FONG MUNTOH : FATHER OF AGED CARE BUSINESS OPERATIONS AND ADVOCATOR OF AGEING WITH DIGNITY

INFRASTRUKTUR MALAYSIA TIDAK MESRA USIA – BAHKAN UNTUK WARGA EMAS AKTIF SEKALIPUN

INFRASTRUKTUR MALAYSIA TIDAK MESRA USIA – BAHKAN UNTUK WARGA EMAS AKTIF SEKALIPUN

Oleh Fong Muntoh

Penuaan bukan satu kecacatan. Namun, di Malaysia, landskap fizikal kita seolah-olah menganggapnya begitu. Walaupun kita sering bercakap tentang "penuaan aktif" dengan bangga, realitinya infrastruktur yang ada langsung tidak menyokong gaya hidup tersebut. Daripada papan tanda kecil dan samar di pusat beli-belah hingga ke lantai yang licin dan jalan tidak rata, warga emas aktif masih lagi diketepikan—secara halus tapi nyata.

Ini bukan sekadar isu kerusi roda atau keuzuran. Ini tentang bagaimana warga berumur 50-an, 60-an, dan 70-an—yang masih sihat, aktif dan berdikari—turut dipinggirkan hanya kerana kita membina ruang awam dengan hanya orang muda dalam fikiran. Sudah tiba masanya kita bersuara.

Tulisan Terlalu Kecil, Masalah Terlalu Besar

Cuba jalan-jalan di hotel, pusat membeli-belah atau hospital di Malaysia. Cuba baca papan tanda arah. Jika anda berumur 40-an atau 50-an dan sudah mula memanjangkan tangan untuk baca menu, anda tahu apa saya maksudkan. Saiz huruf terlalu kecil, dan warnanya pula samar—perak atas latar beige, kelabu atas putih. Nampak ‘elegan’ bagi pereka grafik, tapi menyeksakan bagi mata warga emas.

Apabila umur meningkat, pupil mata mengecil dan kanta jadi kurang jernih. Kita perlukan cahaya lebih terang dan kontras lebih jelas. Jika seseorang terpaksa merenung, condong kepala, atau guna lampu suluh hanya untuk cari tandas atau pintu keluar, itu tanda kita sudah gagal.

Lantai Yang Menjerat

Satu lagi masalah besar—lantai. Bukan sekadar jalan berlubang atau jubin pecah (yang memang banyak). Tetapi jubin licin yang berkilat, permukaan batu kasar yang tidak rata, atau perbezaan aras lantai yang tidak ditandakan langsung.

Satu tergelincir boleh mengubah hidup seseorang warga emas. Tapi punca bukan selalu fizikal—kadang kala lantai yang tidak mesra. Reka bentuk yang cuai menjadikan lantai sebagai musuh, bukan sokongan.

Rampa, Pemegang & Reka Bentuk Yang Prihatin

Ramai sangka bina rampa sudah cukup. Tapi bagaimana pula dengan pemegang tangan di tangga, tempat duduk rehat di koridor panjang, atau eskalator yang kerap rosak tanpa pilihan lif? Warga emas mungkin tidak perlukan kerusi roda, tetapi mereka perlukan sokongan.

Satu pemegang tangan boleh membezakan antara keyakinan dan ketakutan, antara berdikari dan bergantung.

Dari Umur 40 ke 80 – Infrastruktur Perlu Tua Bersama Kita

Kita tidak tiba-tiba "jadi tua" pada usia 70. Penuaan berlaku secara berperingkat. Dari umur 40-an lagi, penglihatan, keseimbangan dan tindak balas sudah mula berubah.

Seseorang pada umur 45 mungkin mula perlukan cermin mata membaca. Umur 55, mereka mula elak memandu waktu malam. Umur 65, mereka semakin bergantung pada pencahayaan yang baik. Sepatutnya kita bina persekitaran yang mengikuti perubahan ini—bukan tunggu hingga berlaku kecederaan.

Reka Bentuk Mesra Usia Bukan Kos Tambahan

Reka bentuk mesra usia bukan kebajikan. Ia perancangan negara yang bijak. Menjelang 2040, Malaysia dijangka menjadi masyarakat super-tua, dengan lebih 14% penduduk berumur 65 tahun ke atas.

Ciri-ciri mesra warga emas seperti papan tanda besar, pencahayaan sekata, lantai anti-gelincir, tempat duduk rehat—semuanya tidak mahal. Yang penting ialah niat dan kesedaran dalam reka bentuk.

Kos Tidak Bertindak

Bila infrastruktur kita menafikan hak bergerak warga emas, kita sebenarnya memaksa mereka untuk duduk di rumah, menyendiri dan akhirnya kurang menyumbang kepada masyarakat dan ekonomi.

Kita sering bangga bahawa kita masyarakat berteraskan keluarga. Tapi keluarga juga perlukan ruang awam yang menyokong semua peringkat umur.

Sudah Masa Kita “Nampak”

Malaysia sudah banyak capai dalam bidang kesihatan warga emas. Tapi perjuangan ini bukan hanya di hospital atau pusat jagaan. Ia juga di tandas awam, stesen LRT, dan kaki lima. Dalam setiap elemen harian—kita boleh pilih untuk menyokong atau menyisihkan.

Penuaan aktif tak patut jadi cabaran. Ia patut jadi norma yang disokong oleh ruang kita.

Sudah masa infrastruktur kita pakai cermin mata. Supaya ia boleh “nampak” dengan lebih jelas.

