KLILF 2007: Reflections of a long distance truck driver

KLILF 2007 is finally over. I was feeling like a truck driver after his last delivery at the end of a 7000-mile journey with no co-driver, only an attendant, as I sat alone in the Kopi Thiam staring into the kopi-o-kow. "At least the customers are happy." And I don't have a 7000-mile drive back.

The second one will be easier, they all said. After all you have already organised one. The sponsors will be queuing up.

Six weeks before the event I get a call, "Is it true that the Lit Fest has been cancelled?" Four weeks before the event we have thirty participants and zero sponsors. Only the registration fees paid up. There was no coverage in any of the media. I am wondering if we will have enough money to print fliers. Posters? Too late for that. We must push ahead. "Don't worry, it will fall in place." Right.

Quite a few weeks worth of sleep has already been lost.

Then we get the first cheque. Not much, but it will have to be enough. Enough gas to get the truck to the destination if we coasts downhill and get down and push it in the flat areas. The media launch is held at the cost of used shoelaces. The event is part-sponsored (and rescued) by Dato' Shahrizat. (She has no idea how desperate we were. Rumours were running around that we had raised millions.) The media came in numbers for the launch, but all they were interested in was the news about the 800 non-virgin schoolgirls. (What can you say? Malaysian journalism.)

Then stories started appearing in some newspapers. More participants inquired and signed up. On the 14th of March we still had only 80 registrations. "Don't worry Malaysians are always late." Try telling that to the truck driver who hasn't slept at all for three months.

15th of March: the phones will not stop ringing, and the emails boxes fill up. One hundred people registered. Then with the help of Rose, another sponsorship cheque is received, ten days before date of delivery. Phew!

Then the badgering starts: goody, goody, goody ... now that you have more and you won't have push the truck, can we have the two elephants ... please, please, please ... and lions ... how about the lions ... four lions at least ... surely there cannot be a show without lions ... all we have now are dogs ... and while you are at it can you pick up the performing Prussian cats ... please, please, please, please, please ...

I cannot believe my ears: "You want me to drive back 6800 miles to pick up your pet Prussian cats in time for the show next week? Where have you been all these months?" I want to kill somebody, and so does my attendant. She wants to do it with flying chopsticks. But we decides that it will have to wait until after our work is done. I simply say that there is no more room in the truck, which is also true. "Why don't you drive back and pick them up? I will deliver them, once you get them for me. I am a little bit busy right now, not that you would have noticed."

Sulk. Sulk is a four-letter word. So is work. And talk. Especially talk.

The truck driver looks at the clouds in his black coffee as he stirs. He wishes he was smoking something.