PCORE & OFA
have great pleasure in inviting you to a
LUNCHEON TALK
with
DATO’ DR ANWAR FAZAL
THE INTERFAITH CHALLENGE
Seeking A Common Ground
Date: Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Time: 12.30pm
Place: CHINA TREASURES
KL Golf & Country Club, Bukit Kiara
RSVP
Tai Zee Kin 019 – 4456171 (PCORE)
Kumeran Balachandran 012 – 3833627 (OFA)
CITIZEN demonstrations in the form of a public gathering of people in a rally or walking in a march are fast becoming synonymous with the democratic awakening in many countries, signifying the people’s fundamental right to freedom of assembly. They are regarded as a form of civil society activism where the masses are directly involved and the person in the street literally “walks the talk” in championing honourable causes such as fighting injustice and corruption, establishing equal rights or clean and fair elections.
In a public demonstration, protestation against societal wrongs – perceived or real – is collectively shared and the participants feel empowered by the group’s solidarity. They are seen to be proactively managing their own affairs instead of passively leaving them in the hands of the authorities. When tens of thousands of people gather to jointly express an opinion or make a stand, it is hard not to see it as a living example of participatory democracy and egalitarianism.
Done in a controlled and decorous manner such as in a sit-in demonstration, it can bring out the best intentions and the most reasonable voices to articulate them. The danger is that in a street march, the sea of people in the moving current spreading across the city has the potential to throw up the most belligerent among the multitudes who will, intentionally or otherwise, drown the most reasonable voices.
Some see public demonstrations as “consensus decision-making”, or “direct action” where citizens make their choices in a decentralised way, not through the apparatus of the government administration. Instead of going through the prescribed route of lodging a police report on corrupt practices, or writing a letter of complaint to the erring department or agency, or addressing the issue privately with the member of parliament or local council, they choose to give vent to their frustrations in a public outcry. The clarion call is the citizen’s prerogative to assemble to protest and protect his rights in a democracy, irrespective of status or background.
The urgent manner of the protest is designed to apply pressure and get the authorities to right the wrongs. The expected outcome of citizen demands made en masse is immediate response from the authorities – surely the ideals of participatory democracy in an ideal world!
The real world however is far from ideal. Real people are not always reasonable and fair especially when emotions are aroused. Much as we trumpet the virtues of equality and egalitarianism, humans are not equal in their physical and emotional attributes. The socio-cultural, economic and educational environments are not equal in turning out the most moderate and reasonable citizens, endowed with the best attributes for an ideal civil society.
Even the best security features and tested methods of crowd control such as water cannons and tear gas fail the police when they are dealing with the emotions of the masses. Instead of seeing this as a way of protecting citizen safety in an unruly mob situation, angry people see the police as abusing their authority. To them, this is not the most civilised manner of dealing with people who are your fellow citizens.
While remaining true to our ideals, duties and responsibilities especially at the national level, there must be a concerted move towards creating physically and psychologically safer spaces for freedom of expression and speech among the citizenry. There must be room for reasoned and reasonable citizen participation in order for egalitarian processes to be procedurally and substantively mature. The idea of the ends justifying the means is deeply problematic and should not be literally interpreted by civil society leaders including politicians. The statement that “You can’t create a just society through violence, or freedom through a tight revolutionary cadre … The means and ends have to be the same” must be seriously considered.
To me personally, it was sad to see the rakyat take to the streets to do what they thought was right viz to right the wrongs in the nation’s election processes and procedures. The Bersih 3.0 modus operandi of street demonstrations has created unprecedented unrest and dissension among Malaysians. But the organisers must realise the danger when people are unruly and confused.
The purity of the argument that it’s the people’s right to express their displeasure and demand a hearing from an elected government is tainted by the fact that in expressing your right to ruffle the establishment, you are stepping on the right of others who might choose a different way.
So my question is: Are street demos really the way to go in pursuit of a mature democracy?
WHILE the ranking of a country’s systems or institutions by world bodies can be used as an indicator of comparative performance, it cannot be used as the ultimate measure of their achievements.
