CQ#4

C Q

MALAYSIANS ABROAD Five Malaysians open up on their overseas odysseys

SILVER LINING A moment in the heart of Jakarta

ABORIGINAL CINEMA A look at Bran Nue Dae and The Sapphires "

#4 | AN INDIE POWERED MAGAZINE!

HOME AND AWAY

THE TALES OF TRAVAILS AND TRAVELS

RISING SUN A solo adventure in Japan

BEING BLACK Al Ibrahim discusses how all lives matter

EASTERN PROMISES CQ talks to Jasmine Suraya Chin

EYES ON MALAYSIA Inside the outsiders’ perspective on Malaysia

COFFEE PHILOSOPHY Chance encounters at the cafe

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EDITORIAL NOTE! Editorial Board “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“The sea.”

A haunting revelation, it’s always going to be. That’s how it has always been, and it has always been magical, despite how tragic it may be.

In this issue of CQ Magazine, we give you thoughts of home and the ideas of being away. A young woman spreads her wings, taking the first tentative steps into the bigger world out there. A man writes about the experience of growing up in a certain colour. On that same topic, another speaks of how her skin meant many mistake her for others.

A young man away from home recalls a moment of peace in the eye of the storm.

Yet another considered representations of natives in their own home, how these narratives are presented and shaped by cinematic conventions to become truths in the eyes of many. Speaking of perspectives, five Malaysians talk about their lives in foreign lands, before eleven non-Malaysians return the favour.

These are the tales, wide and varied.

Many have opened their hearts to share, to write, to pour all thoughts and feelings out. Why? Perhaps to run from the chains, like I once did, or just in hopes of finding a new home. It is a wonderful journey, and I hope you, dear readers writers, musicians, artists, whomever you may be - would find a comforting home in here, no matter where you are.

DEA ISHAK SUB EDITOR

“But you’ve already lived there your whole life.”

“I know.”

What is home? Growing up, I’ve always thought that I was destined for bigger places and bigger things that would cater to my even bigger dreams. More than the small town I grew up in ever could. I longed for an explicable escape; to run, to be free. Only to realise that running away did not feel as liberating as I thought it would. No. I was tied down even more by my ambition and dreams that consequentially came with even bigger obligations. Perhaps I’ve had too high of an expectation. Perhaps it was too much to ask for. I can’t tell you. But over the years, I’ve come to realise that I will always and forever be chained. Not to those big cities and dreams I’ve ran off to in vain hopes to find a new home and a place to belong. I can’t find it here. My home is not here.

My home is the place I’ve dreaded but loved at the same time my whole life. The place I’ve always longed to escape from, but is, every time, my hardest goodbye.

The place where the waves comfort me with their songs while I sit down to write mine. The place where I kept falling, and falling hard, but the stars keep listening to my misery. The place where I realised that only the crystal clear seawater can bend and heal my broken soul. That’s my home. It may have taken me a while to realise it, but I did. #

Magazine is an indie powered e-publication for creative explorations adhering to a high standard CQ of professional writing and journalism. The opinions of contributors do not necessarily represent the view of CQ Magazine.

Design inspired by Swedish Film magazine.

Licensed under Creative Commons.

EDITORS IN CHIEF FIKRI JERMADI WANI ARDY

EDITOR AT LARGE EZZAH MAHMUD

SUB EDITORS AISYAH EZRAL DEA ISHAK EQHA ANWAR KIMI ISMAWI MARIA ADIBAH AZMI NAJIHAH NAJMUDDIN SITI NOORAIN ZAIDAH Z

CONTRIBUTORS AAKRITI MANDHAWI ABAH AL IBRAHIM DEA ISHAK GISELLA LIVIA LIE JASMINE SURAYA CHIN KAY NAJWA YUSOF RAHIM RAMLI SHEMSI ELSANI STEPHEN ANTONIO SUE RUSLAN WANEE HASSAN ZAIDAH Z

LAYOUT DESIGNER ADI ISKANDAR

FRONT COVER MARK SMITH / FLICKR

cqmalaysia.blogspot.com

@cqmalaysia

cqmalaysia@gmail.com

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CONTENTS!

41 IMAGE: AZLAN DUPREE / FLICKR!

24

14

IMAGE: CHARLES WIRIAWAN / FLICKR!

IMAGE: JASMINE SURAYA CHIN!

38

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IMAGE: HADI ZAHER / FLICKR!

IMAGE: TONY WEBSTER / FLICKR!

8

34 IMAGE: ZAIDAH Z!

3 THE CAFÉ AAKRITI MANDHAWI! 6 STRANGE STREETS DEA ISHAK! 7 NYAMUK ITU CELAKA NAJWA YUSOF! 8 #GROWINGUPBLACK AL IBRAHIM! !

12 PEREMPUAN SUE RUSLAN! 14 CHALLENGING AFFIRMATIONS GISELLA LIVIA LIE! 17 BONDA WANEE HASSAN! 18 SMILES, LAUGHTER AND BLISS STEPHEN ANTONIO! !

20 WHAT IS THAT YOU WEAR OVER YOUR HEAD? ADI ISKANDAR! 24 EASTERN PROMISES JASMINE SURAYA CHIN! !

30 THANK YOU, GHOST RAHIM RAMLI! 32 KAU SIAPA KAY! 34 DARI KERAMAT KE KUMAMOTO ZAIDAH Z! 37 COMEL DAN COKLAT SHEMSI ELSANI! !

41 WHAT MALAYSIA MEANS TO ME COLLAGE! 45 DI JIWA ANTIPLOT ABAH!

FEATURE AAKRITI MANDHWANI You and I; now we look out for our elusive writers sitting alone in a coffeehouse that is almost always quiet throughout the day.

They have with them a mouldy, almost wilted old book in which they seek their company. They smoke by themselves and look out of the window occasionally, surveying the sky perhaps and drawing out little visions for them to mull over. We see them because the coffeehouse is next to the discount store we frequent for our own morning cup of tea. Our tea comes from a machine, because it is nine a.m., and we are always running late for work. We hope to see them everyday, and then, when our luck isn’t as frozen as our hearts, we do find them looking out from exactly the same window as before. They almost always wear the same kind of clothes; we find them lounging in their most comfortable pair of shoes. Their repose is consistent; I’d say that it is almost infectious. The mood seems to seep through the window. Very engaging. Only one thing changes. They seem to exchange their authors with the tenacity of a spider.

The authors cut across ages and timelines; their reading knows no consistency. And that makes us want to know them better.

He is such a man. I saw him this morning again. He was reading the latest Murakami.

I could see the corners curling up already.

Age creeps to books when they rest in the hands of some. Crumbs of bread on his plate, he seemed to have made himself some toast already. Eight a.m. The world seemed hazy because it was raining. But it was a Sunday, and we had nowhere to go; my umbrella and I. So I went into the coffeehouse and skipped the Georgia machine. I deposited my umbrella at the counter, and stepped inside the sitting area.

I sort of know the owner of the establishment. I rent my apartment from him. He told me to warm myself near the heater; one could not take chances in such rain, and on a Sunday too. The doctors don’t work here on a Sunday, and the City Hospital is nearly forty minutes away.

So I warmed myself, and took a seat next to the writer’s table.

He did not speak to me. He looked up to see who it was; he gave me a sign of recognition. He knew me from my earlier visits to the coffeehouse, and perhaps even from the outside of it. But that was where it ended. He went on with his reading like always, taking notice of no one again but the book in his hands. He never wrote in the cafe. But I know he is a writer because I have seen his pictures in the magazines.

I feel devastated sometimes. It does not have to with anything outside of me. Maybe it is just this motion of life overtaking me. It makes me feel weaker everyday.

The Cafe TEXT: AAKRITI MANDHAWI !

IMAGE: NICK GOULDEN / FLICKR!

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The world seemed hazy because it was raining. But it was a Sunday, and we had nowhere to go; my umbrella and I

FEATURE AAKRITI MANDHWANI

I myself prescribe to certain books: I read Kerouac now. Only that my Kerouac is not moth-eaten. The book has been preserved.

My book would not compare to his: he works at his books with the precision of a flower collector out to make fossils of a rose. Pressed neatly in a scrapbook, those roses take time to die out. But when they do die, it’s almost picturesque: they somehow keep their colour; they preserve their old charm.

I never liked fresh roses anyway.

The writer never spoke to me even today, as I just told you. Two hours went by.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Several gin-soaked men came into the cafe with a wish to drown their last night’s sorrows in the morning’s coffee: the proprietor promptly threw them out. Some sparrows turned noisy in the rain outside. A very beautiful woman walked in with her dog chained to the main door: she just asked for a roll which she promptly tossed to him; I heard the writer mutter something to himself amidst excited yelps of her dog and the strays that watched from the outside, their noses pressed to the glass.

Two hours, and then I saw him get up. He went outside to smoke. He bought a roll for the strays, and stood smoking next to them for ten minutes, keeping to himself. Then suddenly the florist outside sprung into action. Words were exchanged. The writer bought a red rose in full bloom. It was comical, really. Strays at his feet, cigarette in hand, grey strands of hair, and now a red rose. This could be a scene out of a French movie now.

The writer came back inside, a little wet from the falling rain. He asked the proprietor to settle the bill, packed his book in his bag, and left the rose at my table without a word as to why. I think I expected that to happen all this time.

Kitsch. I was the only woman in the cafe.

The rose was destined to come to me.

Originally published in Ex Nihilo, a bilingual print magazine in English and Bengali for college students.

IMAGE: MCKAY SAVAGE / FLICKR!

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POETRY DEA ISHAK

Strange Streets TEXT: DEA ISHAK !

IMAGE: YIANNIS THEOLOGOS MICHELLIS / FLICKR!

These streets feel strange

Distant, like a faraway land

They feel foreign,

and I am a tourist

But I know this smell

the breeze brings in,

of salt and sand that used to

Wound and heal

once when I was innocent,

I remember the trees

and branches that wave past me;

The very ones that whispered

a sorrow goodbye when I left

And come night, I recognise

the bright stars that outshine

the black skyline; the ones I can rely on

to guide me the way back to

where I once was, and now I know

even though these streets

feel strange and distant,

I am home.

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CERPEN NAJWA YUSOF

Nyamuk Itu Celaka TEXT: NAJWA YUSOF IMAGE: ALDEN CHADWICK / FLICKR!

Nyamuk itu celaka. Aku duduk relax-relax takde kacau sesiapa sambil menghadap laptop sambil menulis sambil stalk Twitter dan Facebook manusia sambil berangan tentang masa depan yang penuh glamorous walau hakikatnya bayang kecerahan itu masih tak nampak lagi sambil itu dia sedap-sedap hirup darah AB daku.

