Licking My Wounds

Wak and I arrived at Masjid Ijok around 2.30pm. We had made our way around several polling centers, recording the events of the day. It was a real hot afternoon with very little clouds in the sky; earlier in the morning while making my way to Ijok, the radio station mentioned that it might rain in the later part of the day, and advise voters in Ijok to cast their before lunchtime. I whispered to myself "That was a message meant for the phantom voters".

Soon as we were in the masjid, Wak lay his body down to rest. I felt a pang of guilt at not helping the BA in bringing the voters from their homes. But Wak had a point, he wanted to be at the SPR Operation Center - just a stone throw away from the masjid - early, to avoid any traffic congestion that might arise later. So as soon as I performed the Zohor prayers, I too took a nap, waking up just before Asr.

At about 5.30pm, after we had refreshed ourselves at a nearby coffee shop, we walked to the center with our equipments. This time, I didn't have to carry the stepladder. Rather, I had asked Wak to bring the other large camera for me to use. And a cameraman I was for the day. Hooray!

At 6.30pm, I received a call from Roslan, the wtv8 bigwig. He advised us to return as the forecast results did not seem encouraging. But Wak and I, being Wak and I, we insisted on staying, come what may. And stay we did...only to record the loss of PKR's Tan Sri Khalid. By the time the last vote was announced, Wak and I made our way through the crowd, back to our car in the Masjid's compound. No, we did not feel dejected, though we did expect a very close result.

By the time Wak drove me to my car, I was almost exhausted. The pains in my legs had worsen. To support and balance my body caused by the slight defect on my left leg, my right leg felt like it was...well, in pain. It, my right leg, had, for the life that I can consciously remember, been absorbing my entire body weight. Where once, as a military cadet in school, it was able to take various punishments, it now feel like an overused and abused vehicle - battered and old. Before I received my military boots, the only drill my legs could not afford my body, was the 'pacak'; a killer drill where one had to march double quick time on one's heels carrying real rifles. A point of interest was that during my first year, we were trained with SLR rifles which was taller than most of the younger cadets, yours truly included.

Oops! A side note here: whilst at one of the polling centers, there was a slight disturbance between the opposition and BN's supporters, one that saw the police bringing in reinforcements. When they arrived, I could have sworn that one member of the police voluntary reserve force, was carrying an old Lee Enfield! Except for the butt of the rifle being small, the entire body of the rifle certainly looked like a Lee Enfield! The bolt-like cock of the rifle and the short magazine clip was a definite giveaway! I do not know any other rifle with such features. And Malaysia is buying 2 submarines! Wow!

Anyway, soon as I slid into the driver's seat of my car, my right leg felt like it was dragging a cement block. My mind was wondering which route to use to get back home, one that would require me to use my legs the least. But a car being a car, you need to press the accelerator pedal to get it moving. Thus, it was literally a slow drive back to Kota Damansara.

For several days after, I did not leave the house, preferring to rest my legs, all soaked in different ointments I could find at home. I was, literally, licking my wounds, and not, figuratively, my, or rather, our pride. What's a defeat in the election when you compare it to the faith you uphold? Nothing!