My Idol

Thousands of years of civilization have witnessed the coming and going of many great names; among them we’ve seen King Solomon, the wisest king of all time, Zinedine Zidane, the outstanding football maestro, and Florence Nightingale, who revolutionized our mindsets on nurses, not to mention the rest who have left their mark on history. Now, everyone should have a person whom they look to when they call for inspiration; one that makes them dream, and consequently reach for their dreams. We call them our idols. Who is yours? Take a guess at mine.

Sit back and relax; enjoy this story.

When I was a child, I was a subject to much prejudice. I was fat. Some people might have been so kind to suggest that I was ‘chubby’ but no, I had to face reality. I was overweight. Obese. My so called friends laughed at me. The kids at the playground teased me and refused to play with me. They pulled my hair. They pinched my cheeks. The ‘Fatty’, they called me, bringing me to the brink of tears each and every time they did this. I was only a ten year-old; what did I do to deserve such treatment from them!?

Every time they pointed at me, pulled my hair, chanting the sobriquet they gave me as well, I would run home straightaway. I would hide in the darkest corner of my house and weep uncontrollably, until her warm and gentle hands wrapped around my shoulders. She would then pull me into a tight hug, stroking my head at the same time and whisper, ‘sweetheart, it’s alright.’

It was just a simple act, yet it was enough to make me stop crying. Yes, my mother has been the pillar of my strength since I was a little girl. She taught me that clothes do not make the man; a person’s appearance does not foreshow his abilities. She taught me to climb up where I fell, and hold my head up high, just to prove the critics wrong.

In the few years that followed, I began to observe mum more. Even though she was often busy with housework, she nevertheless did her utmost best to give us, her family, the best. When I was sick, she was there beside me. When I was hungry, I could always look forward to a hot meal on the table. When I was down, she was there to lend me her shoulder. She was the best mother ever, a devoted wife and a dutiful one.

Alas, this is not Hollywood. This is a small town, where good endings never occur. I took her for granted and abused the care she had for me. I screamed and shrieked and shouted at her, but she never once lost her temper towards me. Instead, she just hugged me tight until my tantrums subsided. I didn’t notice that she was getting more and more fragile. She got weaker and weaker by the day until one day; she collapsed in the living room.

The doctor diagnosed her as a patient of third stage leukemia. I was too young to know what leukemia was, but I could see her getting frailer. And that was a torture I could not describe with words. It was like being crucified on a burning cross; or being hit time and again by a spiked bludgeon. I began to surf the internet, to find ways for her cure as she lay fragile in the hospital.

She passed away on a cold and chilly morning. I was fifteen. Her parting words were, ‘Samantha, I’m sorry mummy couldn’t accompany you anymore. Be a good girl, and listen to daddy. Maybe you weren’t in time to cure mummy, but do amass enough knowledge, and save more people in the future, alright?’

I wiped the tears from my eyes.

In all honesty, despite the legions of great people whose stories inspired millions to bring out the very best in them, she was the one who provided me with the spark that ignited my passion to become a doctor. Being such a dutiful mother to me, her memory was the most vital asset on my obstacle-filled journey to achieve my goal. She was the foundation of my motivation, the source of my power and the fuel of my spirit. In the face of impediments, the memory of her was the only thing with the ability to generate my fortitude when I look directly at the jaws of defeat.

She is the force behind me; my strength. The one who guided me; my mentor – my idol.

No Smoking

I stopped my car in front of Kim’s Florist. How fast does time fly. Felicia likes the bouquets they sell most. She said they were much fresher, and were more elegantly arranged.

I chuckled under my breath.

I knew how she liked her flowers arranged. The colours had to be just nice, not too colourful nor too dull. The flowers have to be of the right size, and there must be at least nine violets. To symbolize September, the month we were both born. So sweet.

I walked into the florist.

Today is her birthday. I remember this day, exactly twelve years ago, when I first met her. We both were taking our driving test. There she was, a sweet and cute girl, sobbing pitifully because she failed her test.

Fast forward seven years, and there she was, being walked down the aisle with her father. All these were memories, distant but clear…

I paid for the bouquet, and turned to leave. Behind me, an old couple was having a heated argument. As I walked past them, I heard what they were saying.