Sekali tepuk, mati seekor, rupanya dia bawak partner nak memuaskan nafsu darah di kakiku yang gebu (pfftttt). Nyamuk itu celaka. Â Sambil menulis, imaginasi tentang popularnya diri ini tak pernah padam. Ya, sedari kecil aku memang ke arah ingin menjadi manusia yang dikenali dalam bidang entertainment. Ketika umur 6 tahun, bila budak-budak seusia mempunyai citacita yang sangat klise seperti doktor, cikgu dan peguam, aku sudah sematkan di hati nak jadi penyanyi. Ya, kecik-kecik lagi dah lagha. Terima kasih atas dorongan mak cik "tercinta" yang mengalakkan anak

saudaranya yang belum masuk darjah satu itu supaya menjadi Siti Nurhaliza. Setiap hari ditadahkan dengan air asam jawa dengan harapan suara anak buahnya merdu persis Ziana Zain atau Ramlah Ram mahupun Shima. Tapi sayang seribu kali sayang, benarlah kata pujangga orang tuatua, kalau memang dah takde talent, kau minumlah air asam jawa sebaldi tiap hari tetap tak sedap jugak suara kau.

Persoalannya sekarang, wujudkah pujangga sedemikian? Â Ya, aku mula tidak pasti ke mana arah tuju karangan SPM ini. Oh ya, tentang celakanya binatang bernama nyamuk.

Sambil mencaruti nyamuk-nyamuk yang menganjing kerana mereka telah terlepas dari tamparan bimasaktiku, tiba-tiba perhatianku dialih dengan satu artikel tentang Aaron Aziz dan isterinya. Haishh...

Kenapalah handsome sangat Aaron ni?

Andainya aku menjadi manusia terkenal dalam bidang entertainment, mungkinkah

aku berpeluang berpeluk dengannya dalam satu atau dua filem? Mungkin filem adaptasi novel arahan Mamat Khalid. Tapi jika Mamat Khalid yang menjadi direktornya, adakah kemungkinan besar filem romantik komedi anganku bertukar menjadi filem berkejar-kejaran dengan segerombolan zombie? Hmm... Â Sekali lagi lagi perhatianku dialih dengan iklan supplement pemutih. Oh, betapa mudahnya konsentrasiku diganggu bukan?

Banyak betul ubat putih sekarang ini.

Semuanya menggunakan artis sebagai duta sebagai pelaris produk. Maklumlah, semua nak cantik dan putih seperti selebriti. Mungkin aku pun patut cuba supplement pemutih itu. Mungkin lepas tu David Teo akan mengajakku untuk mengikat kontrak bersama Metrowealth.

Apa pendapat pembaca? Ciss! Gigitan nyamuk berdenyut kegatalan. Celaka punya nyamuk!

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POETRY WANEE HASSAN

Keajaiban Doa TEXT: WANEE HASSAN IMAGE: ALI MIR / FLICKR!

Doa adalah bumbung paling keras, Melawan petir berdentum ngeri, Melindungi malam hari menjaga rapi, Maka aku menjadi kecil dengan menadah tangan, Menyedari akan hinanya sekeping hati. Â Doa adalah payung paling teduh, Menampung panas menghalau basah, Peneman pada jauh dan dekat setiap langkah, Maka aku ini cuma bisa berasa tenang, Bersujud kembali pada pencipta diri. Â Doa adalah kaca mata paling tebal, Menangkis silau kerlipan cahaya, Meredup pandang sinar bianglala, Dan jika pun aku ditumpaskan berkali-kali, Aku berpegang teguh pada doa, Senjata abadi.

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FEATURE AL IBRAHIM

#GrowingUpBlack TEXT: AL IBRAHIM! IMAGE: ANNETTE BERNHARDT / FLICKR!

A few weeks ago, I woke up to a notification on Twitter telling me that a few of my friends were tweeting with the hashtag #GrowingUpBlack. This is not unusual. I get these kinds of notifications every time some username or hashtag starts trending in my network. # # #RachelDolezal. @BreeNewsome. #BlackLivesMatter. You get the idea.# #

What was unusual about #GrowingUpBlack was that most of the people tweeting this (in my network) were from Nigeria. This, I found strange.# #

You see, I was born in Nigeria, and for the first seventeen years of my life, I lived there without so much as stepping into neighboring Niger. For all those seventeen years, “black” was never part of my identity. # # Don’t get me wrong, I had no delusions of being white, or Hispanic, or some other socially constructed other. I was very much aware of my blackness, thank you very much; it just didn’t matter. # # Back then, if you stopped me in the middle of the street and asked me to describe myself in one word, I would probably say “guy”. If you pushed, I would say “short”.

Then “Muslim”. # #

“No sir, I’m Fulani.”# # “Yes ma'am, I’m from Azare.”# # Back then, “black” would never have made the list. And if by some reason it did, it would probably be somewhere in the hundreds after I’ve exhausted all my #4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 9

IMAGE: PAME FIGUEROA / FLICKR!

FEATURE AL IBRAHIM

vocabulary.#

Afghanistan, but you don’t think of all the other heads of states that the United States helped overthrow.#

narrative as the only narrative – that’s American imperialism.#

#

Those ten-year-old kids, I’m going to wager that their only experience with a black person is from American TV. Seeing me, and seeing that I look like the black people they see on their TVs – if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck… well… you know how the saying goes.#

#

It wasn’t until I moved to Malaysia that “black” started creeping into my identity.

And now, almost nine years later, if you asked me to describe myself in one word, I wouldn’t even have to think about it: #

Nine years ago, I was short before I was black; now, I’m black before I’m a man.#

When you think of American Imperialism, you don’t think about the literature you consume. The books you read. Poetry.

Music. The magazines you browse through while waiting in the doctor’s office. You don’t think about the ads you get bombarded with every single day on all the billboards, posters, and flyers.#

#

# Chris Rock has this joke in one of his acts about going to South Africa and feeling completely out of place. It makes perfect sense, if you think about it. I’m not black the way Chris Rock is black. We are not black the way African Americans are black.

Our cultures are different. The things that shape our identities; our histories are different. I’m going to go on a limb here and say that Chris Rock probably has more in common with Jerry Seinfeld than he does with me.#

When you think of American Imperialism, you don’t think of Hollywood. Of the Oscars, Golden Globes, and Emmys. You don’t think of American TV shows. Friends.

The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. MTV and Cartoon Network. #

# “Dude, I’m black.”# #

#

When you think of American Imperialism, you probably think of Vietnam and Korea.

Maybe you even think of Iraq and

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#

When I see things like #BlackLivesMatter on Twitter, I know it’s not just an African American issue, and not just because of some altruistic sense of shared humanity or some misplaced notion of being “a citizen of the world”. No. # # I care about #BlackLivesMatter for the very selfish reason that it affects me personally.

Not in some Niemöllerian when-they-camefor-the-Jews sort of way, but in a very real and direct way. Whatever happens to black people in America will inevitably come back and affect me. Why? Because I’m a black person living in a world oversaturated with white American narratives of black people.#

# Just the other night, a friend of mine who grew up in Belfast was telling me how when she was young, she really wanted to go to America. Not because she’d been there before, not because she’s necessarily met any Americans, but because TV. Because Movies. Literature and Music. Magazines.

Ads. #

#

A few weeks after moving to Malaysia, a group of ten-year-old kids were walking towards me, and as they passed, one of them shouted “What’s up?” in what I assumed was his attempt at an American accent. At the time, it didn’t make a lot of sense to me. In fact, I remember thinking – Dude, I’m the wrong kind of black.

#

#

# America is always imposing its American ideals (read: white) on the rest of the world.

White people telling white stories as universal stories. White people telling “nonuniversal stories” from the perspective of white people. White people telling stories of people of color, but within the white narrative. Because the white narrative is the only narrative worth telling. The white

#GrowingUpBlack has tweets about using Vaseline as lotion, hair grease, and chapstick. Tweets about having plastic bags full of other plastic bags. About using the margarine/ice-cream containers for storing leftover food. Things I used to think were uniquely African. Exclusively Nigerian. #

This is the first time in the history of the world that so many marginalised and

FEATURE AL IBRAHIM

IMAGE: TONY WEBSTER / FLICKR!

underrepresented people are able to speak up and tell their own stories. Without social media, we wouldn’t have Black Twitter. We wouldn’t have #ArabSpring. #NigeriansAtHogwarts. #StayWoke. Then again, we wouldn’t have #CecilTheLion either, and honestly, I could’ve kept on living my life without that. But alas, you can’t have one without the other. You can’t “give everyone a voice (except the stupid people)”.#

Those ten-year-old kids, I’m going to wager that their only experience with a black person is from American TV

that if you’re not under there with them, then you’re either an idiot, or they are. A hashtag is the ultimate Us VS. Them marker:# #

I’m #BlackLivesMatter not #AllLivesMatter.

I’m not #JesuisCharlie, but the murder was #NotMyIslam. #JeSuisAhmed.# # The truth is, using Vaseline for the body, hair, and lips isn’t anymore uniquely black than storing leftovers in empty ice-cream containers is exclusively Nigerian. But right now, I’m fine with both being things that come from #GrowingUpBlack, because, if nothing else, it means black people are talking. # # We now have our own little umbrellas popping up all over the web, and come rain or shine, you’ll find us under one or a few of them – united, together – telling our own stories on a global scale.

First published on Yanani, a portal about Northern Nigeria.

#

The hashtag is this insidious thing that makes you think that everyone is united under one umbrella. It makes you believe

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POETRY SUE RUSLAN

Perempuan TEXT: SUE RUSLAN IMAGE: PETER DAHLGREN / FLICKR

Perempuan, sering diperlekehkan, Diperkotak-katikkan, Direndahkan maruah mereka, Seperti sesuatu yang tidak berguna.

Malaikat penggoda, Yang menggoda hawa nafsu si Adam, Ke lembah maksiat dan haram.

Bidadari syurga, Membuat si Adam memuja mereka, Sifat terpuji dan mulia, Membawa ke jalan syurga.

Perempuan, bersifat penyayang.

Dahagakan kasih sayang, Dari sang Adam, si pujangga bayang.

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FEATURE GISELLA LIVIA LIE

Challenging Affirmations Gisella Livia Lie sheds light on a small but important part of Australian cinema through The Sapphires and Bran Nue Dae IMAGE: MICHAEL LOKE / FLICKR!

How do we see the world? Gill Branston and Roy Stafford argued that no matter how compelling some media images might seem, they never actually present the real world. They are always constructions and representations, assumptions generated by powerful people in society. Certain images, stories and situations, which are often represented by media, will possibly seem familiar. As a result, it will give society ways of imagining particular groups and identities. This process is considered as stereotyping, which works by taking particularly obvious features presumed to belong to a group.

I will take a look at certain general assumptions of Australian society, focusing on issues related to race and national identity. The rise of aboriginal films from a number of years ago have necessitated a deeper analysis on whether these assumptions are affirmed or challenged. In particular, the musical comedy-drama films, Bran Nue Dae, directed by Rachel Perkins, and Wayne Blair’s The Sapphires, will be provided as further food for thought in this context here. In short, Bran Nue Dae tells the journey of an Aboriginal teenager who tried to find his way back home after running away from a boarding school.

Touching on a similar theme, The Sapphires features four Aboriginal sisters on a journey of their own as they sang for American soldiers during the Vietnam War.

