Getting Sick Away from Home

I think many people understate the phrase 'Thank God It's Friday'. Yeah, Fridays are good. They signal the end of a week, the advent of a long sleep-in, the beginning of the proverbial 'night to remember'. But for me particularly, this particular Friday has to be the most relieving TGIF I've ever had the fortune to say out loud.

Now when I began writing this blog, I intended to provide future students who were going abroad (specifically to Indonesia) information which will keep them alive and sane. A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy of sorts. So after I recount this very horrifying experience, I shall attempt to provide as much advice as possible so that YOU, YES YOU, travellers and students alike will keep an alert eye out to prevent such events from ever happening to you. These things happen to everybody, so you must always, ALWAYS be prepared for the unexpected.

Firstly, I must say that I'm not particularly an unhealthy person. I'm a little on the skinny side, and my immune system isn't exactly Fort Knox impenetrable - but I usually have quick recoveries from viruses and bacteria and what have you. The only weakness I have is a long-running gastrointestinal one. This is a highly uncomfortable subject which I rather not broach. But really, tummy problems are mostly easily treated with a tiny tablet called Lomotil. Therefore I allowed myself to become overcomplacent with regards to my health, resulting in a series of unfortunate events this week. Actually when I think back, I didn't actually consume anything out of the ordinary or do anything odd, and it's a mystery as to what could have caused these events, but cause doesn't matter when the effect is the one crying out (successfully) for attention.

It was Monday around 11.30 pm when everything from my tummy upwards began doing a tap dance. Among all ailments I have a particular hate for nausea. Who doesn't? It's kind of like an itch you can't scratch, it doesn't do anything other than sit there and annoy. I tried to rid myself of it. Nothing doing. I lied down and tried to get some rest but nooo, it just wouldn't stop. And then it finally happened. I threw up everything and started having diarrhea around midnight. Like I have mentioned before, GI weaknesses are common fare for me, so I reached into my bag of tricks and pulled out a Lomotil. Diarrhea gone. However I continued to puke up fluid every hour till 8am the next morning. I couldn't eat a single thing as it would make a reappearance about 30 minutes later.

It was probably one of the most horrible nights of my life. I have to say though, no matter whether you're a devout person or a hardcore atheist, all your beliefs are flushed out the window when you're sprawled on a bathroom floor worshiping the porcelain throne at 1am. Oh yes, vomiting really feels like it requires divine intervention, doesn't it? I opine that people tend to invoke the name of Allah, Buddha, Jesus and the Devil himself when there's a serious case of diarrhea or vomiting. Pretty much anyone who's free. Hah tell me I'm wrong. Whatever it is I emerged from my battle all sweaty and burning of fever the next day. And when I decided that I needed medical help (or at this point, euthanasia), turns out another one of my friends had been suffering from the same thing just after me (we live in different rooms in our hostel and I was dead to the world, so don't judge me for not knowing) and she followed me to the hospital.

A trip to the doctor revealed that we both had low blood pressures and high fevers. Actually that's all I heard from the doc, fever really gets you tripping balls and I was pretty dehydrated. All I cared about was collecting my meds and emergency medical leave letter. The cab ride to the hospital and back took a lot out of me and well. I didn't make it back to my room without my stomach contents making a reappearance (surprise!). So in a nutshell, I spent about 4 days with nausea, recurring headaches and a general shitty feeling. I've been trying to find out what's wrong with me but after Google diagnosed me with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma (seriously?) I decided that I rather just wait for the bad luck to run its course. My friend (who generally has a weaker constitution than I do) recovered, but I'm still sitting here, feeling awful and saying with all the relief I can muster ; THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY.

So. I know at this point you must be cussing me out for being disgustingly graphic. Truth is, I was not graphic enough. You must understand that getting sick in a foreign country with nobody to help  you, especially if you're not fluent in the language and unfamiliar with your surroundings, can turn sour very fast. I'm going to do you a favour and give you some advice. Ignore it at your peril. LITERALLY. 

