s m e l l y m a l a y - Part2

s m e l l y m a l a y - Part2

This is a fictional short story. Nothing related to present, past or future occurrence.

This article is second of a two-part series, to read the first part follow this link

Taiyuan, China, 15 February 2008

China is nothing short of breathtaking. Maybe as a globetrotter you could miss other parts of the world, but never something as vast as China. Luckily I got to know Zhou Chang three years earlier when we tagged along for scuba diving to one of Malaysian coral beaches, Zhou gave me a word that he’ll be more than glad to host me if I were to drop by China. Being a man of his words, here I am breathing the air of one of most industrious and emerging economic power of the world, the mighty China!

Upon arrival in Taiyuan (not to be confused with Taiwan), the size of this city is enormous. Its akin to Hong Kong, except this one sits nowhere near the sea of Chinese plateau (and minus the glamour Hong Kong has). According to Zhou, Taiyuan is among the richest state in China. I can see that, with tall beautifully designed buildings and modern roads that stretches into several lanes, there is nothing much a rich state couldn’t do.

It is cold over here. Zhou told me its going to be colder in the night. Zhou brought me to see some of Taiyuan awesome temples and monastery which originates as early as 950ADs. They have intricate carvings and elaborate construction method that took Zhou hours to translate each for me. If given time, I could have written a book about them and become rich!

Zhou promised me to take to Taiyuan Spaceport, I told him I’m not a big fan of themed park. The last time had gone to was Disneyland and it felt like my few hours of life were flushed down the drain. There were nothing much to see and too noisy for adventure seeking person like me (plus, the mascots are plain annoying though). Zhou laughed and reinstated that the Spaceport he meant is a rocket launch facility few kilos off Taiyuan metropolis. He meant real rockets with propellants that blast through the sky and put satellites into the orbit. My skin turned red feeling ashamed.

“ They’re going to launch a meteorology satellite tomorrow morning…. Its your chance to see a rocket really lift off” true indeed, along the many times I’ve visited the United States, I’ve never had the chance to witness a shuttle or rocket launch. While the Russian launch pads lays in the deepest region where snow perhaps never did melt and waiting for lift-off could be as painful as being in Gulag. Great! I will be there! Zhou smiled.

Zhou understands Taiyuan quiet well, he appreciate Malaysian warm climate and predicted that I would have some issues enduring the Taiyuan nights. My night was cold, even as I turn the air heater to the max. Early in the morning, the classic boiler-style water heater my accommodation had takes a few moments before its ready to be use. Brrr….. but I succeeded making it on time to the launch pad. A vast concrete plain with monolith scaffolding-like tower standing still. There were many people over there but Zhou regarded it as not-that-many. “You should have watched the crowd when China send its taikonaut few years ago”

I chatted with Zhou for a few minutes when our conversation was interrupted by Chinese official announcing something from the spaceport loudspeaker. I asked Zhou what they are saying. “ Please be aware that launch of highly flammable rocket will take place…please take your seat at the allocated area for your safety”, although Zhou sentence did not make much sense, I knew he is very excited about the launch.

I readied myself with the camera, to take the best possible shot when the rocket leaves the launch pad. Since its going to be fast, I set my camera in quick ‘multiple-shot’ mode so I can arrange the picture later in sequence. It will be interesting! Minutes later the countdown takes place. A deep voice with intervals of one second per utterance. Its got to be the countdown!

The ground did not tremble, but the skies were filled with the scream of the rocket engine. Birds are seen breaking apart from groups, shocked by the thundering roar of fire vomiting rockets.

The anticipation gets even more intense. Finally, the cranes detached from the rocket, and steadily the few thousand pound rocket ascent and leave the shroud of smoke it had initially poured out. As it rises, the rocket picked up speed and the fire jet become much visible. Zhou who is without camera clapped his hands. Plenty of other spectators began to scream or shout in awe.

But the still gloom Taiyuan morning sky was filled with glare. A sudden absolute white glare. Accompanied with thundering sound of explosion. Its apparently clear, the launch that day was a failure.A fiasco. A disaster! The rocket exploded mid air sending debris down to earth. I did capture those moments them on my camera. For a moment, I thought I was in a dream… but no… its happening, the rocket is gone, Kaboom! There was an atmosphere of pandemonium as the rocket went into oblivion.

Some of the spectators were seen running; yet, the debris will never fall onto this spot. The spectator spot is somehow been rigorously calculated by engineers to be a safe spot. Zhou seems flabbergasted, stunned, shocked and astounded. Outside the spectators bench, there were trucks parked with covered load bays. The truck wasn’t meant to be there for nothing. Military personnel rushed out complete with riot-control apparatus. We were prohibited from going out of the site. Instead, we were ordered to be calm and to squat like a group of illegal immigrant caught by RELA. The perimeter seems to be secured with rifle wielding Chinese military personnel.

One by one were called fourth, hence our possession such as bag; books and camera were checked thoroughly. Are they trying to catch the culprit of the rocket disaster? Is there a pocket-sized future weapon among the spectators that made the rocket fail? Zhou little notepad were confisticated, even his pen. My camera memory card was taken by the authorities. Luckily it’s not the camera that they took which costs the most to procure.

