Anyway, Sarawakian Dayaks actually originate from Kalimantan. As time went, and the eventual creation of the Malaysian-Indonesian boundary, cultures grew apart yet still retained certain similarities like language and custom. And he is a Dayak from Putussibau, Kapuas Hulu. He mentioned that he’s race is somewhat similar to the Ibans, and they are mostly farmers and merchants. My first time meeting a Dayak from Kalimantan. We tend to stereotype Indonesians as being the same, but those in Kalimantan are as diverse if not more than Sarawak is.

Malaysia doesn’t allow dual citizenship. But in his case, he has identity cards from both countries, making him a Malaysian and an Indonesian. A legal headache I guess, but here’s the reason why. When the border was created between Malaysia and Indonesia, their area was somehow stuck somehwere in between. Supposedly they should be within the Sarawak boundary but who knows? Like he said, in the morning we send our kids to school in Malaysia, then we go back to Indonesia. If you want to take a swim in the river, you go down to Malaysia again. Weird, as if the vast distances don’t matter.

Culturally different yet the same. But one thing I know is that the Kalimantan Dayaks are extremely pro-Dayak. They are very protective when it comes to their identity. I got all this from one guy, so maybe I’m wrong. Sadly, they’ve also been left out of development. The stark contrast of Jakarta’s skyscrapers and Kalimantan’s destroyed forests mirror the difference between KL and Telang Usan. Granted it’s not as bad, but still unacceptable nonetheless.

Secession is legally impossible. But sometimes, everyone wonders at that possibility…

When the past 20 years of your life is a lie, even if there were great moments, things change. I see the world differently now. I’ve grown more cynical, sometimes edging towards bitterness, looking at things that always seem ephemeral. I can never respect someone who knowingly and consensually does something that would destroy those around them. Just because you’re 30 doesn’t make it any more easier to swallow the fact that things turned 360. Little kids, what do they know? The claustrophobia of being in the middle of two huge presence in your life since infancy, waging a war that was never yours to begin with. They’d like to think that their actions wouldn’t change the people around them. But the poisonous words, the acid remarks, the rotting emotions emanating from all the ‘goodwill’ going on, how could no one be affected by it? Even a blind man can feel.

I mock myself for my sentimentality, remembering a past that isn’t worth the effort.  But the past makes you. Like it or not, the past is with you. Maybe the scars are still fresh, maybe I haven’t expended my emotions totally to feel like the brunt of it has immunized me.

Two years later, things have settled down, but nothing much’s changed. They still can’t talk to each other. One is still nursing a festering wound, clinging to a double edged lifeline that might prove to be the next downfall. The other ostensibly moving on, presumably happy, trying to make amends, but some how a bit too late. Lies stick, lies from a respected figure sticks forever. The fact that you look me in the eye and lied? That’s no justification for the greater good, just cowardice.

Here I am telling you one thing, and making a choice that somehow contradicts these feelings. I’m a mixed bag of emotions, flying from one end to the other.

I am constantly reminded of what was, and what is. The stark reality of it is ever present in the mundane routine I go through every day. After while it numbs the senses, and soon I can no longer see the distractions. But alone with my thoughts, other preoccupations gone, introspection begins. That’s when on those cold, quiet nights, out on the balcony I glimpse a scene from the past, and dwell on a broken fairytale.

It’s always when I think I’ve forgotten, I cease to forget.

Like the recent actions of PEMBELA, who declared jihad on Christians because apparently, we’re oversteping our boundaries and asking for too much, especially the Allah issue. No one takes them seriously. A fringe group of extremist probably put up by someone just to stir things up. Seeing how it’s a non issue in the first place (Sarawak being a Christian majority state and we use the word Allah extensively, but they contend that Malaysia is Tanah Islam, which seem to suggest Sarawak as a different country. Hey, ask any Sarawakian. We ain’t Malaysian dude lol), it’s just reeks of desperation and how low we’ve sunk when it comes to the uses of freedom of expression.

Tolerance, they preach. That would suggest tolerating someone, as in bear with it, just because someone is different. Sometimes, I secretly feel proud when someone mistakes my racial identity. Because I work in a halal cafe, serving lepeh cuisine, I must be Malay. But I speak Mandarin, and look Chinese. Rojak then. Hey, I don’t mind. Most people enjoy rojak, kan?