‘George, how many times must I tell you not to smoke!? Can you please not smoke!!?’

I stopped in my tracks. A tsunami of sadness crashed into me…

* * *

Felicia was a sweet girl. She was good-tempered and patient, not to mention being very caring towards her friends and families. However, she whose father had passed away due to lung cancer was extremely stringent when it comes to smoking. Anyone who smoked in front of her would immediately get a severe tongue trashing.

Of course, there was an exception. Me.

She loved me so much that she would let me off the hook when I took one or two puffs. I told her I was trying to kick the habit, yet she didn’t know I was puffing away like nobody’s business at my workplace.

She did attempt to reason me out a few times, but I just laughed her words off.

“Gilbert, can you please not smoke anymore?” she had asked me nicely but…

“Erm Felicia, can you not play the piano?” I replied cheekily.

She grumbled but didn’t say anything more. I knew I would win; she gave in to me too much. Yet I didn’t feel elated at all. Something in her expression bothered me much.

How I was to know that was the last time she would tell me not to smoke….

In the few days that followed, I continued to smoke in the house. The feeling was heavenly. Have you ever filled your house with the sweet scent of burning tobacco before? Well, that was it. Alluring.

I smoked when I read the papers. When I watched football. And even when I ate. Felicia didn’t say anything and I felt guilty. However, I thought she was using the old ‘make-him-feel-guilty’ routine again. So I wasn’t that perturbed by it.

Until she collapsed at the dinner table.

Lung cancer.

Why must every story end in the same way? Why? WHY!?

I could do nothing but to stay by her side for the remaining two months of her life. Seeing her lifeless body in the hospital ward, my heart was crushed. Into thousands, no, millions of pieces. Looking at her suffering I could never forgive myself, just for the fact that I was the one who brought death to her…

She passed away. During her final moments, she did all she could to keep me from being sad. Typical Felicia. Trying to give me the best even though she was suffering. I was in total agony, but I kept the smile plastered to my face. No, I didn’t want her to be sadder.

She told me she didn’t forbid me from smoking anymore. I couldn’t reply her. In spite of everything that made her body fragile and weak, she didn’t care about anything but to make me happy.

I knew it was too late; that nothing I could have done would bring her back again.

* * *

I snapped out from my reverie. Turning to George, I said, ‘for you not to regret; for you not to harm your loved ones, don’t smoke.’

I have never touched a cigarette since the day she collapsed on the dinner table.

Felicia, I love you.

The Most Unforgettable Character I Have Ever Met

I could still remember the day it happened.

So clear, like it had just happened yesterday. I guess it will be a part of me, the part which I would never forget no matter what.

It was a Saturday, a day in which I was feeling depressed after losing in soccer match with nobody to talk to and no outlet to release my frustrations. The setting sun glowered at me, as if reprimanding me for being overly downcast, but even the knowledge that I will be having extra classes for English couldn't lift my spirits.

I pushed the door open, as gently as I could so as not to show the class what my temper could do. The door still banged against the wall with a force enough to knock a person off his feet, so I wasn't surprised when my teacher gave me a scowl which I returned, only pleasantly.

Then my gaze focused onto the seat I usually occupied, and my scowl became uncharacteristically prominent. A new girl. Great. Occupying my usual seat. Even greater.

'No! ' I told myself. I had to fight the strange urge to strangle her. I had to. She wasn't worth it. I glared at the teacher, who glowered at me and instructed me to seat beside her. I did so grudgingly. Really, my blood was at its boiling point.

I thought it would be polite if I could make up for any of my irrational behaviour so I offered her my hand.

A surprised look, then a cold gaze. She stared at my hand for a full second, then she turned away.

Man, this is worse than hell.

'Sir, what's her name?'

It was time to take drastic actions. Heh, I'm smart.

'Abigail. Sean, no flirting in my class though.'

'I won't'

Like I would flirt with people like her. I don't like unfriendly girls. They make my goosebumps excite.

I stole a quick glance at her. Wow, nice scowl lady. You'd scare the daylight out of anybody who looks at you.