While commissioned surveys and studies provide quick statistical indicators, they are no less contrived in the respondents selected or the Yes/ No questionnaires devised. The criteria used are often skewed towards getting particular data from a sampling of the population.
Very often, they do not elicit a full or complete response from respondents who find the questions vague or ambiguous. The statistics derived are thus not always conclusive and, at best, provide a partial reading of the situation.
What must be considered as more relevant indicators are the articula-tions on the ground, that is the people’s reasoned expression of their concerns about the nation’s mecha-nisms such as its education system.
While much of the rakyat’s input will be anecdotal and personal, the sum total of their subjective experiences will give a more comprehensive picture than any survey or ranking can.
They would have identified the positive attributes to be maintained and consolidated. More importantly, they would have experienced the many loopholes and shortcomings. What better knowledge than first-hand experience?
A great part of any education review is feedback from specialists and education experts who should be equipped with a wide perspective of education philosophies and policies and their translation into the curriculums of schools and institutions of higher learning – not only of their own country but also successful systems established in other countries.
The review panel must therefore comprise the wisest and most informed group of individuals who will be able to manage, select and prioritise the enormous data in order to come up with a set of pragmatic and workable recommendations.
While the country’s education philosophy and its policies must be definitive at the macro level, its resources, including its human capital, must be operable at the day-to-day level.
It is in this spirit that we welcome the National Dialogue Townhall – a series of dialogues to be held throughout the country from April 29 with the general public as well as specific groups, such as students, teachers and community leaders.
A category that should be formally identified are education associations representing the different subject areas such as the Malay language, English language and history.
The Malaysian English Language Teaching Association, for instance, is a long-established organisation with a huge following among the country’s English school language teachers.
The Malaysian Association of Modern Languages has as its members language and linguistics experts, university lecturers and students who have on-going research programmes and activities on the ground. They must be invited to give useful and up-to-date input.
As stated by the chairman for the National Dialogue on Education, Tan Sri Wan Mohd Zahid Mohd Nordin, in the newspaper advertorial, the dialogues will focus on nine priority areas among which are teachers, school leaders, school quality, curriculum and evaluation, multilingual proficiency and the role of parents and the community.
The promised transformation of the education system is directly linked to the bigger mission of producing “holistic individuals with a mastery in several skills, namely leadership and communication” and “high quality students” who will contribute their expertise in making Malaysia a “high-income nation”.
It is hoped that outstanding business and corporate individuals such as Tan Sri Tony Fernandes and Tan Sri Zarinah Anwar on the education review panel will be able to synergise their pragmatic con-cerns with the academic concerns expressed by the equally eminent vice-chancellors and academicians in the group.
Through their goodwill and influence they must urge the greater collaboration and commit-ment of the private sector in contribu-ting their resources in more formal and definitive ways. The Malaysian corporate world must rise above their token CSR handouts to adopt more substantive measures to turn around the country’s education system.
For instance, in the area of language teaching and learning which is the bane of the system but which forms the bedrock of the teaching and learning of all other academic subjects, there must be private sponsorship of language labs and language learning equipment like recorders and tapes.
While the former is expensive to have on a large scale, the latter are cheap and readily accessible to teachers and students.
I would like to urge multinational corporations producing audio-visual equipment and the numerous service providers like Celcom and Maxis to be truly innovative and come up with Malaysia’s own mobile, personal language labs and learning devices.
It will be part of their national service to come up with user-friendly equipment for nationwide distribution. Public universities can be mobilised to produce software in the form of high-quality language tapes and CDs.
It is this kind of clever thinking and wise decision-making that is required for education transformation, not more rhetoric please!
BEFORE independence and in the years immediately after, Malaysian parents’ school of choice for their children was the English-medium school. A legacy of British rule, these schools attracted a good mix of the country’s ethnic groups, with the Chinese dominating in urban areas. Malay parents were persuaded to enrol their children directly or in the Special Malay Class of the English schools after their primary education in Malay. Like most urban Malays and Chinese, the town Indians saw value in a good English education.
