Hypothetical scene: in an open field, somewhere in the Klang Valley, sometime in the near future - some say as early as this coming Monday.
We are gathered here today, to survive through this ordeal called life, to pay our last respects to an ailing friend - Haka Sasimanu Sia - a friend that's about to kick it. Although our friend is not quite dead yet, there's nothing wrong with being proactive. But although he's hanging on by the skin of his false teeth, his time draws near. And so better now, before, rather than after - after the acrid rains fall, and the tears well up in our smoke-filled eyes. Not out of sadness, but out of confusion and disarray. Oh, and tear gas.
We live in a world of many contradictions. A world where two wrongs actually do someties make a right - which then frequently gets trampled on, and two rights still make a full 180 - or worse, result in legislative amendments to negate it. A world where flip-flops mean more than just the Japanese slippers that come in a multitude of colors. Colorfully troubled times, when words don't equate to action, and any action is contrary to what's actually said.
Confusing as the times may be, our friend always thought that the supernatural powers that be would value his existence. Mistaken in the assumption that while he walks through the Klang Valley in the shadow of the Twin Towers, he need not fear. Mistaken in the assumption that when one has nothing, one has nothing to lose.
For Haka Sasimanu Sia has been spit upon by zambies, lambasted by whips, betrayed by those he sought support from - by fiends, hitmen, his own country bumpkin hero-men... who downright stole his earlobes, not just borrowed them.
And so, we gather here, on his birthday, no less - not to honor his life, 'cause he didn't really have much of one - but to mourn his inevitable soon-to-be passing. Which we're told, is probably going to be soon. This devolution, however, will not be televised.
(more of Haka Sasimanu Sia's proactive eulogy, in the full post) Walski's post-eulogy postal post-it footpostnote: While Haka Sasimu Sia is not a real person (Walski would kinda pity someone with that name), remnants of his spirit still lives amongst us. Walski will let you figure this one out for yourselves this time. Unless you've already figured it out, you smart cookie, you. Non-Bahasa Malaysia readers may have a little difficulty, in which case, here's a tiny clue. Portions of the eulogy text has been adapted from famous quotes and prayers.
But many claim, and would have us believe, that our friend is far from nearing his untimely end. That he is alive and well. They claim, through facetious declarations and garish pronouncements of surveys, that our friend, in fact, couldn't be in better shape.
True, we have free and fair elections. Free - because voting is one of the few remaining things in life we don't have to fork out a singe penny for. Fair - the carnival-like atmosphere during elections stands as testimony - sometimes even circus-like.
But if everyone somehow sees us as happy, even though we know damn sure that we are not, are we still required to believe that we are? If Haka Sasimanu Sia were in better shape, he too would be unhappy for our forced content. A smile can be feigned during the moments of deepest sorrow, but general malcontent is a little bit more difficult to hide. No matter how you spin it.
And is our good friend Haka Sasimanu Sia in good shape, as claimed? His movements are closely monitored, the slightest actions on his part requiring explicit written permission, and when he speaks, what he gets in return is unrepentant disdain... Is that any way to be living? He is, in truth, as good as dead.
And thus we mourn his soon-to-be inevitable passing, while we remain behind. We who are about to continue with this tightly-guarded existence called democratic life, salute you. We who remain in bondage, asses to asses, dawn till dusk... remembering during every conscious moment that death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.
May you, Haka Sasimanu Sia, our beloved, and soon to be ex-friend, rest in peace. We who remain, on the other hand, won't have much of any peace, to speak of.
In the name of the father, the son-in-law, and the holy smokescreen... Amen.
Walski's post-eulogy postal post-it footpostnote: While Haka Sasimu Sia is not a real person (Walski would kinda pity someone with that name), remnants of his spirit still lives amongst us. Walski will let you figure this one out for yourselves this time. Unless you've already figured it out, you smart cookie, you. Non-Bahasa Malaysia readers may have a little difficulty, in which case, here's a tiny clue. Portions of the eulogy text has been adapted from famous quotes and prayers.