Sunday, May 02, 2004
Just woke up and smelt no roses.
How can you sleep three point five hours, to two significant figures, and still be able to use the word significant in a sentence?
Many versions of the Kampung Ovai National Service Lost in Jungle fiasco have been circulating on the Net, the printed media, and the avid IRC community. Granted, it's a great effort at spreading the Good News, but let's put it this way, they all share one similarity - ALL THESE PEOPLE WERE NOT LOST IN THE JUNGLE.
I was.
Lame punchline, but then, I digress.
To begin in a most kitschy fashion, I still remember it like it was yesterday.
It was a routine expedition up a well-paved, well-oiled circular route that started and ended at the campsite. The trainers were confident to the brim. It was a mere formality, the first jungle expedition (to use the term "expedition" rather loosely). The path was practically an unpaved highway through dipterocarp jungle. It was wide enough to fit a marauding army AND their armoured elephants. In fact, as one trainer audaciously put it, "sempat balik minum petang tu."
As expected, half the camp couldn't be bothered to bring their water flasks. The other half couldn't e bothered to drink from said flask. The other half were ex-army men who, proudly, couldn't be bothered to bring ANYTHING at all. Not even an extra canister of water or a torchlight in case a solar eclipse suddenly transpired. Oh well...
Oops, I wonder what three halves add up to.
Many intermittent stops were made, presumably so all could start drinking from water canisters, thus reducing extra weight. Each time a stop was made, boys would remark where the girls were. And the girls would remark where the boys were. And both contingents would wonder where each other were and gleefully remind each other they were ahead. And both contingents were kept remarkably happy by the turn of events.
Soon, by five, the sky was shedding a few shades of crimson, and it was obvious "minum petang" would be a Kitchen Staff only party, for we were barely halfway through the route. Sadly, we learned of that turn of events in bad shape. Freddy had removed his appendix barely weeks before and was groaning in pain all the way. No sweat, we reckoned. After all, boys don't cry.
No, they just collapse in agony JUST at the exact moment the paramedic chooses to disappear. Frantic moments ensued as me, Jeremy, Yap, and all the Camp P33 inhabitants (quirky naming convention here: P stands for Kem Lelaki and L stands for Kem Perempuan. Go figure.) huddled around hurling abusive language at the non-existent staff member. Soon, he appeared, with a few jungle scouts (one William Kibin). Now they had the street (or in this case, path) smarts. They set to work building a stretcher out of tree trunks, roots, and natural whatnot. Soon, Freddy was safe and sound on a stretcher...and guess who had to carry him ALL the way back to the campsite.
With a grunt and a heave-ho, we moved in shifts. The people of P33 are VERY nice. All brawn and tans but with hearts of gold. We transported Freddy's stretcher in shifts...until our shortcut.
It seems the askar were worried we'd not make it back to camp on time if we took the big route. Therefore, they, against all tenets of common sense, forced us down a shortcut. DUMB AND DUMBER, LADIES.
My point is:
- Why NOT turn back? If we had turned back and retraced our original footsteps we would have got back to camp with ample bathing time to spare. Put simply, we came uphill, so we'd return downhill, and you don't need rocket science to tell that it's faster. Also, this time, going back would be so much more familiar, so we'd move faster. If that isn't enough to convince you, hell, the added IMPETUS of going back before dark can move any trainee faster.
Three point five hours is suddenly shutting my eyelids faster than you can carve eyelid on a pumpkin. I'm sleepy and the hour hand of the clock already seems to move faster than the minute hand and the second hand is reaching out and playing kaleidoscopes with my eyes and wait that's not a clock that's...
...A slip of the tongue.
I'll continue tomorrow.
