Archive for August, 2006

I'm happy today, because Malaysia will be 49 years old tomorrow. There was very simple gesture my friend said we should make, he asked us all to write a happy story. Project Happy Malaysia, he called it, and I think it was a good idea.

Some people have misunderstood this call, as a united act of delusion, they remind us that Malaysia is unhealthy, there's nothing worth celebrating. 'Telling happy stories,' they say. 'Implies you choose to ignore.'

I think not. I say this, if you tell your happy story, you cannot just tell it just to join in the 'fun'. You must understand the implications, the reason behind this 'party'. You need to choose your story wisely, your story's message must be strong. It must move beyond the feeble excuses, that race/religion/colour phobic people choose to fall back to, whenever they sign for lopsided decisions that will affect all of our lives. Your story should reflect unity in diversity, it is your GIFT to the nation, a way that you will wish our country 'Happy Merdeka', today.

This is my story.

I closed my eyes and I pretend to remember, all those years so very long ago. I cannot quite recall it, my mother told me the tale.

'You were but a little girl, you were just five, or six.'

It was a short flight back from Singapore to KL, and then from KL we flew back to Kota Bharu. Yes that very land, where the flag boasts a white moon, the symbol of a religion now so oft-misunderstood as extremist. I remember this story the way my mom told me, she said the first thing I screamed when the plane touched down the Sultan Ismail Petra airport was, 'I don't want to go down, Ma, I don't like going down. This is not my country, this is a jungle country..'

My mother said, I screamed and kicked and screamed and shouted, and the stewards and stewardesses got all worried.

'This Indian lady, another Malay man, they tried to calm you down,' said Ma. 'You sat glued to your seat, as all the other passengers left the plane.

'And then, and then?'
'Well, they HAD to keep to their schedule, so finally the handsome Malay steward grabbed you, slung you over his back, and carried you down the plane, you were screaming and kicking him, and all the stewardesses were smiling.'
'Oh my goodness… VERY MALU yah?'
'Yes, very malu. Hahahha.'
'OKAY….'
'You're a city-kid, so imagine flying from SINGAPORE to KOTA BHARU… this was in the 1980s ok?'
'So naughty lah me… must have been soooo embarassing.'
'Well, just imagine.'

'Then what did the steward said finally?'
'Oh he bent down and told you while you were still wailing, 'Girl this is your home. It may not be modern and classy, but this is where you belong.''

'Wahhhhh so gaya!'

'Yeah, then after that the Steward look at me and scolded me hahaha. He said, 'You ni jadi mak dah, must teach your kid to love her country.''

SO GAYA!!

I liked that old story, even though I can't really recall myself being so naughty. I'm used to playing it over and over again in my mind, because it reminds me: I came from somewhere else. I'm literally, a 'Kaum Pendatang', by virtue of the fact that I was born in Singapore. Not very far away, but overseas, nonetheless. But I now call Malaysia home, I'm proud to belong here. When times get a little bit tough, when I feel like I wanna bail out (and I think I can, it's just a flight and a few papers away), I remember very long ago, several MAS Flight Crew Staff took it upon themselves to educate my mother and little me, that Malaysia is my home.

I know Malaysia's not perfect, especially now she's not exactly in the pink of health. Like everybody else, I wonder if my leaders know exactly what they're doing when they talk. I'm not the kind who supports blindly, and God knows sometimes, I weep for the unjust things my fellow citizens have had to endure. I understand the need to know the facts, the realities that can be harsh. I hate some written laws that make me feel I'm second class. I want things to change, I know it takes time. And it pains me to sometimes feel, that positive change might never come. But above all these, I know one thing: I know I love my country, I want the best for her.

As our leaders blow the candles and make their speeches to commemorate the 49th anniversary of our independence, I want to tell them this

I hope whatever you guys are doing, you're doing it for our country's future good. I can't say I'll be a perfect leader, I'm sure your experience makes you guys more qualified than me. But in my position as a single citizen, I just want to say this: All I hope for this Merdeka, is that you remember the very identity that makes Malaysia so Malaysian.