All subjects in the school curriculum save for the languages and Islamic religious studies were taught in English – the socio-culturally and politically “neutral” language in the country. Paradoxically, although touted among certain quarters as the Christian colonialists’ expansionist tool, it was English that united teachers and school children of all ethnic backgrounds as they studied, communicated and bonded in the language. Most importantly, learning in English opened minds to a broad base of knowledge and sharpened language and communication skills in the international language.
In studying English literature, Malaysian students were constantly exposed to universal human values espoused in the classics and in history, including the history of world religions, they were enlightened on significant events as well as to the deeds of visionary leaders. Except in mission schools where Christian prayers were said at school assemblies and to celebrate festive occasions, the English schools remained secular in orientation and ambience with no domination of one set of cultural values over another. Malaysians were then a culturally confident and secure people in their homes and ethnic communities.
The first transformation occurred with the formulation of the Education Act of 1961 (input by the Razak Report of 1956 and the Rahman Talib Report of 1960) when the federal education policy became ostensibly defined by the nation’s political ideals of establishing “a national system of education … to promote the cultural, economical and political advancement in this country, besides making the Malay language the national language …” With the complete switch to Malay-medium national schools in 1970, the public school system has continuously accommodated the growing demands of Chinese and Tamil-language education of national-type schools.
Thus, from the language and culture neutrality of an English education, the country’s education system has become linguistically and culturally fragmented with all its socio-cultural ramifications. The growth of the Malay language and culture has been advanced along with that of Chinese and Tamil. Successive educational reforms have attempted to add value to a multi-layered education system which equitably reflects the multiethnic, multilingual and multicultural composition of the rakyat.
However, over the last three decades there have been disconcerting developments with each school-type promoting its cause in less discreet ways, each pointing a finger at the other for its popularity or lack of it. One of the reasons proffered for the mushrooming of private schools and national-type schools, especially Sekolah Jenis Kebangsaan Cina, is that Sekolah Kebangsaan have become predominantly Malay in the composition of their staff and students. Their Muslim veneer and ambience, it is said, are frightening the Chinese, Indians and other non-Muslims away – all disturbing developments in a secular education system.
So, apart from cosmetic reforms like the PPSMI or the MBMMBI, or abolishing examinations and opting for innovative learning methodologies, what can be done to prevent the more substantive erosion of a unifying national education policy?
Fifty years on and with a more enlightened and confident Malaysian public, it is time to embark on a second transformation of the education system. To balance the Malay, Chinese and Tamil linguistic and cultural silos entrenched in national and national-type schools, a neutral dimension must be added by way of a more rigorous English education. English, after all, is the first language of many Malaysians.
What the country needs to move forward is a transforming bilingual education system supported by a sound Bilingual Education Policy. To circumvent the continuous bargaining between the country’s three major ethnic groups in their bid to assume linguistic and cultural superiority, the English language must resurface as a peace and pacemaker.
Among others, the following changes can be implemented:
– Make English the language of instruction for the English language, literature and history in all the school types;
– Incorporate English reading and references for other subjects taught in Malay, Chinese and Tamil;
– Phase out Malay-Muslim cultural elements of national schools;
– Balance the appointments of school heads and teachers from all ethnic groups in national and national-type schools;
– Balanced the intake of students from all ethnic groups in national and national-type schools.
The Malay-medium national school must be transformed to become the school of choice for Malaysian parents and their children because it is seen as upholding the spirit of inclusivity and oneness of the national ideology. The transformation requires courage and conviction, and a transparently structured implementation plan.
THERE is much talk about volunteerism these days and many groups purporting to be doing voluntary work in the community. There are individuals, friendly groups, corporate departments as well as registered charities and organisations who have defined for themselves the kind of work to be undertaken for the betterment of society.
