Category: Culture

Finding Food

People caught without food were spared from looking at the lavish and sumptuous meals posted continuously by some unaffected west coast Instagrammers.

In my years of covering the monsoonal floods, I have come to admire how resilient the kampung folk are. They are used to the annual calamity and they adapt as best as they can.

In the countryside, those who are skilled at cast net fishing can find food in the flood waters outside their kampung house. This man told me I should have come a day earlier to see him catch a tilapia as long as his outstretched arms. I doubt it was the usual angler’s exaggeration. He said it can feed a hungry family.

Others wait for supplies or are fed where they are temporary housed at relief centers. Salute to the aid workers, uniformed personnel, volunteers and everybody in the chain for providing help to the affected. I brought my own Penang White Curry Mee instant ramen; the hipster fad or flavour of 2014.

Sony Alpha a7R, ISO 400, f4, 1/1000 sec.

#floods #banjir #fishing #aftermath #landscape #temerloh #pahang #malaysia #sonyalpha #a7r #zess #tbt

Burping All The Way To Timbaktu

At the small town of Simpang Pertang in Negeri Sembilan. The junction town leads to either Titi or Simpang Durian. The latter is a small town that bears the last signs of civilization before a long, lonely drive to Karak in Pahang. The deserted road is rarely used unless Karak Highway is cut off by a major accident or landslide.

Pleasantly surprised to to find out I have a friend originating from the pit stop town of Simpang Durian. It is the frontier town before heading to remote Telemong or Malaysia’s own Timbaktu.

Stopped to drink at a roadside stall operated by a Malay village girl in Simpang Pertang. If you have been to a remote village grocer inside big rubber plantations or FELDA settlements, you would have tried the strange sodas available only in rural areas.

You know they are made in some backyard factories somewhere and contain generous colourings. Always suspect they use recycled soy sauce (kicap) bottles. Yet, they are awesome thirst quenchers under the hot sun.

I love the sarsaparilla and orange flavours because they are super gassy and the caustic soda tickles your throat violently. I burped repeatedly on the way to Timbuktu and that is what a good road trip is about.

Sony Alpha a7R, ISO 100, f6.3, 1/640 sec.

Nine Emperor Gods Festival Procession In Jinjang – Part 2

The problem with educating kids is that no college or university graduate wants to make a career out of some horrific bondage practice that makes one become like a slab of meat hooked and hung in a cold room.

Mortification of the flesh by piercing the skin, tongue or cheeks with spears is now practised mainly in Thailand Phuket’s Chinese community celebration of the festival. The bizarre ritual attracts a large number of tourists.

It is no gentle hipster piercings such as those on lip, tongue, nose, nipple, navel and genitals. So what do the temple in Jinjang do to keep the practice and tradition alive?

They import a bunch of male and female expatriate mediums or trance specialists from Thailand. They are pierced in front of the public (including children), who strangely applaud each successful painful piercing with shouts of “Huat” (or prosper). Prosperity is a Hokkien thing.

Sony Alpha a7R, ISO 1000, f4, 1/50 sec.

Nine Emperor Gods Festival Procession In Jinjang – Part 1

The roads here are a maze so I had no idea of the route the parade will cover. Heck. I don’t even know where my car was parked but I did bread crumb my tracks with a pic on my phone camera at every junction or turn during the walk.

Jinjang was a Chinese village notorious for gangsterism and triads many years ago. At one time, no taxis will send passengers in for fear of ambush by the gangs.

The gangs are gone or are silver haired now. The Chinese community solved the gangsterism and associated social problems by sending their kids to college. This broke the vicious cycle but it is to have another impact on the festival which I shall discuss in the next post.

As a photographer, my attitude was to cross the bridge when I get there, prepared to face all eventualities since it is my first time at their parade. There’s smoke, there’s fire and the Pak Thian Kiong temple is beautifully lit tonight. Am loving it but wished they started during the magic hour.

Sony Alpha a7R, ISO 400, f4, 1/80 sec.

Punk Rave

At the raffia string barrier to the rave party, one guy asked what ‘house music’ do I like. A question that was to serve as a secret handshake for admission. I told him the DJ is playing techno, not house. (I like techno too, though).

Reminiscing a bit: I spent a year, almost every night, at the decadent and legendary Backroom KL , the clubbing venue that was famous globally, in its relatively short lifetime.

It was finally busted for opening past 9 am daily and for clubbers possessing every known designer and recreational stimulant.

The dance floor was divided into straight and gay people on each side. On the center, dancing on top of a podium, was a shirtless local celebrity chef who is now a grandpa. Haha.

What memories. It was there that local club music transitioned from techno to house and its many sub-genres and beats.

Back to present. That kind of street cred is of little value here with the Burmese youths.

Bouncer: Quick, what kind of house?

Me: Percussion Tech House? (To sample, google/youtube: ‘Percussion Tech House DJ Mix by Dani Tejedor’)

Bouncer: Huh? Never mind, go in.

I like this unique youth subculture with members proclaiming to be punks and gothic rockers (cybergoths actually) and a liking for techno music.

These youths, like many here, have little access to formal education or a chance to break out of a vicious cycle.

Many were born here, grew up in the ghetto and got sucked into poverty, as their parents before them because of their unofficial and semi-official migrant status.

Call it youthful rebellion against the longhi sarongs their parents wear or the betelnut the older folk still chew. The teens are, at heart, polite gangs with tattooed scalp and dyed spiky hair. They are surprisingly tolerant and respectful of my presence as the only outsider here.

I met many punk gangs while in England and Europe during the 90s. The encounters weren’t always as peaceful.

Picture processed with grunge filter.

Sony Alpha a7R, ISO 100, f4, 1/60 sec.