Goodbye and thanks for the memories.

 

So, alone and in some 5 star hotel in KL, I find myself pensive and wondering. I’m wondering how the time went so fast. I’m thinking about the people I met. I’m analysing the situations I found myself in and in turn, I question my reactions and responses. Could I have done this differently? Only a fool would answer, “No”, but I must also say that a fool in its innocent wisdom would also know that one can’t change anything that happened in the past, and the wiser person would then say, “But one can learn from their experience”.

Have I learnt anything? I find myself laughing at this question. The answer, although apparent in many ways, will not be answered in its entirety until I find myself in a similar experience many years from now and when challenged, will I momentarily reflect on a time in 2013 when feeling out of my depth and grappling for air, I turned to someone and said, “Just fuck off”. So, who knows?

Wow, is this blog beginning to question existentialism or am I really just becoming self-indulgent? AND therein, I begin to question that question. Um, did I say that I was pensive?

A plethora of thoughts enter my mind and I question each and every one, some in minute detail, others enter and are dismissed as quickly as they encroach on my mindset.

Perhaps I should maintain brevity in the hope that I don’t confuse you and just say, Thanks……..for the experience. I assure you that much was gained from this experience and I am not only talking about my weight gain.

When I’ve had time to analyse this experience from a distance, I assure you, I will write in depth about this whole experience. The people I met who enriched my life by something as simple as a hug, a word or an act. The people who left an indelible imprint through their hubristic approach to life.  The sights, the sounds….everything.

So, terima kasih………for everything.

The day the aliens came into town and took over Chow Kit

The day they took over Chow Kit……..

Ha, it sounds almost alien like. The day they came from a land far away and imposed their views upon the locals, but in many ways, it was exactly what they did and hence, today’s blog will be known as the day the aliens came into town and took over Chow Kit. The place which had become my home for around two weeks now.

 

Perhaps it is because I have been battling an illness, but the last few weeks have been hell for me in many ways. My work at the pusat has suffered, I’ve left many social engagements early or I’ve had to cancel and I’ve spent many an hour in some low budget hotel in a notorious part of town, known as Chow Kit.

Many of my friends have questioned my choice of locality and many, many more have questioned if I would be safe, but ironically, as years of crime have left an indelible imprint in this area, there are even more security guards than anywhere else I’ve been to in KL. They are outside every hotel, place of business and heck, there is even one positioned right in the middle of the pedestrian overpass. In fact, I’ve never felt safer.

There is actually something more real about this place than in parts of Bangsar. At least here, I know who I am dealing with. In Bangsar, the façade is refined and those who feel the need to prove their self-worth, surround themselves with the sycophants who will dutifully prove their value.

So, as I battled my flu, I’ve found myself struggling to write, but as I began my battle with the aliens, I discovered my breakthrough and as I watched these aliens wield their magic sword, I found the cynic within, begin to grow and the words began to swirl in my head until I found myself back in my hotel haven, writing this blog.

AND who are the aliens who came into my haven and took control? They are the dreaded International film crew.

The day began much like any other, I went to the pusat, coughed my way throughout the morning until I eventually succumbed and took leave in a taxi back to my haven. The little budget hotel with a fairly comfortable bed, a TV with limited channels, but a never-ending supply of tissues, a restoran which eventually stopped charging me tourist rates and a bunch of locals who will always greet me with a smile.

There is a little bottle shop on the corner and the local drunks sit in the street drinking their cheap ales and they always give me a high five and a smile as I walk past. One day, one asked me where I came from and upon answering Australia, he began to discuss the political contrast between Australia and England, and as I walked away, I remember thinking that one never knows what can happen to someone in life. This man, who was obviously highly intelligent, was some drunken bum, sitting on the footpath in the notorious part of KL. He told me how his daughter now lived in Melbourne, but he was yet to visit, and then he wished me well.

It’s an aspect I’ve always enjoyed about the less savoury parts of a town, when you interact with the characters, there are usually no hidden agendas. They just talk with you and enjoy the interlude. Honesty rarely found in amongst the so called elitists of society.

So, perhaps in some way, the day the aliens came to town, I found myself rather annoyed, because suddenly my haven had been taken over by a group of people who believed they had the right to be treated like some deity.

