Pandan Perdana – Narrow road and an inaccessible walkway.
File photo dated May 21, 2006.

There was a slight drizzle. It was dark. The tree just below the street lamp shaded the illumination. It was ten past eight. It was an accident waiting to happen. And it happened. Wuan was pushing me along the walkway from the shops back to her house after dinner yesterday. As always, she would slightly lift my wheelchair and manoeuvre around one particular lamppost along the way because there was barely enough space between that lamppost and kerb to allow my wheelchair to pass.

Pandan Perdana – Lamppost in the center of walkway.
File photo dated May21, 2006.

While she was lifting the wheelchair, the right front caster went off the edge of the kerb. She desperately tried to pull it back onto the walkway. It was an impossible task even if she had the strength. She lost her balance. The back wheel went off the kerb as well. In a split second, my wheelchair tilted right, dropped onto the road and landed on its side. I was thrown onto the road by the impact. I could feel the rough surface of the road scraping against some parts of my body and the stinging pain that ensued. From her muffled voice, I knew that Wuan fell onto the road too.

Pandan Perdana – The narrow space between lamppost and kerb
File photo dated May21, 2006.

She got up and kept apologising, “I am so sorry darling.” I could see the panic in her face. She had turned a few shades paler. I could see the fear in her eyes when she asked if I was injured. I kept reassuring her that I was all right and asked if she injured herself. Nevertheless, at the back of my mind, what I feared most was being run over by a passing vehicle, especially by a bus, as I was lying helpless on the road in the semi-darkness.

Pandan Perdana – Car parked on the walkway.
File photo dated May21, 2006.

A beat-up van passed us by as I lay sprawled on the road. It stopped a short distance away. Two men got out from the van and came running towards us. I could hear the sounds of a motorcycle stopping behind me. In those few seconds of confusion, someone asked how he could help. A man wearing a helmet was just behind me, helping Wuan with the wheelchair. The two men from the van were standing in front of me.

Pandan Perdana – Another car parked on the damaged walkway opposite.
File photo dated May21, 2006.

I instructed Wuan to put the brakes on and push back the armrest on my side to make it easier to put me back on the wheelchair. Someone held my right arm, another my left, and with a single heave both placed me back onto the wheelchair. Before Wuan and I could thank them enough, they had already left – the van and the motorcycle melting into the distance and darkness. Without them, Wuan would not have been able to get me back onto the wheelchair.

Superficial wounds on my left palm and right forearm.

“Are you all right? Did you injure yourself?” I asked Wuan, worried that in the ensuing commotion, she had not realised that she was injured. She did a cursory check. There were some minor scrapes on her leg from falling onto the road. I lost some skin and flesh on my left hand, the result of attempting to break my fall with it. There were also some superficial wounds on my right arm, elbow, leg and foot. My right triceps ached. I must have pulled that muscle when I fell.

Close-up of the cuts on my right forearm.

What pained me most were not the minor injuries to Wuan and myself but the stupidity of planting a lamppost right in the center of the walkway. It does not take much intelligence to know that walkways are for pedestrians. They are to prevent pedestrians from walking on the road and endangering their own lives and those of motorists. Here, we have a lamppost that stuck out like a sore thumb blocking easy access of the walkway. Walkways are roads for pedestrains. Would anybody in his or her right frame of mind install a lamppost right in the middle of a public road? Wuan could have been seriously injured. The fall could have broken a bone or two in me or I could have killed because the engineers and architects at Majlis Perbandaran Ampang Jaya and Tenaga Nasional Berhad did not see it fit to relocate the obstructing lamppost. Idiots!

Close-up of the wound on my left palm.

Walkways in many parts of Malaysia are a hazard. Never mind that they are devoid of kerb ramps at the ends for accessibility. If there are kerb ramps, most time they are not constructed to be functional. Some are in a state of disrepair with uneven surfaces while some have uncovered holes that could cause a fracture if a leg was trapped in it. Every time I want to get onto the walkways to reduce the risks of being hit by a vehicle on the road, I needed assistance. Malaysian kerbs are being constructed higher and higher to prevent vehicles from being parked on it. This has greatly inconvenienced those who have mobility problems and are unable to climb the 6-inch height, especially the elderly. Then, there is the danger of falling from misstepping on the sudden drop at the end of the walkways when getting off them.

Close-up of the wound on my right elbow.

