Every time it Rains

Every time it rains,

I imagine

cuddling you in my arms ,

and smell your hair..

The trickles,

reminds me of the seconds

on the face of

a clock,

and how much we have wasted

over trivial matters..

when we could use them

for love..

I have never forgotten

to love you

Even when it rains

Every time it rains

Let it stream down your heart

and gutter into a pool

Filled with love

In my heart

Let it striate the fog

off our windows

And remove the gale from our eyes

Each time it rains

Every time it rains..

-Kris Lee 2020.

Tiandihui in Malaya

The triads were very much the make-up of overseas Chinese in Malaya back in the 1800s, with 7 out of 10 persons either belonging to one brotherhood or the other, depending on which side bullies them. It is an olden day form of a trade union, and it propagated mutual aid and a sense of security to individuals indeed, if one works in the mining field. And a strong cluster cannot be overstated in the wake of problems encountered in a land alien to them. Every member undergoes induction rites and their rituals took on the version of their Chinese counterpart, the ‘Tiandihui’ , otherwise known as the ‘Heaven Earth Sect’ – a Ming loyalists secret society that originates to resist the invasion of Manchus during the Qing Dynasty.

In Malaya, their sworn brotherhood and protectionist policy instinctively appeals to many, especially when succumbed to duress or bully. Their brotherhood ensures peace, and a stable income for all. And so it was, that the British had a hard time flushing them out that gradually, a triad member named Yap Ah Loy had to be deployed to mediate and ensure peace on behalf of their rule.

Gang wars was a natural occurrence then, when differences cannot be reconciled, and some went full blown, making its way into our annals of history. Every initiated member were issued weapons, many self made, the most popular being the Malay parang once used for clearing lands is now used for butchering, the trident-like spears, wooden poles, and of course, knuckle dusters (a recent find shown below) which delivers excruciating pain when a blow is received.

Gradually, the British, in dire straits and concern over their strength, devised a way to outlaw these secret societies, by encouraging them to register their societies legally, so that every member is a statistic, on the pretext of being philomantic to their cause, grouping themselves by the district that one originates, by dialect spoken, by common surname, and by the trade one belongs to. Of course many remained undercover to work their so called secret activities.

(Below: a zoomorohic shaped bronze knuckle duster)

Banksy or Wanky

“There must be an assigned proprietor for a trademark to be endorsed. Whether your pseudonym is Banksy or Wanky, indeed no one knows if you are a groupie, an institution or a delusional whacko. But since you can craft your fame holding onto a mysterious identity, then, you’d surely know how to wiggle your trademark across in other ways.

If the British can glamorise Spice Girls, James Bond and Jaime Oliver, surely you are of no sweat to them. “

Etiquette versus Moral Studies

“I think moral studies and religion as a subject taught in schools should be abandoned, with social etiquette classes taking centrestage. Personal grooming, deportment, good housekeeping, mannerism and conduct will ensure decency, cleanliness and social comfort at all times. Whilst understanding customs and traditions of other races will benefit harmony better.”

– Kris Lee 2020.

Sexual Promiscuity and the Internet

“I think the internet has taken sexual promiscuity to a much higher level. The age of gigolos and mama-sans has succumbed to this almost invisible jackpot showcase that churns millions of assorted humanoids shifting through your screen like oranges falling from the sky within just a few clicks, without you making any raunchy effort to hide your ogle. It is a personal shopping experience of the most luscious level gushing across your iris and you don’t need to be at your personal best to connect.

In the midst of it all, it has also created scoundrels out of men of all shapes and sizes, colours, belief and status. Man that you thought was decent but mischievously deceptive, as they hunt for elixir outside the boundaries of their marital union, and many who hid their sexual innuendos in the pretext of scavenging for a healthy melty relationship. Surprisingly, these are the same people who wedge themselves comfortably in between genuine singles who do not lie nor deceive.

But why does the most successful decent looking husband with a loving wife and children would want to risk it all if one may ask? And successful smart woman were also being cheated everyday?

I think that nomadically, men has always been the hunter gatherer and because of that, the chase has always interest and excite them. What more the triumph and satisfaction of bringing their prized catch back home. Hence their uncontrollable fetish to hunt for flowers of the prettiest bloom.

I think ego and affirmation comes in close second, after years of being deduced from his stigmata of knighthood and gallantry, to that of a janitor and repairman by their partners.

Away from this league are those with uncontrollable urges for coitus, not like they have genuine worries of any kind, nor their egos bruised, the consequence of being side stepped by their partners expectations.

So, how women pick out these pearls from a cache full of peanuts is where relationship coaches took the first big bite out of dimwits, and the scammers who comes in a close second, happily fattening their wallets playing casanovas to these lonely hearts. For those who pays thousands of dollars for advice, still, not all are lucky. Many are still cheated by decent looking men, whilst the rest are still crowding around their personal computers.

But right now, one thing is for certain. As connectivity improves, the inbox will ring nonstop, thus, it is almost certain that women of today are getting much more adoration, admiration and attention than those living in the bygone era. It is abundance with a capital ‘A’ and no longer a ‘you dump me I have no one else to choose from’ game. Some has their ego hitting the roof that their once placid connectivity is now an oasis flustered with high quality lingeries waiting to line their wardrobes on their upcoming birthdays.

So what does this do to the world?

Well, it certainly gave the words lies, betrayal and deceit a proper place in the dictionary of discreet with lawyers busily wrangling for amicable settlements the world over. It has also become the number one avenue where women cheats. But somehow, women show more success in discreet whereas to the men, many got slapped.

And got slapped hard! “

-Kris Lee 2020.

Believe and Trust

One has to believe in a person before you can trust them. You can’t say I believe you, but I don’t trust you. Neither is it right to say that I trusted you, but I don’t believe you. That kind of statement is purely unacceptable.

Scrape Defence Budget

“Why keep the defence ministry when a single virus released through the air can be directed to attack a certain organ, a certain cell, or a certain age group? All your gallant decorations, fighter jets, guns and fighting men is altogether redundant when every soldier has to worry for himself than others he is fighting with. This world has changed. And every country running on a tight budget will now have a breather if defence budget is scraped.”

Burnt Sand

The seabirds have flown

The grasses have turned brown

What are we but burnt sand

If hearts that bind no longer shine

But wilt in the golden meadow.

Miracle for my Brother

An eight-year-old child heard her parents talking about her little brother. All she knew was that he was very sick and they had no money left. They were moving to a smaller house because they could not afford to stay in the present house after paying the doctor’s bills. Only a very costly surgery could save him now and there was no one to loan them the money.

When she heard her daddy say to her tearful mother with whispered desperation, ‘Only a miracle can save him now’, the little girl went to her bedroom and pulled her piggy bank from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully.

Clutching the precious piggy bank tightly, she slipped out the back door and made her way six blocks to the local drugstore. She took a quarter from her bank and placed it on the glass counter.

“And what do you want?” asked the pharmacist.

“It’s for my little brother,” the girl answered back. “He’s really very sick and I want to buy a miracle.”

“I beg your pardon?” said the pharmacist.

“His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my daddy says only a miracle can save him. So how much does a miracle cost?”

“We don’t sell miracles here, child. I’m sorry,” the pharmacist said, smiling sadly at the little girl.

“Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn’t enough, I can try and get some more. Just tell me how much it costs.”

In the shop was a well-dressed customer. He stooped down and asked the little girl, “What kind of a miracle does you brother need?”

“I don’t know,” she replied with her eyes welling up. “He’s really sick and mommy says he needs an operation. But my daddy can’t pay for it, so I have brought my savings”.

“How much do you have?” asked the man.

“One dollar and eleven cents; but I can try and get some more”, she answered barely audibly.

“Well, what a coincidence,” smiled the man, “A dollar and eleven cents – the exact price of a miracle for little brothers.”

He took her money in one hand and held her hand with the other. He said, “Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let’s see if I have the kind of miracle you need.”

That well-dressed man was Dr Carlton Armstrong, a neurosurgeon. The operation was completed without charge and it wasn’t long before Andrew was home again and doing well.

“That surgery,” her mom whispered, “was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost.”

The little girl smiled. She knew exactly how much the miracle cost … one dollar and eleven cents.

(Author unknown)

Sin Free?

~For Christians Only~

When Jesus say “if your eyes had cause you to sin, pluck it out”, what he meant was exactly what he says. That the mere act of oogling at a man or women with lust, harbouring the desire to act on it or to fantasise or imagine lewd scenes is enough to make you a sinner. Never mind if you stay faithful to your legitimate companion till your golden years or beyond. Otherwise He could just ask you to wash your eyes, drip some eye solution and you are back to normal, instead of plucking them out. And he meant both eyes because no one pair of eyes can focus on two things at the same time. Not unless you are squint-eyed.

Thus the act of refraining yourself from being physical with somebody who is not your spouse does not warrant you the coveted trophy of being ‘sin free’. And sin is not exclusive of the flesh. It might win you praises from both your wife or your in laws or the general public but not He who owns the heavenly kingdom. And He did not specify the age that one should not ogle thus you can still be a sinner when you are a teenager or stay unmarried.

In other words, no one can claim themselves to be sin free. And lust is but one of the seven sins beside greed, gluttony, pride, anger, vanity and laziness. And acknowledging yourself to be sinful is to recognise that one essential trait which makes us human, the consolation is that if you believe in Him, ‘he will absolve you from your sins for as long as you acknowledge and admit to your weakness’. His role is similar to that of your parents who pardons you from the mistakes you made.

If you cannot understand this simple verse, please stop being a Christian. Being in denial of this simple teaching is planting doubt and corrupting your own mind. Creating your own interpretation is pride and vanity, two forms of sin.