It almost goes without saying that race is one of the most common stereotypes in films. Again, Branston and Stafford considers race as the category that usually divides people via observable differences in appearance like colour, hair and bone structure. By and large, the Aboriginal race 14 | CQ MAGAZINE | #4

is often underrepresented in media (very few films show their presence), so when their characters appear, they are often regarded as representations of their whole community.

Perhaps this is a time to consider assumptions made of the Aboriginals. One relates to relative inferiority when compared to white people, and both films appear to confirm this assumption; in The Sapphires, there is an African-American soldier, Robby (Tory Kittles). As one of his comrades got hurt, he tried to assist him. However, his good intentions were disrespectfully rejected by the white American soldier merely because he was black. The injured man even exclaimed, “Get your nigger hands off me! Keep that black dog away from me!” What is obvious is also what is not shown: over 7000 Australian soldiers fought in the Vietnam war, yet they were nowhere to be seen in the film, if at all.

This could be read as the making of certain assumptions about the worthiness such characters, and Robby, positioned here as the outsider, could be a representation of that. Assumptions about assumptions are not the best way forward, but this particular theme continues in Bran Nue Dae as well.

Finding his way back home, Willie Johnson (Rocky McKenzie), the aforementioned Aboriginal teenage runaway, meets Uncle Tadpole (Ernie Dingo). Sharing pearls of wisdom one night under the bridge, Uncle Tadpole said what was on the minds of many: “We all dirty.” To a certain extent, it highlights a complicity with this implicity amidst all this complexity.

Another assumption made is that they are shortsighted, meaning that they just live for the moment and do not worry about what

the future holds. Again, Willie’s decision to run away is held up as an example of this, deserting a formal education that will benefit him in upcoming years, without even considering his future at all. He chose to be at home, to fish and be with his family. An identical notion could be found in The Sapphires, as expressed by Kay (Shari Sebbens), one of the singing sisters in the film: “If you people worked as much as you fished. You’d be really rich you know?” Kay may well be an Aboriginal (of sorts), but her position here is more complex than that, a fair-skinned young woman having been taken away from her family at an even younger age. It can be observed that both films approve the assumption which believes that the Aborigines are not really concerned about their future.

Benedict Anderson talks about the nation as an imagined political community which is both intrinsically limited and sovereign. It is imagined because despite the fact that members do not know most of their fellow members, the image of their communion lives on in each mind. It is further imagined as limited because there will always be finite (if elastic) boundaries between nations. Lastly, it is imagined as sovereign because sovereignty acts as the gauge and emblem of freedom. In other words, the community has full rights to determine its own boundaries. Applying this concept here, it can be argued that national identity is the imagined quality and characteristic of a community, which in a bigger scope is a nation.

A little bit of history: between the years 1890 and 1970, white Australians imagined their own national identity as an ‘all-white community. In order to achieve this goal,

IMAGE: HADI ZAHER / FLICKR!

FEATURE GISELLA LIVIA LIE

they implemented a policy that resulted in the Stolen Generation, what Jens Korff defines as young Aboriginal children and babies being forcefully taken away from their families to be raised in a white community to end the Aboriginal culture.

The main target of the authorities was those of mixed descent because they could be easily assimilated into white society.

The Sapphires reaffirms this imagined community of white Australians, as the same thing happened to the aforementioned Kay. Furthermore, the film also confirms the assumption that their idea of the community led them to dislike and mistreat Aboriginal people. The talent quest scene, for example, showcased the organisers being unfairly unwilling in awarding the Aboriginal girls the victory they deserved, simply because of personal resentment. Their singing talents, evidently, were not enough to stave off comments telling them to “pack your swags and get back to the humpy… Thought I told you Abos to get off my premises!”

Taking a slightly different tack, Bran Nue Dae challenges these forms of identification. The white Australians who ran the boarding school in Clontarf, for example, were willing to educate Aboriginal teenagers to become a priest. They hoped 16 | CQ MAGAZINE | #4

that those teenagers would be able to help their own people in the future, just like what Father Benedictus (Geoffrey Rush) said: “My greatest desire is to see you Aborigine people educated and trained in the skills of the modern world.” Of course, the religious ideals behind such comments shouldn’t be ignored, but the fact remains that there is a difference that is to be noted here from The Sapphires.

What of the Aboriginals’ own imagined community? Paul Makeham asserts that the major means of transmitting and sustaining the Aboriginal culture are through words, spoken and sung. Therefore they believe that their sense of identity and pride of their own heritage lie amongst these songs. This is because by singing, they are re-enacting the heroic journeys of their elders. Both films affirm this belief by looking at how often the Aboriginal characters sing and even express their emotions through it. In Bran Nue Dae, Uncle Tadpole sings of signs of alienation in their own homeland through Long Away From My Country, while Listen to the News of Our People shows resentment towards the history of black people deaths in custody. The film’s conclusion saw a collective performance of Nothing I Would Rather Be, a more ironic and comedic take on their own history, though it was no less

heartfelt.

As such, both films also approve of Makeham’s idea that Aboriginal characters are defined by their actions and how they express their community, rather than any shared racial characteristics. In The Sapphires, the young ladies were able to blend in easily with the American troops in Vietnam, a large number of which was black. This is because they broadened their boundaries under the considerations that all of them were strangers in the country. As mentioned before, the closing scenes of Bran Nue Dae express similar sentiments, as Uncle Tadpole speaks of the collective identity that binds them together: “Today, everyone’s an Aborigine.”

Based on these scenes, it can be examined that not only do they determine the boundary of their imagined community through actions and not physical appearance, but there is also a certain assumption of power that is taken by them, one that determines definitions on their behalf by themselves. As such, the balance of power in they see themselves (as well as how the world sees them) shifts ever so slightly in their favour.

Originally published on Thoughts on Films.

POETRY WANEE HASSAN

Bonda TEXT: WANEE HASSAN IMAGE: « м Ħ ж » / FLICKR

Bonda pergi dengan membawa cinta, bertahun lamanya aku menunggu di daun pintu, nafasku seolah sudah terlekat pada dinding usang, seakan kami telah menjadi terlalu akrab, hinggakan dinding usang yang ku sandarkan, mengenali air mataku lebih dari diriku, air mata ini jua yang ku tadahkan, hingga takungannya benar-benar tidak tertampung.

Bonda jika kamu lihat ini di sini, aku mungkin lebih letih daripada petani di bendang, aku mungkin lebih sedih daripada cerita dongengan, mungkin aku sekadar merindu suapan kamu tika kecil dulu, atau aku cuma mahu didodoi suara merdu, atau terkadang wajah kamu muncul dalam doa-doaku.

Bonda pergi tanpa membawaku, sering kali jua aku menyoalkan pada teman-teman, jika benar bonda sudah tidak akan lagi memanggil namaku, namun bondaku sayang, aku tetap mengigaukan namamu, pada tiap-tiap malamku.

#4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 17

FEATURE STEPHEN ANTONIO

Smiles, " Laughter and Bliss TEXT: STEPHEN ANTONIO !

IMAGE: CHARLES WIRIAWAN / FLICKR!

In the midst of a drizzling evening, nobody would really have a good time. The busway station would prove me right.

Swarming would be the best word to use for the busway at that time. People everywhere, just rushing to get home as soon as possible, myself included. They would even push and shove to get a spot on the nearest busway heading their direction, myself not included.

People would start texting and calling home, saying they were going to arrive later than planned. People would just flat out scream and shout if the busway did not go the full route, something that happens quite a lot. People were basically mad.

However, I saw something very interesting, something I barely ever saw in circumstances as such.

It was a smile.

A little girl and her mother were exiting the busway. See, between a busway station and the busway itself there's this small gap.

The size of the gap would depend on how skilful the busway driver is. At that moment, 18 | CQ MAGAZINE | #4

the gap was relatively large and kids would have problems crossing it.

One of the busway guards helped this little girl by lifting her over the gap. As she was being hoisted up, a tiny cute "wheee" came out of her, along with a face filled with bliss.

Boy, was it a good sight. The busway guard couldn't help but chuckle as well, smiling as he glanced upon the little girl and her mom once again.

It's amazing how in the mess of a packed busway station on a rainy day, one person is still capable of joy. Even more amazing is how she's able to spread that joy. # So, to all you impatient people screaming and shoving your way to get home. Why not calm down? Enjoy what little joy you might have left in that busway station.

Don't let things such as the rain, traffic and the crowd ruin your day.

And always remember that; after every storm, comes the rainbow.

Originally published on the author’s blog, Busway Diaries.

After every storm, comes the rainbow

#4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 19

FEATURE ADI ISKANDAR

“What is that you wear over your head?”

Five Malaysians talk to Adi Iskandar about their experiences abroad IMAGE: ALEX PROIMOS / FLICKR!

They say that home is where the heart is, the starting point of our long and great adventure. They also say that staying in one place is like reading a single page from a book, with the promise that more would come should one be daring enough to continue to that story.

Truth be told, they say a lot of things. One of the bigger issues often up for discussion is the brain drain, that talent migration that finds home outside of Malaysia. There are many different reasons for such travels and travails.

What say the people who actually did take that step forward? What motivated them to do so? “I’ve always loved travelling,” said Lydia Koh, a Malaysian who settled in Adelaide, Australia. “Living abroad in different places has always been aspiration of mine.”

It was the same for Nadiah Ahmad, a public relations consultant now based in Malaysia.

Having spent time in New Zealand and the Netherlands, her first experience of living abroad was in South Africa. “That experience was unlike the rest, because I was much younger and did not know what to expect,” she recalled. “I was just excited at the possibility of living away from the familiar. That became the basis of my expectations in subsequent years abroad.”

For Aisyah Ezral, currently based in the United States, she shares similar beliefs.

“I’ve always been interested in humanities: history, sociology, anthropology, ethnography, basically different cultures around the world.” Having said that, her unfamiliarity is something she has known for a while, a product of American cultural 20 | CQ MAGAZINE | #3

imperialism, to which Aisyah held up her hands. “Guilty as charged. There was the horrible MTV/The O.C. phase I had which drew me to superficial American pop culture.”

Such a culture is the basis for a transitional world many grow up in. “I consider myself a third culture kid-turned-adult,” said Mindy Wong. Currently working in Hong Kong, she previously lived in Shanghai, London and Hong Kong. As such, this is not a process that required deeper critical questions.

“Revisiting Hong Kong is not something new to me.”

Similarly, Meera Supramaniam, a PhD candidate in Spain, had a similar process, though for very different reasons. “Truth be told, I never really thought all that much about it, at least not that seriously,” she admitted. “It came from my master’s, when I had a chance to do it here. Subsequently, I ended up staying to do my post-graduate studies as well. That was eight years ago!”

It is this drainage of talent that many lament, believing that those who settled could come back and make positive contributions to Malaysian nation building.

However, they fail to consider the heart drain, the departing of people because of that one eternal thing: love.

“Actually, I initially intended to come here to delve properly into critical film studies,” Aisyah smiled, “but the love bug got to me first.” She is now married and the mother of a baby boy. Though not at the same stage, Lydia and Meera cited similar experiences, counting them amongst their most memorable.

