By Siti Nurbaiyah Nadzmi
KUALA LUMPUR: The first consignment of Harumanis, a premium mango cultivar grown in Perlis, will arrive in Japan today, making it the first Malaysian fruit to break into Japan's imported fresh fruit market.
This will coincide with the arrival of Prime Minister Datuk Seri Najib Razak, his first visit to Japan since taking office as prime minister a year ago.
Japanese Ambassador to Malaysia Masahiko Horie described both events as significant and historic.
He said there would be another four consignments of Harumanis on April 21, 25 and 28, weighing a total of 3.05 tonnes.
Horie said a plant quarantine officer was based at the Malaysian Agricultural Research and Development Institute (Mardi) laboratory in Serdang to observe the treatment process before the mangoes were packed and flown from Kuala Lumpur International Airport.
"We are confident that Harumanis will be accepted by Japanese consumers going by the non-fibrous texture, sweetness, flavour and fragrance," Horie told the New Sunday Times.
The fruits were harvested from the Perlis Agriculture Department's orchard in Bukit Bintang, Kangar. Strict import protocols required that the mangoes undergo vapour heat treatment to eliminate fruit fly larvae.
Premium Harumanis weighs about 350gm per fruit and is packed into 5kg boxes.
Horie said the sole importer and distributor had drawn up a marketing strategy to introduce Harumanis to the Japanese through restaurants and specialised supermarkets.
"Mangoes imported from other parts of the world, especially Thailand, Mexico and the Philippines, are usually available all year round but Harumanis from Perlis is seasonal, making it a rare delicacy."
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Still waiting for real change
By Siti Nurbaiyah Nadzmi
The public transport system runs right through the heart of the constituency -- the north and south are linked by the railway line from Rawang to Bukit Mertajam and the federal road from Serendah and Batang Kali to Tanjung Malim. The North South Expressway is the latest addition.
Really, it should be bustling with economic activities.
But unlike the neighbouring agro-based, industry-rich Kuala Selangor district, or the highly-developed Gombak district, Hulu Selangor has remained true to its name -- "hulu" which is the interior, the forsaken.
Hulu Selangor fell prey to property speculators who could not stay afloat after the 1997 Asian financial crisis hit home. Homeowners in Bukit Sentosa, Bukit Beruntung and Bandar Sungai Buaya were left fighting for basic amenities -- from regular bus services to burial grounds. There is still no government clinic here.
As life picked up pace over the decades -- and spanning three general elections -- telephone land lines and mobile phone coverage improved, water and electricity supply became more reliable, bus services were more frequent and more houses were occupied. The townships of Bukit Beruntung and Bukit Sentosa are today liveable. Sadly, the same cannot be said about Bandar Sungai Buaya, where I came to stay in 1999.
Bandar Sungai Buaya was picture perfect. In the morning, mist hung over the township and birds chirped. And, the fresh air.
It was designed to complement the natural landscape, but the 15-year integrated township masterplan could not be completed as planned. Or home owners here would have enjoyed high property value, a clubhouse complete with man-made lake and recreational centres, business centres, colleges and an interchange that would have reduced travelling time to Kuala Lumpur to just 20 minutes.
Call it bad investment, but the victims were not just the house buyers. The Felda Sungai Buaya settlers who sold their land to the developer, Bandar Sungai Buaya Sdn Bhd, were only paid a fraction of their million-ringgit plots of land. Last year, the developer was liquidated.
In the 1999 general election, I bumped into a candidate doing his rounds at the wet market. With fish and vegetables in one hand and a cranky toddler on my hip, I asked him if he could make a change. He huffed and puffed and wiped the sweat off his brow, buying time to give me a non-committal reply, pregnant with rhetoric.
I missed casting my vote here in 2008, but nothing much changed until lately, when Plus Expressway Bhd announced the construction of the Sungai Buaya interchange early next year.
AS a registered voter in Hulu Selangor, I am looking forward to an interesting week. It is when the constituency comes alive with VIP visits, official openings and launchings, kenduris and, more importantly, the potholes are covered.
For the upcoming by-election, traffic lights have sprouted overnight at the Prima Beruntung-Bukit Sentosa and the Kampung Koskan-Sungai Choh junctions. The residents in both areas had been petitioning for traffic light junctions for ages.
Meanwhile, the Sungai Choh-Serendah junction, an important pre-war link that connects the southern part of the peninsula to the north, has been resurfaced, making it a joy to drive on.
I soak in the effervescence.
The traffic light marks the entranceway to the Hulu Selangor parliamentary constituency. Just 50km from the Kuala Lumpur city centre, this is the dull backwater of Selangor.
Hulu Selangor has several industrial areas and is home to two automotive plants, Tan Chong Motors and Perodua.
Meanwhile, the Sungai Choh-Serendah junction, an important pre-war link that connects the southern part of the peninsula to the north, has been resurfaced, making it a joy to drive on.
I soak in the effervescence.
The traffic light marks the entranceway to the Hulu Selangor parliamentary constituency. Just 50km from the Kuala Lumpur city centre, this is the dull backwater of Selangor.
Hulu Selangor has several industrial areas and is home to two automotive plants, Tan Chong Motors and Perodua.
Really, it should be bustling with economic activities.
But unlike the neighbouring agro-based, industry-rich Kuala Selangor district, or the highly-developed Gombak district, Hulu Selangor has remained true to its name -- "hulu" which is the interior, the forsaken.
