Merdeka: My colour-blind rose-coloured glasses

For a moment yesterday, I shed a tear for my country. I’m not usually this emotional (well, yes I am but not when it comes to issues of race, religion and national identity – I’ve learnt to numb myself to it). But the despicable act of carrying the head of a cow in protest of a temple being built just made me so … well, sad.

In case you’re not sure of what I am talking about, here is an excerpt from the MalaysianInsider, where I first read the news:

A group of Malay-Muslim protesters claiming to be residents of Section 23 have threatened bloodshed unless the state government stopped the construction of a Hindu Temple. Amid chants of “Allahuakbar,” the group also left the severed head of a cow at the entrance of the State Secretariat here as a warning to Selangor Mentri Besar Tan Sri Khalid Ibrahim.

This sparked an outrage among Malaysians – living here, and abroad – on social media networks. The anger was understandable. Since then, there has been many more rumours and theories emerging, including that of the fact that some of the protesters do not even live in that area. The Prime Minister has since called for the IGP to take swift action.

The incident also affected me because of the article I wrote for my column in today’s The Bangsar Boy. I talked about race (in the context of Merdeka and the Government’s mulling over whether or not to remove the race category from official forms) and said that I think many young people have moved beyond race, the same way our ancestors have for generations.

Then again, perhaps the problem is not with the common people. Politicians latch on to racial rhetoric because it is such a convenient way of defining their battlegrounds.

But when I hear some of these politicians’ divisive rhetorics, I marvel at our people’s wisdom, tolerance and resilience.

I am not surprised though because I believe that we are good at living together. In me are the genes of eight generations who have been doing just that.

Of course, the incident yesterday made me wonder if I have been living my life through rose-coloured glasses. Was I so sheltered in my own world – protected even – that I didn’t see what everyone else saw? Why is it so hard for people to understand and accept diversity?

I moped for a while at work before heading out to meet some friends to head over to Bangkok Jazz. My friend Tony Leo (an Indian and a bit of Eurasian, as he would explain) was performing alongside the band 2Five1 (consisting of Ee Jeng on Piano and Keys, Wagner Daniel on Drums, Fook on Bass and Faz Aznam on Guitars). I hadn’t heard of the band before so I was surprised to see Fook there, as I had met him several times when I hung out with Rozhan, my childhood friend (who is also my brother-in-law’s brother) married to a Japanese lady.

I had plans to meet my friend Grace Ng, who brought along her secondary school friend Raj (I think that’s his name). As we walked to our seats, I bumped into a group of three girls – all acquaintances and friends I had met separately and wasn’t aware they knew each other – Joanne, Erna and Ash.

Look at the names of all the people up there – surely my eyes don’t lie. It was at that point that I convinced myself that that 50 protesters in Shah Alam are not truly representative of Malaysia, but instead, just a few bad eggs we need to live with (or arrest for being a threat to national security if what they were report of saying was true). In respond to a Tweet last night about how we are close to achieveing 1Malaysia, I replied:

I think we achieved 1Malaysia a long time ago. Along the way, some of us decided we are too good for it.

I am refusing to allow the incident yesterday to bring me down. Whether it was a political ploy, or just ignorance, disrespect and stupidity, I believe that the rest of us are much better than that. The outrage on cyberspace is testament to that (there were also many replies, mine included, to UMNO Youth Chief Khairy Jamaluddin’s statement on the protest. He said that such incidents would anger “orang Hindu”, and we replied, saying that many non-Hindus – Malaysians in general – too were angry).

So call me anything you want but I woke up today more resolute than ever that everything I said in my article stands. I live the life of a Malaysian Malaysian, and I was reminded of it last night … and more so when, immediately after the band ended their set, the DJ played Sudirman’s Merdeka song and everyone – people of all shapes, sizes and colour – started jumping around and singing the song together.

11.13am Malaysian time (+8 GMT)

Tags: 2five1, bangkok jazz, Malaysian Insider, Merdeka, protest, race relations, shah alam, sudirman, tony leo selvaraj