This is a question I kept hearing every Merdeka for the past decade or so.
Perhaps I did hear it being asked when I was growing up but I really can’t remember my parents or grandparents being so introspective about the significance of August 31, 1957.
The memories of past Merdeka Days that come to mind are, of course, filled with absolute joy because it was, after all, another public holiday and that meant no school! However, we still woke up early and eagerly turned on the TV to watch the Merdeka Day parade.
I remember feeling such awe as I sat cross-legged in my pajamas in front of our old Phillips TV, watching as contingent after contingent marched with almost perfect precision in colorful uniforms and costumes. The crowd cheering them on and waving flags made me wish I was right there in the middle of the festive spectacle.
I remember looking on with so much respect at government ministers such as Rafidah Aziz, Samy Vellu and the man himself – Dr. M – in their dark blue t-shirts. I felt a sense of pride because my parents were both government servants too.
My dad always shared stories of how he was on duty on that August night in 1957, what the atmosphere was like and I felt deeply connected to the history of our nation. My mum never failed to tell me the trials and tribulations of an uncle who was in the police force prior to Merdeka and how he put his life on the line to fight for our independence.
My love for our country was so profound that it was hard to describe. All I knew was that I wanted to continue serving her as how my parents did and to fight for her when needed, just like my uncle.
So it’s surprising that I don’t really know when that loving sense of belonging started eroding.
Maybe it started with Ops Lalang, when I saw family friends arrested. These were good people who were detained without a trial.
It shocked me.
Maybe it was when I first started hearing the word “pendatang” and I started feeling insecure.
Maybe it was when it was drummed in to all of us that there are some people who are more special than others, that they had special rights and privileges we must never question. This puzzled me, and I asked my mum if it was like apartheid in South Africa.
She said no, but I wasn’t convinced.
It could have also been when we started noticing that Dad’s Muslim colleagues were suddenly not comfortable to dine at our home anymore after years of jolly feasting for Christmas and other celebrations.
I can’t pinpoint when I finally realised that when we were “home”, we were divided as Muslims and non-Muslims, but when we were overseas we were collectively Malaysians.
In the late 80s, I suddenly found myself saying goodbye to a lot of school friends who were then emigrating to New Zealand, Australia and Canada with their families for a “better future”.
I remember Dad’s friend coming over with migration forms, encouraging my dad to uproot our family and settle in Wellington.
Dad told him, “There’s no place like Malaysia lah. You will still be a second-class citizen no matter where you go.”
His words haunted me. Why am I a second-class citizen in my country of birth?
Soon Merdeka Days came and went as just like any other public holiday. If anything, it slowly became a poignant reminder of the superficiality of patriotism in Malaysia.
We are all Malaysians when it comes to taxes but for everything else we are non-Bumiputeras and non-Muslims.
We live under the same flag but for some of us we have been told to feel “grateful” to be “allowed” to live in this country our forefathers spilled blood, sweat and tears to build.
That August night in 1957, people from all walks of life, creed and religions came together to become an independent country. Sixty years on, we are a divided and fragmented nation, having fallen far from the ideals our beloved founding fathers dreamed of.
We are governed today by race-based politics and the rising tide of Islamisation that is affecting not just Muslims but non-Muslims as well.
Malaysia is finally on the map, but for all the wrong reasons.
“Kleptocracy” is a new word that has crept into our daily vocabulary and never before in the history of Malaysia has the US Department of Justice been followed so fervently by Malaysians from all walks of life waiting with bated breath for the other shoe to drop.
Before penning this column, I asked my social media followers what their hopes are this Merdeka. The general consensus was for change and justice; liberty for those wrongly behind bars and for greedy thieving villains to receive their just desserts. I wondered just how far off course we have veered as a nation from the day we gained Independence.
I still believe that Tunku Abdul Rahman’s proclamation of Independence at Merdeka Stadium is relevant, if not more important than ever today.
“Let no one think we have reached the end of the road. Independence is indeed a milestone, but it is only a threshold to a higher endeavour; the creation of a new and sovereign State…one that is inspired by the ideals of justice, liberty; a beacon of light in a disturbed and distracted world.”
This Merdeka Day, instead of wishing, ruminating and complaining, let us make a commitment to strive daily for justice and liberty and to always support those who do, however flawed they may be.
No matter how fragmented we are today, no matter how disappointed we are, I truly believe there is always hope.
Hope is precisely why I have chosen to remain in Malaysia despite being offered a “better future” elsewhere.
Hope is why I work for the current state government. They do not view me as a “second class citizen” and looked beyond gender, race and religion to hire me for the job that I do now.
In 1952, Tunku forged an alliance between the Malays, Indians and Chinese that went on to win the 1955 general election with an overwhelming majority. Now in 2017, we have forged an alliance of hope striving for liberty, justice and equality. Who is to say we cannot achieve a similar victory for Malaysia at the upcoming elections? After all, as Tunku said, “We are all Malaysians. This is the bond that unites us. Let us always remember that unity is our fundamental strength as a people and as a nation.”
Socrates sums it up perfectly, “The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new.”
If you are a true patriot, it is time to unite and start building a new Malaysia, the Malaysia that was meant to be in 1957.
Cecelia Alphonsus is the Chief Editor of SelangorKini, an anak Selangor fostered by Perak but undisputedly a true blue third generation Malaysian of mixed ethnicity.