• DO get yourself vaccinated. Please do. If you're not sure what vaccine to take, Google it. 
• ALWAYS drink clean bottled water. All sorts of pathogenic bacteria and viruses could be lurking in tap water.
• Here's a tip that I take very seriously ; always stock up on Lomotil or Imodium. Turbo diarrhea may sound funny when you're recounting it to family and friends, but it is absolutely no laughing matter when you're stuck on the toilet wishing there was a seatbelt to save you from being propelled to Mars.
• If the country you're headed to does not speak your native language, at least know what simple symptoms such as cough and headache are called in that particular country. Trust me it wasn't fun trying to explain things to a doctor who looked at me like I was speaking Swahili.
• Maybe you might wanna indulge in medical insurance? Just sayin'.
• And it wouldn't be such a bad idea to leave the house with a mini medical kit. Just a few paracetamol, oral rehydration salts, Benadryl. Better safe than sorry.
• If you can't handle it, don't try street food. I swear I've seen mutant rats the size of full grown cats freaking GALLOPING around food stalls and people behave like these are cute little pets. Disgusting vermin.

I'm sure there are many other precautions, but these are my personal top few. Being sick is the worst, and if there's nobody around, it could very well turn into a nightmare.

Oh yeah, a special shout-out to my Irish readers! I just found out that I have quite a number of you guys, and I really love Ireland, especially the awesome accent. I hear that we Indians are quite exotic over there. I would love to visit sometime :)

A Eulogy

I hate goodbyes. And I'm not good at them. When my beloved grandmother passed away a year ago not only did I feel slapped in the face, but I experienced a weird emotional roller-coaster with many hormonal ups and downs which involved a few embarrassing public tearful episodes and several dazed moments when I would stare blankly into space with pretty much nothing on my mind. So when my very best friend passed on a few days ago, I resolved not to behave the same way. Therefore I'm hoping that this eulogy will allow me to come to terms with her death.

I met Hemala close to 11 years ago. I was 9, and had just moved to Peninsular Malaysia from East Malaysia. Not only was I a great source of gossip (being from another part of the country), but I was quite a runt with a very close resemblance to a stick insect, and buck teeth. Yeah that was me back then. On my first day of school I behaved like a scared puppy, sitting alone at the back of the class wide-eyed and afraid of everyone. And nobody dared to approach me, they just stared at the 'new' girl. The new girl was creepy, and evil little girls have no sympathy for new girls.

However one person wasn't afraid of me. Hemala was the first to approach me, and she took me around the school on my first day and gave me a tour as well as introduced me to the other girls ( I was in a convent school). I distinctly remember her telling me to go to her if I had any problems and she was kind enough to tell the other girls to talk to me and make friends. Having nobody else and being naturally antisocial, I stuck to her hard like a leech, and in no time we were best friends. That very weekend I met another girl in church who happened to be from my class at school. We too struck up a friendship and before long, Hemala, Amelia and I developed a close bond. Honest to God I cannot remember how it happened. We were as different as chalk and cheese, but we became the unlikeliest of friends despite having next to nothing in common.

Hemala was one of the most hardworking people that I have ever met. She'd stress herself out over the littlest things. We had such a hard time coaxing her to relax and be a little more laid back. She was also incredibly innocent and hence often unwittingly hilarious. We had a lot of laughs at her expense as she was often confused with pretty much everything we said and it took a long time to explain things to her. She relished our friendship, constantly begging for sleepovers. Forming groups in school for assignments were a no-brainer as we had an unspoken agreement to do almost everything together. I still recall one night where we stayed over at Amelia's place for a discussion on a school project, pigging out on pizza and talking the night away. We had so much fun chit chatting and basically girls' night was a huge success.  She was extremely responsible and took everything seriously. For that reason she was very dependable and nobody could deny her diligence in performing duties.That never got in the way of our friendship despite the fact I was on the other end of the hardworking scale while Amelia was more moderate. Our differences complemented each other instead of tearing us apart.

Her father took care of her like gold, and I personally envied her family relationship. She was always a devoted child and she had an amazingly close relationship with her elder brother. The three of us were hard and fast, and we never hid anything from each other ( though Amelia and I did debate hiding certain things from her on account of how naive she was, we ended up telling her everything anyway ). We had group studies where we would gather under the pretext of studying but end up gossiping. We even had surprise birthday parties, persuading our parents to drive us over to each others' houses at night with a birthday cake. We could sit for hours and talk about a gazillion things and yet still have not enough time to cover everything. Our friendship stood the test of time, and we were close right til our school days ended. We grew up, and our circle of friends grew larger, yet we put time aside for us three musketeers as that was one ring that was never breached by anyone or anything. Even the biggest fights never lasted more than a couple of days. Many things changed, but somehow we never grew apart.

