Dog Satay

Despite extant rumours to the contrary, my partner has returned to suburbia and her apartment is still safe, all her belongings are there, accounted for, and not sold off to the nearest pawn shop. I have not run off with her car, money or any of her priceless paintings and/or jewellery. Her dog – whom I have fed and walked ever since her departure, had not been roasted, boiled, grilled, fried or otherwise made into a gourmet delicacy. And, despite us being of two different races our bond together is as tight as it ever was.

Friends and family are, no doubt, well meaning - that is to say they wish my love well, me on the other hand, being new to them and a Gwailo (white man or ghost man) they are not so sure of. It comes as somewhat as a shock, nay a disappointment, to know that I have been and am being watched and judged, literally taken at face value and stigmatized on racial grounds. It comes as shock - because we white people have been so good at doing exactly that, to so many races and peoples, over our long domineering history.

 

Malaysia, truly Asia - where it is advertised that all races live in a harmony as perfect as the durian harvest will permit, is deeply racist. I came across this disharmony a little at a time. Small things like antique slang words for other races - tiny insignificant slur words dredged up from the history of the federal states still have the power to stab with their barbs and innuendoes. Notions that this or that other race is lazy, stingy, smelly, ignorant or simply waiting to rob you blind (apparently), prevail in a country ever being divided along racial or religious grounds.

 

The golden age (retrospective illusion) dictates that twenty-five years ago all was perfect in the world, and therefore by default –Malaysia. The races, when not intermarrying, ate together, drank together, laughed, and joked at pretty much the same things. On the internet we can espy ageing posters of Malays advertising beer, see images of mixed race dances and coffee houses where those eating pork or drinking alcoholic beverages, and those forbidden to by religious laws sit side by side - enjoying each other’s company.

 

Was there racial tension behind those poster smiles and air-brushed advertising – some would have us believe so. Some would argue that racial harmony is no retrospective illusion, but a myth instead. They would debate as to whether it is, or was ever, possible for the three predominant races in Malaysia to get on together, let alone accept a fourth – a white race into their bosom, despite the remarkable evidence to the contrary.

 

Everywhere I look in my little suburbia I see mixed race couples. They, and we, partake of fusion food, and hear a lingo - seemingly a hotchpotch of Malay, English and whichever language the speakers wish to inject into their earnest conversations. Evidence of the coming together of Malaysian races is everywhere, but steadfastly denied by those with a politic to do so. To add to the mix, many white men (Orang Puteh, Mat Salleh, Gwailo) have successfully married into one or other of the races in Malaysia. Some have changed religion to be with their heart’s desire; others have simply adopted leanings towards goat curry and dosai or prawn mee and pau.

 

Clear evidence of the longevity of these mixed race marriages is all around in Malaysia, but more especially within the apartments and condominiums of suburbia, my dear suburbia, where rojak marriages produce mixed race children who sparkle with health and intelligence (another myth). For myself I can only but point to all the successful mixed race marriages clearly evident amidst the professional strata of Malaysian society - where no-one has run off with the belongings or possessions of the other, despite their colour, creed or religion, nor have roasted, boiled, grilled or fried any form of domestic animal either, as far as I know that is – dog satay anyone?