunt’s cousin Sao Ohn Kya, who married her older sister, became the ruler of Hsibaw from 1928 to 1938. When he attended a conference in London that lasted from November 1931 to January 1932, Sao Ohn Nyunt accompanied him and her sister. 13

In a climate far colder than her native

Shan hills she was also, as Sir Gerald Kelly wrote, “bored to tears” at one official reception where they met. Kelly, then 52, had been to Myanmar more than 10 years before, and he was much taken with the beauty of the people and the land. Here in the heart of London, he unexpectedly rediscovered the beauty of Myanmar, this time

He immediately asked if she would sit for him. After obtaining permission from her cousin Sao Ohn Kya, Kelly began five portraits of her and also took photos and made sketches so that he could continue to work after she went home. Kelly did about 20 portraits of the princess over the course of the next 30 years. Three of them – titled Sao Ohn Nyunt VI, Burmese Pearl and Burmese Silk – were made into posters and their sales numbered more than 50,000 copies. They are still on offer at many print shops as well as online. Back in Myanmar, in 1934 Sao Ohn Nyunt married Sao Khun Mong, who was a son of Sao Kawng Kiaw Intaleng, sawbwa of the east-

London, Thet Paing Soe said he thought such artworks “belong” in Myanmar. “They should be here in Myanmar, this is where they belong. By next year I hope to retire and focus my energy on creating a small museum of ‘Things Myanmar’,” he said. He said that among his collection was a full set of the first series of 18 hand-tinted engravings collectively known as Eighteen Views, made by engraver T Fielding from the drawings of Lt Joseph Moore and published in two series in 1825 and 1826. “Moore made these illustrations just before or during the First Anglo-Burman War of 1824. I read somewhere that from the first series, one full set was presented to the British Royal Family. “Another Myanmar painting I treasure is the heartbreaking scene of the exile of King Thibaw by Saya Chone, titled Pardaw Mu. There are so many of our arts and antiques that should come home, like the Princess Sao Ohn Nyunt,” he said.

ern Shan State town of Kengtung from 1895 to 1935.

In one letter Kelly wrote to Sao Ohn Nyunt in 1962, he said, “You brought me luck, because the things I painted from you are among the best pictures that I ever produced.” Thet Paing Soe said he hopes to collect more paintings by Myanmar artists or scenes of Myanmar, that are now scattered all over the world. Despite the fact that Sao Ohn Nyunt V was the creation of a British painter working in 14

My Father Goes to Court When I was four, I lived with my mother and brothers and sisters in a small town on the island of Luzon. Father’s farm had been destroyed in 1918 by one of our sudden Philippine floods, so for several years afterward we all lived in the town, though he preffered living in the country. We had a next-door neighbor, a very rich man, whose sons and daughters seldom came out of the house. While we boys and girls played and sand in the sun, his children stayed inside and kept the windows closed. His house was so tall that his children could look in the windows of our house and watch us as we played, or slept, or ate, when there was any food in the house to eat. Now, this rich man’s servants were always frying and cooking something good, and the aroma of the food was wafted down to us from the windows of the big house. We hung about and took all the wonderful smell of the food into our beings. Sometimes, in the morning, our whole family stood outside the windows of the rich man’s house and listened to the musical sizzling of thick strips of bacon or ham. I can remember one afternoon when our neighbor’s servants roasted three chickens. The chickens were young and tender and the fat that dripped into the burning coals gave off an enchanting odor. We watched the servants turn the beautiful birds and inhaled the heavenly spirit that drifted out to us. Some days the rich man appeared at a window and glowered down at us. He looked at us one by one, as though he were condemning us. We

“What is it?”
were all healthy because we went out in the sun every day and bathed in the

belly and rubbed it gently. “How do you know you are preg-

cool water of the river that flowed from the mountains into the sea. Some-

nant?” he asked.

times we wrestled with one another in the house before we went out to play. We were always in the best of spirits and our laughter was contagious. Other neighbors who passed by our house often stopped in our yard and joined us in our laughter. Laughter was our only wealth. Father was a laughing man. He would go in to the living room and stand in front of the tall mirror, stretching his mouth into grotesque shapes with his fingers and making faces at himself, and then he would rush into the kitchen, roaring with laughter. There was plenty to make us laugh. There was, for instance, the day one of my brothers came home and brought a small bundle under his arm, pretending that he brought something to eat, maybe a leg of lamb or something as extravagant as that to make our mouths water. He rushed to mother and through the bundle into her lap. We all stood around, watching moth-

er undo the complicated strings. Suddenly a black cat leaped out of the bundle and ran wildly around the house. Mother chased my brother and beat him with her little fists, while the rest of us bent double, choking with laughter. Another time one of my sisters suddenly started screaming in the middle of the night. Mother reached her first and tried to calm her. My sister cried and groaned. When father lifted the lamp,

“Feel it!” she cried. We put our hands on her belly. There was something moving inside. Father was frightened. Mother was shocked. “Who’s the man?” she asked. “There’s no man,” my sister said. ‘What is it then?” Father asked. Suddenly my sister opened her blouse and a bullfrog jumped out. Mother fainted, father dropped the lamp, the oil spilled on the floor, and my sister’s blanket caught fire. One of my brothers laughed so hard he rolled on the floor. When the fire was extinguished and Mother was revived, we turned to bed and tried to sleep, but Father kept on laughing so loud we could not sleep any more. Mother got up again and lighted the oil lamp; we rolled up the mats on the floor and began dancing about and laughing with all our might. We made so much noise that all our neighbors except the rich family came into the yard and joined us in loud, genuine laughter. It was like that for years.

my sister stared at us with shame in her eyes.

15

As time went on, the rich man’s children became thin and anemic,

“Bring the children of the complainant.”

while we grew even more robust and full of fire. Our faces were bright and rosy, but theirs were pale and sad. The rich man started to cough at night; then he coughed day and night. His wife began coughing too. Then the children started to cough one after the other. At night their coughing sounded like barking of a herd of seals. We hung outside their windows and listened to them. We wondered what had happened to them. We knew that they were not sick from lack of nourishing food because they were still always frying something delicious to eat. One day the rich man appeared at a window and stood there a long time. He looked at my sisters, who had grown fat with laughing, then at my brothers, whose arms and legs were like the molave, which is the sturdi-

They came shyly. The spectators covered their mouths with their hands. They were so amazed to see the children so thin and pale. The children walked silently to a bench and sat down without looking up. They stared at the floor and moved their hands uneasily. Father could not say anything at first. He just stood by his chair and looked at them. Finally he said, “I should like to cross-examine the complainant.” “Proceed.” “Do you claim that we stole the spirit of your wealth and became a laughing family while yours became morose and sad?” Father asked. “Yes.”

est tree in the Philippines. He banged down the window and ran through the

“Then we are going to pay you right now,” Father said. He

house, shutting all the windows. From that day on, the windows of our neighbor’s house were closed. The children did not come outdoors anymore. We could still hear the servants cooking in the kitchen, and no matter how tight the windows were shut, the aroma of the food came to us in the wind and drifted gratuitously into our house. One morning a policeman from the presidencia came to our house

walked over to where we children were sitting on the bench and took my straw hat off my lap and began filling it up with centavo pieces that he took out his pockets. He went to Mother, who added a fistful of silver coins. My brothers threw in their small change. “May I walk to the room across the hall and stay there for a minutes, Judge?” Father asked. “As you wish.”

with a sealed paper. The rich man had filled a complaint against us. Father took me with him when he went to the town clerk and asked him what it was all about. He told Father the man claimed that for years we had been stealing the spirit of his wealth and food.

“Thank you,” Father said. He strode into the other room with the hat in his hands. It was almost full of coins. The doors of both rooms were wide open. “Are you ready?” Father called.

When the day came for us to appear in court, Father brushed his

“Proceed.” The judge said.

old army uniform and borrowed a pair of shoes from one of my brothers.

The sweet tinkle of coins carried beautifully into the room.

We were the first to arrive. Father sat on a chair in the center of the courtroom. Mother occupied a chair by the door. We children sat on a long bench by the wall. Father kept jumping up his chair and stabbing the air with his

The spectators turned their faces toward the sound with wonder. Father came back and stood before the complainant. “Did you hear it?” he asked.

arms, as though he were defending himself before an imaginary jury.

“Hear what?” the man asked.

The rich man arrived. He had grown old and feeble; his face was scarred with deep lines. With him was his young lawyer. Spectators came in

“The spirit of the money when I shook this hat?” he asked.

and almost filled the chairs. The judge entered the room and sat on a high

“Yes.”

chair. We stood up in a hurry and sat down again.

“Then you are paid.” Father said.

After the courtroom preliminaries, the judge took at father. “Do you have a lawyer?” he asked. “I don’t need a lawyer judge.” He said. “Proceed,” said the judge. The rich man’s lawyer jumped and pointed his finger at Father, “Do you or do you not agree that you have been stealing the spirit of the complainant’s wealth and food?” “I do not!” Father said. “Do you or do you not agree that while the complainant’s servants cooked and fried fat legs of lambs and young chicken breasts, you and your family hung outside your windows and inhaled the heavenly spirit of the food?”

The rich man opened his mouth to speak and fell to the floor without a sound. The lawyer rushed to his aid. The judge pounded his gravel. “Case dismissed,” he said. Father strutted around the courtroom. The judge even came down to his high chair to shake hands with him. “By the way,” he whispered, “I had an uncle who died laughing.” “You like to hear my family laugh, judge?” Father asked. “Why not?” Did you hear that children?” Father said. My sister started it. The rest of us followed them and soon the spectators were laughing with us, holding their bellies and bending over the chairs. And the laughter of the judge was the loudest of all.

“I agree,” Father said. “How do you account for that?” Father got up and paced around, scratching his head thoughtfully. Then he said, “I would like to see the children of the complainant, Judge.”

16

When Ja'far's father went to work for SakOil, I asked my Dad about these oil fields everyone was talking about. He told me they weren't that far from our village. That evening I kept on asking and asking him about them, and eventually he took me up

OIL FIELD

to the roof of our house. He pointed with his slender I treasured the tales cousin Sulaiman told when he came back from

hand to the eastern horizon, where five spots of light flickered uncertainly. "There," he said gently, "under each of those flares is an oil well." I was obsessed with these lights, staring at them like a moth which tries to steer by the stars, hoping that I could fly straight toward them. Over on the other side of the roof, the washing hung damp in the still air. An ant crawled over my foot, heading for a dark corner. I kicked it away – I wasn't going anywhere. I stood up and followed my Dad back down to our living room like a disappointed Sufi. Yet my faith never vanished. All that hot, damp summer, I spent many hours looking at the flickerings of those flares as if I was some religious novice. They were like some great show, the gas squeezing up from the depths of the oil well to be consumed in flame against the intense black horizon, like some great dragon. I could hardly step onto the roof without looking to the east and counting those flares like a catechism. Every time one appeared I rushed to my Dad, a

Bahrain for my grandmother's funeral. He had worked on the first pipeline project, when American women were roaming the streets without covering their heads. "People used to be more accepting," he said with a sigh. The men nodded. Once Ali, our neighbour, said he was one of the workers crowded around the king in the black and white photograph of a recently-discovered oil field hanging proudly on his sitting-room wall. I didn't know he had been this close to royalty, so I asked which one was him. He said he was hiding his face because taking photographs is haram. My Dad said it was past my bedtime. Ja'far used to live in the street opposite our house. His Dad would spend three days without a break in the oil field, and then come home to spend a couple of days with his wife and children before setting off again. Ja'far told me his Dad boarded a fast boat that took him from the port of Ras Tannura to an off-shore oil rig in the Safaniya field in the middle of the sea. Ja'far became my best friend. Every day I heard a different story from him about his Dad. I didn't ask myself whether a story was true or not – anything was possible for his Dad. All I wanted was one day to work in an oil field myself, and to have a son who would be as proud of me as Ja'far was of his Dad. My Dad didn't work in the oil field. He taught at the deaf and dumb

lucky astronomer who has sighted a new star in the

school at the end of our street. He spent his day with children who could not

sky. Dad never shared my excitement.

speak or hear, and so I could hardly expect him to bring home any interesting

Every morning I would watch the men setting off to work in those oil wells. Some went in cars to the SakOil headquarters wearing suits, though whenever they were in the village they wore the local thawbs. Others gathered at the vegetable souk where large buses took them to the distant fields. These wore

tales. When Dad came back with a bag of fresh hamour from the fish market and a bag of cabbage leaves from the souk, I'd be at the other end of the village, playing football with Ja'far. When his Dad got back from the oil rig he would greet me with a warm handshake. And one day he gave me a small medallion stamped with SakOil. I guarded it like a jewel from Paradise. One afternoon after prayers, Ja'far told me that he had some im-

blue overalls and long leather boots and carried yellow

portant news. His Dad would no longer be working in the Safaniya field. He

safety helmets.

was being transferred to a new oil field in the middle of the Empty Quarter.

They were all enchanted for me, all heading for the mystical oil fields early in the morning and coming back at sunset. Out there they were subduing the earth, extracting oil, feeding those flares, discovering the impossible and mixing with Americans. In short, they were playing major roles on the world stage every day. And they weren't just setting light to those flares above the oil wells, they were providing fuel for our village as well. When they got back they were full of illuminating stories, stories I collected up in my mind as if they were relics of an immortal saint.

This meant that instead of boarding a fast boat he would be taking a plane owned by SakOil into the desert, translating him ever closer to heaven. I asked Dad that evening whether the flares we could see from our rooftop were in the middle of the sea or in the middle of the land. He replied with a laugh, his hands thrown up as if he was surrendering. "My boy, keep calm. One day you'll see them at our front door." "At our front door?" I almost shouted. He nodded, but he didn't say any more.