Volunteerism can be defined as “a societal responsibility to join in, to give freely of one’s time to assist others”. In its purest form it is a selfless, altruistic and philanthropic deed that has as its motive the desire to do good, to help oneself and others achieve the same. Its manifestations however are huge and cover the whole gamut of societal concerns. There are movements and organisations galore declaring volunteerism as their modus operandi, all claiming to do selfless work and inviting people to contribute generously of their time and effort.
Indeed, the calling to do good is clear in all faiths and religions. In the holy books of each religion are urgings such as in Islam: “And everyone has a goal to which he turns himself, so vie with one another in good work”; in Christianity: “Show yourself in all respects to be a model of good work, and in your teaching show integrity, dignity and sound speech that cannot be condemned”; in Buddhism: “Teach this triple truth to all – a generous heart, kind speech, and a life of service and compassion are the things which renew humanity”; in Hinduism: “Through selfless work, love of God grows in the heart. Then, through His grace, one realises Him in course of time”; and in the Baha’i faith: “The fruits of the human tree are exquisite, highly desired and dearly cherished. Among them are upright character, virtuous deeds and a goodly utterance”.
Looking at the policies and programmes of government departments and agencies through grants, financial aid and welfare schemes; corporations and businesses through CSR; and charities, NGOs, citizen movements and community groups through their work on the ground, one can see that Malaysians are indeed striving to do good and contributing their bit to society. The country is not lacking in people who have the intention of helping the disadvantaged in society by giving in cash or kind, and by contributing knowledge, skills and expertise. It can be argued that Malaysia has all the characteristics of a welfare state with a well-developed welfare system in the making.
I am, however, more interested in the kind of voluntary work whose objectives are to improve the mindset of the people; to create awareness; to equip them with information and knowledge; to uplift their thinking and attitudes; to encourage good habits and conduct. Unlike voluntary work that focuses on meeting people’s basic need for food, shelter and physical comforts which are visible and more easily measured, efforts to improve the people’s mental and psychological capacities are more difficult to assess. Educating and creating awareness of issues that matter are a continuous process and require ongoing programmes and activities. While you may see immediate improvements in the former, the latter may defy short-term results and instead have long-term, more lasting outcomes.
Voluntary organisations which focus on engaging the rakyat in face to face interaction and discourse on issues of national concern are at the forefront of this important civil society movement. In the country’s current socio-political mood, it becomes all the more urgent that the people are not only exposed to sensible and reasonable arguments but that they themselves have the opportunity to speak up and make their voices heard (in speech or writing). It is crucial that ordinary citizens input the national discourse and express their views to be taken cognisance of by those in power. In this way, any societal change is executed with the people’s interest at heart.
These organisations then bear the responsibility of ensuring that the right target groups are mobilised to partake of these discussions. At a recent forum on religion and unity organised by Insap and Yayasan 1Malaysia, it was disappointing to see the dismal turnout and less than substantial input by the audience. As the moderator of the panel discussion, I wondered why the organising committee had invited such prominent speakers to volunteer their time to engage the public on a Saturday afternoon, and yet did not ensure a larger audience and a fuller participation.
For those of us who believe in volunteerism, let it not be said that we are doing it for “vested interests”. Let our objectives be transparently relevant to the groups we identify and let our outreach among them be impactful
IN THE wake of the abduction and brutal murder of five-year-old Nurul Nadirah the most pressing question is how a helpless little child could have been made the pawn in the games that the adults in her community play.
That feuding parties would blackmail and threaten lives in their hatred for one another seems like the age-old psychological disease of mankind. This is the very stuff of territorial wars among primitive societies and even in the modern-day clashes of civilisations. As much as humans strive for peace, there seems to be an unending occurrence of conflict.
But when individuals, families and neighbours manifest this sick behaviour in the community they should be in harmony with, one wonders what has caused them to go over the brink of sanity to wreak mayhem. One wonders if the families and the neighbourhoods are indeed supportive and harmonious.
For some, eking a decent living places tremendous pressure on their lives. If their families are large, the problems are 10-fold and every day is an endless cycle of making ends meet. This is the stark reality of being at the tail end of the vicious cycle of poverty.
