Square Head

I see little stars dancing over my fingers. They are yellow and they look oddly like those cute Digi men from the Fu-Yoh ads you see on TV. They run across my digits and jump on the keys and make cute little snorting noises. I take a magnifying glass and peer closer, and on the underbelly of the keyboard lies mooncake crumbs and pieces of chipsmore that I've gorged on. Fat content. Carbohydratesproteinfatfatfat.

It's late at night now, my mental capacities are on full alert. Just got off the phone with a friend. The type of conversation that is, you know, filled with quick comebacks, wit, lots of laughter. And looking out at darkness, dotted with orbs of light. Here and there. In the distance a car honk screeches. Somebody shouts in hokkien: "GO TAKE YOUR BATH NOW!" I curl under the desk.

Something is wrong with me. 11:58, and I'm dedicating a blog post to my heightened senses. I've semester exams next week, fourteen days of sitting uncomfortable on a yellow chair, faced with questions I can't even begin to tackle. Square deadline is next Friday. I am supposed to be writing an article now. I am high. Not scared. Flying above the orbs of light and melting to places smaller than the underside of my desk.

Eat me. Drink me.

What are academic marks when compared to living in this state?

I'll need to wake up soon. And then reality will hit and I'll need coffee. Till then, the breathless thrill of freedom.

Merdeka Means Growing Up

Three days ago my country turned 50.

I was at a Judo competition, and I must say I didn't feel particularly patriotic. None of us did - most of my friends had just another normal day - study and homework and movies and music.

A day of rest, a day of relaxation.

Nothing to be excited about.

Ironic, then, that our newspapers, our radio, our television ... they were all blaring loud messages, reminding ourselves how lucky we are to be 50. Big Visit Malaysia billboards were set up all over the country - group photos of smiling multiracial faces. A great big pat on the back! Woohoo for multi ethnicity and religion! Woohoo for peace and stability! Great bright big future ahead!

I was cynical. My friends had about them an air of indifference.

50 years old? So what? Fuel price still expensive right? Malay still Malay Indian still Indian Chinese still Chinese right?

We are so similar, and yet so different. We are one, and yet we are divided. Wedges are pushed into our social dichotomy - Malay cannot marry Chinese, Chinese cannot marry Indian. Instead of reminding us of our similarities, we are reminded of our differences.

Our politicians are the hallmarks of human intelligence:

"I had to put my feet on the table"
Industry Minister Rafidah Aziz describing how she had to end a heated debate at an Apec Ministerial meeting in Kuching. Foreign Minister Abdullah Ahmad Badawi chipped in with: "That's a new phrase!" (NST, June 1998)

They are also the champions of blood and kaum and they wave kerises around to show how tailo they are. "If you don't like it here you can leave!"

Let's face the facts, folks. Those happy multiracial faces on the Visit Malaysia billboard are just that - happy faces. Behind the smiles are a hundred stories, some with ambition and pride, others hopeless and quashed. Divided into races. Divided into Muslim and Non-Muslim. We so easily capture their faces on our billboards, champion our culture to the army of ang mos that descend upon us like carrion, and strut our stuff. Like fools, full of sound and fury / signifying nothing.

I didn't feel anything because I am Malaysian.

Don't get me wrong: I appreciate the fact that Malaysia is now 50. Happy birthday, motherland. You've come far. I'll clap hands for you.

But I am Malaysian, not an immortalized face in a billboard, and therefore I have hopes and I have fears. Us people of different races do not feel that we have an equal stake in our country's future. Us young people feel we cannot make a difference in a society and an education system where open discourse is discouraged, where things that we should think and talk about are labeled sensitif, haram.

The burden of change sits heaviest on the shoulders of the young and the educated.

Discussion suits a contemplative young generation, one that I am part of. We want more openness about the things that matter to us, and the last thing we want to see is blatant sweeping under the carpet. Racism? Polarization? Freedom of religion? We have to start talking, and we have to start talking soon.

We are growing up, Malaysia. Every day brings us closer to the maturity that our forefathers had when they talked with our colonial tailos. Will you nurture us? Will you accept us? Or will you go theocratic and throw us into jails for sodomy? Questions, questions, questions.

Ibu Pertiwiku, I love you very much. I hope you'll grow with us and learn to laugh at yourself like you used to before all this sensitif business came about. In the darkness, as we sing you your birthday song, think of us as you blow your candles. Just for awhile.

Coz we'll certainly be thinking of you.