Our Daily Bread

A walk round the fish market in Tai Po is always distressing for me, to see the 'fresh' fish, prawns and clams all cramped up in different small tanks of water. Hong Kong people like their seafood 'fresh', hence the fishmongers would keep them that way, alive and 'swimming' in their tanks! A close look will tell that many of the fishes are in fact gasping for their breath, some overturned and barely alive; some have turned color (like the salmons when they are about to die following their arduous journey upstream to lay their eggs.)  I always wonder if the fishes are suffering being cramped up with hardly any space to move/swim, let alone have oxygen to breathe! I once saw an eel being chopped into two and placed in a stainless steel pan, the two halves still slithering in its own blood, the head not sure if it still had a body! 

Is there a better way to offer fresh fish to customers? In Singapore, the wet markets sell the day's catch, spread out and displayed on a bed of ice, albeit dead; fresh nonetheless and to me, more agreeable in presentation as I don't have to feel guilty seeing a live flapping fish brought up, descaled and its entrails taken out in front of me!  

Food, glorious food...

On a similar note, what about our domestic animals of chicken, pig, goat, sheep and cow which provide us with our daily protein sustenance - if only we can have a better and more humane way to slaughter them in the abattoir  Have you seen the film, Food Inc? I can't bring myself to see it...but was told of battery chickens, conveyor belt cows being milked (and later slaughtered for meat). As for pigs, goats and sheep, I cannot provide any information here because that VCD is still lying on my shelf! I know of many friends who have chosen to be vegan or vegetarian because they strongly advocate non-violence to all living things. I have a lot of respect for them.

A family friend who is a Theravada monk once told me this: whenever we eat, the taste of the food in our mouth last only a few seconds; because once swallowed, it is food, just like any other food for the body. Why then do people go to all lengths to pay for expensive gastronomic meals cooked by Michelin Star chefs?  Hmm...food for thought...still, it vex me to have to search my mind each day as to what to cook for dinner for James?...which is what brings me to the Tai Po market...    

                                       Our bodies are our gardens;
                                       our wills are our gardeners.

                                                       -William Shakespeare-   

   

Genocide!

This is a newspaper clip showing the Philippine government crushing five tons of their stockpile of elephant tusks early this year. Two weeks later, the Hong Kong customs seized 1120 elephant tusks, 13 rhino horns, 5 pieces of leopard skins. Of the 1120 tusks, it was estimated that at least 500 of them were from adolescent elephants!

Three days ago, the Environmental Investigation Agency (EIA) released a photo of a dead elephant being poisoned by cyanide. Poachers are now using cyanide to poison the salt licks of watering holes and about 90 elephants have been poisoned in the Hwange National Park in Zimbabwe. 

Today's news said that the Hong Kong customs found 198 ivory tusks in a ship container covered by sacks of soy beans. That's another 100 elephants killed! The container was from the Ivory Coast, bound for China.       

Will this ever stop? I'm sure many people are like me when I was working. Yes, we are too busy with our lives, working to bring up the children, to pay our mortgages, that the last thing we would think about is an elephant in far away Africa, being killed for its tusk and leaving behind a baby elephant to fend for itself; or whether it even has a chance to survive?!   

But when the National Geographic mentioned that one elephant is killed every 15 minutes, that should bother us and get us thinking. Will our children and our children's children be able to see what an elephant looks like? or a rhino for that matter? There are many endangered species which will not last another generation at the rate that illegal poaching is allowed to go on and government agencies condoning the ivory trade, as in the case of elephants. The EIA said that ivory trade has gone commercial; and if we do not do our part to put in a concerted effort to urge all governments to ban the ivory trade; the magnificent elephant species, the largest land mammal will be gone...and the impact on our ecological balance will ultimately affect all humanity. 

Today is World Animal Day and in many cities all around the world, concerned people together with celebrities are joining together to march and show their support for elephants. The aim is to bring a clear message to all governments to burn their stockpile of confiscated ivory and more importantly to ban the ivory trade! The Hong Kong Elephant Walk was led by our own home-grown celebrity, Sharon Kwok who is also a Conservationist. Yes, I was there today, in solidarity with the many supporters, including school children, in Canton Road, urging young people, especially the mainland Chinese tourist to help us in our cause and to bring the plight of the elephants to all their friends in China.  

                         The awful wrongs and sufferings forced upon the 
                         innocent, faithful animal race form the the blackest 
                         chapter in the whole world's history.

                                                        -Edward Augustus Freeman-
                          

A Desperate Link

When I was working in Client Services in a hospital in Singapore many years ago, the first thing I would do each morning when I arrived at my office would be to visit the Intensive Care Unit. A walk round the unit is a very humbling experience, at least for me, to see the patients, young and old, in critical condition, with numerous tubes attached to them, some conscious but weak; some sedated and some hooked on to respirators to help them breathe, all of them clinging on to dear life. I can't help but be moved by compassion for them; it brings me down to earth, to appreciate what I have and to be grateful that I can walk and do my day's work, no matter how demanding. Yes, I was the observer here, but in the uncertainty of things as we know, I could be on the other end, the observed. It can happen to anyone...

Here in the Intensive Care Unit or ICU in short, is the place where patients and their families are most vulnerable, and here was where my staff and I found the most job satisfaction - to be with them, helping them to serve as a conduit to the doctors, sometimes arranging the religious to visit and joining the families in prayers. In short, providing the much needed emotional support during their times of need.   