Having said this, I welcome you back to this world as a human, I appreciate everyone’s effort for trying to be godly or god like, but stop celebrating outward physical faithfulness as an achievement. The propensity of behaving ugly is a prerequisite of the human make you are. All men are born sinners as St Paul says. Never more true.”

⁃ Kris Lee 2020.

Live Matters No Matter the Colour

Black lives matter I know, but so are other colors. It might be trendy that when one person dims the light in support of the other, and others follow, let It not be a sinister plot against your arch enemy, or follow moody trends just because you want to feel accepted . Let it genuinely be that you are outrage and demur violence against mankind, no matter what color they are. Polarization is at its worse when race becomes the main coterie, but it is not as worst as having blind supporters who cheer for no good reason. Perhaps it is opportune and timely that more discourse should happen to iron out man’s folly. But not within the four walls of deceit, of treachery, suppression or selfish motives. Truth lies within your own heart. Ending racism is about removing suspicion and creating trust . Without that, merely looking beyond colours is certainly not good enough. Dimming the light without discouraging marginalization and you are just a blady fool that became a tool for those who doesn’t fully understand the values of our ubiquitous existence.

She Slips into Her Lingerie

She slips into her lingerie

Unperturbed by the grace she has received in all her years of sacrifices and sweltering for a good family

Although it gave her a sense of satisfaction

When everything falls into place

Nothing seems to work well where affairs of the heart and physical longing is concern

it is lost in the midst of it all

Not that she is complaining

But in her endeavor for a better tomorrow

She is still, after all, a woman

Silhouetted inside her own compound

Which is not just a garden

But a playground she hasn’t had the privilege to explore when younger

In all her nakedness

Therein lives the effeminate man tied and knotted to her for good..


To her

He is but an innuendo who pleases no one but himself

With her needs and craving bloating within

She hungers for some wayward touch

Someone who could unbox her insatiable needs with care and respect a woman craves

Someone with enough resilience to sail the storm

Someone who understands when her soil needs wetting

And leave moist on her leaves

So she could eagerly wrap her petals around him

With the same attention, care and understanding given her

A wild orchid longing to bloom

Her craving now screams louder than the crashing of waterfall happening below

And thus she rhythmically nurtures herself

Oblivious to the melodrama and reverie

Triggering herself in alternate low high arousal

Immersing her thoughts in the most luscious of cosplay

Herself as the protagonist

At other times, the willing slave

She’s on fire…


With each contraction, she jolts to the spasms reacting on her crotch

Harnessing her to wince in delight

She abandons all thoughts of the man bequeathed

For he hasn’t a clue where her hot button situates

He understands neither her needs to have her gape widened to subdue the itch

But her imagery lover does

She yearns for his unassuming gallantry

And strong reassuring arms with a thrust that could make her clamp onto his hips wickedly

And gyrate his hump

She longs for her senses to be awakened

Because she is all woman


Her needs may be inconclusive

But right now, all she cares is to soar above the clouds

With a man who could coax the child out of her

She longs to be touched, teased, kissed and kneaded

She longs to be the wholesome woman before the coming of age

To even out the missed opportunities in her teens she so often reminisces

And in her latter years as a damsel caught in distress inside a restrictive society

She wants to be carried under his pinions and more

Much more…



she slips back into her lingerie

Again she loses herself in her own thoughts and caresses

But all those delights are but momentary pleasures

For as the sun sets

What which lasts was her struggle with silence and loneliness tormenting her in the fading twilight

As she straddles silently, her grief awaits her in the cuffed room

Of false pretenses…

~ Strange Occurrences 2 ~

Out of the few places I have ever lived, Fidelio Street was the most memorable. That was way back in 1981-2. We moved into that scruffy one story terrace link which was once occupied by my 3rd Ee but now has become my 2nd auntie’s abode. As a tagger, she gave me a room at the very end which in those days I believe was the utility. She didn’t inform me earlier that we are moving off from Joo Chiat Road, till very late and when I found myself there, she told me that her whole family is going back to Penang for Chinese New Year leaving her 3rd daughter Janice who works as an assistant manager at a fast food restaurant alone with me.


If my memory serves me right, I couldn’t leave because exams was drawing near and I was catching up on some late assignments I think. Janice is today Dennis by the way after having a legalised sex changed operation in Singapore. So all’s good as I remembered the new bus route I needed to take , and carried on my routine as usual. (My routine also includes my daily diversion to Orchard Road to meet my outside friends. Rich spoilt kids but really a few of the most endearing people I have ever met).


On the first night, I found myself alone after unlocking the gate, then the main door and back to my tiny ‘cell’. I cleaned myself up and rested on the lower deck of the double decker bed provided me, with my right side of my face exactly facing the room door. Right where my toes are is one wardrobe with its side facing me and another wardrobe facing it which is the wall of the entrance where the room sits. Thus where my torso was till my legs, there was a retro sideboard with a low table top and a large mirror. Very fashionable in those days. There I placed my talcum powder, comb, hair gel, etc. My needs were simple. As I was about to catch forty winks, I could hear the main door of the house open, then closes. By the way, between my room and the main door which is the family cum living area sat the air well and the bath stall we use with a separate water closet. But all’s good as I was expecting my cousin to be home. I could hear the footsteps walking in , but instead of stopping where her bedroom was, the steps came in nearer and nearer. She must be wanting to use the bathroom I thought but the footsteps walked right through into my room! without even opening the door! I was tensed up for a moment as the steps walked to the sideboard , and I could feel the presence of someone fiddling with my things because of the sound it made. I dare not open my eyes then because I remembered my bedroom door was a latched type kind where there was no lever on the outside!


My mind was racing and I closed my eyes tightly but caught myself fiddling with the blanket provided me with my toes which is at the far end of the bed. When my hands could grab it, I covered myself with it and hid under. And I was sweating profusely not because of the warmth the blanket could bring ! I was hoping for the sound to end and whoever that is to go away . It did finally, but not until I was chanting the usual ‘Amithaba’ that all Buddhist were taught of, which is a form of protection. Whilst chanting, my mind envisions a room full of strange, very distorted furnitures almost like an attic. Not long after that scene ended, in my mind, I could only see darkness. Then a door of light opens up shining brightly, then did the whole experience normalize by itself.


I shared this with my cousin the next morning and she was also taken aback . We agreed to a time and waited for each other at the bus stop before we walked back together each evening for about a week or so, taking turns to stake out as we bath.


Many years later, as I sat back with my cousins reminiscing the old days, one cousin who used to lived there with her parents recounted one moment whilst their family was at the living watching tv , her adopted brother ( hardly 5 yrs old I think) came in to tell them that there was an old lady with long hair all white waving for him to come. That happened at the air well.


I’m sorry I don’t have a photo of that premise.



True Love

True love rejoices in truth; in being honest, and transparent; whereas fake love hides in the darkness of lies

True love makes sacrifices; whereas fake love is only selfish upon themselves

True love lasts forever, unlike physical needs or material existence; whereas fake love dies, when it is only after the flesh

True love grows, and inspires you to be a better person; whereas fake love loves fighting and heated arguments, doesn’t know how to resolve problems calmly, and destroys your good life

True love loves you and loves itself, it looks after its own health and well being, so that you could have a stronger relationship; whereas fake love hates itself, giving you more undeserving pains and problems

True love acts with trembling, not only talks but act with passion, excitement and energy; whereas fake love is nonchalant, never cares, and always give excuses instead of fulfilling promises

True love is hopeful, include you into their future plans, and never give up fighting for you; whereas fake love easily gives up, has no permanent plan for your relationship, and doesn’t treat you as important

True love is faithful, dependable and believes in you despite your shortcoming; whereas fake love is unbelieving, until they are 100% sure of you

True love is loyal, displays strong commitment, and will never cheat on you; whereas fake love is a cheater

True love trusts, and have confidence in your actions, they think positively; whereas fake love doubts, and only harbors negativity about you

True love knows and makes effort to know and understand you, so they could love you better, can read your mind and feel your emotions; whereas fake love just doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand what’s going on with you, and doesn’t care about your thoughts and feelings

True love is wise, mature, and righteous; whereas fake love is foolish, childish, inconsiderate, reckless and narrow minded

True love may be painful, but it protects you and shields you from anything that will hinder growth; whereas fake love hurts, it only gives you momentous satisfaction, it is toxic

True love is honorable, respectful of your opinions, and ambition; whereas fake love is rude, arrogant, and disregards your self worth

True love is joyful, happy, and likes to see others happy; whereas fake love is bitter, filled with negativity, and holds grudges

True love is grateful, thankful and blessed when you are around, and appreciates everything you gave; whereas fake love is envious, feels you are unlucky, and jealous of your possessions

True love feels fulfilled; whereas fake love always feels empty, greedy, and unsatisfied

True love is humble, admits to mistakes, and takes the blame unto himself; whereas fake love is proud, boastful, a credit grabber, and never admit to mistakes

True love is patient, enduring, and forgiving; whereas fake love is easily angered, quick to judge, and punishes you without mercy

True love is kind to you, generous, and compassionate; whereas fake love is cruel, gives you pain and treats you badly

(Author Unknown)

Strange Occurrences

This event happened many years ago when I was just backed from Singapore. Around 1987-1988?