Hulu Selangor fell prey to property speculators who could not stay afloat after the 1997 Asian financial crisis hit home. Homeowners in Bukit Sentosa, Bukit Beruntung and Bandar Sungai Buaya were left fighting for basic amenities -- from regular bus services to burial grounds. There is still no government clinic here.
As life picked up pace over the decades -- and spanning three general elections -- telephone land lines and mobile phone coverage improved, water and electricity supply became more reliable, bus services were more frequent and more houses were occupied. The townships of Bukit Beruntung and Bukit Sentosa are today liveable. Sadly, the same cannot be said about Bandar Sungai Buaya, where I came to stay in 1999.
Bandar Sungai Buaya was picture perfect. In the morning, mist hung over the township and birds chirped. And, the fresh air.
It was designed to complement the natural landscape, but the 15-year integrated township masterplan could not be completed as planned. Or home owners here would have enjoyed high property value, a clubhouse complete with man-made lake and recreational centres, business centres, colleges and an interchange that would have reduced travelling time to Kuala Lumpur to just 20 minutes.
Call it bad investment, but the victims were not just the house buyers. The Felda Sungai Buaya settlers who sold their land to the developer, Bandar Sungai Buaya Sdn Bhd, were only paid a fraction of their million-ringgit plots of land. Last year, the developer was liquidated.
In the 1999 general election, I bumped into a candidate doing his rounds at the wet market. With fish and vegetables in one hand and a cranky toddler on my hip, I asked him if he could make a change. He huffed and puffed and wiped the sweat off his brow, buying time to give me a non-committal reply, pregnant with rhetoric.
I missed casting my vote here in 2008, but nothing much changed until lately, when Plus Expressway Bhd announced the construction of the Sungai Buaya interchange early next year.
The interchange is palliative. It does not magically wave away the pain and loss of 14 years of development. No one can turn back time, but even the slightest change offers a ray of hope to us here.
So, when I meet him again, I will ask, "Dear Mr Candidate, will there be change?"
And he has two years to make it work before the general election.
So, when I meet him again, I will ask, "Dear Mr Candidate, will there be change?"
And he has two years to make it work before the general election.
Friday, April 9, 2010
It took a builder's unkept promise to break her
A voter in Hulu Selangor was a toddler during the Great Depression of 1929, the significance of which escapes her to this day. She survived World War 2 and went on to become an activist battling the Malay Union. After Merdeka, she was part of the successful Felda revolution. In the end, it was the 1997-98 Asian financial crisis that foiled her hopes. SITI NURBAIYAH NADZMI reports.
AS a fearless activist, Timah Ali, 84, walked for eight days from Padang Kota Lama, Penang to Kuala Lumpur in 1946 to protest against the Malayan Union. Now, hunched but still feisty, all she wants is the land issue in Felda Sungai Buaya to be resolved.
Timah is one of the 363 settlers caught in a complex land issue after the developer could not compensate them in exchange for their land titles in 1994. The Asian financial crisis of 1997-98 shattered their dreams.
The story of Felda Sungai Buaya started in 1965, when the 363 settlers built their lives around planting rubber trees on about 1,000ha of land, 18km from Rawang.
In 1994, they signed an agreement for the land to be developed. In return they were to receive compensation according to the size of their land, some plots were worth up to RM1.3 million.
The 15-year integrated township development plan in Bandar Sungai Buaya was halted following the financial crisis in 1997.
The 1,500-acre leasehold project was developed by Land and General, a wholly owned subsidiary of Bandar Sungai Buaya Sdn Bhd, which went under liquidation last year.
In 1997, the developer completed and handed over 3,000 homes. Located off the North-South Expressway between Rawang and Bukit Beruntung, the township is accessible via Jalan Sungai Choh from Rawang or the Bukit Beruntung interchange.
It was heartbreaking for Timah and other settlers who lost their land and for some, their means of income. Timah said the settlers received the first payment of RM5,000 in 1994 when they signed the agreement. The payments then trickled to RM2,000 monthly, then dwindled to RM1,000 before it stopped completely in 2001.
"There were no more rubber trees for us to tap or land for us to grow crops, so we have no income. Most of us are just too old to work, anyway. There is nothing to do but hope that our children will take us in," she said as her eyes glistened.
Timah said many of her contemporaries were ill because of old age. Some had died.
She said many of the settlers later were offered unsold housing units in lieu of cash, but the value of the house was only a fraction of the land value in the original agreement.
"We took the offer rather than have nothing at all," said Timah who now lives in Bandar Sungai Buaya.
Today, the Felda is reduced to a cluster of houses in a village called Kampung Sungai Buaya.
AS a fearless activist, Timah Ali, 84, walked for eight days from Padang Kota Lama, Penang to Kuala Lumpur in 1946 to protest against the Malayan Union. Now, hunched but still feisty, all she wants is the land issue in Felda Sungai Buaya to be resolved.
Timah is one of the 363 settlers caught in a complex land issue after the developer could not compensate them in exchange for their land titles in 1994. The Asian financial crisis of 1997-98 shattered their dreams.
The story of Felda Sungai Buaya started in 1965, when the 363 settlers built their lives around planting rubber trees on about 1,000ha of land, 18km from Rawang.
In 1994, they signed an agreement for the land to be developed. In return they were to receive compensation according to the size of their land, some plots were worth up to RM1.3 million.
The 15-year integrated township development plan in Bandar Sungai Buaya was halted following the financial crisis in 1997.