Once my colleague, Masai was looking after a young Japanese couple, Hayato and his wife, Mieko. They were on honeymoon in Bali when the van that took them on an excursion met with an accident and Hayato was thrown out of the vehicle. The impact caused a serious head injury that sent him into a coma. Mieko on the other hand suffered only minor cuts. Hayato was taken to a local hospital where medical care was limited; and on the second day, he was evacuated by air ambulance to Singapore, where Masai was called to help to translate for the doctors trusted to his care.

Hayato remained in coma for 5 days. During that time, Mieko did not leave his bed side. On each of our visit, we could see her tenderly caressing his arms, touching his face, whispering into his ears, kissing his hands, sometimes tearful; at other times, a strong resolve could be seen on her face, as though she was certain that this would be a short ordeal and that soon she and Hayato would be able to return to Japan to start their new life as a married couple. 

Masai visited her daily in the ICU to reassure her and soon a bond developed between the two of them. Masai would buy food for Meiko to ensure that she got her daily sustenance; they would pray together at the bedside of Hayato or sometimes she would be just sitting silently by her side, holding her hand.   

I will always remember the morning Masai called me on the phone, telling me that Hayato had passed on. I rushed up to the ICU and found Meiko huddled on the floor outside her husband's room crying, and Masai holding her arm by her side. After the doctor had certified the death, we went into the room with Meiko to see her husband. He looked peaceful; but Meiko was inconsolable, crying and calling out his name. We were crying with her as we tried our best to console her. After sometime, the nurses came in to explain that they had to do the usual preparations; the tubes were disconnected, drainage bottles removed, intravenous fluids taken down.  

It was at this moment, in her deepest grief and seeing the lifeless body of her husband on the bed that Meiko made that decision - she wanted Hayato's sperms preserved; she wanted to have Hayato's child! She wanted something of Hayato to hang on to, to keep this desperate living link with him. At this request, we had to start the process fast as time was crucial to ensure that Hayato's sperms were still viable. A Urologist, Dr Tan and a Gynecologist, Dr Wong who specializes in IVF procedures were called in. Together they managed to extract the sperms which were then kept frozen in Liquid Nitrogen in the hospital's sperm bank. As everything was explained to her and the necessary documents signed, Meiko felt safe in the comfort that a part of Hayato would still be with her. She knew that when she was ready, she could come back for the procedure; but if by x number of years she did not come to claim it, the sperms would be destroyed. 

Hayato's parents came from Japan the next day; it was sad to see the old couple mourning for their son, the father kept his eyes closed as doctors explained the condition to them. It was as though by closing his eyes, it provided a shield, that what he was listening to was a narration of another person, not his son's. The following day, with the help of a funeral director, Hayato's body was flown back to Japan with his family. 

We never heard from Meiko since, but I can imagine the sorrows she went through as a young widow, having to pick up the pieces of her life again. Time heals I'm sure, and she would have had the support of her family and friends to help her. 

When I met Dr Wong many years later, he told me that Meiko never came back for the sperms, hence they were destroyed. For Meiko, a chapter of her life has closed; she has moved on. Our prayers are with her as we wish her all the happiness she deserves in life.    

                                   Can I see another's woe
                                   And not be in sorrow too?
                                   Can I see another's grief
                                   And not seek for kind relief?

                                                      -William Blake-        


P/s: The names mentioned here are fictitious, to protect the privacy of the people involved.                   

Such cruelty!

The Straits Times, Singapore 1 June 2011

This picture and news made me sick! A poor cow was viciously abused while being pulled into an abattoir box for slaughter in Indonesia. It caused an outrage and actually prompted the Australian government to suspend live cattle export to Indonesia at that time. Some of the cruel treatment cited and as quoted in the papers were: 

1) Abattoir workers break a bull's tail and gouge its eyes and nostrils repeatedly in failed attempts to get the animal on its feet despite a broken leg.
2) cattle are seen tied and trembling as they watch other cattle slaughtered and skinned in front of them.
3) workers hack animals' head off with blunt knives causing a lot of distress and pain. 

Such cruelty! Even if we have to have its meat for human consumption, animals should be treated humanely and more compassionate methods should be used for slaughtering in abattoirs. I sometime wonder if animals produce a certain hormone or a chemical reaction that may alter the composition and hence the quality of its meat in such distressing condition of agitation and pain?  Hmm..food for thought.

This reminds me of my friend Sushila, when she related what she saw in Colombo, Sri Lanka when she was 15 years old. A couple of men were trying to get a cow to slaughter and oh, how the cow resisted, refusing to budge, mooing and grunting loudly. "It was as though it knew that they were going to kill it!" Sushila said. Her detailed description of the cruelty imposed on that cow was the same; its tail was bent over and broken, it was beaten harshly with a stick, tugged roughly at the strings that was strung round its nostrils, kicked, pulled and shoved until it was down on its side. One of the men then took a big blunt knife and started to saw at its neck, amid a loud cry from the cow. "Blood was flowing all around., and the poor animal  was twitching," Sushila said sadly, adding "and I will never forget that cry from the cow!". At this point, she could not go on and I could not bear to listen anymore...but from that day on, Sushila became a Vegetarian and still is, 50 years on. 

