“The good things he tried, while he lived. Just some of them.”
Just done watching new Netflix show [Halston], on the late American fashion designer – who was a fabulous artist, and a cocaine lover. After turning off the “TV”, I remember that I wrote a story about my experience in a soup kitchen project with Justin. And Justin’s personal rehab project for two drug users. Although the circumstances for the people in Halston and my real-life experience couldn’t be more different, I just want to finish the essay and post it. I have a very bad habit of starting things and not finish them, at least tonight I can go to bed knowing that I have finished this writing that I started in November last year. The essay is now finished, finally, half a year after I started writing it…but the memories of the experience stay with me. May 23, 2021
“The good things he tried, while he lived. Just some of them.”
Nov 10, 2020
The topic of Justin came up during the session I had yesterday with an alternative medicine practitioner. Amongst other topics such as body inflammation, food allergies, and personal relationships. I told her that I gave myself tremendous stress - that I have inflicted on myself, tremendous stress and mental burden to plan something profound this year to commemorate the passing of Justin, this being the tenth year since his bike accident.
But of course, it was an ingredient for disaster – self-imposed burden and stress. I had a horrible hangover, migraine and lip inflammation on October 3. It took a couple of days to subside. I learned my lesson…all my best lessons are the hard ones.
Now that I am calmer and it’s been a month plus since his tenth death anniversary, and with advice from this ‘therapist’ about relationships. “Close that chapter, but don’t let go of the wonderful memories of the life you have built with him. Then maybe you will really be ready for potential of a new relationship, not because you need a boyfriend, but because you want a lover in your life.” Yup. I explained to her that I have a strong resistance (something else to investigate into in due time) towards the notion of “a boyfriend”, rather, what I know works for me is, a lover.
But anyway, I have let my opening of the real story got longer than intended (as always) but it serves as a catalyst (to me) for my story here.
I tell myself, “Janet, remember the goodness, the good he brought to the world around him.” Just typing this made me tear immediately. Because, if you knew Justin, you’d know he was a good guy, he really was. The kind of human who saw nothing but the good in people, and always focus on doing good for others.
The chapter of his life, when he committed to helping out at Food Not Bombs KL (a soup kitchen movement in KL), and later he tried to rehabilitate two drug addicts on his own…I was with him all that time. Thinking back, I realized what privilege it was that I was an eye witness to such a selfless act, from a guy I was in a relationship with. Recalling our days with FNBKL is very emotional, I cannot tell whether it is because I still miss Justin or because the memory of us volunteering together is reminding me of a calling that I need to do – helping others.
Anyway.
I met Ted at a car boot sale in TTDI, a weekly (or was it monthly?) event organized by a beautiful person, Kinky Blue Fairy Joyce Wong. Ted told me about the social initiative that he is running, a soup kitchen for the homeless people in downtown KL – Food Not Bombs. The serving station was in Bukit Nanas, behind Telekom museum, every Sunday. I decided to check it out and I would have told Justin about it immediately and in no time, the two of us were volunteering every weekend. Hardcore, we were also so young. What year was it? I cannot recall, probably 2003 or 2004.
Very soon after we started serving and washing dishes by the side of the road with FNBKL, Justin initiated more support by sponsoring the rice every weekend, including cooking it himself, and taking his family car, a Pajero – to ferry all the food and serving tools, from FNBKL’s “warehouse & kitchen” – UBU (University Bangsar Utama), a little flat that belonged to social activist, stand-up comedian and writer, Hishamuddin Rais. Justin’s family had an Indonesian helper in the house then, her name was Cina (I don’t know the actual spelling of her name but she was introduced to me as Cina). Cina started doing the cooking of the rice soon after Justin volunteered to bringing rice to the serving. Cina would use the regular rice cooker to make the rice, and she had to do that a few rounds, in order to fill up the big container – the kind you see at Chap-Fan stalls.
Being a mathematician and engineer, efficiency was a factor to him, Justin bought an industrial size rice cooker for Cina to do her job every weekend. I wonder where is the cooker now. Cina was young but very mature, sunny disposition and what I remember her best now, was how supportive and loyal she was towards our venture then. All I remember of her face now is her short boy cut hair, and she had big white sets of teeth, and big wide-eye smile while she was working. Always smiling whenever our eyes meet. She would follow us to the serving every Sunday, in the Pajero the three of us would go. First stop at UBU to pick up the vegetarian curry dish that goes with white rice, and any other food donated by others. Then we head to the serving location in Bukit Nanas KL. The minute we stop the jeep, all the volunteers already at the location, and all of us would set up the serving counter like clockwork. There would have been a long queue of ‘client’s waiting for the sustenance.
By then we started storing all the serving station tools at his house too. A folder table, two big plastic containers of washable plastic plates, fork and spoons, and Styrofoam boxes for take-away just in case.
If you ask me now, why. My answer would be, of course it was because I wanted to do good. That’s all of us, everyone wants to do something that they believe is bringing good to others, or to someone. I was young and have yet to have a strong direction of life. Justin was five years older than me, already in a senior position in his family IT business company but I supposed, he had always wanted to do more outside of his work, to live a life that he was happy with. That included learning to bike, and doing corners better, run longer, teaching children about science, and loving me.
