Crab Island

Not being one to refuse a crustacean served on a platter, a trip to Pulau Ketam (that's Malay for Crab Island) promised an opportunity to indulge. What more motivation did I need to pack the overnight bag. With my visiting parents in tow, I pursued my next escape from the city.

Urban train routes are quite unlike their handsome cousins, the high streets running though towns, flanked by characteristic showpiece establishments- elegant and expensive dining and fashion shops, banks with names known by generations and generous landscaping.

the KTM Commuter train from the centre of KL out to Port Klang (one-way, one hour ride cost RM4.10)

The rail route which would take us out to the coast, stretched out along the least desirable pockets of real estate, opening up insights to the life of different norms and mores. Peeling backyard fences stand defensively with little of value to stand guard over, heaps and mounds of trash growing to keep the main streets beautiful, broken shanty towns of suffocating density and industrial wastelands playgrounds to children.

been there, done that. now abandoned

Boarding and alighting commuters provided a variety of entertainment and the hour on the train passed. I was happy to find out that the next ferry to the island was the slow, chugging wooden variety and not the sleek fiberglass craft that would have taken half the time to reach our destination. This was already the beginning of the enjoyment of the escape and speed had little to offer.

First things first on boarding the wooden ferry. Best to get a seat where the route to leaving the ferry is least obstructed. Being the first to alight was not important but rather if an unfortunate incident were to happen, we might best be able to leave the craft quickly and smoothly. Preoccupied with safety, I was glad to be able to locate the life jackets. Walking up for a closer look at the jackets tied to the ceiling, I visually examined how they were secured. No point having them if you can’t get to use them when needed. My mild paranoia is fed by incidences of ferry sinkings and the staunch practice of non-maintainance in our host country.

Pulau Ketam hosts a population of about 8,000 supported by fishing. Entire villages are built on stilts over the mangrove which covers 80% of the island.

wondering around along weather-worn wooden walkways and free-ranging dogs everywhere made my day

Like going back in time, motorised vehicles don’t exist here (well with the exception of the occasional motorized bicycle!). Getting around on foot or bicycle along wooden planked or concrete walkways provide a safe and relaxed environment and young children seem to be everywhere, cycling around on an errand or just cruising with friends way after dark. Simple elements that radically change how life is.

re-purposed plastic pails, jerry cans etc make interesting bicycle baskets

The dawn hours see a flurry of activity as the fishermen head out to sea trailed by flocks of sea birds sharing the same hopes.

local boatman deftly using the foot and leg

the island's powerhouse

long concrete walkways and houses on stilts strung out along river inlets

a commercial activity spied in alleys- shelling shrimp

the shrimp meat is sold separately from the shells which is sold to make shrimp stock for prawn noodle soup

a little island friend who accompanied us to dinner

wondering what else to do with your argyle socks? here the arm sock is a fashion statement!

a colorful wall mural flanking the entrance of one of the many temples on the island

the smell of salt in the air and the last crimson light,
a perfect close to a perfect day

Hope smiles!

Smile,
it is the key that fits the lock of everybody's heart. -Antony J. D'Angelo

Rescued animals are more often than not, scarred by their time on the streets, struggling to survive. This often leaves them psychologically and emotionally imprinted with fears of people, unforgiving elements in nature when they are without shelter and whatever else that may have caused them hurt as not many are sympathetic to strays. Their eyes tell stories of anxieties, fears and sadness.

Hope was withdrawn and quiet when we first met her. Perhaps with her disability, it was best for her to lie low and not draw attention to herself as she was really rendered vulnerable. For me, I looked forward to the day when she would feel secure enough to allow herself to express how she felt and to reach out.

Last week Hope smiled for the first time since we've known her!!

The next day she kept grinning! She doesn't do this all the time and not everyday. But we know now she's feeling different from before. When she greets me in the morning, she often pokes her paw out at me, making contact and getting my attention. She has started reaching out.

It's been one month and 10 days since Hope came to stay for home care and rehab and she's been the best company! Quiet and attentive, and always there!