17

That night I dreamed about oil wells. I was up on the roof of our house singing the praises of the flares to a group of people down below, but I didn't recognize them. The flares came closer and closer, and I carried on praising them loudly like a devoted sorcerer. They flickered even brighter and came right up to me in a circular wave of stars and fire. I bent down to the closest flare and reached out to touch it. My hand pierced the flare smoothly. It felt so cold. I kept my hand within the flame. I dreamed of the oil wells many times after that night, and it seemed as if my dreams were coming true. As the oil fields developed, the wells sprung up nearer and nearer to our village. Ja'far moved to al-Dammam – his mother muttering about the dangers of asthma and bronchitis – but I didn't mind. Soon the wells were so close we could see the workers moving around the base, or climbing up to adjust the machinery. I was dreaming of the wells last night. My kid sister was coughing again, shaking and crying in the darkness as she struggled for air. She had woken up my mother as well, who came in with a drink of water and sat down beside her, stroking my sisters' hair and humming an old song. I lifted my head from the pillow. "Do you think father knows anyone who could help me find a job at SakOil?" I asked. She stopped singing and looked up. "Go to sleep," she said.

18

There was a time when animals and people lived on the earth harmoniously side by side. Each respected the other, and they went out of their way to be friendly and useful to each other. The elephant being the King of the animals decided one day that there should be a King of the Rivers and Marshes. He thought it would be useful to have somebody responsible for alerting people to the coming of the first rains, so that they would have time to get ready and start preparing their tools and seeds. The king of the animals sent out his trusted town cryer, the cockerel, with a message that any animal who wished to be considered should attend the King’s

To the flamingo he said: “Flamingo, you would be very good

court the following morning. The cockerel dutifully

for the post, you love being in the river, but I am afraid your

made his way all round the animal village, passing the

voice just is not loud enough. Nobody would hear you! I can’t

King’s messages to all and sundry. The next morning the

make you the king of rivers and marshes.” So flamingo was

elephant came into his court yard after having partaken

dismissed.

of his breakfast, and found a number of candidates for the post had gathered there. The cat was there, and the monkey. Toad and frog stood side by side, flamingo was there and the crab had also turned up. The elephant inspected each one of the candidates, and started weighing up their qualities for the position.

To the Crab he said: “My dear Crab. How could I make you the King?. You don’t even have a head! Where would we put your crown? You can’t be the king of the Rivers and Marshes, I’m afraid.” So crab was dismissed. That just left toad and frog. The elephant scratched his head with his trunk, “Fellows”, he said, “I can’t really make up my mind between the two of you. I am sure you would

To the cat he said: “Cat, you don’t even like water. You run away and hide at the first sight of rain. How can I make you the king of Rivers and Marshes?” So the cat was dismissed.

both be very good at the job, you both have wonderful voices. I

To the monkey he said: “Monkey, I am very happy to see you here, but you are so playful and forgetful, I am afraid you might forget your duties because you always put playing first. I can’t consider you for the position”. So monkey was dismissed.

court yard, and the first to get to the river bank will be

just can’t choose”. Then the cockerel suggested there could be a race to decide the issue. The king agreed immediately. “Let there be a race”, he proclaimed. “We will start here in the crowned king of the Rivers and Marshes!” And so the race was organised. The king, followed by a host of animals, made his way to the river bank so he could see with his own eyes who the winner would be. The cockerel remained in the court yard with the two contestants, so that 19

he could give the starting signal. When all was ready

tumbled all the way down to the bottom.

and in place, the cockerel let out a might screech, and toad and frog were off. They jumped and double jumped and triple jumped as fast and as long as they could. Toad was actually the quickest, and he had built up a small lead when suddenly he came to a halt. There in front of him was a wide and deep ditch. Toad could not remember it being there before, it must have been created during the last storm. Toad was not at all sure that he would be able to jump across. In the meantime frog had caught up with him, and also stopped. “Harrooh”, he exclaimed, “a little ditch, that’s nothing for me!” He took a mighty jump, using all the strength he had in his formidable hind legs, and comfortably made it to the other side. Toad knew he had to get across, so he took a deep breath, and used all his strength to jump, but poor toad, he just did not make it. He hit the side of the ditch, and

So Frog was the first one to reach the river bank and won the race. The elephant congratulated him, and he was duly crowned king of the Rivers and marshes. At his coronation, the king of all the animals, elephant, made a big speech. “Frog”, he said, “now that you are the King of the rivers and Marshes, your first duty is to announce the coming of the first rains, so that all the farmers can get ready to start doing their important work. You shall do this by singing you Croo Croo song as loud as you possibly can, and for as long as it takes to get the message to everybody!” That is the reason why to this day, when people hear the frog’s song, they are very happy, because they know that the dry season is over and the rain they need to grow their crops is on its way.

ANGRY About three week ago Jovenus of Biblio Junkie and I decided we would do a joint posting in honor of Malaysian Independence Day which is observed on August 31. I more or less got the idea for this project from Novroz' posting in honor of Indonesian Independence day on her blog , observed on August 17. I ended up doing a series of five posts on short stories by Indonesian women, all written in the 21th century. I really enjoyed doing this project and wanted to see if I could expand the idea to other countries. At the time I did a Google search on independence days worldwide to see how many South and South

East Asian countries observe an independence day. I noticed Malaysian Indepedence Day is observed August 31. I was very interested in posting on Malaysian literature in part because Malaysia is less than two hours away from my home in Manila. Also most historians see Malay culture as having a large influence on pre-colonial Filipino history. Jovenus has done a great overall post on Malaysia (for which she has a special knowledge and affinity) which explains the history of Malaysia and its struggle for independence. She also talks about some of the best known Malaysian 20

writers of today. I decided as my contri-

one rise in her, and thought of stopping for a mi-

bution to our project to post on five short stories

nute or two - which, she reminded herself; she

by contemporary Malaysian writers.

This will

had no time for, and marched straight on to-

This is my

wards the ticket counter. Then she heard Sa-

be done in a series of five posts. third post in the series.

mantha yowl. "I want a chocolate!"

Catalina Rembuyan, author of "Angry" and numerous other short stories works at and and is working on an advanced degree at the University of Malaysia.

"Angry" is a simple story

that any one who has ever walked their children

past the candy store window can directly relate to.

What parent from wherever you may be cannot relate to how trying this can be: Samantha gave one last bitter howl, a howl Anna thought would never end, howling and howling and filling the air with thick shame, until the howl turned into a whimper and Anna heard a sob. Moments later Anna heard another

Anna saw the chocolate shop. It was a

howl on her shoulder. Samuel had woken up and

very small shop, but it had all of the richest and

was bawling his heart out, confused and fright-

the tastiest chocolates that could be found in the

ened by the commotion, sensing the bitterness in

Klang Valley: chocolates coating raisin jelly, choc-

his mother's voice. Samuel's tears sparked more

olates coating more layers of chocolate coating

tears from Samantha and a fresh flow of tears

nuts, chocolates white and sweet, and chocolates

poured out of her eyes.

hidden in caramel shells. She felt an urge to grab 21

Today I pass the time reading a favorite haiku, saying the few words over and over.