It was late, around 1am in the morning and I was still sitting on my table doing drawings for my clients due to dateline. I was in the middle hall, with a doorway which opens to a bedroom on the left and a staircase to the right before one gets to the large living hall, then the driveway, then the gate and then, the road. The table I used to work on was oriented to face the front of this large semi detached house inside the hall with louvre windows flanking the entire length of the left wall. I was basically doing sketches when a flash of very bright lights zoom passed me across my left. I looked to the side, then looked down again, little did I pay heed. After a short while, I thought I heard a sound similar to a large iron ball rolling on the parquet flooring upstairs and because it is overhead of where I sat meaning upstairs I thought to myself that it could be a rat running across. But then the sound went diagonally from the other corner of the hall where I sat, and it rolled diagonally to the back of the hall, my behind. I didn’t quite pay heed because on my desk is a project screaming to be completed. The next minute, at the very same end, again that object rolled from behind me and went back to the same spot it first came from. On the ceiling. I didn’t think much about it but I knew it was kind of unusual and because it was late, I didn’t want to scare myself so I got up, and hurried upstairs to sleep.

At that time, living in this house was just my mom, my brother, my Ji Ku (2nd uncle), Devi, our maid and me. I was given the last room where my Tua Ku uses but he had passed away. Above the hall where I sat is another hall, then does it reaches my back room. I took a quick glanced at that space where I heard the sound from. But there was, just sitting there, a tall brass bed my grandma uses and some old furnitures. Nothing else. I went to sleep. This house actually belongs to my grandma. But not long after she passed on, the siblings agreed to sell it because business wasn’t doing well.


And for those who doesn’t believe in phenomenas such as this, that was quite an experience. And, it is also an unlucky house. For those who knew, that house took away two lives, my maternal grandma’s, and my Tua Ku’s ( mom’s brother), and apart from that, my granduncle’s first and second wife, though they don’t live together, all, a year apart from each other. So for four years in a row, imagine we were all wearing black. For four years, we didn’t celebrate Chinese New Year.

Mom and my 2nd auntie used to be firm believers in mediums etc and because of the string of bad luck inflicting everyone, they were told by one medium that there is something which my grandma kept which should be appropriately, in spiritual terms, sent off. So the house was bustling as they were ransacking grandma’s possessions. Grandma kept a lot of things since pre war days so the house in s way do look like an attic. And guess what they found stashed below her four poster bed? A deity (Jepun Hood) which she has not worshipped for years! Whether that was the spirit living inside the house that was disturbing everyone because of neglect, we will never know.


Long after we vacated this place, I asked my mom how did she end up in the room downstairs when she has her own, preferring to share a room with our maid? Because I noticed that , maybe six months before we moved out , but didn’t want to ask her earlier. She was older and I also thought it cumbersome for someone older to want to climb stairs. Only then did she relate to me that there was once she saw a big black genie choking her. And she got frightened. My younger brother, who was once occupying the front room facing the road, then joined in and told us he was once also strangled by a huge black genie. Whether or not it is the same black genie or not, that I can’t be sure. I did t get to see it. He also told us that at one time, in the middle of the night, he thought he heard a sound of chains dragging on the tar road outside so he got up to inspect it. Lo and Behold! he saw the two Chinese Guardian of Hades, the cow head and the horse face strapping and pulling a man across the road!


One day, I chanced upon our maid. She still oases by that house everyday because of her work commitment. She told me the night after we left, our neighbors whom she met told her they saw flashes of lights being switched on and off and the sound of what seems to be a legion of people shouting and screaming at each other. Obviously my neighbors could see everything because we share a common chain link fence.

The day when I found out that mom decided to move off from this place, I made a decision to go on my own, at the age of 24? and rented a small cubicle with its own entrance from a man whom much later became my faithful client because he generously offered me the job of designing his home where I stayed and he owns. Thus, from landlord, we too became friends after that. He told me his sister was fascinated with what I designed for him and asked if she could copy the design? So generously I said yes! without even asking for a gratuity or even asked him the location of his sisters house (although that design would have looked better with a slope access like his).

Time passes by and probably about six years later? , I went avisiting my landlord at his shop located at Chowrasta. The conversation went on and he popped the question as to where I was living before I moved into his place? He was completely overwhelmed as our conversation went one full circle to reach the doorstep of where this whole story arises, which is his sister’s home! Previously our home! (He is a Pakistani Muslim by the way)And I was relating to him this same story and experiences without realizing his sister is now occupying that house!


He told me his sister bought it and since then, together with the husband, they are facing financial difficulties as business is not moving as fast as it should etc etc. He told me his sister also had similar encounters but hers was different . She felt the presence of someone always following her each time she climbs up or alight from the stairs. At first she didn’t want to alert her hubby but feeling the need to engage an Imam to reconsecrate the home which they actually did before moving in, she then told him. The imam once again got the home re-blessed and recommended them to hang holy scriptures all over which they did! But still, that thing did not stop. They then tried the bomohs as a last resort. That didn’t work also. The uncanny thing is, his sisters family is still living there today.


A few years back when I returned to Penang and had to bypass this road, for memories sake, I had this picture taken. This was the place with the encounters.


But the story hasn’t ended.


Three to four years back, I stumbled upon my neighbor’s son who once lived next door to us. Although we don’t talk much those days and we were quite young, me around 23-24 and he was my junior, as a courtesy talk, I asked him how he and his family is, and reminiscing the old times. He told me, just what our former maid told us. He also told me of the many unrest in their house starting with his grandfather’s death and how their business empire fell. And their whole family broke up. He told me he had the house checked at the land office and through the records, there was an old (khu khar lau) bungalow on stilts that stood where the row of eight semi detached house were built on. His family also went to consult a Chinese medium who is also a seer who told them the developer did not perform the rites to appease the spirits that the land was sitting on because it was infested with many killings during the Japanese occupation period.


But the house still remains until this day, unperturbed , and oddly, as I thought to myself, why didn’t my former landlord’s sister moved out? The plague in front of the house is still there so I assumed they are still residing inside.

Today that property would have cost rm2mil because it has a vast backyard. We sold it for rm350k then.

But then again, for us in the know, who would want it?


Queer Normalcy

“The MCO is almost over. And life will soon be back to pretty normal. Like we didn’t learn a thing or two about intimacy or the lack thereof. I am overwhelmed to be able to piece all the loose ends together and set out to do things city life could not afford for the longest of time and for the life of me. I see happy faces, and sad psychiatric patterns forming in some people that I know. I see that men could thrive in smaller congested spaces.

But has men not learnt anything from it other than gazing into blank walls or scrutinizing insects and faulty lock sets in greater detail? Have we outlived our families and yearn for the mortal cagelessness? Or are we mortified by the revetments plaguing our lonelier nights?

Will digitizing help men whom are truly social creatures to sustain their liveability rather than wrecking their puny skulls and be more creative than just abuse a tool which had been there for decades and serves a purpose to only things that doesn’t need oral assessment? Have we lived the entire quarantine in anticipation of our queer normalcy?

Did we not learn something from it?

The streets are now screaming for a change of pace, and a change in how our lives operate. Not succumbing back to traffic jams, and be proud of the everyday reporting. And how about the groupings that many wanted to form but now evaporates into thinner air? Whereforth thou is men’s conviction rather than unto themselves that others need to suffer in their hands?

I wilt as a single leaf on a tree that thrives only with sun and rain but knows not what pruning will maketh a healthier more desirable growth. I crave to wake up not in suspense but to be confronted by our inner yearnings for truth, but not deceit. We need to recalibrate. We have to. For whatever normalcy means.”

Singapore Life



Part III

Right from the beginning, I have the inborn knack to create. Plans and elevation seems to be the only subject in mathematics I could comprehend otherwise I would have failed. My dad recognises my talent and I was even doing interior perspectives of our home that my dad really had them done up exactly the way I drew them. I was only 13 then. Some of the furnitures are still evident in Hutton Lane. Somehow my dad saved some when we lost our Jones Road home. The boss of the interior firm was so impressed with my handiwork, he told my dad that I should pursue this. And there you are, my career path was already written. And I was setting new standards with my brother’s double set of LEGO. I was building electric guitars, robots, buildings, and airports.



My first ambition was to be an Interior Designer. No doubt about it and I actually became one. My results was good enough to enter Bournemouth College in UK where I set my sights on but then, because my overall results weren’t impressive and funds were limited or because I didn’t exude enough trust and confidence, I didn’t get that privilege to. My sister went, but I was sent to work in the petrol kiosk we owned at Chain Ferry Butterworth instead. The reason why I was so fascinated about interior design is common sense. Without it, buildings look lifeless, just like how cosmetics could enhance a woman’s feature. I termed it ‘cosmetic architecture’. I too like fashion design and when I was working inside the architectural firm, I found myself sketching fashion and oogling at fashion magazines. My colleagues thought it crazy, not like my results in architecture was bad. I was outstanding. I even got distinctions in building construction in the second year, and not only architecture. That made my classmates from Singapore disenchanted with me. My concept was also plagiarised by a classmate in my final year design.


But my interest waned.


