After the Storm

Many questions that are running through the minds of all Malaysians after the unexpected domino effect  that was the nation’s 12^th general election – the primary question being:

 Will the coalition parties be able to work together?

 It seemed to work on the campaign trail and in the voting booths with Chinese and Indian voters crossing PAS on the ballot sheet and Malay voters voting for DAP –  many for the first time in their voting lives. Indians carrying PAS flags and Malays cheering for DAP wins were unheard of before GE2008. The winds of change swept through the country, pushing Malaysians across the urban and rural divide and leaping past the racial chasms that have kept us apart this past fifty years.  They chose to put aside DAP’s chauvinism and PAS’s fixation on hudud to choose either one or the other instead of BN – the safe, known outcome. The one-on-one bouts spoilt only by Independents sprinkled here and there – helped Malaysians who voted to choose change and with it, hope for the future. Punishing BN was an added plus.

 

Therefore as an acceptance of the  voters’ trust in them  - the coalition parties must be seen to be able to work together at all times. “ Take one step backward, in order to take two steps forward” was a suggested approach. All parties in the coalition must be aware that the media’s stance is to incite distrust and doubt among the people. With fear and doubt, mischief can be created quite easily as tempers are stoked – a perfect recipe for trouble to brew. At the first sign of which, the federal government can declare emergency and move for fresh elections or replace MB’s to be as they did  in Kelantan in 1977 and Sarawak.

 

The public was given assurances that all three parties would work together and they cannot back out now at the first test of an ex-Opposition side. By leaving the choice to the Sultan of Perak, all parties are then bound to abide by the Sultan’s decision. If they wanted to be unanimous– only one name should have been submitted by all parties.

 
The possibility of DAP boycotting the swearing in ceremony of a PAS MB causes warning bells to ring in many Malaysians across the country – some saying “ there!, I told you so”, others regretting their decision to trust in DAP. Some feel that perhaps DAP just needs to put on a show, impress their supporters that they are not anyone’s lapdog but  will revert later being honourable enough to abide by the Sultan’s decision and attend the ceremony together. Later developments showed that a compromise has been hammered out – Exco seats and acceptance of the best man for the job – the PAS rep Ahmad Nizar. While Malays, Chinese and Indians alike  heave a  collective sigh of relief – for the sake of all that we have worked so hard to achieve – let’s not be petty in taking the first step together as Barisan Rakyat – not individual parties, with individual agendas. The country cannot afford to lose faith in the coalition at any time in this coming five years especially in this first momentous step.

So shuck the baggage off, think of the rakyat’s interest and do not squander this opportunity and the momentum generated to put Malaysia back on track.

A Wet Night in USJ 12

The rain dripped down my back as I listened  to the candidate for state seat in Seri Setia, Nik Nazmi Nik Ahmad in Malaysia’s 2008 general election. As his words fought  to be heard amid the pouring rain, I scanned the crowd. I had heard him speak before and found him articulate, intelligent and sincere. But I wanted to see who else thought so- People of all ages huddled under umbrellas trying not to get too wet but definitely staying put and paying attention. The crowd of almost 2000 Chinese and Indians with a smattering of Malays were determined to stay and hear all the speakers especially the star of the night – the DAP head honcho Lim Kit Siang. However, an announcement requesting the audience to leave for their own safety, sent me reluctantly home. As I left the field, the majority of the crowd – mostly those with umbrellas big enough for two – decided to wait out the rain on the muddy field of USJ 12. I walked back slowly through the puddles and ducked other umbrellas and slow-moving cars to get to my car. Luckily I had parked in front of a friendly house because the whole area was packed. I was joined by people both young and old walking back to their houses or cars. We exchanged smiles and “too bad” remarks. My son managed to remind them who to vote for and they responded with smiles and thumbs up.