I don’t know, perhaps the short period of time I spent in drama school and working in films, have left me jaded. Or perhaps I just knew the way we acted, no pun intended, but the hierarchy, the egos, the sense of entitlement had left me wanting more substance in life and that belief that all because someone looked good, acted well or worked in films gave them the right to believe they were the beautiful people and better than others, has always left me confused.

Even in Sydney, we had the right to enter certain clubs that those less fortunate would never be allowed to frequent. I remember, well, I actually cringe, at the time we all got on the dance floor and danced the same dance that we had learnt that day in class……..oh, puhlease. :p

It was possibly the same time that I decided that I really didn’t want to be an actress. I’m sure if you find some old film from the early eighties, you may see me in the background, or I could tell you about the actors I dated……..but this isn’t about that.

It’s about the day I found my haven invaded by the false people.

So, as I semi laid in the back of a taxi waiting to curl into bed and sleep, the taxi was stopped from entering the little lane which would eventually turn into the road where my budget hotel was situated, because the powerful people had come to town.

The bums had been moved off the footpath, the hawkers had been stopped from selling their wares and the place was swarming with the police.

After a lengthy detour, I put my laptop into my room, grabbed my purse and headed off to get something cool to drink and I was faced with a roadblock. Too annoyed to be stopped, I walked straight through. Perhaps because I am a blonde white woman, the police stupidly assumed that I was with the crew and allowed me through.

I remember being somewhat cynical about the fact that if a crime happened in KL, the chances of such a police presence being in existence, would be fairly remote, but get in an international film crew and the world comes to a standstill.

And I came ‘home’ and slept. I was hoping to get back into work this evening as they had a training session that I really wanted to attend, but I slept and slept and slept and upon eventually awakening, it was too late to attend.

So, I headed downstairs to my favourite restoran which had finally stopped charging me tourist rates and there they were. The aliens who had taken over.

I approached the cordoned off area and I came across a sign which I photographed with my usual anti-authoritative stance. The sign was telling me that I was not allowed to take any photographs and this set me off on my mission. I was just curious, how many photographs could I take as I walked through the cordoned off area?

 

I don’t know, sometimes I think I like to see how far I can go before someone eventually tells me, “enough”, but as I snapped away, I was still surprised when a hand reached out to stop me. As I questioned what he was doing, he told me that I wasn’t allowed to take any photographs. “Why not”, I questioned and began some tirade on property rights which I knew left the local cop completely confused.

AND I continued to take photographs again and again and again.  

I don’t know if they just didn’t know what to do, but they kept asking me to stop until the ‘boss’ of the film came up to me and asked me to stop taking photos. I challenged him too and he told me that I had possibly ruined the last half hour of filming with my flash and walking into scenes I shouldn’t have been in. Oh, well. They had stopped the locals from enjoying their freedom and making a living.

I told him that I was amused that they had the ability to have a group of police as security when the locals struggled to get assistance. He told me that they were paid to assist. I replied, “this is Malaysia, they are always paid off” and he laughed and said that they had just been in Indonesia, they had cost even more.

Bored with my antics, I went in and ordered at my favourite restoran until filming finished and the crew came in to eat.

I suppose in some way, this group of locals will be compensated. As I watched the huge crew order their food, I was pleased in some warped way………they will be charged as tourists.

Malaysia According to Mano Maniam ........#UndiMsiaChats 48

Malaysia According to…Mano Maniam.  #UndiMsiaChats 48

 

Photo courtesy of UndiMsia Facebook page

 

On Saturday the 27^th July 2013, I had the privilege to meet and listen to Mano Maniam give a talk on what Malaysia means to him. I’ll momentarily digress and attempt to explain who he is. I do say attempt, because this man is many things and if one was to try to capture who he is in a few simple words, one will inadvertently miss out on many aspects of this great character.

Mano is a scholar who has taught in many universities, both here in Malaysia, and overseas. He is an actor who has portrayed many characters in both film and theatre. He is a poet, a writer, an environmentalist, an activist, an……….the list continues; but last Saturday, to me, he was a man who provoked thought through his rather unusual but very interesting way of telling the 30+ people who came to pusat (centre) to hear him talk and explain, what Malaysia means to him.