It's the one about the one-ton temple bell

It feels like eating

with the moth sleeping on its surface,

the same small, perfect grape again and again.

and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating pressure of the moth

I walk through the house reciting it

on the surface of the iron bell.

and leave its letters falling

When I say it at the window,

through the air of every room.

the bell is the world

I stand by the big silence of the piano and say it.

and I am the moth resting there.

I say it in front of a painting of the sea.

When I say it at the mirror,

I tap out its rhythm on an empty shelf.

and the moth is life with its papery wings.

I listen to myself saying it,

And later, when I say it to you in the dark,

then I say it without listening, then I hear it without saying it.

I am the heavy bell

you are the bell, and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing you,

And when the dog looks up at me,

and the moth has flown

I kneel down on the floor

from its line

and whisper it into each of his long white ears.

and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed.

22

Ten years, dead and living dim and draw apart.

In a dream last night suddenly I was home.

I don’t try to remember,

You were combing your hair and making up.

By the window of the little room,

But forgetting is hard.

Lonely grave a thousand miles off,

You turned and looked, not speaking,

Cold thoughts, where can I talk them out?

Only lines of tears coursing down.

Even if we met, you wouldn’t know me,

Year after year will it break my heart?

Dust on my face,

The moonlit grave,

Hair like frost.

The stubby pines.

Azaleas When seeing me sickens you

With parting steps

and you walk out

on those strewn flowers

I'll send you off without a word, no fuss.

treading lightly, go on, leave. When seeing me sickens you

Yongbyon's mount Yaksan's

and you walk out

azaleas

why, I'd rather die than weep one tear.

by the armful I'll scatter in your path. 23

I live in Singapore

Come to Singapore,won't you try?

A small island set in the sea Near Indonesia,near Malaysia

Durian king,Esplanade

Would I ask for more?

Happy,happy all the way

Huge tall buildings roam the sky

Eat your burger on a tray

Merlion's water,out from mouth

In the waters,we will wade

All the way,to the south

The Iffiness of Rain There were summer months when

who probably made a little extra

my life was ruled by baseball and

money taking care of the town’s

the iffyness of rain.

roads and probably had a kid on the town’s little league team, too

My father would drive us to a ball field in the wilderness which was

.I remember once sitting with my

just a pasture flat enough for us

father in our Buick waiting for a drizzle

to play on. I say wilderness

to clear up. We were parked nose

because my world at the time was

in on first base side at a field I had

limited to distances I could ride on

never seen before and to this day

my bike and these places were in the

have never seen again. The weather

boondocks and way off the edges of

man Don Kent had said the rain would

my known ground.

continue all weekend, so my mother said she had better things to do.

These fields had no grandstands

We sat and listened to the Red Sox

but did have outfields rimmed

game, but they were in a rain-delay

by snow fences donated by a guy

in Boston, too. 24

Boston seemed like the center of

the world to me and we were parked in the opposite direction on the world’s

Umbra

very edge. A car with a boy and a girl who snuggled up to him on

Everything is faint tonight.

the front seat, drove straight out over

By dint of a gloomy room

second base, skirted the snow fence

or a crescent moon...?

in left field and disappeared down

a dirt road into the woods. A couple of cars tooted, but that was it. When the rain grew stronger, cars

My heart is sad and tired. Like a dew drop on a frond, Will you be disappearing soon...?

began leaving piecemeal. Finally, a man on the other side of the field got out of his car, put a Coleman cooler back in his trunk and waved his ball cap at my father. Still we

waited. Only when the radio said the Sox game at the center of the

Last Love

world was cancelled, did my father take the book of blank score cards off the dashboard and flip it onto the back seat. We drove away from the field on a dirt track with pot holes

filling up with water. How could anyone have thought we’d get a

Best of friends

kindly

together took a leap

Never never too late

Now true friends

to love but not blindly

ahh! feelings run deep

game in with weather like this?

Two hearts fused

When the radio station stopped

hands ever entwined

talking baseball and began playing music, my father turned it off.

Ti's all worth the wait

to care for one as

So, to you my friend first, my last love, i say I'll be true every and each of my waking day! 25

The Longing Freedom. How her spirit Haunts, Hooks, Entices us all! Freedom, Will the time come For my ideas to roam Across this vast land’s deserts, Through the caverns of the Empty Quarter? For my voice to be sent forth, Crying out in the stillness of a quiet people, A voice among the voiceless? For my thoughts, that hurl around In a never-ending spiral, To settle Mature, grow and flourish In a barren wasteland of shackled minds? Will my spirit be set free— To soar above the undulating palm fronds? Will my essence and heart be unfettered, Forever Freed, Of man-made Thou Shall Nots?

If I Were an Elephant Across the Serengeti plain our matriarch would lead, Dining on the guarri fruit, and gum acacia seeds. Upon our sweet green namesake grass our bellies we would fill, I'd visit with my mother's bones, nap in the northern hills. We'd cross the Mara river, then the southern rains would fall, We'd see the African spoonbill, and hear the weaverbird call. We'd care for all the young ones, and with my sisters I would roam, Victoria Lake... But then I'd wake, give up my dreams of home. I'd bust my cage, I'd smash the door, and trample all around, If I was an elephant, I'd tear the circus down.

Love Mother Malaysia Mother Malaysia cries for moderation To unite her sons of diverse races Bonded in her sacred Constitution Sealed with a vision of visionaries: Heartbeat of Malaysian Independence Harmonious people living a destiny Fathered by peace-champions of prudence Charted a future in a land of opportunity Freed from colonialism and insurgency ‘Jalur Gemilang' raised, we stood proud Locked hands, blood-sweated, tilled this land of glory Tin, rubber, paddy, and business: wealth wrought ‘Negara Ku' united sons: ploughed morrow's victory Fast-stepped fifty-seven years birthing prosperity One Nation, One People, thriving democratically Unique diversity, weaved in sociocultural unity Community-knitting earned a heaven, politically

26

Life in Joviality Many say that in order to move forward in life, one must grow up. It is an undeniable fact that one's childhood, his or her past, is a great and one of the most essential time of his or her life. Just like everyone else, I, too, had a childhood. When I was young, my life was fun and games. I used to go out a lot and play with my cousins and friends which happen to be my neighbors also. We used to play piko, tumbang preso, langit lupa, hide-and-seek, and the like. I remember my mother always complaining as I go home soaked in sweat. Nevertheless, joy was truly marked in my face. When I was young, I used to wait and listen for the sweet call of the taho vendor and when it finally came, I rush to my mother or father to ask for a 1-peso or a 5-peso coin. Together with other kids, we sit outside enjoying our scrumptious taho. When I was young, problems were only about having bruises because I tripped while running. Sometimes, it is about not being allowed to play outside and I cry. When I was young, I was immature. When I was young, life was easy. Life was full of joy. Life was fun. But now I'm older. I still play outside with my cousins and friends but not that often anymore. Now that I'm older, I became more careful of my actions. I became wiser. I am in the stage of growing up. Life is not as easy as before. Obstacles come and go so often. Now that I am older, the days I spent during my childhood are now memories. But these memories take a great place in my heart. These memories have shaped me. I am who I am because of my childhood. Thus, I will never ever forget my childhood. I will never forget my life in joviality.