There was a sense of solidarity among the people standing in the rain on that wet night – we all shared a common frustration at a government that treats us like ignorant children. We were not even allowed to judge for ourselves how good or bad the Opposition as they are not allowed to be heard on mainstream media. We are not capable of judging for ourselves therefore we have to be be told repeatedly to be grateful, reminded to stay on the right track, consider individual acts of kindness as representative of overall good governance. We are asked to ignore the fact that peaceful gatherings are sprayed with tear gas and bathed in chemically-laced water even when there are children, that thousands of ringgit a year are paid by one household in tolls alone (try RM200 /month – RM2400/year, that billions in government funds – our hard-earned money are being poured down the drain to save projects like the Port Klang Free Trade Zone debacle or over-commissioned submarines. These are among the litany of grievances that will affect our future. Whether all the events and examples of corruption, gross neglect and abuse of the systems and the law is enough to form a critical mass to tip the election the other way around – only 8 March 2008 will tell. I worry though at the lack of Malay faces in the crowd – granted it was a DAP Opposition ceramah but the crowd did not reflect the demographics. Would the Malays give in to the fear that has been perpetuated the past 39 years of another 13 May? Would they ignore BN’s excesses and opt for the familiar ? Perhaps they need to be reminded of the following realities:

• Their children need to be competitive on their own merit on the global playing field -an education system that breeds future voters by encouraging conformity and restrict critical thinking and debate have resulted in graduates who are virtually unemployable.
• Islam is a religion of peace and tolerance. Learning and intellectualism have been highly prized in Islam through the ages – the current atmosphere that encourages unthinking, blind obedience rather than an internalisation and practice of the values as well as the rituals bodes ill for future Muslims who do not understand their own religion
• our safety and security cannot be assured if the integrity of the law enforcement agencies and the judiciary is compromised. We have to be able to trust our police force and feel safe when they are around instead of threatened. we must believe that we have a grievance, the courts will be fair to us regardless of our race, religion or status. When we are victims of a crime, we will be protected and the perpetrator caught.
• the land we live in must be developed in a sustainable manner, responsibly not indiscriminately. We need parks and green lungs, places of recreation where families can go without having to pay an entrance fee and condominiums that won’t crack or collapse. We need forests and hills to remain forests and hills for our children to see and enjoy – not be bulldozed or converted into plantations
• Malaysia is a country of such potential – we’ve had a difficult yet dynamic adolescence. Now’s the time for us to blossom into adulthood and handle the challenges that a truly equitable multi-racial society will face with maturity.

As I drove away from USJ 12, the rain had stopped but the cars were still there and so were the people of Subang Jaya who had braved the rain – united in spirit and in hope. Let us hope the tipping point for Malaysia would indeed be March 8 2008 – a date when Malaysia truly grows up.

A Sea of Yellow

 

I went for a walk yesterday, amid the pouring rain accompanied by my best friend and tens of thousands of Malaysians dressed in shades of yellow. A walk of less than three kilometres yet every step I took, striding determinedly side by side with fellow Malaysians  near (Petaling Jaya) and far ( Kelantan, Terengganu even Perak), able and disabled (wheelchair, on crutches  with one leg?? ) made me feel more of a Malaysian than any celebration of our Independence Day.

As we approached KL, yellow shirts tucked safely in a backpack and cover story intact in case we were questioned (” baru balik kerja kilang di Shah Alam, Datuk”),  traffic was  slow moving and only one road was closed . Then the first road block behind KTM – the police ignored us and we managed to park in Dayabumi. At the entrance facing the National Mosque, we put on our yellow shirts and looked around for compatriots – fellow yellows only to be disappointed.. It was almost 3 pm and rain poured steadily. We looked at each other and others sheltering from the rain, wondering whether this had all been hype and the anticipated crowd had dwindled when faced with FRU’s water cannons and tear gas when we caught sight of a straggly crowd in yellow  marching from Dataran Merdeka. We watched, awed as the crowd grew in strength , like an progressively fat yellow column of people of all ages, moving steadily towards the National Palace. Shouts of “Rapat, rapat” came from men dressed in maroon with the word “Unit Amal, Malaysia” written behind their shirts, as they sheparded the crowd along making sure the crowd didn’t obstruct traffic. It was this line of maroon shirts that I saw at the front line between the marchers and the police later in front of the National Palace. (I discovered that they were summoned from Terengganu).