Going beyond such matters of heart, other experiences can be just as affective. “South Africa was not like the other places I’ve lived in because of the social, economic and political make-up,” she said of her years in Cape Town, one of the nation’s most populous cities. Though technology helps to make the world a smaller place, it did take away some of the mystery. “With New Zealand and the Netherlands, I knew a lot more of what to expect because of the Internet and because they were destinations other have explored.”

Nothing beats actually being there, though.

“I was expecting a challenging and competitive working environment, which is the case with every new job in a fastgrowing economy,” Mindy said of her professional aspirations. “It’s much more overwhelming than I imagined, having worked in Malaysia previously.”

This is the environment she described as a “salad bowl”, which makes it easier for people to fit in. Sometimes, some people fit in a little too well. “I look much like a local but I’m not,” Mindy chuckled. “So at first glance I might be mistaken for one. That can be challenging sometimes.”

Other experiences may not be as superficial. Lydia had some of her biggest challenges while living in Kalgoorlie; a mining town 600km from Perth is not a common destination for many Malaysians.

“I’d left my job and had to scrabble to look for part-time work to be able to pay the rent. I found work at Woolworths as a cashier and took the initiative to ask for as many shifts as they could give me. At nights, I temped as a waitress at the local Indian restaurant.”

Many fail to consider the heart drain, the departing of people because of that one eternal thing: love

IMAGE: MARIUSZ KLUZNIAK / FLICKR!

FEATURE ADI ISKANDAR

It might be easier if friends and family members are around. “Homesickness caught me off-guard,” Aisyah admitted. “I really didn’t expect to be missing home and family so much.” Nadiah had similar feelings. “I was stricken with bouts of loneliness. In retrospect, though, loneliness is necessary because it helps you appreciate the people who are already in your life and to not take for granted.”

The bureaucracy can also be a dispiriting process. “Paperwork for the Netherlands was especially challenging because the Dutch love bureaucracy and there are always 10 steps more to a 5 step process.”

This is the process that Meera is not looking forward to. “In my case, I suppose the biggest challenge is trying to figure out how to stay after the doctorate is done,” she mused. “There’s plenty more for me to discover here.”

Being a Malaysian abroad is not only the discovering of places, but also an introduction for many. “‘What is that you wear over your head?’” recalled Aisyah of the repeated questions people ask of her.

“Or, ‘How is it that your English is so good?’” Being the de facto ambassadors to others, there is a different level of

22 | CQ MAGAZINE | #3

expectation hoisted upon your shoulders.

That weight of expectation may be heavy for some, but Aisyah is enjoying it. “All the memorable moments I’ve had so far revolve around being a Muslim in a non-Muslim country. It’s such a lovely, refreshing feeling. Islam is so much more colourful and interesting here. For instance, the moon-sighting for Eid this year turned into moon-fighting, with some deciding to fast 30 days, while others did 29.”

If time is an issue for some, for Mindy it is the spatial dimension. “In Hong Kong restaurants it is common to sit with strangers. Personally, I don’t like eating with strangers.” Then again, it is one of the world’s most densely populated metropolises. Space and time are therefore unintended luxuries. “Service staff will ensure you get your table, order within 1.5 minutes, eat within 45 minutes and try not to give you eye contact,” she lamented.

“Good service is almost non-existent.”

This form of Sociology 101 also made South Africa interesting, albeit in different ways. “South Africa was rife with poverty when I first arrived, and there were huge economic and social disparities in various

segments of societies,” recalled Nadiah.

“The experience of seeing poverty with my own eyes was, ironically, a huge privilege for me; how I interact with the world around me is now very much informed by this experience.”# # Having said all that, what would they say about those who wish to sample this interaction? “Do it, because the world is too big for you to be confined within an arbitrarily drawn border,” said Nadiah.

“When you’re away, you know what and who you want to be close to.”

“It’s the chance of a lifetime,” said Lydia, one she believes everyone would do well to grab. “You’ll get a full on experience – lots of ups and downs.” Coming with an open heart and mind is the key, though, and understanding how to learn from mistakes is important. “It’s part of a humbling experience and one where I’ve done a lot of ‘growing up’.”

Aisyah agrees wholeheartedly. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt that if possible I want everyone in the world to be able to have the taste and experience of living in another culture, away from home, outside of their comfort zone.”

FEATURE ADI ISKANDAR

All the memorable moments I’ve had so far revolve around being a Muslim in a nonMuslim country. It’s such a lovely, refreshing feeling

IMAGE: ICARS / FLICKR!

After all, distance makes the heart grow fonder. “From afar, you will be able to see your homeland in a different light, and more often than not, have a deeper appreciation for it,” she continued. Lest we forget, Lydia reminds us that this homeland will always be there for us too. “If things don’t quite work out the way you expect, moving home is never something to be ashamed of.”

If that is a near unanimous decision, what they miss the most is even more so. “Some of the stuff here is good, but there is no place like Malaysia for food,” said Meera.

Mindy agreed. “Everything tastes bland in Hong Kong. Malaysia has very flavourful dishes.”

“There is nothing like Malaysian food in Malaysia itself,” Aisyah concurred, taking it one step further. “There are a couple of Malaysian restaurants here but the food's not too authentic. Being abroad is great, but there's no place like home!”

#4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 23

INNER VIEW JASMINE SURAYA CHIN

Eastern Promises Jasmine Suraya Chin talks to CQ about her budding career as an on-screen performer IMAGE: JASMINE SURAYA CHIN!

Hi Jasmine! You’re now known as a TV host cum actress, but let’s start before that. When did you first realise that this is something you want to do professionally? Was there a single moment of enlightenment?

Well, I have always loved performing ever since I was young. In fact, when I was a kid everyone kept asking me what I wanted to be when I'm older, and I used to say that I wanted to be an actress. Needless to say, they used to laugh at me. You know, kids those days, and the adults didn't take me seriously of course, which, until today, I don't blame them.

To be honest, I never really thought I would get myself involved in the entertainment industry. Growing up, I was more into the serious side of things, rather than the artsy side. However, I still kept myself involved with many theater projects when I was in school.

How did it evolve from there?

I wanted to work in public relations when I was a teenager and the idea of hosting travelogues and shows were very appealing then. I got a 4-year scholarship to study Mass Communication, but after a year of doing it, I lost interest and I didn't find it fun. However, I decided I wanted to study Politics and Economics and so I switched my degree and had to forfeit my scholarship. I went and studied both subjects in Monash University in all three campuses in Sunway, Johannesburg and Melbourne.

That’s a bold step to take. What did you do after university?

Upon graduation, I wanted to work in many areas, mainly public relations, politics, 24 | CQ MAGAZINE | #3

economics, and journalism. At the time, I really wanted to be a foreign correspondent. So I took up a business writing job at The Borneo Post for about a year. After that, I just didn't feel quite happy and fulfilled, and the idea of hosting and acting was so much more interesting that writing on my desk and wasting my youth.

So I took the plunge and entered a reality show known as The Job on 8TV just for the sake of exposure. When I got the call saying that I was shortlisted for the audition, I immediately flew to Kuala Lumpur from Sarawak on the day itself.

That was when I knew I wanted to pursue the entertainment industry seriously.

Let’s stay with the academia for a bit.

You studied political science and economics. How useful was that for your career?

Well, I believe that the subjects you study when you were younger contribute only 10 to 60% to the growth of your career, depending on what you studied! Everything else is stuff you picked up along the way, and I don't mean just tangible skills.

What I found very interesting about the nature of politics and entertainment is that they're pretty much similar. Politicians strategise their way through in their campaign to win, and so do an entertainer. I do believe that there are two sides to an entertainment industry, the business side of it and the arts itself. Learning how politicians strategise, is actually the same way as branding and marketing an artist.

I am thankful that I have studied something very different when I was younger, I mean, who would ever want to be stuck with the same knowledge of things and the same

environment from young till old! That will be so boring.

Now that you’re in front of the camera, how useful was your experience as a journalist? What did you bring over from that side of the media?

Public relation skills and being able to carry myself well in public. I wouldn't say that working with The Borneo Post was part of the grand plan in the beginning. I did have some ideas of working as a foreign correspondent or a TV host and so working as a writer seemed to be the easiest entry into the field. But to be honest, I believe I wanted to stay in Sarawak for a bit because I have been studying abroad for so long. I just wanted a taste of the comfort zone at first. My dreams and plans changed along the way and it is still changing now, however, my end goal remains the same, sketchy but roughly I know where I want to head to in life.

Far more intriguingly, you were also the Head Festival Coordinator for the inaugural ASEAN International Film Festival (AIFFA) in 2013. How did that come about?

Well, this is funny! When I was in KL doing the reality show, I realised I needed money to sustain myself on a daily basis. So I thought of randomly applying for a job on Jobstreet and I thought of doing hosting and other acting stuff part time since I was so new then and no jobs were coming in. I thought I'd work in PR full time. I didn’t know how I got that crazy to come up with the idea of juggling two jobs! So I applied to the event management company and coincidentally they were organising the film festival in Sarawak. They thought that I would be the perfect candidate to take on

I prefer Sarawakians and Sabahans to be more independent in showcasing our own stories

IMAGE: JASMINE SURAYA CHIN!

INNER VIEW JASMINE SURAYA CHIN

the job since I'm Sarawakian, I knew a lot about films, I could write and I had good PR skills.

How did that further you along your career as a performer?

You asked earlier about a moment of enlightenment. I don't think there was a single moment of enlightenment, like a spark, though there were many times when I daydreamed or when I read a book and watch a film, that's when I get inspired.

However, the decision and clarification that I needed to make with regards to my career path, especially in acting, was when I worked for a couple of months in AIFFA 2013. I learned more about films and I became friends with some of the most notable and prominent filmmakers around South East Asia and that was when my dream grew bigger. I realised then that I wanted to pursue acting more seriously.

It says here that AIFFA intended to raise the profile and develop films from Sarawak and Southeast Asia. How successful was that in doing so?

I think it is hard to tell how successful a film festival can be in its initial stage, simply because there are so many festivals out there and filmmakers have yet to know more about AIFFA back then. The idea was very ambitious and I am glad that it was 26 | CQ MAGAZINE | #3

ambitious because only then people could see how serious the festival was in building and developing films and connections within South East Asia. I was also involved in the second AIFFA this year but on a smaller role because I wanted to focus more on my on-screen projects. I found many new and familiar faces from the previous festival. This means that the festival has garnered the attention and trust from credible filmmakers. This is a good start to many more years to come.

Why a film festival, though? Surely there are other ways in which attention could be drawn…

Attention could be drawn to? Well, I think the answer to your question is, why not?

Why not take any opportunities offered to you to learn, grow, make connections, be seen and be heard? After all, among the principles of an actor is to be seen and to be heard.

Speaking of which, what do you think of the representation of Malaysians from Borneo in the media?

I think there seems to be a lack of representation of Malaysians from the East Coast and a very cliché perception of us.