The 1,500-acre leasehold project was developed by Land and General, a wholly owned subsidiary of Bandar Sungai Buaya Sdn Bhd, which went under liquidation last year.
In 1997, the developer completed and handed over 3,000 homes. Located off the North-South Expressway between Rawang and Bukit Beruntung, the township is accessible via Jalan Sungai Choh from Rawang or the Bukit Beruntung interchange.
It was heartbreaking for Timah and other settlers who lost their land and for some, their means of income. Timah said the settlers received the first payment of RM5,000 in 1994 when they signed the agreement. The payments then trickled to RM2,000 monthly, then dwindled to RM1,000 before it stopped completely in 2001.
"There were no more rubber trees for us to tap or land for us to grow crops, so we have no income. Most of us are just too old to work, anyway. There is nothing to do but hope that our children will take us in," she said as her eyes glistened.
Timah said many of her contemporaries were ill because of old age. Some had died.
She said many of the settlers later were offered unsold housing units in lieu of cash, but the value of the house was only a fraction of the land value in the original agreement.
"We took the offer rather than have nothing at all," said Timah who now lives in Bandar Sungai Buaya.
Today, the Felda is reduced to a cluster of houses in a village called Kampung Sungai Buaya.
New Straits Times, April 9, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
The award
It was a fun evening, but I chose to be absent in respect of the recent demise of my uncle just two days prior to the event.
The NST Annual Dinner, themed as movie mania, have colleagues arriving as Darth Vaders, Princess Leia, Shrek, Hellboy, Helen of Troy, Queen Amidala, Cleopatra, Count Dracula and Morticia Addams, while the less imaginative prefer to be Men in Black.
During the dinner, a colleague sent a text message:
“Congrats! U guys won the Best Feature!”
He was referring to the history package a team of us worked on last year. Alhamdulillah! Wow.
The story was written by four of us from a disbanded desk called the writer’s group. Chok Suat Ling is now the Sunday Times Editor, Sheridan Mahavera has left the company in search of new adventures as a freelance writer and Yong Huey Jiun, has left the country for an even bigger adventure.
The award, I feel is an important token of the group.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
“Like a one hit wonder to a defunct pop band?” asks Mr D, as the credit of SpongeBob Squarepants the series rolled on TV.
I rolled my eyes.
“Do you think I should write a book? Maybe something on Mariam?”
Mr D shut his eyes and rolled his head on the sofa backrest in dire pretense of being asleep.
Some answers don’t come in sentences.
The NST Annual Dinner, themed as movie mania, have colleagues arriving as Darth Vaders, Princess Leia, Shrek, Hellboy, Helen of Troy, Queen Amidala, Cleopatra, Count Dracula and Morticia Addams, while the less imaginative prefer to be Men in Black.
During the dinner, a colleague sent a text message:
“Congrats! U guys won the Best Feature!”
He was referring to the history package a team of us worked on last year. Alhamdulillah! Wow.
The story was written by four of us from a disbanded desk called the writer’s group. Chok Suat Ling is now the Sunday Times Editor, Sheridan Mahavera has left the company in search of new adventures as a freelance writer and Yong Huey Jiun, has left the country for an even bigger adventure.
The award, I feel is an important token of the group.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
“Like a one hit wonder to a defunct pop band?” asks Mr D, as the credit of SpongeBob Squarepants the series rolled on TV.
I rolled my eyes.
“Do you think I should write a book? Maybe something on Mariam?”
Mr D shut his eyes and rolled his head on the sofa backrest in dire pretense of being asleep.
Some answers don’t come in sentences.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Nam Ron carries on stronger
Celebrated thespian Nam Ron is adamant that the production house he co-founded will succeed, writes SITI NURBAIYAH NADZMI
THE banning of Tanda by Aswara (National Arts, Culture and Heritage Academy), had turned playwright and artistic director Shahili Abdan into the bad boy of Malay theatre overnight. And Shahili, better known as Nam Ron in the thespian circle, was perplexed with the issue.
The play, produced by Rumah Anak Teater (RAT), was a collaborative work of five directors, 40-member crew and 20 actors. The directors were Amar Asyraf Zailuddin, Khairunadzwan Rodzy, Yusman Mokhtar, Siti Aishah Hassan Hasri and Mohd Farid Jamaluddin.
It opened last month at Experimental Theatre Aswara to rave reviews but at about 5pm on the fourth night, the crew was ordered to vacate the hall.
Nam Ron, a theatre lecturer at the academy, was told that he had not complied with the rules of staging a play at the hall.
According to him, when they applied for permission to use the hall, they were not informed of any additional regulations. They had the permit to use the hall for the staging of the play.
“But it was only on the fourth day that we received orders to vacate the hall.”
He said there were neither letters nor an explanation given, except for the security personnel barring them from using the premises.
Nam Ron says they had bookings from two colleges, one in Kuantan and in Johor. And when told to clear out their props, they immediately telephoned the colleges to inform them that the show was cancelled. But one group had already arrived in Kuala Lumpur.
To make up for long-distance trip, Nam Ron held a brief workshop in the hall while the crew and actors were dismantling the props. It was a stark irony off the stage, to say the least.
“We were devastated,” Nam Ron says. And the Kuala Perlis-born quit teaching at the academy after a decade to nosedive into the no-profit career of the Malay theatre.
Tanda was one of the class theatre projects produced by his students three years ago but RAT expanded the idea into a full play.
The five directors collaborated to work on five segments in the play on the signs of Judgement Day. Most of those involved in the play — directors, crew, actors and musicians — were Aswara graduates and undergraduates.