We walked, oblivious to the rain that soaked us to the skin, and the threat of police, tear gas and what can water cannons do when we were already wet!  Ebullient and enthusiastic, we followed the chants of “Bersih, Bersih” and “Hidup, Hidup Rakyat”. I was more hesitant when it came to the takbir and “Hidup Islam” and BN or  UMNO taunts because they were out of place, I felt, in a non-partisan march representing the hopes of all Malaysians for clean elections.  I kept looking back to see how long did this column of people in yellow stretch – it seemed never ending and more seemed to be joining us. The march ended with all of us sitting on the roads that so recently we drove on – a crowd of at the very least 30,000 – not the paltry 4,000 crowd reported by the mainstream media.

We smiled and exchanged stories of how we managed to make it into the city – one drove from Perak, parked at Rawang and came to KL via the commuter train. Others came in buses the night before. Many came via LRT and those from out of town had to face police road blocks to get into the city. There were whole families (couples with siblings and mother in tow),  youths and children too young to vote and Makciks and Pakciks who had valiantly kept up with the crowd. Our stories were tame compared to what our fellow yellows went through in Masjid Jamek and Jalan TAR. The tear gas was fired upon them without any warning to disperse and chemical-laced water from the water cannons caught them full face. The marchers dispersed quickly, avoiding the shower and gas, only to converge again, from behind pillars and out of shops – bursts of yellows that gave heart to others until they converged again and moved towards their  goal, passing out salt among themselves to recover quickly from the gas. 

Twice  gassed and showered, thrice they came back, more determined and resolute, my sisters and brother-in-law among them.

 

Who are they, this group, this honoured few? After all, the memorandum was signed by only “a few thousand people” whose voices are unimportant to the ruling alliance. 30,000 people forming the sea of yellow are a drop in the bucket of 27 million Malaysians. Well, they are concerned citizens who want a better future for their children. Those who were there are disillusioned with the state of affairs of the country as well as those who went along riding on the wave of political rhetoric. Many were first timers – not Reformasi veterans. Many were supporters of the opposition and some were  even UMNO  members.- the middle-class silent majority have in essence spoken with their feet and their presence.  What we all share is a deep sense of urgency of the need to stop the rot that the current election system would reinforce. Even if the current government wins, at least it is by assuredly fair means rather than election results accompanied by a distinct odour of malfeasance.

 

I ended the day in hope only to discover to my dismay that those I met later were unimpressed with the sea of yellow march. What memorandum?  Malaysians are either unconcerned, apathetic or ostrich-like in their regard to swallowing the media version of the march uncritically and unthinkingly. Why should they bother? Their businesses / careers / families/lives are doing fine – in fact they benefit greatly from the current status quo. The fate of others struggling to live their lives honestly, safely and with integrity does not register on their radar. What is voting but an inconvenience to them? Malaysia is just a context for their lives – like a parasite living off their host. When times get tough – their catchword is “Let’s migrate!” I will be the first to wish them goodbye.

 

To those gassed, showered, arrested  and released – I salute your courage and I pray for your safety. Your sacrifice allowed others to see through the façade. I like to think that what matters to my fellow yellows is  the King’s commitment to us as his subjects and the hope that this has shown the powers that be that Malaysian have it within them to control their own destiny. We are not lemmings who will obediently and unquestioningly jump off a cliff just because we are told to do so. Please treat Malaysians with the respect and honour that we deserve as tax payers, citizens and patriots who have learnt the hard lessons of the past, are working to improve the present and will do what it takes for a better Malaysia. – we who choose to stay in this country of our birth..

 

 

 

Merdeka revisited

Shangri-La Putrajaya at midnight, Japanese fireworks lighting up the sky marking fifty years of Independence. Millions of ringgit to create a spectacle for the small group of Malaysians and tourists watching in the aircon comfort of the hotel and the thousands more outside sweating it out along the lake and thoroughfare. It felt strangely sterile, unlike the exuberance and pride I felt last year even as the skies lit up – perhaps because we couldn’t hear the booms – just see the flash and sparks. Almost a mirror to what I felt – Malaysia – all flash and no substance? After the brilliance – darkness  heralds? Harsh I know and I dread to see it coming true.  But all that had happened in this past year sapped the hope and promise I had felt a year ago that we could actually transcend greed and selfishness for a better Malaysia.

