Divergence of the filthy rich and smutty poor

Last Sunday, I went for a program called Bakti Sosial or what we called it Baksos (it's a trend to make shortforms of everything here…). It was totally sponsored by us the Malaysian students and was instructed with some help from one of the club in our faculty (they help us mainly in the sense of arranging agendas, finding suitable village in the rural community which we can help, and communications). Outline of the program were 'pengobatan gratis' where the seniors were to give conscientious medical check up, and the not-so-senior to prepare the medication while the juniors with the physical examination and vital checks. Besides that we had a 'pembagian sembako' where we give out staple victuals such as rice, sugar, salt and such.

The Baksos went smooth and fine and I had fun. But that was not actually the main point of me writing this entry.

Looking at these Indonesians (excluding my classmates, lecturers and those who are close to me), I see poverty. They may categorized themselves as 'not rich' but I pathetically see scarceness which I am tired of feeling sorry. It has been four years, and my sympathy has fade by time…

seeing these very hardworking men with well built muscles and yet under nutritious,
seeing mothers carrying their kids walk for miles in their almost worn-out slippers,
seeing painstaking jobs that are meant for machines but been done by men,
seeing starving children being fed with i-don't-want-to-know-what,
seeing family of five riding on a bushed-out motorcycle,
seeing man pulling burden 100 times of their bodyweight,
seeing people desperately open up my garbage looking for stuff to recycle,
seeing handicaps crawling on the road and others just don't seem to bother,
seeing beggars trying to act out their most sympathetic face everywhere,
seeing children running after public transport to sing for money,
seeing girls trying to fit in the 'latest' fashion by wearing oh-so-wrong but yet so hip for them,
seeing boys trying to grow up with cigars in between their fingers,
seeing hunching and dying old men still working and carrying out burdens on their back,
seeing people giving up their health over the littlest wealth, like punching a needle-sized hole to breath, and keep breathing…

and yet, on the other scene I see…

almost everyone in my class equipped with at least a megapixel camera phone,
and must have laptop,
and other gadgets – blackberry, DSLR, PSP, ipods, etc…,
driving Japanese/European fine-made mobiles,
or at least superbike and first-rate motorbikes,
">with at least a maid or two at home,
even drivers,
though most of them carry plagiarized LV handbags (like I don't know~) but still…,
tailoring 50k worth wedding dress,
getting monthly spa treatment,
having grand parties, wedding ceremonies, etc.,

Ah, I better stop listing all these pitiable things which has become a cliché – divergence of the filthy rich and smutty poor, and although tritely clear seen in our hackneyed life but not quite perceived by their reckless mind. God knows what is there hindering them to actually grasp the situation of where they are in. Its all about luck and power here. Again, I am sick these super-distinctive phenomenon. And I am tired of considering another sympathy…

While at the Baksos, seeing the ladies and children reminds me of the maids back at home.

All the maids in Malaysia (and construction workers too), I warn you to be thankful of what is given or back to this hell where you belong! Jangan nak mengada2, I know exactly how poverty your life was and how desperate of you actually! WORK! Jgn malas!!! Jangan nak lari pulak! (p/s: those with maids who are mentally retard and cannot read, please read this out loud to them. If they refuse to kneel, inform ME! I'll give them direct lesson for F.O.C!)