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The title, one assumes, refers not to the passengers on Aeroflot flight from Tbilisi to Batumi but to the hijackers themselves.
Within Georgian society, they are members of the intellectual elite: artists, actors and sons of doctors. But the stifling scrutiny of the KGB and restrictions on travel make this a gilded cage. For young men who reverently handle a Beatles album as if it were a treasured artefact, a new life in the West is the ultimate aim. To this end, this band of friends uses the marriage of two of their party, Nika Irakli Kvirikadze and Anna Tina Dalakishvili , as a cover for the venture.
Even before the plan starts to unfold, there is a sense the gaze of the authorities is resting on these youngsters — the KGB calls in one of their fathers for a quietly menacing chat, sending the respective parents into a scuttling panic. The wedding, partly captured with one of several audacious and energetic tracking shots, marks the point at which the tension starts to ratchet. Things begin to go wrong before the gang has even entered the plane. Perhaps the boldest decision is the resolutely nonjudgmental stance toward the hijackers.
It remains to be seen whether Georgian audiences are ready for the human side of the story given the loss of innocent lives that resulted from this desperate, reckless act.
Gigineishvili makes the case that it was a tragedy for all involved. Comprising interviews, archive footage and stills, Chavela is a vivid portrayal of an artistic, social and sexual rebel whose difficult but finally triumphant progress proved there are sometimes second acts in showbiz lives.
She moved to Mexico City as a young woman, where her career really took off once she rejected the conventional feminine mannerisms of Mexican female singers, dressing in a more masculine style with trousers and her trademark poncho, and establishing the persona that allowed her to be a deeply moving interpreter of songs of love and loss.
There is a shortage of Malay material in the web even though it is the 4th widely-spoken language in the world. Hence, my quest to increase its usage in the net has translated into the birth of my very own webpage. Creating web site is tedious and require careful planning, especially if you are running on free server.
Size limitation and bandwidth, not to mention sudden death of free server translates into hard work to rewired the whole web, especially mine which was tightly integrated. Wikipedia is just what I need, though this means letting go of the tight control that I have before. It allows me to edit information that are partially completed or never have time to investigate for others to take up. I still have some reservations about releasing my materials to the internet, but for better or for worst, long live Bahasa Malaysia.
A journey of one thousand mile start with a single steps. And he is not even American-born, having migrated from Austria.
Any Hungarian or Greek pride in this diminutive man? Of course not. He is totally assimilated and is today the epitomy of Frenchness and leader of the Francophone World. The governor of Louisiana, Bobby Jindal , is the son of Indian immigrants. Do you think he got elected for his Hindi oratory skills in Cajun Country? Astro falls under what ministry?
Mana Shabery Cheek? What about the MCMC? Or have they outsourced their programming to a bunch of foreigners totally devoid of our national aspirations in their attempt to be creatively cute to justify their exorbitant fees? At this rate, our march towards national integration under a singular, cohesive identity is bleak indeed.
Let me ask this question that I know is in the minds of the majority of Malaysians. Why must Malaysia be compelled to account for every race, ethnic group and suku kaums under her flag in everything we do? Even in the sports teams we assemble?
In tourism promotions?
In government and corporate events? Come on lah. This is a COUNTRY, not a loose association of races and tribes; not a collection of connoisseurs of foreign languages and costumes languishing in self-contained cocoons; not a tenuous conglomeration of estrange peoples.
This is not a half-way-house, a transit point — a rumah tumpangan -- for people to languish prior to their resettlement in their ultimate countries of choice one or two centuries after the arrival of their forefathers to these shores.
Citizens of our blessed land must have a sense of permanence in this country. Citizenship and permanence go hand in hand. And these come with obligations. It is our obligation as permanent citizens of this country to strive for unity under a common Bangsa Malaysia identity underpinned by a common language, Bahasa Malaysia.
I've travelled far and wide and lived in many countries. Every country I've visited possess a strong sense of nationhood, a solid identity, a national philosophy, a national character. Of course, many are multi-ethnic as well, but their societies are forged by common values, a shared history, and a collective vision underpinned by a common dominant language. But sadly NOT in our beloved Malaysia. We have become a nation of ethnic ghettos and enclaves, a patchwork of estrange peoples languishing in a tense, stressful and simmering land.
This is NOT how you build a nation. There must a base of shared values and socio-cultural norms and a sense of shared destiny. Of course, we may be of different origins, but we cannot go forward as a nation via divergent, distinct paths in language, education, social norms and aspirations. The Federation of Malaysia was not designed to host a collection of mini Kwangtungs, mini Tamil Nadus, mini Keralas and mini Punjabs superimposed on a flailing Malay canvas.
And now we have to contend with an embryonic mini Surabaya, mini Kathmandu, mini Dakar, mini Saigon and mini Yangon, and soon mini Lagos and mini Nairobi. Is this really tenable? Enough of this stupidity. Cukup lah! If this model works, then nation states would be obsolete across the world. But human society does not evolve nor function this way.
There must be conformity. There must be cohesion.
There must be singularity of purpose that transcends parochial sentiments. The year Malaysian experiment to loosely weld a polygot of multiracial, multicultural, multi-whatever existence has been an utter failure.
At this rate, we'll be a failed state, destroyed by the Rabid Racists and Anarchists with no real affinity to this land. Countries have rules, countries have norms, countries have solid underlying bases that define their nationhood. And a common unifying language is always the cornerstone of this foundation. Plus a set of values, a national philosophy. Yes, we have the Rukunegara. Now, say the five tenets out loud to yourselves.
Say it out loud in perfect, assertive Bahasa Malaysia. If you can, bravo. Your stint at the Sekolah Kebangsaan was not in vain.