Confessions Of A Former Fat Kid The slap of my mother’s hand against my bare stomach rings out and fills the entire store. I watch as my belly jiggles in the mirror mounted on the large column in front of us. We’re surrounded by racks of cheap clothes in terrible colors. In the mirror, my mother looks me right in the eyes, her other hand pinning my shirt up to expose my midriff. “If you weren’t getting so fat, I wouldn’t have to buy you new clothes,” she says. My skin stings as the red mark of her hand fades. I pull my shirt back down and refuse to cry. We’re at a Stuart’s in Athol, Massachusetts. Stuart’s was like Walmart for poor communities in New England back before Walmart realized it should be Walmart for poor communities in New England (and everywhere else). I am 8 years old.

Growing. Getting bigger. When we lived in Boston, my father would go for runs through the city as I rode my bike beside him, trying to keep up. But Dad stayed in Boston and Ma and I moved out to north central Massachusetts. “You’ll have a yard,” Ma said, and I pretended to be happy. I tried to play in the yard, but it didn’t make up for the lack of bike rides. Or the Chef Boyardee for dinner most nights, or the pasta and butter with a side of bread on the others. Ma had been bigger too, when she was younger, and she wanted so badly to save me from the same fate. It didn’t help that now we were living next to her parents in rural Massachusetts, in a town she’d promised herself she would escape, a town she had successfully escaped up until she hadn’t. 27

Now we lived in the gray house next to her parents in the town where she had been a big girl. Now my mom lived with her son but without her husband, who had to stay in the city because “there aren’t enough jobs out here,” which I found strange because there seemed to be plenty of jobs and “no jobs” didn’t explain why Ma cried most nights and why her ma, my grandma, looked at me like I was the garbage someone forgot to take out. I’d sneak bowls of cereal when no one was home, pouring sugar and honey on the off-brand Cheerios pretending they were the Honey Nut kind, the kind my other grandma — who lived near the ocean and never looked at me like I was trash — always fed me. I would wash the bowl before Ma got home from work. Ma would cry and I would hug her and do the only thing I knew how to do, which was not cry. The same way I don’t cry under the fluorescent lights at Stuart’s, surrounded by clothes that don’t fit and we can’t afford. It’s summer, I’m 16 years old, and I’m the skinniest I’ve ever been, thanks to a diet of running, cigarettes, and snorted Ritalin (usually) and Adderall (when I can get my hands on it). Most days I drive my mother’s three-colored car (all different shades of blue) to Gardner, Massachusetts, the closest town with any downtown to speak of, where I have a job at a Friendly’s washing dishes. At the beginning of the summer, the weight seemed to fall off me. But right up until that moment I’d been all the terrible euphemisms that were so much worse than simply being called fat: “husky,” “chunky,” “portly,” “big-boned,” “plump.” Words ingrained in my fabric. They were a part of me, which is probably why, when the weight disappeared, I didn’t even notice that it was gone. I kept to myself at Friendly’s. I listened to bad rap as I scraped ice cream out of sticky glass containers, the industrial washer making the air wet, my bleach-blonde hair sticking to my forehead. When I dragged giant garbage bags of half-eaten hamburgers to the large metal bins behind the building, I’d take breaks to smoke damp Newports alone. Most of the waitresses were older than my mother, sneaking food home to their kids and husbands, but a few of them were my age, working for the summer. They’d smile at me in ways that no girls had before. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why. One day, a young waitress comes up to me and says, “I’m having a party.” Her name tag reads “Tracy” and she is the prettiest human to talk to me in months.

It’s also when I realize that my weight and how I perceive myself aren’t at all related. I still feel fat. Ugly. Unattractive. Every time I look in the mirror I can still see my mother’s red handprint fading to white as my belly shakes. Hunter’s words ring in my ears, a confusing mix of pride and shame taking hold. “Not so fat” means I still am fat, that I used to be more so. It means fat is bad and getting skinnier is good, no matter how I actually feel about myself. We learn so many lessons in high school, most of them terrible. I carry Hunter’s words in my head like a medal or a trophy. One that burns me as I hold it, even as I refuse to put it down. When it comes to body-image issues, we are all in our own personal hells. And my hell is but a flickering Bic lighter when compared with others. But that’s the thing about hells: Comparing them does not lead you to the exit door of your own. Even as I grew older, matured, found somewhat more stable relationships, even as my weight fluctuated, my sense of self never did. Not once did I like what I saw in the mirror whenever I saw myself in it. When I moved to New York City at the age of 30, a little over two years ago, the harsh East Coast winters crashed into my slowing metabolism. I gained 40 pounds. It didn’t help that I stopped smoking cigarettes (recently), doing dip (long ago), and putting study drugs up my nose (thank god). I also started riding my bike to work and running half marathons, so it wasn’t all just cutting out the bad, but also trying to up the good. Which is to say, of course, sometimes I am still dissatisfied with my body — there are days the pants don’t zip up without a fight, and it doesn’t help that every one of my co-workers looks like a model or CW star. But I don’t spend nearly as much time hating myself as I did when I was younger. I don’t fall headlong into that pit; I just can’t, or won’t. I’ve wasted way too much youth on self-hatred as it is. It’s been 25 years since I was 8 years old in a Stuart’s in Massachusetts, and 17 years since I realized I don’t truly see myself when I look into a mirror. But now I no longer grab a T-shirt directly after sex, and when I do see my own reflection, I work hard to not be hard on what I see. To just see a person, rather than an assemblage of shit that needs to be fixed. I try to be OK with that person, even when — just sometimes — I glimpse the imprint of a hand, fading from red to white.

“What’s that?” I say, removing my headphones, Eminem mixing with the clanging of the dishwasher. “I said I’m having a party and you should come. You know, a house party.” It’s one of those moments so improbable that I must be imagining it — but also so wonderful, so hoped for and delicious and exactly like the kind of ’90s teen movie I never thought I’d get to be in except maybe as a chubby extra, that I desperately want it to be real. I’d never been invited to a party by a girl before. Though I’d been drinking and doing drugs since I was 12, to me parties meant slamming beers alone in the woods, or slamming beers with my male friends in the woods until we became brave or stupid enough to fight each other. We’d pair off, throwing fists into each other’s faces until blood burst from our noses, lips, and once, only once, this guy Mike’s eye. My friends, all skinny, always with their shirts off even before the fighting started. Me always with my shirt firmly on, keeping covered, trying to wash the bloodstains out the next day. dress.

Tracy scribbles on her order pad and hands me her ad“Bring something fun,” she says, and walks away. That summer, I lose my virginity.