It is hard to imagine that an academy would deny the creative work of its own people at its own venue especially, after it had crowned Nam Ron Excellent Theatre Graduate in 2007.
Nam Ron has had enough.
Cutting all strings, he is determined for RAT, a production house he co-founded with some of his former students, to succeed. Tanda opened at PJ Live Arts Centre (PJLA) and ran for five nights, three weeks after Aswara shut it down.
“We had to make some changes to the props and choreography to adapt to the smaller stage,” says Nam Ron.
“The original hall had a hydraulic facility, which allowed the stage to be split, but this could not be done at PJLA. Previously the split stage symbolised the end of the world, but this was not possible at the new venue, so we have to improvise using body movements to create the impact. Otherwise, the entire play remained,” he says.
The controversy had given Tanda publicity. For the first time, RAT had a full house. “It feels great, and it gives us an incentive to work harder,” Nam Ron says.
Nam Ron’s interest in theatre began in 1989 when he joined Grup Teater Aksi in Kangar as an actor. By then he was already known as Nam Ron (which means “hot water” in Thai).
“I was an apprentice at a MARA vocational programme when the seniors asked me if I knew any Thai words since I came from Kuala Perlis. The only words that came to mind was “nam ron”. The name stuck with me.”
It was not, however, a unique name. Renowned cartoonist Idris Man from Kedah had adopted the same name but as one word “Namron”.
A trained auto mechanic, Nam Ron felt a calling to the proscenium, so he enrolled as a theatre student with Akademi Seni Kebangsaan (ASK) in 1994 and graduated four years later. ASK had opened doors to him and there was no turning back.
After graduation Nam Ron formed Alternative Teater, based in Kuala Lumpur, which helped carve his name in the arts scene as a young theatre director, playwright and actor.
At the same time, the Drama Department at Aswara, in recognition of his energy in the theatre scene, offered him a part-time lecturer’s post at the Experimental Theatre.
Nam Ron joined the Asian Contemporary Theatre Practice workshop organised by Setagya Public Theatre Japan and Japan Foundation, and is now a member of Lohan Journey (a group of Asian directors and playwrights) which collaborates theatre in major cities in Asia.
The experience has greatly influenced Nam Ron’s later works such as monodrama Matderihkoloperlih, Laut Lebih Indah Dari Bulan and the satire Lembu, but more importantly he began to dabble in collaborative work.
In October 2008, he co-founded RAT with nine ASWARA graduates and it had since produced collaboration works to rave reviews.
It was obvious that he loved working with young talents and they revered his easy ways, creativity and imagination. He helped to lift taboos as well.
For example, if a character had to smoke on stage then it was allowed. But then again, if anyone dared to tread on the thin lines they had to be brave enough to face the consequences, saysNam Ron.
Word has it that the unofficial reason for the banning of Tanda was that it had an inappropriate scene: where 20 fully-clothed actors imitated sexual moves under undimmed lighting, albeit for 30 seconds.
“It wasn’t gratuitous. The scene was meant to evoke disgust not lust. Maybe it did trigger disgust in some people that they had to resort to the authorities to stop the show,” says Nam Ron.
What truly runs in Nam Ron’s veins are the late Datuk Krishen Jit’s ideals of being independent.
“Krishen impressed upon us not to give up when there was no money. It was not easy to live up to his words – getting sponsors and grants from government agencies and organisations can be an impossible task.”
Arts patrons are hard to come by and funding is an age-old problem with Malay theatre
RAT has named its long-term project as Projek Komuniti Kental (KoKen), loosely translated as “resilient community project”. It outlined the entire year’s activity such as workshops, talks, acting classes and new plays. Last year KoKen staged compilation plays, where a few were staged together, but this year it will stage individual works separately.
“It is usually a sparse set with actors, but along the way we will look for funding,” says Nam Ron.
THE banning of Tanda by Aswara (National Arts, Culture and Heritage Academy), had turned playwright and artistic director Shahili Abdan into the bad boy of Malay theatre overnight. And Shahili, better known as Nam Ron in the thespian circle, was perplexed with the issue.
The play, produced by Rumah Anak Teater (RAT), was a collaborative work of five directors, 40-member crew and 20 actors. The directors were Amar Asyraf Zailuddin, Khairunadzwan Rodzy, Yusman Mokhtar, Siti Aishah Hassan Hasri and Mohd Farid Jamaluddin.
It opened last month at Experimental Theatre Aswara to rave reviews but at about 5pm on the fourth night, the crew was ordered to vacate the hall.
Nam Ron, a theatre lecturer at the academy, was told that he had not complied with the rules of staging a play at the hall.
According to him, when they applied for permission to use the hall, they were not informed of any additional regulations. They had the permit to use the hall for the staging of the play.
“But it was only on the fourth day that we received orders to vacate the hall.”
He said there were neither letters nor an explanation given, except for the security personnel barring them from using the premises.
Nam Ron says they had bookings from two colleges, one in Kuantan and in Johor. And when told to clear out their props, they immediately telephoned the colleges to inform them that the show was cancelled. But one group had already arrived in Kuala Lumpur.
To make up for long-distance trip, Nam Ron held a brief workshop in the hall while the crew and actors were dismantling the props. It was a stark irony off the stage, to say the least.
“We were devastated,” Nam Ron says. And the Kuala Perlis-born quit teaching at the academy after a decade to nosedive into the no-profit career of the Malay theatre.