I've begun to live my days in dog days- 7 dog days in one human calendar day (or something similar).So much to get done in a day and so much has happened each week.

In my last blog post on Hope, we were concentrating on strengthening her front legs with the wheelbarrow walk. She could only drag her hind legs. She hunched over her front legs and walked with difficulty as her front legs were not accustomed to bearing her weight.

That was three weeks ago.

With baby steps forward week by week and an unfailing routine of physiotherapy and exercise helped with lots of fun and motivation, we watched for every little sign that might indicate that her nerves were reconnecting. Her hind leg reflexes are now strong and obvious, where before it was so difficult to detect, we had to ask ourselves if we were imagining it. We needed to see if she had a sense of her hind legs and if she had voluntary control of them.

Hope can now stand in a stationary position on all four legs without any assistance for almost half a minute. She's now a runaway wheelbarrow as her front legs have really strengthened and she gets impatient with her hind leg exercises!

It's time to make changes to her routine to speed healing and recovery. Previously we worked on the Passive Range of Motion exercises (PROM) as she was mostly lying down all the time. Now she's gained muscle tone in all four legs, a sense of well-being, confidence and she's ready to take on a change.

The vet visited her last week and for the first time, she showed a distinct pain reaction in her left hind legs which is the most affected limb. This is the sign we've been hoping for as it indicates some nerve connection and that the function of her limbs are connected to the brain.

Hope getting lots of rest between her daily full exercise schedule!

Besides her PROM, her new Physical Therapy (PT) routine now includes the Active Joint Range of Motion exercises to increase joint mobility, flexibility, strengthen muscles, enhance conditioning and endurance and weight-bearing ability. With support groups, forums and many kind and helpful people out there who are also struggling with the wellness of their paralyzed companion animal and willing to share what they are doing, I've picked up accupressure techniques from video instructions. Hope gets her massages three times a day but don't for a moment envie her.

Again with shared information on the net, I found a design for a cart which would suit Hope's current disability and necessary PT routine. Two women, H and A. who were also involved in Hope's rescue off the streets, spent an afternoon, taking time off from work to help me put the cart together, not to mention them also sourcing for the materials beforehand.

The Hope Mobile - the sling is still being modified

The cart has taken Hope's PT one level up. With her supported in the cart, we're able to work on more exercises properly than if I were to juggle supporting her and working with her on her active PT.

With the cart we can now work more on proprioceptive exercises. Proprioception is the sense which detects limb position. Also weight shifting exercises so that Hope's walk will be more balanced as it seems like her left side is more affected by her injury. Ambulation exercises in the cart has her in a more correct posture than the wheelbarrow and they are helping to re-educate her how to walk all over again.

In time to come when she's more confident in the cart and when her legs are strogn enough, she'll learn to move around in her cart. Currently we're mostly using it for physical therapy.

Hope holding a more natural posture in her sling

The best thing after a full day's work!

Hope is like a road in the country;
there was never a road, but
when many people walk on it,
the road comes into existence. Lin YuTang

126 Dog Days

ago, Hope came to stay with us for home care. That's about 18 human days and in reality, seems a lot longer. It's hard to imagine another dimension of time superimposed on our dimension of time. As it is, so many people pack more than they can in a 24-hour day. What is it like to have 7 dog hours in 1 human hour??!!

Hope was lightly sedated for her transfer and delivered in a HUGE box. Here's the kicker- pets are not allowed in our condominium! but as it were, Hope has the perfect profile (at least for this situation)- she makes no noise and doesn't run around! Nonetheless those were some nervous moments!

Hope where she can see me most of the time. Rearranging furniture for Hope's space

I was fortunate that her caregivers before me had already worked out a daily routine which I could more or less follow and it looked easy enough from what they had shared with me. Of course it's easy to think you know everything just with knowledge and forget that it's experience that really counts in the end! I quickly found out that though I had the strength to lift Hope to take her for the 5-a-day pit stops, I didn't have the fitness required to lift her weight. By the end of the first week I felt like I had been moving house, shifting countless boxes!! Other things we do a lot more of include mopping and laundry!