What about integration? Not those faux, RTM adverts with multiracial friends doing their best to stereotype themselves hanging out in a mamak shop. Real integration. Like abolishing Chinese and Tamil vernacular schools but creating a third language option in national schools. Why not abolish UiTM for that matter? It reeks of racial polarisation nowadays. Actually any public U or school is.

You’d think living in a state with so many races would actually foster good relations. People like saying how Sarawak is so multiracial and tolerant, with so much less racism than lepehland. It looks different from where I stand. Yes it’s not as dire as lepehland. But it is getting more polarised. Because the truth is, when a Kenyah say he is friends with a Bidayuh, it’s not that racially different. The Dayaks progenitors are from Kalimantan Barat, and the cultures, due to isolation and vast distances, evolved exclusively. Yet it still retains certain similarities.

The question to ask is how many Chinese or Malay friends do they have? Over here, it’s the “oppressed” Dayaks versus the Chinese and the Malays. So we’re back to the same lepehland dynamics (the Indians are negligable because they are an extreme minority here). An example would be how a friend of mine, an Indian, born and raised in Sabah, ask for a job position in Boulevard. The answer? Indians are lazy. So call it the infiltration of lepeh racial culture, but we know better. It’s always us against them. The Dayaks against the others.

Fortunately, the proliferation of intermarriages is making things harder for racist because you can’t prosecute half of a person. Muslim? Oh not Malay, Bidayuh. Fair and sepet? Oh not Chinese, Kayan.

It’s beginning to turn into a dry topic, but people love pouring kerosene over an open fire. They have Paris Hilton and Mel Gibson, we have Ibrahim Ali and Bung Mokhtar. At least theirs are much more better looking. because our celebrities here are not worth chasing after. Only Melodi tries.

I get annoyed when people who belong to the umbrella group of the Orang Ulu (Kenyah, Kayan, Kelabit Lunbawang) find out I’m Kenyah and ask why I couldn’t speak the language. Why should I? I converse pretty well in Bidayuh. That is my mother tongue (literally). Since my parents divorce, I consider myself Bidayuh. I closer to the Bidayuh side, I speak it well enough, I have more Bidayuh friends and I know the culture better. Of course the enigma of the Orang Ulu culture and its diversity is amazing, but beyond the typical need-to-know basis, I’m not bothered.

For the uninitiated, The Orang Ulu people live in the northern and most rural areas of Sarawak, while the Bidayuh populate the southern end, closer to the cities. You can say I’m a combination of both ends of Sarawak. As are many people I know (I do wonder sometimes why so many Orang Ulu marry Bidayuh, but the Ibans tend to marry amongst themselves?) Nowadays, finding a pureblood (to quote Harry Potter) is hard. Everyone is of mixed blood in Sarawak. Which is why being racist is not an option haha. Yes we have stereotypes among the various ethnic groups, but a unifying vein connects us all. The pride of being the most unique (with Sabah, of course) mix of cultures and traditions anywhere in the world. Granted most of the current tribes originated from Kalimantan Barat, but that’s long ago.

I haven’t been back to Long Loyang (the Kenyah side) in about 5 years? I think. Grandparents on that side passed away a few years back. It’s a far, long and tiring 5 hour journey from Miri. It’s pretty backward, generators providing power, gravity feed for water existing side-by-side with Astro and handphones. But the lush forest, extreme isolation and the quaint put-putting of river boats make it a quiet, peaceful destination with nothing to do but trekking, swimming (amongst crocs- we Sarawakians love them to bits), hunting, planting.

One the other hand, my Bidayuh kampung is a mere 40 minutes drive from the city. We used to go bck every weekend. I grew up with my grandparents around, so naturally I picked up the language. My father did try to teach us, but not growing up in the environment, we always lapse after a while. He gave up soon enough.

The steterotype is that the Bidayuh’s are meek, humble people, gentle and friendly. They were formerly known as the Land dayaks, moving further inland into unknown territory when the Iban pirates started raiding villages by major tributaries. The Orang Ulu are equal headhunters, proud, egotistic, but also friendly people who happen to headhunt. Not just mature adult males mind you, but even the head of a child or a women bathing alone or walking alone that they manage to catch unawares is an achievement enough for these people. Of course, Gen Y is no more bound to those customs and stereotypes. You have proud Bidayuhs and meek Kenyahs too.