Just to share my thoughts here. I feel cows are such gentle animals; they don't hurt us and they eat only grass. They give us dairy products and in many countries, they are used as draft animals for pulling carts and plows. Even their dung are used as manure and fuel! Then when they die, their skin can be used for leather goods. For these reasons, I don't see a need to eat them. Besides beef is red meat, high in cholesterol. 

I am not advocating that we all be vegetarians, but perhaps we can buy less, consume less, avoid excesses and consciously play our part in sustaining our ecological system with all our animals. They too have their roles to play in it.   

It is worth reading Nik Taylor's research, Distanced from death: animal cruelty at the abattoir  http://www.abc.net.au/unleashed/4588016.httml.  Something that we try not to think about, but is an everyday reality. 

                 
                  All the arguments to prove man's superiority cannot shatter 
                  this hard fact: in suffering, the animals are our equals. 

                                                                          -Pete Singer-
             



                

. 

A close shave in Jakarta

10 years ago today, I had a close shave with death. I was in the Marriot Hotel in Jakarta, Indonesia on 5 August 2003 when a suicide bomber drove a car up the driveway and detonated a bomb that totally destroyed the front portion of the hotel, its lobby and the Sailendra Restaurant by the side of it. 13 people were killed in that blast and 150 people injured. I was lucky to escape, but the blast has left me with a deficiency of hearing in my left ear. 

I had just arrived in Jakarta from Surabaya that morning and took a taxi to the Marriot where I checked in at 1130 hours. I remember being very impressed with the spacious hotel lobby and the ceiling-high glass that surrounded it. I was then shown to my room 23 floors up. As usual, I started to unpack, kept my passport in the safe deposit box and settled to call my clients to confirm meetings. When I could not get them on the phone, I looked at my watch, it was 1220 hours, lunch-time. I decided that I too should have my lunch before starting the frenzy of meetings and visiting healthcare institutions. 

I took the lift down to the lobby, and as I walked out, I noticed there was a queue to the Sailendra Restaurant on my right, which was packed with the lunch-time crowd. I thought I might as well use my time to explore the lobby instead of joining the queue; but something held me back. I was afraid I could not get a table for lunch! So I went back and joined the queue.  It soon came to my turn. A young waiter came to me, "Do you have a table for one?" I asked, guilty at the thought of occupying one table to myself when they were so crowded. He replied, "Give me one minute" and went into the cafe, turning towards the window area where one could look out of the hotel. I remember being elated that I was going to get a window seat with a view! 

That was when the bomb went off! Everything happened all at once, a loud shattering sound, the lights went off, and people screaming and rushing out of the cafe! I was still standing there, frozen, not knowing what was happening! A big pillar on my left had sheltered me from the blast! In their panic to get out, people were pushing me around. I turned and saw some people running to the left side of me, while some were running to the right. In my daze, I followed the people to the left and scrambling with them, we came to a stop and crouched down. I looked up and saw that we were outside the toilet door! A dead end! I noticed that the girls huddled with me were hurt and had blood running down their faces, with cuts on their forehead, neck and arms. They were crying. I was murmuring my prayers to God to help us. 

A few minutes passed, then we heard a voice shouting, "Lari dari sini!" (run from here). We got up and followed one another, navigating slowly through the thick shattered glasses strewn all over the floor. There was no lobby, just a big open gap and fire was raging on the far end to our left.  I could only take small steps as it was slippery walking on broken glasses; and was heading towards where I knew the entrance of the hotel to be. There was a big crater on the ground and walking round it, I managed to come out into the open air. I crossed the small road and facing the hotel, I realized what I had just narrowly escaped, a terrorist attack! 

I was still in a daze and saw people running out; fear and panic on their faces, some with their shirts drenched with blood. Outside was pandemonium, with the sirens of police cars and ambulances as they converged to the hotel. Then I noticed a guard sitting by the side of the road, his head and hands dripping with blood. Suddenly a girl with a glass shard still on her bleeding forehead came to pull me down the road, away from the site. I realized later that she had feared there may be another bomb, just like the one in Bali, where many were killed by a second explosion while running out to escape!   

A young man came by and took me to the Singapore Embassy nearby. We were the first to get there and when the Embassy staff saw my blood-stained blouse, they thought I was hurt - but on close examination, I had no injuries. The blood spattered on me were from those injured during the confusing rush-about. 

I give a lot of credit to the management of Marriot Hotel in the way they handled this emergency. They mobilized a team of people to help, called all the Embassies to locate their guests, arranged an alternative hotel for us, and reassured us that we would be able to get our belongings from the damaged hotel. (Indeed they did get my passport and money from the safe box to me late that night!)

That evening, as we gathered in the hotel, strangers became friends, emotionally bonded by a tragedy that could have taken any of our lives; as each of us tearfully related our story of how we got out from the carnage. Although all of us were shattered by the disaster, some were clearly traumatized. One man started to cry, as he recalled seeing a chandelier dropping on a group of young office workers who had just come out of a conference for their lunch break. He was sitting in the lobby lounge which was on the opposite side of the Sailendra Restaurant. Another told us how they had to break a window and tried to jump down to the car park but it was too high, so they followed a cook, and ran through an "endless corridor" until they came to the back of the hotel! Yet another said that while running out, his friend froze halfway, unable to run, paralyzed by fear! He had to forcefully pull him along!  