I have a zillion memories with her that make me smile when I think about it. I remember once when we were in school, I was sitting in between Hemala and Amelia in the laboratory when a bird flew over and pooped on Hemala's skirt. Unfortunately enough Amelia and I happened to be kicking each other throughout the class and there was a huge uproar as I attempted to run away from Hemala while my feet were still tangled with Amelia's. I'll never forget the yelling I got from Hemala for being an idiot. There was also the time when one of us swore during an intense game of UNO and she scolded us for using 'wild' words ( she meant 'vulgar' but got confused with the UNO wild card ). And the time we ran out to the long jump pitch on the other end of the school field to collect sand to dump over a bottle of kerosene someone had spilled beside a barbecue pit during a Girl Guides camp. There are so many happy, sad and hilarious moments that we spent together and I couldn't possible document them all, but the whole point is we had an actual female friendship which didn't involve the drama and the catfights expected. We were nothing less than sisters.

As we got older and left school it became increasingly difficult for us to maintain our friendship. We met other people and made new friends. No, our bond didn't lessen despite not being able to communicate as we used to for hours. The fact that we were in our respective colleges made it difficult to meet up and catch up with each other. The last time we met was perhaps a year ago when we had dinner in Pizza Hut and like always, talked for hours. Hemala never once forgot to whatsapp me and she constantly asked me when we were going to meet, but I was always too busy or away. I promised her that I would meet her during my term holidays this June, and I genuinely missed her and looked forward to it. As fate would have it, it was not to be.We used to joke about how we would tell each others' future husbands what a huge mistake they were making. We used to joke about how we would become godparents for each others' kids. We even joked about one day living in the same apartment when we were all grown up because who needed men anyway when you had the best of friends?

Imagine my horror when Amelia called me and hysterically told me that Hemala had died in a car crash. I was speechless. How was that even possible? Young, naive and obedient to her parents and an amazing sister to her elder brother. It seemed like a cruel joke. Surely God had made a mistake? Surely this was all a horrible prank? I hung up and broke down in tears. I called my mom telling her the news because I didn't know who else to call or what else to do. I did not know whether to cry or be in a daze. I did both. I wanted so badly to come home and see the girl I considered to be my sister for the last time, but I knew it wouldn't change anything. And it would have broken my heart to see the sorrow of her family. I couldn't believe that we would never meet again, and I would never get to tell her all about my new life in university, and listen to her voice again. I am embarrassed to admit that I even sent her whatsapp messages, hoping that I was just dreaming and she would reply me cheerfully the way she always did. I could not sleep and I was in a dazed state, hoping for an end to the nightmare. To tell you the truth I once again had the occasional bout of crying, but most of all I was in a constant state of confusion.

Hemala this is for you. I'm sorry for all that I have done. I'm sorry for not being able to see you. How was I to know you would leave us so soon? There was so much left for you in this life. We won't see your future husband to tell him what a mistake he was making. We will never see your kids. We will never live in that apartment we talked about. I'm sorry for all the times I neglected you, for all the times I was impatient with you. I wish so much that I could have seen you before you left, but like always, the circumstances forbade it. I want more than ever for you to come back. If I had the power to turn back time I would change what cannot be undone. Who else is left to make stupid comments that are both annoying and hilarious? Who will now fill the permanent hole in our hearts? Who will complete our little circle? Where will Amelia and I look for you now when we have something new to talk about, when we have new events in our lives? We miss you very much, and we love you, and though you are away, our friendship is still here. I will see you again someday, and be prepared because I'm gonna be so mad at you. We will forever treasure the memories we have created. One day, we will accept that you are gone. Til then, we will grieve our loss. Someday we'll come to terms with the fact that you have left. Til then, we know you're watching us from up above. We promise to be good. We promise not to argue. We promise never to grow part. Most importantly, we promise to keep our friendship alive. We pray for you. Rest in peace, old friend. And may you watch over us and realise that you mean so much to us. Til we meet again. Farewell. 