Tanda was one of the class theatre projects produced by his students three years ago but RAT expanded the idea into a full play.
The five directors collaborated to work on five segments in the play on the signs of Judgement Day. Most of those involved in the play — directors, crew, actors and musicians — were Aswara graduates and undergraduates.
It is hard to imagine that an academy would deny the creative work of its own people at its own venue especially, after it had crowned Nam Ron Excellent Theatre Graduate in 2007.
Nam Ron has had enough.
Cutting all strings, he is determined for RAT, a production house he co-founded with some of his former students, to succeed. Tanda opened at PJ Live Arts Centre (PJLA) and ran for five nights, three weeks after Aswara shut it down.
“We had to make some changes to the props and choreography to adapt to the smaller stage,” says Nam Ron.
“The original hall had a hydraulic facility, which allowed the stage to be split, but this could not be done at PJLA. Previously the split stage symbolised the end of the world, but this was not possible at the new venue, so we have to improvise using body movements to create the impact. Otherwise, the entire play remained,” he says.
The controversy had given Tanda publicity. For the first time, RAT had a full house. “It feels great, and it gives us an incentive to work harder,” Nam Ron says.
Nam Ron’s interest in theatre began in 1989 when he joined Grup Teater Aksi in Kangar as an actor. By then he was already known as Nam Ron (which means “hot water” in Thai).
“I was an apprentice at a MARA vocational programme when the seniors asked me if I knew any Thai words since I came from Kuala Perlis. The only words that came to mind was “nam ron”. The name stuck with me.”
It was not, however, a unique name. Renowned cartoonist Idris Man from Kedah had adopted the same name but as one word “Namron”.
A trained auto mechanic, Nam Ron felt a calling to the proscenium, so he enrolled as a theatre student with Akademi Seni Kebangsaan (ASK) in 1994 and graduated four years later. ASK had opened doors to him and there was no turning back.
After graduation Nam Ron formed Alternative Teater, based in Kuala Lumpur, which helped carve his name in the arts scene as a young theatre director, playwright and actor.
At the same time, the Drama Department at Aswara, in recognition of his energy in the theatre scene, offered him a part-time lecturer’s post at the Experimental Theatre.
Nam Ron joined the Asian Contemporary Theatre Practice workshop organised by Setagya Public Theatre Japan and Japan Foundation, and is now a member of Lohan Journey (a group of Asian directors and playwrights) which collaborates theatre in major cities in Asia.
The experience has greatly influenced Nam Ron’s later works such as monodrama Matderihkoloperlih, Laut Lebih Indah Dari Bulan and the satire Lembu, but more importantly he began to dabble in collaborative work.
In October 2008, he co-founded RAT with nine ASWARA graduates and it had since produced collaboration works to rave reviews.
It was obvious that he loved working with young talents and they revered his easy ways, creativity and imagination. He helped to lift taboos as well.
For example, if a character had to smoke on stage then it was allowed. But then again, if anyone dared to tread on the thin lines they had to be brave enough to face the consequences, saysNam Ron.
Word has it that the unofficial reason for the banning of Tanda was that it had an inappropriate scene: where 20 fully-clothed actors imitated sexual moves under undimmed lighting, albeit for 30 seconds.
“It wasn’t gratuitous. The scene was meant to evoke disgust not lust. Maybe it did trigger disgust in some people that they had to resort to the authorities to stop the show,” says Nam Ron.
What truly runs in Nam Ron’s veins are the late Datuk Krishen Jit’s ideals of being independent.
“Krishen impressed upon us not to give up when there was no money. It was not easy to live up to his words – getting sponsors and grants from government agencies and organisations can be an impossible task.”
Arts patrons are hard to come by and funding is an age-old problem with Malay theatre
RAT has named its long-term project as Projek Komuniti Kental (KoKen), loosely translated as “resilient community project”. It outlined the entire year’s activity such as workshops, talks, acting classes and new plays. Last year KoKen staged compilation plays, where a few were staged together, but this year it will stage individual works separately.
“It is usually a sparse set with actors, but along the way we will look for funding,” says Nam Ron.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The Sign a.k.a. Tanda
Teater Tanda was banned by ASWARA because it had a sex scene.
Produced by Rumah Anak Teater, the play is a collaboration of five directors, with a crew of 40, and a cast of 20, who mostly are the students and former students of the academy; and the artistic director is Nam Ron, a lecturer at the same academy.
The play, scheduled to be staged from Feb 2-7, was previewed by the academy staff prior to approval, yet on the second night of the show the crew was asked to clear out their props and the show was shut down. Nam Ron, after his appeal was rejected, quit his post.
Aswara got their wish at the cost of an academic staff, a loss they would absorb.
The play, reportedly, contained a 30-second sex orgy scene. Seriously? I asked a friend.
“Teater Malaysia mana ada sex scene!” he replied.
Have you seen it?
“Yes, on the opening night. It was just a half a minute choreography. Tak de apa-apa pun,” said my friend, who was a director with a few controversies himself. His last work had a band of religious officers coming over to chat.
Then why ban?
He sighed. “I don't know.”
Surely ASWARA gave a reason.
My friend was a tired man, he sighed again. “They said Nam Ron failed to comply with the procedures.”
But they could have stopped the show before opening night right?
The director friend, no longer had the energy to amuse me. “Tak tau la. Belum jumpa Nam Ron lagi.”