Because if you could have seen the firm I was working in, it was dull. My colleagues was also dull, and so was lunch. If you can feel how we need to stand in line at ‘Lau Pasat’ or the basement canteen of the building the firm was situated in, you’d understand me thoroughly. Our office was at Finlayson Green in the old Asia Insurance building now known as The Ascot. I began to appear work late. Sometimes I came up in the same lift as my boss, to the dismay of my colleagues. In fact I was propping myself not to sleep each time I was directed to work on something, and I always looked forward to my office sending me to the Building Control Department to submit proposals or do amendments. There, I got to talk to some of my Poly classmates and lecturers. It was a long walk across Stamford Road and Cecil Street no doubt but I enjoyed it. I can also drop by to MPH bookstore to entertain myself. My boss was kind. He looks a bit like Tony Curtis. In my four years, my paycheck doubly increases each year I was there. And he left it all to the draughtsmen who guided me. What I learnt from Kah Chong was his perseverance and dedication to his craft. Although I was annoyed with him once, he taught me how to measure buildings with our eyes on plan without the use of scales. My boss, Soo Seng gave me books on architecture to read. But he has an odd habit. He carries the type of school bag we use in primary, sort of a flipped open brown colored cardboard hard case. He was outstanding amongst the occupants of the same building and he moves as fast spending only two hours before noon and two hours after lunch in the office each day. At other times he’d be at the share market. And when his friends invited him for lunch, he will reduce their wishes to merely ‘Char Koay Teow’. I knew he was prudent but over excessive, but he’s nice. Really nice at least to me. No doubt about it. In office we also had Margaret who started off as apprentice whose uncle was Kah Chong and a clerk, can’t remember her name who used to speak like a melted cartoon each time her husband calls up. But I felt I was in the wrong job. I kept asking myself is this the life I want? Working for people and working eight hours a day for a mere pittance? And how long then could I save enough for a car or a home? The more I thought about it the more I felt distanced from this job.



After work, I will take the no. 176 bus and head to Dover Road. Where poly is situated. I was the gallant gentlemen in buses back then . Beit from office to school or from school back to home, never for once did I not give my seat to others. And the same few women whom we meet inside the buses would always glanced at me.

My classmates was fun too but because most of them went into National Service, our intermission is inundated with just that. Their life in the army is interesting to me, considering we don’t need to, over in Malaysia. And because I attended it part time, most of my classmates was working in different aspects of the construction field during the day and so we exchanged notes. I even received a note from a female classmate expressing her interest in me. But i wrote a note nicely back declining her advances. I can’t remember her name. But right after that, the entire gang of female classmates ignored me after that. I felt chastised but what can I do? I was not there in class to be liked anyway I thought to myself. I remembered Pulau Tekong as we went there for a camp at one time.



Outside office, Singapore life has it own fun. My daily commute from home in the East to office in the Central then to Poly in the West and then back again., makes me feel like a molecule in motion. There wasn’t MRT in those days but buses and taxis. So, depending on my schedule, it’s either one or the other. So it was year in year out (except for my regular diversion to Orchard Road to meet my friends and modelling) That became the addicted routine.



In Singapore I have three branches of friends. Colleagues, classmates, and casual ~ a bunch of outside friends which I got myself acquainted to. They are the most fun and treated me well as a friend and guest of Singapore. I must mention some of their names in particular- Desmond & Derek, Ronnie, Steven, Ivy, Connie, Janice. All in all I garnered about 100 friends. Roughly 25 a year not counting those women who always come knocking at the doors. Today there’s only one left. Her name is Ivy. A professional model turned talent scouter living in Hong Kong. They all left a big impression on me and of how naughty we were, sneaking out with Ronnie’s parent’s car in the middle of the night for supper and enjoyment, and even drove to Changi Airport from River Valley Road which was just completed. There we sat playing guitar in the stairwell. We went Sentosa island, we went swimming, went drinking, and not to mention the haggling and fights, and girls. When the cable car collapsed, we were just nearby. That was to me, the days of wine and roses. We always hung out at Orchard Rd, and I earned my badge as one of those Mc Donald boys back then at Liat Towers. Sometimes we’d meet at Yaohan Plaza or Paragon. Sometimes opposite Lucky Plaza to the sound of breakdancers performing their stunts to the beat of Michael Jackson’s ‘Beat It!’ Those were the days when Richard Gere and Julia Roberts was the idol, starring in hit movies like ‘Pretty Woman’ and ‘The Officer and the Gentlemen’. Also it was the age of Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Boy George and George Michael with his famous hit ‘Careless Whisper’. Sometimes we hung out at Key West, or Shangrila’s ‘Xanadu’ Discotheque. If we are hungry, we’d go to Newton Circus for a nice bowl of Soup Kambing or to Katong, for the famous Hokkien Char Mee or Murtabak. A classmate of mine came to work in Singapore too, contacted me and for months, he stayed with me, at my 2nd aunties place in Joo Chiat until he decided to leave for Holland to be with his mom. We also had a pop band of our own and we used to go Fort Canning jamming and use the studios up there!



After a while, I went into modelling. That was my first exposure to backstabbing, treachery and deceit. Believe me, no one is no one’s friend. And as a model you are expected never to have friends because with friends, the agent finds it difficult to offer one but not the other. We were trained in stage makeup, catwalk, deportment, etiquette, I even got a certificate in that! We used to carry with us Liechner Foundarions and rouge sticks, a back with three colours of shoes, black, brown and a pair of sports shoes. In fact it was Edwin whom I got acquainted to who helped me a lot to understand the mechanics of modelling, he being seasoned in this. I helped him once out of a fight being a hot blooded man I was, and ended up nearly sodomised by him (or was it him wanting me to sodomise him?) in his room when he invited me home. His hands were all over me in the middle of the night when I was asleep and until I realised that, I quickly turned, face down and ran off from his home in the wee hours of the morning. never to see him again. If there is anything sweet about modeling life are the women, the wild encounters and night rendezvous. Some came knocking at the apartment doors of my auntie’s home.



But the beautiful most surprising thing about these guys I knew outside my workplace and school was, they all come from well-to-do families. I even get to visit Run Run Shaw’s personal viewing room at Shaw Towers once. But we didn’t connect well to sustain for those were the days devoid of internet.

My 2nd aunt was a shifting cultivator. When I first arrived in Singapore, I was staying with her in a rented apartment in Joo Chiat Rd together with her lived in boyfriend and her three girls and a boy who rented a room from her. Then she moved to Fidelio St, then to Bedok. By the time she wanted to shift again, I was at loggerheads with her and went to stay with my 3rd Ee at Hougang and then Tampines. But my 3rd Ee’s family wasn’t like my 2nd aunties. They were modest and I could feel a genuine warmth. My 3rd Ee works hard for a living having initially two daughters and an adopted son from the brother of my 3rd Tniau. They gradually bore one more son Kenneth and again another daughter named Alvina.

Out of the few places I ever lived, Fidelio Street was the most memorable. We moved into that scruffy one story old terrace which was once occupied by my 3rd Ee now becomes my 2nd auntie’s abode. As a tagger , she gave me a room at the very end which in those days I believe, was used by the maid. She didn’t inform me we are moving till very late and when I found myself there, she told me the whole family is going back to Penang for Chinese New Year, leaving her youngest daughter Janice (she works as an assistant manager at a fast food restaurant) here. I couldn’t leave because exams was nearing I think! Janice is today Dennis by the way, after having a legalised sex changed operation in Singapore. So alls good as I remembered the new bus route I needed to take and carried on my routine as usual. On the first night, I found myself alone after unlocking the gate, then the main door and back to my tiny ‘cell’. I cleaned myself up and rested on the double decker bed, with my right side face exactly facing the room door. Right where my toes are, the end of the bed, is the wardrobe with its side facing me and another wardrobe facing it which is the wall the entrance to the room sits. Thus, where my torso was till my legs, there was a retro sideboard with a low table top and a large mirror. Very fashionable in those days. There, I placed my powder, comb, hair gel, etc. As I was about to catch forty winks, I could hear the main door opened, then closes. By the way, between my room and the main door which is the family cum living is the air well and the bath stall we use with a separate water closet. But all’s good as I was expecting my cousin to be home. I could hear the footsteps walking in , but instead of stopping where her bedroom was, the steps came behind. Just next to my bedroom is the bath and the toilet so there was nothing unusual about that but then, the footsteps walked right in, into my room without even opening the door! And I was like “Oh my God!” And the steps went to the sideboard and I could feel the presence of someone fiddling with my things! I dare not open my eyes then because my bedroom door was a latched type where it can’t be opened from the outside! I closed my eyes tightly but with my toes fiddling with the blanket I was given which is at the end of the bed! When my hands could grab it, I pulled it up and hide under. And I was sweating profusely hoping the sound would end. It did not until I chanted some Buddhist mantras we were taught when young for protection, the usual ‘Amithaba’ that all Buddhists are acquainted with. Suddenly, my mind envisions a room full of distorted furniture. Then fades away and on the next scene it was total darkness! But out of nowhere, a door of light opens up! Only then did the whole nightmare disappears and my experience normalizes. I shared this with my cousin the next morning so we promised to wait for each other at the bus stop before we walked back together each evening for about a week or so, each of us taking turns to stake out as we bathed until my auntie is back. And many many years later, as we sit back with my cousins reminiscing the old days, my cousin Madeline who used to stay there before us recalled the time when her family was at the living watching tv when her adopted brother, then still young came in to inform them that an old lady with long hair is waving at him at the air well!


Anyway, I returned to Penang after four years, to escape the concrete and clay and the color grey, as how my lecturer Tay Cheow Bin puts it. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I felt I was in the wrong job. I kept asking myself is this the life I want? Working for people and working eight hours a day for a mere pittance? And how long then could I save enough for a car, or even a home? The more I thought about it the more I felt distanced from this job. Although I miss my friends. I couldn’t stay there illegally after giving up my work permit. Thus, I went to clear my taxes etc. My auntie was surprised with my decision telling me I should not have and how stupid I was to cancel that work permit I was carrying which is very difficult to obtain. She claimed it could be kept for other jobs. Who knows? But Poly life helped in a way and taught me alot about architecture and what I’ll be getting into if I decide to become an interior designer. Where I worked, the firm did not procure enough projects that would make anyone of us excited plus the laws then was strict, pardon the language. Still is, but I believe the degree of flexibility is much better now than it was before. When I left, Raffles City just opened up, and so is Marina Tower designed by John Portman. My dad aspires me to be an architect so he could be a developer. That did not happen..