Add to this the phenomenon of low-cost flat-dwelling where nine or 10 members of the extended family are huddled together with little physical space for private relief and peace of mind. Imagine the pressure and hardship borne by the breadwinners.
And compare this with the rural kampung where many of the city migrants come from – where neighbours are either your extended family or your friends who look out for you and mind your business; where the traditional habit of “jaga tepi kain orang” or poking your nose in people’s affairs keeps the community in check and helps to prevent untoward behaviour.
This is where the adage of “charity begins at home” would be observed and the extra bowl of rice would be generously offered to tide you over your rough patch.
Yes – how many of us living in affluent neighbourhoods or in gated residential areas and luxury condominiums of cities can admit to knowing our neighbours or interacting with them?
Apart from the rare occasions when we catch a glimpse of them to nod our heads and wave our hands, do we make a real effort to foster good neighbourliness? Do we really love our neighbours as our holy books implore us to? No – because we are told not to be busybodies and we’re convinced privacy is of the utmost importance.
One can imagine how little Nurul Nadirah’s climbing up and down the four flights of stairs and walking the extra stretch to shop for family groceries would have probably been considered “normal” among her family and the flat dwellers.
After all errands such as this are what children are asked to do in familiar neighbourhoods and friendly communities. What one cannot imagine is that there were unfriendly eyes watching her every move.
So how do we move from this gruesome and heart-wrenching episode that now tugs at the national heart strings? How can society ensure that these despicable crimes are not allowed to penetrate the traditionally safe areas of family and neighbours?
How can the police, Rela and rukun tetangga consolidate their community watch? How can there be better security and surveillance in residential areas be they housing estates, flats or luxury condominiums? How can parents and families be educated to observe the greatest care when managing their young families?
When the abduction of a child or young person has taken place, do we have an effective system to quickly mobilise our resources to prevent the worst from happening. Does Malaysia have an efficient child abduction alert system benchmarked against internationally accredited models like the Amber Alert established in Texas in 1996?
Wikipedia states that:
“AMBER Alerts are distributed via commercial radio stations, internet radio, satellite radio, television stations, and cable TV by the Emergency Alert System and NOAA Weather Radio[4][5] (where they are termed “Child Abduction Emergency” or “Amber Alerts”). The alerts are also issued via e-mail, electronic traffic-condition signs, the LED billboards which are located outside of newer Walgreens locations,[6] along with the LED/LCD signs of billboard companies such as Clear Channel Outdoor, CBS Outdoor and Lamar,[7] or through wireless device SMS text messages”.
Is our own NUR Alert established by the Women, Family and Community Development Ministry in collaboration with the police and other enforcement agencies working efficiently?
Without pointing fingers, can Malaysians just get on with the business of promoting good neighbourliness? Please mind one another’s business.
MY DEAREST MAK
Mak died in the wee hours of the morning of Monday 9 February 1983. It must have been just after subuh when her heart gave way – untimely and unexpected. When Bah woke her up for breakfast she was gone, heart pills gripped tightly in her left fist. She did not have the time.
No time for the goodbyes she must have wanted so much to say that Sunday. Her heart must have missed several beats as she anxiously watched the driveway for one of her children’s cars to appear. She must have felt so alone then, so rindu and pilu when no one showed up.
Mak’s heart was vulnerable for the love she felt and the care she gave – deeply and quietly. We saw it in the gestures of kindness extended to the less advantaged members of her extended family; the generous hospitality shown to her friends and guests; the enormous comforts laid out for her husband, children and grandchildren. She did not have the heart to turn away anyone even if it meant huge personal sacrifices. It was not in her to say no.
It is said that to care and love deeply, one must have experienced much of the same in one’s life. That love was Khadijah’s gift from her father Sidang Abdul Manan, the village chief, who doted on his 5 year old daughter when her mother died at childbirth. The care came from her favourite induk in the remote Minangkabau enclave of Kampung Mantai. Ijah was their little pet and they were her surrogate parents. Such is the virtue of rural kinship.