28

Alphaville Winter's cityside Crystal bits of snowflakes All around my head and in the wind I had no illusions That I'd ever find a glimpse Of summer's heatwaves in your eyes You did what you did to me Now it's history, I see Here's my comeback on the road again Things will happen while they can I will wait here for my man tonight It's easy when you're big in Japan Aah when you're big in Japan -tonight Big in Japan-be-tight Big in Japan ooh the eastern sea's so blue Big in Japan-alright Pay! - Then I'll sleep by your side Things are easy when you're big in Japan Oh when you're big in Japan

nequins Shall I stay here at the zoo Or should I go and change my point of view For other ugly scenes You did what you did to me Now it's history I see Here's my comeback on the road again Things will happen while they can I will wait here for my man tonight It's easy when you're big in Japan Aah when you're big in Japan -tonight Big in Japan-be-tight Big in Japan ooh the eastern sea's so blue Big in Japan-alright, pay! Then I'll sleep by your side Things are easy when you're big in Japan

Neon on my naked skin, passing silhouettes Of strange illuminated man29

Love Love Love

跨越 101 那是理想标地

没答案 没答案 真爱在哪

Kua yue yi ling yi na shi li xiang biao di

Mei da an mei da an zhen ai zai na

我的眼神里 不时透露着讯息

我的爱 我的爱 难道是他

Wo de yan shen li bu shi tou lou zhe xun xi

Wo de ai wo de ai nan dao shi ta

我的心 Love Love Love

用力想 用力想 没有回答

Wo de xin Love Love Love

Yong li xiang yong li xiang mei you hui da 百分百 恋爱 会是理想 Bai fen bai lian ai hui shi li xiang

恋爱百分百 其实知道你的心 Lian ai bai fen bai qi shi zhi dao ni de xin

每个女孩都在期待 完美的爱情

不得不相信 幸福就在附近

Mei ge nu hai dou zai qi dai wan mei de ai qing

Bu de bu xiang xin xing fu jiu zai fu jin

小心翼翼又陷下去 聪明糊涂心 Xiao xin yi yi you xian xia qu cong ming hu tu xin

有一点暧昧 偷偷独自的开心

我的完美真命天子 难道是你

You yi dian ai mei tou tou du zi de kai xin

Wo de wan mei zhen ming tian zi nan dao shi ni 塔罗牌的 答案很诡异 Ta luo pai de da an hen gui yi 你的距离和我只差零点几毫米

整个世界 Love Love Love Zheng ge shi jie Love Love Love

Ni de ju li he wo zhi cha ling dian ji hao mi

你的距离和我只差零点几毫米

我的睫毛像在剪辑你一言一行

Ni de ju li he wo zhi cha ling dian ji hao mi

Wo de jie mao xiang zai jian ji ni yi yan yi xing

我的睫毛像在剪辑你一言一行

我能感应彼此心跳是一样频率 Wo neng gan ying bi ci xin tiao shi yi yang pin lue 满分爱情透过念力距离又拉近 Man fen ai qing tou guo nian li ju li you la jin

Wo de jie mao xiang zai jian ji ni yi yan yi xing 我能感应彼此心跳是一样频率 Wo neng gan ying bi ci xin tiao shi yi yang pin lue

恋爱百分百 其实在意你的心

Lian ai bai fen bai qi shi zai yi ni de xin 30

Stay With Me When I close my eyes I see those eyes My heart kept aching So I wanted to forget If this is a dream, please let me wake up Are you really my destiny? Falling you Like destiny, falling You’re calling out to me, calling I can’t escape Please hold me

Are you the line of my fate? Are you the one I’ve been waiting for? Why is my heart sinking?

My heart is racing I’m still looking at you Because I keep running out of breath I’m still watching over you From far away Why am I being like this? Different from the moment I first saw you This time of fate is passing slowly My heart was heading towards you My heart was racing again The faint light was turned off But my eyes are lighting up again because of you Feels like I’ve loved you from a long time ago Feels like I’m being pulled by something

(Stay with me) Are you living Deep in my heart? (Stay with me) The truth hidden in me

When I close my eyes I see those eyes

When I close my eyes I see those eyes

(If this is a dream) If this is a dream, please let me wake up (it’s not a dream) (Maybe you are) Are you really my destiny? (If you are my destiny) Falling you

My heart kept aching So I wanted to forget If this is a dream, please let me wake up Are you really my destiny? Falling you

My heart kept aching So I wanted to forget

31

Song For Singapore It's a brand new day a brand new story I remembered the way it used to be We've come so far You're my history you're my beginning In all I've done I've been nurtured in your arms And you carried me this far Chorus: I want to sing Sing a song for Singapore With every generation there's more to be grateful for So come and sing Sing a song for Singapore You're my brother you're my sister I'm thankful for my Singapore My Singapore Singapore

Come together everybody Fly the flag and share our story Live our wildest dreams Celebrate the red and white The moon and stars in harmony unite Let every colour every heart

Chorus: I want to sing Sing a song for Singapore With every generation there's more to be grateful for So come and sing Sing a song for Singapore You're my brother you're my sister I'm thankful for my Singapore My Singapore Singapore Bridge: We've had our ups and downs Sometimes the best things are taken for granted You're my family you're my home Chorus: I want to sing Sing a song for Singapore With every generation there's more to be grateful for So come and sing Sing a song for Singapore You're my brother you're my sister I'm thankful for my Singapore My Singapore 32

(If This Ain’t Love) Holding you closer It's time that I told you Everything's going to be fine Know that you're leaving And try to belive it Take me one step at a time If this ain't love Why does it feel so good? If this ain't love Why does it feel so good? Think of tomorrow We beg, steal or borrow To make all we can in the sun While we are moving The music is soothing Troubles we all have begun

Boy will ya? Just for this lifetime You can be my past time Here are the rules of our play In it together Till I know you better Darling, Darling What do you say? If this ain't love Why does it feel so good? If this ain't love Why does it feel so good? If this ain't love Why does it feel so good?

If this ain't love Why does it feel so good? If this ain't love Why does it feel so good? Will you remember me boy? Remember me 33

Lan Ma kwe` Kyay Hold me in your arms, Love me like your best friends did, Promise, I won't hurt you kid, Hold me really tight until the stars look big, Never let me go.All the world is ours, Like they say in Scarface kid, You can push your drugs and I can make it big, Singing CB Jeebies have a real good gig, Hey you never know.Cause baby we were born to live fast and die young, Born to be bad, have fun, Honey, you and me can be one, Just believe, come on.If you love me hardcore, then don't walk away, It's a game boy, I don't wanna play, I just wanna be yours, Like I always say, Never let me go.Boy, we're in a world war, Let's go all the way, Put your foot to the floor, Really walk away, Tell me that you need me more and more everyday, Never let me go, just stay.We gonna go far, I can already taste it kid, LA's gonna look real good, Drive me in your car until the sky gets big, Never let me go.Send me to the stars, Tell me when I get there kid, I can be your Nancy, You can be my Sid, Get into some trouble like our parents did,