Now you know what a confused, stateless pathetic loser looks like? Remember the fifth tenet, Kesopanan dan Kesusilaan? Have Malaysians exhibited sufficient kesopanan lately?
Kimchi Untuk Awak
How come being sopan the antithesis of biadap and kurang ajar seemed an excruciatingly elusive trait among many of us? Can we even comprehend the meaning of Keluhuran Perlembagaan?
Or do we think it is chic, an in-thing, to bring into disrepute everything under our perlembagaan? See what happen to our lives when we have no common national ideology, national philosophy, national agenda, no sense of shared destiny and when we lack the necessary profound respect of our Negara and appreciation of our Rukunegara.
What happened to our cohesive, triumphal sports teams? Remember our football and hockey teams of the sixties, seventies and eighties? And our Thomas Cup winners of ? Recall how cohesive they were and how patriotic we were then? Remember our World Cup hockey team? We almost made it to the final if not for two heartbreak goals by ultimate champions India.
Yes, we were perched on top of the world. Remember our Bangsa Malaysia hockey team of that period? Khairuddin Zainal the rock in goal, skipper Sri Shanmuganathan marshalling the defense with authority, and Poon Fook Loke the bane of opposing defenses.
We cannot even make the cut to a crowded 12 team field in the Beijing Olympics. Mahendrans of Malaysian hockey? How come Malays now dominate our hockey scene?
Do we have to blame this on the NEP as well? Has our Kementerian Belia dan Sukan given much thought on this phenomena? Is Ismail Ahmad Sabri a sportsman to begin with? At least Azalina Othman Said looked the part, with taekwando black belt, girlfriend and all.
Kimchi Untuk Awak!
Hockey was the domain of Tamil and Punjabi Malaysians. Perhaps that may explain this uneasy restlessness, a hopeless sense of having nothing to look forward to so pervasive in our Indian brothers. Is this a way to dispense their unused youthful energy and to search for the elusive Indian Malaysian heroes and role models?
Did the selfish racists of Hindraf took advantage and filled this gap? Mahendrans, the much-need perwiras for the Indian Malaysians, albeit for a twisted, divisive cause? Now, how about football? Arumugam and Santokh Singh, through race-tinted lenses? They were members of the Bangsa Malaysia team that reigned supreme in Asia, even won the Bronze at the Teheran Asian Games and qualified for the and Olympics.
They were proud members of Bangsa Malaysia, confidently speaking in one voice. Chin Aun — the Babaesque Malacca native -- was the unquestioned skipper, leader and libero for a decade. He was the Towkay. Would we ever have another ethnic-Chinese captain of the Malaysian football team? Heck no. Forget that question. Can anyone name one ethnic-Chinese player in our current pasukan kebangsaan? These were fantastic players, many good enough to pursue professional careers in foreign lands. What happened since?
The member Malaysian team in the recent Merdeka Cup consists of 20 Malays and a lone ethnic-Tamil reserve. The ethnic-Chinese are nowhere to be seen. Indeed, the Chinese have somehow stopped playing football as our playgrounds and football fields become segregated by ethnicity and language — a direct fallout of the segregation of schools.
In the glory years of the seventies, the multi-ethnic crowd at Merdeka Stadium would rally and root voraciously for our pasukan kebangsaan and heckle the opponent in Bahasa Malaysia, spiced with a potpourri of pidgin Malay street slang in banter. The Ahmads of Kg. We were a cohesive group of 45, screaming and laughing members of Bangsa Malaysia at Merdeka Stadium.
On many occasions, I was there as a member of this Bangsa Malaysia. In fact, I can still utter their names as they are etched in the collective memories of my generation. These were the idols of Malaysian sports fans across the land. The Malaysian football team was our team, the Bangsa Malaysia team. At the neighbourhood padang, my gang took turns to mimic Arumugam in goal and Chin Aun as the libero and, of course, SuperMokh, Mokhtar Dahari.
My buddy, Ow Chak Yoon would mimic the RTM running commentary as the rest of us scurry after the tattered football; his impersonation of Zulkarnaen Hassan in ecstasy over a Malaysian goal was uncanny, surreal, and reverberates in my ears whenever I look at old faded photographs of my classmates. I always imagined I was the great Chin Aun, elegantly caressing the ball with imperious presence in the Malaysian backline.
Race was never an issue. These football legends belonged to all of us Bangsa Malaysia, speaking in one voice, striving for the same goal. Three decades later, our sports teams have degenerated into a collection of Mandarin, Tamil and English- and Manglish-speaking individuals, with Bahasa Malaysia uttered only by the Malays, and even that in mutually-unintelligible Kelantanese, Kedahan and assorted Borneo dialects.
No wonder we have become minnows in team sports, where team mates could hardly communicate, let alone strategise. Where the heck is St. Our hockey team has all but dissipated under the astroturf. Our badminton team is a shambles. These are just a small sampling of the price we all pay for our lack of national unity, lack of national identity, lack of national cohesion.
I think it is utterly Scandalous.
Kita semua sudah gila ka? Is our fragmented social existence a tenable long-term proposition, not just in sports but in our daily affairs as a sovereign nation under one flag? Is the people to blame? Do you blame the kucing when your lauk kena curi on the dinner table? The government is the biggest culprit of all. Since the Pak Lah era, we are constantly bombarded by decrees reminding us that kita adalah negara berbilang bangsa and these various bangsas must hidup bersama dalam suasana harmoni dan aman damai sejahtera.
Again, I sense a high degree of idiotic oxymoronist irony here. First the populace are incessantly reminded that they are different from one another. Then they are told to live together in peace and harmony.D Prof.
But no. It means the source of prosperity and welfare. Les miserables bring him home pdf. Dan dimana ada Yoori mestilah ada Zara.
To be a traditional healer in Bali, there is no formal schooling.