The first time this has ever happened to me, so Alhamdulillah! (I've been #1 at MPH as writer twice, but never at Kinokuniya). The list combines local and foreign, so this is also a rare instance where I can be on top of the likes of Mr. Brown, Mr. Grisham, Mr. Follet, Mr. Archer and Ms. Picoult.
And thank you, lovely Christians, for making book-buying and book-giving a very acceptable part of your holy celebration. (Book sales in December are by far the highest of the year.)
The scholar Amin Sweeney (who was English, Malaysian, formerly Kelantanese, formerly Californian, finally Jakartan) died last month. He specialised in Malay literature, and seemed to move between the discursive realms of both Malaysia and Indonesia with graceful ease; in fact, one of his last major works, a 3-volume critical edition of the works of Abdullah bin Abdul Kadir (aka Munshi Abdullah) was published in Jakarta rather than KL.
A particularly delightful essay by him is Martyr to Science or Gaseous Windbag of Colossal Ignorance? which is about ... oh, I shall not spoil it, read it yourself. He had, as you can see, a particular gift for the naughty, sharply observed aside. How many essays in academic books can make you LOL?
A short book of his was published online posthumously: Pusat Plagiarisme, which meticulously confirms a plagiarism accusation against an Indonesian linguistic body. Before he even reaches what Monty Python would call the fulcrum of his gist, he has a couple of sentences right on Page 1 that are not about the subject at all. But this aside is the perfect explanation for the prurience of Indonesians (but the nationality can be interchanged with ours, and in fact I think it fits Malaysians even better) when it comes to matters sexual:
Di negeri waras dan matang, tidak akan ada obsesi yang sakit parah dengan seks. Tapi dalam suasana represif yang penuh kemunafikan, tentu saja terdapat reaksi penuh gairah ala alhamdulillah—masyaallah—alhamdulillah—masyaallah. Tutup mata sambil mengagumi lewat celah jari.
I immediately thought of this quote when, a few weeks ago, there was a local Youtube sensation: a couple of Malay teenagers were making out in front of their friends; the phrase "pilih KLCC" was used somewhere. Almost all the comments condemned this couple to Hell with gleeful enthusiasm, with quite a few using their scandalous behaviour to explain why our region has lately been tsunami-prone. Yes, God in His wisdom sent down tsunamis to Sumatera because camwhoring KL teenagers get horny, which must mean (rather blasphemously) that He missed them by a few hundred kilometres.
The kissing = tsunami link might seem baffling, until you remember that some people in Malaysia take their worldview from Mastika magazine, in which sexual transgressors always receive lurid punishments, which are usually of the medical or supernatural variety but which sometimes, as in this case, explode into the realm of the meteorological. You rarely hear of such colourful bala (divine punishments) meted out to, say, corporate embezzlers, big-time environmental polluters or corrupt politicians, even though these people have caused harm to many people. No, it's invariably sex that takes centre-stage, simply because sex is a much more entertaining spectator sport. You get hot and tingly from not only watching but from the pleasurable moral outrage that courses through you. Alhamdulillah—masyaallah—alhamdulillah—masyaallah indeed!
Those of us who watched Malaysian TV circa 1990 would be familiar with the effeminate Sam (played by the actor Imuda) in the sitcom 2+1. I didn't watch every episode, but I do remember a few instances where Sam flirted with brawnier men. This made Sam not only lembut (soft) but gay, although I don't think his desires were ever permitted to be reciprocated.
Folks loved Sam. When the Information Ministry decided to ban the character, the TV viewers -- and by this I mean regular people (we aren't talking about gender/sexuality activists here, not that gender/sexuality activists aren't regular people too) -- were actually upset. There was even a play, Jangan Bunuh Sam (Don't Kill Sam).
Sam was a stereotype that anyone familiar with slapstick comedy will immediately recognise: the non-threatening, endearing, but faintly ridiculous queen. You could also say that his trademark phrase ("Here's my card!") identified him as being a peculiarly urban/bourgeois phenomenon: no 'manly' proletariat would carry around name-cards, or feel the need to proclaim their existence all the time! So I'm not saying Sam was such a progressive role model; he was a figure of fun. And yet, the fact that he existed at all, without howls of outrage from the majority of viewers, is proof that there is space for queerness in the popular Malay imagination.
