I feel nauseous, I really do. Physically and mentally.
Physically because I am sick and have been since Sept. 1, 2007. Which says a lot since it’s the day right after our much lauded big 5-0 celebration.
Mentally because after all my efforts in ignoring any articles that mention anything remotely to do with a certain individual with initials of K and J, I managed to read something particularly puke-inducing when I was reading up on our dear Marina Mahathir’s blog(I’ve been reading her writings since my school days so I am a fan, I guess). Apparently someone who is, IMHO, totally undeserving is going to hoist our beloved flag during the re-enactment of the declaration of Independence 50 years ago. I am so tempted to call the flag Jalur Temberang now… but I guess dear ol’ Zam will ask to have my sorry arse hauled to Bukit Aman for insulting our country’s symbol. But if possible, I would like to have their asses hauled to Bukit Aman for insulting my intelligence in all their years of ’service’ in the government. Wishful thinking I guess.
As I read Marina’s posts over the last week about Merdeka and all that I have read over the past months (which weren’t much since I have been ignoring most of the ass kissing stuff that seems to be in the papers a lot) , I do feel a bit sad. The thing is, what I feel about it now is pretty much how I feel physically… nauseous.
I can’t remember the last time I read anything with Malaysia Boleh tagged to it that made me feel proud since the ‘98 Commonwealth Games. I mean, sheesh… who cares about the longest or biggest feast of some kind of Malaysian food that goes to waste after it’s been recorded in the dumb book of records when there are people starving or children who can’t afford to go to school in our day and era where the country’s economy is supposedly booming.
How can I feel proud of my country when I don’t even feel safe to walk in the streets after dark or even in my own home? How can I feel proud when I hear our people’s representatives in the sacred House of Parliament getting away scoot free after doing the most ludicrous of acts and a sham of an investigation? How can I feel proud of my country when people can’t even understand the mechanics of queuing up to get on a public transport and acts like some kind of uncivilized animal each time there is a crowd or when there’s free food?
On the eve of the big party, I actually managed to forget all about it and went to bed before it even occurred to me that I should be celebrating. And I can’t believe that I felt so little of it that I didn’t even remember to watch out for the fireworks. And I used to be such a sucker for Merdeka celebrations.
Each year since I was old enough to remember, I would be either watching the parade on TV or be a part of the parade. I remember the days under the hot sun where I would be practicing with my school band for weeks before the big day. I remember waking up at 4 am to get to school by 5 am because we needed to attend the rehearsals for the parade. I remember marching by our dear Sultan and I remember congregating on the Padang Ipoh afterwards with all the other contingents and singing along to Sudirman’s Tanggal 31 song (oddly a fave song of mine) while we were waiting. How much have changed since those days!
I love my country because this is where I was born and bred. I love my country because it made me who I am when I was born a Malaysian. I love my country because it is the only home I’ve ever known. I love my country because I am Malaysian.
I do not shout words that ring hollow while waving an ornamental weapon. I do not say Malaysia Boleh each time the opportunity presents itself. Heck, I don’t even have a Malaysian flag!
But I know the words of Negara-ku by heart, I still remember the notes of this song even though I haven’t played it on any musical instrument for over 6 years. I know the Rukun Negara by heart. I still have that tingling feeling when I hear our national song even though the tempo’s been changed multiple times for god knows why. I still remember the day when Tunku died and I stayed home and watched the funeral on TV even though I didn’t know much about him then. I remember the sorrow and solemnity even though I didn’t understand it then.
I remember all that should be remembered that is in essence what being Malaysian is about. I wonder if I can say the same of our leaders.
Merdeka? Yes, we gained independence in 1957.
Merdeka? I wish we have the same independence in our mentality in 2007.