He started off with an around the room introduction and as each spoke about who we are, he momentarily  took the time to acknowledge an aspect of what we had said and as we became more comfortable with being there, this man whose words commanded great attention, began to take us all on a journey.

He asked us what we thought was prevalent in Malaysia today and people spoke out about Education, Islamization, Women Oppression, Electoral Questions, Freedom, Inequality, and Crime; lastly, I said, Racism.

He looked at me, the girl visiting from Australia and then asked the group, “Why did it take a visitor from overseas to be the one who said what we all live and breathe on a daily basis”?

Mano’s journey through words and drawings, took us from a time of dinosaurs to the present day and as he spoke, he never told us what we should think, he never stood up on some soapbox demanding to be heard, he never raised his voice in anger, and he didn’t need to. He knew he had a story to tell and with that quiet confidence of his, he spoke in a voice which was almost soothing to listen to.

I looked around the room and I could see that those around me where equally intrigued and mesmerised by the way he spoke. His teaching was almost subliminal and I found myself over the next few days thinking about what he had said and I realised that the impact of his story wasn’t actually on the day, but in the days that followed.

The main premise of his story was, who are we, and how are we defined in Malaysia? He spoke of growing up in a time when race wasn’t really a defining factor.

It’s interesting, this seems to be a reoccurring theme amongst the many Malaysians that I have had the pleasure of meeting. They speak of a time when their friends were Malays, Indians or Chinese and segregation wasn’t apparent, but they also speak about today, when race as a dividing factor, has become more apparent.

During my last visit to Malaysia, just under a year ago, I spoke about the racism that I noticed, perhaps it was somewhat subtle, but it existed and I actually spoke about how surprised I was when people spoke out angrily when the PM announced that the Chinese tsunami had played a major factor in the election.

Why was I surprised? I was surprised because all through the lead up to the election, the media made constant reference to which race each candidate appealed to. Some candidates were even bold enough to express that if people voted for a certain candidate, it would be a downfall in the teachings of Islam.

He spoke of the time that as a young man, he went to India for the first time expecting to be returning home and the shocking realisation that he wasn’t an Indian; India was only his ancestry and the realisation that he was a Malaysian. Perhaps this was the the exact moment that he became passionate about speaking his truth.

This appears to be a reoccurring theme amongst many Malaysians. Never have I heard in Australia that I am Irish because my dad migrated to Australia many years prior, it has always been accepted that I am an Australian. This is the same with the Italians, the Lebanese, the Chinese and anyone else who has an ancestry that is different. We are all Australians because we are either born here or chose to make it our home; but here, in Malaysia, one is constantly defined by their race. So, was it really a surprise when I mentioned racism at the beginning of the talk?

To me, this is the point that Mano wanted to make. “Forget about labels and all those things. Talk about mankind and life.”

This brought him to his next point, what does culture mean to him? To Mano; values, identity and soul are derived from culture, and from these three things, we have attitudes. He told us the story about Viktor Frankl, who, whilst in a concentration camp, despite having lost everything, remained alive whilst those around him died and he deduced that it was because he had hope. To Mano, he could be left with absolutely nothing, but no-one could take away his very being and hence, he will continue to speak out for everything that he believed in. That Malaysians could all live as one!

His parting words were, “The challenge at the moment is who you are. Ask yourselves, who are you and the answer will come down to your values.”

So, Mano wove a colourful tapestry through his words. And like any tapestry being woven, the picture isn’t clear at first and one will often question why a dark thread is being used in that place and why the same colour is being used again…..and sometimes, even when the tapestry is complete, the clear picture isn’t apparent until sometime later. AND even then, one will go back to the tapestry and look at it from a different perspective and realise that what you think you saw at first, isn’t how you see it now.

For those who don’t know what UndiMsia is, I shall give a brief overview. UndiMsia is a non-partisan movement geared towards educating the youth of Malaysia ‘through the use of simple, do-it-yourself citizen action tools’ http://www.loyarbarang.com/shop/books/activating-malaysians-the-d-i-y-toolkit/  and one form of educating the youth is known as UndiMsiachats which are held at ‘The Centre’ on Saturdays.