Malaysia is diverse. Unity comes only when all in diversity sing the same, harmonically orchestrated symphony in a united tune. We may be of different races, colours and creed, but deep down we're all the same. We're all Malaysians, and I love my country just as much as you do.

Selamat Hari Kemerdekaan to all.

A friend, who is Catholic, had a long talk with me yesterday, and we shared our ideas on why so much war and strife has to happen. How so many people who are overzealous in their fervour to prove their love for each's own God, or to uphold the monotheistic/polytheistic value of their religions, have open the doors for opportunists to place their evil plans into actions.

To feign the very religious, I would almost say, this world has truly become Satan's playground. And because of what? Spyder, my dear teacher, told me,

In the name of religion, we maim and we kill. We claim to be 'holy people' and we behave as if we have a monopoly on God. Yet, the truth is we do not own God. He created us and we are but His people; He owns us. Would that we, the peoples of the earth, all be humbled by this realisation and not let our egos deceive us into thinking that that we own Him or even worse, that we can take HIS place and thus play God.

It happens to me every day. I face it from family members, from people I love, from people I learn to care for, and choose to make the objects of my affections. I get it from strangers, from the people who brought me up, who brought me into this world, it has never ended, and the whole crux of the matter, this constant arguing, squabbling, comparing… all for what?

The Entry to Heaven. A graduation gift from the Big Guy up there, a place whom none of us living beings have ever seen. Each one of us are in a huge big school called life… and the terms roll out one after the other, and we pick up different lessons crafted individually according to every person's needs to learn. Every one graduates at his own pace, but because we don't really know where we go to after we breathe our last breaths, we being the imaginative creatures we are, make up, set up, pick and choose laws from the Books to comfort ourselves in the one hope that Death would not be such a terrible thing to look forward to.

But thank God for the Books our predecessors have left behind, the Guidebooks that were supposed to be keys to the Truth, they have been valuable resources and every single piece has had its message and preaching of love and respect for all regardless of races, colours and creed. All divine, in each's very own way. We are different though in our beliefs, because as my friend told me, every person walks a different path in pursuit of God, and the ways we seek him differ because we were made different.

Today, if the ones who have gone before us were here to tell us what they think of the situation, I wonder what they would say?

'Why are you guys so preoccupied with the afterlife? It's not here yet. Why aren't guys focusing on preserving God's first gift to you, the opportunity to exist, breathe and live on this Earth right now?'

OK. Maybe I made that paragraph up.

I'm tired of the assault, tired of the arguments, but it doesn't mean I will stop completely. Maybe I want to take a rest, maybe I just want to sleep, just a night on this, try to ignore the wars, the battles, the fights that someone else is having with another someone else because they cannot agree on which version of Syurga is more accurate. I'm sick, and sad and tired. But I have not given up on Faith yet, because blind as it may be, it is my only key to sustenance, and it reminds me that I have been given a voice to do something, and I will say something in the best way that I can do so. As responsibly as I can manage to be.

But this line from the dedications in The Five People You Meet In Heaven really struck me and I just want to share these with the most fundamental of readers who enjoy my blog. Even if you choose to feel I'm talking nonsense today, and I'm bordering on being a heretic for my liberal opinions, I just want to tell you this. I do not see myself as a liberal thinking person at all. Closest friends know, I'm just as conservative as you are, and that I love God just as much as You do… but I love Him because of what He did for me, not because of what He promises to give me when I die. And because of that, I will be His instrument and let Him take me up in His waves. I will swim where He requires me to swim.

Everyone has an idea of heaven, as do most religions, and they should all be respected.
—Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet In Heaven

I really really wish we would all stop fighting for God. If two men were to maim and kill just so that they could get to date me, I'd turn celibate and choose to turn away from relationships forever, because it pains me to see people resorting to violence just so that they can get what they want.