It's not just Sam, of course. In my book 120 Malay Movies-- and a bloody entertaining book it is, too -- I identify the first gay male character as being in Kaki Kuda (1958) and the first lesbian as being in Nora Zain Ajen Wanita 001 (1967). The fact that both characters were campy villains need not detain us for now; what's important is that they existed.
And it ain't just fictional depictions, either. Stories about the jambu in male boarding schools, or kakak angkat in female boarding schools, would be familiar to anyone. And then -- surprise! -- some of these boys and girls do not outgrow this 'phase'. This is 2010. I think every Malaysian -- who isn't a hermit, or delusional, or unobservant, or all three -- would know at least one gay person. Gay attraction is certainly not a foreign concept.
With that in mind, watch this video, and read (or try to read) most of the comments. I will wait here while you do so:
OK. Welcome back.
My thesis -- and I do have one -- is that some people aren't appalled by the fact of Azwan Ismail's sexuality. What they are affronted by is that he's a person who's giving his own name, and being completely honest about what he wants to say.
We are a society that thrives of innuendo and nudge-wink insinuations. Most people are aware of local gay celebrities who 'cover line', sometimes to the extent of having lavish weddings. How long would these sham unions last, and how much unhappiness would they cause? Those questions somehow recede into irrelevance; what's important is that the values of the community have been upheld. By 'values', I don't mean marriage but hypocrisy. There's a perverse pleasure to be had in making people lie about themselves. What Azwan did, and he seems quite unprecedented in this, was to choose to tell the truth.
Despite what the newspapers are saying, the video isn't some gratuitous pengakuan berani mati (shockingly brave confession) but a response to the international campaign It Gets Better, which is meant to encourage LGBTQ youth not to feel alone or to despair. (Yes, the irony is that the mostly negative comments might end up having the opposite effect! But remember what whoever-it-was said about the longest journey.) And his is not the only Malaysian video, either; there are more to come. Unfortunately, this wider context has been drowned out, at least for now, by tabloid noise.
Azwan Ismail is a friend and I've known him way before he co-edited the bloody fantastic Orang Macam Kita. But even if I hadn't known him, I'll say that what he did was significant, right down to his decision to quote Shahnon Ahmad instead of, say, Shakespeare (so who says homosexuality is a 'Western invention"?).
What he did was violate a code. Not the code of sexual conduct, but the code of faham-faham ajelah or kalau ya pun, janganlah buat terang-terang. An analogy: Walk down the stairwell of any office building during a Ramadhan afternoon; you will find at least one Malay man surreptitiously sneaking a smoke. Everyone 'knows' this happens but no one makes a big fuss because there was an attempt at concealment. What Azwan did was, to some people, the equivalent of having a nasi dagang lunch during the fasting month, live on national TV. What's shocking isn't the fact but the openness.
There is, as always in our dear country, a political context, too. There's a sense of majority privilege about everything; and this is a majority that is very prickly and always seeing threats to its very existence. The newspaper Berita Harian that 'broke' the story also has this poll result:
Check out the result! Being Malay in this instance is analogous to being heterosexual; it's the majority, therefore its 'dominance' cannot be 'questioned'! To do so would let 'outsiders take over'.
The direct gaze of the video is why some people feel threatened. (And by 'some people', I mean also the middle-class gays who want to protect the comfortable 'Don't Ask Don't Tell' status quo that has provided a comfortably living. To extend the political analogy: these would be the non-Malay tycoons who got rich from Malay affirmative action policies, and thus don't want to rock the political boat.)
Yes, you might find the approach of the video, starting with its title, "Saya Gay, Saya OK" to be too direct, somehow 'unMalay'. Couldn't a euphemism have been used? You know, like "Saya Rama-Rama, Tak Mengapa" or "Saya Merpati, Nak Terbang Lagi" or something suitably fey? That would have been less provocative, perhaps. But what's done cannot be undone. Whatever happens after this, 'Sam' is not going away -- because, you see, he has always lived here.
