the coconut tree - literary magazine of the society of english writers - sarawak

MARCH 2013 VOL. # 13 ISSUE #1

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THE COCONUT TREE LITERARY MAGAZINE OF THE SOCIETY OF ENGLISH WRITERS


Surprises catch us when we least expect them. Good

or bad, they change the way we think about the world

around us. Thrilling story lines often incorporate

some twist to catch the reader unawares.

Our theme for this issue is 'Surprises - the good and

the bad.' In this issue of the Society of English Writers

- Sarawak (SOSWE) magazine [Miri, Sarawak,

Malaysia], we explore what it means to be surprised,

good or bad, and its implications. We learn about a

surprising first year in medical school, a surprising

invitation, a surprising gift, a surprising descent, and a

surprising silence in Libya.

We thank you the reader for taking time, a rare

commodity today, to browse our literary magazine.

Hopefully, lessons learned in each writing will bring

meaning to your day. Thank you also to the

contributing authors who made this issue so

compelling. We have much to learn from one another.

Nancy Bronte Matheny, Editor

Life is full of surprises and serendipity. Being open to unexpected turns in the road is an important part of success. ~ Condoleeza Rice

In this issue:

• "The Days of Cadavers and

Lectures"

• "Me, as Pak Pandir"

• "It's indeed a good surprise"

• "Oil Slick"

• "Silence of Libya"

• Photo credits

• Elected Officers


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THE DAYS OF CADAVERS AND LECTURES A SURPRISING FIRST YEAR

AT MEDICAL SCHOOL

BY DR. LOH YUNN HUA

Looking back, life as a medical student in the Faculty of Medicine, University of Malaya, in the

70’s was certainly an enjoyable one , minus the exams of course. My class of 1973 - 78 started off

with 120 students, but after the first year a few dropped out when they found that it was not

to their liking.

"Was it the cadavers?" I wondered . From dissecting frogs in biology class, we were introduced

to cadavers in the first few days of medical studies. I can still recollect my first visit to the

anatomy dissection room at the ground floor beneath the Dean's Office. It was a very long

room lined with cadavers, dead bodies preserved in formalin. They were laid neatly in rows on

both sides of the room, leaving a central avenue for us to walk. There were six of us to a

body. My cadaver was a slim gentleman , in his fifties or sixties. With the help of lectures and

an instruction manual, we tried to dissect, guide and help each other with the help of our

roving lecturers. We had to dissect and identify every vein, artery, muscle, tendon, ligament ,

nerve and organ in his body.

Usually the dissection occurred after lunch. It was hot. There were only ceiling fans to cool us

down. Added to it was the strong smell of formalin that permeated right through our fingers,

wrinkling our skin and emphasizing the whirls on our finger tips. The smell plus small pieces of

tissue which stuck to our lab coats were quite difficult to remove. I could still remember these smells

and sights vividly. Luckily, there was the laundry or dhobi service available at our hall of

residence to wash our laboratory coats.

Once, I even had a blackout during dissection. My lecturer, Dr. Gomez, had me investigated for

abnormal heart rhythm. To me, this was more likely due to postural low blood pressure, since I

had been standing too long.

Cadavers are difficult to come by nowadays. Of course, there are those who have willed their bodies

to medical research, like my American Professor of anatomy, Professor John Gunther. He was

tall ,bespectacled, soft spoken, bearded, and always dressed in jeans. A few years ago, there

was a scandal of body parts trading of corpses in New York. This also involved the well known

BBC broadcaster, Alistair Cook who died in his nineties. (continued page 7)


"Usually the dissection occurred after lunch. It was hot...."


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ME, AS PAK PANDIR A SURPRISING INVITATION

BY CHARLES LO

Recently, I attended a course on how to teach

literature to secondary school students. The invited speaker

was a large Malay man. He taught us many things through

activities such as jigsaw reading, poster drawing, poetry

writing, and singing.

On the final day of the course, the speaker showed

us how to use miming as a means to familiarize the students

with different characters in novels or short stories.

Six teachers were randomly selected to take part in

this activity. I was shocked when the facilitator announced

that I would be the sixth person to perform in the skit. Gosh!

I had never acted in front of anyone before.

The facilitator gave each of us a card with the name

of the character we should mime. The name on my card was

Pak Pandir, a funny character who is the Malay version of

Mr. Bean. Pak Pandir epitomizes the most absurd and

outrageous things in the world. I could feel the blood

draining from my face.

