PRU 2008

On 8^th March, 2008, every fair-headed registered voters should have come out to cast their votes in the General Election. Days before that date many voters must have complied with the announcement over Radio broadcast and TV telecast that voters could send a request for information as to which polling station they had to go to, through SMS – SPR, new IC number and send to 33333. Tondu and I had complied with such prompt accordingly. I found out that I was, as usually I would, to cast my vote at SRK St. Joseph’s, in Penampang. My assigned row was number one and I was listed as number 144 on the electorol rolls. Despite of these knowledge, when I arrived at the voting station, I was still required, by circumstances, to see the SRP Desk to get a repeat of the information I had already found out. Quite a no waste of time really, save for the SMS service of 50 sen! One would still have to approached the SPR Desk to ask which room was actually room number one. The door was not marked or labelled as room number one. Although I stayed in Tintap, as I had already long moved kampung, I had never bothered to change my voting station. It did not really matter for I was still voting for the ADUN for Moyog and MP for Penampang. I only had to travel approximately 12 kilometers away to my original voting station. I left Kampung Tintap for SRK St. Joseph’s in Penampang at 8.30 in the morning. To cast my vote was the most important duty I had in mind to acomplice for that day. I wanted to avoid the rain and its after effect. The Moyog river was very much suceptable to flooding even after a short downpour. But, on coming to Penampang schools, I made a wrong stop at the SRK St. Joseph’s wing near SM St. Michael’s. That was my wrong place. I did not waste a lot of time as I was immediately informed by fellow fools to proceed to the other school building which was about three hundred yards further up the road. On coming out of my car at that correct destination, I saw a table, not a pondok as it used to be, of a political party, mine to support traditionally, at the foot of the hill. Tondu hung around that place socialising with familiar faces while I went up the hill to cast my vote. There were SPR tagged personnels in yellow around. They all kept quite on seeing me panting my every stride up the hill. I supposed they had to keep quite until spoken to, or maybe, they were all amased to the point they could not speak to see me take things seriously. Arrow signs directing people to room one were nowhere to be found. So I went to the SPR Desk and followed everyone present one’s Personal Identification Card to the personnel on duty. When my turn came the personnel on duty punched my IC number on her laptop and told me details I had already known. She gave me a small piece of paper marked Tempat Mengundi 1. I asked generally as to where Tempat Mengundi number one was. Almost everyone who heard me enlightened me that the row where I was standing, the row nearest the SPR Desk, led to Room Number One, which was the same as Tempat Mengundi 1. When I finally came to the door, I saw that there was no marking indicating that it was Room Number One. But it was Room Number One. Sabina came and went straight to the policeman at the door. Someone must have told her to go straight to the front, jumping the queue. I asked my auntie, John’s mother, who was lined-up on the women’s queue, “Sogiton naku iho? (Is she sick?) I said refering to Sabina, also an aunt to me. My auntie said, “Sohivuton ka iho”. (She is suffering from shingles). Another elderly woman infront of her said, “Asaanang o tubat do sohivut. Onuon po i kinoohusan do vuhanut om soobon no, onuan no do tumau piasau om gigihan noo.” (It is not too complicated to heal shingles. Just get the snake’s self-discarded skin, burn it a bit, mix it with coconut oil and rub it on). The conversation exchanged in small talk, as if everyone knew the maintain-silence rules, was still on when I stepped into the room to do my voting. I missed the rest of the quite-informative exchanges. The whole process of casting votes, for ADUN and Parliament was over in no time. On going down the hill I met quite a number of relatives and people I was familiar with. Tondu had ealier been given two bottles of drinking water from the BN table. They were labelled BN. Earlier, when I was still on line, meaning literally lined-up in the men’s row alongside the women’s row, Eddie, who was a few fellows lined-up behind me, made his communicative starter, ignoring or unaware of the silence-sign prominantly displayed for all to see. He said quite loudly, “Iti no do touvii no do kopongundi zou. Au’ zou nodi kopongundi do songian kivaa vagu’ o pongundian. Mugad zou nodii.” (This is the last time I cast my vote. I would not be voting the next time there is an election. I am going already.) Without turning my head to see the scenario, I heard another fellow acknowledged him by asking, “Dodoo, nombo ngozon nu?,” he asked. (Eh, where are you going?) “Sumampaping”, Eddie answered. (Going to the other side). Meaningless controlled laughters from many directions follwed. Eddie, although a pensioner, was still relatively young. He could be less than 68 years young. Still, comparatively speaking of others around him, he was an old-timer. Those were the two on-going verbal communications I had to leave when I stepped into the room to cast my vote. We then proceded to SRJK Yue Min where Tondu cast her vote. She was at that voting station for just a few minutes. Efficiency in the whole procedure must have improved a lot. After getting a mid-morning refreshment, we did a little shopping before returning to Tintap. On the way back, we stopped by a petrol station to fill-up the car. I met Milin at that station and inquired whether he had cast his vote already. He said, “Au’ po”. (Not yet). “Ba, moi nogi’ haid. Umasam mati’ iho”. (Better go early. It may rain later). I started with this communicative starters quite unaware of possible implications of happenings during the day. He said, “Au’ monguo, okonko ngau’ kivaa pazung”. (It doesn’t matter. There is an umbrella). I knew that he was an opposition voter. He came from the same kampung as the opposition candidate using the umbrella as his election symbol. He wanted to prolong the conversation but it was my turn to cut him short. I did not want to get negative input into my personal computer and allow it to reach my long-term memory. Before the election date, during the 13 days allowed for campaigning, the so-called “Markas” established by a leading political party, had a defeative inclinations. One of the slogan-jokes the workers from the Markas that I knew, a joke-slogan which they must have heard from somewhere, or which their Markas opposition elements could even have planted in their minds and which they were hoped to propogate from their Markas, was, “We want our candidate to win but we ensure the opposing candidates get big votes rendering our candidate a small majority”. When this line of thinking was mentioned to me, either on purpose or accidentally, by a Markas worker, or rather, by a Markas idler, I was quite disturbed and very much worked up. I told that man not to think in such line and to refrain from repeating such words to anyone he would meet in future, even long after the election. I asked one worker as to what the Markas frequenters would do during their time at the Markas. He said, “ Inggaa’ ”. (Nothing). “Minum kupi om aramaiti tu haro nogi 3 sopulu om talak”. “Momoin lap-lap nogi”. They drink coffee, and aramaiti with 3 sepuloh and talak. They even indulged in ‘lap-lap’. Those were the few reports I was fed with by an unsuspecting Markas idler rather than worker of a Markas that I know. Little inefficiencies like these could lead to some big disasters. Were the party workers pre-election duties defined? Did the area campaign managers had some sort of a 13-days scheme of work for themselves and for each Markas? Was there any checklist? But, now I have started a search of my thoughts with some self- searching questions, “Am I a fool of a comformist? Am I a fool when all the others are smart? Am I taking life and everything there is in it seriously?” I waited from early evening on 8^th March to about 3.00 o’clock in the morning on 9^th March for news from the broadcast and telecast. When the election rersults of my constituency, ADUN and MP, had been announced, only then I retired for the previous evening in the following morning.