The ground at Jalan Tun Ismail, where ASWARA is located now, is sacred. Decades before ASWARA was built, it had seen the works of many great playwrights at what was then called ET, the Experimental Theatre. In the mid-Nineties, the Malay theatre reached fever pitch. There was always something playing somewhere at Panggung Bandaraya, Matic and Auditorium DBKL. KL folk were spoilt with cheap tickets for fabulous shows on weekends.
ET defined 'experimental' Malay theatre. It allowed directors to dwell into social issues and hurl discomfort at the audience, regardless of their social standings. If you were a politician, a civil servant, an industry captain or anyone right down to kaki lepak, be prepared to be stung. Perhaps that was why it was popular. People, the likes of you and me, could relate to the plays.
The banning of Tanda feels like the sacred ground has been desecrated. The show, according to ASWARA, must not go on, but RAT thought otherwise. It opens tonight at PJLA, and plays until Sunday.
Over the phone, Nam Ron sounded calm and collected. “Alhamdulillah, sihat,” he replied my greetings.
How do you feel about the whole episode?
He laughed. “I have moved on.
........
The stray cat meowed louder. Mr D pulled out a packet of cat food from the pantry and turmed towards me saying: “Fared Ayam.”
The crackling plastic pack drove the stray cat into a frenzy but Mr D took his time looking for a pair of scissors in the drawer.
“Who?”
He couldn't find the scissors. The stray cat meowed louder almost standing on his hind legs. Mr D ripped the bag.
“Fared is one of the directors in Tanda.” He poured the biscuits into a chipped bowl and the cat dived in. The meowing stopped instantly. The cat food label said protein enriched chicken flavoured biscuits.
Produced by Rumah Anak Teater, the play is a collaboration of five directors, with a crew of 40, and a cast of 20, who mostly are the students and former students of the academy; and the artistic director is Nam Ron, a lecturer at the same academy.
The play, scheduled to be staged from Feb 2-7, was previewed by the academy staff prior to approval, yet on the second night of the show the crew was asked to clear out their props and the show was shut down. Nam Ron, after his appeal was rejected, quit his post.
Aswara got their wish at the cost of an academic staff, a loss they would absorb.
The play, reportedly, contained a 30-second sex orgy scene. Seriously? I asked a friend.
“Teater Malaysia mana ada sex scene!” he replied.
Have you seen it?
“Yes, on the opening night. It was just a half a minute choreography. Tak de apa-apa pun,” said my friend, who was a director with a few controversies himself. His last work had a band of religious officers coming over to chat.
Then why ban?
He sighed. “I don't know.”
Surely ASWARA gave a reason.
My friend was a tired man, he sighed again. “They said Nam Ron failed to comply with the procedures.”
But they could have stopped the show before opening night right?
The director friend, no longer had the energy to amuse me. “Tak tau la. Belum jumpa Nam Ron lagi.”
The ground at Jalan Tun Ismail, where ASWARA is located now, is sacred. Decades before ASWARA was built, it had seen the works of many great playwrights at what was then called ET, the Experimental Theatre. In the mid-Nineties, the Malay theatre reached fever pitch. There was always something playing somewhere at Panggung Bandaraya, Matic and Auditorium DBKL. KL folk were spoilt with cheap tickets for fabulous shows on weekends.
ET defined 'experimental' Malay theatre. It allowed directors to dwell into social issues and hurl discomfort at the audience, regardless of their social standings. If you were a politician, a civil servant, an industry captain or anyone right down to kaki lepak, be prepared to be stung. Perhaps that was why it was popular. People, the likes of you and me, could relate to the plays.
The banning of Tanda feels like the sacred ground has been desecrated. The show, according to ASWARA, must not go on, but RAT thought otherwise. It opens tonight at PJLA, and plays until Sunday.
Over the phone, Nam Ron sounded calm and collected. “Alhamdulillah, sihat,” he replied my greetings.
How do you feel about the whole episode?
He laughed. “I have moved on.
........
The stray cat meowed louder. Mr D pulled out a packet of cat food from the pantry and turmed towards me saying: “Fared Ayam.”
The crackling plastic pack drove the stray cat into a frenzy but Mr D took his time looking for a pair of scissors in the drawer.
“Who?”
He couldn't find the scissors. The stray cat meowed louder almost standing on his hind legs. Mr D ripped the bag.
“Fared is one of the directors in Tanda.” He poured the biscuits into a chipped bowl and the cat dived in. The meowing stopped instantly. The cat food label said protein enriched chicken flavoured biscuits.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Veggie Zen
JAPANESE horticulturists are raising perfectly delectable vegetables in a completely controlled environment. SITI NURBAIYAH NADZMI finds out how they do it.
IT is hard to believe that the crisp and flavoursome lettuce, arugula and herbs drizzled with vinaigrette dressing and served at a family restaurant in west Tokyo were grown without sun or soil but in a plant factory in Matsudo City, Chiba Prefecture.
These leafy vegetables, grown in a completely controlled and "stress-free" environment, have created a steady demand among restaurateurs and consumers for the past five years. And the trend is likely to flourish, said horticulturist Shigeharu Shimamura, president and founder of Mirai Company Limited.
These plants are essentially grown hydroponically. Instead of soil, water is used as the medium to provide nutrients to the plant.
But unlike most hydroponic farms, Mirai has replaced the open air and sunlight with fluorescent-lit shelves in air-conditioned rooms.
There are three types of hydroponic cultivation - using the sunlight and open air, a combination of sunlight and artificial lighting in the open air, and in a completely controlled environment with artificial lighting.
