boomp3.com What is the bloggerdygook? (Dedicated to Sulz)
Stuff that matters
“In the situations I have witnessed, there is no divine intervention. All we have is each other. We create our own problems, and it us up to us to solve them.”
James Nachtwey, anti-war documentary photographer (1999: 469)
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(updated: February 8, 2008)
Publications
Forthcoming
David, M. K., Ngeow, Y. M, Yoong, D. (fc). Gender Stereotypes in Malaysian Parliamentary Sittings: Stereotypes and Their Implications.
Yoong, D. (2008). Mixing Them Together: Interdiscursive Elements in Contemporary Animes and Mangas. La Trobe Linguistics Working Paper.
Yoong, D. (2008). Framing Poverty in Indonesia. Journal of Poverty.
Yoong, D. (2008). Standard English and Singlish: The Clash of Language Values in Contemporary Singapore. [pending]
2007
David, M. K. and Yoong, D. (2007). Elderspeak: Deprivation of Linguistic Human Rights?. In M. K. David (ed.) Language and Human Rights. Serdang: Universiti Putra Press.
David, M. K. and Yoong, D. (2007). Code-Switching in Eldercare. In S. I. Harnisch (ed.) In Memorium Rudolfo Jacobson.
Yoong, D. (2007). Rapport Building between an Uncle and Niece in a Malaysian Chinese Family. In David, M. K. (ed.). Politeness in Malaysian Family Talk. (In press).
2006
David, M. K., Jariah Mohd Jan, Kow, Y. C. and Yoong, S. C. (2006). Function and Role of Laughter in Malaysian Women’s and Men’s Talk. Multilingua 25. ISSN 0167-8507
Yoong, D. (2006). Accommodating to the Elderly in a Malaysian Geriatric Day-Care Centre: A Discourse Analysis. Unpublished Master Dissertation. Faculty of Languages and Linguistics, University of Malaya.
Yoong, D. (2006). Boycotting an International Tourism Company: A Critical Discourse Perspectives. In M. K. David, H. Burhanudeen, A. N. Abdullah (eds.). The Power of Language and the Media (146-161). Frankfurt: Peter Lang.
Yoong, D. and David, M. K. (2006). Talking to Older Malaysians: A Case Study. Multilingua 25, 165-182. ISSN 0167-8507
Paper Presentations
2006
David, M. K. and Yoong, D. (2006). Applying Knowledge of Psycholinguistics in Language Teaching. Paper presented at the Universiti Sains Malaysia International Language Learning Conference (November 23-25, 2006: Batu Feringgi, Penang).
David, M. K. and Yoong, D. (2006). Constructive Communication in Marriage and the Family. Paper presented at the Marriage Philosophy Seminar (29-30 Mac 2006), University of Malaya, Kuala Lumpur. Vol.2 Paper 39 (12p.)
Yoong, D. (2007). Framing Poverty in Indonesia. Paper presented at the Discourse of Poverty Conference (July 19, 2007) at the Faculty of Sociology, La Trobe University, Australia.
In progress
Yoong, D. (in progress). Orders and Disorders of Discourse in the Dewan Rakyat during Question Time. Unpublished PhD Thesis. La Trobe University, Australia.
Academic activities
An abstract reviewer for the Eleventh Conference of the Foundation for Endangered Languages: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, "Working Together for Endangered Languages: Research Challenges and Social Impacts." University of Malaya, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. 26-28 October 2007
THE honest truth is, for a comedian, even death is just a premise to make jokes about. I know this because I was on the phone with George Carlin nine days ago and we were making some death jokes. We were talking about Tim Russert and Bo Diddley and George said: “I feel safe for a while. There will probably be a break before they come after the next one. I always like to fly on an airline right after they’ve had a crash. It improves your odds.”
I called him to compliment him on his most recent special on HBO. Seventy years old and he cranks out another hour of great new stuff. He was in a hotel room in Las Vegas getting ready for his show. He was a monster.
