This weekend I watched the movie “The Kite Runner“… which incidentally I highly recommend. This weekend I also caught up with the news on the political situation in Malaysia. In an odd sort of way the two seemed strangely related … at least in my mind.
Somehow both triggered thoughts about romantic idealism as well as sins of the past… even those more cruel ones committed and/or witnessed in our youth… OK, at least mine.
While watching the film I was transported back to my own childhood. Specifically to a short period when I too like the protagonist in the film flew kites. “Kite fighting” was also part of my youth… as was playing with marbles, top spinning and several other childhood activities from that simpler era that I grew up in.
I will be the first to admit that I was never any good with any of them… my proficiently level stayed at the “functional” scale for the most part. Though that never stopped me from participating and joining in the fun with the other neighborhood kids. After watching the movie I wondered if any of those activities were still a part of the culture today in Malaysia or if the “march of progress” has since replaced them with toys of the video game revolution.
As for the march of progress THIS commentary as well as THIS caught my eye as I read the news from Malaysia. Apparently some political types have been overtly (and once again) using race as a wedge issue of late in the continuing melodrama of the current power struggle. Am I surprised? Hardly.
The ideal at least in my formative years growing up in Malaysia was that we all should live “in peace and harmony”… the reality is that although it can and has happened, there have always been bumps in the road.
The fact is racism and bigotry have always existed in Malaysia. When you have distinct races that hold firmly to their own cultural, traditional and religious values it is bound to create tension. These divides have existed for centuries and is plainly evident throughout the history of the country. No one race or member of any racial group can claim absolute innocence in the practice of some form of bigotry. Even within each culture the traditional hierarchy of caste and classicism are strong elements. As such bigotry in one form or another has been always present.
That being said, throughout the span of time, there have been ebbs and flows between mere tolerance and respect. Some eras were more respectful than others. The era of my childhood swung more toward respect… at least for a while. The simplistic explanation for is may have been that Malaysia was still a young independent nation then. Perhaps the promise of a collective ideal of nation building together after 400 years of some form of colonial rule had a lot to do with fostering a seemingly more idyllic period.
I had (and still have) friends of every race back home. We all got along respecting each others beliefs and celebrating each others traditions and cultures in the mixed neighborhood I lived in. Though even in that era we were still very aware of the delineation between cultures and race mostly from comments overheard from our parents generation.
“Of course la… he’s Indian.”
“Careful ah… you know how the Chinese can be.”
“Really, she married a Malay?”
“What do you expect… she is a Serani.”
Most of these were followed by disapproving shakes of the head. Mind you those are the kinder examples. These mixed messages created confusion to me as a child. On one hand, life in Malaysia at the time seemed like a rich and wonderful symbiosis of races and cultures, yet hard and distinct lines were drawn in the sand. It was a weird surreal dance where everyone seemed to know their place on the floor and things kept moving along while various groups employed different steps to a common tune.
Then an acute shift occurred during the political race riots when I was 10. The music stopped replaced by angry voices and this delicate quirky dance came to a standstill. In one fell swoop the fires of racial hatred were stoked leaving no one immune to dire suspicion based simply on differences in race and religion. This was when the lines in the sand got very much wider.
The reality of this hit the hardest on my return to school after the curfews had been lifted. Disparaging racial remarks and slurs were being spouted by several of my classmates of every race. Within a span of two months the mood and tone of everyday life became starkly different. The fact that 10 year olds who got along famously several months before now engaged in hateful (though subtle) racial potshots provided hard evidence that bigotry and racism is a learned behavior… and one learned quickly. No doubt the example of this ugliness was derived from their parents or elders. Though during this same period of racial strife I also heard heroic (and personal) stories of families of one race providing shelter and sanctuary to their neighbors of a different race. True stories during the height of the troubles that gave one hope that basic human decency still did exist despite the madness that ensued.
As I continued growing in my teen years things calmed and the lines in the sand slowly narrowed once again… but they still existed. At the time I naively considered that perhaps the “healing” from the political race riots had still not been complete. I also succumbed to the “peace and one world” ideal that was an extension from the hippie era. What I was not naive about was that it would take a lot more than government propaganda and slogans before a “wholeness” and a binding national identity and pride can be achieved. I still hold the latter opinion.
Some may argue that in large segments of the population in present Malaysia those lines may have narrowed to a sliver. Inter-racial marriages and dating are higher than they have ever been and the claims of being a “pure” anything is at a lower percentage than ever before… or so I gather. So, the current racial finger pointing should be moot, shouldn’t it? Heck, none of the prime ministers since independence have been “pure Malays” by heritage.
So, what is this idiocy all about? Perhaps it is just that… idiocy propagated by fear… and the inciting of fear for political gain. If we haven’t learned by now it should stand as a reminder that most fear springs from ignorance which ultimately leads to chaos. Besides, it does not engender any sense of national pride or forward motion in a country of historical mixed cultural heritage who are inter-dependent to thrive and survive.
As the years have rolled along I have become more convinced that divisions have always been there… and probably always will. Though I do not see this as a negative. Unique differences in culture and tradition do not have to be divisive.
Racial relations in Malaysia have always been complex. I really don’t expect them to simplify anytime soon. Unfortunately, more often than not when politics are thrown into the mix it becomes a righteous mess. Mostly because the distinctions between race, religion, culture and tradition become blurred. It really does not help when race becomes synonymous with religion, etc. My point being… diversity can actually be a strength… but the path to that has to come from unraveling the knots of perception we have tied.
You see each of the racial groups have anything between a 300 to 600 year stake in the country. Each culture has morphed and evolved (often liberally borrowing elements from each other) to create unique sub-cultures from that of their heritage of origin. Indians in Malaysia are different from those in India as much as the Chinese are different from those in China. Even the Malays are different from their various points of origin in the region whether it be Minangkabau, Achenese, etc. The Seranis have also evolved a unique culture fusion from the original Portuguese colonist. All in turn have become distinctly… Malaysian. Perhaps we should be super aware of these differences and appreciate them.
So I can’t help but return to that sunny and windy day out on an open field so many years ago when we all looked in the same direction observing a kite fight in progress. A string was cut. The detached kite flew with the breeze and we all ran after it together. Once the chase was over we made a collective agreement to meet again the next day for more. And as I walked back home I passed the houses of my fellow kite flying friends. As I passed each one I could tell dinner was being prepared. The aroma of a goat curry wafted from one house, stirfry prawns with soy sauce and ginger from another and the heady roast of a petai sambal from the next. Each one different and distinct… and all from the street I lived on. How could anyone not feel rich with that?