Fish Balls Soup

On the lunch buffet at the hotel restaurant today, there was chicken stew, some African style chicken stew. Chunky white meat with vegetable in a clear white broth. I took some to go with my rice. 

A closer look at the stew when I was seated revealed that it was actually a fish stew. My first bite into the chunky fillet, it was flaky and tender. And then the taste and scent was unmistakeable, fishy and salty. That instantly triggered my longing for the fish balls soup from home. Big round fish balls, smelling just as fishy and salty floating in a bowl of piping hot clear white broth. 

I remember mom used to bring us kids all out in town on weekends for shopping and fun. At the end of the day, we'd packed onto a rickshaw with our shopping bags and exhausted bodies heading to the hawker stalls under the giant big trees in town center for dinner. The simple yet delicious fish ball soup was a staple on the table. That was one of the highlights of my day. Maybe my week!

And suddenly I was 5 again, squatting at the front of the rickshaw carriage, looking forward to the fish balls soup dinner at the end of the day out in town with mom. 

Oh ma, happy Mother's Day!

36

Gosh, 36! With the new crew cut 'do, I look no more than 25! Hahahaha... Well today it's my day, so humor me.

At 36, I'm blessed. Physically I'm blessed with this youthful good look (the jury is still out there on good look, but youthful is definitely a popular opinion.) and good health and (most of the time) a sound mind. I'm grateful to have my family's support in (most of) the decisions I make no matter how stupid or crazy they are, and (most of) my family still love me! How cool is that!? I have (a small circle of) friends. They are real, not the FB kind. It's the quality, not quantity. They would smack (literally) some good sense into me when I'm being an giant jack ass, hurry over to my rescue with a simple phone call, stab me only at the front (usually in the face) and drive across the city late in the night just for a beer with me (and they are the one buying). Workwise I have a somewhat enjoyable (or is it tolerable?) job in some far flung corner of Africa. Paychecks are fat enough (of course it could be fatter) for a 30 something. I have my own pad in the city and i just bought a car too! Life is good (most of the time). I cannot and should not bitch about it, really.

But there are something amiss. 

Life is bigger than me. There should be, no, there must be a greater purpose in life for everyone, not just personal achievement and fulfillment. I believe we are here to serve a greater good. It's time to give back. Living in Juba has its challenges and it's frustrating sometimes. OK, most of the time. But the poverty surrounding me also reminds me to be grateful and humble. I want to get involved with some NGOs here and volunteer my time and/or energy, preferably something to do with education, for I believe education is the best cure for everything. I have this crazy idea. It's super duper ambitious but I'm actually looking at building a school here. With my supposedly big fat paycheck I hope I can work out something or collaborate with some organizations to make this happen. It'd be a long arduous climb not nothing in life comes easy isn't it? 

There are plans for doing good work on the education front back home in Malaysia. I got ideas from my big boss on helping in some small scale educational sponsorship like sponsoring flight tickets for some poor oversea students or supplies for schools in the rural areas. In addition, I definitely would do my bit for the Chinese primary schools, like contributing towards the utilities bills. Hopefully I have enough dollars to stretch as far as possible. Oh one more, Little Hearts in Phnom Penh will always have a special place in my heart. So, it's also on my wish list to continue volunteer there and visit the kids whenever I can. Miss them kids loads. 

In the end, if I can't do it myself, I'll get help, get help from most of the family who still love me and the small circle of friends I keep. Brazilian novelist Paulo Coelho said it well:"If you want something really hard, the universe would actually conspire to help you." Let alone friends and family, the whole universe!

Still, there are something amiss. 

Well, more like someone, someone to share this life with. This one I really need the help from the whole universe.

Anyway, happy birthday to me!

Just Fudge It

I got into Mombassa around 6 am from Nairobi after an overnighter bus ride. Then around 8, I hopped on to a bus, old, slow, rickety, cramped, smelly and without AC, for another 6 torturously long hours on a dusty and bumpy road heading to Lamu. All the way I was exhausted, sweaty, sleepy and empty stomached. 

