Dust to dust, ashes to ashes ...

Life and death is a cycle. One day we will all be dust, fertilising the soil with the shell that used to house our personality and returning our chemical elements to the carbon and nitrogen cycle.

I am fascinated by funerary rites. Every culture and religion has their own way of dealing with the dead. Some are elaborate, verging on hedonistic (check out the Sulawesi Tana Toraja funeral). These would take months in preparation as the family of the dead would accumulate funds to finance the best and most amazing send off for their loved one. The more fantastical funeral is reserved for the family elders while the younger ones have a less elaborate funeral. For them, death is a celebration of the long and wonderful life of the deceased.It is an expensive endeavour, hence the large gap between the time of death till the laying to rest.

Nearly all would have a funeral procession of some note. For the Malay Muslim, it is a sombre one with those attending reciting prayers for the dead under their breath or in a low voice. The Hindus and Taoists have an elaborate procession, with music and attendants on foot and in cars. The Christians are quite varied, depending on geographical location, with most having a solemn procession. In New Orleans, however, the black community celebrate the funeral procession with rousing music (the famous Jazz funeral) and dancing attendants.

Malay Muslim funeral rites are quite inclusive of the family members. They are encouraged to pray and to recite passages of the Quran to be "gifted" to the deceased. I was privileged to be allowed to help wash my grandmother during her funeral; her frail, stiff body cradled by her daughters and granddaughters. We gently washed her pale, cold flesh with scented water, pat her dry with care before she was wrapped in white, clean funeral shroud.

Commonly, there is a "director" of the event, usually called tukang mandi mayat, who will help obtain the supplies needed and to give the directions for the preparation of the deceased. Such individuals are highly respected and are usually given a token of appreciation by the family of the dearly departed at the end of the funeral. They are usually volunteers trained by the religious authorities. Although many uses the professional services provided by bodies like Lembaga Tabung Haji and the khairat kematian people of the mosque in the neighbourhood, but many still use the volunteer tukang mandi mayat.

The family members are expected to report the death and make arrangements for the burial. Usually, the nearest cemetary is used but for those who passed away far from home, they may be transported back to be buried. The closest male relatives are often the ones to shoulder the dead to the cemetary and help to lower the body into the grave. The imam will lead the prayer before leaving for the cemetary and to give the funeral rites.

For Malay Muslims, lamenting of the dead is forbidden. It is said that breast-beating and excessive displays of sorrow will hurt the deceases soul. I think the same goes for Christians, no matter the denomination (I have only ever been to a Catholic funeral mass and an Anglican wake). But for many cultures, demonstrations of grief is a must. The Taoists funeral rite even involve people who cry for the deceased, wailing and lamenting loudly how the dead will be missed. I had a first-hand taste of this at the funeral of a dear teacher of mine, the late Mrs SS Tan, who taught me English and Literature. She was also my form mistress (class teacher) in Form One. I went just before they prepared to leave for the memorial park to give my last respects.

When I arrived and saw her photograph, tears welled and fell unbidden. It had been so long since I had seen her and she did not remember me when I greeted her on Sports Day a few years after I had left her class. In the picture, she looked just as a I remembered: the kind eyes, her fine fair skin with a dusting of blush, the rose of her lipstick and the luxuriant wavy hair framing her face. It only struck me then that she really is no more. A strange thought since I was never a favourite student or anything of that sort. But the remembrance of her kind and firm ways, how she taught to me the difference between 'despite' and 'in spite of' and her enthusiasm in showing us how to analyse the literary works assigned to us opened the floodgates and I cried. It was terrible since I did not anticipate tears and had no tissue paper or handkerchief on me. There I was trying to cry in a discreet manner and wiping my tears surreptitiously in one corner as the Tao priest conducted the funeral rites, and came a member of the family, handing me a packet of ang pow.

"A gift from the family," he said.

I was bewildered and tried to give it back. For the Malays, it is customary to give a small token to the bereaved family, not the other way round. He had quickly walked away and left me clutching the little red packet. It was later that my friend told me that I was given the ang pow because I had cried at the funeral and that it was an honouring to the deceased.