I left Singapore for good.



((To be continued))

Mom was a Socialite



Mom was a socialite, but dad always insisted that meal time is when everybody sits together at the dining table. The irony was mom seldom sits at home lest to watch us eat our meals. She adores outside food and thus with all her ‘Tai Tai’ friends, they’d cluster together over meals in the most popular of Chinese Restaurants. And because we have lived-in maids, the maids are the ones who cook for us. They are simple dishes. Tau Eu Kay or Bak Cho, and Chai Tau Char. But we enjoyed it. Since young we relish what’s served to us. But she does however prepares herbal soups needed for us to grow. Our breakfast was usually liver with fresh ginger and soy sauce basked in hot water . Sometimes bread and butter with sugar sprinkles, fresh milk from the milkman, sometimes outside food and at times, boiled eggs with Milo. Except for my brother who is quite picky, otherwise we have no trouble adjusting ourselves, my sis and I. We too enjoyed the lavish dinners combing functions, celebrations and dinners my dad is required to attend. As children, we tagged along everywhere they go. That’s executive privilege. When dad goes to work, we usually remind him in sync with this daily recital “to be good, make a lot of money and come back soon.”



Mom was close to her three sisters too. Especially my Jee Ee (2nd aunty) who is somehow always around. My 2nd aunty hos a company which organises variety shows and events in Penang. Inside her stable were Hong Kong, Taiwan and Singapore film stars and singers. I think she is quite successful in what she does because most of her stars are the very famous ones of that era. So are the band boys she manages. And together with my mom, both of them comb night clubs and bars sought of after dinner ritual if ever they are obligated to attend. Their favourite sport, drink, dance and chat till they drop.



Thus in every aspect, our school life is inundated with our parents social preoccupations so much so that we hardly have evenings of quietness. My dad had his name inscribed on the plague in his alumni , attributed to the largest donor of his ex pupils association. He was also wearing many other social hats. That shophouse in Presgrave Street is our usual haunting ground. There, we played table tennis, mahjong games or simply scribble onto the blackboards. As children, we accompany them and we had our fun. Mom’s favorite sport is talking and there, she is at utmost ease, as she acquaints herself with members of dad’s club. She has her own alumni too. In that era, there wasn’t plenty of fun places to go to. And so I guess, that’s how our parents enjoyment is integrated with ours.A one stop fun club for families. Inside this association are also a full set of musical instruments my dad had donated. They have a band of their own which were regularly invited to perform at functions or religious ceremonies such as Ko Tai’s.



Back in those days, beit at Great World Park or New World, where my dad’s association band sometimes perform, there are amusement games, merry go rounds, ferris wheel, open air cinemas and ad hoc stage. And there are in the midst, candy peddlers, kacang putih sellers. The grounds are usually sandy and wet on rainy days. Where the bands play, they usually have a sort of battle where the best of bands is judged by the crowd they could garner and thus, in between Chinese Pop songs. they will also belt out Western numbers by the spurts.



My maternal grandma’s house was smacked right in the middle of town at Aboo Sittee Lane. And her tyre shop was in Prangin Road (now Lim Chwee Leong Road). Grandma was shrew. It could have been that after the war, she took over the business left by her deceased husband (my maternal grandfather) who was tortured and died in the hands of the Japanese. Or it could have been she managed that tyre shop for there were cousins and in laws in the business registration. Grandma used to ride on human powered trishaws, her grand Mercedes on three wheels, to and from work. Because of her, we had fun riding on these trishaws , to arrive at Goh Phar Teng where we’d have the best Koay Teow Thng, Hokkien Mee and Char Koay Teow. My grandma loves to cook Kiam Chye Ark, a salted vegetable soup broiled with shitake mushrooms and duck or chicken meat. That was my sister’s favourite soup. And from Kiam Chye Ark, the soup will transform into Chai Boey which from the same soup, leftover dishes were thrown in for the extra flavour and they’d relish and relish as they keep on adding the salted vegetables and soup in. Sometimes it takes them weeks to finish just this one dish. My sister is very close to my maternal grandma so, during those days, she sometimes stays with her. And together they’d go watch those Taiwan love movies and have a good cry. I really shook my head at this ‘paying to cry” movies. That is beyond my understanding because if dad brings us to movies or makan-makan (eat out), he’d usually order more than enough beit a Sunday at the Seafood restaurant at Tj Tokong or the cafe besides Cathay Cinema.



On weekends, dad sometimes play hosts to his foreign friends and relatives who visits. He usually brought them sight seeing beit to Batu Maung, the aquarium, Batu Feringghi beaches, seafood restaurants, Snake Temple, Kek Lok Si temple or the Reclining Buddha. As children, we follow where they go to, with our Singapore cousins (mom’s side) , if and when they are are down on holiday. That is because both my Ee’s had their homes in Singapore.



At home, we too had fun. When none of the relatives are around, we will play with our Lego set, Chinese or English chess, Happy Family, Ludo, Scrabble, you named it, we have it. Outside of the semi detached house, we’d cycle, roller skate ar play basketball all day. Dad had a net fixed at the balcony corner and we too have our own personal pond. It was a landscaped feature pool, but with a bit of imagination, it became our private wading pool. Actually it started as a fish pond where dad rears his Japanese carp. Later it became a tortoise pond after the hoards of tortoises we brought home found at the land in Jln Tengah. But we had them donated to Ket Lok Is temple years after because no one likes to regularly clean the pond. We also played kites, because our neighbours kids all play kites. One minute “s”, the next minute stamps. My sis, she reads fiction. Love fiction in particular. We also have a pet dog named ‘Poppy’. Such a lovable watch dog he was. The rest, dad rears following Poppy’s demise was just that, another dog. And everyday, the Indian Mee seller staying next door to our house will bring out his pushcart. There at the corner of our house entrance he ply his trade. And we had plates and plates of his mee because it was so delicious and tasty. At night, opposite our house at the corner of Jones Close, was a ‘Chai Diam Ma’ sort of s grocery cum provision shop. In front is a Rojak Seller (a kind of salad with fruits and condiments eaten with a sticky paste made of prawn). Behind our home, dad built a badminton court in no man’s land. There we had bouts of fun games and dad will invite all his friends to have a game or two. Dad was a sports freak. My brother and I followed him to watch football at the City stadium every time the Penang team plays. Dad himself excels in table tennis winning many times in inter-school alumni competitions and my sis herself was a hurdler also having strings of medals to take home. They are the only two in the family appearing in the trophy corner. And because our house was just a footwalk to Gurney Drive, we often spent our days and evenings there collecting seashells or had fun at the beach. Or just sit there by the pedestrian walkway to wile our time away. The best thing about our Jones Road house was, then, there weren’t much cars. We can literally follow the back path towards Pulau Tikus market and back. Pulau Tikus market is where everyone living in that vicinity buys their fresh produce from and also breakfast.



But there is this place which I was literally fond of. My dad’s estate in Jln Tengah. It’s actually a pig farm he literally built himself out from scratch with the help of some sub contractors but he bought the materials himself and built his first few sheds I guess to cost save. He does that on his own by just by following the guides he gain from books. My daddy is my hero. And I can safely say I inherited his talents.

The pig farm has only one access, with three water convolvulus and hyacinth ponds to reckon with beside two streams that ran across it. And in between these ponds are rows of rambutan and durian trees not to mention banana and pink fleshy guavas. The farm flanked a paddy field. Both rivers sprang a lot of surprises. From monitor lizards as huge as goats to the Malay farmer batting fresh water prawns with their bare fingers, it’s the kind of adventure every child needs. Because every farm owner is entitled a shotgun, dad does his hunting for pests that would invade the fruit trees or the chickens living inside the estate. Sometimes to get us excited, he’d plan for evening hunts which two, or three of my paternal cousins will follow, one was my 3rd Kor’s son who later worked with my dad in the motorcycle shop then the gas shop, and the other two was my 2nd Kor’s sons, whom after school just did some odd jobs with my dad, who in a way feeds them. The farm was minded by my Tua Kor (eldest sis of my dad) and her family. My Tua Kor Tniau literally works for my dad. He was entrusted to look after the pigs. They have a VERY big family of their own and most of them resided there under my dad’s expense. Sometimes in the evenings. the lorries from the wholesalers would arrive, ready to pick the pigs to the slaughter house. And they pay their dues in cash. It is one of the most lucrative business my dad has ever been in, but because labour was scarce, dad was also half hearted. Then came the government who uses the land acquisition act to acquire the land, on the pretext of building low cost houses. The never did. Forty years later, it was sold to Suiwah for RM40 per square feet. Chong Eu, then Chief Minister was made their group Chairman. Dad was aggrieved and seek them out for a compromise where we would build the low cost houses and sell it to the government. They refused so dad brought them to court. Nevertheless, we lost. But not without a fight. Thence, we sold the land to them at RM1.38.

Inside the farm was a tool shed dad built. There, we had fun making our own imaginary space-aged gadgets or toy guns we as children played with. We even attempted at making kites. And many a time, there was the encounters with cobras who loves to hibernate inside bathrooms. Even pythons. Back in those days the new road was practically non existent, so we use the old road bypassing Sungei Ara and there at the crossroads, dad will stop to buy Cucuk Kodoks and Ham Chin Peng (Teatime Sweets). My brother and I will always sit at the river bank fishing, making our fishing rods out of bamboo sticks. They may be small cat fishes but there we were, having a great time exploring. But those were the Sundays without mom. or sis who was with my maternal grandma on most weekends. It’s like a boys club, with wildlife as friends. We did not have much luck with the durians, mangosteens or rambutans because that wasn’t our core business. The whole place is like a fruit orchard, only that gnarls of pigs is what one hears from a distance. But when they do grow, there we are perching ourselves on the trunks relishing the fruits send from heaven. Of course there were some chickens, ducks and goose. Goose acts as deterrent to snakes.