It was time to institute some discipline or suffer more! And Discipline's not my personal favourite challenge. Learning to lift Hope the correct way and getting back to a routine with yoga for stretches and strengthening the muscles. I also reckon that if you're trying to do some good for a cause but don't do any good for the self then there's something here that's amiss and in the longer run, doesn't work out to be very constructive.

Hope in her morning sun spot by the balcony

why do you have to do what you do?
Hope's thinking, watching me do the yoga routine

Treats to keep her stimulated and occupied and just enjoying Life -
one milk ice treat each afternoon to beat the sweltering heat

I make her a frozen milk treat which she gets each day. Just simple enjoyment and stimulation.

Surely the soul can hardly heal the body if it does not taste the joy of Life.

Today I baked liver biscuits. Hard ones to keep the teeth clean, burn some time and also a new treat to reward her for her exercise routine which is gradually being stepped up. Only they look like brown hershey kisses thingees and not really the best subject for a photo! But Hope only cares about the important details.

I'm done with the milk ice, now what? - taking comfort in her favourite Grumpy cushion

the wheelbarrow walk using a towel sling 4 times a day
(to the duration of 2 Barry White songs!) to maintain forelegs flexibility and strength

We do a half hour of PROM (Passive Range of Motion) exercises twice a day for all four legs. This involves passive flexion, extension and light massage of the muscles to enhance blood circulation, prevent muscle contracture and maintain flexibility. We do daily sit-to-stand exercises and her hind legs seem to be getting stronger, where previously her hind leg muscles had severely atrophied and were totally limp. Now Hope is able to bear her own weight on her hind legs for a tiny little 8 seconds each time. I know it's really little but it means a lot right now from what we first began with. Hope is also getting more active as I get her to scoot on her butt to get to her food dish. It's sometimes difficult and pulls at the heart strings watching her do it, like watching a stroke patient learning to walk, but I'm hoping it will unwire any learned helplessness she might have acquired. She shows interest in trying to move around but sometimes gets overwhelmed by the effort required.

In a couple of days when her pressure sores have just about shrunk to a smaller spot, we'll be trying on her baby plastic pants which will help protect her bony butt and cut the friction so she can scoot around on her butt.

the similarity amuses us!

A well-wisher brought Hope her favourite Grumpy cushion which has proven most useful and comfortable, much like a travel wraparound-the-neck cushion. Hope spends hours hugging it in some kind of affiliation.

Bali Kakiang

I have some memories of my maternal grandfather but I was too young to really have known him. In my child's memory, he seemed like a kind and quiet man. Perhaps he brought us little gifts and small toys when he visited us.

Bali Kakiang (Kakiang means Grandpa in the local Balinese dialect) was probably the closest thing I came to knowing a grandfather and at best, it was still distant.

This painting I passed several times in a shop window on my last trip to Bali.
It reminded me of Kakiang and how he would look on his way home at the end of the day.
The dead and dried coconut palm leaf stems were collected for firewood as
most of the villagers in our village still cooked with firewood.

It now hangs on the wall where I sit every day at my desk in front of the lap top,
bringing back rich memories that reside in the heart.

Language and a whole different life separated us and few words passed between us. But that didn't prevent us from sharing moments that needed few words. We sometimes sat in silence over a mug of coffee, always sitting on the floor as is the normal Balinese practice, or by the reflective fish pond in the garden when he dropped by, always unannounced like a ghost. Some early mornings when the day has already begun for the farmers but hardly anyone else is stirring, we'd stand together and nod our agreement and approval on inspecting a healthy growing shrub or the moss-covered Balinese stone carved guardians at the front gate.

Other times we'd be running out of the house and shouting in alarm and frantically waving our arms to attract Kakiang's attention and screaming for him to be careful as he steadfastly climbed his wobbly bamboo ladder up a fruit tree to pick the harvest that was nestled 20 meters above. Mostly he ignored us or irritably grunted something I had no way of understanding. His bent-double form, inching up the tree, slowly but surely. A rest day simply didn't exist in his life. Some mornings we'd wake and find a freshly picked ripe lush papaya laid at our doorstep or a newspaper bundled treasure of sweet potato, damp earth still clinging to the roots.

