Yvonne Foong

What sets those like me apart from beggars is our desire to be contributing citizens in spite of adversaries faced. Life is likened to a game and we are the players. Sickness is an obstacle for some, while others undergo safety threat, bankruptcy, political persecution, natural disaster, and so on. Adversaries slow down your progress, during which time, you either turn setbacks to your advantage and grow or remain stuck forever,.

On the other, beggars act as though the world owes them a living. The above key chain was sold to me by a youth stronger and more able physically than I. While many are finding ways to make this world better, he strives on a minor disability for personal gain.

I don‘t remember the words exactly. But the card he handed out roughly said, “I am deaf by the trick of fate…..” He implied that we should buy because he’s deaf.

At once, I cringed and almost corrected him.

Many physically challenged individuals do innovate for a living. But these people are fundamentally no different from those healthy and strong.. They innovate, believing that they CAN, just like everybody else.

A girl I knew at Life College named Sia Ling Ling is one fine example. Do you remember her? The winner of 2006 AYA Dream Malaysia ‘Most Outstanding Youth of the Year’ award.

Ling Ling was born with Muscular Dystrophy that forced her legs into a bow and her fingers curled. When she’s not on a wheelchair, Ling Ling needs to lean onto something to remain standing for short periods. But that skinny and seemingly timid woman stubbornly left her family and the village alone to make a living in Kuala Lumpur. She handmade and sold souvenirs using wires at the night market, while refusing financial support from her sister who lives in the same city.

Through perseverance and never wanting to give in, Ling Ling not only found a job in the office, but the love of her life where she works now.

A very impressive individual, considering the little village she used to live where unthinkable and degrading insults were once hurled at her.

If you watch NTV7 regularly, you would spot Ling Ling on Saturday evenings, dancing on a wheelchair. The sensuous ballroom dance she performed with her standing instructor at the 2007 AYA Awards Night sent the auditorium roaring with applause.. When I saw her that night, I felt proud and glad to have nominated her the year before. Not forgetting is the fact that this girl used to sell handmade key chains at the night market. Many might have mistaken her as a beggar. If they meet her again today, I hope they would understand the difference between a beggar and this physically challenged innovator who believes that she can be normal.

Sometimes, people mistakenly consider fundraisers like mine parallel with beggars under the guise of ‘charity’. Let’s not neglect to consider the underlying motivation, which determines how far one would go and how much we can do in life.

Ling Ling selling handmade key chains was to serve as a temporary financial relief, a stepping stone towards an independent and competent life. Now she works for a monthly salary at Beautiful Gate Foundation, infecting her colleagues with smiles and laughter. Her success is to be measured by the number of souls she touched and changed by first overcoming her personal challenges. And that has set her apart from ‘beggars’ under the guise of ‘charity’

Businessmen who don’t understand this, will always be searching and yet not know what he is searching for.

I receive requests to be interviewed all the time. Just this month, I am featured in MillionaireAsia. Big thank you to Noelle Lim and others in the editorial team!

Being interviewed sure is fun. I love to speak my mind. So I’d gladly accept interviews, taking them as a chance to share and build bridges.

But there is a limit. I took a journalism class in 2006, started writing for newspapers that same year, and accepted countless interviews to date.

No one has ever pushed my limit as far as certain journalists from some local newspapers..

They’ve gotten so bad lately, I don’t bother replying them.

I won’t deny some were good. While others were last minute Joes. (and they think I won’t know.) They sent me e-mails, quickly stated their name, said which paper they write for, that they need to interview me. Before I could blink, they dished out a list of questions, and asked me for photographs.

Firstly, I’m not comfortable responding to questions by e-mail because I want you to write it. I won’t do the job and you get paid.

Second, if you really need me, you would have some clue what NF is. You’d go straight and ask questions that would reveal more info you otherwise can’t get through research. Clearly, you have not done any preparation.

Third, you are asking me for an interview. I decide when to agree or reject. But you signed off urging me to reply as soon as possible, and I don’t remember you explaining why.