With so much happening, I felt that as children, we are very blessed because then, there was a sense of family bonding. Until life took a turn when I was about 17 years of age. The misfortune taught me alot about face value and how most of daddy’s and mommy’s friends were literally just suckers. They suck the sweetness out of you like chewing gums, then spit you out once there is no more sweet left in you. And that is how I described their friends, even relatives for the matter. Because when my parents were left to borrow, only a handful came to the fore. And got thrashed by the rest. When news spread that we are no longer doing that fine, my sis was in England. Our Chinese New Year celebration, once a festive gala crowded with scores of people, even strangers are now empty spaces filled only with faint echoes of our once booming life. Back in those days, Chinese New Year was a grand affair. We had hoards of visitors, cards from minsters, and five lion dances to reckon with, from the societies that dad and mom are active in. My dad and mom was also politically active, both serves as chairman of the parties in the districts they were involved in. I was in my teens then but I was sensitive enough to understand what was happening. All the food and drinks that mom prepares were literally wasted. It was a traumatic experience for me. One that would remain etched inside my cerebral till this day because on every CNY, these memories will creep back. Unlike most Chinese, I may be the only one who will never enjoy Chinese New Year because it was a bit too traumatic for me.




((To be continued)).

We Didn’t Have It Good Then.


Part 1.



We didn’t have it good then. I mean there’s a high degree of separation between our childhood formative years and our adolescence period. We had it sweet in the beginning but after those years transcending till teenage and adulthood, it gets more bitter as time passes. Then came the plunge.


My sister was the more brilliant of us two so she had the privilege to go UK for her further studies whilst I was, at my usual naughty self chasing skirts. I was brilliant in my primary but I guess after a few cracks on the head (one of which I can still remember the blood streaming down my face in Wellesley Primary), I think it took a toll on certain cognitive areas which affected my studies. My strength lies in creativity, I’m highly imaginative, expressive, organised, and a little obsessed with details. I am a sucker for system and to design and arrange things. Other than that, I have poor learning skills and I was always caught crying everyday when it comes to homework.


My parents weren’t highly educated because they were the caught-in-between the Japanese Occupation and most of the time, they were busy thus, mom always relied on my 2nd Ee( mom’s sis) for the planning part. Mom has two sisters , the last (3rd Ee) was younger.


Then, we were rich. In 1966, dad struck lottery. 2nd prize in the social welfare and for a reward of $60K at that time, he saw his goal changed thus he became a businessman. We moved from Jockey Road to Jones Road after my paternal grandpa passed away.


Both mom and dad thence became instant celebrities, well at least to the Chinese fraternity. Mom was a socialite and so was dad. Dad’s was more of an obligation and duty. We had everything we wanted as a child. Dad bought us games and sports equipments. And taught us all he knew. He even had a basketball net installed at our balcony so we could have fun. Compared to my brother, I was the skilful one either in aiming, in roller skates, or in cycling. He dropped out from Kungfu classes. I did not. And I earned the privilege to demonstrate my skills at Han Chiang indoor stadium at a tender age of 13. And I learnt to net balls jumping on skates by myself. We had lived in amahs, drivers, gardeners, car wash boys. And though they were both Chinese educated, they sent my sis and I to English schools whilst my brother went to a Chinese one. I guess they did not have the luxury of time to even think nor worry about our future because things were going alright. Three cousins were staying with us and sort of help to guide us when my parents weren’t around. We also have our paternal grandmother around most of the time. And most evenings, we’d be tagging along to their numerous involvement in Chinese associations, clan, societies, temples that both my parents were involved in or one of their numerous dinners . My dad had a hall named after him in Presgrave Street, being the largest donor, and he was also Chairman of his alumni for years. They also organised regular getaways for their friends – picnics, bungalow stays, travels etc and as children, I must say we were made to feel wholesome. Dad was great with children and I’m proud to say that unlike his friends who usually attends functions alone, we are always there where he was. As for my mom, she can never get attached to kids.

Dad bought a 7 acre farm in Jalan Tengah where Sunshine Square now sits, and there he reared pigs for sale. We were then the second largest pig farmers in Penang, if not the biggest. And the returns was good. (He gave that up eventually because everyone was caught in the factory bug and he found it hard to find workers to clean the pig sties. Eventually the government acquired it for a pittance claiming they wanted to develop it for low cost housing. My dad counter offered to have it developed and share the earnings with the government but was declined. It went to court. We lost. That land never got developed. It was sold to Suiwah Group instead 40 years later with Chong Eu being made the Group chairman. The government bought ours for Rm1.38/sq foot but sold it at RM44/sq ft.

That farm was the place we spent most of our Sundays at, playing, catching fishes, perching on rambutan trees etc. We had our fun whilst dad took care of his itenary and stuffs. We also owned a land in Telok Kumbar, a house in Jalan Bunga Pudak, Tj Bungah. At that time, we were living in Jones Road. The home is still there after we sold it and the owner till today, did not change the facade.

Mom never need to cook for us because we have amahs so all she does was to order them around. She enjoys that Tai Tai lifestyle. Mom hardly stayed home. She chooses to eat outside everyday and every meal if possible. So between both of them, there’s so much going on. And of course her duty of fetching us home from school which left me stranded a few times. It never happened to my sister nor my brother. I was the unlucky one I guess. We owned a Gas Shop in Hutton Lane where dad’s trading company was also based, a motorcycle dealer shop in Jln Sungei Ujong, a petrol kiosk in Chain Ferry , Butterworth, and a beauty perm parlour at Kinta Lane. Dad even had his name on his own shampoo brand called ‘Lebon’ and we were then, sole distributors for Misasa Cosmetics. Each of these companies were helmed by their trusted friends. But little did it occur to them that fate would take a down turn. How? I don’t know. We were too naive to understand but as children, we were caught in the plethora of the storm.

In between their numerous fights, I could roughly gather that dad was promiscuous. But news in later years as gathered from cousins also claim that my mom also had her fair share of flings. During one fight, my grandma was also ploughed with a flower pot meant for my dad’s head when she tried to mediate. And we cried and cried. Mom also dragged us to follow her at times because she received tips of my dad’s whereabouts but it turned out to be false news. I guess she spent a lot of her money hiring investigators to trail him. One day, mom decided to leave, taking my sis and younger brother along with her. But left me with my dad. That wasn’t the time when they officially moved. When they officially moved out from Jones Road, I was in Singapore.


Back to when chao truly happened, my sister was forced to return and so was my 2nd auntie’s daughter, both of them in UK. This eldest cousin of mine from my 2nd aunt, my parents help support them for awhile because my 2nd aunties husband, my 2nd Tniau, suffered a misfortune in his own investments. Then, he was GM of a big Singapore company. In fact he was caught first and my dad had to sell off the Jalan Bunga Pudak house to help him. (As how my dad puts it to me in later years, he succumbed to my mom’s pressure and my 2nd auntie kneeling and begging him for help) He also blames my mom for foiling his bid to get Honda motorcycle dealership direct from Japan when they came over because our sales outclass Boon Siews.) That enrages my granduncle very much because my grand uncle trusted my dad alot. My 2nd Tniau was brilliant, but succumbed to ambition and he was later sued for criminal breach of trust, which landed him in Changi Prison for 3 1/2 years. But this 2nd aunty of mine was quite enterprising in a small way even as a ‘Tai Tai’, like my mom is. Before her husband’s fate, she herself had a thriving event planning company and also serves as a ‘pop-band manager’. She organizes live appearances and performances for the rising stars of Singapore, Hong Kong and Taiwan music and film industries to perform in Penang. That was in the heydays and we as kids get to see these shows for free and had dinners and lunches with them. One of the stars wanted to bring me to Hong Kong but my parents thought I was too young to follow. I guess you could say my aunt’s family and ours was quite close at that time. And so, she ended up having to feed her three daughters in a rented apartment in Singapore and her eldest daughter has to start working to help feed their family. They lost their Green Lane house (Singapore). Eventually her two daughters grew up and flew with SIA till today, as senior flight stewardesses and the last, once Janice, now Dennis, had her sex changed, legally in Singapore. And so it was like this, ever since young, it was party, party and party for us.


And I was a dandy. After my MCE, I was asked to help in the petrol station. I rode my brother’s bike there everyday (for two years? or so) and everyday without fail, I fooled around after coming back home. Because then, I only have eyes for women and I was dead bored at the petrol kiosk. The petrol business and gas shop was in my mom’s name. And there I was, in the midst, growing fond of a woman a year older than me, who came from a gloriously rich background from Kangar. At that time, as I found out, they were the second richest family after the Kuoks in Kangar. In between, I made trips to her hometown in Perlis, stayed in her home, and she also bunked in with me once, in Penang. Before that, there were other attachments but not like this one. The next minute I knew, her parents were visiting our place. Mom didn’t like that thought I think because both of us were very young. And so I thought in later years, she arranged with my 2nd auntie to have me sent over to Singapore, to get me away from this girl, got me a job in an architectural firm and also a place in Poly. So there I landed. I was worried for myself and asked my dad if I really need to go Singapore? He said “you better go” I guess being influenced by my mom about my attachment with that girl from Kangar. Years later when I was back, this girl I was subtly stopped from seeing passed away at 22. If I could remember clearly, from brain tumour. Those days when there was no internet, we literally corresponded and anticipate the slow mails. At one time it stopped. But little did I suspect anything amiss. I did go back to her parents holiday home at Ooi Thiam Siew Rd when my days in Singapore was over, but it was all totally dark. Neither did I suspect anything because people do move. It was only one fine day at the office as I was flipping the days newspaper did I come across her obituary which was already a year old.