You could certainly say that George downright invented modern American stand-up comedy in many ways. Every comedian does a little George. I couldn’t even count the number of times I’ve been standing around with some comedians and someone talks about some idea for a joke and another comedian would say, “Carlin does it.” I’ve heard it my whole career: “Carlin does it,” “Carlin already did it,” “Carlin did it eight years ago.”
And he didn’t just “do” it. He worked over an idea like a diamond cutter with facets and angles and refractions of light. He made you sorry you ever thought you wanted to be a comedian. He was like a train hobo with a chicken bone. When he was done there was nothing left for anybody.
But his brilliance fathered dozens of great comedians. I personally never cared about “Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television,” or “FM & AM.” To me, everything he did just had this gleaming wonderful precision and originality.
I became obsessed with him in the ’60s. As a kid it seemed like the whole world was funny because of George Carlin. His performing voice, even laced with profanity, always sounded as if he were trying to amuse a child. It was like the naughtiest, most fun grown-up you ever met was reading you a bedtime story.
I know George didn’t believe in heaven or hell. Like death, they were just more comedy premises. And it just makes me even sadder to think that when I reach my own end, whatever tumbling cataclysmic vortex of existence I’m spinning through, in that moment I will still have to think, “Carlin already did it.”
Excerpts via MSNBC. Foucault would have been so proud of him. :(
Comedian George Carlin dies at 71 Anti-Establishment icon gained fame with his ‘Seven Dirty Words’ routine
LOS ANGELES - Comedian George Carlin, a counter-culture hero famed for his routines about drugs and dirty words, died of heart failure at a Los Angeles-area hospital on Sunday, a spokesman said. He was 71.
Carlin, who had a history of heart and drug-dependency problems, died at Saint John’s Health Center in Santa Monica about 6 p.m. PDT after being admitted earlier in the afternoon for chest pains, spokesman Jeff Abraham told Reuters.
Known for his edgy, provocative material, Carlin achieved status as an anti-Establishment icon in the 1970s with stand-up bits full of drug references and a routine called “Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television.” A regulatory battle over a radio broadcast of the routine ultimately reached the U.S. Supreme Court.
NEW YORK (AP) — Pioneer photojournalist Cornell Capa, who used his pictures to illuminate social and political causes and also founded the International Center of Photography, died Friday. He was 90.
Capa, who had Parkinson's disease, died peacefully at his New York City home, the center said.
Cornell Capa was a Life magazine staff photographer from 1946 to 1954. He later joined the Paris-based Magnum agency founded by his brother Robert Capa, Henri Cartier-Bresson and others. He served as president of Magnum for four years.
Cornell Capa was best known for his empathetic photo coverage on social topics, including the destruction of native cultures in Latin America, mental retardation in children, the aging of the U.S. population, Jewish heritage and youthful Wall Street entrepreneurs.
During the 1960s, Capa produced notable picture essays on the Russian Orthodox church, Moscow Ballet School, Israel in the 1967 Six Day War, and the political campaigns of Adlai Stevenson, John and Robert Kennedy and Nelson Rockefeller.
Credited with coining the term "Concerned Photographer" to define the concept of using the craft to illuminate humanitarian issues, he also came up with the idea of business firms publishing annual reports, which opened up new work opportunities for Magnum's freelance photographers.
The pinnacle of Capa's creative thinking was International Center of Photography, founded in Manhattan in 1974 as a repository for his brother Robert's archives, and to collect, preserve and exhibit the work of others.
A Marine who survived being burned over more than 95 percent of his body in Iraq and established a charity to help burned children has died, the military has announced.
Marine Sgt. Merlin German, seen in May 2007, died last month of complications after surgery.