Many of us left for home the next day. As I sat in the airport lounge waiting for my flight to Singapore and watching the news of the bombing and casualties on television, a sudden overwhelming emotion swept over me and I could not contain my tears! It was more a guilt feeling that I had not helped those injured when I was there! Shock and disorientation got the better part of me that day. The sight of the bleeding semi-conscious guard was to remain in my memory for months!

Many of the injured, especially those who suffered burns, spent months in hospital. I shuddered at the thought when I read in the papers that one man spent 2 years in hospital treating his burns followed by a series of skin grafts!    

Divine grace saved my life that day, and I am ever thankful to a Merciful God who not only loves us but is the unseen presence with us, near us, guiding and helping us as we face the demands of each day. All we need is to be aware; to do good always and to live our lives pleasing to Him, our God of all good and compassion. 

I sing with the Psalmist: 
                                       "Make us know the shortness of our life
                                        that we may gain wisdom of heart."
                                                                          Psalm 89:12

See link to the news: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/3124919.stm 
                                                               





                       

One moment in Time

Whitney Houston's song 'One Moment in Time' sets my imagination alight. How I love to hear her powerful voice singing that song, so meaningful and inspirational. The song came so aptly on the radio as I was thinking of my father, who left us so suddenly on that fateful day of 27 July, 34 years today. 

If God could give me one moment in time in my life, what would I choose to do in that moment of time? I have the answer on hand without a second thought. Yes, I would tell God I would like to spend that time with my father. 

I have always felt sad that I had not spent enough time with my father. The link with him had only been letters between us during the years I was away studying abroad. On my return, I was caught up in my career and bringing up a family in a different country from where he lived. Yes, we take things for granted, thinking that we have time, and we tend to put off doing things until "later"; and before I knew it, he was gone. Many, like me do not know how to treasure what we have, until we have lost them. By then, it is too late. So it is with my father. There are so many things I want to tell him, so many experiences I want to share with him, but never made the time to do that when he was alive. Yes, in that one moment in time, this is how I would like to spend the time with my father:

First, I would give him a long, big hug and tell him how much I loved him, and would always love him. I would then tell him how grateful I am for his love and his vision to send me to school at a time when girls' education were of secondary importance and for that, he has helped shaped the career I had and the life I enjoy now. I would tell him that I am happy with James, and that our children, both married, are independent in their own lives and careers. Of course I would bring him to see my mother, now old but healthy and I will reassure him that she is well loved and well taken care of. 

I would take him to see all my brothers and sisters-in-law and tell him that they have not only succeeded, but have diversified and expanded the furniture and hardware businesses he left for them. I would gather all his 23 grandchildren and 8 great-grandchildren together to meet him so he knows that the family lineage carries on. This reunion calls for a big feast, a family celebration. I will prepare all his favorite dishes, one of which will be bak-kut-teh with the choicest meat, followed by the best Tieguanyin Chinese tea that he loves!

He would be happy to know that his youngest daughter and son, who were only in their teens when he passed on, are now successful business entrepreneurs. I would also take him to see my sister in Australia, and we will travel to London to see her children. I'm sure he would be surprised how the world has changed with the digital age and how small it has become, that family members or friends can be separated by vast oceans and seas and yet be connected so easily by a tablet!     

Last but not least, I would take him to China to see the remarkable changes in his homeland - the vibrant economy, the ever-changing skyline of the big cities, and yes, the amount of food there, so much that the Chinese people need not starve again! He would be thankful I'm sure, safe with the knowledge that all his brothers' children and grandchildren will have equal opportunities in life.  

But why do we have to wait until it is too late? Why not now? We only have the present moment to show our love and concern for the people who mean a lot to us, our spouse, our children, our parents, family and close friends. Yes, today and everyday, tell them that you love them; take your spouse out for a romantic meal even when there is no occasion to celebrate, just time together. Bond with your children, spend time with them, share family meals together, joke and laugh with them, talk and discuss the day's events with them. Hug them whenever, wherever you can, even when they have grown up. Visit your parents and reminisce the good old days with them. Catch up with friends over meals or drinks. Share company information and plans with colleagues so that you succeed as a team in the corporate world. On top of that, be grateful always and show compassion to the people who are less fortunate than you. 

You may not realize it now, but when the person is gone, the times that you have spent together will become your most treasured memories. You would have no regrets by then. You have given your best. 

As Whitney Houston sang:       "Each day I live,
                                              I want to be
                                              The day to give
                                              The best of me.
                                              Give me one moment in time, 
                                              when I'm more than I thought I could be
                                              when all my dreams are a heartbeat away
                                              and the answers are all up to me
                                              Give me one moment in time...
                                              

Now what would you do if you were given one moment in time...when you can turn back the clock...what would your wish be?                                             

                             

1914 - 27 July 1979

                              
                                In loving memory of my father, Yong Peck Lan
    
        

The little warrior from Mongolia

Nomuun was six months old when her parents, Huska and Dudaana noticed that something was not quite right with her. She could not sit unsupported or crawl like her cousin of the same age. They also noticed that half her forehead and face was cold and sweaty while the other half was warm! Apart from that, Nomuun is a beautiful, adorable, cheerful girl with a ready smile for everyone.