Eventually, after my parents separated (but not legally, because my dad didn’t sign the papers), dad moved to Hutton Lane in the gas shop we owned, with my 3rd Kor’s entire family, whose son worked for us. Dad paid for their bills even whilst his son gets his salary. My dad was always kind to his own poor siblings. whilst my mom moved to my grandma’s home in Barrack Road. I wasn’t with them when they moved and thus I didn’t have the privilege to take what was mine. At first my dad moved there too but was chased out by my mom after my Tua Ku allegedly claims my dad brought home a woman. Our family home in Jones Road was already sold then. And so are the rest of his properties except for the petrol kiosk and gas shop which was registered under mom’s name. My mom went to manage my grandma’s tyre shop in Prangin Road, after my grandma died. Unfortunately, my mom’s siblings were all vultures to a fault. No one wants to get involved in the running, but everybody wanted their share. Mom was named to manage the business because my grandma doesn’t trust her second daughter, my 2nd Ee. My mom was a kind soul and she never refuses anyone in need. And so her siblings depleted my grandmas savings and my mom, in need of cash, siphoned it from the petrol station which eventually made us lose the license. Dad was enraged. But she allowed my dad to operate the gas shop in her name. That was also the very last business we ever had. And moved my brother to work with him because he failed in his studies. Eventually they had my name and my brothers name inside the company but that was because my 3rd Kor’s son and his wife made a proposal to invest and dad agreed. After some years when they decided to venture on their own, my sis told my dad to relook at the accounts and that was when discrepancies were found. My cousin’s wife begged for mercy and eventually my 3rd Kor’s entire family moved out , so the company was again transferred back and remained with us. When dad passed away, my mom gave the key to the safe and running of the business to my brother because he was already working there with him and knew the ins and outs. I was caught in my own problems and gave my share in the company to my sis in law. That company was a disaster and day by day, I saw my dad continuously ran short of funds that he needed to borrow. Not like there wasn’t business and his overheads was low. I suspected something amiss and not until a year and a half later did I manage to convince him to look into his accounts and discovered that the company was actually making money! But that he spent it all on his gambling! He spends roughly RM6K per week on four digits alone. So before I left the company, I updated his accounts till the day I left. I liase with his accountant and they were all amused at my hurried effort. Apparently, dad did not update his income taxes for more than 15 years. The rest, I thought, was for my brother to worry about. I devised a plan for him to settle the sum owed and the loans he borrowed from. In three years, he’d be doing well and so I hoped. He agreed. The money came, his debts settled and as fate takes its toll, a few months later, he passed away. Somehow when his loan was settled as I sat there talking to the lenders, I could see a relive in him like a heavy burden came off his shoulder. But he didn’t live the day to see a better future before him.


And so there I was, living with my 2nd auntie in Singapore whilst shuffling day and night working in an architectural firm, and nighttime, Poly. After some disagreements with her, a year or to later, I moved in with my 3rd Ee. I guess mom had a little arrangement with my aunties then but as for my own expenses, sometimes it didn’t come on time and I had to borrow money from my classmates, for my daily living. Mom ran grandma’s business and when coffers depleted, she borrowed alot to keep us going and trying her luck at the one-armed bandits at the Chinese Merchants Club. She struck twice but being greedy, she gave everything back. On her first strike, she let me keep her money. We convinced her to buy a home. But only two days after, what went into my account came out and returned to the one arm bandit. On her second strike, she let my sis kept her money. My sis didn’t return her. And so I thought it better to fend for myself when mom was in her darkest of days. What I got from the architectural firm was mere pittance, as I was only an apprentice then. So I went into modelling for some extra cash. Not that I wanted it, but I needed it. Also, I thought I was young, energetic and able and thus, I can exploit my looks to good use and that helps keep me alive so that I do not need to further burden my mom. Four years I stayed in Singapore, and came back to Penang in 84.



(To be continued)


“You are my tender flower of the night

And I am your gardener

I tend to you

So that you will continue to bloom

and blossom

and flourish

Not wilt

Without sunlight

So that the bees may take interest in you

And the weeds will not choke you

And you are self assured being where you are

Once dejected

But now again chosen.

I feel elated and rejoiceful

So that I could go tend to other flowers

as well and make the whole garden bloom

With a life of its own

Although I spent my whole life

as a gardener

I don’t have the privilege to own

any flower.

As much as I wanted to.”

(Author Unknown)


18+++ Warning! Do not read further if you’re underage or your country law does not permit, Thank You.



She came in, we paused and looked at each other. She made a coying stare as she flicked her long tresses which felt like 10 minutes. And then we kissed. Aggressively for several minutes before I moved her onto my lap.



We were both attached , she, a mother of two, but I could tell that made it more exciting, for both of us. I started to undress her, as she took my t-shirt off and I picked her up and threw her onto my bed . I wasn’t expecting anyone tonight , but she made the call. I am half guessing she wanted it badly..,



I remember she laughed…



I started kissing her body… starting with her ears and her neck; I could tell she was getting aroused as she bit her lips. I moved slowly down her body, giving her plenty of pleasurable pecks around her breasts while I rubbed my hand up and down the inside of her leg.



She was fair skinned. A bit fleshy, but naughty. But that’s how I like it. She was always discreet, eager to experiment and tight lipped.



I started kissing her lightly around her areolas , and she opened her mouth. She stared blank into my eyes and at this point, I could tell she was extremely turned on. I unbuttoned her jeans and took them off. I started rubbing her crotch and her panties were soaked.



She reached for my crotch as I had a massive erection which was obvious given I was only in one of my looser cotton shorts. She pulled my penis out and moved over to start sucking on it. I said “No, I also want to go down on you” and she said “well I want to suck your cock”.



So we did a sixty/nine.



Before long, juice started flowing and I could feel her uneasiness by her writhing and her legs squashing me and so we decided to start having sex. We didn’t use a condom. I’ve never liked it and without it, the encounter was rastafaric and wreckless. She wasn’t concern at all at that time. From her blooded red lips , I could feel her arousal.



She started riding me for a bit until she came and then we changed positions where I was standing just beside the bed, holding one of her legs up. I love her toned legs.



Eventually, we moved to doggystyle. After three minutes in doggystyle, she stopped me and asked if I wanted her anal. I had said “Oooh! Hell do I love it! But are you sure?” She said “Yeah, that’s one of my fantasies. But just go slowly”. We didn’t have any lube but my penis was already wet from her vagina. At first I gave her a tongue fuck on her anus and then, I gently put it in her ass and I could hear her gasp slightly. I moved it in and out slowly for a bit. Gosh! it felt so tight…!” I tried to last as long as I could.

She finally started saying “I’m coming !” and within seconds after that, I came as well.




(Author Unknown)


18=== (Please do not continue reading if you are underaged or if the laws of you country forbid it, Thank You.)



I’d like to pet you ,

with both your arms reaching behind my head,

your beautiful hair cascading down your back,

and I am right behind you…

holding onto you…

my naked body rhythming your own,

my hands,

now fondling your slightly engorged breasts…



I’d like to watch you bite your lips,

letting off an inexplicable moan,

feeling the ecstasy of my fingers exploring your curvature

till wetness streams down your lower pelvis…



And we were both naked.

Clumsily we have tossed our clothes onto the sand…

to the buzz of fireflies,

against the shadows that cascades upon the rocks.

In the glow of the silvery moonlight.

Like Adam & Eve,

you and I are now one in tune with the nature,

The warm lazy breeze caressing your skin,

and the sounds of roaring waves pounding the shores

like two eager lovers mixing in delight…



I’d like to pet you,

continuously flicking your love grapes with my tongue,

till you writhe for breath…

my arms,

one propping up your dainty armpit,

the other,

stealthily trailing down your abdomen,

to where your muff is,

a finger away from your pelvic bone,

encircling your cropped turf,

playing lightly at the hairs,

as my lips peck your neck,

and nape at your shoulder blades,

till you squirm and bloom,

till your love juice flows out…

moistening your yearning cunt…

till you succumb to the erotic waves of pleasure touching…



And with that same hand,

I lifted up one of your slender legs,

Lightly perching it onto the exposed roots

of the tall imposing Casuarinas

Oh those endless thighs…!



The warm breeze now glides through your crotch,

Permeating your senses,

as I guide my fingers in through the eager parted folds

Your moist now trails its river down my fingers



The strokes was enticing,

and exciting,

deeply satisfying even to the protagonist…

as it went from strong to weak, then strong again…

Working back and forth with the heightened pleasure…

which leads you to unimaginable crescendo…

Sometimes fast, at times slow…

till both your legs tremble,

as you squirm to the heat

till you signal for more…



Your slender fingers now slides down

cusping your own grassy patch,

enjoying that sensation enveloping your entire abdomen,

before you guide your slender fingers to glade behind

in search of my love rod as you now hold…

and held me grimace,

the same moment as my fingers slither in to yours…



Both our gyrations are now in harmony

As we both sway in tune,

with the wrestling leaves…

That continuous wrenching and sweet torment from the repeated trance

As my fingers now roar faster and faster, and faster,

your knees now made weak from the nail biting pleasure…

Your legs now shiver

Your breath in luscious gasp…



And then you said

“Don’t stop darling, don’t you stop! I’m coming soon darling ohhhhh…!