It was Kakiang who conducted the prayers and blessing for the house when we first moved in as he was the land owner. His daughter-in-law all dressed in her traditional finery, was in attendance. Half way through the solemn ceremony, her mobile rang and it was a comical sight to watch her groping around in her kebaya top where she had stashed it away. Not for a moment was Kakiang distracted from his important task.

When I moved out of Bali just over a year ago, I said my goodbyes but never really knowing whether Kakiang understood what I tried to say to him. Half a year later he passed away, not surviving a road accident while walking home one evening on the street where I used to live.

Kakiang on a mission.
It's not apparent, but he's already ascended about 25 feet up this tree

Another painting by the same young artist which I absolutely had to have. The artist's commentary is that man is very much an animal himself, like the other animals. In fact, animals show/keep their color but a man is ever ready to change his color like the chameleon.

Intoxicated

Intoxicated by the wine of Life
impalpable cocoon of stillness.
nectar coursing through the labyrinth of veins.
eyelids laced with webs of dreams
layer upon layer,
emerging from the vortex of night
to meet the glittering necklace of dawn.

(12 May 08, Bali)

braving the high altitude cold morning air,
we perched at the rim of the crater waiting for first light- photo taken with KC

Too long since we've been away.
We returned to Bali last week, the second time in the last two months after being away for over a year. Our return was met by friends who welcomed us like long lost siblings. It was nothing short of a home-coming everyone wishes for. Re-visiting our secret retreats, the soul and every breath defined infinitude.
We headed straight for the hills to what had been our last home in the small village of Junjungan, just north of Ubud.

The absence of excessive man-made pollution- of air, noise, light, infrastructure, was striking. The morning air, crystal clear, wrapped every space in a palace of silence. Night-cloaked country roads devoid of street lamps lit only by the love language of the ephemeral fireflies. The night skies, bejeweled with stars, beckoned us to wake and drink in the heavens. The tapestry of green- padi fields herringbone stitched with towering coconut palms and embroidered with nameless wild flora soothed the eyes like summer rain.

Life simplified, without distractions, without clutter, leaving only the unadulterated taste of Life. Sated with the good life, this is my Rasa Tanah.

the lotus beauty graces our pond at home; the silent temple guardian

the canopy of cerulean skies; a wandering fragrant frangipani floating in my pool

the proliferate bamboo; view from the bedroom as dawn breaks over the tree tops

toiling marks every day of the calendar in our village;
this always takes my breath away- majestic towering volcanos and cascading terraces
(the view from around the corner from where we used to work)



magnificence mirrored

Diary of Hope

This is my diary about Hope.

There are so many questions we wish could be answered. There is so much certainty we desire.

Often when we set out on a path, we make targets and plan for results. Our lives are so oriented towards achievement that the possibility of failure probably means we would not choose to embark on that path. Although the irony of Life is that just when we are dead sure of things, it doesn't even always turn out the way we planned and managed things!

This journey is not one of those. There are no guarantees, there are no clear markers for success. This is a journey of the heart, of hope and faith. Perhaps what we are learning each day is not to focus on where all this will take us at the end point and the constant weighing of whether each effort, each step is worth something. Rather this is about each and every moment with Hope, about Hope and about each of our journeys of discovery, growth and realizations. And if we see the richness in each day, and live in moments- then surely we have reached a summit many of us do not recognize and take for granted every day.

11 Mar 2008
Hope was rescued off the streets and has already spent a month boarding at the vet.

Her pressure sores on both shoulders and hips are pretty severe at this stage.

Her ribs are showing from malnutrition and she has heavy yellow discharge from her dry eyes. She seems quite listless.

She has a spinal lesion and compression in the thoracic vertebrae which affects her upper motor neuron function and is paralyzed in both her hind legs.

18 Mar 2008
Hope lying on kid’s floaties to take the pressure off her sores which have almost gone through to the bone by now.

She’s been transferred to a crate and shows some interest in what’s going on around her.

