When I was young, this day was among the most
anticipated day in my school years. This was a day celebrated with grandeur and
enthusiasm, absurd joy and spirits. We short kids would sing patriotic songs
every single morning during the assembly, which consists of yelling our hearts
out rather than singing, starting from the beginning of August . The teachers
stood together with us and sing wholeheartedly, and although I did not know the
reason for such epic celebration, it was really amazing.
My school held a competition for
classes; Merdeka themed decorations . The class with the most creative
decoration would win hampers and snacks, the master of us kids. The whole month
is spent with cutting and drawing and hanging stuff up the window sills,
painting the walls with red and white stripes , making the complicated stars
and quarreling with each other. It was seriously fun.
We kids rode bikes to school back then, and
the headmistress made a competition of the most beautifully decorated bikes.
Some bicycles had dozens of flags; you can't even ride it without getting blown
off the road. My friends would gather around those ostentatiously decorated
bikes and brag like adults do. We were kids, we do what we want, so shut up.
There was also a drawing
competition ,where you draw posters that should show your patriotism; mine was
always a big flag with terribly crooked stars. I really know how to draw, but in
an abstruse way-perhaps. My school's language department held an annual essay
competition for the glorious Independence day. I wrote a terrific story about the catharsis
of a soldier in the maelstrom of war, where he died, bombed in pieces in the
end. It was depressing back then, just to write the title.
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| no idea what are we doing here |
By the end of the month, my beloved school would become a magnificent
place with ornate walls and flags everywhere. The classes were scrupulously
decorated, somewhat beyond imagination. My class would always lose, because we
maladroit kids had too much creativity to transform it into reality. Failed
ambitions ,sort of.
That was eons ago. My feelings
about the celebration is now a dichotomy of two eras; my childhood when I
understood none of the reasons, and the present , when I see crap everywhere. I
have the inner urge to feel happy today, even to sing alone in this
claustrophobia-inducing room, or to write a post about it, but it feels
terribly incongruous and absurd.
The joy of celebration
diminishes along the years. Even the teachers hate the patriotic songs now-they
sound incredibly sad , although forever better than Rais Yatim's song. There
are no flags along the streets or any houses in the town.
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| sup bro? |
How can I celebrate Independence
when I live with constraints? I can't wear a yellow shirt in fear of political
taunts and jabs. Our leaders are pure and free of criticism. Sinless. Certified
devils, as the former prime minister said.
How can I celebrate Independence
when the prices of goods keep skyrocketing, and my pocket got big holes in it?
We started off 55 years ago with the same pace as Korea, Taiwan and Singapore,
and just how far behind are we?
Walk around the streets in my
place and see with thy eyes the proof of the permanent legacy of the
imperialists; kids my age who love discos and admire alcohol and sex. Freedom
at its best.
You don't have to love the
government if you want to love the country. You don't have to choose those
corrupt and pretentious skullduggers if you love Malaysia. Yes, I choose
Malaysia, and I love this country, but
the big blue tick in the tv ads was terribly unnecessary.
"Saya pilih untuk
setia. Saya pilih kemajuan. Saya pilih Malaysia. Big blue tick drawing
commences"
Hahahaha.
Peace.
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