Some people say I forget my roots because I haven’t made the annual 5 hour journey in a long time. Why would they say that? I might turn blonde (copper I think), speak English at home but I still speak my mother tongue, and at ease in a kampung. I was born in Kuching, raised in Kuching, studied in Kuching, lived in Kuching for the past 22 years of my life. I remember what I am, and no one is qualified to tell me what I have or have not abandoned. No one deserves to judge others. We don’t even deserve to judge those construction workers who look uneducated. Have we not all sinned? What makes you, a supremacist, any higher class than those who didn’t finish secondary school? Or you, who speaks fluently in all your mother tongues, and goes back kampung all the time, but talk like an uncivilized moron, drinking himself drunk and brandishing a distant past of tribal glory that doesn’t matter anymore (nor have been a part of)?

I learnt a major lesson in judging people when i made friends with the 15 year old Iban construction worker from next door at work. A dropout, smoking, not very intelligent but friendly, just wanting to make a decent living. At least he’s working and not sniffing cow shit in some backwater. Better than those who wear smart clothes, expensive leather shoes brandishing shiny iPhones, sucking up to the civil service. A cubicle warrior who wear sunblock every time and moans about the pain in their back from sitting down all day long in an air-conditioned room. Blue collared jobs, which makes your hands rough, isn’t good enough for the sons of the future. You’re a cook, then you must be stupid. Try me. I bet I speak better English than most of you wannabes.

I have friends whose parents frowned on them when they wanted to be chefs. Low pay, menial, degrading to the status of the family. Be a doctor, an engineer, or a lawyer. Your cousin is the first doctor, you should be next. I might be a chef, but I scored 8 As in my SPM and minimum Bs. I’m not stupid.

Perception. People are so one sided they never bother to look at the other side. Try stepping in someone else’s shoes for God’s sake! Whether race, or profession, or religion. Why say Catholics are cannibals when we don’t make fun of Protestants? They tend to forget about the scripture where a Pharisee prays with his head up and the sinner with his head down.

Just like the Dayaks. Pride in our culture is one thing, but blind ego is quite another. They are so busy denouncing everyone else is taking their share of the pie. The beat their chest and moan of the injustice. They whisper behind the back of others, backstabbing. They never see the bigger picture. They never bother to pick themselves up and do something. They wait for government aid, loans, whatever to make their life easier. They call themselves ferocious and proud hunters, but when faced with competition, they cower and wallow in their own self pity. Look at SNAP. In and out, in and out. When they’re up, they’re up so high and the scheming brings them falling.

I’m not bothered much by my Kenyah heritage anymore. I’m happy enough where I am. Maybe personal issues make me more prejudiced against it. I don’t hate Kenyahs, or love them. I just don’t feel a personal connection. Call me what you want.

So yes, I am a Bidayuh. I am proud of my heritage. But I am a Sarawakian at heart.

Next time you see a Chinese looking dude calling himself Bidayuh, it might be me.

BN is trying to maintain its safe deposit. They promised the heaven and earth, from the mouth of its paramount. Then what?

For almost half a century, they’ve been in power. For half a century we’ve trailed behind. Now they promise transformation. Why now? Why not 50 years ago when we gave them power? Why are some villages still relying on generators and gravity feed systems  within a 50 km radius from the state capital after 50 years?

The Opposition is no better. Yes we want to teach BN a lesson. How long can we do that? How much more mud slinging can we hear from them? What happened to crucial issues, buried in useless sentiments like religion, politicians integrity (did they have any to start with?) and racial favouritism (some call it positive discrimination. It’s still discrimination)?

Still embroiled in gutter politics, slander and third world mentality. This is our democracy, young, raw, narrow and ignorant. Where sensational news rule and real issues an afterthought as everyone is swept by populist sentiments. Open dialogue, fair campaigns, an open mind. Why bother blaming the other side when you should look at yourself and improve?Like those racial prejudices that abound and the inevitable discontentment, why blame them? Look at yourself and improve.

I’ve never expected any handouts from the government. I don’t even have an ASB. I don’t see why we have to wait for someone to feed us when others manage just as well without it.

