So why did I smoke in the first place?

Hmm. Another good cepu emas question. Before I answer it, let’s take a look at these facts.
1. About half of Malaysian men smoke.
2. Every day, about 50 teenagers below the age of 18 start smoking.
3. Studies show about 30% of adolescent boys smoke.
4. Smoking rates are highest in rural Kelantan and lowest in urban Penang and Sarawak.
(Source: http://www.quitspeed.com/)

Okay, these findings could well explain about my initial exploration into the smoking dreamland. But, here is the actual story of my smoking life.

The Beginning

It began when I was 18 years old. Sweet 18. As a fresh SPM leaver, it was a high time for inquisitive experimentations and fun-searching. It was the moment when I started to visualize the pleasure of smoking. It had nothing to do with peer pressure. As a matter of fact, no one influenced me. I was alone at home when the hazardous smoke started to colonize my bodily territories. To make it worse, I stole my auntie’s cigarettes. Ah, what a haram start.

Ohok! Ohok! Ohok!

Clichéd start. My body knew that it was poisonous so it rejected the smoke pretty harshly. But smoking was good. Goooooood. I agree that, ever since then, I smoked to fit in with the social settings – my ever stylish smoking friends. However, those cigarettes possessed more mystical power than any other paranormal devices – they were nostalgically addictive. For all the money, time and energy wasted, I kept on smoking because I felt good most of the time. Whenever I smoked, it was like going back to a beautiful unfounded place. Of course, I would never find this unfounded place because, if I had gotten closer to it, I would have possibly died of a critical lung cancer.

My point here, the way I see it now, smoking is more than just putting those damned cigarettes and sucking the delusional smoke. There are some queer reasons for many people to keep filling in their bodies with tar, nicotine and carbon monoxide. There are multi-layered explanations for the progress of this Marlboro Country.

In Kelantan, it is quintessentially political. I still remember that when I was young, I used to see this bizarre cacophony during a general election.

“Nah, take these three cartons of Dunhill’s. Khijo bbena deh! (work harder okay!),” my father, a branch leader, said to a group of young and old men working dutifully for him at night at one of the party's headquarters.
The tired men scampered into the maroon boxes, smoked religiously, smiled and said to my father: “Thank you Ustaz. Allahu akbar!”

Yes, for many people, smoking is part of smart strategies to attain a place in a society. My cousin, who was a genius mathematics teacher, was not a smoker, but he had to pretend that he was one of them. I knew his little secret – he drew a little puff into his mouth and exhaled immediately, without inhaling the smoke into his lung. He was playing it safe. While trying very hard to establish the accepted image that he was part of the smoking community, he managed to protect his health. Although he possibly knew that smoking was haram, he couldn’t simply say to those villagers the much desired: “Stop smoking, you stupid folks! It is fucking haram!” Oh, no no no. That would be politically incorrect. So he ended up protecting the classic act – smoking involuntarily and safely. How brilliant!

Gaya. Mutu. Keunggulan.

The Ending

I tried to quit smoking few times, but it was to no avail. At times, I felt lost. Was it nicotine? Maybe. Then, I decided to stop smoking again 29 days ago. No one influenced me - I made the decision by myself ( just like when I decided to explore into the wonders of smoke 12 years ago). I was extremely determined this time around. I kept saying to myself that I was really going to make it real. Apparently, as a practising Muslim, I have to obey to what had been declared by the respected Ulama – Smoking is Haram (unlawful) in Islam. Nonetheless, this was not the chief reason for my decision to quit smoking.

I was thinking, if I could get rid of those tempting foods in my dietary struggle, why couldn’t I just resist the harmless stick of cigarettes? And I am aging. So, why should I keep damaging my body? It is the time to shift the paradigm. It is enough. Enough is enough. It is time to say to those cigarettes: “No! Been there! Done that! Thank you and Good Night babe!”

There’s another eerie justification. I refuse to die so early. Dawned with realization, I have lately been so conscious of my future life, as if I have just been given new eyes and a new perspective of life. And I don’t want to miss the opportunities to see the world when life is about to begin.

Whatever the reasons, there could never be anyone on this earth who would agree that smoking is good for health. Those who agree are either bored to death or working for the tobacco companies, taking other people’s lives all the way to the bank.

So, why do people keep smoking? Because they are living in denial. Death? No way, they won’t get me.

Good dog.

Labels: cekmi's true colours