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Shape of a Pocket by Jacqueline Ann Surin

ALL I wanted to do last Saturday was go for a facial, catch friends over coffee and sleep through the grey afternoon.

All made nearly impossible because of a rally in town organised by some coalition known as Bersih that called for thousands of Malaysians to take to the streets.

And so, despite wanting to enjoy my well-earned day off, my plans were going to be scuttled by a group intent on gathering on a very wet Saturday to deliver some memorandum to the King.

The group apparently had some disenchantment with the way general elections are conducted in Malaysia and wanted to raise their concerns to the monarch. No mention was made about whether the King also wanted his Saturday off, and whether that should be respected.

In any case, I was told I had to work, and being a mere civilian, had less room to negotiate how my Saturday would be spent. “Go check out what happens,” my editor said. Hard to say, “No, I’d rather sleep the day off. Why are you making me do this?” when it’s the boss and year-end bonuses are in the pipeline.

But I decided I wasn’t giving up on my facial even if I had to cover some rally. Some semblance of my Saturday had to be defended if I wasn’t going to feel terribly cheated of my day off by a group whose acronym could be mistaken for a Clean Toilet campaign.

And so, there I was at 10.30am, trying to get to Bangsar, and almost being foiled by the jam.

As I was cutting through Universiti Malaya to escape the result of numerous police road blocks that attempted to thwart demonstrators from entering the city, I wasn’t sure just who to cuss at.

“Where are you?” a friend called. “I heard the jam is really bad. Why don’t you park at my house and I’ll drive you to the LRT station?” He, of course, wasn’t going to the rally. He had an art studio gallery business to run, rally or no rally.

It was too late to take up his offer so I kept driving and eventually arrived at my beautician’s, apologetically late. “There have been road blocks since yesterday, even at interstate highways, because of today’s rally,” I grumbled. Later, the train stations at Central Market and Masjid Jamek would be shut as well.

Vin obviously wasn’t going to the rally either. She had stressed-out clients like me to soothe and beautify and a family to care for on a Saturday.

“Alright then, for today, I’ll use juniper berry, frankincense, lavender, ylang-ylang, marjoram and orange to keep you calm and cleanse your aura,” she said, after registering that I had to dash off to cover a potentially messy rally after my facial. Thankfully, I fell asleep. My Saturday wasn’t turning out too badly after all.

Vin had other plans for me when I awoke. “Why don’t you have lunch with my family and me? That way you won’t have to go to the rally hungry.”

The home-cooked pasta was an unexpected treat for a Saturday I had been dreading. But that wasn’t all. Freshly baked bread with pumpkin seeds was packed for me to take away, just in case.

By the time I got to the Bangsar LRT station, I was all energised, and might even have felt thankful for the rally that resulted in Vin’s extra-special pampering.

As I got on the train, a colleague SMSed. “At Selangor Club. Come join us if you need refuge.” I had to sigh with relief. A stiff drink is always the right panacea for having to deal with the enthusiastic masses, police trucks, FRU batons and the constant sting of tear gas in the air.

Another SMS got to me as I alighted at Masjid Jamek and the rain came down in sheets. “T-shirts and towel in my car.” My other colleague had errands to run with
her mum, and wasn’t at the rally. But she was keeping tabs, anyway, as were others who were glued to their phones, the TV and Internet.

It was good to know there were dry clothes waiting if I got drenched by either rain or the chemical-laced water the police was shooting to disperse the sea of yellow protesters.

Towards the late afternoon, by the time the rally began to disperse at the Istana Negara, where I ended up walking to, the lawyers on duty finally removed their stuffy suits and ties.

“You alright?” a friend rang to check. “I was going to go but had prayers at my mother’s,” she said, adding that a prayer was lifted for a peaceful rally, nonetheless.

“Going to Central Market for coffee,” another friend SMSed. Wet, tired and with blistered feet, I headed towards them.

And in a chic kopi tiam, over hot coffee, we shared pumpkin seed bread and stories of the rally.

Jacqueline Ann Surin is thankful that despite the odds on Nov 10, she still managed to have a facial, a snooze and coffee with friends. An assistant news editor at theSun, she is hopeful she has earned her yearend bonus.

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