On February 10, 1971, photographers Henri Huet, 43, of the Associated Press, Larry Burrows, 44, of Life magazine, Kent Potter, 23, of United Press International, and Keisaburo Shimamoto, 34, of Newsweek were killed their South Vietnamese helicopter lost its way over the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Laos and was shot down by a North Vietnamese 37-mm anti-aircraft gun. Three of Saigon's soldiers and the four-man flight crew also perished in the midair explosion...
"For nearly three decades there was only faint hope that this story might be finished some day. But in 1996, the jungle crash site was rediscovered, and two years later - ten years ago last week - a team from the Hawaii-based Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command (JPAC) recovered camera parts, film, and other items, along with traces of organic material not yet obliterated by time and climate.The remains being so scant, case #2062 ultimately was ruled a 'circumstantial group identification' by JPAC's Central Identification Laboratory...
:'( Just seeing the pictures alone makes me really melancholy. These folks are pacifiers who played a big role in ending the Vietnam War. It's just so sad.
The world is a lesser place with the departure of this great documentary photojournalist.
I salute you, sir.
Of all his pictures, this one struck me a lot.
The caption reads "The poor in the land of plenty. Surrounded by the icons of success the blind man begs. He cannot see us. We are learning not to see him."
I finished watching Welcome to NHK. Was pretty taken aback by how psychologically broken the characters were.
Prior to attempting suicide, Misaki gave a 'lecture' to Sato:
Today I'd like to lecture about God.
I have created a chart that shows the ratio between pain and fun in life.
It is evident from this chart that fun things, things that make life worth living, these kind of happy occurrences make up less than ten percent of a person's life.
People who believe in God say this world was created by God.
Therefore, this world of pain and struggle was created by God.
The God who created such a miserable world cannot be a good person.
God is evil. There's no doubt about it.
Do you have counter arguments?
Since God is evil, he does mean things...
... that's why I know what I have to do about it.
I have to defeat God.
This world would probably transform into something wonderful if such a mean God vanished.
The problem is I don't know where God is, much less how to defeat Him.
Unlike others, I can't believe in God, since I have a poor imagination...
... If an extravagant miracle would occur before my eyes, like in the Bible, I would be able to believe in God.
If I had faith, I could blame all the bad things on God.
Then I'd be sure it wasn't my fault.
I'm reminded of Sartre's famous phrase: "Hell is other people."
But I'm pretty glad that the ending was a pretty happy one.
KUALA LUMPUR: “You dispose of junk, I recycle them. Please help this 78-year-old woman. Let your children learn the craft,” the Chinese message on the white crumpled cardboard read.
Loh Yok Ping was sitting next to the cardboard in front of a convenience store at Jalan Sultan, Chinatown, turning aluminium cans and paper cups into swan figurines as she called out to passers-by to take a closer look at her artwork.
Most people threw curious glances at the ornaments but few stopped to see, much less buy them. The going rate was RM3 for four paper swans and RM5 for two aluminium swans.
Loh said she started selling her crafts at Chinatown only recently, usually on weekends from 10am to 4pm, but often faced problems because the “mata” (police) would chase her away or drug addicts sometimes took her spot.
Neatly dressed with a dusting of talcum powder on her neck, the widow said she travelled to the site by bus from Salak South, where she had an old flat she bought at a very low price after “the heavy KL flood”, “decades ago”.
“I usually collect cans and cups from dustbins, but it is not easy because the cans are all taken away. I tried buying from restaurants and food stalls at 10 sen each but they turned me down. So, I buy from scrap metal outlets sometimes,” she said, smiling but with a tinge of sadness.
“I can make one in 15 to 25 minutes, but it took me almost an hour when I first picked up the skill years ago.
The mother of four said making the swans had helped her ease the pain of losing her first son who died in the late 90s in a car accident, but she is still lonely as her other sons lived too far away and seldom visited her.
“I cry everyday,” she mumbled as she lowered her thick spectacles to concentrate on blunting the cans’ sharp edges with tweezers. “This is very sharp, I have been cut numerous times so you have to do this.”
