Sekeping Kong Heng: the saga continues

It is entirely possible that those who consider themselves well-mannered and considerate towards their fellow humans may well have the rudest remarks reserved for this curious amalgam of plastic, plasterboard, concrete, brick and steel that has been thrust into and upon the old fabric that has served for decades as a legendary place to meet over delicious, inexpensive fare.

Old and young, famous or otherwise, few Malaysians would claim they did not know of this coffee shop, especially when its conjoined twin Theen Chun (AKA as the House of Mirrors) sits just across the narrow lane that divides yet connects the two. And I can think of no other outlet where you may order food from one shop and have it brought over to the other!

But the Greek philosopher Heraclitus once suggested that change is the only constant, and Ipoh is no more immune to change than any other city.

So then, are you expected to reserve judgement in the face of this exercise in modern "brutalist architecture", a genre that is unlikely to be seen again, at least not in bucolic Ipoh?

“Yes,” I say. “Give the more sanguine sophisticates – either Malaysian or foreign - a chance, and this invigorating structure may yet spawn an urban legend that may rival that of Second Concubine Lane just across the street.“

Fresh green saplings and creepers modulate and enliven the otherwise long, almost dreary lanes on either side of Kong Heng: pink brick paving in two sizes offer a sense of peace and tranquility. Nevertheless, traditional and new materials are juxtaposed in the most disconcerting manner.  Black painted steel stanchions spring uncompromisingly upward in support of a fire escape and an electrically operated goods hoist.

And when you get to the back of the site, more shocks greet you: transparent plastic sheets roof a grimy apology of a single story structure. The musty roof trusses silhouette darkly and gothically against the sky, as does an ancient tree that stands defiantly against time. Pristine white local limestone blocks line the floor of the open terrace, and you get the impression that the architect had intentions of milking the maximum drama out of this pocket of a renovation.

But wait a minute: you cannot reasonably say that, for this apparent effrontery has its counterpoint in the most carefully proportioned structures and unbounded spatial flows that make up the grounds. In the same vein, the partially enclosed lounge with its attendant restrooms continue these surprising, rhythmic dances under the canopy of a majestic tree.

When you retrace your steps and gingerly negotiate the steel staircase enclosed in lace-like skins to the first floor, you come face to face with recycled louvre doors that open onto a cage-like dormitory that sleeps six. By now, you have begun to expect the unexpected, for there appears to be no privacy afforded to these sleeping quarters. Nor adequate shelter from tropical sun and wind-driven rain.

“This can't be real,” you mutter sotto voce to yourself, as if you feared being overheard and jailed for being blunt-speaking. “But at least the eight air-conditioned rooms with attached bathrooms, shoehorned into the first floor of the old structure seem safe enough,” you console yourself.

Daring to explore further, you go up another floor and find yourself oddly relieved to find an old-fashioned tiled roof over a wall-less meeting hall with waist high steel netting to stop you falling over the edge. It is only when you step onto the original second floor of old Kong Heng that you get thrown off kilter all over again, for tucked neatly into the majestic roof trusses are two glass and metal bedrooms!

Trying your best to recover from this totally unexpected use of existing supports, you peer out one of the rickety timber shutters to spy - across the street - good old Second Concubine Lane. And the strangely calming hustle and bustle on Leech Street (now Jalan Bandar Timah) two floors below.

Much later, when you have recovered from the surreal experiences, you learn that the disused furniture warehouse next door sports a steel structure. And realize that the architect of the new work was only extending the use of that language of forms. To that end, she (?) has been expressing herself intelligently and even wittily. (That warehouse also figures prominently in future plans for Sekeping Kong Heng)

James Stirling's brick, concrete, steel and glass complex for the engineering building, Leicester University (completed 1963) was once thought an example of “architecture as high art”. Perhaps a little of that spirit may be discerned here, even if the layperson - who knows what pleases him or her - vows never to step foot onto the grounds.

Laughing in the spirit

Quite innocently, I turned up for last night's weekly Charismatic Worship at the catholic church of Our Mother of Perpetual Help (OMPH), even as it had been billed as a Healing Service a couple of weeks ago.