Fourth, as far as I know, The Star newspaper has some stupid policy of not crediting photographers. Cheryl took my photographs and painstakingly edited them pro bono. Do you think I would exploit my own friend while you get paid?

Fifth, no I am not some blogger desperate for attention. Thank you.

Journalists needs to learn media ethics. And I do not condone lazy bums.

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Last year, a writer for The Rage Pullout of The Star Newspaper sent me an e-mail, asking for permission to use a photograph of YC and me that Cheryl snapped. I asked her to credit Cheryl, but she said the newspaper doesn’t allow it.

I contemplated. And while I contemplated, she took the photograph and used it anyway, without giving credit.

I decided to give the thumbs up, only for YC’s sake. But BEFORE I could tell her, she already took it without informing me.

She later explained. But to me, that is unethical. Getting featured is nothing great if you are unethical.

Sorry for not blogging lately. Have been holding my fingers while the transfer and change of webhosts took place. Exabytes is now sponsoring me a very generous amount of gigabytes. I should provide you more lucid photographs to see. Haha.

Thank you to my former webhost, Mercumaya, for being attentive and patient. I have always been the more geeky sort with a knack of always tweaking my site, never too satisfied with changes. And in the process of being adventurous with the html and php codes,, Mercumaya came in whenever I screwed up.

I am preparing for Tuesday’s mock U.S. presidential debate with me representing the more liberal Democrats. It’s much harder than I thought, having to study U.S. policies almost from scratch. Have been reading historical presidential speeches to make sure I sound right.

Before that, I need to deliver an article for the next iissue of YellowPost. Two weeks ago, I based on Carl Jung’s Electra Complex. Last week was Melanie Klein’s object relations and attachment styles. This week I am writing something different, with a quote from one of my favourite books. In which Justice William H. Rehnquist said:

Ideally speaking, you never know as much as you should about the particular matter being judged, whether you are a law clerk trying to decide what recommendation to make about a petition for certionari, or an appelate judge trying to decide whether to vote to affirm or reverse the decision of a lower court. The crucial questionn is, “Will I know more than I do now?“Perhaps it’s just my own way of working, but I’ve always preferred to go through one thing from beginning to end, do what I have to do with it, and move on.

One of those things you can’t quite explain in one sentence. As I learn to write better thesis now, I can see how much Malaysian students are lacking academically, that we fall short in critical thinking. For me, I can get so obsessed in analyzing life that I must tell myself when to stop and move on. Or I’ll never get enough sleep.

say… am on wordpress 2.5. Where is the publish button?

As a writer, my biggest wish is to reform the KDN or Home Ministry that control press licenses. There was a little misunderstanding over this article at SJEcho.

People were not happy with what Lee Hwa Beng was reported to have said. USJ.COM.MY is neither anti-government nor anti-lee hwa beng.

The way I see it, the fault belongs to the journalist. I mean, look at the report. It’s not an inverted pyramid writing technique. The event did not qualify as a hard news or soft news. But it’s not a feature story either. Sometimes reporters publish press release verbatim if they’re written well, but it’s not even that! More like a jigsaw puzzle forcibly pieced together.

So the journalist had to hand in the report. He must write something, anything. Oh, so Mr. Lee talked about usj.com.my… “I’ll just take that, and smack it right here, ok, over to the printer.”

Journalists are not bad people. I’ve met many, and they were all very nice and caring. So what’s the problem? I think the federal government’s tight grip on press license have denied journalism it’s creativity.

Obviously, when people read that article, they want to know what SJRA is. Who cares what the pro-tem chairman or Mr. Lee said? We want to read a story with valid information. Jigsaw puzzles and inverted pyramids might help you finish a last minute job, but it’s not going to score very well with readers.

You know, a lot of people today talk about the Iraq war and throw brickbats at U.S. for the lost of countless lives. But few managed to learn from it through vicarious observation.