Hey, they'll never know,Cause baby we were born to be bad, Move on, Built to go fast, Stay strong, Honey, you and me and no one, Just believe, Come on.If you love me hardcore, then don't walk away, It's a game boy, I don't wanna play, I just wanna be yours, Like I always say, Never let me go.Boy, we're in a world war, Let's go all the way, Put your foot to the floor, Really walk away, Tell me that you need me more and more everyday, Never let me go, just stay.I remember when I saw you for the first time, You were laughing, Sparking like a new dime, I came over, "Hello, can you be mine?" Can you be mine, Can you be mine?If you love me hardcore, then don't walk away, It's a game boy, I don't wanna play, I just wanna be yours, Like I always say, Never let me go.Baby it's a sweet life, Sing it like a song, It's a short trip, 34

"Ang Huling El Bimbo" Kamukha mo si Paraluman Nung tayo ay bata pa At ang galing galing mong sumayaw Mapa boogie man o cha cha Ngunit ang paborito Ay ang pagsayaw mo ng El Bimbo Nakakaindak, nakakaaliw Nakakatindig balahibo Pagkaggaling sa eskwela Ay dideretso na sa inyo At buong maghapon ay tinuturuan mo ako Magkahawak ang ating kamay At walang kamalaymalay Na tinuruan mo ang puso ko Na umibig ng tunay Naninigas ang aking katawan Kapag umikot na ang plaka Patay sa kembot ng beywang mo At pungay ng yong mga mata Lumiliwanag ang buhay Habang tayo'y magkaakbay At dahang dahang dumudulas Ang kamay ko sa makinis mong braso Sana noon pa man ay sinabi na sa iyo At kahit hindi na uso ay ito lang ang alam ko

Magkahawak ang ating kamay At walang kamalaymalay Na tinuruan mo ang puso ko Na umibig ng tunay La la la la la... At lumipas ang maraming taon Hindi na tayo nagkita Balita ko'y may anak ka na Ngunit walang asawa Tagahugas ka raw ng pinggan sa may Ermita At isang gabi'y nasagasaan sa isang madilim na eskenita Lahat ng pangarap ko'y bigla lang natunaw Sa panaginip na lang pala kita maisasayaw Magkahawak ang ating kamay At walang kamalaymalay Na tinuruan mo ang puso ko Na umibig ng tunay Magkahawak ang ating kamay At walang kamalaymalay Na tinuruan mo ang puso ko Na umibig ng tunay La la la la la....

35

What are You? What are you? Is it not enough that you hurt me? Shame on you What are you? Why, my love, don't my tears mean anything to you? And why do I accept that you hurt me when my soul is in you Why am I accepting this torment in your hands? If this is love, love causes me so much misery And if I am to blame, I cannot say never again And if it's my destiny to live in torment I'll live in torment Have you no shame? Have you no shame, deceiving me with the love I have for you Isn't it a shame? The passion and the years and longing that I am living for you? Was it lost completely? Or has it been a game? Was the tenderness and my heart and faith in you all wasted?If this is love, then love is so much misery And if I am to blame, I cannot say "never again" And if it's my destiny to live in torment I'll live in torment

36

Toto come I hear the drums echoing tonight But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation She's coming in, twelve-thirty flight The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation I stopped an old man along the way Hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies He turned to me as if to say, "Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you" It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do I bless the rains down in Africa Gonna take some time to do the things we never had

The wild dogs cry out in the night As they grow restless, longing for some solitary company I know that I must do what's right As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti I seek to cure what's deep inside, frightened of this thing that I've be-

It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do I bless the rains down in Africa Gonna take some time to do the things we never had Hurry boy, she's waiting there for you It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do I bless the rains down in Africa I bless the rains down in Africa (I bless the rain) I bless the rains down in Africa (I bless the rain) I bless the rains down in Africa I bless the rains down in Africa (Ah, gonna take the time) Gonna take some time to do the things we never had

37

Prashan Sean and Navin Anbe Aaruyire

( English Verse 1 ) When you were by my side, I never thought about it girl, Now im standing in the dark, I never meant to make you cry, You’ve got me caught in your world.. ( I don’t want to let go girl ) ( Tamil verse 1 ) Piriyum naatkalil yen ninaivugal unnai vanthu searum, Kaathal kadithanggal un ninaivu chinnanggal.. aa.. Valzvin silanodi, yen kaathalai neeyum unarnthida, Un varugayai yenni kaathiruppean.. Vaanil Nilavaipol yen valvil neeyum utdhiththida, Un swasa kaatrinil naan meendum piranthean..aa.. Thei pirai poi valar pirai varum naal unde, Andru yen isai nammai inaithidumae… ( Chorus ) Anbe aaruyirae nee indri vazha vali yeathu, Kaathale yen Kaathale nee yennai vittu pirivayoo Azhage perazhalage un azhagai paada mozhi yeathu, Thozhiye uyir thozhiye yen manathai neeyum arivayoo.. Anbe aaruyirae nee indri vazha vali yeathu, Kaathale yen Kaathale nee yennai vittu pirivayoo Azhage perazhalage un azhagai paada mozhi yeathu,

Thozhiye uyir thozhiye yen manathai neeyum arivayoo.. ( English Verse 2 ) Wish i could hold you tight, And hope start over again.., I miss your lovely touch, Never meant to say those lies, And i need one last chance… ( I don’t want to let go girl ) ( Rap verse 1 ) This music got its remedy, To turn things upright if you feelin’ me, Forgive me babe, mistakes are made, Never meant to make to feel this way, I never meant to say the things i said, I’m all you need don’t throw me keep, I see it now.. I see it Say the word and i will leap.. Yen theavai neethane, Valiyil thudiyai thuditthenae, Kavippaadal isaithenae, Unnul Inaya thavitthenae And i never meant to make you cry, Never meant to hurt those beautiful eyes, I’m blind, without your sight, Come home girl, and never say BYE.. ( Chorus ) Anbe aaruyirae nee indri vazha vali yeathu, Kaathale yen Kaathale nee yennai vittu pirivayoo 38

Japanese Quotations 



“What a strange thing!

feelings out. The scary thing is not being able to

to be alive

do that. Then your feelings build up and harden

beneath cherry blossoms.”

and die inside. That's when you're in big trou-

I let the world take care of itself.



ble.”

“Too lazy to be ambitious, 

“It's a saying they have, that a man has a false

Ten days' worth of rice in my bag;

heart in his mouth for the world to see, another

a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.

in his breast to show to his special friends and

Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?

his family, and the real one, the true one, the se-

Listening to the night rain on my roof,

cret one, which is never known to anyone except

I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.

to himself alone, hidden only God knows where.”

“Every once in a while she'll get worked up and



cry like that. But that's ok. She's letting her

“Living in a world such as this is like dancing on a live volcano.”

Chinese Quotations 

“The Master said, “A true gentleman is one who has set his heart upon the Way. A fellow who is ashamed merely of shabby clothing or modest meals is not even worth conversing with.”



“In the dust of defeat as well as the laurels of victory there is a glory to be found if one has done his best.”



