THE past one month has been a very traumatic and sinful one for me. I feel awfully ashamed about all the lies that I have told. I don’t think I can continue with this immorality.
Everyone has at least one secret and has probably lied a few times, or sometimes more than our politicians.
Then, there are diabetic patients during durian season. They lie to everyone.
This bumper season, dubbed the Durian Tsunami, may have been the best news for most Malaysians who don’t run durian plantations. But that’s not the case for us diabetics.
It’s already tough having to control the intake of nasi lemak, mee goreng, roti canai, teh tarik, and chicken rice, among other Malaysian delights. Durian season is pure hell.
To be fair, most diabetics are remarkably disciplined people. They count carbohydrates with military precision, decline sugary drinks with admirable resolve, and can identify the glycaemic index of food faster than most of us can identify our Cabinet line-up.
But unfortunately, self-discipline has never been my strong point. I am nothing but a weak soul who gives in to temptations, especially food, easily.
With durians, I cannot even stop to think. I lie to myself continuously. This season’s durian season is a clear example of Lucifer at work in wanting to destroy all of us decent Malaysians.
Or maybe it’s the Zionists – or even Singaporeans who can’t grow durians and have manipulated the market. Or, as politicians like to claim, maybe someone is just jealous of Malaysia and its people.
Any which way, this year’s durian glut has indeed turned Malaysia into one giant temptation.
Every roadside has become a pop-up durian carnival. Every petrol station seems to have acquired a stall.
Every neighbourhood chat group suddenly has a self-appointed “durian dealer” announcing, “Fresh Musang King just arrived!”
One late evening, a church-
going friend sent me a text message. He asked if a diabetic could eat durians.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“In that case, I guess I should not be eating,’’ he replied sheepishly.
“But as a fellow diabetic, I have to tell you that I am buying durians,” I told him.
“Oh! In that case, I will go and buy now, I trust you. I will eat moderately,’’ he said, seemingly delighted with my answer.
He was even more convinced when I told him I have been eating moderately. Of course I lied, but I knew he wanted to hear that.
And then, he asked me: “Please don’t tell my wife.”
This lousy scourging husband is now cheating on his wife. His wife must be an idiot not to know what he has been doing in the late night, what with his foul-smelling burps.
Like any good God-fearing Christian, I won’t snitch on him. Especially when I need him to do the same for me.
The problem is not eating durian. It’s that we never stop at one. Nobody stops at one. The “satu ulas” or one seed is merely the opening ceremony.
By the third seed, you’re discussing flavour notes like a wine connoisseur who knows the location of the best vineyards.
“This one has hints of caramel. A slight bitterness, that’s why it’s called XO.
“This one is a bit dry, it must be Black Thorn. From Penang only, you know, they have hilly areas conducive for such trees.”
“Musang King is my preference. New world trees but still good lah. Excellent finish today.”
By the sixth seed, you’re contemplating whether it would be socially acceptable to lick the husk or put salt water on it. And the lying begins.
“We can eat durians as much as we can but must take care of our health. Come, come, must put warm water into husks and add some salt, to cool ourselves down, OK?”
One more thing Ah Boy, don’t go and drink liquor after this, must always take care of our health.
But it’s hard to cheat the doctor, no matter how much we postpone our medical check-ups, especially with the blood test.
The blood test does not care for dramatic acting. The HbA1c result arrives with the brutal honesty of a Malaysian auntie. There is no need for a forensic check.
The doctor, meanwhile, isn’t convinced that I have been eating durians moderately.
“Doctor, I know durians have high sugar but it is also a fruit with vitamins and healthy fats, like salmon mah,” I protested. Bad mistake.
The doctor gave me a stern stare that would put Judge Collin Lawrence Sequeira – who presided over the 1MDB case – to shame. The doctor didn’t have to pronounce the guilty sentence.
I could almost hear him say, almost like Sequeira in his judgment, the “sheer scale of the durian plunder that took place made Attila the Hun look like a choirboy in comparison”.
Nobody has ever eaten 2kg of salmon while standing beside the road saying, “Just one more piece”.
I hope the durian tsunami will be over soon. Fat hope. Some people say it will continue until August. The torment and torture will go on.
No amount of mint chewing can erase the unmistakable perfume of durian. It lingers in the car, on your fingers, in the refrigerator – and on your conscience.
I will continue to utter the dirty four words – not four letters – “just one more seed”.
And that, dear readers, is the biggest lie of durian season – besides, of course, the politicians’ “I promise to serve’.’
National Journalism Laureate Datuk Seri Wong Chun Wai is the chairman of Bernama. The views expressed here are solely the writer’s own.
Wong Chun Wai
Wong Chun Wai began his career as a journalist in Penang, and has served The Star for over 35 years in various capacities and roles. He is now group editorial and corporate affairs adviser to the group, after having served as group managing director/chief executive officer. On The Beat made its debut on Feb 23 1997 and Chun Wai has penned the column weekly without a break, except for the occasional press holiday when the paper was not published. In May 2011, a compilation of selected articles of On The Beat was published as a book and launched in conjunction with his 50th birthday. Chun Wai also comments on current issues in The Star.
