I was bloghopping when I came across an observation made by a foreign blogger on Penangites, the islanders to be exact.Now after that I read it, I realised how Penangites are different from the rest of the Malaysians. In many ways. And in a good light.
We are not colour blind. Rather we celebrate colours. I think that's what you get when you crammed in a super diverse population on an island half the size of Singapore. Hang Melayu, hang Cina and hang Hindu are not offences. It is what we are and we are proud of that. So when I was provocatively questioned why my parents voted for opposition by a BTN facilitator, I was speechless. First, I have no interest in which party my parents casted their votes on. Second, I've been taught that undi itu rahsia so I have no idea who my parents voted for. Third, because I am a Penangite and in our dictionary, racism doesn't exist. We hold true to the phrase live and let's live. The Chinese eat pork, everybody knows that. Hindu lempaq nyoq ~ why, it's Thaipusam. Melayu pi sembelih lembu because it's Eid-ul Adha.
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| Thaipusam's coconut smashing. Image from here |
Every now and then we sigh about our some of our differences but we know the limit and respect it. Like, we all respectively make noises. The azan blares 5 times a day, the Hindus ring their bells and the Chineses lit up fire crackers, bring in deafening feisty lion dance and stage opera once in a while. I was taught to see the diversity in a good light. Once, there were only me and my cousins on the bench watching the Chinese opera although we understand nothing of what the singers sang. In the Indian guesthouse, as a kid, I always examine the details of elephants pictures on the walls and asking why that one has so many hands.
Although our tables are set differently, I play and bicker with my Chinese and Indian friends all the same like I bicker with my fellow Malays. I always asked Prem to go jump from the building when I am tired with his teasing. and I had a fair share of friend-no friend phase with May Ching. And we laughed at the new student, Saravanan, singing Tamil song in the next door kelas pemulihan. We also went to Preshalni's for Deepvali and the family made sure we had the best visit. What people watch in the Yasmin Ahmad commercials, we experienced it firsthand. =)
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| See how the naughty girl pulled the same prank on me and Preshalni? |
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| Spot Prem |
My mom had mesyuarat tingkap back in the old days with Ah Kui and nowadays mesyuarat balkoni with aunty tingkat 9. My first encounter with Ah Kui wasn't pleasant. I was calling Yang Hoi cangkoi when he came to visit Ah Yong, our then neighbour. And Yang Hoi is none other than Ah Kui's grandson.
When I was leaving for my kindergarten concert, I made a stop next to the window where aunty Ah Hoi was in confinement after delivering Wan Han. Ah Hoi was so naughty for a new mom. She sent my 3 year-old cousin running back home crying her eyes out in fear when Ah Hoi purposely pull her hair like a female pontianak, paired with her pilis-ed forehead. I saw her fighted with her husband. She sewed me with her very basic skill a set of ugly but comfy PJs. Ah Kui herself is very productive. She would collect some sort of ribbon from the marketplace and weaved it into baskets. We still kept the one she gave us to this day. She called my mom deghai, her vocab for mulut murai. Once, some people spreaded false story about my mom accusing Ah Hua, Yang Hoi's mom. It was a tough time but they found out some people are just jealous that they are chummy and things were put back together again. When we moved to our new place, they still made it a point to visit every Eid to have nasi tomato.
In Batu Feringghi, when our Hindu neighbours were playing with sparklers, as a kid, I naturally want to do that too. My granduncle bitched about it but then we found ourselves banging the front of kedai apek to get our supply. My dad has been playing dam haji with his late disabled Chinese friend since they were small. Dad would go extra miles to the care-home just to play dan haji with that friend, and I was dragged along to discover what boring means. Plus, I shall not forget this particular apek that sold the rambutans to my tok nek. On one of the saddest day in my life, my Tok Tam collapsed to his death when walking back home with my two younger brothers who were toddlers at that time. It was anak Tok Marie, a Christian Indian who lives practically next to my Tok Nek's that found my brothers trying to wake Tok Tam up by strawing the spilled teh tarik into Tok Tam's mouth. And she was the one who called for help.
I guess, when talking about Penangites, I completely forgot about the interracial rife back home. Seeing Malaysia from afar, I was horrified at the tense, but when I focus my binocular solely on my most favourite island on the earth, I only see us Penangites going about our usual daily lives. I have always been proud of my origin as a Penangite and I hope nothing would change that fact. By putting me in Penang, Allah has taught me to think more openly and to respect others' values.
To my Penang, the place where diversity is celebrated. To the place where I hold dear. To the place of good food, kedai mamak, Rope walk, Chowrasta, Penang Road. To the place where everything gets done, as long as you ask around for directions. I pray to Allah that we continue to live harmoniously side by side. I don't want to miss my dose of kuih ladu baling ke dinding tak pecah, nor my dose of watching lion dance.
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Lion dance
p/s: all pictures are linked back to where I took them from. 1 picture is from my primary school friend's collection. Picture of high schoolers is from my high school friend's collection
pp/s: this post is wrote solely on my account as a Penangite
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