Born in 1914, Khadijah was the oldest of Abdul Manan’s children and grew up to be not only the kampung beauty but their pride and joy. At 17 she left home to undergo a two-year training in the prestigious Kandang Kerbau hospital in Singapore returning home a qualified midwife or bidan at 19. Abdul Manan was indeed a man before his time for allowing his beloved daughter to be educated across the causeway and to escape a badly arranged marriage. And so for many years Che Jah, as people knew her, was on call carrying her rattan beg bidan and attending to the home births common in those days.
Khadijah’s marriage to Mohamed Said on 9 April 1932 was borne out of an amorous courtship in Singapore when she was a midwifery student and he, a medical undergraduate. They fell deeply in love and allowed their hearts to reign despite the adat obstacles, for she was a lass from a Minangkabau suku and he, a lad from a Bugis clan.
As Mohamed Said vividly describes Khadijah in his unpublished manuscripts:
She was of medium height and had a full rounded body generally described in Malay as “gempal”, meaning neither fat nor thin. Her complexion was what was described in Malay as “putih melepak” i.e. extremely white. For a Malay girl she had a finely chiseled nose, not commonly observed among the Malays. Her moderately wavy hair fell to the level of her waist, when loosened from the chignon at the nape of her neck, which was the way she chose to wear it. The only flaw in her features, if it can indeed be described as a flaw or defect, was that instead of having the large lustrous eyes of the typical Malay, the cast of her features included eyes that resembled those of the average Chinese girl…
All of which added to the romance in their relationship:
…I had fallen head over heels in love with Khadijah. I told Munah that I intended to marry her as soon as possible after my graduation…Munah must have told her of my intention to marry her, for soon after she began to blush whenever she met me in the labour ward and sometimes to smile sweetly at me. She even went further to indicate that she was beginning to fall in love with me. What she occasionally did was to playfully threaten to hit my head from behind with the obstetric forceps that she had been told to sterilize…
Wasting no time the freshly qualified doctor braved himself to face Khadijah’s father and ask for her hand in marriage – something quite out of the ordinary for a young man to do in those days. Adat would have required a family elder to act as the mediator and spokesperson and to make several tedious trips along the one hundred miles that separated the two remote kampung Linggi in Negeri Sembilan and Nyalas in Melaka. But the pragmatic doctor waved aside tradition in pursuit of the love of his life. And the village chief was not too reluctant to be persuaded.
And thus Khadijah became a medical officer’s wife during Dr Mohamed Said’s long service as a government doctor in pre independence Malaya, serving in the states of Selangor, Pahang and Negeri Sembilan. She bore him seven children – six daughters and a son – five of whom were born during their 11-year stay in Pahang. After the war when her husband left for two years to pursue his specialist training in the United Kingdom, Khadijah was to singlehandedly care for her young brood.
Mak loved her family dearly – husband, seven children and seventeen grandchildren. Her greatest comfort was to have the family gathered around her – husband teasing, children bantering, grandchildren frolicking. Her greatest joy was to see us tucking into the delectable dishes she had cooked, baked, fried, steamed and boiled, relishing the lauk-pauk - ikan goreng asam, udang peria, pencuk daging salai, pucuk labu tumis air, masak tempoyak petai and the kuih-muih - genggang, kesui and lompang made regularly for lunch, dinner and afternoon tea. And then there were the speciality recipes – rendang rempah, kuih bakar, dodol labu and puding nangka – made for special guests and festive occasions.
As the wife of the Menteri Besar of Negeri Sembilan (MBNS) from 1959 -1969, Khadijah’s culinary skills were well tested and honed as state guests and visiting dignitaries were regularly feted at 4 Lake Road, Seremban the official residence. Even when the guest list ran into hundreds, Khadijah would ensure the menu included her own special recipes – the savoury rendang rempah of beef and innards, the sweet kuih bakar baked between smouldering sabut embers and the steamed puding nangka being the three favourites.
