My Malaysia Day

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To believe in something, and not to live it, is dishonest - Mahatma Gandhi
When I think of Merdeka, I think of Malaya. And when I think of Malaysia Day, my heart goes out to the good people of Sabah and Sarawak across the South China Sea who handle race and religion in a much better way than the peninsula.
Besides, I was a young planter in Sabah from 1982 to 85. But before all that, I experienced an event in 1974 that never left me.
Residential colleges then had “Open Days”. Friends, family, and fellow students, ladies included, shared time with us in our spruced-up rooms where we played host over cigarettes, music, light food and drinks. And college rules allowed for this.
Towards lunch time, I played host to an English literature major, a Sabahan. We smoked, drank beer and were talking earnestly when a fellow dormmate down the corridor stood at the door and rudely demanded that she leave.
After a brief confrontation, she left, but not before giving me a hug to put him in his place.
His eyes filled with quiet intent, he insisted that women should not step into the men’s wing of the college even on open day.
‘Colonialists’ from the peninsula
He was the first religious extremist I encountered in my life, and it was clear to me even then that for people like him, political power was not about making things better for all of us but about deciding what the “other” can or cannot do.
In 1982, I flew to Sandakan, Sabah. The airport terminal was rudimentary, and I could hear chicks chirping in the open cargo hold of the Fokker Friendship, the workhorse of air travel in Sabah and Sarawak.
Then came the immigration checks and work permit verification. Yes, that too was needed. But working for a GLC, it was a mere formality.
Slowly, as the weeks turned into months. I befriended many Kadazans and Orang Sungei, travelling by boat to outlying places far from where we were turning jungle into cocoa fields.
They were always kind, hospitable and friendly but very poor. I got the sense of what Malaya was 100 years ago, but without its anarchy and strife that led to British intervention.
And it wasn’t long before I heard Sabahans call Malaysians from the peninsula, as “Orang Penjajah”, colonialists.
I didn’t take it personally - the excesses of Haris Salleh, the chief minister, were getting to them. And he was well-connected with the political leadership in Kuala Lumpur. A once lowly political operative, he was treating Sabah as his own.
Yes, different state but same story - political power was about taking charge, taking over the wealth and controlling others.
The few good things I saw felt like a bad excuse for stripping the forests and selling the state’s timber. There were no universities, and the hospitals were all pre-colonial. Schools were in a deplorable state, except for a few elite ones.
A break from the peninsula
Then, in March 1985, against all odds, Joseph Pairin Kitingan formed Parti Bersatu Sabah (PBS) to contest the state election in the same year.
The politicians from the peninsula were flying in to shore up Harris and the United Sabah National Organisation (Usno), a party in Umno’s mould. The campaign was feverish, and cash was indeed king.
At the estate office, we got a call to send a hundred workers to a rally in a place called Bukit Garam to show support for an Umno bigwig who, if I can remember right, was Dr Mahathir Mohamad himself.
We pointed out that our workers were all migrants - Indonesians and Suluks mainly. Just send them, they insisted. That’s GLC for you! We did, in an open truck through untarred roads. 
I remember the returning workers complaining that there were no food parcels and no money. I like to think they shouted lustily, “Hidup Malaysia!” when prompted to do so.
I can still see in my mind the rain, the muddied lorry and the cold and hungry migrant workers, going through the motions of displaying false patriotism.
Pairin won by a whisker. They had succeeded in stopping the Umno-sponsored juggernaut, Usno! The brave and plucky Sabahans had stolen a march on us! David had slain Goliath with a few well-directed slingshots.
We had to wait for another 33 years before doing the same, toppling Umno from its high horse, after billions were lost in the 1MDB scandal.
Time for Sabah, Sarawak PM?
We should have learnt some useful lessons from PBS’ stunning victory. Like accepting that all people and races have feelings, heroes, values, hopes and dreams; that Malaysia is big enough to accommodate us all.
Instead, our politicians resorted to playing dirty in Sabah, using religion this time. “Project IC” granted citizenship to immigrants for political ends.
I fully sympathise with the people of Sarawak and Sabah in their current political fight to reclaim their rights under the Malaysia Agreement of 1963 (MA63) when they joined the Federation of Malaya to form Malaysia.
I fervently hope their leaders will not betray them as we were betrayed by ours after 1971.
Betray? Yes. And the worst kind of betrayal is the kind carried out in the name of equity and fairness. The corruption of the NEP by the power elites is surely the greatest betrayal to befall our nation.
The stealing, however well-disguised, must stop before the healing can begin. All the pain and discord we see today is the result of that half a century of stealing and looting. 
Surely, the time has come for a prime minister from Sabah or Sarawak to take us to a better place, given their refreshing and practical attitude to both race and religion, having themselves been discriminated against.
And whatever the concessions made to honour MA63, we must insist on a powerful MACC and an independent Judiciary for the good of all Malaysians.
Happy Malaysia Day! - Mkini
MURALE PILLAI is a former GLC employee. He runs a logistics company.
The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of MMKtT.

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