Because of the large sum spent on military, Bush is cutting back on health and community funding. Awhile back, John Ling said America is heading towards a recession. Many thought the weakened U.S. dollar is an advantage for us foreigners, but let’s not forget America as the world’s superpower. The whole world economy is dependent on U.S. exports. Hence, we will all suffer when U.S. falls. Medical research might come to a halt.

Another thing I want to point out is this:- If the world’s superpower can fall into the ruins of capitalism, so can we. Despite the advantages that come with capitalism as a national economic system, there must be vigorous checks and balances at all levels of parliament as well as society at large.

If you read nothing from me but my blog, you might think all I do is raise funds for healthcare. But that’s far from the truth. I have been prioritizing my writings in the YellowPost in championing for social change. I constantly remind myself that I cannot simply earn a degree, get any job, receive a monthly salary and live day in, day out without contributing much to society.

I’m not a studious or smart person. What I have is passion and willpower. Yet I’m always struggling against the temptation to blend in with the masses.

Although I need to keep raising and saving money for unforeseen medical needs, I tell myself that my priority is much more than that. Medical treatments is only but a need to me, the way we all need to eat and sleep. Heart4Hope is to me like what your insurance policy is to you.

But this post isn’t directed at others per se, as I am also reminding myself. Sometimes, it gets depressing when sales are slow, but I must remember these are essential, but not important. I am not out to make a living or get rich. I am sure when the urgent need arise, many of you will come forward to assist me. My trustees and Trust Protectors will be here, so there’s nothing to worry about.

With that in mind, my continuous efforts are for those who wish to contribute at the moment. That’s why it’s vital to busy myself with studying and helping others in need. Or else, I might turn self-absorbed.

Thanks to my blog, readers often e-mail me to share their struggle with mental illnesses. Through them, I get to study outside the classroom, from real people, real lives.

Look how long-winded I got. Well, I don’t always bother structuring my writings. I’m just trying to say we shouldn’t be lured too far by money and capitalism. If a strong nation like the U.S. can fall apart, think what can possibly happen to us?

I hardly go shopping these days. I still get thrilled at the sight of interesting items on sale, but the motivation to buy is lost. I can afford them if I want to, but what’s the point? Seeing so many people turning to business because of the rising cost of living saddens me.

I have a super thrifty friend. After all these years knowing him, I learned not to expect much whenever he goes, “I’ll buy you lunch lah.� I wouldn’t say he is frugal in expenditure because a lot of what he earns is spent on looking good, but I promise, he needs none of those. And he’s not all that bad a friend. Just different.

And knowing him, I often pull his leg for the heck of it. One day, Eddie and I were out strolling at Little Tokyo when I chanced upon some nice and affordable Yukata on sale. Yuin Yin’s boyfriend told me to get one for her, so having checked and told him the price, I went back another day. At the shop, I tried on a Yukata and bought it for Yuin Yin. We left, and walked around a bit. There was a summer fair with lots to see. Before leaving, I did a quick calculation and decided to get a Yukata for myself as well. Never know, I might not return to this place again.

That night, after getting the Yukata, I met the friend online and told him what I saw. “Buy one for me lah,� I cajoled and pretended I haven‘t got it. “Ok,� he said. “Buy.�

“Really? So I’ll go get it and give you the receipt ah?,� I probed him further, while taking his words with a pinch of salt. “Yes. Go buy,� he said.

On one hand I felt happy. On the other, I doubt he meant it. Would someone who wait for months until the price of t-shirts drop by a few dollars before getting one, really buy me a Yukata?

Next day, he messaged me on MSN and said, “Eh, I was just joking�. “Shame on you to even have asked.�

I didn’t feel ashamed though. I giggled instead. Because I lied. I already bought it before asking him, knowing full well it’s a personal expenditure, and when I asked, I was only joking.

Some months after that, he often talked about getting a new belt. On my last two trips to America, he told me to get a brown one. But stupid me, for some reason, I forgot this super thrifty friend doesn’t always mean what he says. Eddie and I dropped by ROSS one Saturday morning, where I saw branded off-season belts. I found a Donald J. Trump and bought it on the friend’s behalf.