"Our company uses the third method which eliminates all stress factors for the plants such as unpredictable weather, inconsistent amount of light, lack of nutrients, wind, fungus and pest infestation," he said.
In a nutshell, the plant factory has industrialised agriculture.
Mirai is also responsible for setting up a plant factory at Japan's Showa base in Antarctica.
"The plant factory allows indoor cultivation in artificial weather by controlling the light, temperature, humidity and nutrients, making extreme climate areas arable enough to produce leafy vegetables and herbs."
Shimamura said the stress factors are the culprits which hamper the growth rate of plants. In a stress-free environment, the plants have the potential to grow faster and with little variation in shapes and sizes.
"Instead of three months, lettuce grown in plant factories can be harvested after only 30 days," he said.
The trick is shortening "night time". Strange as it may sound, Shimamura said, plants recognise the natural day and night cycle.
"It is important to switch off the lights for several hours after a `daylight' condition of about eight to 10 hours, just enough to create the illusion of night time for the plants."
Come "night time", the lights are switched off so that the plants can rest and "wake up" the next day.
The unique selling point for these factory vegetables is that they are so clean and untouched that they are ready to be served immediately after
harvest.
"In such a controlled environment, we do not have to use pesticides. The vegetables are safe to eat without the need to rinse off any chemical residue, bugs or dirt," he said.
Although priced slightly higher than conventionally-cultivated produce, the vegetables are perceived to be high value-added products which are pesticide and fungus free, clean and cost-efficient since they cut down the time and cost of processing. The flawless leaves and standard sizes ensure a tantalising visual presentation on the plate.
"The iceberg round lettuce, for example, wastes about 30-40 per cent of its weight because the outer leaves and the core will be discarded by food operators," Shimamura pointed out. "But the ones that we grow have longer leaves (like the romaine) and the preparation is reduced to twisting the root off and keeping the waste to only three per cent."
More than that, Shimamura said, the look and flavour of these vegetables can be engineered to the clients' specifications by adjusting the amount of nutrients and cultivation techniques.
Shimamura, however, declined to elaborate, saying: "It is a trade secret."
Plant factories allow the impossible such as cultivating seasonal vegetables and herbs throughout the year, tailor-made taste, stable production and land optimisation.
Ozu Industry Corporation, a manufacturer of traditional washi paper since 1653, has turned its unused warehouse into a plant factory last year at Fuchu City, Tokyo, making it the only full-fledged plant factory in the prefecture.
The plant has seven-tier shelves lit by fluorescent bulbs and grows eight types of leafy vegetables and herbs, lettuce, potherb mustard, Italian parsley, watercress, "Mizuna", sweet basil, rocket lettuce and garland chrysanthemum.
After a year of production, the subsidiary company Ozu Corporation's Nihonbashi Yasai head of business development Yuichi Kaneko is confident that it will make a profit in the following year.
"People are more discerning when it comes to food safety and this pushes the demand for pesticide-free vegetables, not just from the consumers, but supermarkets and restaurateurs," he said.
Going back to nature
AT the other end of the spectrum, a young farmer, Yukio Ogawa, 35, is doing away with agrochemicals and getting help from bugs to cultivate healthy vegetables fit for his family.
After graduating in agriculture management, Ogawa worked for two years with a company distributing agricultural machines.
It struck him then that Japanese farmers had become too dependent on agrochemicals, from fertilisers to pesticides, and this practice had increased cost and reduced profitability. Going back to basics, Ogawa is determined to cultivate tasty vegetables as nature intended, leveraging on the concept of "good bugs eat bad bugs". And he created organic fertiliser by using slugs to break down compost for his plants.
He has almost halved his costs while maintaining production at optimum level. The only downside to this farming concept is "imperfect" produce.
Ogawa feels too many chemicals are used in producing perfect-looking carrots, eggplants and cabbages, raising the question of the safe level of chemicals in these vegetables.
"It is true that these agro-chemicals are approved by the Ministry but how much of it is safe for our children? How do we know whether it will have adverse effects later in our lives? I want to be sure that my children are having tasty vegetables grown without the use of chemicals which may be harmful in the long run," he said.
Getting the right bugs to control pest and fungus is downright tedious and takes a lot of patience. Part of Ogawa's daily routine is to run a medical check on the health of his crops by carefully inspecting the leaves, barks and trunk, looking for telltale signs of pest attack or fungus.
Once spotted, he will place predator insects on the affected crops.
The whole concept hinges on the delicate balance of the insect eco-system, where one insect cannot do without another - predator or prey alike.
"At my farm I try to create a harmonious eco-system for the bugs and the plants, so it is essential to keep a variety of bugs and enough food for them, otherwise the bugs will die and the plants will suffer," said the farmer.
Ogawa is confident of the shift in consumption trends as people are becoming more aware of food safety: "My customers don't mind the odd shapes and sizes of the vegetables because they know they are completely free from agro-chemicals."
He sells direct to consumers and retailers from his farms. Local supermarkets carry his Ogawa farm brand, which ensures agro-chemical free cultivation.
IT is hard to believe that the crisp and flavoursome lettuce, arugula and herbs drizzled with vinaigrette dressing and served at a family restaurant in west Tokyo were grown without sun or soil but in a plant factory in Matsudo City, Chiba Prefecture.
These leafy vegetables, grown in a completely controlled and "stress-free" environment, have created a steady demand among restaurateurs and consumers for the past five years. And the trend is likely to flourish, said horticulturist Shigeharu Shimamura, president and founder of Mirai Company Limited.
