Rich people who like to insult the have not’s should be sent to re-education camps in the kampung for re-education

January 21, 2014

Those who are fortunate to have everything may not even consciously realize by just the mere act of breathing and going about their daily business of living, they can inflict pain along bring out the worst in the have not’s.

When one is poor I cannot imagine anything that is more disabling and demoralising than to the have’s rubbing salt into the wounds of the have not’s – this if you must all know is why revolutions come about – this is also the same reason why a part of me will always rue the passing of the age of re-education camps and gulags. As I can’t help but feel, despite their totalitarian pedigree. These institutions do perform a very valuable service to keep the peace and harmony in society.

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“When heaven smiles on a man and he comes to wealth. He must put himself like a seed into his community – when he commits himself to his community, only then will this man know how to conduct himself and his affairs in a way that keeps the peace and harmony in his village.

As it is only when this man is planted into the fertile soil of his community will the mysteries of life be revealed to him – in the community, he will assume the shape and form of a big tree – and all those beneath the cover of his expansive shade will be like the many lifeforms that rely on him for sustenance – shrubs, wild flowers, creepers etc etc. His massive roots will mingle with the roots of smaller plants. As time goes by, this man will begin to realise his fate, destiny and well being is inextricably linked to others in his community – and when this awareness slowly dawns on him only then will he know why he born along with what his mission in life is – till then, he was merely a monkey trained to pick coconuts, now he is a man who stands before this timeless machine that is as old as the hills – the great wheel of life.

This is the moment of truth for the sleeper who has awaken – the time when the serious men of this world will appear before him when he is still reeling from his new found awareness that he is suddenly part of design even larger than himself – the serious men will tell him to renounce his childish ways. He must set aside his baseball cap, T shirt and tennis shoes – he must now wear the superman suit of the kampung – the bush jacket.

As villagers find the sight of a man dressed in a sombre bush jacket comforting – the very sight of this man palliates their fears, soothes frayed nerves, chases away a nervous disposition and nourishes the idea, the world is still spinning and the center has not given out – it lowers high blood pressure, staves off miscarriages, scares away charlatans, thieves and brigands, relieves menstrual pains, exorcises evil and malevolent spirits, restores sobriety after a night of heavy drinking, cures hyperactivity in village kids and is even good to go to quell riots – as this man slowly learns the arcanum of the serious men, he slowly comes to the knowledge he is the custodian of the great wheel of life. His features will be transformed, gone is that child like blank perfidious faced look, replaced by the stern granite look of a man filled with purpose, responsibility and tradition. His dwellings a temple to utility, so Spartan that even his own farmhands often wonder to themselves, why does he live like a beggar…maybe he is not so rich after all…maybe our lives are not so different after all. And since this man is often seen eating the same food as the fishermen and harvesters, they too wonder no end, why is his life so similar to theirs…perhaps he just like them…slightly better, but not by much.

In the hour of the cow, when the man stands on the hill overlooking his lands a lingering sadness scars his worried features…he worries about his children….he frets about the escalating price of fish and poultry…he vexes about whether the politicians who are so far away are even aware of the impending problems that may befall his community.

Meanwhile the villagers look on pitifully at this lone tragic figure. While the womenfolk whisper in hushed tones, the poor farmer, he has no woman to take care of him…no one to wash his clothes…that is why he only wears khaki, it hides the dirt…no one to even keep him warm on lonely nights… he only has those two black dogs…what a miserable life it must be to be wealthy. No, we the peasants are better off than those miserable landowners. How lucky we all are!

As the evening closes…the wheel of life completes another revolution…tomorrow will be another day.

Now you know why in the span of two thousand years of recorded history…no revolution has ever begun in the countryside….it always begins and ends in the city…as over there rich people are all addicted to the living the vapid life of dissipation to such an extent it has corrupted all their sense and sensibilities along with hollowed out their spiritual wellness, these are very poor people….no, thinking folk should never get mad at them…they should pity them instead…as they so awfully vulgar, crass and so banally poor.”

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