Retro: Power Cuts, Food Shortages and the Spirit of Healing Jerejak

 Title: Power Cuts, Food Shortages, and the Spirit of Healing Jerejak

The Jerejak Island Resort was without electricity for three full days recently—right over Christmas, no less—thanks to an idiot who managed to slice through an underground electric cable while laying pipelines. It happened during peak season, when the resort was fully booked. Ill-prepared to face the crisis, the management scrambled. But by the time our holy national power supplier, TNB, got a generator running, the damage had already been done. Angry guests packed up and left.

And just when we thought things couldn’t get worse, today I was told the resort ran out of food supplies. Once again, more disgruntled guests walked out. We’ve had one mishap after another in recent weeks—what next, I wonder?

Still, strangely enough, I find myself looking forward. I’ve got this persistent feeling that I’m meant to grab the bull—or the devil—by the horns and deal with it. When I spoke to the boss recently, I told him I see myself not just as an employee but as a healer. Not of people necessarily, but of the place itself—of Jerejak.

Looking back, I’ve noticed that I always seem to end up working in places teetering on the edge of collapse, and somehow, I help them find their balance. One such place was H & H Ship Services on China Basin, San Francisco. Another was the Green Gulch Zen Center—I’d like to think I had a small hand in helping it realign itself during a time of upheaval.

In Malaysia, too, my quiet methods have helped smoothen tense situations, iron out wrinkles, and just make things flow a little better for everyone involved. I never consciously try to “fix” things; I just show up, pay attention, and try to ease the weight.

Now, Jerejak. This resort is going to be a monumental challenge. It’ll take nothing short of a miracle to turn this struggling hospitality operation around. The biggest hurdle? Attitude.

The workers are not lazy—they’re hardworking, many of them. But they don’t work together. There’s a serious lack of communication between departments. Too many egos in too small a space. Too many people walking around like the resort would fall apart without them. The true spirit of hospitality—the sense of service—has yet to take root here.

Then again, what do I really know? I’m new to the job myself. And Jerejak isn’t known for its natural beauty as much as it is for its dark past—as a former leper colony and detention center for drug offenders. There are ghosts here, and not just metaphorical ones. Maybe this place needs a cleansing, a spiritual reboot. Maybe it needs a shaman, not a manager.

Whatever it takes, the task won’t be easy. The bull won’t just lay down and let itself be turned into a burger. And the devil will not go quietly. But I’ve made peace with that. My role here—whether temporary or long-term—is to help clean things up, to bring a little light where there’s been too much shadow.

Tough words for a Cheeseburger Buddha, I know. But words born of experience, frustration, and stubborn hope