Personally, it feels like it’s not as balanced and accurate as it could have

been. What is needed to address this?

Opportunities and an effective support system. Opportunities to showcase the life there, the people, the history. And I don't mean coverage on food, places to visit, travel shows, but real life history. It seems as though the East Coast is sold as some kind of holiday or an exotic place, hence the West often feels as though both states seem so far away when really we're not that far from each other.

I think also being sincere in wanting to do more stories there, to shoot more stories there, is important. However, there needs to be an active involvement on the part of the Sarawakians and Sabahans. I’d prefer it if we are more independent in showcasing our own stories, having the budget being granted on our end, having more support by our own people. Only then can we have the freedom to really shoot and tell stories and make it our own.

Moving from Malaysia to Nepal, you’ve taken part in a project called Novels for Nepal. Tell us a bit more about that.

Novels for Nepal is basically a non-profit, non-government organisation that serves to collect books from anyone who wishes to donate books and a drive where we collect money to build a library in Nepal and stock it with books.

What inspired you to take up this particular cause?

A good friend of mine was the founder and so I helped her. Besides, it was so nice reading what other people donated, the kinds of books I would never spend money buying but was able to read it before we shipped it to Nepal.

Let’s get back to the beaten path. What was the first show you hosted? What was that experience like?

The first show I hosted was the Astro Tutor TV SPM. It was exhausting. That's all I could think of.

I’m just wondering: how does one train to become a TV host?

I think first of all, you must decide what kind of TV host you would want to be. From then on, train yourself on the knowledge of it. Read, watch a lot of shows. Next up, groom yourself image wise to look presentable. Then learn on your vocals and learn how to be relaxed.

A good host is one who is knowledgeable and one who can be spontaneous. If you have yet to decide what kind of TV host you want to be, then I suggest reading and watching. Read and watch anything and everything and see how they host. Do not attempt to copy their style, remember to always retain your own style. Learn to be fluent in whatever languages you choose to host in and never forget to take into account the importance of image.

Using the last show as an example, what was the routine for that particular day?

Is there a particular process you go through in preparation?

For Hip TV, we were given a script in advance and I would research the guests who are coming in and watch their previous interviews. During the day itself, we head into the studio two hours earlier for makeup and go through the rundown with the producers and my co-hosts.

You’ve also acted in a number of productions on television. Which is the most memorable, and why?

Drama A&E, a Mediacorp production from Singapore. Simply because it was very hard to get into the character I was playing and the experiences gave me another perspective on acting.

I saw you for the first time in the film Qing Yi by Mugunthan Loganathan, in which you play the role of a traditional Chinese dancer. Tell us a bit about your experience with that.

That was my second time acting in front of the camera. Truth be told, I am not too proud of it. I was confused at first as to why

we had to wait so long, why did the position of the camera change so often.

What was the most challenging part of that role?

To speak in Cantonese and to sing in Cantonese cause I don’t speak Cantonese.

Speaking of which, in researching for this interview, I realised there’s some discontent online about you, largely stemming from others mistaking you to be a Malay. This was most evident in your role as Effa in Maaf Jika Aku Tak

IMAGE: JASMINE SURAYA CHIN!

INNER VIEW JASMINE SURAYA CHIN

A good host is one who is knowledgeable and one who can be spontaneous

#4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 27

INNER VIEW JASMINE SURAYA CHIN

28 | CQ MAGAZINE | #3

being super super fluent in the Malay language, being completely relaxed, sourcing out outfits for events and being entrepreneurial about your own brand name. Those are my big challenges.

Of course, on the bright side I'm sure you have had some memorable moments, too. Describe for us the most rewarding moment thus far.

It was when I managed to feel the pain of the character that I was acting in Drama A&E. Also, when I got the news that I was chosen to host or act in the shows I have done so far.

Having charted your own course, what kind of advice would you have for those who may have similar aspirations?

First of all, read a lot and watch a lot. Know about your industry. Create a good portfolio of yourself, sell yourself well. Take classes, do what you need to do to fund these classes. Analyse your weaknesses, work on it. Never miss a chance to make connections, never be afraid to bang on doors and ask people to give you a chance to audition you. Learn from your idols, see where they start. Join competitions, work on your looks and image.

Give yourself a target, a realistic one. You're not going to achieve much in your first 5 years, which is normal. Work on something that you can be good at. And most of all don’t think too much. It might be your passion but it is not your life. Don't let it consume you. Take it like a 9-5 job and have your own personal life afterwards.

After a while, if you feel exhausted, take a break. Take a step back and reassess things. Then move forward from there.

Alright, that’s it for now. Thanks for your time, Jasmine.

Thank you so much for the interview. Such a privilege on my end!

Follow Jasmine on Instagram and Twitter: @jasmine_suraya.

IMAGE: JASMINE SURAYA CHIN!

Sempurna; some considered there to be a disconnection between your portrayal and what a Malay girl is supposed to look like. What did you make of all this?

Well I think first of all, everyone mistaken me for a Muslim simply because my middle name is Suraya and I don't look super super Chinese and because I speak pretty fluent Malay. Hence, many people found it hard to believe that I am 100% Chinese.

What would you say to them?

I think my first question to them would be, “How should a Malay girl look like? Is it by the way she dresses, the way she acts, the way she talks?” Malay is just a race.

Effa on the other hand is an individual. Her background, her environment, the circumstances, her beliefs shape her. Her race does not shape her behaviors 100%.

Whatever they make of me is just gossip and pure controversy. But hey, there is not such thing as bad publicity. So I just enjoy the ride. At least people notice Effa. Hence, as an actor, I was seen and heard.#

Has this become an issue that affected you in other ways? If so, how?

Yes, people do assume I am Malay and was quick to judge the way I dress. But in many ways, I don't think it affected me badly, in fact many people were impressed that me being a Chinese could speak the Malay language fluently.

Looking briefly at your career, you often oscillate between hosting and acting.

Which of the two do you prefer, and why?

I am comfortable with hosting. But I prefer acting. Simply because it gives me more satisfaction.

In an interview for Projek 3R, you also mentioned a preference for performing on stage in theatre rather than TV. Why is that?

Because performing on stage is easier!

There is a fixed time duration and you can build your character's momentum on stage.

On screen, the hours are long and they shoot many different scenes in one day, so sometimes you lose the energy and momentum because most of the time, you just sit and wait for your scenes.

What has been the biggest challenge in your career thus far?

There were many challenges, among them was when my dad passed away and I realised that I had to be smart about making money doing this art full time because before then, my parents supported me financially when no jobs were coming in.

Apart from that, getting into character,

People do assume I am Malay and was quick to judge the way I dress

Thank You, " Ghost TEXT: RAHIM RAMLI !

IMAGE: JD HANCOCK / FLICKR!

I was an intern at a publishing company.

My usual working day would be me coming to the workplace at ten in the morning and went back home at about six in the evening, riding on a train. However, that one night, something came up at the office.

We had a meeting and I could only go back home just before three in the morning.

Lucky for me though, one of the staff was kind enough to help send me back home.

After he dropped me somewhere near the area of apartment buildings where I lived, I walked back to my apartment all by myself.

This was the first time I walked around the area this late. I walked around the apartment buildings block by block until I reached the block where my apartment was.

As I walked all alone and hoped that nothing unpleasant came up, I saw it. I saw a ghost, just near the elevators where I was supposed to head toward. I assumed it was a female ghost. Her face was pale white.

Her hair was long and black. Her plain white dress was stained red. She was your usual, typical local ghost. God, why could she not hang out somewhere else?

When I saw her, my heart was beating fast.

My bones were shaking on the inside. I breathed in and breathed out, heavily. I tried to pretend like I did not see the ghost and walked past her.

After I got into one of the elevators, I saw her standing outside, motionless. When the elevator door closed, I breathed out in relief, assuming that was it. As the elevator went up, the ghost suddenly materialised right in front of me in the elevator, facing away from me.

30 | CQ MAGAZINE | #3

“Mommy!” I screamed in shock and horror.

When the elevator door opened right at the floor where my apartment was, I ran past the ghost and out of the elevator in horror. I looked back and the ghost was there in the elevator, motionless and just facing forward.

Since then, every time I came back at about three in the morning, I sure as hell would see the ghost. As usual, I pretended like I did not see the ghost and just walked past her to get into one of the elevators.

Then, in the elevator, she would materialise herself right in front of me, facing away from me. The pattern seemed to repeat and I somehow began getting used to it. That one particular night, for some unknown, perhaps stupid, reasons, I decided to talk to the ghost.

“What the hell are you?” I asked, despite shaking in horror, to no response.

“Why are you here?” another question asked without any answer given.

Suddenly, the ghost had her head turning around to face me while the rest of her body remained facing forward. I was horrified.

“Never mind,” I said with shaking lips and the ghost had her head turning around yet again to face forward, which meant her head just completed a three hundred and sixty degree turn.

When the elevator reached the floor where my apartment was, the door opened. I walked past the ghost to get out of the elevator. I turned around and looked at her.

She was just motionless. I stared at her #4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 35

SHORT STORY RAHIM RAMLI

until the elevator door closed.

One night, I somehow ended up arriving a little bit earlier than usual. I then walked toward the elevators, though I was not so sure whether I looked forward to seeing the ghost or hoped that I did not run into her tonight.

I arrived and looked at the elevators. There was no sight of the ghost. I simply walked toward the elevators, perhaps not caring whether the ghost would be there or not.

Suddenly, someone grabbed my shoulder and turned my body around to face him.

There were two men holding their respective knives. Both of them then pointed the knives toward me.

“Give us all your money,” one of them said.

“What?” I asked. I could not believe that this actually happened. This sucked.

Perhaps, running into a ghost was a much more preferable situation than this one.

“Are you deaf? Give us all your money!” another one of them shouted in anger.

“No!” I screamed, trying to somehow defend myself and prove that I could stand up for myself despite being thin. The one who shouted at me hit me in the stomach with one of his knees. I kneeled down in pain.

“Give us all your money!” the one who shouted at me, now also the one who got physical with me, shouted in anger, again.

I assumed that they both would try to bring me further harm, but they became quiet. I wondered why. So, I looked up to see their faces. They did not look at me. They looked at what was behind me. They had the faces of horror. It was so damn obvious to me.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” one of them shouted before both of them ran away. I turned around and I saw the ghost near the elevators. I looked at my watch, which showed that it was three in the morning. I got up while holding my stomach and walked toward the elevators where the ghost was just standing, motionlessly. I smiled at her, though she did not look at me. I pressed one the elevator buttons. The door of one of the elevators opened.

“Thank you,” I said to the ghost, before I walked into the elevator. #4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 31

POETRY DEA ISHAK

Oh dear, oh dear,# What have we here?# A fallen heart# A longing soul# A soft touch# More priceless than gold# Oh dear, oh dear,# What will we do when we grow old?# My dear, listen here,# Let’s cross the ocean with me# Let’s make and write our own history# Let’s shoot a movie and put it out for the world to see# Oh dear, oh dear,# You worry too much, my dear# We’ll be alright, we’ll be just fine# I’ll be right here when you are blue# I’ll always be right next to you.