She said she could no longer do the jobs she had – such as washing dishes, house cleaning, and as a ballroom dancing instructor at the YMCA – after three surgeries on her leg, womb and kidney. She has to visit Hospital Kuala Lumpur regularly, too.
She sells the swans at charity sales and can be reached at 03-7983 8841.
A special skill: Loh surrounded by the paper cups and cans in Jalan Sultan, in Kuala Lumpur, which she sells after turning them into swans.
Melbourne is an eventful city. This is just so damn real. Via the Age.
One dead, gunman at large after city shooting June 18, 2007 - 12:37PM
A homicide squad detective checks the body of the man shot dead in Melbourne's CBD. the Age/Craig Abraham
A man shot dead in central Melbourne today may have been an innocent bystander caught in an ugly confrontation that spilled from a King Street bar into the city's morning rush hour.
A massive manhunt is under way for a gunman who shot three people at the corner of William Street and Flinders Lane about 8.20am.
The bystander had apparently come to the aid of a woman threatened by the gunman. He died in the street as he was treated by paramedics.
The woman, 24, and a man in his 30s were taken to Royal Melbourne Hospital with gunshot wounds to their upper bodies and were in critical conditions. They were undergoing surgery.
The woman, a travel agent from Chadstone, is thought to have known the gunman.
Her mother and two brothers rushed to the hospital about 10.30am and were ushered into the emergency ward.
Daughter's life 'in danger'
The distraught mother said her daughter's life was in danger.
Police have asked that reporters not publish her name until the gunman is found.
Inspector Glenn Weir told ABC radio a fourth woman was also being treated for "superficial" injuries received when she was assaulted by the gunman, police said. She was not shot.
Police later recovered a handgun and a dark jacket from a nearby building site. And they have appealed for a taxi driver, another motorist and a cyclist who saw the shootings to come forward.
A witness told theage.com.au the shootings followed a confrontation in a King Street bar. Detective Inspector Stephen Clark confirmed there was an incident at a King Street venue minutes before the shooting. Police have cordoned off King Street bar Barcode, declaring it a crime scene.
Victims shot 'point blank'
Malcolm Bates, a witness, said before the shooting broke out the gunman grabbed a woman by the neck as she sat in a taxi, and tried to get into the vehicle.
"The lady got away and he turned and shot three people basically point blank,'' Mr Bates said. "I was right across the road.''
He told ABC radio the gunman then ran along Flinders Lane towards the city centre.
He said the whole scenario took no longer than "the wink of an eye''.
Detective Inspector Clark said it was possible the dead man was an innocent bystander. There did not appear to be any relationship between the him and the shooter, he said
City lock-down
Police, led by the Special Operations Group, locked down a huge section of the central business district between William, Flinders, Collins and Spencer streets and conducted rooftop searches of city buildings.
Inspector Weir said police were combing the area to find the man.
He asked people in the area not to panic.
"There is an extensive search underway to try and find the offender at the moment," Inspector Weir said.
"There are numerous police attending to the search within the vicinity of the incident and there is a large cordon and containment operation underway as we speak.
"We are just asking the public not to panic and assist police if requested and if you have no business being in the vicinity of Flinders Lane and William Street please keep out of the area."
Workers urged to stay in offices
Police wearing bullet-proof vests scoured the area and police helicopters hovered overhead.
Inspector Weir said the last confirmed sighting of the gunman was east of the shooting scene, on Flinders Lane.
Police urged workers in the area to stay in their offices.
One witness, Brian Cotterell, told theage.com.au he went outside after hearing shots to see "three people lying on the ground".
Anyone with information is asked to contact Crime Stoppers on 1800 333 000.
theage.com.au, with AAP
Just yesterday, I witnessed a lady assaulted by a man who then ran away as he realised that the crowd was watching him. And today, this. This, is one of the 17 top livable places on earth. Welcome to Melbourne.
Last evening I borrowed one of the most powerful and haunting documentaries I've ever watched, "War photographer," a film directed by Christian Frei from the library. Although there were testimonies and accounts of CNN International reporter, Christiane Amanpour and Reuters cameraman, Des Wright, the 'protagonist' of the film is James Nachtwey, an international photojournalist who covered some of the most haunting pictures, which many of us have probably seen. We are able to follow Nachtwey's movements and experience his photo shoots, thanks to an external video camera placed on his SLR.
As I watched the documentary, the pictures taken by Nachtwey, I'd seen years ago, became much more surreal and made more sense. Nachtwey's documentation of the burial of a boy who died in Kosovo, became more 'real,' because we can witness the boy's mother breaking down in grief and everyone else looking very helpless not being able to revive the boy through miracles.
It's hard not to marvel the work of this photojournalist, but at the same time, it's hard not to feel the terrible pain of refugees in Kosovo after the war, the massacres in Rwanda, the conflicts in Palestine and the hardship of a family man who lost his arm and leg in a train accident in the slums of Jakarta.
Not surprisingly, the film won many awards. Some critical discourse analysts may fall into the trap of blasting the show as a means of getting recognition and profit, but (as ironic as it may seem) this film can be categorised as the work of a critcal discourse analyst, as it highlights the problems faced by ordinary people in the midst of the most challenging and cruel circumstances.
Reporters and journalist in this line of work witness some of the most sickening events in the history of humankind and often place their lives in danger to promote social change. These people are real heroes... period.
*all pics and copyrights belong to their respected owners.
PENANG: Loganathan Arumugam of the Alleycats passed away at 10.50am Monday at the Mount Miriam Hospital here. He was 54.
Loga, as he was fondly called, was admitted to the hospital on Saturday. He was diagnosed with lung cancer eight months ago.
“He had been having a very bad cough for a year,” said his elder brother David, 57, also of Alleycats fame.
Loga was married, with a 23-year-old son and a 20-year-old daughter. He provided vocals and played the flute for the band.
The Alleycats, formed here in 1969, had recorded 29 albums. The group started by playing in clubs around the country before signing a recording deal with PolyGram Records in 1978.
Although I'm not a big fan of the Alleycats, I've always admired their showmanship. Legend has it that they used to practise and jam at a studio called Black Widow along Jalan Gasing, where I used to frequent years ago.
Rest in peace, man...
Andainya aku pergi dulu
Andainya aku pergi dulu sebelummu Janganlah kau bersedih hati Andainya aku tiada lagi di sisimu Janganlah kau memencil diri Bayangkanlah masa-masa bahagia Semasa engkau dan aku Bermesra di langit biru Di waktu kasih berpadu
Andainya engkau pergi dulu sebelumku Mestikah aku hidup melara Andainya engkau tiada lagi di sisiku Mestikah aku kecewa
Ku percaya kau selalu di sisiku Walaupun jasadmu tiada Walau di mana kau berada Kasihku takkan berubah
Di pohon cemara ku ukirkan kata cinta Bulan tersenyum dan bersinar Berguguran daun jatuh lembut ke rambutmu Meraikan suasana indah Di sini ku berjanji disaksi rembulan Andainya ku pergi dulu Jikalau ku pergi dulu Ku nantimu di pintu syurga
If I left first
If I left before you Don't you feel sad If I am no longer by your side Don't you seclude yourself Recount those happy times When you and I Were intimate under the blue sky When our love was one
If you go before me Must I live on painfully If you are no longer by my side Will I feel pain
I believe you're always by my side Although you're no longer here Whereever you may be My love will never change
At the edge of my 'cemara' I carve the word love The moon smiled and shone The whithered leaves fall gently on your hair Celebrate the beautiful scene Here, I make my promise with the moon as my witness If I leave first If I go first I will wait for you at heaven's door
IPOH: Two brothers were killed and two others injured after a police patrol car skidded and hit them while chasing two suspected criminals in another car near Baling in Kedah yesterday.