The next two hours passed by so fast that I didn't even have the time to think about Abigail. All I could do was to finish my work as fast as possible and wait for half-past ten to arrive. All I wanted was the class to end soon. How cliche.
As I was doodling on my paper, suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, the teacher clutched his chest and stood quite still. Then he collapsed.

The silence that followed was one of the loudest I've heard in my life. A bloodcurdling scream broke the eerie silence and before I knew it, the room was filled with panic and shock.

Everyone seemed to have lost his or her head. There was a fair amount of screaming and then sobs could be heard. Annie Tan fainted. Junyang Ng vomited. As I surveyed the scene, I could not help but marvel at the only person who did not show signs of stress-Abigail.

With a commanding voice, she yelled for the class to calm down. And with a sense of authority I could never have, she gave instructions. However, the shell-shocked students remained rooted to their seats and looked as though they couldn't understand English. She took an exasperated look around the room and finally decided to utilise my hidden potential to its fullest.

'CPR?' She said, grabbing my hand.

At that instantaneous moment, I felt my heartbeat accelerate. Wow. Reflex reaction, I guessed. She gave me a small smile, and I felt my cheeks go hot. Another reflex reaction.

I nodded briefly and I blew a lungful of air into the teacher's mouth. Ewww...his mouth tasted of cheese. High cholesterol. No wonder. I pumped at his heart. One, two, three, four.

Behind me, Abigail has called the ambulance.

'They're coming'

'Of course they are. Get Annie and Junyang out'

'No I want to assist you'

My brain seemed to freeze. I couldn't think. I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. How unusual.

For the next fourteen minutes, we didn't stop performing CPR on the teacher. It was tough but with her beside me, strangely enough, I didn't feel tired. I was prepared to do it the whole night.

But the ambulance arrived. The defibrillator was used and they stretchered him to the hospital. Pushing the rue I felt to the back of my mind, I packed my bags and went home.

After this incident, I totally changed my view of Abigail. She is kind-hearted and calm, not to mention being extremely knowledgeable and street-smart. Her ability to take control of a situation has greatly impressed me and thus she tops the list as the most unforgettable character I have ever met.

For the JB AC, 2010

Memories don't come easily.

If you didn't work for the memories, you wouldn't be deserving of them; at least, that's my mentality regarding memories. Every great success begins with the manifestation of an opportunity, but how did that opportunity get there?

It is there as the result of hard work. Your hard work.

Organising memories has never been easy. Not when you've had experienced many things; seen much, done much. Especially when you're a perfectionist and whatever you do would be remembered for long.

Today, I bring you my story/experience with my friends.

We start in 2008, when I was a rather unknown guy. One who has got nothing to show, nothing to shout about. In a nutshell: Just another average student. A forgettable one.

Then, as a new prefect recruit, I was participating enthusiastically in every event which was held by the prefectorial board, hoping to strike a good impression in my seniors (which, eventually I would find out that I didn't succeed). So I went to the then biannual camp, which was held in Kem Kaizen.

That was the place which I first got to know them. My juniors.

The first time I got a real close contact with them was when we were choosing places to sleep. Then, we had 41 people in that room and to save space, 5 of us (Justin Low, Edwin Ho, Lim Mao Fong, Nabil and I) decided to sleep on two mattresses. It was a tight squeeze but nevertheless fun.

Then, as the activities commenced, I got to mix with them; I got to know them. To remember the night-walk, in which Edwin, Justin, Lim and I walked together (oh Lim, thanks for your shoulder). To remember the obstacle course where Justin fell off the monkey bar, and Lim sitting on the raft(gondola) I steered. Priceless. Not to mention Lim's dream about Mr.Chew snoring when the siren/alarm sounded to wake us up.

Moving on, we have the memories of the epic drama journey to speak of the time we spent together. Most of my time was spent chopping trees down and stuff but we managed to had a few laughs here and there.

Shafiq, with his Silat moves as Panglima Gagak Hitam.
Edwin, with his skirt and the RM4xx sword.
Keshan's deep voice made him a stern spirit of the Ring.
Justin, bearded and all, looked like a very evil Jin.
And of course, Lim the Batman and his gun + Batman sticker on his shirt.