For The Things We Plan To Do TEXT: DEA ISHAK IMAGE: QUINN DOMBROWSKI / FLICKR!

10 | CQ MAGAZINE | #3

#3 | CQ MAGAZINE | 19

POETRY KAY

Dia Tuhan# arkitek seluruh alam ini,# kau manusia# penjaja cerita sana sini. # Siapa kau,# untuk menghukum, siapa yang salah# untuk mengangkat, siapa yang benar# untuk menyangkal, segala pelan yang# direncana olehNya. # Belajar menerima# apa adanya.# dari situ# kau peroleh bahagia# bukan sahaja di dunia# malah yang kekal# di akhirat sana.

Yang ikhlas,

KAY

Kau Siapa TEXT: KAY IMAGE: BILAL KAMOON / FLICKR

#4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 33

I challenged myself to do something I’ve never done before, which I knew would make me uncomfortable: travel alone

FEATURE ZAIDAH Z

Dari Keramat ke Kumamoto Zaidah Z decided to take the first step of that thousand mile journey: independence IMAGE: ZAIDAH Z!

“Home is where the heart is,” and it’s true.

Everywhere I go, I wish I’d be home in my pyjamas, on my bed, catching up on my favourite TV shows while munching on Pringles. I am that type of girl who rarely goes out with friends until late, and the girl who cries buckets when leaving home the first time for university. I prefer staying at home, where I know it’s safe, where I know my parents are there to protect me, and where I can get stable and fast Internet connection.

But now, after I’ve graduated from university, I am beginning to ponder my future. I will be getting a job soon, and then I’ll move out of my parents’ home, and then I’ll go live in my own apartment, alone with my seven cats, and then I have to pay bills with my own money and buy groceries with my own money, and… AHHH!!! How do I expect to be a fully functioning adult when I have a heavy heart every time I leave my house? So I’ve decided to challenge myself and do something I’ve never done before, which I knew would make me uncomfortable: Travel alone…

My best friend is currently studying at Kumamoto University, Japan. So I’ve decided to travel there to see her. We’ve planned this trip together, arranged where to meet and everything. I’ve saved up some money while my parents kindly chipped in a few more. I’ve spent a few weeks preparing for this trip: bought a small-sized luggage and a travel organizer, renewed my passport, converted my money and researched everything I can about Japan and its cultures. I’ve planned to stay in Japan for a week: two days in Osaka and five days around Northern Kyushu.

My mother flipped out when I told her my plan of travelling alone to Japan. She said it’s dangerous and I’ve never done anything crazy like this before. I guess she meant that I didn’t have what it takes and that she didn’t believe I could do it. My father, on the other hand, completely loved the idea and was very supportive from the very beginning. He often informed me about cheap plane tickets and even offered to pay them.

After my parents sent me to the airport and hugged me tightly as if I was leaving forever, we parted company and I started my solo journey to the Land of the Rising Sun. Apparently, I didn’t cry, which was a good sign! Waiting for flights were boring because I had no one to talk to, only an iPod to keep me entertained. Nevertheless, I was beyond excited for the trip!

The first two days in Japan, I went to Osaka because my friend and I wanted to go to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter, at Universal Studios Japan. We met at the airport and then we checked in at the hotel situated right next to the theme park. We spent the whole day inside the park, especially at Harry Potter World. We rode on roller coasters, bought merchandises and even drank Butterbeer (Harry Potter fans, you know what I mean!). It was magical and majestic, but everything was in Japanese, so be prepared to be lost if you don’t understand the language. I’m a sucker for rides and roller coasters. So, being able to ride Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey, a 6D motion ride, was incredible! You get to “fly on a broomstick” around Hogwarts, play Quidditch as a Seeker and try to grab the Golden Snitch, encounter frightening Dementors and

finally, enter The Great Hall where you are greeted by Harry, Hermione, Ron and everyone else and they all congratulate you for winning the House Cup. It was the only time in this whole trip where I literally cried.

The next remaining days, I travelled around Northern Kyushu – From Kumamoto, to Nagasaki and then finally Fukuoka. Japan was windy and breezy as it was autumn.

And I would always shiver, especially at night. In Kumamoto, I walked around the city and tried authentic Japanese sushi for the first time. The trip to Nagasaki was one that I looked forward to because I love history and wanted so badly to visit the Atomic Bomb Museum. I don’t want to say that I enjoyed the museum tour considering the horrible things that happened there (during WWII, the United States dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki in 1945), but I ‘cherished’ the experience nonetheless.

Reading the stories from the survivors was devastating, and seeing the ruins and items found at the bombsite was even more depressing. Alas, it makes me feel grateful for some reasons.

My last day in Japan was spent in Fukuoka, where I shopped, ate and took purikura pictures (those photo booths where you can edit to make your eyes bigger and jawline smaller and paste colourful stickers to the state of oblivion). After rushing to the airport and nearly missed my flight, I was off to Malaysia, back to home.

Travelling to Japan was fun. Everybody was nice to me and they all seemed to be willing to help. The moment I landed at Osaka airport, the workers stood at the gate, smiled, bowed and greeted us ‘Welcome’.

The people, especially the cashiers at #4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 35

FEATURE ZAIDAH Z

IMAGE: ZAIDAH Z!

Universal Studios, always want to strike up conversations with you. Only in Japan where two girls can walk alone at night on dark roads and not worry of getting mugged, where you can pay your bills at the cashier of 7-Eleven stores and where you can easily find sushi at 3 in the morning, if you’re that hungry. And don’t get me started on the transportation system! There are literally buses, trains and trams everywhere, not just in the big city, and you don’t have to walk far. What more can I say about this amazing, beautiful country? Everything is convenient! And everywhere is safe!

Despite all this, my favourite part of the

36 | CQ MAGAZINE | #3

journey is when I landed in Kuala Lumpur International Airport, seeing my parents, running to them and gave them big hugs, while my father excitedly said, “You did it!

You made it through travelling alone…” which was damn reassuring to me.

For someone who has dealt with extreme shyness and anxieties all her teenage years, travelling alone proved that I could be independent and do things on my own.

This first solo trip of mine have changed me. I feel stronger, braver and probably… kinder. I really surprised myself. I made it through airport security and immigration alone. I sat on airplanes alone, with strangers next to me. I waited in airports for

my next flights alone. I travelled to another country alone!

You might think those things are easy, but for me they’re not, and surviving all these ordeals proved that I am bloody freaking strong after all...

So am I a fully functioning adult now?

Nah, I’m still that type of girl who likes sitting in her bedroom, watching TV while munching on sour cream and onion chips.

But even though home is where my heart is, at least now I’m no longer afraid of leaving it. I’m ready to face the outside world!

SHORT STORY SHEMSI ELSANI

Comel dan Coklat TEXT: SHEMSI ELSANI IMAGE: PORTO BAY EVENTS / FLICKR!

Kuala Lumpur.

Salah sebuah megalopolis yang terkenal.

Jika Paris popular dengan Menara Eifiel dan New York terkenal dengan Lady of Liberty, Kuala Lumpur terkenal dengan menara berkembar.

Menara Berkembar Petronas.

Menara yang pernah satu ketika dinobatkan sebagai menara tertinggi di dunia. Satu mercu tanda kemajuan negara.

Sebuah negara yang bernama Malaysia.

Negara yang kecil, terletak hampir dengan garisan khatulistiwa, menjadikan Malaysia sebuah negara tropika yang panas dan lembap sepanjang tahun. Tiada salji. Cuma itu mungkin ketidaklebihannya pada sesetengah orang.

Di antara konkrit mencakar langit itu, di celah-celah kesibukan megapolis, di tengah-tengah kegahan mengukir nama itu.

Di sana, ada peristiwa. Ada air mata. Ada keringat yang tidak pernah kering.

****

Adam.

Dia tidak pernah kenal erti rumah.

“Anak sial!” itulah halwa telinganya. Sejak mula dia mengenal erti bahasa. Dia bukanlah seorang dewasa. Empat sebelas tahun. Itulah hayatnya.

Rumahnya tidak berdinding. Berbumbung langit. Berhalaman sampah sarap.

Beraroma longkang. Itulah tempatnya sejak dia kenal erti hidup.

Dia tidak pernah kenal siapa ibunya. Tidak pernah tahu jika dia memiliki seorang ibu.

Yang pastinya dia ada bapa, paling kurang itulah lelaki yang dipanggilnya bapa.

“Malam nanti tempat biasa. Jangan buat hal lagi. Ingat dia tu orang kaya.” Bapanya mengarah, seperti hari-hari sebelumnya.

Rokok yang tinggal separuh itu di penyek ke tanah dengan tapak kasut buruknya.

Wajahnya begis, misainya yang lebat itu nampak tidak terurus. Rambutnya juga tidak pernah bersikat. Kotor dan tentunya berkutu.

Adam tunduk memandang tanah lorong yang berbau itu. Dia lihat seliparnya yang hampir tercabut. Selipar itu dia jumpa di dalam tong sampah dua hari lepas. Dia tidak pernah berselipar sebelum ini.

Berkasut jauh sekali. Seluarnya yang separas paha itu juga lusuh. Sudah seminggu tidak berbasuh. Dia cuma ada itu sahaja, jika dia basuh maknanya dia perlu berbogel sehingga seluar itu kering kembali. Dulu dia tidak kisah tetapi sekarang…dia tahu dia dah cukup besar untuk tahu apa itu malu.

“Tapi bapa…”dia takut-takut untuk bersuara. Dia tahu benar perangai bapanya itu. “Adam…”

“Jangan nak degil!” jerkah bapanya.

Matanya dijegilkan penuh amarah.

Nafasnya berbunyi kuat. Ada bau rokok dari hembusan kasar itu. “Kalau kau nak hidup, jangan nak degil!” sambungnya lagi.

“Anak sial!” Tokoknya lalu berlalu. Terhinjuthinjut meninggalkan Adam disitu. Adam tahu destinasi lelaki itu.

Adam menahan tangisnya. Setiap kata #4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 37

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#3 | CQ MAGAZINE | 23

IMAGE: KAH WAI SIN / FLICKR!

Dia diangkat ke atas katil, dan saat itu baru dia mengerti

SHORT STORY SHEMSI ELSANI

#

****

Malam.

Kota ini terlalu cantik untuk digambarkan.

Segenap penjurunya dipenuhi cahaya neon berwarna-warni. Di mana-mana.

Di tengah-tengah kota besar yang indah itu, sebuah limosin mewah mendekati sebuah hotel bertaraf lima bintang. Tibanya didepan pintu utama hotel itu, seorang penyambut tetamu membukakan pintu keretanya. Seorang lelaki kemas bersut formal melangkah keluar. Kasut hitamnya berkilat, sedondon dengan sutnya. Dia tersenyum.

“Terima kasih.” Ucapnya sepatah pada pelayan lelaki itu.