But I digress. Of course choose the lesser evil. We can choose the Opposition. But they’ve been no better. All they’re saying is bring Taib down. Then? Their ‘manifesto’ isn’t as clear cut, and nor is BN’s. Full of bullshit, promises that’s never fulfilled.

Today the PM is pleading with sarawakians to give them a chance, not to blame all for the mistakes and weaknesses of a few. So almost towards polling day he admits it. Before this is nothing but the glory and prosperity of the ruling coalition. What gives?

Development is our RIGHT, not our reward. So the Opposition wins. We still deserve development under their supervision, is it not? We need balance, other voices in the Assembly so an alternative voice can be heard. A landslide is stupid, and dangerous. Why blackmail us with no developments without them?

I have no answers. I can only wait and see.

Actually my name’s not out on the electoral roll yet. And voters under the age of 21 still number 400,000, mostly those who are unhappy. I guess we can predict the outcome, but let’s just wait and see.

A place where fledgling businesses run by young people where we can link up, share resources and suppliers, ideas and find potential partners, a place with ambitious, enthusiastic youths who want to take on the world and think outside the box. No offense to old people but with all their experience they always seem to be such wet blankets.

Maybe I should start one…

I have a dream. A big one. And I hope it won’t just be dreams. I used to think of profit, money and myself. Now I realize there’s a bigger picture to all that. Yes Andy, Evil Consortium will still be on haha. What I mean is that to provide a platform for everyone else to follow suit, infrastructure, to pioneer and to open up markets and create competition, the possibilities are endless.

Empowerment. Awareness. Ambition.

Kuching is a small city. But in the last 5 years foreign brands and franchises began flooding the city. Local brands have grwon stronger, but many have fallen by the wayside. Competiton will increase, with the many malls being built right now and the increased purchasing power of the people. But depressed wages aren’t helping. Inflation is creating problems for Gen Y. How to fix this? I have no answers, since I’m no economist. I hardly remember what I learn in Business 101.

But I believe that if enough locals begin opening up markets and exposing it to the masses, it will create jobs and opportunities for many. Don’t think SCORE. It’s still a long way to go and we’ve always had trust issues with the authorities when it comes to those mega projects. It’s not about money anymore. It’s about prosperity shared by all. Foreign brands try to make their mark, some suceeding better than most, some just trampling all over the place, making a lot of noise but ultimately just hot air.

Many now study to engineers because of the so-called demand for engineers when SCORE is fully running. I know many tourism students taking a different path after seeing how STB handled Sarawak’s tourism. Look at Sabah. The poorest state in Malaysia, but how do they market their state so well? Either STB bucks up or I’ll push for my own Tourism Organisation. Bureaucracy and red tape is inhibiting so many things. Development? Not everyone benefits from the grand plans of the higher powers.

Such enormous tourism potential. But we’re so busy creating aluminuim smelter plants that will inevitablycreate environmental problems in the near future. Developed countries are looking for cheaper alternatives for manufacturing raw materials. So they come here. Then what? We become the dumping grounds of the world’s waste like China with all it’s prosperity but dire environmental situation?

Green power. We have sunlight every day. Blistering heat. We have enormous tourism potential. We have dense, lush forest ripe for tourists. A culture distinct from the rest of the world. But all we have is few homestays in Santubong, Benuk and the Cultural Village.

I want to create opportunities for locals to pursue the things they desire. Archeology? Anthropology? Parents gets apoplexy if you ever mention that as a career path. Ther are a million things hidden in the rich history of this land. Niah caves. So they found Paleolithic remains there. But I know they’ve barely scratched the surface. I remember the days when my father was the assistant curator of the Sarwak Museum. He used to go on trips to document dying cultures. Soon the dying will be dead amd nothing will be left of our heritage. No funding, no research.

Mulu? Even I haven’t been there. I shudder to think of the day when Sarawak is turned in to huge, industrial wasteland, Kuching city clouded in smog, forests gone, all in the name of development.

I have no answers, just more questions.

Working alone allows me a lot of quiet, lonely time to do my work. but it also allows all these thoughts to speed up, leaving streaks in my vision. It gets worse when I’ve a bad day, or someone’s getting on my nerves. When I feel the torrent of downloaded emotions involuntarily leaching out, I sing.

Singing alone is no hard task. Made easier by being alone, so no judgements (terribly self conscious person). As the words flow out freely, mostly punctuated by unintelligible sounds, the thoughts go away. Only the song I sing and nothing else. I’m by no means a great singer, but nonetheless decent enough for my neighbours (cats).