Started on Hope’s PROM (Passive Range of Motion) physiotherapy 5 days ago.

She’s also been getting some alternative health therapy (reiki) from H who rescued her from being abused on the streets.

24 Mar 2008
Hope’s pressure sores are a constant challenge.

Her hind legs have suffered from muscle atrophy and disuse. There's no movement as her hind legs are totally paralyzed and limp.

Carrying her out of her crate for her physio takes quite an effort.




27 Mar 2008

Hope has been moved to her new residence yesterday.

Here’s Hope at P&R's home. They’re making sure she’s well-cushioned and the main concern now is to reduce her pressure sores and increase her overall well-being.

She’s being turned every hour to help with the pressure sores. Her caregivers are kind and attentive and it’s only with this kind of care can the pressure sores be alleviated.

Looking after Hope is a full-time responsibility. P&R are in an ideal position as they are retired and able to give her the attention she needs for now. Needless to say, their kind hearts are part of the healing formula.

10 Apr 08

Barely 2 weeks have passed in home care and Hope has noticeably perked up.

She shows interest in her surroundings and people. She has begun to sit up on her elbows. She whimpers to call for P.

Her sores have improved tremendously and are granulating well. The wound doesn’t look so sunken any more.

15 Apr 08

Hope always looks serious but she’s showing signs of affection.

She sometimes sits up when people are around and only moves, presumably by dragging herself when she’s left alone.

The diameter of her sores have shrunk considerably. Her shoulder wound has closed.










This is the dining room which P&R so generously cleared of furniture for Hope's use.






Hope getting attention from her visitors and very caring benefactor.








17 Apr 08
Hope sitting up but still has no use of her back legs.

She is on an anti-inflammatory and supplements. The rest is left to time and hope that her nerves will heal by themselves.

If this were a perfect life, she would have been treated by an orthopedic vet and neuropathologic surgeon. But such treatment is not readily available in this part of the world. Acupuncture would have been another desirable treatment but again, no expertise is available here.

Her larger size adds another challenge as she has to be carried especially for toilet times when she needs help with having her bladder expressed.

27 Apr 08

Hope struggles by herself to sit up like a normal dog.

She seems to enjoy the attention and relaxation during her PT.

Her sores have almost healed.

She shows a larger range of responses and emotions now.

Her ribs no longer show with proper diet and her hind legs have some flesh now.
Her caregivers have done such a great job.

Heart of The Matter

I am intrigued and impressed by the intensity and ferocity of the public outrage in response to the current emails circulating at light speed regarding a certain artist- this extract from Wikipedia:

"In 2007 Guillermo Vargas took a stray dog from the streets of Managua, Nicarague and tied it to a short leash in an art gallery, titling his exhibit "Eres Lo Que Lees" ("You Are What You Read"). Photographs appeared on the Internet showing a emaciated dog, tied to a wall by a length of rope in a room full of standing people, with the title of the exhibit written on the wall in dog food. The outrage triggered by the exhibit spawned allegations that the dog had been left to starve to death; these allegations quickly spread internationally via blogs, e-mails, and other unconfirmed sources."

The circulating emails encourage the signing of an online petition to stop the artist from repeating his artistic statement in another art exhibition.

Some said they were in tears when they read about this, others angry. It seems all energy is directed at the artist, condemning him and attempting to stop him. We're told that we can make a difference, save a life etc in just a few seconds without leaving the comfort of our chairs at home or in the office if we just tap on our keyboards, taking only a few seconds to sign a petition. That’s one way to do something constructive about where we stand on such issues.

But wait a minute- what IS the Heart of The Matter?

Yes this artist’s action may not be something many of us would condone. The truth is many things which we would not condone happen each day, everywhere, hundreds of miles away from where we may be or just right beneath our noses. Many of us automatically turn to focus on the perpetrator and determinedly tear the person apart and anyway, all this makes for good conversation fodder.

We can also choose to look at ourselves when something happens.