Perak acting police chief Senior Asst I Datuk Hadi Ho Abdullah said the policemen had been chasing the suspects in a Proton Waja at high speed for about 60km when the suspects’ car suddenly braked at the Landak junction in Kupang, causing it to spin.
“The patrol car could not stop in time, causing it to crash into the Waja. Both cars skidded and the patrol car slammed into the students who were on their motorcycles on the opposite lane,” he said.
The suspects then abandoned their car and ran to a nearby village where they stopped a motorcyclist and rode off on his bike.
The dead brothers were identified as Muhammad Nazri Mustafa, 17, and Muhammad Naziman, 16, both students. The injured were Muhammad Nazri’s twin brother, Muhammad Nazirul, 17, and another schoolmate, also 17. All four were travelling home from school on two motorcycles when the patrol car crashed into them at about 1.10pm. The four were from SM Kuala Pegang.
The three police officers in the patrol car were unhurt.
The injured boys have been admitted to the Baling Hospital.
SAC I Ho said the Hulu Perak district police had sent the patrol car to trail the Waja, as they received a tip-off at about 12.15pm that the passengers were behaving suspiciously.
About 15 minutes later, the cops spotted the suspects’ car in Gerik, about 140km from here.
“Upon seeing the police, the Waja sped off . A high-speed chase then ensured along the Gerik-Kupang highway until the site where the accident took place,” he said.
“On behalf of the police force, we express regret over the tragedy. I have directed the Gerik district police chief to meet the family of the deceased,” he said.
Describing the accident as “unfortunate”, SAC (I) Hadi said the patrol car driver could not do anything to avoid the accident and the matter was being investigated by the Baling district police.
In ALOR STAR, Kedah CID chief Asst Comm Ismail Yatim said the suspects escaped into the thick jungles of Baling.
ACP Ismail said the patrol car from Perak had been chasing the suspects from Grik.
As at 7.30pm yesterday, the police had yet to catch the two suspects.
In BALING, housewife Naterah Salleh, said three days ago she was smiling at the cheerful Mother’s Day SMS greetings she had received on her mobile phone.
Yesterday, she was in tears when she heard that her sons Muhammad Nazri and Muhammad Naziman, who had sent the SMSes, had been killed in the accident .
Naterah, a divorcee, lives at Taman Bandar Baru in Sungai Petani with her daughter Siti Nuraishah Mustafa, 18.
Rituals can comfort and traditions soothe – even in this modern, secular world of ours.
GRIEF is all around us; bereavement is everywhere. The past fortnight has thrown this into sharp relief for me personally: so many people I know have recently lost loved ones.
One friend lost a grandmother; another, both his brother and his father in a short space of time; another, widowed two years ago, still grapples daily with the enormity of her loss.
But the universal fragility of life hit close to home when my wife’s uncle passed away last week, after a battle with cancer that lasted for the last 13 of his 83 years.
He died surrounded by his family, and his passing was marked in a simple and stately Anglican ceremony.
I was struck, not for the first time, by the fact that traditional funeral services are powerful and elegant forms of theatre. I say this with the greatest respect, as a theatre practitioner: I believe that it is the very formal theatricality of the funeral services of different cultures that lends them their power to heal and their ability to place death within the framework of their beliefs, and, in so doing, give comfort to those left behind.
People need ritual. Even in these careless and casual times, this repellent age of shorts and slippers, quickie weddings and SMS divorces, there is a sense that the end of a life is something that needs to be marked with dignity.
Attending the church service for my wife’s uncle, I was reminded how the elements of its choreography worked together to move, soothe, and reassure the faithful. The active is interwoven with the passive: one stands as hymns are sung, then sits to hear a eulogy, scriptural reading, or sermon. One bows one’s head in prayer or respect, and around you the faithful chorus “Amen”. There is music, the solemn procession of the casket in and out of the church, a crowd clad in white and black.