Siapa Saya

Fong Muntoh merupakan pengusaha kanan dalam bidang penjagaan warga emas dengan pengalaman lebih 25 tahun. Beliau adalah rakyat Malaysia pertama yang diiktiraf sebagai Pakar Operasi Penjagaan Warga Emas oleh Kementerian Sumber Manusia. Beliau kini mengetuai Komune Care Centre, dan aktif dalam memperjuangkan hak, maruah dan kehidupan bermakna bagi warga emas di Malaysia.

From Strength to Grace — A Personal Sharing

I want to share something that’s been stirring in me lately—something that speaks not just to where we are in life, but who we are becoming. It’s this idea of moving from strength to grace.

You see, I remember what it felt like to be strong. I remember the days when I could carry my children in one arm and groceries in the other. I remember making decisions at work, running around without needing to sit down every few minutes, being the one others leaned on.

Strength used to feel like certainty. Like control. Like something I could depend on. But these days… things have changed.

Now, the stairs feel a bit steeper. My memory, well—it sometimes takes the scenic route before arriving at the right name. I forget what I walked into a room for. I find myself needing help more often. And you know what? That’s not weakness. That’s the beginning of grace.

I used to think grace was only for the times I messed up. But I’ve come to see it’s also for the times I slow down. Grace shows up when I stop trying to prove I’m still the same. It meets me in the letting go. And maybe that’s the point—we spend the first part of life building, doing, holding everything together. Then we reach a point where God says, Now let Me hold you.

It’s not easy. I’ll be honest—I don’t always like being on the receiving end. I’ve always been the giver, the planner, the caregiver. And now, someone’s helping me up the stairs, driving me to the clinic, reminding me of dates and appointments. And I have to bite back the instinct to say, No, no, I’ve got this.

But grace whispers, It’s okay. You’ve carried others long enough. Let yourself be carried.

There’s a verse in Isaiah that comforts me: “Even to your old age and grey hairs I am He, I am He who will sustain you.”

It reminds me that I’m not forgotten. Not left behind. And neither are you. We’re not just the people we used to be—we are the people we are still becoming. Grace doesn’t stop working when our hands stop building. It begins to deepen in our hearts. In our stories. In our presence.

And maybe that’s one of the gifts of growing older—we have time to look back. To reflect. To say, God was good then. And He’s still good now. We have stories that carry the fingerprints of His faithfulness. And now, we get to pass that on.

Not through sermons or lectures, but through the way we live. Through how we forgive. How we smile. How we sit beside someone who’s grieving and simply stay. That, too, is ministry. That is grace in motion.

And when I think of what’s ahead—of heaven, of going home—I don’t feel fear like I used to. There’s a peace now. A quiet trust. The kind that only comes when you’ve seen God come through again and again and again.

So yes, the muscles may soften. The pace may slow. But the soul—it ripens. And the spirit—it shines.

We are not in decline. We are in transformation.

We are moving from strength to grace.

And grace, my dear friends, is where God does His best work.

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The Common Enemy

The Common Enemy

I didn’t realise I was the enemy until my son was about six.

At first, I thought I was doing alright as a parent. I had the whole routine running like clockwork—mealtimes, no snacks before dinner, bedtime by nine. I was the CEO of Structure and the Minister of Discipline.

And then my father-in-law moved in with us.

Now, let me say this: I respect the man. He’s wise, experienced, a man of few words. But somehow, he managed to completely unravel my parenting without saying a single sentence to me.

It started small. I told my son, “No ice cream, you’re coughing.”

That evening, I saw the two of them sitting side by side in the kitchen, happily sharing a tub of Walls. My father-in-law even gave him the last bite. I walked in, raised my eyebrows, and he just gave me a blank look like, “Ice cream? What ice cream?”

The next day, I told my son to finish his homework before TV. Ten minutes later, I found him watching cartoons while my father-in-law was asleep on the couch beside him—remote control still in his hand.

And that’s when I realised.

They had formed an alliance.

It wasn’t official—no handshakes, no terms and conditions—but it was strong, silent, and effective. Whenever I put down a rule, my son would run to Grandpa. Grandpa would give a little nod, a biscuit, maybe a story from the 1960s, and suddenly I was the unreasonable one.

I had become the common enemy.

It was like they were both united in a secret resistance. Not violent—just gently subversive. Like how England does sarcasm. Or how church aunties ask, “Why you look so tired?” when they actually mean “You look terrible.”

At first, I was annoyed. I thought, “Eh, I’m trying to raise a decent human being here. A responsible, polite, sugar-regulated child.” But slowly, something shifted.

One night, I walked past the room and saw them reading together. My son was curled up next to his grandfather, giggling at some old joke about rubber trees and kampung chickens. My father-in-law was doing the voices, laughing like a child himself. And I realised—this wasn’t rebellion.

It was relationship.

They weren’t teaming up against me. They were teaming up with each other—for something bigger than homework or bedtime. They were building trust. Memories. Love.

And yes, I was the odd one out—but maybe that was okay.

Because maybe that’s the role of a parent sometimes. To set the limits. To say “no” when it’s needed. And maybe—just maybe—grandparents are there to break the rules once in a while, just to show our kids that love can be soft, unexpected, and sweet. Sometimes literally, in the form of a forbidden ice cream cone.

So yes, for a while I was the enemy. But I also got to witness something beautiful—a bond that skipped a generation and went straight to the heart.

And one day, if I’m lucky, I’ll be the grandfather handing out biscuits behind someone else’s back.

God has a funny way of teaching us grace. Sometimes through sermons. Sometimes through Scripture.

And sometimes... through two conspirators on the couch, eating ice cream in silence.