Very often, walkways are adorned with street furniture that causes great inconvenience to disabled persons, namely wheelchair users and the visually impaired. Refuse bins, traffic signs, post boxes, lampposts and even trees are left to obstruct the flow. Apart from that, we have to contend with inconsiderate drivers, motorcyclists and trishaw riders who park their vehicles indiscriminately on the walkways. Hawkers and shopkeepers are culprits to such inconveniences too with their carts and goods.

Close-up of the wounds on my right leg.

Now, Wuan and I have to think of ways and means to go to the shops without getting on the road and risk being hit by passing vehicles or get on the offending walkway and risk falling off it again. For wheelchair users, safe options are very limited or even non-existent. That is how much we are worth to the government and the local authorities. According to Wikipedia, Malaysia has the best expressway network in Southeast Asia and is ranked third in Asia. That is something that I have always been proud of as a Malaysian. However, in my eyes, Malaysia ranks zero in terms of accessible walkways. How ironic.

Note: The photos taken on May 21, 2006 were for an entry I wanted to write on inaccessibility in Pandan Perdana. The accident expedited the process.

Related entry:
A Day At Pandan Indah – Pandan Indah is also under the jurisdiction of Majlis Perbandaran Ampang Jaya.

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This just came in the mail. It is a timely reminder, considering this period of mourning that my kinsfolk are going through. Thank you Calum for sharing this very touching story.

My mother used to ask me what is the most important part of the body. Through the years I would take a guess at what I thought was the correct answer. When I was younger, I thought sound was very important to us as humans, so I said, “My ears, Mommy.”

She said “No, many people are deaf. But you keep thinking about it and I will ask you again soon.”

Several years passed before she asked me again. Since making my first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer. So this time I told her, “Mommy, sight is very important to everybody, so it must be our eyes.”

She looked at me and told me, “You are learning fast, but the answer is not correct because there are many people who are blind.”

Stumped again, I continued my quest for knowledge and over the years, Mother asked me a couple more times and always her answer was, “No. But you are getting smarter every year, my young child.”

Then last year, my grandpa died. Everybody was hurt. Everybody was crying. Even my father cried. I remember that especially because it was only the second time I saw him cry. My Mom looked at me when it was our turn to say our final goodbye to Grandpa.

She asked me, “Do you know the most important body part yet, my son?”

I was shocked when she asked me this now. I always thought this was a game between her and me. She saw the confusion on my face and told me, “This question is very important. It shows that you have really lived in your life. For every body part you gave
me in the past, I have told you was wrong and I have given you an example why. But today is the day you need to learn this important lesson.”

She looked down at me as only a mother can. I saw her eyes well up with tears. She said, “Son, the most important body part is your shoulder.”

I asked, “Is it because it holds up my head?”

She replied, “No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved one when they cry. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime in life, my son. I only hope that you have enough love and friends that you will always have a shoulder to cry on when you need it.”

Then and there I knew the most important body part is not a selfish one. It is sympathetic to the pain of others. People will forget what you said; people will forget what you did; but people will never forget how you made them feel.

Author unknown

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What needed to be done was accomplished yesterday evening. It took me a long time to psych myself up to make that call. What was I supposed to say to a woman who has just lost her son? It all happened so suddenly. It all happened so unexpectedly. He went to work early in the morning and came back in a coffin. I was lost. I did not know what I should say. In times like this words alone would not be sufficient.

I looked at the clock. It was eight. I looked at Wuan. She gave me a reassuring look. I was hesitant but I had to made that call anyway. My hand felt weaker than it usually was as I picked up the phone. My fingers were trembling when I pressed the numbers. I called Peter. He has been with them the whole day assisting where needed. He passed the phone to her. I told her who I was and became tongue-tied. The two silent seconds felt like two hours.

“You have to eat. You have to take care of yourself,” I continued.

Seeming oblivious to those words, she said, “Bo liao.”

I started crying when I heard her voice breaking, and we both cried over the phone.

“You have to look after yourself too,” she advised me. She had always been concerned for Mum’s and my welfare. And still caring for me at a time like this made me really lost for words.

“He has constantly been asking about you. We wanted to go see you but we did not know if you were around.”

My chest felt tight upon hearing those words. I tried to speak but all I could manage were intelligible grunts. I was bawling. Wuan grabbed some tissues from the box, removed my glasses and wiped my eyes. She had expected me to cry but not to this extent. When we both have calmed down, we spoke for a short while more and hung up. I wished I knew how to comfort her but I did not. What do you say to a mother who has just lost her child?

Related entry:
Death Came Suddenly

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