As you grip tight to my hips…

I held you firm, fondling you from behind…

as you now peak in pleasure

And then you utter

“Oooh…ooooh…. ooooh…. ohhhhh ohHHH OHHHHHHH OHHHHHHHH That’s it! THAT’S IT! I’M COMING… I’M COMING…. I”M COMING!!!

and like a big tent acrobat, I flipped you over, both my hands now grip your buns,

my mouth pressing tightly on your lower muff

As you let off a huge moannnn….!

The gush was strong as waves and waves of pleasure surmount your whole being!

Relishing the loving wetness, I swish back and forth with my tongue,

And you manage to glance at me

through half opened eyes

Looking at me in that kneeling position, sucking into your gushing love hole

was too much to bear…

It makes you even hornier than you thought you are incapable of,

as the images of my orientation keeps on flashing inside your head, sending you now into pure ecstasy !



I grip onto you firmly…

That you could enjoy the thrashing waves of orgasm now hitting you in spurts…

connecting you with the nature we lay bare!

And the contractions you feel all over your pelvic region has become a reservoir that just burst its embankments!

Flooding your gape which spurts so much of sweet loving juice!



You now know you needed a little propping up as your limbs now weakens

As you glance down, you saw me gripping onto you ever so tightly

And you smile a little smile…

feeling at peace because he is right here with you, holding onto you ever so tightly

as you did him…





(Author Unknown)


18+++ (REMINDER)

Please do not carry on reading if you are underaged or your country law forbids.


“How sweet it would be, to see you there, lying on the bed, anticipating my presence”…

“How sweet it would be, to relish your contour, basking under the pale glow of the moon as I approach”, I thought for awhile…


I entered…



Part 1

And there you were, lying face down, like a slumbering Aphrodite, your skin, smooth as silkened powder, your fragrance, enveloping the room , overcoming my senses…

Just like how I anticipated.

“Oh my lover of the night whose soul doth connects to mine…”, I thought to myself, as I whimper sweet nothings into your ears whilst your eyes lay closed …



Part 2.

And there I was staring at you, and staring at myself from the reflection in the mirror. Through the faintly glow, there I was, quenching my thirst, with my fingers at your nape.

You quivered with pleasure…

On bended knees, I stoop, there I caressed your supple skin .

You turned over and smiled as I slowly lifted the strings that helm your nightie…

You trembled to the sensation of that cold air now pelting your skin…



Part 3.

My mouth now explores the silkened length of your legs, relishing its way to your feet, caressing each dainty toe, tenderly taking them in one by one, into my mouth, hearing you let out a silent moan…

(A gush of juice now flows and wet your panties..)

My tongue, now inching along, teases your ankle with little pecks… as both my hands caresses your feet..

You were gasping in delight… mouth wide open, eyes in trancelike state, again, letting out a yearning moan…

(You felt a heightened sense of pleasure, a litany singing from heaven now overcoming your body..)

And you said “Gosh Darling, Give it to me nowI I want it now! Oh Please!!!”, as you spread your legs wide…)



Part 4.

You were trembling and thrashing, as you gripped and swirl on the bedsheet, your head tossing, your mind swirling, your hair ruffling in a state of pure ecstasy..

Your nails now bite into my back, your legs, lifted, a little higher, gyrating to the rhythmic motion of my intimate dynamic humps.

“Take me! Take me!” you said!

Flesh to flesh, skin to skin, two luscious soul connects and rocks..

Organ to organ, sweat to sweat, moist juice smacking on their pubic hairs, as you held on tightly but firmly, my face limping over your neck, licking the sweet drips of perspiration warming your ears…



Part 5.

Your nipples now stays erect, perched in gay abandonment brushing my torso… and the trash, at first slow, has now sped in tango. Both legs, once rodeoed, are now clamped, muscles gliding as they rub in intimacy, they are now locked over my back.

Such pain, such pleasure, your hands now gripped my face as you push your lips to meet mine!

“Give me your tongue” you said, as you thirstily quench on my saliva until you squirm and let out a Big BIG moan! Your pussy pulsates and contracts as it churns and swallows my engorged phallus. In an expletive moment, I too came! Spurts after spurts, giving the cunt the last few poundings it deserves!

“I want it inside my mouth!”, you said as you slid below my torso, slurping like s wild crazy creature, taking in every drop of love juice that you possibly could fit into your mouth. You swallowed, fingers guiding the spillovers, as you drank in all the nectar. “Now you’re inside my body”, you said with a sensuous glee.

You held onto me tightly…




Part 6.

For a fleeting moment , there you are, laying motionless, succumbing to the feeling of ecstasy tinglng your skin and swirling inside your mind. You managed a few giggles as your body lays limpid to the sweet moist of love and lust both mixes in the concoction of the excitement you both planned. You wanted it so much. A far cry from the placid days spent lying there whilst your husband trounces you for his own selfish pleasure without caring for your needs. You lay there wondering, if this romance and discreet intimacy could go on and on, and on…

You wanted it so much to be able to unleash the hidden facets of your longings, trappings of a sex starved woman you knew you were, and for your body to be held and kneaded at the right places. That arouses you. That you know now, is the ingredient which makes the whole bonding heavenly.

And that is what, satisfies you immensely…

Most of all, you wanted to be able to orgasm as much, over and over and over again and feel the sensations lasting on your crotch, arising from the heat and madness with the wonderful lover you have found.

As you lay there, you could here the sounds of shower coming from the bathroom. And smiled. The contractions wasn’t over…

You ran your fingers over your abdomen and down your love hole. You inserted your fingers in and moaned. Now it’s even more sensitive to touch. And you loved it. “What a wild lover”, you thought to yourself. “He’s hot and perfect in every single way..,

And he alone could ignite the flame inside of me…”

The shower door opens and there he stood, the Greek god of sex you were endowed with.

And another tingling sensation envelops your being. “Honestly, I know I am insatiable.” you thought to yourself. “But how could he have made me not think of anyone else except him alone?!” And even when I’m not with him, there’s this longing that bodes into emptiness inside my heart, the longing for his presence, and touch. “Oh how it hurts!”




I collected my clothes.

Again I approached my sweet Aphrodite and onto her body, I planted kisses. The forehead, the cheeks, the neck, the lips. And went down again to the other lips. Again she moaned. Again she spread her legs.

I smiled.

“Don’t go yet darling, stay with me for a little while more ?” , you were heard saying as I adjusted my self up from the love nest.

I went to your side, holding your hands in mine, feeling your fingers interlocking mine…

I gave it a reassuring squeeze…

And I said “Dear, I am yours, for as long as the river flows, mine will flow to your heart.”

I adjusted my shoelaces, then my tie.

“Never ever forget that, my soulmate, and I heart you.”

And again you pounced onto me, hungrily searching for my lips! I could feel your needs. And I let you. Brushing your hair off your face, my hands now flicking and embracing your gorged nipples…

The door remains closed.

My schedule again changes.

For the umpteenth time…






(Author Unknown)

Extended quarantine

The quarantine has been extended but to some professions, they are allowed to operate on conditions that they first need to apply for a temporal license, risk closure if customers and staff should come in contact with the virus and bears all costs towards their treatment. Logically, there is no good reason why it should open now when the city is dead, no one can travel more than 10 km from their abode, and close proximity not only endangers your customers but to yourself as well. So, to all the other professions who has been given the green light and are adamant to operate, be vigilant and good luck in your safe distancing practice. The government wants you to bear full risk if I may be so rude to inform you !

Hibernating Discreetly

“A head of a family went to a religious gathering without his family’s knowledge. Even after the virus alert came on, even though he knew he was a potential risk, he hibernated himself inside a hostel with his son. He didn’t tell the slightest soul that he went to the gathering. And so he stayed In the hostel with his son, alongside many others. Suddenly he had the symptoms and present himself at the government hospital. The question is why did he do that? And how many did he infect along the way besides his son who is now also like him, has tested positive?

And who has the time to summon those who unknowingly stayed at the hostel to come forward so that the health authorities and police could trace the many many more downlines who has come in contact with the people who occupies the hostel besides his son and him?

In this world there are many souls like him who have no ounce of civic consciousness in them. Is it because of upbringing, denial, fear or religious invincibility? These are the people we have to be concern and worried about. These are the maniacs I was referring to.

And so our cases multiply. And multiply which directly affects the extension of our quarantine. Should the authorities impose stricter penalties and punishment to people such as him? You tell me.

But I’m in no mood for longer MCOs really!”


Why do I see so many Air Force Hercules and helicopters up in the air today? A reconnaissance drill during the MCO? How about the barb wires on some apartments? You think foreign workers are animals? In the first place, our test kits with an accuracy of 30% should be discarded otherwise it shows anomaly on the daily report. On top of that, there should be a ten fold increase in current test capacity of 2k psns/day. If not, our holiday will never end. Not unless that’s your desired outcome.

Common Class Policy

“There is only one common denominator that cuts across the world right now ranted by all their country leaders. “Stay at home”. Other than that, they don’t share a common class policy to ensure their citizens welfare and survival. Soon, there’d be many more whom will die of hunger than those afflicted with the virus. So, Get real government!

You place emphasis on civil servants and the working class simply because they represented the larger majority to ensure your stay in power but without a clear aid to the SMEs which is determined by IRS and its interpretation”, such businesses from hairdressers to tyre shops to travel agents and, even architects are now on the conveyor block heading towards doom! By then, those whom you’ve aided would be sprawling down the streets because the employers have no avenues to retain them when the landlords are ‘left off the hook!’. Thus, ‘Urging’ them to reconsider and be sympathetic is not good enough. A rise in robbery cases would be your first indicator in policy failure when the unemployment statistics hikes.”