No matter how a funeral is conducted, lavish or no, I realise that the funeral is for the living. The dead doesn't care what happens to the shell that once housed their souls, but the ones left behind do. Honouring the deceased and participating in the rites help to garner a kind of closure for the family and friends. Then comes the reminiscence and telling of happy stories about the deceased, past misdeeds erased like they never were. Don't believe me? Look at how Michael Jackson was lauded after he passed away. I think it is better to concentrate on the good times rather than the bad when one thinks about a deceased; after all, the dead cannot defend him/herself and digging up past resentments and anger surely cannot be a healthy endeavour. Which is why I admire the idea of an Irish wake, where the grieving family and friends sit and drink and eat while exchanging reminiscence of the deceased.

My father often reminded us that it is more important to attend a funeral than it is to attend a wedding. He said that showing support and to help when a person is in bereavement is more crucial because that is the time when you are needed the most.

I can fully get behind this philosophy cheekily; you don't need to bother about a date when attending a funeral.

The many forms of beauty

You are only limited by the limitations you place upon yourself. I learn this from my friend who has spina bifida and went on to obtain a PhD in neuroscience and is now teaching and raising hell. With the advent of technology, the barriers that kept disabled people from moving on and up are disappearing. You have computers that can talk to aid the blind, better hearing aids and intervention to help the deaf and a slew of other innovations that can improve their quality of life and enjoyment.

In view of the can-do spirit, the China Disabled People’s Performing Art Troupe presented a magnificent performance of the Thousand Hand Guan Yin at the last Spring Festival. What amazing coordination and team work!

Enjoy.

Wallowing in auditory bliss ...

Mary Kay and I went to Hujan's Rainger's Gathering at the Itudio Studio at Kelana Mall today. Lyn joined us there. Gotta say it was a lovely surprise to have a jam session begin with prayers of thanksgiving. Apparently it was the band's tribute to their loyal fans for their support for the past three years; allowing them to grow and go places.

I first heard of them while watching the television series Kami on 8TV; stumbled across the show by accident while I was ironing. It was intriguing with a gritty realism that is largely absent in most Malay dramas; the story was reflective of the realities facing urban and suburban teenagers (i.e. drugs, truancy, isolation, angst, family trouble, friends, love, music etc).

Gotta say that their energy and verve is really something. They sound better live than on radio, unlike a number of the Akademi Fantasia product. Their songs are catchy, lyrical and poetic, capturing the their thoughts on issues ranging from heartbreak, loss, social musings and political headlines. I was bopping my feet and head along; the crowd was very restrained, doing anything more would be inappropriate.

I was humbled by the fantastic opportunity for me to experience Malaysian indie music at its finest. It is also delightful to know that their fame hadn't blinded them to other struggling bands and fellow artistes who are working to make their name and work known. Stormbay (?), one of the guest acts, acknowledged that Noh helped them gain exposure by telling the producer of Remaja, a show on TV3 to give them a chance. Near all of the guest acts have a story to tell regarding how the Hujan members have helped them out one way or another.

Have a listen. Enjoy.

Miserly emotions not required

We would all love to be the first and only love of someone's life. And hopefully, we feel the same way about our partner.

This woman, however, had the courage to be the second love of her husband's life. Her generosity of spirit and love is humbling. She's no saint and I'm sure many a wife would identify with her exasperation at her husband's inability to score his clothes in the laundry hamper. Her wry acknowledgment that she may fare poorly in comparison to his first wife resonates with honesty and an expansiveness of spirit.

Ah, vive l'amour ...

Learning from the animal kingdom ... NOT!!!!

We humans like to think that we are special. But there is a group of people who believe that humans are no better than animals and as such, all creatures should be treated equal. If you want to give paid maternity leave to your cat or your seat on the LRT (light rail transit) to the visiting hippopotamus, be my guest.

But as human beings, we are held accountable by a different set of rules, yes? You may say that homosexuality is natural, but if a human being had done what this male duck did, he would be imprisoned. With a straitjacket over his prison uniform.