This was the packet sugary milk fudge that I bought through the window of the bus from the local ladies swamping the bus when it stopped for the umpteenth times along the way dropping and picking up more passengers. Well that was lunch. 

When I finally made it to the island of Lamu, instead of sorting out my hotel for the night, I dashed straight to the airline office to book my flight out. I was not going to take another 6 hours of the bus ride. Then I went to the rooftop restaurant/bar next door for a beer. While seeping my beer I managed to arrange for a 3d2n sailing trip on a dhow boat. Then I had another beer and then found a hotel, which was  just below the bar.

While you are on the road, sometimes it's good to just fuck it. Or just fudge it.

428 Afterthought

It was around 9am in the morning of Apr 28 here in Juba, 2pm at home in Malaysia. Many of my fellow countrymen were all donned in yellow, taking it to the street demanding for a change for the better for our beloved country. Here in Juba, my 2 colleagues and I, coincidentally all wearing red, were having breakfast at the hotel restaurant. Yeah, we were so wearing the wrong color for the day. I guess we did not get the memo. Anyway we were following the beat by beat accounts of the rally in KL on Facebook and Twitter. 

For the following days, I was reading various comments and blog postings as well as looking at the photos of the rally online. A few aerial shots of the massive turn out at various places really caught my attention. Those were the people gathering at various meeting points before marching towards Dataran Merdeka (Independence Square) for the sit-down protest. To me, the photos were powerful, sea of yellow packing the streets, peacefully and orderly, ready to voice out our dissatisfaction, ask for change. It was all calm. And then the march started and we all knew what happened next. 

It got me thinking a little.

What if everyone just sit down there and then on the streets at the meeting points, for the sit-down protest? Would that not be effective enough? There'd still be hundreds of thousands (as claimed by various quarters) of people in yellow sitting down at various locations in town, in protest of the severely corrupted system in our country. Is that not good enough? Like I said, from the aerial shots, they were powerful. 

I couldn't be any more certain than the next person to say that the rally might turn out differently if people sit down just at those different meeting points. But at that moment, it was serenely calm. If we could just sit down there and then, do we still need to march to the already heavily barricaded square for the sit-down? 

At the end of the day, there are many ways to skin a cat. And of course, things are always easier or making more sense in hindsight. 

But I'm sure of one thing, the quest for change for the better must not stop, should not stop and will never be stopped. 

Go yellow!

Those Afternoons, Those Games

I bummed into this bunch of kids while wandering in the maze of Lamu, Kenya.

They were playing on the porch, some sort of local checkers. The board was drawn on the floor with chalk. The pieces were pebbles picked from the street, invariably differentiated by their sizes, big or small. A simple game it may be but it was also quite furious, as they were moving forcefully, arguing heatedly at a disputed move and chuckling heartily after a win. The kids were having a whale of a time, in the sunny afternoon.

I can still hear their cheerful laughters roaring, crisp and loud, contented and very much infectious.

It was a simple rustic game but brought so much laughters and joy to their days. Do you remember how those laughters also once filled our afternoons when we were kids playing hopscotch, marbles, tic-tac-toe, snake and ladder, jumpsies?

Oh they challenged me to a game. Guess who won?

What?

What you looking at?

Photo of a Masai zebra, taken at Masai Mara, Kenya.

Rain in Juba

April.

The change of season is upon the city. It rained, and rained and rained in the city today. The burning heat and blinding brightness from the sun is washed away with the drops of rain. Washing away along with it the choking dustiness that perpetually hanging heavy in the air.

What a welcoming change! Cleansing. Refreshing.

Unfortunately, not dousing away the smog in my mind. I'm know the breeze will blow it away, the downpour will clean it up. Hopefully, soon. I'm looking forward to the arc of rainbow and the gentle sunshine after the storm.

More rain is still to fall. Yeah, I'm leaving all the muddles be, and pushing them aside. I'm just going to listen to the rain for now.