jungle railway

"the free time allowed me to pursue what became two of my favourite hobbies on robben island: gardening and tennis."

- nelson mandela

it was a long weekend in singapore. friday was a public holiday. labour day. it should be labour week. goddamn eastern work ethic. so i went to malaysia. the north east part. by train. i am really starting to subscribe to frank’s passion for trains. he loves trains. if he was a poet he would write poems about trains.

on a warm summer’s evening
on a train bound for nowhere

the journey was epic. a fourteen hour train love-in. i woke up in the morning. brushed my teeth. had a leak. hopped into a taxi. jumped on a fast ferry. and touched down on long beach, perhentian island. lonely planet’s number one pick of things to do in malaysia.

now tropical beaches are nice. palm trees. and white sand. and glassy blue water. and small colourful fish. and shit. but they’re all the fucking same. the whole world over. i wanna see some waves man. huge fucken swells. and sharks. the real mean fuckers. and scando’s. gimme some hot-ass scando’s. a tropical beach just doesn’t cut it if there aren’t dozen’s of topless swedes sucking cone-shaped ice lollies. the one’s that melt and dribble down your chin. sticky as shit. attracts ants. and flys. swarms of the bastards.

if i was a musician i would write songs about scando's. that's how much i love them. i attempted to write a song about scando’s on the island. cos there was nothing else to do. and i was missing them. but no luck. it will happen though. one day.

this world’s an ugly place
but you’re so beautiful to me

so i read mandela’s book. the long walk to freedom. didn’t realise he was such a left-wing militant fucker. always assumed he was the black gandhi. an eye for an eye and the whole world would be blind. but apparently not. can’t really blame him. he was married to winnie for three decades. sure to turn anyone into an edgy bastard. ready to unleash some violence.

it’s a long book. it took me the whole weekend to finish. then i left the island. sleeper train was fully booked. poor planning. or karma. so stayed over in kota bharu. islamic capital of malaysia. deep melodic praise to allah swam across the sunset. have no idea what it means. but i fuckin love that shit. very soulful. reminds you of the sky. and that everything’s gonna be alright.

so i hopped on the "jungle railway" train at 4am. the first six hours were kiff. the camaraderie of jungle people amuses me. what the fuck do they talk about? nothing happens. ever. they’re in the middle of the goddamn jungle. but they sure can ramble. and the jungle kids. they love trains. it’s like the highlight of the fucken decade when a train pulls through their shanty town. poor fuckers.

the last ten hours were not kiff. they were kak. i ran out of food and water and reading material and ipod battery. and then the aircon packed up. and the fuckers behind started eating. chlop. chlop. chlop. i’m all for bushy beards and free hugs t-shirts and jesus sandles. peace and love. but fuck me, when people start eating chlop chlop chlop it drives me fucken insane. fuck the forgiving feminine values, i wanna open a can of nietzsche whupass on the fuckers. do some real fucken damage. you know?

love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. if someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. if someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. do to others as you would have them do unto you.