SEPTEMBER 12 — "There are nine OKU children and 11 accompanying adults,” she explains to the bus driver with a natural blend of clarity and assuredness. This September morning Persatuan Kanak-Kanak Istimewa Hulu Langat (PKKI-Hulu Langat Children with Disabilities Association) were on their way to the MRT station.

It took a while to board everybody. OKU Smile concession cards presented to the driver one by one, and they filed into the empty seats waiting for them.

For by then, without any instruction or goading, those already in the bus shuffled to the back and out of the way for the 20 new arrivals. They understood, including myself. What impressed me was that all these strangers organised themselves with minimum fuss for the PKKI delegation. The bus neatly seated all, just. The old, young, colourful and the dour in sandals — that’s me.

The Alam Jaya bus-stop near the 7-Eleven is mayhem during peak hours. Taxis park haphazardly to exploit electronically disconnected foreigners, refugees and the elderly.

The bus is forced to clog both lanes. Yet, other motorists did not honk. They can see the VIP commuters and oblige. They too understood.

Meanwhile inside the bus, the leader, the middle-aged lady, monitored the children and their respective caregivers, while engaged in banter with her colleagues. Being glum does not aid the cause.

One parent was asked to put away her son’s phone by the leader, who then reminded the other parents that children in transit did not require their phones.

Perhaps too strict but then again, I realised one misplaced phone can lead to unnecessary stress to find it while seeking to keep all the other children — from as young as six to 15, as I could make out their ages — still, in a public space.

In PKKI’s website, readers are informed that their purpose is to train children and caregivers to live in society, therefore capacity development, integration and broad awareness are equally important. Daily challenge notwithstanding, they remain ambitious.

That’s life-affirming.

Consider how even a short ride is start-stop and they slow things down to avoid mistakes. What takes others 10 minutes is a much longer routine for them.

Granted they’d lose it sometimes, each one of them, but to stay positive and on mission almost all other times is a testament of their resolve and character.

The fallen to his flat

A month ago, I stopped for a red light in Taman Len Seng. It’s a nuisance, this intersection. This set of traffic lights’ single purpose is to enable access for a gated community to an inside artery of an expansive part of Cheras. Barely anyone gets out or in after 10pm and it is now 1am. Us idling benefits no one.

This time it harms someone.

I hear a crash to my left. I did not see it, but I heard through it. A motorcyclist absent minded about the stop evades waiting cars and hits the side divider. Bruised body on the road, of an intoxicated senior citizen.

All four riders and one riding pillion in and around the crash got off to help. When I parked and joined the abruptly assembled committee, they were already in action mode.

Damaged motorcycle moved to a safe spot, helmet retrieved and inebriated man aided to his feet. They pore through his wallet to get his address.

The only female present — the one riding backseat — speaks softly and tells him not to ride when drunk. We geolocated his flat home to be 800 metres down the same road.

A young man readies his bike and the rest help mount him to the back. Rider tells the old man, "Uncle, hold me properly.” Another follows them, to ensure they get to the flat safely.

All this within 10 minutes of the crash.

They were ready to act, ready to make things better.

It’s just TikTok

Three years ago, I wrote about sending my friend Ah Kit to the airport.

He was stranded in KL after his second stroke in 2021, away from his family in Thailand. With the pandemic ongoing, travel for even able-bodied people was complicated.

He could not go from his hospital bed to the airport. He had to recuperate three months, to get strong enough for the airline staff to permit him to board.

Ah Kit can walk now, for limited periods in a day. It is still therapy, cocktail of medicines, acupuncture and doctors to win back his body; a daily battle.

However, he has a TikTok channel (ABC 123 Podcast with Allan Foo). His way to share his rehabilitation, experiences with his disability and food fetish — a life-long obsession.

He helps others with his stories which helps him.

Forgive him for his bad dancing, this one he developed throughout his teenage years, nothing to do with his ongoing medical predicaments.

It is our fortnight

What do a bus trip, motorcycle fall and a minor TikTok celebrity wannabe have in common?

Maybe nothing.

The period between Merdeka and Malaysia Day is a time of reflection. Seventeen days of introspection is long. But we are a combination of multicultural and geographical peculiarities with a stunted national identity. Malaysians can use the annual window to think deeper about their country.

Yet, this coming weekend is only memorable to all for the holiday, commemorating it is far from the consciousness of most. The news lacks celebration, lacks excitement for the country.

Yesterday, I read they found a skeleton in a city apartment. Presumably deceased four years ago at the onset of the pandemic. His son came looking for him a wee bit too late.

It only gets sadder.

However, to witness the resilience of a community determined to reintegrate itself into wider society despite disabilities, despite prejudices in one side of Cheras, is humbling and awe-inspiring.

To witness complete strangers post-haste bring home a hurt man without needing a thank you at the other end of Cheras, reminded me of the continued resilience prevalent around us. It is ready when called upon, just as how all kinds of Malaysians came out to aid others during the pandemic.

To walk while Ah Kit undergoes a whole regiment just to be a fraction as mobile, is painful to compare. Somehow, he finds the will despite his own predicament to open up about this journey. This is resilience which builds resilience.

These remind me Malaysia is fighting for itself daily through the determination of its people to stay above prescribed limitations.

If individual Malaysians can exhibit personal and private resilience without reward or recognition, I believe all of it adds up in the "Yay Malaysia” total.

I have not worked out the math, so yes, call it pseudoscience — the polite way to say, not science.

But I have a feeling it adds up in the right way, for Malaysia.

Selamat Hari Malaysia.

* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.