These plants are essentially grown hydroponically. Instead of soil, water is used as the medium to provide nutrients to the plant.
But unlike most hydroponic farms, Mirai has replaced the open air and sunlight with fluorescent-lit shelves in air-conditioned rooms.
There are three types of hydroponic cultivation - using the sunlight and open air, a combination of sunlight and artificial lighting in the open air, and in a completely controlled environment with artificial lighting.
"Our company uses the third method which eliminates all stress factors for the plants such as unpredictable weather, inconsistent amount of light, lack of nutrients, wind, fungus and pest infestation," he said.
In a nutshell, the plant factory has industrialised agriculture.
Mirai is also responsible for setting up a plant factory at Japan's Showa base in Antarctica.
"The plant factory allows indoor cultivation in artificial weather by controlling the light, temperature, humidity and nutrients, making extreme climate areas arable enough to produce leafy vegetables and herbs."
Shimamura said the stress factors are the culprits which hamper the growth rate of plants. In a stress-free environment, the plants have the potential to grow faster and with little variation in shapes and sizes.
"Instead of three months, lettuce grown in plant factories can be harvested after only 30 days," he said.
The trick is shortening "night time". Strange as it may sound, Shimamura said, plants recognise the natural day and night cycle.
"It is important to switch off the lights for several hours after a `daylight' condition of about eight to 10 hours, just enough to create the illusion of night time for the plants."
Come "night time", the lights are switched off so that the plants can rest and "wake up" the next day.
The unique selling point for these factory vegetables is that they are so clean and untouched that they are ready to be served immediately after
harvest.
"In such a controlled environment, we do not have to use pesticides. The vegetables are safe to eat without the need to rinse off any chemical residue, bugs or dirt," he said.
Although priced slightly higher than conventionally-cultivated produce, the vegetables are perceived to be high value-added products which are pesticide and fungus free, clean and cost-efficient since they cut down the time and cost of processing. The flawless leaves and standard sizes ensure a tantalising visual presentation on the plate.
"The iceberg round lettuce, for example, wastes about 30-40 per cent of its weight because the outer leaves and the core will be discarded by food operators," Shimamura pointed out. "But the ones that we grow have longer leaves (like the romaine) and the preparation is reduced to twisting the root off and keeping the waste to only three per cent."
More than that, Shimamura said, the look and flavour of these vegetables can be engineered to the clients' specifications by adjusting the amount of nutrients and cultivation techniques.
Shimamura, however, declined to elaborate, saying: "It is a trade secret."
Plant factories allow the impossible such as cultivating seasonal vegetables and herbs throughout the year, tailor-made taste, stable production and land optimisation.
Ozu Industry Corporation, a manufacturer of traditional washi paper since 1653, has turned its unused warehouse into a plant factory last year at Fuchu City, Tokyo, making it the only full-fledged plant factory in the prefecture.
The plant has seven-tier shelves lit by fluorescent bulbs and grows eight types of leafy vegetables and herbs, lettuce, potherb mustard, Italian parsley, watercress, "Mizuna", sweet basil, rocket lettuce and garland chrysanthemum.
After a year of production, the subsidiary company Ozu Corporation's Nihonbashi Yasai head of business development Yuichi Kaneko is confident that it will make a profit in the following year.
"People are more discerning when it comes to food safety and this pushes the demand for pesticide-free vegetables, not just from the consumers, but supermarkets and restaurateurs," he said.
Going back to nature
AT the other end of the spectrum, a young farmer, Yukio Ogawa, 35, is doing away with agrochemicals and getting help from bugs to cultivate healthy vegetables fit for his family.
After graduating in agriculture management, Ogawa worked for two years with a company distributing agricultural machines.
It struck him then that Japanese farmers had become too dependent on agrochemicals, from fertilisers to pesticides, and this practice had increased cost and reduced profitability. Going back to basics, Ogawa is determined to cultivate tasty vegetables as nature intended, leveraging on the concept of "good bugs eat bad bugs". And he created organic fertiliser by using slugs to break down compost for his plants.
He has almost halved his costs while maintaining production at optimum level. The only downside to this farming concept is "imperfect" produce.
Ogawa feels too many chemicals are used in producing perfect-looking carrots, eggplants and cabbages, raising the question of the safe level of chemicals in these vegetables.
"It is true that these agro-chemicals are approved by the Ministry but how much of it is safe for our children? How do we know whether it will have adverse effects later in our lives? I want to be sure that my children are having tasty vegetables grown without the use of chemicals which may be harmful in the long run," he said.
Getting the right bugs to control pest and fungus is downright tedious and takes a lot of patience. Part of Ogawa's daily routine is to run a medical check on the health of his crops by carefully inspecting the leaves, barks and trunk, looking for telltale signs of pest attack or fungus.
Once spotted, he will place predator insects on the affected crops.
The whole concept hinges on the delicate balance of the insect eco-system, where one insect cannot do without another - predator or prey alike.
"At my farm I try to create a harmonious eco-system for the bugs and the plants, so it is essential to keep a variety of bugs and enough food for them, otherwise the bugs will die and the plants will suffer," said the farmer.
Ogawa is confident of the shift in consumption trends as people are becoming more aware of food safety: "My customers don't mind the odd shapes and sizes of the vegetables because they know they are completely free from agro-chemicals."
He sells direct to consumers and retailers from his farms. Local supermarkets carry his Ogawa farm brand, which ensures agro-chemical free cultivation.
New Straits Times, November 11, 2009
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