AainaA

This is a very very very long post. {be forewarned!}. I just came back from dinner with a girlfriend {last night lah}. I haven’t had crab for almost three days. It was nice to indulge. I simply adore crabs, sea urchins… oysters, and fresh persimmons.

Right – that last bit was a bit of a digression, but imagine if you will, the color when prepared with all the seafood. Such a contrast don’t you think? The lady at Fatty Crab recognized my face as I walked in.

“Would you like the usual?” she asked. Oh gawd, I’m a regular here now – I nodded. The next time I come, I’ll dress in purdah. This way, no one will recognize me… then again you don’t see purdah clad women here. Hmmm, best not. I can’t afford the stares just yet. You have to be size 11 to look really good. I’m getting there as it is at the rate I’m loosing weight each day.

Yippee! {For the loosing weight dear}

The skies thundered at four thirty in the afternoon. I have to rush out of Kuala Lumpur just now. It’s daunting trying to catch a cab home when the pregnant skies are about to belch its water babies out on the humid & hot city pavements. I will sit for my Learner’s License soon. I have to if I want to zip zap that sports car about town. I can’t wait to get my hands behind the wheels.

I just hope I’ll be a responsible driver and kill all the deviant drivers out there… muahahaha

Two cab drivers refused me earlier as I hailed them.

“Mana mau pergi?” {Where do you want to go?} he asked.
“Bangsar” I said. I wanted to be at my girlfriend’s gallery before it poured.
“Bangsar? Itu mana?” {Bangsar? Where’s that?}
“..Duh?”

“Bangsar please…” I queried.
“No, no… I take time off now” he said
“Why stop?”
“..Sorry ma’am, first time see beautiful woman so tall”
I rolled my eyes

The third came by.

“Yes?”
“Bangsar?”
He mumbled. What is wrong with cabbies these days? We’re the clients-lah. It used to be so easy just hailing for a cab. These days they’re so… Ewww… I can’t seem to find the word.
“Fifteen – jam lah”
“One five or five zero?” I asked. I couldn’t really hear since his radio was blaring some Bollywood tune.
“Fifth teen” he shouted. Hmm. Fifteen Ringgit to drive me from Jalan Ampang to Bangsar? Well, I don’t have a car yet. Might as well, seeing that the sky was about to have a breaking ceremony.

Once I climbed into the cab, he switched off the radio. The Lord heard my prayers. Thank you Lord, I know you can imagine being in a Bollywood movie with trails of scarves floating amidst the trees.

When we were about to reach Jalan Ma’arof, he queried.

“Where are you from?”
I was deep in my thoughts about you {again – the seventeenth time today!}, I wasn’t sure what he said. He repeated the question.
“What do you mean?”
“You lah, where you come from?” You know when someone asks me this question, I can only think of answering the truth. But we’re in this reality, where the Truth oftentimes, can seem a tad fiction.

“You not Malaysian right?” he added.
“Euh… Don’t I look Malaysian to you?”
“No lah, you’re very tall. Malaysian women short short” Have you realized how Malaysians like to repeat the word at the end? Like eat-eat, finish-finish-finish, etcetera.
“Some more, you look orang putih…” he lamented. {Moreover, you look Caucasian} Mo-lah {No}, me no gwailo! {I’m not a white person}See sepet {almond shaped} eyes, and hidung pendek {short nose} how can I possibly be gwailo? {Not that I want to, that would only segregate me into tiny sardine cans and instigate racism}
…
“You Christian ah?” he pressed. I looked at him. I literally turned to look at him.
“Why? Are you a Christian?” I asked.
“No, I’m Catholic…” he answered. I smiled as he fidgeted in his seat. I almost burst out laughing. I can’t believe the characters I meet in Kuala Lumpur.

“Is it true ah? Jesus cru… cru-x-fy for us?”
“What did your bible say?”
“Yes lah, bible say cru-x-fy – you Christian or what?”

Oh gawd. I have to set this thing right, according to my insight.

“What the bible said about crucifixion is for the believer, to…, {in my mind, I can see myself dressed up as a nun!} “Identify, Acknowledge and Educate” his/her lower desires such as avariciousness, lust of the world, immoral sins etcetera, about what is correct and incorrect according to the teachings of Christ”

“…you ah, why long winded one? Say simple simple lah”
“How long have you been a Christian?” I asked. I wanted to know what the priests have been propagating in Malaysia.
“Not Christian lah, I Catholic…” he mumbled as if I wasn’t paying attention to what he said. “My whole family Catholic, not Protestant or Jew you know.” He added, raising his voice – so much intensity coming from such a small sized man, perhaps in his late thirties.

“Teach me lah… I want to know” he pressed, as if he could see something in my eyes.
“Well.. The meaning of crucifixion is to “kill” the false self in turn letting the true Self out. It also means to reach Christ Within”
“Ah yo yo… like that ah? Difficult to become Christian – Which church you go to?” he added
“Any Church, Masjiid or Synagogue, it doesn’t matter…” I said.
“No, no… Catholic cannot enter Masjid – the Muslims will kill you. They cruel people here you know. They kill people one – they also bombed Nine Eleven you know”

I was stunned. Where on earth did he learn this? Is this what has been propagated at his Church? Good Lord!

“You can pray anywhere, because all the Churches, Masjids or Synagogues or even the temples are places of worship to the One Lord.” I said.
“Cannot lah. My priest says Protestants go to Protestant Church, Catholics to Catholic Church, Muslims to Masjid, and Hindus to temple lah”
“Well I’ll tell you this – you can go anywhere and pray – because your objective is to pray to the Lord right?”

He nodded.

“Do you think the Protestants, the Catholics, the Muslims, and the Jews have different deities?” I asked.
“No lah, they all believe in God”
“So where’s the problem?”
“Wah… You can teach me some more? I give you my card. You become my teacher, my Jesus. I pray to God, keep you good.”

The Muslims I’ve met who have read my work {articles} say I’m either a heretic or Dajjal. The Christians I’ve met think I would serve well as a Good Sister, or a Nun. The Jews AND the Israelites that I’ve met believe I live the `Ayn Sof in my breathing. The Buddhists, the Hindus think I’m one of them.

“What your name?” he asked.
“Ridtz”
“Me, Richard. You teach me Ridtz?”

I smiled.

We’re almost there, just around the corner towards the Gallery. He shoved me his card. He says he’ll drive me anywhere for free {and for life!} if I taught him about Catholicism and how to be a good Christian. I looked at him, and gave him his fifteen Ringgit.

“Richard.., being Christian, Muslim or Jew is not about the clothes or label we wear. It’s what our hearts show us – the good, and the bad, the light and the dark… For the Lord looks not at what we have, or how we do things to serve humanity – in turn serving Him, He looks at our hearts … just follow your heart Richard, follow your heart.”

Richard smiled as we waved goodbye to each other.

“Yes, teach your principles of good, but do not think to limit God within them. The goodness of each man is peculiar to himself.”

Are You A Christian, was first published on AainaA Insight, in 2007 herein re-published for your reading pleasure.