But when I told him about it, he claimed to have never asked me to buy. He did not even remember needing a brown one. “I don’t want people taking advantage of me,� he said.

Take advantage! Excuse me. I am not even asking back petrol money. I have receipts to prove and you just have to pay every cent worth.

In the end he agreed since I was sure he did make the request.

But I found it peculiar. Why would I take advantage of him? It left me with a nagging feeling. Those close to me would know that taking advantage of others is a no-no in my books. With Mom wearing the pants in my family, Dad often making unsound judgments after a traumatizing brain hemorrhage, I grew up proud and hard-headed. Since Mom is a Hakka, some say it’s in the genes. But it’s really my upbringing. Remember Gattaca? There’s no gene for the human spirit!

I remember when Aunt Ivy fell sick and the household expenditures were a mess, Dad and his elder sister got into a rift. Out of spite, she insulted the 14-year-old me, literally translated from Cantonese, “A smelly drain breeds smelly grass�.

She thought my family was wrong and I took after my parents. Funny thing though, because when she thought she knew Aunt Ivy well, she failed to see I took after Aunt Ivy instead of my parents–even though they aren’t all that bad.

In the eyes of others, Aunt Ivy pampered me too much. Perhaps she did. She sent me to ballet school, figure skating school, tuitions, karate lessons, and just about anything I wanted to learn or buy. But instead of becoming a spoilt brat, I took after her independent character. My Aunt Ivy never married. She was top of her career in the family, which I guess caused some jealousy among the elders. She never asked things from people, unless the favor involved physical strength that her weak body having survived cancer did not allow her to do. Even as she could not swallow much, her body so frail, she never depended on people.

She worked as a control personnel in MAS headquarters. On several accounts, she fainted in the office and was sent to the hospital. Yet she never complained. She often took me out to supper after work. Other days, she went for Yoga classes and meditation sessions at the Brickfields Buddhist temple. Aunt Ivy never spoke much with relatives and friends. I guess it was through her that I learned not to indulge in idle talks unless it is necessary to appear friendly.

When dad fell into a coma years ago, Aunt Ivy mortgaged the house we currently live in and invested all she had to pay his hospital bills. Later when she was bedridden in the nursing home where Dad’s elder sister insisted to place her, Aunt Ivy often called out for Dad’s attention. I guess despite Dad’s senility and irresponsible behavior, Aunt Ivy had always clung on to memories of him before he had a stroke. I remember she told me Dad was a loving and protective brother. Unfortunately, I never knew my father the way she did.

When Aunt Ivy passed away, a relative claimed that she was stressed out having to take care of my family and blamed us for her death! Well, maybe she was stressed. But looking at the house title and financial records, I guess Aunt Ivy was willing to sacrifice out of love for her own brother and his daughter.

And even though I do not know YC well, somehow the aura I feel while being with her reminds me of Aunt Ivy. I didn’t see the relationship until I wrote this post.

Therefore, it is very strange when my friend thought I was out to take advantage of him. Seeing the way I was brought up, taking advantage of people would be last on my mind. In fact, I often fear of being misunderstood as having ulterior motives.

But can’t blame the friend. It appears that a lot of girls today just want to find a man who would buy her everything. And men, like that super htirifty friend of mine, can’t help but cling on tight to his wallet.

Not to forget, the friend is quite handsome. Ahem. See, after poking fun at him, I must pull his leg also lah.

I’m so exhausted! Wore only a camisole and minishorts to brave the scorching sun. With the lack of balance nerves in the brain and having to carry a 3kg laptop, the 15-minute stroll drained a lot of energy.

It’s a stroll because I need to slow down and concentrate harder at every step to keep myself balanced. Unlike the insides of shopping malls, KL streets and pavements are very dangerous for an NF patient.