Slowly a pattern settled in, at those weekend servings; the real social initiative took place while food and drinks were being served. Thinking back now, I realized I was not aware of the impact that the group at FNBKL was trying to make, I was just a hyper, energetic and efficiency-crazed young woman who just wanted to be part of something bigger than her – and to provide food to as many homeless, lonely person who came to queue up. But Justin, he would be away from the serving counter, deep in making conversations with the ‘clients’, I never asked him what he talked about with those who came to eat.
Of course, he was making the plate of food we served much more than nutrients itself. He tried to create a deeper connection and meaning to the work I was doing alongside other young and idealistic college students, mostly Malays. Through making those conversations, it was clear that FNBKL was not just about providing a free meal once a week to those needy souls. Guys like Justin was making a family-like environment for the people who turned up to eat. Food, water and air keep us alive, but having a friend who cares about your health, your mental state – makes it much more than just being alive. That’s what everyone needs.
Then we started doing more than just cooking rice, setting up and serving. Justin and I would go to a few spots around town to gather free ingredients for the Sunday cook. On Saturday mornings we went to either, Bangsar Lucky Garden wet market to get leftover fruits from stalls, or Chow Kit wet market for vegetables. The vegetable vendors usually keep a big basket of loose leaves of cabbage, those they peeled from the fresh head, to keep whatever they’re selling look fresh and nice. We would gather those they discarded into the basket under their stall, with permission of course. It’s a lot of leg work but we would always get a good harvest. That saves money for the collective, and it’s keeping some real food from going to waste, win-win.
The last year we volunteered there, Justin started working on different things. He wanted to help two addicts to get back on their feet, to led a more normal life. Sam and Michael. Sam was a tall, gentle and well-spoken Indian man from Perak. He was working as parking attendant opposite from where we were serving. If you are old enough to know what and where Bom-Bom room is, he worked at the carpark.
Sam was still on the substance, how often I don’t know. Though he was skinny but he was definitely well enough to keep a job. But Justin wanted something better for him. He wanted Sam to quit substance all together. I had my day job then and wasn’t keeping tab of much details from the DIY rehab work that Justin was doing with Sam. I remember Justin took Sam back to his hometown to reunite with his family, Ipoh or something like that. He also bought some medicine for Sam to get off the drug, a daily dosage of meds to keep you off the thing. Justin thought by getting Sam to be close to his family, that connection would help him stay away from consumption. It didn’t work, I remember Sam left Ipoh and came back to KL. At one-point Justin invested in some merchandize like cheap watches and knick-knacks, and got Sam to sell them at a margin so he could make a business for himself. Didn’t work out too.
Michael’s case was way different. Michael was a frail, hunched Chinese man who had a wrinkly and sad face, maybe because he wallowed in his sad circumstances more. Michael was also homeless so you can imagine how different it was from Sam’s condition. Justin rented a small room for Michael in Pandah Indah, and try to start him on a business of washing laundry for people. Got him a handphone so customers could call his number to get their laundry done.
Thinking back now, these seem like buggy ideas that could easily not work out, well, they did not work la at the end. I mean, why would someone in those Pandan Indah flats want an old, lone Chinese man to hand wash their clothes? But I think the bigger reason those rehab work did not work, it was because Justin under-estimate the work of changing someone’s habit, without a bigger network of support. Justin was running an IT department, living with his family (and me), and rehabbing two drug addicts – all by himself. What was he thinking?! Well, that was Justin for you. Positively a cock-eyed optimist.
In the end, we found Michael’s room in Pandan Indah abandoned. He was missing, we couldn’t find him. I remember riding to the flat with Justin on his bike, we called out his name, no one answered the door. We peeped through the window of his room, messy and lonely, no one inside. In the end, I cannot recall how, Justin met him in the hospital when he was already dying.
Sad stories, but beautiful when I think how hard Justin tried to help Sam and Michael. I am sure Sam and Michael too appreciated his work and had wanted better for themselves but alas.
We also made trips out to a HIV and rehab center in Batu Arang. I remember men sitting around playing with dogs, there was a goat in the farm, chickens, sunshine, trees…and me, taking photos, and Justin making conversations with the men. There was an air of peacefulness about the place, but was it really peace? I don’t know, that was just my perception, as a visitor.
I looked up the photos I took. Photos of whatever I took of all those happenings and experiences I had, riding along with my enthusiasm to make a difference (in whatever I was hoping to change, who knows if I knew what I was doing back then), and riding on Justin’s passion and focus to help those men he met along our Foot Not Bombs days.
Turned out that I didn’t find many photos in my collection here. But I don’t think I need photos…for me, the images of those times, the years, the months, the outings, the people I met and saw, are all imprinted in my memories and my mind; and will stay here for a long time, I think.
I miss him and how his love and compassion touched so much around him. I only hope I will always have it in me to keep the legacy of goodness in my days.
posted by Going-Solo at 4:45 PM
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