|  ©New Straits Times
by Johan Jaaffar
LET us be realistic: No amount of acts, laws and regulations can ensure better ties among our people. Race relations are about people, not punitive measures, sanctions or court rulings. It is all about how we accept, tolerate and live with each other. Perhaps too much emphasis has been given to the role of politics and politicians in ensuring harmony among the races. Perhaps we are expecting too much from them. We are disappointed with them for playing the race card. We criticise the race-based politics that has redefined our existence as a nation. We all know how racial issues are being played up unashamedly by some, sometimes without even realising the consequences of those actions.
We ought to look at ourselves: we the people. We have to find a people's solution to the problem. We matter. We can decide the destiny of this beloved nation of ours. We can make the difference. Where politicians failed, we must take the initiative. Let's call it People's Initiative. We have to look beyond politics and politicians.
We have to admit that our people are drifting apart. We have been talking about it quite a lot of late. We even mooted the idea of a Race Relations Act. Again we are resorting to acts, laws and regulations. We must not fall into the trap of using laws and regulations to manage everything, more so race relations in this country. Perhaps we should be asking ourselves why we drifted apart in the first place? Why were we more successful before? We pride ourselves as the poster boy in managing race relations among developing nations. We have done remarkably well actually. Our track record is commendable. It's just that we need to do more.
Things have taken a turn for the worse. Sensitive issues are being raised to fever pitch. The 2008 general election saw the rearing of the ugly head of racial politics.
We must heal the divided nation. We need everyone's contribution to make this place a harmonious one -- I don't mean the political definition of it, but the people's.
Let us look at the big picture. For one, we are segregated. Our children do not go to the same schools. That is one critical element to begin with.
We can argue about diversity and uniqueness, but in the end we miss the opportunity for our people to integrate from a very young age. They live in their own enclaves, with very little or no contact with others. Interactions are kept at a bare minimum.
The role of Bahasa Malaysia, the language that is supposed to bind us, is often taken for granted.
I have my own story to tell. I went to an English school in the 1960s. There were 24 of us in the class -- 16 Chinese, seven Malays and one Indian. It was the only English school within 40km of the nearest town. We were pioneers.
The village itself was a portrait of harmony. A row of Chinese shophouses had existed for as long as one can remember. The Chinese boys and girls went to Chinese schools while all my friends went to Malay schools.
But outside school, we were friends. Childhood in Sungai Balang Besar transcended race. Malay, Javanese and Chinese boys played together.
When the Chinese and Malay orchard owners found that their durians and rambutans were stolen, they knew the culprits were Chinese and Malay boys.
There was in fact the legend of Wak Samad, the gravedigger who saved Chinese families in my village when a parang-wielding mob rampaged through the area in the 1948 race riot in Parit Jawa. Led by one Pawang Salleh, they came from Batu Pahat.
When they reached my village, the remaining Chinese families were at the mercy of the mob. Wak Samad stood in front of the shops warning them that those people were his anak buah (wards).
The gravedigger's words carried a lot of weight. There was no untoward incident in the village. The story of Wak Samad is part of the local folklore remembered fondly by Chinese elders.
My father was a barber in the afternoon, a rubber tapper in the morning. He rented a small shop in the village. His neighbours were all Chinese shopkeepers who called him Jakpo Gunting (Jakpo the Barber). I spent lots of time with the shopkeepers' sons and daughters.
I remember my father told me the Chinese even bought pork discreetly by special delivery so as not to offend the Malays.
One of my best friends at school was one bubbly Chinese boy, Wong Chin Hock. The other boy, Jumadi was the son of a movie theatre owner in Semerah. We were so close that we called ourselves Panglima Tiga Serangkai (Three Warriors).
We parted ways after Form Three. But we made a promise -- every 10 years we were supposed to meet at a specific place, just for old times sake, regardless of what we do and who we are.
In 1978, 10 years after we made the promise, I went to the place that meant so much to us. I waited but they didn't turn up.
I was there again in 1988 and 1998, and I was alone. Early this year I did the same, and they were nowhere to be seen.
I met them a couple of times over the years. But I never reminded them of the childhood promise we made. Perhaps they have forgotten all about it. Perhaps I am being too nostalgic. But I wanted to keep my promise.
When I wrote a children's book entitled Tangan-tangan Kaku (published by Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka in 1974), I immortalised Chin Hock as one of the three major characters in the novel.
My encounters with the various races since my childhood days have helped me tremendously in understanding others. Malaysians need that. We must begin from a young age.
Harmony is not just about going to Hari Raya, Chinese New Year or Deepavali open house. It is not just about superficial encounters. It is a socialisation process that takes time, patience and lots of understanding. |
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