The doctors in Mongolia could not explain her symptoms and condition, so they advised the parents to bring her to Beijing for further assessment. The 3 months spent in Beijing going from one hospital to another, did not come up with any positive diagnosis, due in part to communication barrier and because of her young age, the doctors down-played it to developmental problems from lack of vitamins!

Back in Mongolia, they religiously followed the doctors' advice of giving her massages and the multi- vitamins prescribed. An observant therapist noticed that Nomuun would cry with pain each time she was placed lying on her stomach, so a spine and chest x-ray were done to exclude bone tuberculosis. It was only an MRI that finally gave a clearer picture to the problem. A big tumor was found on her chest area, which appeared to wrap round her spinal cord! Her doctor immediately advised treatment overseas, and Beijing was out of the question. 

Nomuun at 11 months old

That was in October 2007, when I first met Nomuun and her parents. They had brought her to Bangkok to seek treatment in the hospital where I was working. By then, Nomuun was 10 months old.  After a thorough examination, the Pediatric  Neurologist diagnosed that Nomuun had Nueroblastoma, a form of cancer which had developed in the nerve tissue of her chest and pressing on her spinal cord which explained her paralysis from waist down! 

Shocked and confused, Huska and Dudaana braced themselves for long term treatment of their baby and the uncertain prognosis. There were so many things to consider: their jobs back home in Ulaanbator, their six-year old elder daughter's care and schooling there, their finances, the cost of the medical treatment, their temporary abode in Bangkok etc...etc...

But far from being overwhelmed by the enormity of the problem, they took one step at a time and decided to go along with the treatment plan that the team of Specialists looking after Nomuun had lined up for her. The tumor had to be removed; but because of its massive size, the doctors decided to go the conservative way - that chemotherapy should be the first line of treatment to try and shrink it to a size where it is operable and without too much risk to her small body.  

Nomuun in her early days of treatment

Nomuun went through a total of 17 cycles of chemotherapy over a period of 15 months. Her hair did not have time to grow before another course of the toxic drugs made her bald again! It was heart breaking to hear her cries each time a nurse had to prick her hand with a needle to either draw blood for investigations or to set up an intravenous drip for the chemotherapy treatment. But no sooner had the needle been drawn and the pain gone, and with comforting words to console her, Nomuun would be smiling again, forgiving the nurse, her eyes and cheeks still wet with tears! 

Early days of physiotherapy

Yes, through it all, Nomuun went through her infirmity like a little warrior. We learnt a lot from her those days, that despite the pain, the nausea, the vomiting, the loss of appetite, there is always a new day to look forward to, with sunshine, family and friends to share laughter with; that rainbows will show its beauty even after a thunderstorm! She became the love of all the nurses who looked after her, including her doctors, the cleaning ladies and the pantry maids who brought food in each day. She captivated everyone with her smiles, her charm, her incomprehensible gurgling Mongolian words that she learned from her mother. There were good times too when the nurses celebrated her first birthday in December 2007 (and subsequently her 2nd birthday as well the following year). It was such a joy for us to see Nomuun happy, delighting in the fun and laughter with the people who cared for her and who also brought lots of presents and cakes for the occasion. 

In February 2009 the tumor was deemed small enough to attempt surgery. A team of doctors, including a Pediatric Cardio-Thoracic Surgeon and a Pediatric Neurosurgeon took 5 hours in the operating theater to try and remove as much of the cancer tissue as they could from the chest area and from the spinal cord. Nomuun spent 7 days in the Intensive Care Unit and a further 10 days in the ward recuperating from this major surgery. The true test of her warrior qualities was how she went through her post-operative care. She was unfazed by the numerous tubes in and around her, cooperating with the nurses who were looking after her and quietly bearing the pain as long as her mother was there reassuring her that she would be well. 

Nomuun with a full head of hair in 2010

Nomuun will be 7 years old this December. She is a bright, energetic girl, loves to sing and is now attending pre-school classes twice a week, while the remaining days are spent in intensive physiotherapy, yoga and swimming lessons to strengthen her legs. She can stand with support, and walks with the help of a walker or when she supports herself walking along a wall. The Therapist is confident that if Nomuun can improve her hip and knee muscles, she will be able to walk with an elbow crutch, and hopefully, to progress to a walking stick for support. 

In pre- school class

The future looks promising for Nomuun. As for Huska and Dudaana, we can only imagine the pain and anguish they went through as young parents; the sacrifices they made and the tears they shed having to see their precious baby go through such grueling treatment. Hope sustained them, but it was their perseverance, the great love for their child, faith in the doctors, and support of family and friends that helped them through their 3 years ordeal in Bangkok. 

For me, I count myself very fortunate to have met this family. They have taught me so much, that in the face of adversity we should never give up, instead we should take each day as it comes with faith and hope, and patience too; that tough times never last; and to look for the silver lining even when the clouds are dark. Somehow the Divine will know to send 'angels' our way to help us lessen our burdens, as was evident in Nomuun's case. A concert was held in Ulaanbator, organised by friends to raise funds for her medical treatment and many well-known singers and artistes willingly came forward to participate when they learned of her plight. 

In the course of their stay in Bangkok with me, I have become 'family' to them since it was not easy for their extended families in Mongolia to take time off from their commitments to be with them. I became Nomuun's "emee", the Mongolian term for "grandmother"! Yes, I have gained a grand-daughter, and a little warrior at that! 