P/S :- To all those reading out there, please drive safely. Don't put your loved ones through the misery of writing your eulogy.

A Malaysian Indian in Indonesia

This particular post has been in the works for a long time, but I was a little worried about posting it as it talks about a certain issue that involves RACE. However after much deliberation I have decided that I have to rant or this will be in my system and I will combust if I don't get it out. 

Let's see. Fact : I am an Indian. Yes I am. That's where it ends. I was born in Malaysia, as were my parents. Somewhere a few generations ago the British decided that my ancestors needed a change in scenery and they were brought to Malaysia. I am a MALAYSIAN citizen. Not an Indian national. I have never been to India. In fact if I were sent there the Indians would probably consider me an alien due to how NOT Indian I am.

You see, I am what I call a 'physical Indian'. I have the features, the dusky skin (chocolate brown if you will), the big eyes, dark brown hair. But that's all. I'm not proud to admit that I can't speak any Indian language fluently (P/S: There's no such language as Indian. Get your facts right) I can understand basic Tamil but that's all. I cannot tolerate spicy food. At all. And I do not own Indian traditional clothing. I have never worn a saree in my life. I'm Catholic (an Indian Catholic? How fascinating!) Bottom line I am not particularly cultural and have to dig a little deeper than most for my Indian roots.

I'm trying hard not to be sarcastic, but I reached the limit of tolerance when I first came to Indonesia. I should have known when right from the first day a clerk in the university did a million rude gestures (palms raised together, head bobbing from left to right, holding and circling an imaginary tray) to explain to me there were barely any Hindu temples in the city for me to pray. I was already burning when I explained that I was a Catholic with gritted teeth, and I was even more pissed when he looked at me like I'd just dropped from Mars.

As time passed I started to think I was a zoo escapee when even a regular trip to the mall resulted in feeling like I was standing in a stadium with spectators staring and whispering and giggling at me. It was a real smack to my self-esteem and I have given people the stink-eye on too many occasions until the resting bitchface seems to be permanently stuck on me. People have asked if I was from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Timor Leste, Papua New Guinea (like what the frak??) and a zillion other countries except my home country. Have the people of this country never seen Indians?

To answer the question, yes they have. I was utterly horrified to learn that Indonesians were a huge fan of a show called Mahabharata (a story about Indian legends or something) and they were obsessed over Hindi movies. As a result, we faced many rude uneducated people yelling 'Mahabharata' at us in public and singing Hindi songs as if Shah Rukh Khan was my neighbour or something. For someone like me who barely watches Hindi movies I felt utterly insulted. Being publicly mocked became a real challenge that tested the limits of my patience greatly. And to add insult to injury, not only were they more well-versed in Indian culture than I was, they even possessed names that were way more Indian than ours were. (in fact I am mystified to this day)

Here's a few examples of stupid questions I have encountered :

a) Why are you all black?

b) Why is (Ying who is Chinese) white?

c) If your parents are Indians, you must be from India.

d) Have you ever gone back to see your family (in India)?

e) You're Malaysian? Oh I thought you were Indian.

f)  You must be great at making flatbreads

g) Do you speak Hindi? (no) Tamil? (no) INDIAN???
h) Are you of Brahmin or Aryyan descent? (Wait...what?)

i) Is the red dot made of blood? (I give up on life)

I could write a gazillion more but it's hiking up too much blood pressure. I personally don't know anybody in India, I can't help being a little darker than the pigmentally-challenged and jeez you really need to brush up on that dusty attic of a brain you have. I have been scorned and mocked and the feeling is one I wouldn't wish on anyone else.

However after a lot of those stupid moments I realise that I just need to let it go. I still get mad and I have been sharp to a couple of people who thought they were being smart. I figure that people make fun of us because not only are we a group of girls, we don't look intimidating and people think they can get away with anything. I guess it must be true because people look taken aback when I give sharp looks or retort.

Moral of the story : it is easy to be racist towards another. Perhaps a person's aesthetic value doesn't appeal to you and you feel the NEED to say something nasty. I invite you to put yourselves in the shoes of those on the receiving end and then will you realise, you can drive people to destruction if you don't know how and when to shut your mouth.