It is sad and unfortunate that our attention has been captured by such an extreme act - but undeniably that's what it has done. But we can still take that one step further and match our outrage with an equal effort otherwise wouldn’t that reveal us as being hypocritical bystanders? (let’s be honest, surely banging on the keys to sign the online petition which takes a few minutes was only equal to a fraction of the outrage each person felt) Surely this can be taken one step further into each of our own immediate realities.

Is the Heart of the Matter the issue about the prevention of cruelty to animals?

If there’s one thing working in crisis management in the past has taught me, it’s “Every problem is an opportunity in disguise”- there’s still some good that can come out of this negative situation.

I wonder if the people who are moved, saddened, outraged would DO SOMETHING NOW, CONTRIBUTE SOMETHING themselves, personally towards the prevention of animal cruelty. It’s about making the effort/contribution equal to one’s response to this artist's unacceptable act, more than simply tapping the keys at the computer to sign the petition. There is a lot or a little anyone can do, and it all makes a difference in another day of a dog's life when it is struggling.

I wonder if anyone would call an animal shelter or animal rescue group where they live and ask what they could do to help. One hour, one meal, one walk, one monetary gift, one visit to pet them- for a dog or cat, makes a difference. When animals are abandoned or suffer from cruelty for whatever reason, they live on the edge day by day and I have seen and felt how every little thing makes a difference.

So what is the Heart of The Matter?

I wondered about the people who visited the exhibition and saw the dog for themselves. I couldn’t find any account of someone trying to free the dog or feed the dog. Had anyone of us been at that exhibition- saddened, outraged, shocked, repulsed- what would we have done?

Is this not an equal if not bigger outrage that many people came and saw and left. I can imagine many went home disturbed and to cry. Which reminds me of another incident.

Several months back when we were at a busy pub enjoying a good day, a tiny stray kitten wandering in from a nearby gutter with its sibling and was accidentally trodden to death underfoot by an innocent patron. While it convulsed and bled, several women who saw it happen jumped up in horror and another started crying hysterically. This hysteria went on for awhile and the other patrons’ attention naturally shifted in that direction. The woman had to be consoled by several people and eventually left, obviously too distraught to continue her evening plans. I have no doubt it was a disturbing experience for her as it was for many of us. When things happen we struggle with many aspects- how easily it seems to distract us from the Heart of The Matter. It seemed all about her- what about the kittens?

We picked up the other tiny kitten wandering lost and crying, disturbed by the commotion. Cuddling it was probably the therapy we all needed. We spoke to the staff at the pub and were told that the kittens lived with their mother in the gutter and often wandered into the pub. After some discussion with the boss of the pub and kind staff member, they agreed to provide the kitten a box for safety and to keep it in the back lane away from the busy pub front, in hope that the mother would find her kitten later.

7 months ago when I started feeding the emaciated street dog Fa and she was possibly more emaciated than the dog at this particular artist’s “show”.

Fa 7 months ago, emaciated and roaming the streets

the street dog "exhibited" by the artist

visitors to the artist's "show"

She was starving, roaming a well-known shopping and eateries area which has one of the highest vehicular and human traffic in the city. I didn’t see anybody stop to give her a second look. I didn’t see anybody give her something to eat. I didn’t see anybody outraged, saddened or moved. Mostly they moved away quickly. If not, she did.

What would we do if we came across Fa or the dog at the exhibition on the street, starving as it were? Yes, we don’t like what this artist has done. Would we like what we had not done too?

Last night on my walk back from dinner on this same very busy street especially since it was also a Friday night, I saw up ahead an old, apparently homeless man lying on the sidewalk in drunken stupor. He had been there hours earlier in exactly the same position when I had gone out to get something from the pharmacy. A young man came along, seeming not to be of any relation to the old man sleeping on the sidewalk, and started shouting at him and kicking him in the back several times. Others kept their distance and watched in silence. Another elderly man passing by said “Enough, that’s enough!” to the young man upon which the young man just walked off. I stopped just by them, stunned by the needless violence which had all taken place within seconds. In a silent voice, I’m still asking myself, what I would have done if someone else had not put a stop to this unnecessary hurt.

This time I was spared the answer. I walked home saddened at being a witness and saddened that there are truths to be faced about who we are, ourselves.