“Selamat datang. Ikut sini.” Pelayan lelaki itu mendahului sambil menjinjing briefcasenya. Lelaki itu membontoti pelayan muda itu. Bibirnya tidak lekang dari senyuman. “Biliknya di tingkat 30, nombor 300A. Ini kuncinya.” Terang pelayan itu setiba di kaunter pendaftaran.

“Terima kasih.”

****

Bilik 300A.

Di atas sana, di tingkat 30 seorang budak lelaki mundar- mandir. Hatinya tidak keruan.

Bilik mewah itu terasa seperti menghimpit dirinya. Dia resah.

“Pergi mandi dan salin pakaian ni.”

Bapanya mencampakkan beg plastik di depannya. Adam mendongak. Dia yang sedang makan roti kering itu terhenti.

Pakaian. Dia berasa agak pelik. Bapanya tidak pernah membelikan dia apa-apa pun selama ini selain dari roti tawar. Itu pun cuma sekali seminggu jika nasibnya baik, kalau tidak mungkin sebulan dia cuma meratah sisa-sisa dari tong-tong sampah.

“Apa tunggu lagi. Cepat. Dah lewat ni.” Dia terkejut sekali lagi. Tutur kata bapanya itu cukup lembut. Tidak pernah bapanya demikian. Mimpikah aku?

“Pergi!” sergah bapanya.

Adam cepat-cepat menghabiskan baki roti kering itu. Air yang ditogaknya tertumpahtumpah kerana gopoh.

Bajunya bewarna kuning air. Baju kemeja berpetak-petak kecil. Seluarnya hitam pekat. Bergosok rapi. Kasut. Ya dia memakai sepasang kasut hitam bersama stoking hitam. Berkilat. Rambutnya disikat rapi. Dan buat pertama kali dalam hidupnya dia memakai bedak dan minyak wangi.

Sungguh baunya wangi. Hatinya riang, tiada tara. Terima kasih bapa!

Dia bawa ke sebuah hotel. Sebuah bangunan yang tinggi. Cantik dengan lampu yang berwarna-warni. Bapanya membawanya ke sebuah bilik. Tingkat 30.

Bilik 300A. Lalu dia ditinggalkan keseorangan di situ. Dia tahu bapanya berperangai pelik malam ini. Bapanya tidak seperti selalu. Dia ingin bertanya tetapi…

“Dengar sini…selepas ini kita tak akan hidup susah lagi. Kalau Adam sayang bapa, Adam mesti ikut cakap bapa.” Lelaki itu terlalu pelik malam itu. Dia menatap wajah Adam lama seolah-olah mengatakan betapa dia sayangkannya.

Adam membalas tatapan itu. Itulah pertama kali dalam hidupnya dia menatap mata itu.

Betapa bahagianya saat itu. Tetapi jauh di dalam hati, dia merasakan ada sesuatu.

Sesuatu yang menganggu.

Malam itu dia menangis. Bukan dia sakit tetapi kerana terlalu gembira. Kegembiraan yang tidak pernah dirasakan selama ini.

Adam duduk birai katil empuk itu. Di bilik hotel mewah itu. Bilik itu sangat harum baunya. Jauh lebih harum dari minyak wanginya. Dia berbaring di katil itu.

Berangan-angan. Kata bapanya ada orang kaya akan datang. Orang itu akan bagi banyak duit. Adam cuba bayangkan apalah yang dia akan beli nanti.

Tiba-tiba pintu bilik terkuak. Dia bingkas bangun, berdiri di tepi katil itu.

Di sana di ambang pintu berdiri seorang lelaki. Lelaki yang bersut kemas. Serba hitam. “Adam ke?” Tanyanya lembut.

Adam membisu. Hatinya tertanya-tanya.

Siapa ni?

Lelaki itu mendekatinya. Briefcasenya di letakkan dimeja yang tersedia. “Jangan takut. Pak cik ni kawan bapa Adam.” Lelaki itu menghampirinya. Dia menghulurkan sekeping coklat. “Nah ni untuk Adam.”

Pelawanya sambil tersenyum. Dia mencangkung di depan Adam. Budak ini sangat comel. Nafsunya membuak.

Adam masih kaku di situ. Hatinya mengatakan sesuatu. Sesuatu yang tidak elok. “Adam…Adam…” Dia teragak-agak.

Hilang butir bicaranya.

“Adam ni comel. Pretty. Baju pun cantik.”

IMAGE: PORTO BAY EVENTS / FLICKR!

bapanya adalah muktamad. Jika putih, putihlah, jika hitam hitamlah. Dia susuri langkah bapanya itu yang mula menjauh.

Ada air mata dibirai matanya. “Kenapalah nasibku begini?”

#4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 39

SHORT STORY SHEMSI ELSANI

40 | CQ MAGAZINE | #3

difikirannya. Matanya berkelip-kelip cuba mengimbas apa yang berlaku semalam.

Adakah aku makan coklat itu? Dia pejamkan matanya.

“Makanlah Adam. Coklat ni pak cik belikan istimewa untuk Adam.”

Adam buka mata. melilau mencari sesuatu.

Mana dia?

Coklat itu manis rasanya. Bisiknya di dalam hati. Di tersenyum mengenangkan betapa coklat itu sedap.

Adam cuba bingkas dari baringnya. Kenapa aku…? Dia mengintai di bawah selimutnya.

Dan dia lihat di lantai sebelah katil itu.

Pakaiannya ada di situ. Dia jadi hairan tibatiba. Siapa…?

Tiba-tiba dia merasakan ada sesuatu yang tidak kena. Kenapa dia tidak berpakaian.

Siapa yang tanggalkan dan kenapa. Dan ketika itulah dia nampak sesuatu (darah?) pada selimutnya. Dia bangun dari baringnya. Berdiri lalu turun dari katil itu.

Sejuk penghawa dingin meresap ke seluruh urat sarafnya. Dan dia lihat di tempat baringannya ada banyak darah. Dari mana datangnya darah itu?

Tanpa disedari dia tiba-tiba dipeluk dari belakang. Dia meronta-ronta. “Lepaskan!”

Pelukkan itu terlalu kejap untuk dileraikan.

Dia diangkat ke atas katil. Dan saat itu baru dia mengerti…

“Pit...pittt…pittttttt!!!!” Adam hampirhampir dilanggar.” Gila punya orang!” Dia diseranah. Tapi dia sudah biasa. Perkataan itu berada di mana-mana. Boleh keluar dari siapa-siapa saja di kota besar ini. Dari peminta sedekah hinggalah orang yang bersut segak. Semuanya sama.

Air mata dibiarkan mengalir. Debu-debu kota yang singgah dipipi menjadikan dia comot. Dia sudah tidak peduli itu lagi.

Apalah gunanya berwajah comel.

Comel.

Selepas malam itu dia bukan lagi Adam.

Dia sudah jadi budak kotor. Dia telah dijadikan pelacur oleh bapanya sendiri. Ada manusia gila yang dahagakan punggungnya yang kecil. Ada manusia gila yang inginkan ‘adik’nya. Dia dijual oleh bapa sendiri. Maruahnya diragut ketika dia cuma sebelas tahun. Koyak rabak punggungnya dikerjakan manusia-manusia durjana itu. Itu kerana dia comel…itu kerana coklat yang manis.

Dia tak tahu sampai bila hidupnya akan

terus begini dan dia tidak tahu adakah cuma dia seorang yang bernasib begini.

Mungkin di luar sana ramai lagi…mungkin cuma dia seorang…mungkin… mungkin...yang pastinya malam ini dia ke situ lagi.

…comel dan coklat…

IMAGE: PORTO BAY EVENTS / FLICKR!

Lelaki itu memuji. Kenapa dia nampak takut? “Okay, biar pak cik bukakan ya.”

Lelaki itu membuka bungkusan coklat itu.

Lalu dihulurkan kepadanya. “Nah, sedap ni tau.”

Adam serba salah. Coklat tu nampak macam sedap. Jarinya bergerak-gerak tetapi hatinya mengatakan jangan.

“Adam…tak suka coklat.” Katanya walaupun air liurnya hampir meleleh. Coklat tu mesti mahal. Nanti aku tak ada duit nak bayar. Adam menolak coklat itu menjauhi dirinya. Matanya berkelip-kelip memandang lelaki di depannya itu. Jiwanya merontaronta.

Bapanya kata dia sukakan coklat. “Betul ke ni?” Ujinya. “Adam tak perlu takut la. Ni pak cik bagi kat Adam. Adam tak payah bayar.

Penat pak cik beli ni.” Pujuknya lagi. “Kalau tak nak, nampaknya pak cik buang sajalah ya.” Umpannya lagi. Degil la budak seorang ni.

Adam teragak-agak lagi. Serba salah. Dia tahu dia inginkan coklat itu.

“Nah. Ambillah.” Pujuk lelaki itu lagi. “Mari duduk sini.” Lelaki itu mengangkatnya ke atas katil. Mereka duduk berhadapan antara satu sama lain. Adam tunduk malu.

Dia tersenyum simpul. Kenapa dia ni baik betul.

Malam makin hampir. Adam masih merayau-rayau ditengah-tengah kesibukkan kota mencari sesuap makanan.

Air matanya berguguran. Dia masih ingat betapa coklat itu rasanya manis. Makin dia kenangkan peristiwa itu, hatinya makin sedih. Pedih dan ngilu.

Awan dilangit nampak makin hitam. Hujan akan turun malam ini nampaknya. Bisik hatinya sambil mendongak ke langit. Di melangkah malas meredah orang ramai yang lalu lalang. Kota besar ini memang sentiasa sibuk. Entah apa yang dikejarkan.

Dia cuma merungut sendirian. Sejak dulu hingga kini itu masih menjadi persoalan.

Kejar duitkah mereka?

****

Esok.

Bila dia buka matanya, hari telah siang.

Bilik mewah itu terang disimbah cahaya mentari dari tingkap kacanya. Dia terbaring di katil empuk itu, berselimut hingga paras leher. Dia menggeliat malas. Badannya terasa penat dan letih. Dia menenyehnenyeh matanya yang silau dek cahaya yang terang. Coklat.

Itu benda pertama yang terlintas

COLLAGE MALAYSIA

What Malaysia Means To Me IMAGE: M M / FLICKR!

Michelle Yang, Taiwan Malaysia has so much to offer. Years of studying in this country have allowed me to learn so much about its culture and people. I like Malaysia, but not enough to call it a home.

Linda Quayle, Isle of Man At the moment, first and foremost, Malaysia means home.

It’s a good home. I feel secure here. It’s warm, bright, colourful, and full of diversity.

It’s an interesting home. I’m never bored.

There’s rarely a day without something quirky, or poignant, or just plain beautiful to focus my attention on.

And it’s a home that feeds me fantastically… (I know. That’s a bit predictable. But you just can’t talk about Malaysia without talking about food.

Malaysians adore food. It’s a national obsession.)

Part of the reason Malaysia provides a good home for me, a non-Malaysian, is that the land and people that now constitute Malaysia have been doing just that for centuries. I’m very aware – uncomfortably so at times – that my sojourner experience is much easier than that of many other temporary arrivals who come looking for opportunity in various guises. My home has long been a crossroads of people and ideas and objects, and their individual experiences have always varied.