The hypocrisy that was latent before (in my naivete) , came into full bloom and is strutting unashamedly in full view of Malaysians and the rest of the world . But we must not criticise, comment or appear to deviate from the party line that requires blind allegience amid the platitudes and lip service to ‘open dialogue’ and ‘democracy’. NATO (No Action Talk Only) seems to be the order of the day in all aspects of Malaysian life. Meanwhile, life rolls merrily along for Malaysians who are cushioned from the harsher realities of life that price hikes, high petrol prices and shrinking purchasing power of the ringgit that others contend with. Not to mention the higher cost of doing business amid an atmosphere that doesn’t seem safe. We surround ourselves with guard dogs, gates and gentlemen paid to stay awake and alert – both my neighbours have acquired canine alarms while I place my faith in the inanimate still.

Our hearts are in our mouths when a loved one gets on an express bus. After all, we have a system that promotes profit over safety and integrity (frequency of runs is rewarded – not a summons-free drive for both bus and lorry drivers) . We reward those who work ’smart’, dress and speak well especially of the powers that be , over those who work hard and are principled. We preach teamwork , shared values and excellence but hand out rewards and accolades to ‘flash in the pan’ shooting stars while ignoring the rest of the team’s contribution ( the TV coverage for the under 23 football striker and his twin who scored one goal in the final game against Myanmar in the Merdeka tournament is a case in point). Hey, we even allow an ex IGP convicted of assaulting a hapless prisoner to give us advice on how to be united! We preach religious tolerance while silently consenting to religious rehabilitation camps. We close our eyes to persistent reports of mismanagement, bailouts, dubious projects on foreign shores and questionable exercise of authority.

Admittedly we do get jolted out of our apathy when a horrific accident occurs whether on the road or in the sky due to a persistent lack of good judgement and follow through. We’d rather not ask ourselves why money could not be allocated for new helicopters until the death toll became intolerable. (But it’s only the lives of our soldiers and airmen we risk – other govt personnel do not use Nuris to get around). Or why  buses with outstanding summonses or considered unroadworthy  are allowed on the road. How about the lack of clean up in the city even with it being Visit Malaysia Year – tourists are snapping hp pix of the garbage piled up in places like Puduraya (Since we insist on keeping a bus terminal in the middle of the city, we can at least work harder at keeping the area clean, can’t we?) But Malaysians have notoriously short memories..Bukit Gantang and the Nuri crash will fade away from our collective consciousness the same way the Highland Towers tragedy  and Karak accident did.

Will what we build now carry us into the future? The question posed in one of Yasmin Ahmad’s Petronas ads for this year’s Merdeka. It is a clever ad – a simple story of a man who wanted to stop building boats for a living and work as a security guard in the city to pay off his debts. His creditor offers a solution – build a boat for him as payment for his debt. The man builds a boat but takes shortcuts, uses inferior material and paints over the defects and old wood. The boat is completed and placed in the water to be handed over. To his surprise, the creditor gives it to him along with an outboard motor and good news of projects that would require a boatman – a gift of opportunity for a better future. He returns jubilant to the jetty, with the motor, only to discover that the boat is sinking, slowly but surely.

So we ask ourselves, have what we built – roads, buildings, financial institutions, education systems, judicial systems organisations, businesses – take us into a brave new world – into the next fifty years or will they fail us, if they haven’t already? Do we have the gumption to roll our sleeves up, drag them into the open and hold it up to scrutiny in order to fix them?

If we had a common value system, share the same goals and work towards the same objective as a nation of people who walk the talk at all stages in our lives, then perhaps I would be optimistic and jubilant on our nation’s birthday. But I sense the hesitance and the fear that the majority of Malaysians emanate – to hold people we elect accountable for how they run the country. We do not enforce any punishment, objection or displeasure at the inequities and inefficiencies. Worse still , we accept their silence and avoidance of critical decisions and actions that demonstrates that we are respected. “Kata tidak dikota” seems to be the norm. For we are afraid of what will happen to us – promotions and pensions withheld, contracts cancelled , demotions, cold storage -  all still mild compared to the ISA and Kamunting. If only the fear could be said to be unfounded.

Another question was raised by the Sun in an issue, as run up to Merdeka – Do we deserve the Independence that our founding fathers fought so hard for? Sometimes I feel as if we are monkeys being given a flower – we have absolutely no appreciation of its beauty and no conception of its fragility. Our youth must have the courage that we lack for they will inherit this country from us, warts and all. So much depends on them rising above the mediocrity and conformity devils that hobble our education system. Perhaps when it comes to their turn, they will cherish and protect it and leave no room for the monkeys .

I may not live to see Malaysia’s centennial, but I pray that I do live to see that with enough prayer, courage and strength Malaysians will reclaim this land from those who seek to colonise our spirits, beliefs and principles. It may not be perfect even then but at least it will be a journey towards the light and not from it. Perhaps, unlike the spectacular fireworks of yesterday, there shall be a sense of fulfilment and shared purpose, even after the flash has died down..

13 May Revisited

  

In the rarefied air and balmy breezes off the

island of
Borneo, it’s hard to think about or write about politics, education or religion. Even though the previous week was filled with serious discussions and hard work, this weekend seems particularly lazy especially as the noonday heat is deceptively gentle from the shade of the balcony and the bird calls more of a reminder that KL is far away. The white stretches of sand mark the beaches of the not-so-far-away islands and the muted engines of speedboats and motorboats hum in the air as tourists are carried across the azure waters to the small islands , close enough to the resort for me to see the distinctive canopy of one tree on a slope – like a bird perched on a hill, looking out protectively over the island, its back to the sea. 

Malaysia can be stunningly beautiful. We are so lucky yet do we value what we have? It’s the eve of 13^th May and I’m surrounded by tourists both local and foreign who have no idea of the significance of that date in Malaysian history. My grown-up children, one who is engrossed in the NBA playoffs, are included in the generations of Malaysians who have no inkling of what it was like thirty-eight years ago, when the fuse blew on the bomb of racial tensions that had been ticking especially after the elections of 1969. 

I was seven years old when I first heard the word “curfew” for the first time and my mother told me my father won’t be coming home from his office in KL because of it. I didn’t realise until later what that meant. We were a young Malay family living in the middle of a sea of Chinese neighbours in SEA Park during the darkest period of Malaysian history. In KL that day, mobs of Malays and Chinese were killing each other. My father had bought a cheap single-storey terrace house in the area as the house faced the junction and was considered not “ong” or lucky.  

My cousin and her son were in a cinema in downtown KL when the riots broke out. They ran into a shop as people were dragged out by mobs. They lived through that night because the Chinese shopkeeper hid them behind his counter when the mob came looking for Malays. They in turn protected the Chinese taxi driver who drove them out of KL from the Malay mob. A young Malay girl swallowed her fear and accompanied her Chinese friend the morning after to the morgue. Her friend’s brother didn’t make it home that night. They found him there. That night, while there were mobs roving the streets, harming those based on their ethnicity, there were others who saved fellow Malaysians regardless of their ethnicity. 

Interracial couples bore the brunt of the mobs’ rage that night. Horrific stories about what happened to them emerged only to quietly sink into the murky pool of best-forgotten incidents. Much of what happened in KL that night remains as stories shared in hushed voices among survivors of a traumatic event – not to be printed even much less discussed openly for fear of opening old wounds or have new ones erupt. So we practice a “see no evil, say no evil, hear no evil” policy when it comes to this dark period. Young Malaysians are only presented a ‘bogey man’ view of 13^th May as is convenient to roll out now and again amid exhortations for racial integration and to reinforce the importance of conformity. 

My father came home when the curfew was lifted. Although we ran out of rice and the shops were closed, our neighbours gave us both rice, sugar and most valuable of all – their protection and kindness. So I guess living there was lucky after all. 

I remember going to school in the aftermath of  13^th May, singing Negaraku , watching the flag go up during assembly and seeing the serious faces of the teachers and older students – wondering whether the grownups of that time knew what they were doing. My father spoke of his friends – those who died in the street that night  and those who lived, of leaders who fell from grace and new ones who rose to the occasion. There was a collective, unspoken horror at the depths Malaysians descended to as well as awe at the heroism and courage true Malaysians displayed. It was a testament to the professionalism and speed of the security forces and hard decisions made by the authorities  that the riots did not spread to all states or last longer.  