Apparently, it took Dr Moeliker over five years to gather up courage to report the necrophiliac homosexual rape of a male mallard (fancy name for duck) outside his office. Love how deadpan and wry his writing is (it is something I don't see in the journals I usually read, darn those dry, snooze generating stuff) and it is reflected in his presentation (see below a video presentation of Dr Moeliker on the occasion of receiving his IgNobel Prize).



Guys, I won't blame you if you feel a little inadequate; the rapist duck clocked in at 75 minutes thrust time and only stopped after the estimable Dr Moeliker interrupted his business. In between, he had rested only twice, each time lasting less than five minutes.

Sexual harrassment also exist in the animal kingdom. South African biologist Nico de Bruyn reported of an Antarctic fur seal who had (mistakenly?) mounted an adult king penguin (of unknown sex) for 45 minutes. Golly, there is just no escaping jerks like that, huh?

Where do you see yourselves in 40 years time?

Apparently for Singaporeans, it is JB (Johor Baru).

I got the link to this video via the Assunta alumni newsletter. Thus far, the response is mixed; some thinking it's funny and others are appalled. Me, I have mixed feelings about it. Apparently, the video was made in response to this report of a statement made by Singapore's Health Minister, Mr. Khaw Boon Wan.

If you can't understand Singlish (Singaporean English), I can't help you. :p

Lunacy in sanity?

I am a firm believer in self determination. If someone is ill, that person has the right to dictate the kind of treatment he/she wishes to receive and whether or not to continue with the regime. This is fairly straight forward when one is dealing with a functional adult of sound mind.

But what if that person is a minor?

The bioethics involved in treating a minor is still in a murky zone. Status quo indicates that the decision regarding the welfare of a minor rests in the hand of the child's guardian. Hence, the guardian has a a right to push or even reject a treatment for a minor. This is easy enough if a child has no bigger complains than the usual coughs and colds and playground injuries. However, it has come to fore of parents (and guardians) who are refusing treatment or seeking harmful or even allowing the minor to remain untreated for reasons of faith or even non-spiritual belief.

In the case of Colleen Hauser and her son, Daniel, who fled their home in Minnesota to escape court-ordered chemotherapy, who is in the right? The mother, who believes that her child should not have toxic materials injected in him because she favors the natural healing methods of an American Indian religious group known as the Nemenhah Band? Or is it the court who determines that Daniel would benefit from conventional treatment that has been proven to cure Hodgkin's lymphoma?

Many cultures imbue the right of parents to determine the decisions affecting their children. It is not uncommon in Asia for neighbours to look the other way while a child is being disciplined; of course in some cases, such discilinary measures not only verge but enter the realm of abuse and still people will accept that it is the right of the parents to act in such a manner. In the West, this feature has changed with the adoption of bills that prohibit parents from using corporal discipline on their children. It got to such that a mother cannot smack her toddler's bottom for being mischeavous in public.

But in the case of Colleen and Daniel, who have the right to determine what is best for him? It would seem to many that his mother is jeopardising his life by refusing him treatment and influencing him to reject it as well. In the case of Madeline Kara Neumann, who died from untreated diabetes complication, her mother rejected conventional medicine and instead, chose to have her healed via faith healing. Whether it is laying of hands or dependence on supplements and sweat boxes, these are parents who chose other treatment options for their children out of their own particular belief system (regardless of what faith they hold to). One of the extreme cases involved very young children who had the devil tormented out of them by a rabbi with consent from their mother. One of the child now suffers permanent brain damage.

As a person of faith, I am appalled at how belief system can be perverted in such a way as to inadvertently harm vulnerable children. But then again, people have used faith to justify harming other people with purely malicious intent. One would think that with the brain that The Almighty has gifted them, they could reason better than that.

But apparently, not.

*shakes head*

Adding to a growing vocabulary ...

Came across a new word today: figjam.

It is an acronym for F*** I'm Good Just Ask Me. Applicable to narcissistic types who think that the world revolves around them, that they can do no wrong, it is always the other person's fault etc etc etc. I'm sure you've met this type before. If you have to work with one of them, God help you and you have my sympathies.

Just glad that I don't have an opportunity to label anyone with this today. Go, me.

More reason to snip away at the prized goods ...

For all the men out there who thinks that circumcision is horrid, go and read this. Besides improving your hygiene, it might just save your life.