"Ladies and gentlemen," announced the speaker in a

deep voice. " Those holding the cards have eight minutes to

think of how to mime their characters. When the time is over,

each of them will act in front of you and you have to guess

what character he or she is miming."

"Lo, how privileged you are," said one teacher,

nudging me with his elbow.

"You have been quiet throughout the course. Finally

we are able to see you act," chirped a young female teacher.

(continued on page 8)


"... I had never acted in front of anyone before ....."


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IT'S INDEED A GOOD SURPRISE A SURPRISING GIFT

BY JENNIE SOH

One evening, a few days before Chinese New Year, my husband brought some flowers

home. I thought it was so sweet for him to buy me flowers and asked, “Are they for me?” He turned

and said to me, “They're for the house!” I was a bit annoyed, if only he had said, “Yes, dear!” and

my day would have been happy!

Sometimes I do wonder why a romantic person like me is married to such an unromantic

husband like him. But then, throughout 35 years of marriage, I realized that romance will never

replace the caring gestures from him all of these years.

Last year, due to so much stress worrying about my mum and brother, both cancer patients,

I was negatively affected, both physically and spiritually. I kept on saying to myself that I cannot

afford to get sick because I need to take care of them. I did not realize that stress and worry could

tear me apart. I got fevers and headaches all of the time, and feared getting cancer. I lost much

weight and had dark circles under my eyes, due to sleepless nights, and did not go out for almost a

month.

I kept on saying that I needed to be strong. The thought of my late brother leaving us

suddenly added more worry to me. This is one surprise that turns our family a sad event that will

always remain in our heart.

I prayed so hard every night and one fine morning, I heard a loud clear voice saying, “GET

UP NOW, YOU ARE NOT SICK!” So I did and told my husband that I need fresh air and need to go

out. My husband happily submitted to my request. The voice was right, I definitely felt better. Now, I

am back to my normal self.

The day after I got up, my husband drove a brand new Proton and handed the keys to me

and said, “This is yours!”. This was indeed a good surprise, and I wondered why. Later I found out

that his friends had encouraged him to give his wife what she wanted, after I had complained that I

always received second hand things. I found out more when he realized that material things cannot

be given when a person is sick, or half dead, or even dead. The new car definitely resurrected me

back to life and this was the best surprise gift, beyond my expectations.

Many times we take for granted that surprises are always good, and sometimes blessings do

come in disguise. (continued on page 10)


"... my husband drove a brand new Proton and handed the keys to me and said...."


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OIL SLICK A SURPRISING DESCENT

BY FLORENCE ENAU

I was driving on the Miri -By-Pass after my

appointment with the skin specialist at the General Hospital

Miri. It was about 4:30pm on a Thursday afternoon. I was on

my way home driving west toward Pujut Road. Just before the

new Shell Petrol station the driver in front of me signaled to

turn right into the petrol station. I put my foot on the brake to

slow down, but I just slid half way off the road to my left. I

could hear the crunch of gravel as the left side of my car left

the road. I was finally able to stop.

I had just missed hitting the car in front of me. I got

the car back on the road again, but looked closely at the road

and saw that there was a swath of oil about two feet wide on

the road. I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw several

cars behind me had stopped – They had seen me go off the

road.

I drove on, but drove in the middle of the road for the

oil slick extended all the way to Pujut Road. I was just so

thankful that I was alright and had not gotten into an accident.

I had errands to do so I drove on to GK Supermarket and

called the police to report the oil slick on the road. I just

hoped that there was no accidents because of the oil on the

road.

"...I could hear the crunch of gravel....


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SILENCE OF LIBYA

A SURPRISING SILENCE

BY NANCY BRONTE MATHENY

The silence of the landscape was deafening. There, perched

atop a tall outcrop in the Jebel Akdar range (Green Mountain) just

before the Saharan desert, I sat viewing the stark contrast between

high desert and sky. In shades of tan, the Saharan panorama posed

in striking opposition to the royal blue of the noon sky. I had

climbed to Chafagi Aamer (Red Church), an ancient Roman church

in ruin from the Second Century. Slowed by an older woman of the

group in need of assistance, who later stayed behind, I was one of the

last to reach the peak, as the other members of the Archaeological

Society of Tripoli had already begun their descent.

The silence atop that peak held a certain holiness to it.

Nothing could be heard but the sound of one’s own breath. To

imagine the experience of early Christian believers lingered in my

mind. Their connection to their Creator was complete with such

savage beauty. The silence was only broken by the voice of Joan,

the interim American Ambassador in a country tipping on revolution.