“Only desperation can account for what the Chinese do in the name of 'medicine.' That's something you might remind your New Age friends

who've gone gaga over 'holistic medicine' and 'alternative Chinese cures.” 

“China is a big country, inhabited by many Chinese. ”



“Living in China has made me appreciate my own country, with its tiny, ethnically diverse population of unassuming donut-eaters.”

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Korean Quotations 

“Novels are food for the leftover hours of life, the in-between times, the moments of waiting.”



“Why does nothing change, even when you set out for a faraway place?”



“The only thing worse than losing hope is to be the reason someone else loses hope.”



“Love has different shape, like this falling snow in winter”



Thai Quotations 

“I spent thirty-three years in another man's shadow. I went everywhere he went, I helped him with everything he did. I was in a sense a part of him. When you live like that for a long time, you gradually lose track of what it is you yourself really want out of life”



Seriously, just have the gonads to quote yourself! ^__^”



“If a picture is worth a thousand words, why did God invent captions?”



“No sun cream or condoms, just in case you’re looking at the lady-boys. There’s plenty of AIDS lingering about and every STD you can imagine.”



“I didn't get the impression that the policeman cared much about the whole thing either. After another thirty minutes of ruthless interrogation ('Can you ve'fy you eat banan' pancake?') he let me go asking me not to leave Khao San within 24 hours”

“Too young for Korea, too old for Vietnam.”

Singaporean Quotations 

Singapore has been incredibly well-managed. It was created out of the swamp, with a strong emotional idea: a safe place for mostly Chinese, but accepting other cultures and other races.



Singapore is a pretty fantastic place, and the race is always a challenge.



Through the outreach that I have done, through platforms, I hope to unify Singaporeans because at the end of the day, Singapore is our home. We share a common destiny, and I think all of us work together for the benefit of our country.



I was very impressed with the street food of Singapore. I was very impressed with the dishes that they did.



I went to a private school in Singapore and they had an incredible arts program. Every day I was doing something artistic.

Quotations from Myanmar 

“An empowered government, supported by the people, in turn empowers its people.”



“I want our country to be a sanctuary any of our people can return to and bring their talents back.”



“Our country used to be isolated. Now we are getting back to our right place in the world.”



“You have to pinch yourself to remember that it’s not yet three years that Aung San Suu Kyi walked away from house arrest. To see her here in debate is marvellous.”



“All the boats in ASEAN will rise with the tide. We will all look to each other to learn. We will all look to each other to invest.”

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Filipino Quotations 



The significant burden of Independence Day is that  membership in the community of free nations is to be maintained only by a close adherence to the basic imperative of self-help rooted in self-respect. To start with and do less is to impugn our capacity and  vitiate our right to the status and stature of freedom."

"I end with the proud declaration of the truth that the Philippines is irrevocably a land of freedom. The love for freedom is the outstanding trait of the Filipino." "We Filipinos cannot look back to our heroic ancestors for specific guidance. All that we can learn is that they were united in a common struggle. Their technology cannot guide us, but their resolution, their courage, their patience and, more than anything else, their willingness to sacrifice everything, including honor itself for the country, for the people, will show us the way."

"Now, after ten years, let us look back over the road we have traveled. Let us take stock of ourselves. What have we done with that independence for which we waited so long? Let us look clearly and honestly at the record. I can tell you how I feel about it. I can tell you that I am proud of my race, that I am  proud of my generation, that I am proud of the nation we created in so short a time and in the face of such tremendous odds."

"We cannot improve government – except by wiping corruption out of our public life. We cannot have peace and stability – except by stamping out crime and rebellion."

African Quotations

Arabian Quotations 









“The professor stared straight ahead. He felt Husam's eyes upon him. He clenched his hands together tightly, lest their shaking reveal everything.”



Learning expands great souls.



To get lost is to learn the way



By crawling a child learns to stand

“The route to his hotel had been committed to memory a long time ago. From the overflowing trashcan on the corner to the feral cats that frequented the dumpsters behind the nearby shawarma shop, Jamison knew every detail.”



If you close your eyes to facts, you will learn through accidents.



Wealth, if you use it, comes to an end; learning, if you use it, increases.

“As he stretched out his legs, Siraj let out a deep sigh and smiled. I wonder what Prince Bahir’s blonde surprise will be wearing. I'm guessing it won't be a habiya.” “My biggest fear is that the enlightened Arab thinkers are gong to leave the Arab world in search of fresh air: somewhere far away from the sword of the religious authorities.”

Malaysian Quotations 

“We detest any form of violence related to religion, or ideology or race.”



“To develop the human capital, we want our citizens to be fully equipped with knowledge, practice good moral values, have a broad mind, love the country and possess the physical and spiritual strength,”



“Sometimes if there is too much freedom exercised then democracy will be destroyed,”



“the only way to deal effectively with the scourge of international terrorism.”



“It is not appropriate at all for the money to be spent on someone’s retirement. It is over the top,”

“The Al Saud believe they have an asset more powerful than the ballot box: they have Allah.”

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http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewshortstory.asp? AuthorID=97811&id=63966 https://sites.google.com/site/thingsmyanmar/a-princess-returns-home http://kathangpinoy.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-father-goes-to-court-bycarlos.html https://www.theguardian.com/books/2011/apr/18/oil-field-mohammedhasan-alwan-story http://fairytalesoftheworld.com/quick-reads/frog-came-king-rivers-marshes/ http://rereadinglives.blogspot.com/2010/09/angry-by-catalina-rembuyanmalaysian.html https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/japan/ http://www.chinawhisper.com/top-10-classic-chinese-love-poems/ http://anthony.sogang.ac.kr/Favorites.htm https://allpoetry.com/poems/about/Singapore http://forrestgreenwood.blogspot.com/ https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/_umbra_806801 http://10poemsthatwrittenbyfilipinos.blogspot.com/

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http://www.universeofpoetry.org/saudi_arabia.shtml https://www.poetrysoup.com/poems/best/africa https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-mother-malaysia/ http://www.lyricsfreak.com/a/alphaville/big+in+japan_20006826.html http://www.chineselyrics4u.com/2013/11/love-love-love-jolin-tsai-lovelove.html https://colorcodedlyrics.com/2016/12/chanyeol-exo-punch-stay-with-me http://www.lyricsfreak.com/c/corrinne+may/ song+for+singapore_20461585.html http://www.anysonglyrics.com/lyrics/s/spiller/groove.htm http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/eraserheads/anghulingelbimbo.html http://www.arabicmusictranslation.com/

http://www.lyricsfreak.com/t/toto/africa_20139798.html http://retamil.com/anbe-aaruyire-song-lyrics-mugen-rao/ http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/japan http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/china http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/thailand https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2013/06/top-10-quotes-from-myanmar-day-3/ http://www.rappler.com/newsbreak/iq/96159-quotes-philippine-presidents-independence-day http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/saudi-arabia http://afritorial.com/the-best-72-african-wise-proverbs/ http://thinkexist.com/quotes/top/nationality/malaysian/

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