But instead of a lay preacher at the mike, it began much like a regular Mass with Fr Joseph Steven in full regalia, Bible readings and responsorial readings, accompanied by the most able choir.

The priest delivered a homily based on the tale of Jonah who was swallowed by a whale and which threw him out later. Apparently this is an allegory about resurfacing out of 'sin' that parishioners are encouraged to do, especially since it's a week since Ash Wednesday (22 Feb that marks the beginning of the Lenten season.

"Lent is a Christian celebration that is not marked by sales, such as those offered by malls at Christmas," he reminded us. "It is a period for introspection and to renew oneself with a view to purification. Those who have gone through the RCIA (Rites of Christian Initiation for Adults) also begin their preparation over the next few weeks for baptism at Easter."

After Holy Communion at the end of Mass, Fr Jo - as he is affectionately addressed by his flock - sallied into the raison d'etre for the special service.

"Healing oneself of perceived hurts allows the penitent to begin life anew, just as they agreed to do so upon their baptism."

I was right at the back of the worship hall, but did not join the long queue of my 'brothers and sisters in Christ' milling at the front pew. But I soon found myself laughing and giggling almost continuously for some five minutes, when the hilarious mood suddenly lifted.

Only to have it go on again for another five minutes after a quiet period of perhaps ten minutes.

How strange, I thought, as I checked the time on my cellphone: the laughing fits took place almost symmetrically upon 9.00 pm. And I recall the two previous occasions when I collapsed helplessly with laughter at Alex Woo's charismatic sessions.

When cousin Peggy SMSed this morning, she told me that I had been "laughing in the spirit", and suggested that I read 1 John 4:1, which had me trawling the internet for more information.

Along the way I uncoverd that curious event dubbed the Toronto Blessing when in January 1994 there began at a church service a series of phenomena when "holy laughter" was a hallmark manifestation, including many other unusual physical displays.

Here's a  video that should offer an idea of what I went through, though in that short excerpt, the participant was supported by his friends, while I had fun all by myself, seated on a back pew!

At lunch a little while ago and intending to write about last night, I began giggling again at the thought. But I seem to be my everyday contented, detached self now.

When I told Alex about what happened, she suggested that I might take part in a laughter yoga session. I suppose I could buy Abhi's set of laughter therapy materials. He believes that laughter was the one ingredient that led to his lack of success, despite deploying the arsenal of techniques at his disposal.

I now understand Alex's astonishingly high rate of production NTM the large number of admirers she has attracted: she's so full of life, laughing and giggling easily at the slightest provocation.

More power to her then and I wonder if I got out of my dour old persona I might begin to write as effortlessly as she does.

edited 9 December 2013:
I have since learned from new friends who are promoting 'complementary' health practices that I may have clairsentient abilities. If that is so, I could have picked up feelings that my catholic friends expressed in song and testimonies. Perhaps those laughing fits of mine were no more than inappropriate responses?

Marian's cortisol levels

Last Monday night 18 Dec, when I bumped into her at Sun Weng Fatt, Marian was apparently still hungry after polishing off Gurmit's curry rice, and bought deep-fried beehoon in gravy for the 2 of us. Ah Nam duly delivered the order plus the usual sets of small bowls, spoons and chopsticks, and we finished our respective portions in almost no time at all.

It was rather delicious, and Marion wholeheartedly agreed.

But what she did next was rather unusual, at least in this little village formerly known as Epau and / or Paloh.

She dug her chopsticks and spoon into the communal dish and dumped the remaining third into my little bowl, saying, "Hey Peter, why don't you finish it," or words to that effect. And since I hadn't had dinner, I duly complied: after all, it was quite a tasty offering.

Perhaps half a minute later, I suddenly felt disgusted for no apparent reason, and I'm not prone to such feelings, since I'm generally good-humored most times of almost any day. In fact, I break into a broad grin for no reason than feeling thankful for being in good health for my age. (Apart from my sniffling but that's another story)

I soon twigged: Marion's reported foul mood earlier in her day must have found its way into her saliva.

Now isn't that strange?

No, no stranger than picking up another person's depressed mood left on a plastic chair I sat upon in a Canning Garden eatery many months ago.

I wonder if I may profit in some way or another from this curious gift of mine.