Khadijah undertook her official duties well, complementing her husband’s role as head of the state administration and Ketua UMNO. In those days it was customary for the MB’s wife to be the Ketua Kaum Ibu as the women’s wing of UMNO was then called. From the early days, the UMNO women played a largely secondary role lending moral and physical support to the male-dominated political party, especially in the months and days leading up to the general elections. And so Khadijah’s party loyalty was entrenched.
But it was in her domestic role as a loyal wife and doting mother that Mak’s legacy will be most cherished. Her only son will not forget how she painstakingly saw to his every need. Her daughters will remember how Mak looked after them during their confinement, making sure both mother and baby had the best post-natal care, the best sup ayam and hati masak kicap. It was during these periods that Mak’s knowledge of Western medicine and nutrition, acquired no doubt from her doctor husband and her own training as a midwife, overruled the traditional herbs and healing practices. And thus, the women in the family grew old believing more in the dietary potency of vitamins and minerals than the magical powers of jamu and majun.
Mak’s values were old-world yet modern as she accommodated the changing patterns of life, the transition from the feudal kampung culture to the more democratic milieu of town life in the post-independence society. Assisting Bah in his private practice at Said Clinic, she was to encounter patients from all walks of life. Her own children were educated in the Seremban Convent and King George V School and regularly intermingled with their Indian and Chinese classmates and friends. Her neighbours in Hose Road were the Goh, Lee, Sundram and Thamboo families. Mak welcomed them all into our home.
Mak went about her ways quietly, without fuss or ceremony. She was up with the larks and by nine in the morning, groomed and dressed in her crisply starched voile baju kurung and cotton kain batik lasam. Always she would have an embroidered hankerchief tucked in her pocket. Her hair was always sleekly oiled with minyak Zam Zam, her chignon sometimes embellished with a sprig of her favourite flower the kenanga. Her skin was smoothened daily with Nivea crème or Hazeline Snow and finished off with a pat of bedak batu. Always she smelled of her favourite scents Blue Grass or Chanel No 5.
As she must have been that Sunday. The image of Mak sitting by the louvered windows in the end room till senja, looking out for a car that would stop at the gate of Teratak Jasa haunts me to this day. My heart weeps to think how dejected she must have felt not to see her beloved children and grandchildren and how much she must have missed us. To this day I grieve for Mak’s grief!
Halimah Mohd Said
14 January 2012
WATCHING the war drama epic War Horse at the cinema with five of my 11 grandchildren I wondered about many of the themes which the movie evoked – the spiritual bonding between a horse and his master, the devotion of a woman to her family, the unshakeable pride of a man, the honour of war and the patriotism of the military. The most poignant of all must surely be the belief and faith in oneself and the sacrifices one makes to this end.
True to his reputation as a movie maker, Steven Spielberg has produced another classic in the tradition of the old-world movies so dearly missed by the baby boomers, septuagenarians and octogenarians among us. The movies we watched as youngsters had simple story lines of undying love, profound loyalty or devastating betrayal. Stark white virtues such as honesty, commitment and integrity were pitted against charcoal black vices such as deceit, injustice and dishonour. But good always triumphed over evil.
Thus, seeing through the piercing eyes of the war horse Joey and feeling through the young man Albert’s bleeding heart, my grandchildren and I watched the plot unfolding. The financial problems of the Narracott family caused mainly by Ted’s pride and drinking lead to his son’s perseverance in teaching his horse to plough the family’s ravaged land. All to no avail as war breaks out and Joey is recruited into the cavalry to endure its extreme dangers and hardships. But as fate sometimes makes up for its cruel beginnings, Joey the war horse and Albert the soldier are later reunited amid much rejoicing in a military hospital.
A simple enough tale readers may say, so why my self-indulgence?
What struck me most about the movie and what Spielberg was able to convey through the protagonists, were the attachments that humans form as they plough through life’s vicissitudes. Inherent in the human spirit is the need to bond with something or someone, and for that feeling to be reciprocated. We need to feel appreciated for our efforts no matter how menial the tasks are. In congenial, familiar and family settings we need to feel loved as much as we give and show love – unconditionally sometimes.