Nomuun on a wheelchair presented to her by Joni and Friends Foundation in Chiangmai 

                                       

                                 
                                  We acquire the strength we have overcome.                                                                            
                                                             -Ralph Emerson-

                                               

Bruno and Charlie

                               

The sweet-natured Charlie

This is Charlie, a poodle-mix and he belongs to Jon and Kylee who rescued him when he was two years old. Charlie is a product of the puppy mill. I cannot imagine the sufferings he went through before his rescue by a team of dog-lovers called  Hope Dog Rescue. For over a year, Charlie could not be sold. He was kept in a pet shop but each time someone came in to buy a puppy, he was side-tracked, perhaps because there were other puppies 'cuter' than him. As he grew, his cage where he was kept could hardly contain him. He had to lie bent on his two front legs in the cramped cage, which explains the rough callouses we now see on the elbows of his front legs. As a male dog, he had no space to  naturally lift up his leg to urinate, so he has to bend down to urinate. 

By the time he was adopted by Jon and Kylee, he was a frightened, nervous dog, frightened of strangers, of noises, of any movement made around him. He would stay under the dining table, his place of refuge and needs constant coaxing to come out, to be touched, to be caressed and for us to win his trust. It took him almost a year to gain his confidence, and to know that this is now his home and that he is well-loved.

The adorable Bruno

Incidentally, it was Bruno who actually saved Charlie. Bruno is a Schnauzer, Jon and Kylee's first pet dog, given to them by a friend when he was a puppy. When he was a year old, Bruno did not like to be left alone too long in the house, when Jon and Kylee go to work. He would tear the newspapers to pieces, nibble at the TV remote control, just to show them that he was lonely.That prompted Kylee to search the internet to adopt a companion for Bruno. When Charlie came in, the two dogs were an instant hit. They get along well, both are of the same size and weight. The Vet gave him a clean bill of health, except for his persistent allergy problem, which when it gets bad, needs to be treated with antibiotics and short term steroids. Fortunately  this does not occur often since he is on a special diet. Charlie is quite happy to allow Bruno to be the 'leader-of-the-pack' and the two loves to 'spar' with one another, with each learning new techniques from the other. The only sad thing I noticed is that Charlie does not know how to 'play' with us - whether it is chasing after a ball, or a friendly tug-of-war with a rope. He was never engaged in play when he was a puppy. Poor Charlie! He has lost his puppy-hood being locked up in a cage, abused, ignored and unloved.

I sometimes wonder what would have happened to Charlie if he had not been rescued? I was told that in the puppy mill business, when the puppies are not sold, and as they grow bigger and need more food for sustenance, they become a liability. So to minimize costs, many of them are 'put away' and the easiest, cheapest way is to drown them! Do you condone such cruel, inhuman act? Would you support the puppy mill business if you know the misery, the torment, the pain and agony those "cute" dogs and their mummies go through?  Very often they are taken away from their mothers before they are weaned, hence they lack the immune support system, so vital to keep them alive and healthy. Many suffer abuse, malnutrition, and are psychologically scarred by the time someone buys them. They are sad to say, prisoners of man's greed. We should never support such commercial activities. There are many abandoned dogs in Dog Shelters in your home- town that need a home and someone to love them; they are just waiting for that kind "mummy" or "daddy" to come along and adopt them.   

Somehow rescued dogs know instinctively that they have been given a second chance to live, as in Charlie's case. He is quiet, has a mild temperament and easy to handle on his daily walks. I like that tender look in his eyes when he lifts up his head to look at us - it is as though he is telling us that he is grateful and that he loves us.  

Bruno and Charlie - now the best of friends

                               
                 
                 Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance  
                 and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. He 
                 taught me to appreciate the simple things - a walk in the woods,
                 a fresh snowfall, a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight. And as he grew 
                 old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity.
                 Mostly he taught me about friendship and selflessness and 
                 above all else, unwavering loyalty.

                                                      John Grogan, Marley and me.  


  

A sad story from Bangladesh

Kabir Hossain was still teary eyed when he related his story to me one day in Dhaka when we were caught in a massive traffic jam. I had just arrived from Bangkok and he was the driver of the limousine from the Sheraton Hotel who was sent to meet me at the airport.

"To think that just two years ago, I thought I was the happiest man in Bangladesh!" he started his story with a sad voice.  "I have a job I enjoy, as a driver of Sheraton Hotel in this capital city of Dhaka. I feel proud in my starched brown uniform, and my job is to meet hotel guests, mostly business people at the airport and ferry them to the hotel and vice-versa when they are ready to catch their flights home. I meet many nice people and I learn a lot from them", he continued.  

He wished the public transport in Bangladesh could be better. He has to commute daily to work, a tedious 20 km journey in one of those dirty and stuffy old buses, which is often late and always over-crowded! There were days when he had to stand all the way, squeezed between passengers. That is why he made it a point to wake up an hour earlier so that he is never late for his morning shift and still have time to polish the hotel limousine before he starts his routine. 

The other reason why Kabir was so happy was because his much-loved 20-year old daughter, Alisha had just got married. It was a love relationship, rare in Bangladesh where traditionally, marriages are arranged by parents, but Kabir is different. He is a Christian and the man Alisha had fallen in love with, was also a Christian; so no dowry was discussed by both families, just the conventional presents and a dinner attended by family members and friends. Alisha looked the radiant young bride, happy and excited to start a new life with her husband.

After the wedding, as tradition goes, Alisha went to stay with her husband and his family in Chittagong, a port city south-east of Dhaka, an 8-hour journey by bus from the capital. To Kabir, Alisha seemed happy in the fist year of her marriage. She blended in well with her in-laws and would phone Kabir every week telling him how she had learned new recipes to cook for the family.

Then the phone-calls became less frequent and eventually stopped. Kabir wondered what had happened until a frantic, desperate call came in one afternoon from Alisha. "Papa, they beat me and have locked me in a small room and do not allow me to go out!"  "Why?" Kabir asked, shocked.  "Why did they do this to you? Where is your husband?" he asked.  "He is also with them now", Alisha replied choking and crying. Kabir knew at once that the in-laws, together with Alisha's husband had turned against her. They were now demanding a large sum of money as dowry! Kabir tried to reason with them, explaining his financial situation; that as a driver, he did not have the money they demanded. He pleaded with them to allow the young couple to live their lives since they were so happy together. The other party refused to budge.

Kabir did not know what to do. He tried to borrow money from his relatives and friends...but time was not on his side. A week later, news came from Chittagong that his Alisha; his gentle, kind-hearted, cheerful young daughter had hung herself in her room!

What followed in the ensuing months were hazy; the autopsy, the funeral, his wife collapsing in grief, his son became quiet and refused to talk to anyone. Deep inside him, Kabir knew his daughter did not take her own life. He suspected foul play and lodged a complaint to the police in Chittagong. When the police report came back in piece-meal form and eventually confirming that it was suicide, Kabir knew that his in-laws had bought over the police. He did not have the financial muscle to fight them. Still angry and hurt, Kabir engaged a lawyer to bring his in-laws to court; but for a year, his case was still pending a trial.  Every month he had to take the 8-hour long journey to Chittagong, only to be told each time that his case had to be postponed as there were too many other cases for the Court to deal with. At the same time, his lawyer was demanding payment for consultation and each visit to the court.  

"It's all about corruption in this country", Kabir said bitterly, as our car made a turn towards the Sheraton Hotel. "You can even buy justice if you have the money"! In the end Kabir gave up pursuing the case as it was a drain on his emotions, his family and his finances. "I just have to live with it", he ended his story sadly, with tears in his eyes. We had been in the traffic jam for three hours, and if anything, I had hoped that by lending a listening ear to his grief and regrets, he would feel better.

Poor Kabir. He still works for Sheraton Hotel, but his life has changed forever. His wife suffers from depression and needs daily medication which put a strain on his monthly income. His teenage son, once active and playful had become withdrawn, closing  himself away from family and friends. His studies had suffered and Kabir is worried for his future. 

I do not have to explain the dowry system here; but I hope that more stringent and unsparing laws can be enacted to punish those who are found guilty of causing the deaths of young brides, many of whom suffered horrific ill-treatment before their deaths. The perpetrators of these heinous crimes are  senseless people, full of greed, with hatred in their hearts. They forget that they too have mothers, sisters and daughters and if they can do such evil acts, they are as good as savage beasts; ignorant that what they did will cause endless pain and sufferings to the families concerned, just like in Kabir Hossain's case. 

How can anyone ever live with that?  

                       
                    Man has reason, discrimination and free will.
                    The brute has no such thing, and knows no distinction
                    between virtue and vice, good and evil.
                    Man when he follows his baser nature, 
                    can show himself lower than the brute.   

                                                     -Mahatma Gandhi-

       

           





     

Pity the strays, Malaysia

I first encountered Bravia, a stray kitten when I visited my mother in Kota Bharu in Malaysia in October 2012. She had fallen into a deep drain and was trying to clamber out, so I picked her up, and tried to wash her. Oh, she was feisty! stretching out her legs and using her claws to hold on to the metal gate nearby. I was immediately captivated not only by her beauty, but by her gutsiness and braveness. That was why I gave her the name of Bravia. She was always there at the back of the house with another Siamese cat with blue eyes, which I named Kao ( a Thai name, meaning white, because of his white fur). During my week's stay there each time, they would enjoy feasts of cooked fish, deboned, as I was so afraid they would choke on the bones (my own fears translated on to them!). 

This trip home in June to see my mother, Bravia was still there at the back of the house, together with Kao. I was worried as she was getting bigger and may soon reach sexual maturity. From what I have learned from many cat lovers, the compassionate way is to spay them, so that the population of stray cats will not increase. I cannot imagine Bravia having litters in a harsh environment, with no home and no guarantee of food. Their chances of survival would be very slim. Why let them suffer? 

It was then that I took the decision to have her spayed. I contacted a local Vet and made an appointment. Naive as I was, I took Bravia and put her in an open basket. She allowed me to pick her up ( I'm sure her she recognized me as her food provider!). She was calm when I carried the basket up, but when my brother slide open the house gate, the screeching noise frightened her and she jumped up to escape. What followed was chaos and confusion as Bravia ran out of the house; my brother trying to catch her back; and my mother's care- giver, Etti screaming "so much blood!". In her natural instinct to escape, Bravia had scratched my chin and neck and blood was streaking down my blouse. I had to go and see a local GP who cleaned up the wound and gave me an anti-Tetanus injection. Thank goodness there was no need for any stitches!

