The Weight Of Our Sky Keeps May 13 Front And Centre

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In literature, trauma is usually understood as the return of the repressed. Painful events and memories that are suppressed have a tendency to arise again, even after generations. Characters may experience trauma as intimately personal or even inherit trauma as national and cultural legacies.
For Malaysian storytellers, perhaps no other trauma is imprinted as deeply or darkly on the national psyche as May 13, 1969.
It seems inescapable, for even contemporary stories like Karina Robles Bahrin’s ‘The Accidental Malay’ (2022) and the film ‘Spilt Gravy on Rice’ (2015) raise this dark spectre. This national trauma returns to haunt characters with familial and even political repercussions.
Nevertheless, May 13 itself remains distant, kept safely in the past in these stories. On the other hand, Hanna Alkaf’s ‘The Weight of Our Sky’ (2019) confronts this historical horror head-on. By setting her narrative directly during the riots, Alkaf makes a critical contribution to Malaysian literature by depicting May 13 without reserve.
Some may argue that reviving the past prevents the healing that comes from forgetting. They fear that scratching at a painful past is dangerous because it will inflame old wounds and resentments. But as Cesar Cruz said, “Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” This is the power and purpose of literature.
For Alkaf, keeping May 13 fresh for Malaysians, especially young readers, is necessary. She argues that if nobody remembers, “…this seminal point in our past becomes nothing more than a couple paragraphs in our textbooks, lines stripped of meaning…”.
Therefore, it is our national duty to vigilantly remember the past to prevent its recurrence. It is also by recovering our dark past that we can hope to recover.
Alkaf’s novel is an important and potent story of adolescence, friendship, and mental health, set in 1969 against the chaos of May 13. Melati is a schoolgirl hiding a secret - she is tormented by a “Djinn” that she believes threatens her mother’s life unless she obeys its will by obsessively counting.
When riots engulf Kuala Lumpur, Melati is saved by a Chinese family that she comes to care for deeply. In her quest to reunite with her mother, Melati bravely journeys across KL’s ravaged streets and bears witness to the terrible violence tearing people apart.
But more importantly, Melati also experiences - and participates - in acts of sacrifice and compassion. The senseless violence drives citizens across class, culture, and race to save and defend each other, many even daring to stand against those who look most like themselves.
It isn’t that Melati or her companions are colour-blind to race and religion - in fact, these are the first qualities they notice in others. Their desire to help their fellow Malaysians arises from a conviction that what unites us is more important than our differences.
The whispers in our ears
What elevates ‘The Weight of Our Sky’ is Alkaf’s ingenious idea of incorporating Obsessive Compulsive Disorder into Melati’s personality.
Melati feels compelled to count in sequences of threes. Her interminable counting is exhausting to read, making readers appreciate how tiring battling OCD must feel.
I found it fascinating how at a time when mental health was barely understood, Melati’s OCD manifests as a Djinn, a creature from Muslim folklore.
The Djinn follows and forces Melati to obey a strict pattern of behaviour. He voices Melati’s worst fears and gaslights her into believing that if she disobeys his will, anything bad that happens will be her fault.
One could draw parallels between the Djinn and a character named Pak Adnan, who is a schoolteacher from Melati’s neighbourhood. Pak Adnan is a domineering and overbearing figure who imposes his narrow and rigid ideologies and expects youths to conform to his ideas of proper behaviour.
Symbolically, the Djinn represents those voices that, drawing on patriarchal authority, religious fervour, extremism, and superstition, want us to see the worst in ourselves and each other. Like the Djinn, these voices use rhetoric to keep us fearful so that they can police us.
Melati realises she can defeat the Djinn by unlearning her patterns of fear and blind obedience by standing up for herself and others. In this way, young Melati represents Malaysia. Like Melati, the country is young and is still learning to integrate its multiple identities and voices peacefully inside itself.
Just as Melati understands that she is stronger than her fears, so too are Malaysians greater than the fearful voices preying on insecurities and intolerance. Alkaf’s novel shows that our love for each other is greater than our fear of the other. - Mkini
MATTHEW YAP hopes to share insights into books and films to inspire appreciation for the power of stories.
The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of MMKtT

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