Someone saw me heading towards Taylor’s College this afternoon. Did you know that pathway behind their new signage in big, read blocks is inviting lawsuits? But in Malaysia, suing Taylors would mean creating trouble for yourself. I just don’t understand why people are so stupid to spend thousands on contruction only to produce “fancy” pathways with uneven and jagged stone slaps. Healthy people would have to slow down and physically challenged ones like myself would curse you everytime we pass by. If you’re going to spend that money, then produce something safe and efficient, no?

So after mailing a copy of my book to the Philippines, I waited under sun and hailed a cab 3 minutes later. I opened the front passenger door and told the driver I was going to The Summit. He mumbled something I couldn’t hear, but I got on anyway. Passengers shouldn’t have to ask for permission before riding a cab!

The uncle in his old age tried starting a conversation but I apologized and explained that I’m deaf. I added that my exact destination was Segi College, next to The Summit. He nodded, and the rest of our journey was silent.

Upon reaching my college, I gave him a five dollar note, which he took and slipped into his front pocket. I looked at him, expecting to receive change. But he lifted up both hands and showed me six fingers. “Six dollars,” he said.

“But uncle, at most, it should be RM3.50!” I protested like a child–my usual demeanour.

He hesitated, nose pointed in the air. But I continued looking at him, so he fetched a stack of dollar bill and gave me two pieces.

“Thanks!” I smiled, handling him three twenty cent coins.

Actually there was no jam between the post office and college, so it should have cost RM2.70. Consider those coins as tips then.

Like Reuben said, we can’t change people. But we can influence them.

“What do you do for fun?� Trina asked. “I bake, read, watch movies, or drink tea and just watch the world go by. What about you?�
“I don’t do anything for fun,� I said.
“You don’t do anything for fun? Why not?�
“�I don’t know�.
“Well, fun is nice. Why not try it?�

I guess she asked a pretty good question. Often I thought myself as a boring person who doesn’t do anything “fun�. But I’m fine.

My cousin HR visited yesterday. Concerned with her mental health, I invited her over to see how she’s coping. We had lunch at Sunway Pyramid while mom went off to work. With her limited student budget, HR brought only RM14 with her. I said lunch is on me and took her to Sushi King, Manhattan Fish Market, Sakae Sushi, and what have you. But HR insisted we ate something cheaper. She suggested McDonalds.

I said you can eat MCD any day in college, so let me treat you to a proper meal, since we seldom meet up.

We settled for Kenny Rogers, which in my opinion is just an overpriced fastfood joint. I would rather pick cook-to-order even if it means smaller portions. But as we walked all over deciding, I realized something peculiar about HR. She needed familiarity. McD, KFC, and Kenny Rogers are made popular with prominent advertising. She did not have to think twice.

And I should let HR order her food first before deciding mine. I didn’t know that yesterday, so after suggesting HR the quarter chicken platter, I left her alone to choose three side dishes and returned to my own menu.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw HR glanced uneasily at the choices, her fingers making subconscious selections. But whenever I turned the pages of my menu, HR got distracted and flipped her menu as though mimicking me. Sometimes, she closed the menu altogether and pushed it aside only to open it again.

I thought she didn’t know what to select, and when I asked her, she simply shrugged. But when the waiter took our orders, HR was able to point out her choice of side dishes with some effort.
We walked around some after lunch. Knowing HR doesn’t take much interest in sightseeing or window shopping (not even theme parks), I entered the stores I thought would provide her at least some amusement. She seemed okay and took interest in some things. A few stores later, my legs found themselves heading towards MPH and before I knew it, I got engrossed with books all the while wondering if HR would be okay. She picked up some books and appeared to read them. I asked her several times if she’s fine with me spending some time here, she said yes. She browsed another book and appeared to be reading it, then suddenly she tapped my shoulders. “I need to do my coursework.�

“Oh, sorry. I forget myself once I enter a bookstore�. Sje grinned cheerfully. So we headed home and talked awhile before she left.

Back at my house, HR appeared more composed and mindful. Familiarity. My house was familiar to her.

Now that HR was gone, I got on the internet, read some Jet Li articles, fetched some books from the study, and contemplated about helping Holly.