I now wish that I could attend a few more of their practice sessions but no, I couldn't.

A friendship isn't built through marchings and cases and theory and all. It's built from the love among the individuals, sustained by the sheer willpower of the friends, and enhanced through the constant care for the other ones.

If there's one thing I'd remember throughout my life in my tenure as an Editor of the LDDS, it would be the production of Graffiti '10. (Ash, you reading this?)
Anyway Lim submitted a couple of quality articles which got published. Totally superb. In addition to that, Justin co-wrote an article with me. About the importance of sleep.
And one guy whom I would remember is: Edwin, who didn't submit his poem despite assuring me it would come.

Guess that didn't exactly help my stress level.


There were a lot of things which we have gone through together. Being with friends gives me the pleasure and energy to carry on my duties with extra zest and being with them truly has helped me much. In them I see confidence, diligence, teamwork and many more.

And I believe these values would carry them far.

I have the faith, and I shall keep it. Although the journey has been abruptly stopped, they will rise as phoenixes do, rise from the ashes, and keep the flag flying high. Although I might've left the place, I know that they will do me proud, my friends.
This post is dedicated to EC AC '10.

There is still a myriad of memories still buried in the depths of my mind, but let them rest; us who remember will never let them be forgotten.

I'm grateful to have them as my juniors, my friends. Let's hope the chance arises again. All the best for now.

2010 State Level First Aid and Nursing Competition - Johor

Well, the 2010 State-Level First Aid and Nursing Competition went on as planned and a hearty congratulations to all the victors, especially to the team JB people who have once and again proved that we are the best!

This year, we managed to have three winners in the theory category.

Yeo Lee Kee for the Nursing Cadets,
Lim Mao Fong for the Ambulance Cadets; and
Khau Yu Ning for the Nursing Adults.

Of course, a big hand has to go to Chia Li Xin who was the 1st runner-up in the Nursing Cadet Category, as well as Liew Jun Jia who was the third in the Ambulance Adult Category not to mention the rest of the winners from the other districts.

Then let's give another round of applause to those who did well overall!!

The Nursing Cadets!
The Nursing Adults!
The Ambulance Adults!!
and.............
a big hand to the gallant losers, our Ambulance Cadets!!!

May they bounce back with more zest next year and claim the Dato' Lee Kong Chian Singapore Gold Challenge Trophy as their own. The greatest achievement lies in acquiring knowledge and the greatest pleasure lies in spreading knowledge. Remember that, guys, and go for greatness.

2011 will be your year the way 2009 was ours.
And Lim, win back what I won.

Meanwhile, let's hope the best for the rest. To our AA, NA and NC, get the C.I.C. Cup back to JB for a glamorous quadruple. To the Segamat AC team, you'd better prove yourselves to be better than us.

There is a month and a half before the Nationals, so let's sit back and relex. Meanwhile, enjoy.

We'll be back next year, bigger, stronger and better!!!
And we start preparing now.

25/4/2010

As it seems so, the achievements of a person determines his success.
Reality places certificates and trophies above everything else.
And so everyone competes for success in order to be real.

Non-reality places skills and knowledge, thinking skills and mental capabilities above all.
Sadly, no one gives a damn about it.

As everyone sets their eyes on the acclaimed prize, many neglected the most important things they obtained: The things they learnt throughout the process.

There was a topic for debate which I encountered, back in my younger days: 'Which is more important, the process or the results?'
The gridlock(stalemate) of words regarding the issue is concrete evidence that reality and non-reality gives us two separate insights into the community's mentality. One supports a materialistic mindset while the other goes all out for a more relaxing, laid-back approach to life.

Anyway, one thing which is completely true is that: whenever you attempt something in your life, go all out and leave no space for regrets. And that is what I would say for the JB contingent that is going to Yong Peng early on Sunday morning for the State-Level First Aid and nursing Competition.

To the participants:
All the best and don't hope for luck.

There is nothing more I can say.

Be it this place where you do your first act as a family.

The Five Men in Black

There was no breeze in the air that afternoon on the streets of Pelangi, nor any hint that a thunderstorm was on its way to ravage the little town; just the typical Malaysian hot weather casting its charm over the lands of Johor.

