LET me tell you a story about friendship when I was a little boy living with my family at the edge of Butterworth’s port. It’s not a spectacular or mesmerising story. It’s just a simple story about everlasting friendship.
When I was a boy, playing with friends out in the field of Penang Port Commission’s (PPC) living quarters, I had befriended a Chinese boy; Kim Hew was his name.
A rather quiet and timid boy, Kim Hew was always fond of watching us play football from the other side of the fence. He never participated although he was invited to join in. He just stood there watching us play and one day, out of curiosity, I asked him about his family and where they lived.
I eventually realised that he went to Butterworth’s Assumption missionary school as I did, but he was a year my senior. We became close, spending a whale of a time together. We shared almost everything, from my mother’s delectable rice infused with Gulai Ikan Temenong to playing Snakes & Ladders during recess.
After May 13, 1969, we were separated when he moved away after his father’s shophouse was burnt down during the race riot, while my family moved to a kampung in Ayer Hitam on the island after my father had fallen ill and couldn’t work any longer. There was no way of knowing where Kim Hew was and I thought our friendship had ended.
However, decades later we stumbled upon one another again in a rather unusual circumstance. Kim Hew was campaigning for the Tanjong 3 project, DAP’s strategy to capture Penang and I was working as press secretary to the then chief minister of Penang, (Tan Sri) Dr Koh Tsu Koon, and his deputy (Tan Sri) Dr Ibrahim Saad.
Kim Hew, who ran a sundry shop, took time off to distribute DAP campaign materials all over George Town when we met by accident. He recognised me and blurted out: “Hey, I know you. You’re the boy who lived in PPC, kan?”
It was a few days before the April 24, 1995 general election and DAP was intensifying its campaign to wrest Penang from Barisan Nasional. It was do or die for both DAP and BN.
There we were, two old friends sipping kopi O at a restaurant in Jalan Burmah, sharing stories of yesteryear. We set aside politics, which factions we were supporting or how intense the political climate was at the time. We spoke about family and the joy of seeing each other again. I whispered into Kim Hew’s ear, confessing to him that I was collecting the opposition’s materials. He laughed out loud and patted my back and bantered something like this: “A BN agent in the midst, loh?” he said in English with deep Hokkien-lingo, subsequently handing over several pieces of DAP campaign materials.
Those were the days. These days, I’m not too sure. The question here is — are we really fractious?
I’m sure this 64,000-dollar question has been lingering in the minds of a majority of Malaysians for a long time, even before the May 9 general election. Looking at the way Malaysians behave these days, many rational-minded people fear that this nation may be further dragged into greater divide to become a really polarised society.
It may sound a little extreme to say this but after 62 years as a nation, we are still finding the middle ground and moderation in race relations. The delicate balance and the foundation of peace and harmony that our forefathers built seem wobbly now.
Well, if we ought to find some strange comfort in this melee, the United States is still struggling with race relations even after 243 years of independence.
So are some European countries; they are facing similar challenges that have triggered the birth of far-right political parties that fight only for one-race dominion in their countries.
We cannot deny there are certain quarters in our society who are beyond reason and convention.
They become overly antagonistic against someone or another community every time there are incidents or statements that they perceive are racially-charged. They are men and women who love shooting their mouths off when they see something they don’t like.
Take a good look at this nation, a melting pot of diverse races, cultural and religious beliefs; it is a promised land with a promising future.
But look at us, the people with all these incessant, cantankerous manners. I may sound rhetorical but are we achieving anything other than becoming angrier and grumpier?
Maybe we have to focus on what’s good in one another rather than identifying weaknesses. But first, we need to look at the man in the mirror — who am I, really? A bigot or a level-headed bloke? Maybe we need to change the system, starting with the education system that will allow children of all races to attend only one type of school.
Why don’t we teach our children Bahasa Melayu, English, Mandarin, Tamil, Arabic and other foreign languages to prepare them for Industrial Revolution 4.0? Some of these languages are spoken by billions on a global scale and have become international business languages. These languages are powerful communications tools in forging understanding and respect, ultimately unity among our children. We have all the advantages that we should capitalise on.
But to unite people, it takes more than just language.
It takes people to understand and respect people, if not love one another. It takes structural reforms to change the system that we have thought sufficient to unite Malaysians.
To achieve Shared Prosperity Vision 2030, we need to begin sharing responsibility to see ourselves through.
Like a Malay proverb says, “Bersatu kita teguh, bercerai kita roboh”, we just need to believe more in ourselves!
C’est la vie.
The writer is a former NST journalist, now a film scriptwriter whose penchant is finding new food haunts in the country