HR and I are similar in that we both do not always enjoy shopping. But while I prefer reading or immersing myself in projects and discussions, 22-year-old HR is mentally distressed without knowing.

That’s a glimpse of my daily life. I really don’t do anything for fun. And when I do, I do it because it means helping others. Much like why I attended the AMBP bloggers’ gathering to help Fiona socialize and keep her company.

I know it sounds so great and boastful to say I do things only because it‘s helpful. But that’s just the way I am.

I rather read a book and have a cuppa at Starbucks than shopping, or have light heart-to-heart talk with one friend than mingling with a group.

I’m really that boring.

So they meant it: “Go home if you don’t like it here (on what we are doing to you)”
A child’s game. How shameful!

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it’s least fortunate amongst them.

KUALA LUMPUR, Malaysia—Malaysia, which relies heavily on foreigners for menial work, has frozen the recruitment of workers from India, an official said Tuesday, in a move apparently linked to unrest among the country’s ethnic Indian citizens.

The decision, reportedly made by the Cabinet on Dec. 18, became public the day India’s Defense Minister A.K. Antony ended a three-day visit, which both sides hailed as a boost to rapidly growing bilateral relations, including military links. Antony was not informed of the decision during his talks with Prime Minister Abdullah Ahmad Badawi and other senior officials.

About 140,000 Indian migrants work in Malaysia, constituting the third largest group of foreign workers. Most take low-paying jobs as waiters, barbers and gardeners. however, some hold top professional posts in banks and information technology industries.

About 8 percent of the country’s population is ethnic Indian, some of whose families have lived in Malaysia for at least two generations.

Malaysia had barred employers from recruiting any more Bangladeshi workers in October following problems sparked by labor agents who leave the migrants stranded on arrival. There are some 200,000 Bangladeshi workers now in Malaysia.

An official from the Home Ministry confirmed the latest decision—which has not been officially announced—when reporters called for comment on a statement by a religious group that Indian temple workers were being denied permission to work in Malaysia.

The Malaysian Consultative Council of Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Sikhism and Taoism said it was shocked by the policy change and urged the government to reconsider its decision, warning this was a sensitive issue to non-Muslims in the country.

An official at the Indian Embassy said the mission is in touch with the “authorities concerned on the reported circular.” The official, who spoke on condition of anonymity citing protocol, did not elaborate.

The Home Ministry official said Indian workers who are already in the country will be allowed to stay until their permits expire, but they will not be renewed.

He said the ban is related to recent unrest among the country’s minority ethnic Indians, who are demanding racial equality in the Muslim majority country. Another ministry official also confirmed the ban order. Both spoke on condition of anonymity, citing protocol.

Read more at the Oakland Tribune

I played around with Steven’s winter cap this evening, while waiting for dinner to be served.

Louis, Jane, and few others staying in a neighboring apartment joined us, and together we formed a group of seven young working immigrants from all over Malaysia. (I’m a columnist and that’s work too)

Nothing needlessly expensive. A simple, healthy dinner on the second day of Christmas. Thank you, Steven and friends for opening your door to me. I already learned a lot from this short stay just by being with you.

Steven came home later and showed me a personalized Christmas card, complete with a recent mugshot and heart-shaped deco, by his sister studying in Taiwan.

Steven came from Kuching. So did Eddie. A KL born and bred friend of mine does not think much of small-town Sarawakians, whose communal spirit often precedes the self, even beyond logic. But how many siblings from big cities still send sentimental greetings to each other?

Steven invited me to stay here, so that should have made me Steven’s guest. But Sit Yee, Kean, and Louis treat me as their own guest. They cook for me, bring me around, share food with me, and they always make sure I’m doing alright when Steven’s not around.

None of these people celebrate Christmas. But I tell you, the wonderful things I noticed in them are far more precious than a hundred Christmas ornaments, carols, and candlelight dinners.

I’m a sentimental person. And love to me is the best meaning to Christmas that transcend race and religion.