LATTERLY I acceded to an invitation by some old school friends to a mini-reunion in Phuket. I had earlier resisted because I was bound to be jetlagged after my US trip – 17 years of long-haul flights have done nothing to mitigate that accursed condition – and beach holidays are not my thing anyway: I am averse to excessive sand and sunlight, nor am I a competent swimmer – a trait I share with many compatriots that is oft-mocked by swimmers from countries with less coastline than ours. “It is a historical sociological condition, you see,” I argue, “that seaborne activities like fishing and piracy were never aspired to in Malay society; unlike you white people for whom access to the sea implies a high social status.” Needless to say they are jealous by my ability to tan, even as whitening cream remains a staple amidst the gunk that many dark-skinned Malaysian ladies like to rub on themselves.
One of the things that struck me most about Phuket (etymology: bukit, because it resembles a hill) was the preponderance of mosques and the visibility of Muslims, particularly in the provision of fresh pancakes: griddled roti canai-esque formulations folded to envelop bananas and less healthy fillings. The guidebooks say that these people are ethnically Malay, but they would fall short of our constitutional definition. The Thai conception of citizenship – and I know this from Thai friends of Chinese ancestry whose surnames are a combination of Chinese and Thai elements – is largely based on the idea of assimilation rather than integration, and it seems to have worked rather well: another such individual is their Prime Minister.
Assimilation was not such a dirty word in the kingdoms that now make up our country. For centuries communities of Chinese or mixed descent owed their allegiance to their Sultan just like any subject, experiencing the same laws and practising the same customs, and it was only later that they were encouraged to ‘reclaim’ their ethnic identity alongside the multitudes of comparatively recent economic immigrants. We all know how that turned out, and yet there are still ethnic Chinese in Kelantan and Terengganu who refuse to identify themselves as anything other than Kelantanese or Orang Ganu. Good for them.
Many historical links between our northern states and Siam are totally glossed over in the current history books, with only fleeting references to the bunga mas sent by Kedah, Kelantan and Terengganu to the King of Siam that has been variously described as ‘tribute from a vassal to an overlord’ to ‘a fee for outsourced military protection’. Like in so many parts of pre-colonial Southeast Asia, the relationship was far deeper than you can imagine in the age of AirAsia. Tunku Abdul Rahman’s mother was from a noble Siamese family, and he himself studied in Bangkok. His father was only the penultimate sultan to have used Thai honorifics in addition to his Malay ones (despite the Anglo-Siamese Treaty of 1909 having been concluded decades before).
It might seem odd that today both countries seem not to stress these ancient links, but in the context of agitation in the south of Thailand, and in the interests of diplomacy between equally sovereign nations, it seems best not to bring up memories of inequality – we’ve seen it this week too during the visit of the Chinese Premier, and certainly no reminders would have been made on our side of the Tunku’s attitude towards Communist China.
So you see, politics does not only invent or distort history; it often leaves massive chunks out of it altogether.
The government seems also to leave schoolchildren without chunks of their favourite foods amidst scaremongering of an impending obesity crisis. Of all biological functions eating is one of the most important and intimate – ultimately you choose what to place in your mouth – and for the government to now declare that certain foods are banned from school canteens is a crass violation of this esoteric relationship between humans and food.
I ate my share of ‘unhealthy’ food as a schoolchild, but often the happiness derived would spur me on to achieve academically. I suspect these days there are teenage girls who will overcompensate for eating a single French fry by doing five laps around the sports field.
In short, politicians and bureaucrats should not second-guess what the incentives, causes or effects are for schoolchildren. That is firmly in the realm of parental guidance and – here’s a new concept – individual responsibility.
UK Prime Minister David Cameron once asked his party members: “Who has done more to improve school food, Jamie Oliver or the Department of Education?” Perhaps Malaysia needs its own Jamie Oliver, and perhaps Master Chef Malaysia would help create such a person.