She was one of two others who had remained atop the peak. But the

silence I held in my hand for that fleeting moment in time was

sacred, while in awe of the unspoiled beauty before me.

"The silence atop that peak held a certain holiness to it...."


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THE DAYS OF CADAVERS AND LECTURES (continued from page 2) As medical students, we each had to buy a skeleton so that when we read our anatomy notes, we

could simultaneously hold the bone in our hand, and identify structures. These included the marks and

impressions made by the various attachments to the bones, like muscles, tendons, and holes made by blood

vessels that went through the bones. I bought my skeleton from a Senior for a hundred dollars. I kept it in

a long rectangular paper box below my bed in Fourth College. Luckily, my roommate, a pretty Arts

student from Ipoh, did not object or have sleepless nights. I called him "Johnny," and regarded him as a

friend. Sometimes, I even dozed off holding the bone in my hand. No irreverence meant.

I read that in one American faculty of medicine, the students held a memorial and thanksgiving

service to those who had donated their bodies for them to study, a noble deed indeed. When we die, our

bodies are still useful for research, study, and saving lives, as in organ donation. Being a cash-strapped

medical student living in a small room, I sold off my skeleton after first year. I wonder where it is now

since the skeleton can survive for a long time, as proven by archaeological excavations. Nowadays,

medical students can study anatomy using virtual reality, or use preserved plastinated specimens which can

be used all over again. In the latter case, the veins, arteries, nerves, etc., are already separated from their

surrounding structures. They are, therefore, easily identifiable. There was a German doctor who preserved

himself this way, and is included in an international travelling exhibition of similarly preserved individuals,

in various poses. I remember seeing a photo of an American who had himself and his pet dog preserved

together side -by-side. Truly, friends to the end!

Anatomy also refers to the microscopic molecular structure, or cells, of which our body is made

up. Therefore, there is histology, where we have to peer into our microscope to look at cells, stained

beautifully with different chemicals. It was like looking at a piece of fabric with so many interesting

colours and motifs. Some stains like the one for treponema pallidium, that causes syphilis and yaws, are

even fluorescent, like psychedelic lights. During the first year as medical students, we studied the normal

human body. Besides the structure or anatomy, we had to study the functions or physiology of the various

systems like the nervous, digestive, and breathing systems, etc. My lecturer was a slim, small, dynamic

Asian lady, Margaret Duncan. She was well dressed, her hair in a bun. Our professor of physiology was

Professor Raman who taught us about asthma.

Another important subject in first year was biochemistry, or the study of chemical reactions that

take place in the human body, to produce energy, digest food, and remove waste products. I had a busy

time memorizing all of those long chemical cycles and equations. But life in first year was not all studies!


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THE DAYS OF CADAVERS AND LECTURES (continued from page 7)

In the beginning, we had orientation by our Seniors. A Senior asked me for the name of the white coat he

was wearing. I had the common sense to reply "house coat," since I had thought he was a Houseman or

Intern. This evoked plenty of laughs from the surrounding "know-it-all" Seniors. It's actually just called

"lab" or "laboratory coat." Then there was the Miss Anatomy arm wrestling contests, the water fights,

getting up very early in the morning for orientation, and singing college songs in the cold, dark mornings.

My first year as a medical student was bittersweet, but fun. It was the first time I had left home. Kuching

at that time was just a kampung. It was culture shock seeing the many cars and shopping malls. I enjoyed

taking the bus, passing through old Bangsar and going to Petaling Street and Globe Silk Store at Jalan

Tunku Rahman to shop. As Petula Clark's hit song Downtown said, "When you're alone, and life is getting

you down, you can always go downtown!" Well, that certainly helped me to survive my first year as a

medical student at the University of Malaysia in 1973!

ME, AS PAK PANDIR (continued from page 3)

I could only answer them with a wry, bitter smile.

As a quiet, introverted person, I found it too humiliating to bring the character to life through silly

gestures. I did not want to become a laughing stock. I was beside myself with fear and panic!

Soon the miming show began. All five teachers before me could present their roles with no

problem. They sent everyone into fits of laughter with their actions. I could not imagine myself acting like

a fool as they did: crying like a baby, sashaying around like a proud evil queen, hobbling sideways like a

crab, loping like a buck, or lumbering like the Hunch Back of Notre Dame. When it was my turn, everyone

grinned at me, expecting me to make a fool of myself in front of them. Their stares petrified me and I stood

motionless at the center of the room.

