Yesterday, both my children collected their RM100 each from their school.
Was I thrilled as a parent? Was I grateful as a citizen? Was I impressed as a voter?
The answer is a plain ‘no’ to all the questions above.
Too little, too late, but I will still take it anyway. This is all I could afford to say on this fake generosity.
If I was given RM100 after 5 years, it simply means I was given 0.05 cents a day. (RM100 divided by 1825 days, which is 5 years).
Make it to 0.10 cent because I have got two kids (0.05 cents multiply with 2).
What can I possibly buy with 0.10 cents in my hand? Nothing, not even a dead maggot from the rubbish dump.
I was treated worst than a beggar. It is an insult and a slap in the face. So I have nothing to be grateful for.
No, I did not even bother to go to the school to collect it. I asked my children to collect the money themselves.
I hate it when people bring politics to the school. It should be a neutral ground, just like a place of worship or the hospital.
My children told me one short man with a big fat belly came to school to distribute the money to the students. Parents were invited for the ceremony and according to my children, only about 10 parents bothered to come to get the money from him. The rest do not bother. They have more important things to do, I guess. He want to see me to buy my vote but too bad, I do not want to see him. I prefer to take a cat nap at home instead.
“Don’t look down on this RM100,” the short man with big fat belly told the children.
“You kids here are very lucky to be given RM100 each. Back in those days, kids were not given any money, right?” he turned around to look at the teachers for answers. Some smiled, some kept quiet, some nodded.
“RM100 is very big money and can get you loads and loads of stuff, right?” he tried to impress the young audience. No one answer him.
“We are traveling in a big and comfortable ship with a capable and caring captain. But some naughty people wanted to create mischief,” he warned. “So, go home and tell your parents to vote wisely, to vote for continuity…..” he blahed on.
“What else did he said?” I asked my two young informants.
“He blahed and blahed on but I was not interested in what he was saying, so I didn’t give him any more attention. We were all busy chatting away,” my daughter said of the students at the canteen that day.
“Put the money away into your piggy bank,” I instructed my children.
“Oh no, we can’t,” my daughter objected. “By next week, we have to pay up to the clubs and societies that we have joined in school. RM100 is not enough. Daddy have to dig into his own pockets to make up the difference,” she pointed out.
Ah, another classical example of “right hand gives, left hand takes back,” I said smilingly to her.
We all have a good laugh.