Perched quietly on a snow-laden rock, Mustafa K Anuar recalls what had happened to our beloved country in the last few months prior to impending catastrophe.
By the time you read this, most of you, with the exception of those who are far-sighted enough and firmly believed in the Mayan prophecy, would have perished in the predicted apocalypse or, at the very least, run helter-skelter amidst the raining rubble.
For the uninitiated and those who thought that this disaster is merely a wild rumour emanating from Sungei Petani, there are a number of theories around to help explain this calamity.
One, a comet is expected to hit our planet around that time, failing which Mother Earth would collide with the planet “Nibiru” — and, consequently, bang!
Another theory is that a group of war-like aliens are bent on killing all humans, and these, surprisingly, include politicians who have the penchant for verbal diarrhoea. Whatever the case may be, the catastrophe is destined to occur.
Some of those who believe in this Mayan prophecy made their calculated moves to try as far as humanly possible to shelter themselves from this calamity. For instance, in Italy it was reported that a lawyer built a bunker under his villa to protect and sustain himself.
This quick thinking and instinct for survival isn’t the preserve of legal eagles though. In China, a man spent his life savings — possibly money saved since his childhood — to build his version of Noah’s Ark.
But that’s not the only option. In France, there’s a little village with a population of 179 called Bugarach, where apparently at a nearby mountain reside certain chummy extraterrestrials who are set to escape the Mayan catastrophe and fly into outer space, bringing along with them a few selected humans.
This sounds like a much better and attractive proposition indeed — although this may well be misread as some of us entertaining the notion of being dogs of imperialism of the alien kind. Hence, you can imagine the deluge of desperate human beings from all over the world wanting to descend on this tiny village.
So it’s only understandable that concerned residents of this small village were compelled to be discriminating when it came to making decisions on who could seek refuge there. As expected, a number of French nationals and other Europeans were given special preference. In the pecking order, next came others from the Americas, Asia and Africa, and these also included a smattering of aristocrats and tycoons.
The reported capital flight of some RM200bn out of Malaysia was not dirty money at all. It was sheer misplaced perception because those involved were merely trying to do the right and conscionable thing, and that is to save money elsewhere (where the interest rates are quite astronomical) for the purpose of eventual lift-off from planet Earth. Besides, there might be numerous nuggets of gold or, for that matter, chunks of rare earth hidden in one of those far-flung planets that remain to be mined.
A few titled Malaysian politicians were sighted in the vicinity of Bugarach, accompanied by their adoring wives decked in glittering gold. Many of them were rejected unfortunately as they were found to have carried lots of baggage.
Now that I have the luxury of being part of this little French refuge, I hasten to add that there are a few things I brought along with me to remind me of the soon-to-be destroyed Malaysia and to help combat potential boredom during my journey. But equally important, this is to prove my undying love for my country sans Jalur Gemilang.
Very much influenced by the movie I Am Legend (starring the talented Will Smith), I figured it would be exciting and nostalgic to watch again and again — just like how Astro does with its reruns — programmes from national TV like Berita Nasional, Bulletin Utama, Majalah TV3 and Roda-Roda Kuala Lumpur.
And also the Al Jazeera interviews with former Information Minister Zainuddin Maidin over the issue of the Bersih street protest and Perkasa chief Ibrahim Ali with the deleted expletives and recorded speeches of a number of key leaders at the last Umno general assembly to help me reminisce about the good old times.
Whilst I foresee a lack of entertainment and excitement in my anticipated voyage into the unknown, I wouldn’t go to the extent of bringing along video tapes of sexual adventurism of the political kind. But I could do with a few audio CDs featuring artistes such as James Taylor, Ramli Sarip, Adele, Azmyl Yunor, M Daud Kilau, Psy, Queen, Alif Ila Ya, Deep Purple, The Eagles, Maroon 5, The Chipmunks and Rascal Flatts, to name but a few.
Perched quietly on a snow-laden rock, I recall what had happened to our beloved country in the last few months prior to this catastrophe. For one thing, viewed from the Mayan perspective, the cash handouts of RM500 to the needy and subsidy vouchers for tyres to taxi drivers that were doled out by the federal government were, I thought, a tad too little too late. With an eye on the impending doom, the government should have given them a fair share of the coveted cows residing in condos and/or the expensive AES cameras that are hitherto in a legal bind.
Many things are left unanswered as a result of this calamity. We would never know what would have happened if the 13th general election were to take place. In fact, we would wonder if the general election would ever be held at all — much to the chagrin of a few hopefuls whose fat hopes would have been surely dashed.
In my spare time — and I am sure there would be a lot — I want to write an autobiography to dispel the stubborn suspicion that I bribed my way to the village. Let it be known to the world, or what’s left of it, that I did not.
It’s simply due to the fact that the French villagers have a soft spot for individuals who come from ethnic communities, particularly those who perceive themselves to be under constant siege, because they feel that these people are always well-prepared for any eventuality.
This piece first appeared in the Malaysian Insider