For some, a pet animal’s responses which they painstakingly bring out demonstrate this special bond. We witness this reciprocity of emotional and even spiritual and mental bonding between Joey and Albert. Horse and young man seem devoted to and protective of each other.
For parents, what greater fulfilment than to see your children manifest all that you’ve taught them in their personality and character, and of course in their worldly achievements. As parents we strive to bring up our children with the values that we ourselves believe in. These are the family values that were nurtured in our own upbringing – influenced by our customs and traditions, strengthened by our faiths and belief systems, and consolidated by our education and training.
However much against our will, we have to admit that the world beyond the home with its numerous challenges has a way of overtaking us. Peer pressure, work requirements, corporate and social ambitions impact our basic values and sometimes change us drastically.
It is necessary for the most impeccable among us to take a step back ever so often to remind ourselves of our raison d’etre – the most important reason or purpose for our existence. Here, I shall not even attempt to be holier than thou by breaking out into a religious sermon but focus on pragmatic matters.
In day-to-day living, at home or at work, we have to be sure of our objectives. Whether we want to ensure our children have the best education or the best career prospects, we have to remind them and ourselves that these are worldly attachments to be pursued without compromising our integrity.
It’s a personal challenge not to think that work and career achievements are the end-all and be-all of our existence, especially when we are faced with a barrage of affirmations on the national transformation plans. Outstanding are the pronouncements on economic development, financial and fiscal management.
Every day there are schemes and programmes being announced to give financial aid to deserving Malaysians for them to eke out a decent living from these government incentives. It seems as though their every need is being addressed and managed.
But it seems as though there is no comprehensive transformation plan for the moral and ethical development of the nation and its rakyat. Corporate governance here, integrity pledges there, declaration of assets and regulations on political funding. They are all coming together it seems.
How can we convince Malaysians that the attachments sealed by economic and material advancements are ephemeral while those inspired by love and human bonding, and kindled by honour and integrity are the most enduring? How can we tell Malaysians that these values are worth every sacrifice?
TO expose schoolchildren to English in more spontaneous ways, it is necessary to create an environment where they can pick up the language through communicative activities that appeal to the young. This will augment the formal classroom learning where the oft-lamented problems are inadequate exposure time and poor teaching skills.
For the more affluent children and better schools the exposure to good English is not an issue. The English language proficiency and teaching skills of teachers are not in question. These children can also afford extra tuition after school hours and their homes have ample materials to encourage them to read, write and speak in English. Family and peer interaction in English is good. All this will augment the classroom English Language Teaching and Learning (ELT) creating the “total immersion” environment necessary for successful language acquisition.
There are many individuals and groups who are doing work on the ground to supplement the work done by schools, the NST reading programme being a long-standing one. What better way to motivate schoolchildren than through interactive paired and group work where they get immediate feedback.
The Association of Voices of Peace, Conscience and Reason (PCORE) has come up with the English Language Integration Camp to expose selected Year Five students to English through fun activities during the weekend. For just three hours on either Saturday or Sunday, the underprivileged students from the national and national type primary schools are given exposure to English under the guidance of a graduate facilitator who will conduct these interactive and communicative sessions.
Besides helping to supplement the English language curriculum and syllabus painstakingly prepared by the Education Ministry and translated into lesson plans and classroom activities by the teachers, the weekend camps will assist parents in providing the extra immersion time in English which some can ill afford. It will provide the perfect opportunity for bonding among the students from different schools and ethnic backgrounds which will directly or indirectly foster national integration among young Malaysians.
PCORE are delighted that the Ministry of Women, Family and Community Development in particular the LPPKN, are in full support of our proposal and applaud their officers for being receptive to new ideas.
We wonder why the ministry that is directly responsible for language education has not been forthcoming after our letters of application were sent to the minister and director general of education.
Datin Halimah Mohd Said
President
Association of Voices of Peace, Conscience and Reason