Zahid Dolah shifted the bag on his shoulders and prepared to cross the road. This road, as he knew it, was a dangerous place to be at, due to the number of accidents that had occurred throughout the years. He looked at his watch and cursed the unrelenting traffic. He was late for tuition, again.

There were neither pedestrian crossings nor overhead bridges to aid his goal of crossing the busy road. He waited for another moment, before finally giving up. Turning his back to the road, he decided to have lunch before mounting another attempt to conquer that road filled with never-ending traffic.

As he passed by a shop, his peripheral vision detected something that made him do a double take. It was a pencil. An unusual pencil, one that has a curved plastic handle and which is double the length of any ordinary pencil. It was a dream come true for Zahid, for a pencil that special would garner him the attention he craved so much.

All of a sudden, he heard a dull thud of metal on flesh. Zahid, too absorbed in his thoughts, did not think much about it until he turned around and saw a crowd gathering at the side of the road.

Not even pausing for a second to think, he rushed to the place where the crowd was forming. There lay a woman, in her mid-forties, whose consciousness was deteriorating fast. One moment she was able to moan for her son, and then she couldn't do anything but to mutter incomprehensible words to herself.

The woman's son, a teenager about the age of Zahid, was kneeling helplessly at the side of his mother. He had a few scratches here and there, but he looked unscathed otherwise. He was shocked though, judging by the expression on his face. Another old lady say by the side of the road, supporting a bruised leg.

The crowd was getting bigger by the minute, but nobody seemed to know what to do. Zahid's tears came running down his face. He could not help it. And then he saw them.

They came with pageantry, with a kind of beauty.

It was the kind of scene in which the slow motion technology would be used in Hollywood to maximise the emphasis on the importance of these people. Confidence was evident in their gait, and Zahid knew at once, that the injured women would be saved.

With a commanding tone, the one who seemed to be the leader told the crowd to not panic. To quote him, ' We know what we are going to do. Please step back so to let us do our jobs well.'

The leader delegated jobs to his friends and they sped off without further ado. Concentration etched on his face, he bent down and tapped the semiconscious woman's shoulders,' Sir, sir, are you alright?'

There was a minimal amount of laughter. In his haste to help the woman, he addressed her inappropriately by mistake. However, despite his blunder, firmness was present in his help for the woman so nobody laughed out loud.

Zahid was really impressed with him. He could never make such a blunder and yet continue what he was doing with a straight face. He turned his attention to the rest of the men in black.

A guy with really small eyes was talking to a phone. That's it! Why didn't Zahid think of that!? Calling an ambulance was within his means but he had panicked and didn't know what to do. There was a bespectacled guy who looked like Harry Potter carrying a first aid kit box, sprinting out from the school opposite the road at a breakneck speed. Zahid could have done that too.

Zahid was impressed beyond words. They really knew what they were doing.

Following that, the five men were all over the place, helping the victims clean their wounds. Bandaging the exposed injuries. Judging by their voices, they could only be fifteen or sixteen years old! How did they know how to do such things which most adults don't know of?

Just then, the semiconscious woman threw up. The leader gave a sharp bark of command and all his members were at his side at once. They turned her sideways and wiped away the discharged from her mouth. Her condition improved a little just then, and her eyelids fluttered. The son, clearly still in a state of shock, scrambled to her side at once. Relief filled his face, and he told her to hang in there.

The ambulance arrived about twenty minutes after the call was made, by which Zahid was feeling rather impatient. The way the paramedics lifted the semiconscious woman was extremely rough and showed the level of care they have for the woman was miserable. In fact, the leader of the Men in Black protested and offered to place the woman onto the stretcher but the paramedics didn't care and just lifted the woman indifferently.

As the other female victim went off to a nearby clinic, and the son went on the ambulance with his mother, the crowd dispersed off gradually. A few people congratulated the five men and shook their hands. Zahid wanted to do so as well; however, the leader shouted that they were late and they jogged off, leaving Zahid with the regret of not being knowledgeable enough to help them, yet.

And so Zahid promised himself, one day, one day, he will be able to work alongside the five men in black. And he will be working hard, waiting for that day to come.