It was profoundly moving, even for someone of a different religion, and oddly satisfying, too; in therapy-speak, it gave closure. The aesthetic details of the ceremony communicated to the living the idea that death was inevitable, unchanging, and ever-present, but that there were ways to put manners into sorrow, and belief into the yawning chasm of grief.
I was taken back to the time of my maternal grandfather’s death, and I thought of how our Muslim rites, seemingly so different and so speedy, work in very similar ways.
When Grandpa died in Singapore, prayers were said, and his body was bathed by male family members and wrapped in white cloth in accordance with Islamic practice, a ritual cleansing that allows the living to come to terms with the physical reality of departure. I missed this part, though. My parents and I flew down from Kuala Lumpur to arrive at my grandmother’s flat just before he was to be taken to the cemetery.
The room was full of relatives and friends in white, the bookshelves draped in white sheets.
My grandparents’ flat had become – appropriately – a stage set for a funeral rite. It no longer resembled a home with memories that clung painfully to every stick of furniture. It was formally elevated, deliberately made strange: a space for ritual, for mourning.
We said our last goodbyes, silently, and prayed. My grandmother fell to her knees, weeping over his body as he was about to be taken away. One of the men gently restrained her, telling her – could I be imagining this? – that if even one tear of hers fell on his corpse, he could not enter heaven.
I remember thinking two entirely conflicting things: first, that this was a difficult thing to say to a widow, whether it had its basis in superstition or orthodox religious belief; and second, that this was an admirably poetic way to preserve some sense of dignity in the situation – an ancient formula for restraint. But my grandmother mastered her tears and regained her composure.
Half a dozen of us hoisted his body, wrapped in sheets and in a canvas sheath, and carried it down 12 flights of stairs.
The lifts are small in the Housing Board flats in Singapore; there is little room for the living, much less the dead.
The stairs were narrow; turning was difficult; Grandpa’s body was much heavier than I thought it would be. In that unsteady, tear-blurred transit down to the ground level, though, we were able to physically take the weight of grief onto our shoulders. In being allowed – obliged – to do something, it allowed us to release some of the pain in a way.
It’s always good to have something to do, or to refrain from doing. The immediate structure of inflexible rules of conduct that traditional societies deploy at funerals restores a sense of order to a world that – for the grieving – has been bleached of all certainty, all solidity, all direction.
In this democratic, secular age, nobody tells us what to do – until we discover we really need to be told, and that it helps.
At the graveyard, with rows of freshly dug plots made muddy by the rain, we discovered that the hole was too short, or too shallow, or deficient in some way that I have forgotten.
And so my Uncle Anwar, and my cousin Pasha and I clambered down into the grave, and with a shovel, a hoe and our bare hands, quietly and quickly made it suitable for my grandfather.
I thought of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and the fight at the graveyard that takes Hamlet and Laertes tumbling into an open grave, an image ripe with symbolism.
Yes, I thought, we will all die one day; I am just days or years or decades from a muddy plot of my own.
But in the days before my death, I resolved, I will mark it with some sense of propriety, of ceremony – not necessarily religious, because I am not yet a religious man – but with a sense of the redemptive power of human civilisation, of the pleasures of ritual.
Joyous dinners with friends; a calm half-hour in front of a great painting; time to talk, to cook and share food; telling amusing stories to old people; putting on a tie when it’s not strictly necessary; an hour with a book; learning patience and tact at long last: these are the little ceremonies of hope in daily life that will sustain me until my last days.
Huzir Sulaiman writes for theatre, television, and film. ‘Eight Plays’, a collection of his works for the stage, is published by Silverfish Books.
I would actually like to use this for the Ageing and Spirituality class I'm teaching - what book is it from? This week we are actually discussing grief.
