What does it mean to be Malaysian?
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What does it mean to be Malaysian?
Yesterday, I told off another Pakatan fella for stupidly implying that Malaysians don’t need to speak or learn Bahasa Melayu in schools.
Honest to God, I’m losing it with these “Ubah” idiots, especially the non-Malays. Their kurang-ajarness and blatant stupidity on social media is getting unbearable.
The strangest thing about these people is they think being a “Malaysian” means you can insult the King, propose to abolish Malay rights, stop speaking BM or question our national religion.
To them, respecting the King, preserving the unwritten social contract, speaking BM or respecting Islam makes you a “racist”.
And aided by misguided Melayus like Marina Mahathir, Siti Kassim, Mariam Mokhtar and my good friend Farouk Peru (who has Blocked me for reasons only known to himself), these non-Malay Pakatooners think everyone else must think (or unthink) like them.
Ok morons, let me now tell you what a REAL Malaysian is. When I was a lot younger, the harmony among the races was preserved because non-Malays knew their place.
And since they knew their place and didn’t stupidly touch on sensitive matters, there was no reason for the Malays to assert themselves.
Everyone respected the King (my home even had a photo of the Kedah King), respected the language and respected the religion.
For example, when playing football, we all depended on the Azan to know the time to stop playing because no one had a watch then (watches were a luxury in the early 80s).
When we heard the call to prayer, someone would shout “Oi dah Maghrib, jom balik”. Because if we didn’t, somebody’s mother will shortly turn up at the padang with a rotan.
That’s how Malaysians were back then. We all knew how to respect social norms. We all knew how to live with each other. No one came to me and said, “Bro, here’s something called a social contract.
Please sign it and observe the football rules for Maghrib!” No one needed to walk around with a sign and proclaim “I am not Chinese, I am Malaysiaann”. Being Malaysian was not a political statement. It was not shallow or superficial.
And this is why old skool Malaysians like me can still apply this principle today.
For instance, whenever flying with a Malay co-pilot, I don’t eat pork. Yet I don’t mind if he eats beef. Not because of “ketuanan Melayu” but because I understand how he views pork compared to how I view beef.
Pork is something that’s unclean to him. It’s disgusting to him. But beef is not something “unclean or disgusting” to me, it’s simply something I don’t eat due to my Hindu roots.
The same with religious tolerance. I was an itinerant preacher at some churches operating from commercial shoplots.
Imagine, any Malaysian Christian can easily rent a rumah kedai, set up a few musical instruments, place 50 chairs, preach from the pulpit and invite people to come on Sundays. No questions asked.
Pray tell ye ungrateful idiots, which Muslim country in this world gives you that kind of freedom? Even with your rabid hatred of Najib Razak, you are still free to practice whatever denomination you want.
Heck, even deviant cults like the goddamn Jehovah’s Witnesses and Mormons are free to cycle around in Malaysia. (Try that stunt in Singapore and see how fast your asses get kicked!)
So free until you can even visit Israel for Christian pilgrimages despite the passport restrictions. Any Buddhist-based "Persatuan Dhamma" may organise donation drives.
Taoist-groups can burn as many giant joss sticks as they want during festivals. Even the Hare Krishna sects are free to jingle bell at shopping malls while handing cute Bhagavad Gita tracts to passers-by.
And pray tell, which Muslim Prime Minister in which country in this world goes to a Hindu temple complex on Thaipusam, wishes people and hands a donation to the temple committee? (What, suddenly forgot to kutuk Jakim or JAIS ah? Cat got your tongue??)
The REAL problem with you morons is you actually Don’t Know What You Want. This is why you don’t even know what your own manifesto is.
This is why you keep nodding your heads like retarded woodpeckers while chanting "Ubah! Ubah!" every time Mahathir opens his mouth.
This is why you are suddenly attacking even our King and expecting him to submit some sort of "Resit Rasmi" for his breakfast, lunch and dinner to your Ah Pek Finance Minister who doesn’t know the difference between 680 billion and 1 trillion.
Ok so maybe for you, Ubah means change the language, the Royalty and the national religion because Tun didn’t even bother making a manifesto.
Like Einstein, your boss knew the saying “Never underestimate the power of stupid people in a large group”.
And maybe Tun learnt to harness that power after all.
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