But what they have cumulatively left behind – through thick and thin – is a swirl of inter-cultural flows and connections.

And I absolutely love that. I love walking round Brickfields, in the centre of Kuala Lumpur, and seeing religious edifices from what feels like every faith known to humankind. I love the possibility of going to a Malay movie one night, an Indian sitar concert the next, and a Chinese musical the third. I love hearing a medley of different languages on the train on the way to work. I love the fact that the women across the aisle from me might equally well be wearing shorts, or baju kurung, or salwar kameez. I love the constant round of celebrations (because someone in my home is always celebrating something).

And, yes, all this is not without its problems. Sometimes the air in my home is thick with angst and pent-up resentment.

Sometimes the waters of my home get pretty roiled and murky.

But day to day – tub-thumping politicians notwithstanding – there’s still an extraordinary amount of tolerance and graciousness and restraint. Among ordinary Malaysians in ordinary circumstances, there’s an amazing capacity to live and let live.

Whenever I see those qualities in action in everyday life, I’m incredibly proud of Malaysia. Yes, my home has its problems – what home doesn’t? – but in dealing with them, its people generally demonstrate a #4 | CQ MAGAZINE | 41

COLLAGE MALAYSIA

42 | CQ MAGAZINE | #4

Malaysia is the potential it has. Malaysia is a multi-racial, multi-religious society, and has been for generations, which is a beautiful thing. Four languages are being spoken daily all over the country - Malay, Mandarin, Tamil, and English. Islamic, Christian, Hindu, and Buddhist religions are being practiced everywhere. All of these people are true Malaysians, because they have all been there for generations, and thus Malaysia could be a prime example for a modern multi-ethnic society that embraces diversity.

But it isn't. Which is very unfortunate. The law favors certain races over others.

Politicians divide the population by racial and religious lines, and fuel animosity by sowing distrust and fear. Non-bumis are falsely branded as 'guests', sometimes even as trespassers, even though they are full citizens and have long lines of parental ancestries inside Malaysia. Islam is labelled as 'under threat', and under the disguise of protecting Islam, the other religions are being repressed. The siege mentality fuels radical sentiments.

Imagine this wasn't the case. Imagine the potential Malaysia would have, if the population was trusted with being able to

handle the diversity, instead of constantly conjuring up the ghost of the 1969 race riots. If people were just allowed to embrace the diversity, to get along with their neighbours irrespective of race and religion. If the four languages were being taught to in school to everyone, the races could more easily mix. If people were allowed to freely decide which religion they wanted to belong to, or which religious group to choose a partner from.

So what strikes me the most is the potential. Unfortunately it is unrealised potential. If you guys were taught Malay, Chinese, Tamil and English in school, Malaysians would be some of the most sought after business people in the world.

With the Chinese economy being one of the most important economies in the world, the importance of Chinese language skills does not have to be explained. India and Indonesia are two of the fastest growing economies of developing countries in the world, and thus the relevance of Tamil and Malay is immense. And of course English... imagine that!

Plus - in a world that is getting ever smaller, and with migration at incredible levels right now, knowledge and tolerance of other

IMAGE: RASHDAN OTHMAN / FLICKR!

maturity that compares very favourably with attitudes in many other parts of the world.

Like all the best homes, Malaysia enables me to learn, have fun, and – I hope – give something back.

I like it here.

Sabah Carrim, Mauritius Homogenous.

Ches Skinner, Canada My association with Malaysia was not planned. It was, like so many other good things in my life, the result of serendipity.

The university in Canada when I spent my academic career asked if I would go to Kuala Lumpur as a part of a team charged with recruiting new students. That was my first contact and as a side activity I sought out some members of the arts community and was introduced to a number of people working in dance, theatre, and the visual arts. One of these people, Dr. Hatta Azad Khan, suggested that I consider coming back to teach when I retired. I liked that.

In addition to the recruiting I took a trip to Sabah and re-connected with a man and his wife I had gone to university with. He suggested that I contact the Universiti Malaysia Sabah’s School of the Arts. I did that and was invited to return in 2003 to act as their external examiner and teach.

During that time I got to know more Malaysians and was determined to take Dr. Hatta’s advice and seek out further teaching opportunities. The rest, as they say, is history. I spent 5 years at Universiti Teknologi MARA (Puncak Perdana campus) and am currently about to start a second term at the National Arts Academy (ASWARA).

I have travelled to every part of Malaysia and have explored the villages by car, walking, and hiking. (I climbed Mt. Kinabalu!) In retrospect, I have fallen in love with the country. The scenery is spectacular and the climate is wonderful, but that is not entirely what enamours me.

The part of Malaysia that I value the most are the wonderful people I have met throughout the country. These hardworking people are kind, hospitable, and genuinely welcoming. And I love the sense of humour!

I have encountered the same people in my classes in Malaysia and among my colleagues. Malaysia is, for me, a second home.

Shanaz Mohamed, Maldives Home away from home.

Moritz Bunk, Germany So the thing that strikes me the most about

IMAGE: SHAM HARDY / FLICKR!

COLLAGE MALAYSIA

Malaysia may not consider me her son, but in more ways than one, she's my mother

religions is an invaluable social skill. If Malaysians were taught across the board, both in regards to their own languages, as well as in regards to their own religions and socio-cultural traits, Malaysians would be at the forefront as cultural and economic mediators and ambassadors worldwide.

Adam Radhi Agaki, Brunei Malaysia to me is just a set of borders and a branded imagined identity. As is every nation. But the people I have met here and the culture they have generated and propagate is an interesting one. It is rich and diverse and I appreciate its tolerance. It is on an edge, though, I feel, of becoming too divided by economic class and fractured by urban living and the cultures that urban spaces encourage.

East Malaysia seems like a whole different story, a story of finding meaning and meeting wonderful characters along the way.

Bea Angelica Ricafrente, Philippines I’d say…multi-cultural yet incredibly separated? That’s if we’re talking about the people. It was not like this in the other places I’ve lived in. I live in a really diverse place and I have never encountered this issue anywhere. It is way too divided in Malaysia. Even Singapore is not like that.

It’s a food paradise, for sure!

Norman Harsono, Indonesia Well, I tend to see Malaysia relative to Indonesia. The two countries are, after all, neighbours with overlapping pre-colonial histories. Malaysia is far more economically-developed than Indonesia and one of, if not the most, in Southeast Asia.

However, democratically, it is far behind Indonesia due to its institutionalised racism and ultranationalism. It is also corporate, capitalist, authoritarian, and an established sectarian state. At the same time, unlike Indonesia, they did not suppress Chinese culture and protected the Indians, too.

Malaysia did well not to ban Chinese and Indian culture, but by segregating them and the so-called ‘others’ prevents further diversity which makes the state bland in plight of a globalised world.

This will potentially affect its economic development. For many urban, middle class foreign students I’ve talked to, this racial segregation is Malaysia’s most unpleasant feature. It’s especially bizarre because for many lesser-educated persons it’s an accepted doctrine. Being asked, “What is your race?” is unusual, especially if there are only three options imposed for Asians.

Caucasians and Africans have it even weirder.

I haven’t explored Malaysia enough to comment on anything outside that. I do know, however, that the working wages and conditions in general are also one of the best in Southeast Asia; consider how the immigrant influx and how workers get paid lunches, own iPhones and even Monash University students work in cafes and restaurants alongside the working class in places like Lunchbox, Madeline, and Garage 51, among others.

In conclusion, I’d say that the state policies and principles that brought Malaysia to being a Southeast Asian economic power, in an increasingly globalised world, threatens to stagnate further development.

Nine, Northern Ireland In 1999, I spent a week and a half travelling in Malaysia. I was a useless tourist, less interested in wholesome outdoorsy pursuits and more interested in drinking – coincidentally the only thing that was expensive. I didn’t last 24 hours in KL, jetlagged and bored and frustrated. I’d heard something about a sodomy trial that had pissed people off, and I knew I needed to seek out Chinese restaurants in Kota Bharu if I wanted alcohol. But I never paused to consider how issues like these might affect the people who actually lived there.

More than a decade later, I found my way back, after a whole series of unexpected turns in my life. Much as I’d like to revise history now – I’d prefer a story that didn’t hinge on a partner – I was there because I’d fallen for someone I met on a stopover.

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IMAGE: AZLAN DUPREE / FLICKR!

arguments, and finally just pain everywhere I looked. When it ended, the natural thing to do was get the hell out.

But by then, Malaysia had grown to mean so much more to me. The connections I’d made did not depend on association with my ex; they were friendships in their own right. I’d put time and effort into getting to know people, getting to know my way around, getting to know Bahasa and getting to know the political landscape. On top of that, there was of course the food, the climate, the lizards. I stayed away for a few months while I started to put my broken pieces back together. And then I came back.

I’d been looking for happiness with one person but I found it instead with a place.

This latest stage in my relationship with Malaysia is by far the best: on my own terms, fully present, and learning every day.

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Al Ibrahim, Nigeria There's probably no bond in the world stronger and more important than that between mother and child. And there are probably as many different kinds of motherchild relationships as there are mothers and children.

They come in all forms, mother-child relationships. Sometimes the mother is biological. Started the relationship long before the child took its first breath.

Then there's adoption. And foster mothers.

Step mothers. It really does not matter what kind of mother a mother is, or how she came to be one -- the relationship isn't any less important both for the child's and the mother's psyche.

One mother might choose to give her child the benefit of the doubt. Hug the child.

Hold them. She might choose to listen to

this child, have them explain themselves.

To empathise, and hopefully -- maybe -- try to find some common ground.

Another mother might decide to go full on offensive. Be critical. Have the child on high alert. 24 hours a day. 7 days a week. Guilty until proven innocent. And then default to guilt again.

One of these leads to the better relationship. One with love, trust and mutual respect. One, I would argue, that fosters a bond that's unbreakable with distance and time.

Malaysia may not consider me her son, but in more ways than one, she's my mother.

And I really really hope I can have a better relationship with her. I really really hope I can have a better relationship with her.

POETRY ABAH

Di Jiwa Antiplot TEXT: ABAH IMAGE: VICTOR U / FLICKR

Ku tersentuh, jiwa ku utuh Sampai terduduk, sampai terbaring Nun di pelosok hujung dunia Nun jauh dia merintih gelora Gelodak jiwa nafsu kedamaian. Â Ku tersentuh, jiwa ku utuh Lagi terduduk, lagi terbaring Kenang nasib daif nan hina Kenang nasib sakit nan seksa Gelodak terpisah paksi dua bersejarah Bengali Timur CERAI Bengali Barat. Â Kian menyentuh, rasa berlabuh Keruhnya kopi, umpama teh susu Sungai yang di sisinya Dhaka Sungai hubungkan kehebatan Ganges dan Brahmaputra Selalu kita lupa apa adanya air mengalir itu Selalu kita alpakan daya antiplot itu Sungai jiwanya itu simpanan lautan cerita.

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