Unperturbed, I went to the Vet, borrowed a proper pet basket and eventually got Bravia safely to the clinic. To think that when I opened the back door to get her again, she was there meowing, as though nothing had happened! 

Little Bravia after her surgery

After the surgery, the Vet lent us a good size cage to contain Bravia for a few days for us to nurse her and ensure that her wound would heal well. I had to return to Singapore by then; and enlisted my brothers and Etti's help. You can imagine the number of phone calls I made to my family to follow-up on Bravia's recovery! By the fifth day, with her wound healed and her feistiness returned, my brother released her, and Kao was there waiting for her. He had missed her and had refused to eat in the few days that Bravia was in our care! 

I wish Bravia and Kao well. It's so sad to see stray cats and dogs without love, care and a home. The least we can do is to respect them and their space. I have read in the papers of cases where people abuse, hurt and even kill these vulnerable, homeless animals. These are selfish people who lack compassion, and are perhaps loveless themselves. They fail to learn that all beings are the creation of God, for a reason. For those who have, and care for pets like dogs and cats, the lessons they learn of love, sacrifice, responsibility and patience are invaluable. 


                            Life is as dear to a mute creature as it is to man.
                            Just as one wants happiness and fears pain, 
                            Just as one wants to live and not to die,
                             So do other creatures.

-Dalai Lama-

                                                
                                                                                                    

 The gentle and beautiful Kao

A short story from Kenya, Africa

Nugumbu woke up with a yawn, he was still sleepy, the commotion last night in the nursery had broken his beauty sleep. It was already 11 am, time to go out to the playground to feed and to frolic in the small pool of mud water with his new found family. This daily parade to the playground is mainly to meet the many visitors who have come to the David Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage to see the baby elephants and to learn of their plight. Hopefully, some kind souls would adopt some of them in the form of a small donation.

The commotion it turned out was a new baby elephant that was brought in from the Tsavo region. Nugumbu learned from his family that it was a female elephant, barely a year old, rescued by the rangers from a watering hole. She had accidentally fallen in, while running frantically with her mother and herd when they heard gun shots in the night; and she had hurt herself badly trying to scramble out.  "Poor child, she lost her mother just like me - to the cruel and brutal act of poachers", Nugumbu thought to himself as he looked around him. He has made many friends here, now they are his only family; most of them older than him, but all are orphans, with tragic stories of their own and how they were rescued and brought into this shelter. It will be  their temporary home until they are old enough to be released back into the wild, where they belong.  

Nugumbu remembered very vividly and with sadness how he lost his mother. He was only a year old when some men came in the middle of the night and shot his mother several times with those long ugly rifles. As his mother fell to her side, she whispered in her dying breath to Nugumbu to run as fast as he could to the bush to hide. He was trembling all night in the dark, behind that tall bush, wondering what was happening; and murmuring to himself several times, "mama, you must live, I need you!". Soon fatigue took over and he fell asleep. 

The sun was blazing its hot rays across the Masai Mara when he woke up wondering why he was alone. Then he remembered the terrible happening the night before, and he rushed out of the bush towards his mother, crying out, "mama! mama!". To his horror, he saw his mother lying in a pool of blood, her body limp and her two beautiful ivory tusks were gone, leaving two gashing holes on her mouth and defacing her! "Mama, mama", he cried, "what have they done to you? Wake up, mama!" he willed her to answer him. He used his little trunk to touch her head and body to try to stir her to life. Tears kept pouring out from his eyes as he saw his mother not responding. He went to her nipples to suckle, there was still some milk trickling down. He stayed beside his mother all day and all night, crying and calling out to her, "mama, mama, I need you!". 

That was how Nugumbu lost his mother - to the "poachers", he soon learned from his new family of brothers and sisters in the shelter;  and that was how he was rescued. Rangers found him, semi-conscious, dehydrated and emaciated, still standing beside the rotting flesh of his mother, now infested with flies and maggots. He remembered vaguely being hoisted into a truck, which took him to an airfield where he was flown to the Sheldrick Wildlife Trust in Nairobi. 

For two weeks, he was delirious, hovering between life and death, with images of his mother flashing through his mind and his lips, murmuring, "mama, mama, I need you!" as the Vet and helpers tried their best to nurse him to life. That was 5 months ago, but Nugumbu never stopped yearning for his mother in his heart.

As the weeks passed, Nugumbu learned that the new comer, the female baby elephant had survived. She had fought hard for her life in the clinic, and to the surprise of her Vet and helpers, she had come out strong and healthy, and was given the name Cassia. Today, Nugumbu learned that she will be joining them in meeting the visitors. As she was being bottle-fed by her helper; Nugumbu walked shyly to her side and touched her softly with his trunk. She turned and looked at him and saw his tender eyes and felt his comforting touch, as he whispered softly into her ears, "Don't worry. I am Nugumbu, and I will look after you from now on and I will make sure no harm comes to you." Cassia smiled, and to reaffirm her friendship, she returned his touch by tenderly caressing his face with her trunk.

From that day on, Nugumbu and Cassia are inseparable...   

                      

                    
            
                                   From beasts we scorn as soulless 
                                   In forest, field and den
                                   The cry goes up to witness
                                   The soullessness of men.

                                              - M. Frida Hartley -