Yearning For Golden Malaysia Of The 60s And 70s

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With the country ravaged by the Covid-19 pandemic, the economy sliding into recession and the nation swept about in political uncertainty, many Malaysians are worried. Many are also very concerned about the direction the nation has been taking in recent times.
Some old-timers tell me they cannot recognise the Malaysia they spent their youth in. Racial and religious divisions, they say, are worsening, with opportunistic politicians and others fuelling the fire.
Today, we have leaders who cannot hold a candle to Tunku Abdul Rahman and our founding fathers. The nation is drowning in a flood largely caused by some powerful politicians and religious bigots.
Many yearn for the old days when racial and religious differences did exist but were never a problem; a time when people saw each other as humans and Malaysian citizens instead of as Malays and non-Malays, as Muslims and non-Muslims, as Christians, Buddhists, Hindus and Sikhs.
That is one reason, I believe, an article I wrote for the Lifestyle section of FMT was read and commented upon copiously. When I wrote about Mohamed Jamil Ahmad, an unassuming associate professor (industrial) at Universiti Malaya and his broad-mindedness and embrace-all-races philosophy, I didn’t expect it would receive such an enthusiastic reception.
The article received 18,000 shares and was read by thousands more, many of whom praised Jamil’s sense of Malaysianess and respect for all races. Three readers even proposed Jamil for prime minister. Behind their words I could sense a yearning for a return to the “good old days” when no one went through your every utterance or action with a racial or religious comb and lodged police reports against you or demonised you.
As Malaysians of Chinese descent celebrate Chinese New Year, and as other Malaysians share in the joy, I thought it might be an appropriate time to talk about this yearning and nostalgia for racial and religious understanding, for a happy Malaysia.
Many Malaysians above 60 will recall the 60s and 70s as a time when Malaysians considered each other as Malaysians and not as Malays, Chinese, Indians and others; when citizens were proud to be Malaysians first.
I don’t wish to give the idea that everything was hunky dory, for it was not; but interracial relations were certainly much, much better than they are today.
Jamil knows this, of course. He was my classmate at King Edward VII School (KE VII) in Taiping. I was in KE VII from Standard One but Jamil joined in Standard Two and we were classmates till Form Six. KE VII was a huge influence on us.
Unlike today, KE VII Secondary School then had a good mix of students of various races. Every sports team, every school society had a healthy mix. The teachers too were of various races and they never showed any racial or religious bias; they did not wear their religion on their sleeves.
We had exemplary models to emulate in our teachers, especially our principal the irreplaceable Mr Long Heng Hua who would organise or encourage us to mix well. The school would organise gotong-royong events and other activities, including during Merdeka Day celebrations, when there would be a concerted move to make everyone understand that although Malaysians were of diverse origins, they were a united whole.
I still have a photograph that was taken during Merdeka Day celebrations in 1970 when we were in Form Five. Each class was to organise activities for that day and Mr Long and the school’s board of governors would visit to assess the work. Our class, Five A1, decided, among other activities, to have three students dress up in the traditional attire of the three main races.
(L-R) Jamil Ahmad, Lim Yu Chai and A Kathirasen in traditional attire during the 1970 Merdeka Day celebration at King Edward VII Secondary School, Taiping.And so it came to pass that Jamil sat in class dressed in the baju Melayu and songkok, I was in the vesti and jippa while Lim Yu Chai was in traditional Chinese attire.
Today, if an Indian were to call out to a Malay “Oi Melayu” or if he were to call a Hindu chap “Oi Hindu”, it could lead to a heated argument, even police reports and clashes. In those days, I could tell my classmate Aziz Salleh, “Eh Melayu balik kampung lah” and he could tell me, “Oi you balik India dulu lah” and neither of us would get angry.
In Form Five, Aziz taught me some Jawi words, including kap alif ta ya, which spells out the first half of my name. I remember a few to this day.
Today, Muslim students go for Islamic lessons and non-Muslim students go for Moral Studies – that itself separates them; that itself builds a sense of “we are different from them” in the young minds. Policymakers during my schooldays were smart: they made all of us attend the same classes so that we would not feel any difference. Islamic classes were held in the afternoons or just after the regular school periods were over. Students knew that this was an extra class; they didn’t feel they were separate.
Aziz and I were classmates from Standard One to Form Six and we would visit each other’s house frequently. Whenever there is a Hindu festival, Aziz still sends me greetings with pictures of Hindu deities because he knows that does not make him any less a Muslim.
On the field, we’d all be Edwardians or Tigers (as we were known) – not Malays, Chinese or Indians.
It was not just the school environment that nurtured the togetherness; our parents too were broad-minded and embraced everyone. My parents always encouraged me to mix with everyone so that I could learn from them too.
Outside school, I had a mixed bag of friends including Malays, Chinese, Indians, and one guy who was of Thai descent. We called ourselves Les Gurus, and we still keep in touch. I picked up a smattering of Hokkien from my many Chinese friends.
In those days, nobody would raise an eyebrow if a non-Muslim entered a mosque or a Muslim entered a temple. Today, all hell may break loose.
I have been to all the major houses of worship. When I was ill on one occasion, my father took me to the mosque where a pious-looking man chanted some verses from the Quran in a glass of water and gave it to me to drink. My father was a real Malaysian for he took me to see a Chinese medium on a couple of occasions, too.
I visited mosques in my youth and later in the course of my work.
In my teens, I went carolling with my friend Raymond Edwards and once acted as one of the three wise men in a play on the birth of Jesus Christ on Christmas Eve. I have sat in silence at Buddhist temples and I have prayed to Chinese gods at Chinese temples. I have joined my schoolmates Ranjit Singh and Tanvanth Singh to serve chapatti in the Gurdwara and I have bowed before the Guru Granth Sahib.
I believe most people of my generation were and are like that too. That is why there is a yearning for the “good old days”, the days of Tunku Abdul Rahman, our first prime minister.
We all want a nation where we can live in peace and harmony. A nation we can be proud of. I hope our political leaders are aware of this and will act more responsibly. - FMT
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.

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