We could have been bitter and revengeful – instead we made a conscious choice to do the opposite or did we? The National Economic Policy and Barisan Nasional rose from the ashes of the flames that burnt that day. Muhibbah was the rallying cry for racial integration but at the same time formalised affirmative action helped provide the push for the development of the educated Malay middle class and Malay entrepeneurs today. It was hoped that these measures would balance the country’s population, spread the economic pie more evenly and even eradicate poverty. A tall order indeed. 

I benefited from those policies, defended them to talented non-Malay students who watched as others less talented receive scholarships, breathed a sigh of relief as meritocracy came into the equation and now my children compete with others based on their own merit and the depth of their father’s pocket. And
Malaysia fifty years on is an even playing field for all races? That was the intention of those policies.  

So, have we come up to the mark? Those heroes and victims who died that night believed that
Malaysia was a country worth living and dying for. What do we believe? Have our politicians and entrepeneurs forgotten what
Malaysia is all about in this race towards developed nation status by so busily ensuring their own status?  Is quality in education, health care and local services merely lip service? Is racial integration and religious tolerance merely rhetoric – sounds good on paper but let’s not see it in action? Must we still base our judgement, our decisions, our identities, our alliances on race and religion in a multi-ethnic, multi-religious society that is
Malaysia? Do we dare to change or must we wait for another fifty years or worse still, another 13^th May. 

I have mixed ancestry – Sumatran Malay with a touch of Chinese and Burmese blood somewhere in the mix. My children are one quarter Chinese as is my best friend (and they look it too). I have Chinese and Indian neighbours whom I’ve lived next to the past fifteen years in a multi-racial neighbourhood. I have Chinese friends I’m close to as well as Malay and non-Malay co-workers I respect greatly. I’m seriously considering an inter-racial relationship and hail from a predominantly Malay state and a traditional and conservative Muslim family (Yes, I know, I’m heading for trouble!)   I speak and write in both Malay and English. My daughter is learning Chinese and Malaysian law. I love P. Ramlee, Sudirman and Yasmin Ahmad’s movies as well as the latest
Hollywood blockbusters. Am I a typical Malaysian? Is any Malaysian today typical of a specific race or religion? Or are we on the whole “mongrels” – a mixed breed in terms of ancestry and social interactions?  

As long as we continue to make decisions and take actions based upon the privilege due to ethnic background, the bogey man of 13 May will continue to hover in the background. Turning one’s back on the need for concrete measures for racial integration, religious tolerance and equitable treatment does not not negate the urgency for such measures.   

If another race riot were to erupt tomorrow, how will the mobs differentiate between my children and I? By appearance, by identity or it wouldn’t matter as long blood is spilt in the name of ethnic pride? If ever it comes down to this, then it would have all been to no avail. We would have learnt nothing from the darkest period of our history. Rationalizing our actions right down to the last body for it is so difficult to change, to risk losing our status, our power. So if you are a minority , it may be better to leave
Malaysia now for greener pastures than continue fighting for tolerance, understanding and harmony among races. If you are a ‘bumi’ ,  reconsider current thinking  on ’sensitive’ issues related to race, special privileges and religion for if we continue the policies of the three monkeys or insisting on putting our foot down as a majority, things may come to pass in a manner most unpleasant. But that’s only my opnion. As for me, I will slog on in my own small way for a better
Malaysia and Malaysians.

The Clod and the Pebble

“Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell’s despair.”

So sung a little clod of clay,
Trodden with the cattle’s feet;
But a pebble of the brook
Warbled out these meters meet:

“Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another’s loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven’s despite.”

William Blake

Thoughts on the nature of love. What are we, clods for allowing the pebbles to rule? 

 

Hello world!

Reaching one’s midlife is a great excuse to look back and examine the milestones behind and also look ahead at all there is still to accomplish. Since I’ve been writing almost all of my life, first in the little 555 notebooks (at 9) and later in exercise books and notebooks (even started to write an autobiography at 12, though Adrian Mole beat me to the best seller’s list), journals and in my beloved laptop, blogging is the next step on my journey to be all that I can be (trite and unoriginal but apt).

A means to share opinions, thoughts, feelings  about events, issues, people past and present … Not so much pearls of wisdom as much as petals of a rose, scattered in the winds  of cyberville.  My two cents worth..