On the page for 31st August of my 1957 diary, my entry carries the following baffling line:
“Am I happy to see Malaya’s Independence?” – yes, MALAYA it was.
That was written 13,000 km away from where possibly the greatest national event of this country was being celebrated; Pak Cik at a young age, lonely and feeling being left out.
As I read and reread that line and try to fathom the depth of my feeling 52 years ago, I am convinced of one thing. I was being possessive. I did not want to lose MALAYA, tanah tumpah darahku. It did not matter who would govern it but I wanted that country intact as I had grown to love, enhanced by the distance that separated it from me at that very instance. I did not know whether Merdeka and Malaysia would carry anything meaningful to my future.
Today, my fortnightly lunch group consists of just four regulars, two Malays, a Chinese and an Indian. Not many years ago there were four Malays, two Indians and three Chinese in that very special and closely knit group. The number has whittled away. In time, like the ‘sepuluh budak hitam, there will be none. All of us would have been Malayans as much as Malaysians today. Nothing would change, needing no spirited slogan to keep us together with love and respect, drawing our spouses along.
And Pakcik would want my Almanar pupils to learn from that, patriotism in its essence.
“Am I happy to see Malaya’s Independence?” – yes, MALAYA it was.
That was written 13,000 km away from where possibly the greatest national event of this country was being celebrated; Pak Cik at a young age, lonely and feeling being left out.
As I read and reread that line and try to fathom the depth of my feeling 52 years ago, I am convinced of one thing. I was being possessive. I did not want to lose MALAYA, tanah tumpah darahku. It did not matter who would govern it but I wanted that country intact as I had grown to love, enhanced by the distance that separated it from me at that very instance. I did not know whether Merdeka and Malaysia would carry anything meaningful to my future.
Today, my fortnightly lunch group consists of just four regulars, two Malays, a Chinese and an Indian. Not many years ago there were four Malays, two Indians and three Chinese in that very special and closely knit group. The number has whittled away. In time, like the ‘sepuluh budak hitam, there will be none. All of us would have been Malayans as much as Malaysians today. Nothing would change, needing no spirited slogan to keep us together with love and respect, drawing our spouses along.
And Pakcik would want my Almanar pupils to learn from that, patriotism in its essence.
Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan.