Time for reflection

Wednesday October 4, 2006


Time for reflection

MUSINGS by MARINA MAHATHIR

MY daughter ShaSha was in tears the other morning. She had intended to fast for half the day but while getting dressed for school, had forgotten and had eaten some cereal. So mortified was she that she refused to go to school. I had to spend a lot of time persuading her that she had done no wrong and that she could still fast if she wanted to. Eventually she agreed and after calming down, as I left her at school, she said she would still “fast” until lunchtime.

As children, we all wanted to fast. The idea of not having to eat seemed like a good thing, rather than having our mothers nag us to finish our rice and vegetables every day. What’s more, fasting was what grown-ups did, so to fast meant that, even if you’re only seven like my ShaSha, you are one step towards being grown-up. And oh, the joys of the breaking of fast with all the sweet drinks and kuih and all manner of good things to eat! I even enjoyed getting up in the wee hours for sahur, since it is the only time we get to eat in our pyjamas.

From her Ugama lessons at school, my daughter could recite all manner of puasa protocol. She can tell you when you don’t need to fast and how you need to replace missed days. But somehow her teacher had failed to tell her that at seven, it is not compulsory to fast yet. This is the sort of omission that makes for grief like the breakfast incident. She thought she had done something really bad.

To console her, I told her something which I had been told long ago in my own childhood and which has remained with me until today. I told her that when she thinks of good things to do, God immediately records it as merit, while if she thinks of something bad to do, then God waits until she actually does it to record it as demerit.

Nothing proved to me more that God is fair than this story, that He blesses good thoughts and even more good deeds. But knowing well human frailties, He allows us to think of nasty things yet doesn’t condemn us until we actually do them. I think understanding the compassion and forgiveness of God was what made her decide to carry on fasting despite her small mistake.

I wish often that adults would remember these particular traits of God, which we would do well to try and emulate. One can think of so many nasty things about other human beings but there is no real reason to act upon those thoughts by doing, saying and writing them in order to cause hurt and humiliation. No doubt there are many things that need to be said but there are equally many ways to say things. Rationally and calmly is one way that takes the sting out of one’s criticism without necessarily distracting from the substance of what one wants to say.

Yet many of my countrymen and women seem to unleash every single thought that occurs to them without once thinking whether what they say truly enlightens those on the receiving end, or just reflects back on themselves. I read comments on the Internet and have to wonder how countering racism with even more racism achieves anything. Lying, no doubt, has its uses but only for people with no conscience I suppose. Unfortunately, I have encountered many untruths about myself but it seems useless to do anything about them. I just have to take consolation that Someone knows the truth.

In this good month of Ramadan, we are supposed to not only cleanse ourselves physically by fasting but also mentally and spiritually. It may be a month that tempers the behaviour of Muslims but I find that in our country, our fellow citizens of other religions also tend to get more subdued. I know several who also fast during Ramadan, not just to keep their Muslim friends company. One friend, a Catholic, decided to fast during Ramadan, as a kind of offering to God because his mother has cancer. It’s also nice to know that those non-Muslims who just thought of fasting but then didn’t still got points for the thought.

Our thoughts do not necessarily get more benign during Ramadan. Indeed some people may use hunger as an excuse to be testier about everything. But at the same time, the restraint from eating also has the effect of restraining us from everything of a malicious nature. It makes you at least stop and think. And how many of us could do with that extra second of reflection?

Maybe what being religious is really about is pausing to reflect on what effect everything we say and do has on another person.

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It’s only polite

Wednesday September 20, 2006


It’s only polite

Musings: By MARINA MAHATHIR

WHEN I was about five years old, my dad spanked me for sticking my tongue out at our gardener, Pak Hashim. In our house, along with telling lies, this was a major sin. My nanny used to tell me that God would cut my tongue if I stuck it out, especially to older people.

Respect for older people was the credo of our family. We children were not allowed to be rude to anyone older, no matter who they were. This was why Pak Hashim, whom in fact we adored because he told us endless Sang Kancil stories, had the right to complain to my parents whenever we treated him with disrespect. And my parents took his complaints seriously and punished us accordingly.

Unsurprisingly, good manners became a major lesson of my childhood. I am notorious for constantly reminding my children to say “please” and “thank you”. None of them are allowed to call older people by their first names; they had to be “Kakak”, “Abang”, “Uncle” or “Auntie”.

It seems that I am old-fashioned in thinking this way. Good manners, which is the way we treat other people with consideration and respect, seems to be something that has flown out the window. We pride ourselves on Asian courtesy and hospitality but every day we see examples of rudeness and lack of consideration for others, whether on the roads or in the service industries.

Like everything else, courtesy depends on example. Children who are brought up by well-mannered parents learn these social rules early in life. What they don’t learn from their parents, they learn from observing the customs of wherever they live.

When I went to boarding school away from my home state and met schoolmates from other states, I observed they had different customs and I learnt to adapt. Living overseas also means having to adapt to different social rules; doing so is only polite.

The reverse can also be true. If we constantly see bad manners and behaviour, we think that is the norm and adapt accordingly. Impressionable children are particularly vulnerable to this. Thus we cannot completely blame them for bad behaviour without looking at the examples that are being set by adults around them every day.

We cannot expect children to learn good manners when they see leaders of our country behaving in impolite, crude and uncouth ways. These days almost anything goes when it comes to name-calling. Some public figures have no qualms at all about badmouthing people much older and wiser than them, just because they disagree with them. Instead of the old adage that the higher you go in life, the more humble you should be, arrogance seems to be the norm.

That Readers’ Digest report that gave us such poor marks for courtesy only surveyed the behaviour of ordinary people; imagine what they would have given us had they surveyed politicians!

Perhaps some people think that courtesy and politeness is too restrictive, even undemocratic. One should be able to say what one wanted about another person, regardless of how malicious and unkind your words might be, especially if you don’t like the other person.

Maligning the other person’s character seems to be a right but only for people in high positions where they feel they are untouchable, or those who hide under the cover of anonymity. Try to be rude about someone higher up the social pecking order than you (and be silly enough to do it under your own name) and see what happens! You get accused of being un-Malaysian!

I think nothing reveals people more than when they talk about other people. Name-calling and other forms of arrogant behaviour only reflect back on the name-caller. You have to wonder about their own upbringing; what did they learn in their childhood that makes them mouth off in this way? What are they so afraid of that, instead of reasoned argument, they take the easy route of maligning others? What is arrogance but a cover for some inadequacy? Sometimes you can even feel pity for them.

My worry is that with these examples, we will be bringing up a whole generation of people who lack the basic good manners that would allow them to live with one another, in our diverse society, in peace and harmony.

If everybody feels that it’s okay to constantly take and give offense, then we’ll spend our time constantly fighting. That’s not to say that we should not complain if someone is rude to us. But then why have reason to complain in the first place?

Sometimes I think we need to protect our children from witnessing such behaviour on the part of public figures. Rudeness is bad enough but how do we shield our children from hypocrisy?

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Restrictions on women

Wednesday September 6, 2006


Restrictions on women

Musings by MARINA MAHATHIR

IN 1993, I had one of the most profound experiences of my life. I went on the umrah (lesser pilgrimage) to Mecca and Medinah, Islam’s holiest cities, an experience that left me with two distinct impressions.

Firstly, there was no difference in what was required of men and women to perform the umrah. And secondly, that some of the rituals, particularly the sa’y, which commemorates Hajar’s search in the desert for water for her baby son Ismail (later to become a Prophet), were tributes to women, womanhood and motherhood.

I completed my umrah feeling newly enlightened and affirmed in my belief that Islam does not discriminate between men and women.

The saying goes that “man proposes and God disposes” but sometimes people act as if God only makes recommendations that we can chose to accept or ignore. This past week, according to news reports, Saudi clerics have proposed imposing restrictions on women’s access to the holiest site in Islam, the Kaaba. “The area is very small and so crowded. So we decided to get women out of the ‘sahn’ (Kaaba area) to a better place where they can see the Kaaba and have more space,” they said.

There are several problems with this explanation. Firstly, it is not so much a question of being able to see the Kaaba as being able to be near the Kaaba. If all Muslim men and women merely wanted to see the Kaaba, we can look at it on TV. But we know that touching al-hajar al-aswad (the black stone) at its south-western corner is the ideal way of initiating the tawaf ritual (circumambulation), and we love to caress the Kaaba’s walls and clutch the kiswa (the black cloth draping the Kaaba). Being shunted off to some remote corner of the Masjid-il-Haram effectively denies women access to this.

Secondly, and even more importantly, this is the first time in 1,400 years that anyone has proposed this. The Masjid-il-Haram or Forbidden Mosque (that is, forbidden to non-Muslims) is the only place in the Muslim world where men and women are not separated in worship. This has been ongoing for almost 15 centuries, linking us through a continuous chain of historic tradition that binds us to the Prophet in a deeply profound manner. All of a sudden, somebody decides that chain needs to be broken.

In Surah 66 of the Quran, titled Al-Tahrim or Banning, God asks Prophet Mohamad: “O Prophet! Why bannest thou that which Allah hath made lawful for thee?” While the context was specific to a particular situation, nevertheless the theme of these divine words is clear: what God says is halal, humankind cannot turn into haram (and vice versa). It stands therefore that for 1,400 years, God has had no problem with women praying at the Kaaba. Why change now?

Sure, there is a crowd problem at the Masjid-il-Haram especially during the Haj season when over two million pilgrims descend on the Holy Cities. But why solve this through gender discrimination? When the numbers of all-male pilgrims start to be overwhelming, would ethnic discrimination be the next way to solve that problem?

In Surah Al-Ahzab, God responded to complaints by women through the Prophet that there is no mention of them in the Quran and therefore some people had interpreted this as meaning that women do not matter. “Lo! men who surrender unto Allah, and women who surrender, and men who believe and women who believe, and men who obey and women who obey, and men who speak the truth and women who speak the truth, and men who persevere (in righteousness) and women who persevere, and men who are humble and women who are humble, and men who give alms and women who give alms, and men who fast and women who fast, and men who guard their modesty and women who guard (their modesty), and men who remember Allah much and women who remember – Allah hath prepared for them forgiveness and a vast reward.” (33:35).

The message of this ayat is that God viewed both men and women as His creations and therefore both had access to His attention if they believed in Him. In other words, God does not discriminate between the sexes. Why, therefore, should we?

I read about this new restriction on women with dismay. My experience in Mecca had affirmed my belief that my religion, Islam, is one that upholds equality and justice. I had faced no restrictions during the umrah and it remains in my memory a most moving and humbling experience. I stood by “God’s House” where, for centuries, millions of men and women had come to do their duty to God and had felt equally God’s mercy and beneficence. In imposing these new restrictions, does that mean that women are now undeserving?

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The way we were

Thursday August 24, 2006


The way we were

MUSINGS
By MARINA MAHATHIR

ONCE in a while, and getting more often these days, I get into a state of mind where I start thinking of where else in the world I might want to live. It’s been surprisingly hard to think of anywhere that would really suit me. I thought Bali would be nice but hard as it may be to believe, I think I would tire of lying around in a sarong getting massaged all day. Few other nearby countries appeal very much. Besides, if I’m going to be so close by, I might as well stay home.

I can’t think of any country in the West I’d really like to live in either. Sure I’ve visited many and have enjoyed those trips. But living there is another question. I could never live in the United States or Britain without every day wanting to tear my hair out at the idiocies of their governments. Nor could I live in Australia if I have to suffer listening to Howard every day. South America where I’ve never been has some appeal. Might be fun to learn to tango in Argentina.

The point is I really can’t think if anywhere I’d like to live in except Malaysia which is and has always been home. I love many things about this country, most of all the fact that it is multiracial and multireligious. I’ve said this before but when I used to live in very homogenous Japan, coming home felt like going from a black-and-white movie to a colour movie. It was so great to see so many different types of faces, hear so many languages, eat so many types of food each and every day. I like the easy lifestyle and my many friends. Why would I trade all this in for countries where I would always be considered an alien?

The thing is, in my darkest moments, I don’t recognise this country as the one I call home. I see increasing segregation among the different races in schools and universities and I worry about what Malaysia our young will inherit. Will it be the Malaysia that is a role model for multiracial harmony everywhere or will it be some other Malaysia where people get away with saying the most racist and supremacist things as if it was their right to say so?

I listen to some of our politicians and religious figures and I wonder whether we should call them Malaysians at all. (But then one poll says that some people identify themselves by religion first and nationality last.) Some people are even saying that the whole foundation of this country, the Constitution, is wrong. I reckon that’s not much different from burning the flag really.

I’d feel better about it if our leaders were protecting the idea of Malaysia with more gusto. On the contrary, I see the same leaders playing to the gallery. It would be nice if it was a gallery of tolerance and respect but it’s one of hate and suspicion. It’s one where everything is a zero-sum game; if you get it, I lose; therefore I have to get it so that you’ll lose. Win-win? They think that’s a Burmese name.

I grew up in a Malaysia where people cared enough and didn’t care enough. They cared enough about their neighbours to help when needed, but they didn’t care about their neighbours’ private business as a matter of respect. Now everybody wants to poke their noses into everyone’s private business, including into the impossible-to-verify one of personal faith. As a result, people take on the shallowest accoutrements of faith just to keep busybodies at bay. Even that is not enough for the sanctimonious sharks. They need blood, and cutting off chicken heads won’t be enough.

You can almost feel a near-hysteria in the air that, for some people, their country is being threatened by some kafir poltergeist. But then their “country” is one that comprises only one type of people, practises one religion exclusively, tolerates no diversity of opinion nor discussion, assumes the moral superiority of only one race and condescendingly tolerates the existence of others.

Their country is one where they wouldn’t dream of going into the home of someone of another religion, let alone eat with them, where the slightest thing is a threat to faith and therefore should be banned, where thinking is deemed satanic, where judgments are made on people at the smallest excuse, where people who are cruel, moralistic and sanctimonious are lauded as heroes of the race, where lies are blatantly told to get around everything.

I don’t know about you but that sad and confusing place is not my Malaysia. For Merdeka this year, I’d like to have it back please.

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Limitations on speech

Wednesday August 9, 2006


Limitations on speech

Musings: By MARINA MAHATHIR

I MUST say that I am at a loss as to what to write about this time. My head is full of things but no ideas come for this column.

For the past 17 years or so, I have written about all the things that I care about; women’s rights, children and young people’s rights, censorship, HIV/AIDS, politics and politicians and more recently, the impact of harsh and rigid interpretations of religion on our people.

In the past few years, I’ve felt that I’ve become a bit of a grump so occasionally I try and lighten the mood by talking about something relatively trivial. But the many people I meet or who write to me have encouraged me by saying that what I write about resonates greatly with them, that I somehow say things that they have been thinking about but don’t feel they can say.

I’ve never felt constrained in talking about whatever got my goat that fortnight, except by the need to be civil and my 800-word limit. Not everyone would agree that I’m always civil; certainly my editors have been known to edit out a line or two where they thought I have been a bit too irreverent about some people in authority, particularly those inclined to wear white robes.

But now I don’t know what to write about. I had wanted to write about how the environment in our local schools is turning out little racists (including my daughter) but I guess I can’t because that’s sensitive. I thought also of writing about how I’ve become addicted to reading blogs recently but then lately, the Internet and the blogosphere particularly have been deemed seething hellholes of lies and misinformation so I can’t talk about that either, at least not in the bastion of truthfulness, the mainstream media.

I’d like to talk about my religion and how self-appointed defenders have painted it as one that so lacks compassion, ignores justice and fairness and promotes inequality between men and women and between those professing it and those not. But then some people have cited me as one of those who really should not be allowed to talk because apparently I give the country a bad name. I guess people who storm forums, write untruths, scream and shout at people with different opinions give a better image of our beloved country. So I can’t talk about this either.

So what can I talk about? I don’t really know anymore. I guess the only safe things to talk about these days are cooking, celebrity gossip and fashion perhaps. None of which I am interested or good at writing about. Should I migrate to the cyberworld? But then, writing my column online would be like waving a red flag to all the keyboard-happy can’t-think-of-anything-nice-to-say-about-anyone lot out there and I really would rather not have a life more stressed than it is already.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that life is mostly about the mundane; getting up every day, sending kids to school, buying groceries, sending the car for servicing, that sort of thing. It would be great to be able to just get on with these, if one’s mind doesn’t get distracted by worries and concerns about what sort of country, now approaching its 50th year, my children will grow up in.

I look constantly for little glimmers of hope, that in fact, everyone in this country has to get on because we are so dependent on one another. But it would be nice if we could be inter-dependent comfortably, better still warmly, and with mutual respect. I don’t understand why I and some of my friends who have always spoken respectfully of everyone are the ones being censured while the ones who are blatantly being supremacist are not. How the world has turned upside down!

There are countries less advanced than us, like Pakistan, where people have a lot of space to say what they want. Some here may argue that that’s why they are not as developed as us.

On the other hand, there are also countries more advanced than us who also give people plenty of leeway to criticise, complain and argue. Many developing countries are also finding that the road to progress is bolstered by providing the many freedoms that their people hunger for, including that for speech.

We on the other hand are trying to emulate the least progressive countries, and are actually proud of it. I don’t know how given current circumstances, which admittedly are not new, we are going to take our place in the world. Unless the world is about to implode, in which case it’s a moot question. What a cheery thought!

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