I’ve never been a rabid music fan, consuming nothing but music. Beyond being a typical guy who enjoys a good track, I don’t count myself as a music gourmand. Great music is great music. Just because it isn’t indie anymore doesn’t mean it’s that bad. Hey, they need to make money too.

I pay more attention to film soundtracks than the actual film. It’s a make or break thing when I rate a movie. I chase them incessantly for free.  I mostly hear unknown bands, but enjoy the widespread appeal of mainstream fare. The music is more important than the lyrics. That’s why I can listen to foreign singers, because I don’t really care much for the lyrics.

I can’t play any instruments for shit (does a pot count?), or read music, or stay endlessly stuck on MTV. But I love to sing. It’s the purest expression of the human state of being. It’s personal, intimate and largely a more enjoyable listen compared to an expletive ridden rant. I mean, Taylor Swift has to break up to come out with an album (oh what will she do when she finally gets married?), that’s one extreme.

Although my head just grabs whatever trailing vestige of a song that’s still ringing just for the sake of shutting the voices up.  Even if it’s Rindu Serindunya by Spoon (or is it Wings?). it’s a place where no thoughts intrude upon, my own secret garden. The now defunct Meet Uncle Hussein, Hujan, Daughtry, Letto, MC Mong, Jason Mraz, Michael Buble, Peterporn (pan! Pan! Pan!), James Blunt, Riivermaya, Electrico, Zee Avi, Cee Lo, GLEE.

After a cycle of about 5-6 songs, and the world is right again.

I’ve always been a person who requires some space and not willing to concede many of my personal freedoms. I’ve been selfish, a person of my own self, loving myself more than anyone else. The concept of sacrifice is reserved for close friends and even then, laced with ulterior (sometimes unknowingly) motives.

But now I know that sacrifice and understanding is a part of growing up. The theory is easy to digest, but when faced with the reality of it, it’s much harder. I feel like I have to relearn everything, and take a look at the way I’ve been conducting myself. Patience is something I always pride myself in, but now I know that real patience with something that truly matters is a whole different ball game compared to things that are a means to an end.

So I’m taking baby steps again at this thing called commitment, and try to overcome the fear of turning out like my own father. I know playing around is not inherited, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder growing up and facing those issues made me the way I am today. Keeping my distance, shying away from anything steady, youth is after all about truly enjoying (with limits) the freedom of exploration and choice.

But maybe that was because I haven’t found the one yet.

Together with another two passive investors, I formulated a marketing plan and concept. But when the time came to actually implement it, I realized the daunting task of doing everything alone. Juggling a full time job and this independent venture seemed so monumental. Some days I just feel like throwing in the towel, curl up in bed and do the robot routine. Eat, work, sleep. Don’t think, just follow.

That worked for awhile, before KKCC started. Only to realize I get bored soon enough. Jack of all trades, master of none? That’s what I am. Skim the surface, grasp the general idea and then move on. Instead of EWS, it’s now, think, work, think, work, eat, think, sleep, think, work. How do those successful people slog through all the tedious, procedural work without thinking of jumping ship every so often? Damn ambitious them.

If I look at the bigger picture, yes, there is a more profitable future in store. The path to it will be lined with blood, sweat and tears, and who knows whether it will lead to the intended destination. Scared of failure, that’s what. Everyone can say failure is the stepping stone to success, and dare to fail shit thrown around. But only when put in a situation where things can go either way, the reality of failure is all the more glaring. That’s scary. I wish I was one of those perennially optimistic people (some who live by The Secret code of success) and smile in the face of failure.

Or be a robot.

It does feel as if over thinking all of this will almost surely lead to some sort of failure. But I’m always thinking too much nowadays. The only refuge I get from thinking is when I can sing with careless abandon. But no k-box. T.T The empty kitchen is good enough.

I was telling someone how mentally exhausting thinking up recipes, modifying it, balancing accounts, shopping for supplies, arranging deliveries, scheduling baking, thinking of marketing approaches is.

She replied, “Dah bisnes sendiri.”

I guess that’s what happens when you can’t afford to hire anyone but yourself.

I should pull a restaurant scam that uses free labor aka trainees/interns.