"C'mon, Lo, start miming now," prompted the speaker.

"I can't," said I, looking pleadingly at the man. "I don't know how to delve into my character."

" I have given you eight minutes to think of how to act. I'm sure you can do it," said the speaker,

oblivious to the mercy-seeking expression on my face. "Unleash your inner talent now."

"I can't," I replied . " I don't know the character on my card well."

"Are you sure?" asked the speaker, looking at me in disbelief.

"Yes! I am." I said, trying to sound firm. I knew that my reason was not convincing. Pak Pandir

is a household name in Malaysia.


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"Don't chicken out, Lo," persuaded the speaker." Teachers are supposed to be good actors."

Sensing that the facilitator was actually taunting me, I said adamantly: " I really can't do it. I

mean what I say. "

Every participant in the room fell silent. The speaker stared at me for a few seconds and said,

"Okay, you may go back to your seat now. Give me your card."

I gave him the card and returned to my seat. Dozens of eyes were following me. I tried to feign an

air of nonchalance.

"Okay, everyone," the speaker said in a raised voice."I will act on behalf of Lo. Sometimes we

need to offer someone a helping hand.

With that, he started his miming. He cocked his head jerkily from left to right and put an 'air hat'

on it. Then, he acted as if he had tripped over something and fell. He struggled up comically, pretended to

pick up a stone and tossed it into what seemed like an imaginary sea. Everyone except me laughed and

clapped his or her hands. A few female teachers doubled over with laughter. When he had finished, he

bowed chivalrously.

"Who am I?" asked the speaker.

"You are Pak Pandir!" shouted one lady.

"What a genius acting!" shouted another lady, in a voice full of admiration.

The speaker looked very pleased and bowed a few more times. The room was filled with cheers

and clapping and he soaked up the adulation smugly.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said the speaker. "What is the moral of this activity?"

"Be confident to assume new roles and responsibilities," opined one lady.

"Yes," said the speaker. "We can teach our students to be positive when taking up new roles.

What else?"

"We can help uncover hidden talents. Our students will become more creative," said one male

teacher.

"You're right," said the speaker."We can help our students to tap into their creativity."

"I like what we did just now. It encourages mutual learning. I am sure my students will enjoy it,"

remarked another teacher.

"Yes," said the speaker, " the activity enables the students to identify the personality traits of

different characters in literary texts. As a teacher, you should tailor your activities in such a way that they

are student-centered. To make the students grasp the concept of your teaching, you have to act first.


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Remember, do not let your character confine your creativity. As the fore-runners of education, we

should be proactive, innovative, resourceful and brave when facing challenges."

The course came to an end on a high note. Many participants shook hands with the speaker. I did

not shake hands with the man because I was not happy with what he had said in his closing speech. He

seemed to be hinting that I was not positive enough.

Mmm, did he really mean that? Was I, in fact, too negative?

IT'S INDEED A GOOD SURPRISE (continued from page 4) Good or bad surprises depend on how we deal with surprises. We can be overwhelmed, or we can be

shocked. I am shocked over my brother’s sudden announcement of his cancer. He died within two months.

This was a bad surprise! I was overwhelmed by my husband’s sudden generosity after 35 years of

marriage. This was a good surprise. Whatever it is, I have to learn to accept the facts of life!


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Photo / Quotation Credits:

Title Owner

Surprised girl License purchased at ShutterStock.com;

Image 57472243

Condoleeza Rice quote Moncour, M. (2013). Laura Moncur's

motivational quotes: Condoleeza Rice. The

quotations page. Quotationspage.com

Medical laboratory glass equipment still

life on blue purple

License purchased at ShutterStock.com;

Image 110901125

Pak Pandir http://www.lamankongsi.com/2011/10/kisah-

pak-pandir-dan-kapal-terbang.html

Proton automobile Jennie Soh

Slippery when wet License purchased at ShutterStock.com;

Image 115821274

Chafagi Aamer (The Red Church), near

Mizda, Libya

Nancy Bronte Matheny

SOCIETY OF ENGLISH WRITERS - SARAWAK - ELECTED OFFICERS

President Luke Bong Secretary Jennie Soh

Treasurer Siong Teck Yian Auditor Datin Juriah Abdullah

Committee Members:

Datin Juriah Abdullah, Bharathi Anand, Florence Enau, Helena Henry

Society blog: http://soswe2.blogspot.com

Contact us at: [email protected]

the coconut tree - literary magazine of the society of english writers - sarawak

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