THE CICAK.com

Purple haze all in my brain

By ANDREW LOH

Once upon a time, there was a country named Aisyalam. Aisyalam was a very beautiful and diverse country with lots of nice and friendly people called Aisyalamians.

One day, quite suddenly, Aisyalam was covered with super thick haze from its neighbour Aisenodni. It became such a common annual event that Aisyalamians kept RM1 masks ready at hand for this expected annual phenomenon.

It seems that the haze bombards Aisyalam every year because Aisenodni people like to burn their forests on purpose, so that they will have land to plant stuff to make money. Aisenodni authorities don’t care, of course, that forest burning will pollute the environment and smother people with smoke which, when inhaled for a day, is worse than smoking 20 cigarettes.

So they close their eyes and let Aisenodnians make easy money while the wind conveniently blows the smoke to Aisyalam and smothers the Aisyalamians instead. Not Aisenodni’s problem, so they say.

In order to safeguard the very good friendship and common heritage among Aisyalam and Aisenodni, Aisyalam’s government has never applied diplomatic pressure on Aisenodni’s government to stop this annual phenomenon. Aisyalam politicians don’t think that the haze is serious enough to pressure Aisenodni authorities to stop those people who burn the forests to clear land to plant stuff to make money.

Or perhaps some filthy rich Aisyalamians with connections to said politicians have gone and invested in gigantic Aisenodnisian plantations that burn forests to clear land to plant stuff to make money.

Thus, the annual haze season comes year after year, with such punctuality that it might even be called a national event.

And now, it has come.

Yes, it’s that time of the year again: forests are being burnt to clear land to plant stuff to make money in Aisenodni, and Aisyalam is now covered in haze. Visibility in the capital, Alauk Rupmul and its surrounding state, Rognales, has been severely affected, with some places recording visible distances of less than one kilometer.

A Sad State of Affairs

Aisyalam has this education minister who cannot make a decision. Instead of him making a decision and being blamed for it later, he decides to entrust the school authorities with the power to make what should be his decision: to close their schools because of the haze.

But we all know Aisyalamians are well-mannered, polite, shy and indecisive. None of them dares make the first decision. To make matters worse, this education minister issues a warning that the headmasters and headmistresses will have to answer to him if they close schools unnecessarily.

Aisyalamians are followers, not leaders. Inevitably, the school headmasters and headmistresses decide not to be the first to close their schools, because “very paiseh mah,” if only one school closes and the rest do not.

Thus, by virtue of passing the buck down to the people who then pass the buck to some other people, no decision is made in the end. Those Aisyalamians (read: cowards) who possess the authority to close schools, but don’t, celebrate the simple fact that no one can be blamed, because no one made the decision to close the schools in the first place.

And so the poor Aisyalam students are suffering because they have to go to school, where they try in vain to study while their eyes are poofy and red, their noses are sneezy and runny, their throats are painful and dry, their bloodstream is being polluted by the chemicals in the air, their brains are dying from carbon monoxide poisoning, and their lifespans are being cut in half. Some of them even have to play sports in this haze, and so die even faster.

In addition, Aisyalam teachers themselves also suffer from the same symptoms that ail Aisyalam students, because they have to go to school too.

But what can they do? Life must go on, and no one in authority dares to make the first decision to stop schools.

Out of the Frying Pan, into the API

That’s not all: Aisyalam used to have an Air Pollution Index (API) which was put under the Official Secrets Act and not allowed to be made public. This was because seven or eight years ago, making the API public would discourage tourists from visiting hazy old Aisyalam. The cabinet at the time believed that without information on how bad the haze was, tourists would continue to visit Aisyalam.

Fortunately for the health of tourists and citizens alike, their very likable Prime Minister made the enlightened but fabulously belated action of making the API public again.

And now that the wonderful wind has blown all the dust and dirt and smoke away from the capital, Aisyalam is still very healthy. People, parents, students and teachers should not make too many demands to close schools, so that the education minister will not feel so bad about not making a decision. In short, everyone should continue to mind their own business.

Poor souls, these Aisyalamians. Let us all weep for them.

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ANDREW LOH is a staff writer for theCICAK. Visit his site.