On the way back to the hotel, Zhou said there were nothing written inside the notepad other than addresses and numbers (which he sometimes had problems to remember). Zhou become somewhat emotional “ I had brother who mysteriously gone missing during Tiananmen protest of 1989, I’m prepared to let go of any ill thoughts about that, but each time I tried, things like this happens, Im very sorry my friend ” Zhou suddenly become emotional and reveals chunks of history that I didn’t know. I gazed upon the Taiyuan skies and wondered what made the people there too paranoid. Now that my memory card had become the state property for ‘security reasons’, I’m left with a useless camera. It’s as good as bringing along a brick.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia - 3 January 2010

I belonged to human race. Why are we so obsessed into categorizing things since birth? Our birth certificates had a column dedicated for race or ‘bangsa’ when we all are born into the world covered in blood and embryonic fluids, never any of us were born with garlands of flower around their neck or songkok on their heads. Though, I do not mind if our blood can be categorize according to its type and rhesus. The As’, the Bs’, The Os and negatives and positives. Since there is a scientific basis behind it. Through scientific findings, only certain blood can give to others and certain blood could receive from another, for that, I cannot question why God is being selective. But as human, I uphold the principle of equality.

I reminded my son that we never belonged to any race, we were never the ‘sons of earth’ which some pockets of irrelevant minded people emblazoned every day, yet, my children are obsessed with arts, traditions and etiquette which each of them will likely point towards a race or ethnic.

They would ask about baju kurung and baju melayu and why are they being called baju melayu? They were asking about foods like laksa, nasi lemak, puluts… and fondness of the meal to be associated with this race. Gabus, kompangs and dondang sayang all seems to be pointing to this race. Congkaks and silat pointing to this race. The race that I was thought to be belong to.

But I refuted, I explained to my children (with proof that I exhaustively tries to unravel) that laksa were just a fatter version of mee hon which originates from mainland China. Puluts are glutinous rice; a delicacy brought forth from India, we just renamed it. Congkak is a primitive game which, perhaps, the aborigines were the firsts to play. Silat? I asked my children to shift their attention towards silambam. Plenty other historical references which advocates the idea that this race is just a made up word – in short, a figment of imagination. A fictional race that ripped-off or steals other people tradition and lay claim its theirs. A type of segregation doctrine which itself denied the justification of human race commonality.

Its disturbing to know the fact that when my children went back to kampong, they admitted about feeling immense culture difference. The sight and sound, they really enjoyed it; I explained to them kampong is really nothing of a culture wonderland, but its just what the nature has to offer. I kept doing the Joseph Goebbels style of repeatedly telling my kids that the ‘race’ doesn’t exist over and over again so that someday they’ll believe what I recently believed.

They speak about courtesy and different dialects. I strongly kept them knowing the notion that courtesy can come from anybody and knows no race. Education intuitions in this country are shameful. They’re akin to incest. A race which is smart enough to say katak bawah tempurung, but too afraid to venture outside their circle. I guess, things are easier said than done.

Finally, the backwardness of this race is laughable. They will start to have red faces, stutter English pronunciation and even get mad. I witnessed several occasion chatting with the hulubalang of this race. I tested their patience to the edge. After all, what came out from my mouth are backed with fact. Facts that this race were never the original (even indigenous people), the fact that this race is just a bunch of refugee from Sumatra, the fact that aborigines were the firsts in this land, facts that there is no written consent about so-called contracts . But, I never tested their patience beyond the edge as I admit that amuck is a vocabulary coined after this race volatile mood swing. I pity and sorry for their backwardness, I hope someday they see the light of civilization. Or simply grow up.

Yet, I love to poke at the hulubalang which easily got offended when I say about their race (originally my race), I like it even more in the presence of other ‘friends’ which share my view about the quirkiness of this race. The hulubalang are childish, and each time they utter something remorseful I felt satisfied and say to my fellow friends “Hey! I’m different from them, I’m open minded and less dictated by irrelevant age old etiquette. I’m progressive!” . Each time the hulubalang responded with sinister, I felt fulfilled that I distanced myself from ‘them’ and had reached a higher echelon of intellect/maturity/liberty minus the racial pride a.k.a foolish pride. Finally, when the hulubalang kept silence, I took the stage and told my friends with confidence and pride “that’s why I never believed in this bullshit”.

I proudly referred those irrelevant people as ‘rednecks m’s’ or ‘typical m’s’, though my other ‘friends’ never had calling names for their chauvinistic counterparts, it seems I’m the one who is too knee jerk labeling around. Oh well, this is a brave new world which I had to position myself as farthest as possible from that race.

The feeling of parting from my own race is one word; sensational! I felt my voice is heard, my vision is well perceived and everywhere I go, I feel acceptable! I feel like I’am on the right track! I told my kids about this feeling, no matter what they think about it, I’m just being frank to them.

Maybe today, I might be the darling of society standing up for the mankind, well, someday, there will be a generation of this race which are wiser and in their right mind could defend their rights, uphold their identity and help amongst themselves without inviting hostility, prejudice and misunderstanding. They become vocal and pointed out things that is unequivocal. They read a lot of books, talked to lots of people, travelled here and there, had the same kind of exposure we had, work hard and earn well too. They will win the opinions of my ‘friends’ that lived together in this blessed nation and pushes people like me into the ‘opportunist’ den, or some dark corner. A smelly one, which forces us to survive minus the attention we thought we had. We were bare stripped that our mingling with ‘friends’ are rather dishonest. Even the aborigines will hate us for our sudden and hypocrite concern towards them. But for now, the moment is ours. Totally ours.