The 4th issue of Selangor Times can be read/downloaded here. And as usual, there is a short story which I will duly blog. This is his first published piece.
In case you still can't get hold of Selangor Times (i.e. if you don't happen to be an LRT user in Selangor), this is the short story in its third issue!
If you want to write short fiction, do email your submission (about 800 words) to editor@selangortimes.com . Yes, there is pay! But perhaps more importantly (oh, listen to me!), it's a chance to keep something going.
Colin was standing over the sink with a knife in his hand. He looked down and realised his shirt was smeared with blood. With a shriek, he dropped the knife and turned around. On the kitchen table, a severed chicken head was engaged in a conversation with a cow’s head. The clucking and mooing became louder and louder, until Colin had to press his palms against his ears.
“I screamed at them to stop, and then I woke up,” Colin said. He lets out a sigh, and slumps back to the couch. Jonathan, his friend, was seated across him.
“Do you think it’s because of the job? My boss is crazy, and maybe the insanity is catching.”
Jonathan looked at him, but said nothing. Colin’s boss, Mr Wong, was one of the richest persons in Asia. After visiting a temple on his 60th birthday, Mr Wong handpicked a group of accountants from his companies, including Colin, to work in a special project under him. Colin was exhilarated at the prospect of working directly with the tycoon, but the excitement turned into incredulity after the first briefing.
Mr Wong wanted a big surplus in his ‘karma account’ to ensure he would have a good ending to his current life, and enough positive karma to carry forward to the next. He decided to compensate for any bad karma he has earned, and would receive, in the only way he knew; in dollars and cents.
The project team was split into two groups. The first group was assigned to put monetary values on the negative things Mr Wong had done in the past, and make a monthly recommendation of donation amount to be made to organisations. The job involved a lot of research and interviews to reconstruct Mr Wong’s life history.
Wouldn’t it be easier if you just donate a really huge amount, sir? Surely, that would cover everything, someone asked Mr Wong at the briefing. Mr Wong explained that excessive money would lead to sinful thoughts among the recipients, which in turn would bring more negative karma to him.
So the amount has to be measured and reasonably accurate, Mr Wong explained, before firing that guy on the spot. Later, he donated the fired guy’s two years’ salary to a charity, of course.
Colin was assigned to the second group which was responsible for the present. They had to discreetly observe Mr Wong, and place a value on his deed. After brainstorming and debating, the team agreed on a measurement system by using a karma factor. The karma factor was in proportion to the negativity of the deed. If Mr Wong purchased a chicken wing and ate it, the value would be the price of the wing multiplied by the karma factor of one. However, if he stole the wing and ate it, the karma factor would be increased to three.
Despite the ludicrousness of the endeavour, Colin actually enjoyed the first few weeks on the job. He had all-expenses paid visits to New York, Amsterdam and Monaco along with his boss, and the salary was good. Furthermore it was not as stressful as his previous position; all he had to do during his shift was to record Mr Wong’s actions, review them and assign a value to it. Someone in the office would compile them, and give out the appropriate donation at the end of each month.
Good life, easy money.
Then the nightmares started. There were a few variations to the theme, but always with a lot of blood and chatty dead animals. Once, he dreamt of soaking in a bathtub filled with blood with a swine. The beast, with half of its body roasted, was espousing the merits of socialism.
“I’ve a theory,” Jonathan said.
Colin turned towards Jonathan, and raised his eyebrows.
“How do you measure the value if your boss orders a huge steak, or half a roasted chicken?”
“That’s easy - I’ll use their prices on the menu, and multiply them by karma factor of one.”
“I believe here is where you got it wrong. You can’t just take the price of the food. The bad karma in this case comes from the loss of lives. Half a chicken is one dead chicken, and a quarter of a cow is still one slaughtered cow. So you have undervalued them.”
Colin thought about it for awhile, before nodding. “Thus I’m receiving bad vibes from them? It’s karma.”
The two of them sat there in silence. “You could be right,” Colin said after awhile. “Who really understand how this karma things really works, right?
