Across the country
John Cheong, The Star 11 Dec 07;
Tired of reading bad news, a Malaysian cycled 1,200km over 36 days on his trusty Wheeler 910 to rediscover his country and reaffirm his faith in people.
I’ve lived away from Malaysia the last 18 years. In that time, my links have become a little tenuous.
Still, my trips back home for family gatherings, get-togethers with old friends, correspondence with fellow alumni of SM La Salle Petaling Jaya in Selangor, and reading the online news give me a perspective of Malaysian life that saddens me.
There’s rising crime, corruption, questionable use of public funds, and so on. Hearing all this from afar, I feel more than a little helpless and impotent.
I see us losing touch with the values our founding fathers envisioned. The conundrum is that I have about as much influence as a gnat on an elephant’s back, yet to do nothing did not sit well with me.
And so, at 42, I planned to ride from south to north of the country, and meet with ordinary Malaysians.
I would record my encounters in my blog and search for the values Malaysia was founded upon: warmth, kindness, honesty, a moral sense of right and wrong, and a brotherhood that cuts through religion and race.
From Melbourne to Malacca, my idea was warmly received by friends and family. All voiced their support and a number generously made the ride financially possible. And so on Oct 15, I set off from Tanjung Piai, the southernmost point of the peninsula in Johor. My target: Padang Besar in Perlis.
The big adventure
It was the height of the Hari Raya festivities. As I cycled past kampungs, people in their Raya best turned up and waved at me. Kids ran out to give me high-fives, men in coffee shops looked up and smiled: I could not have asked for a more encouraging start.
My first night was in Kukup and I stayed at Oliver Lee’s Floating Chalet.
Gemuk (Fatty) is an undeserving nickname for Oliver, unless chubby equals happy, for he seemed a contented and easy-going man indeed. He confidently gave me the keys to the house on stilts I stayed in and declared Kukup to be very safe. When I wandered around, I noted that many houses were not locked. A far cry from the remote-controlled gates and multiple locks I’m used to in PJ.
Oliver grew up in the nearby Pekan Nenas, lived five years in Kuala Lumpur during the late 60s and went to Kukup when he married a local girl. He has lived there since and loves the peaceful, honest nature of the place. He told me the various races, even the Orang Laut, all mixed together freely.
Kukup is popular with visitors from Singapore and the southern Malaysian towns and it’s easy to see why. The lure of seafood, the novel spectacle of a town on stilts and the generally slow pace all give the place a genial and welcoming air.
Travelling on the trunk road to Pontian and then to Batu Pahat, I continued to be received warmly. People on the roadside would wave, and truck drivers going in the opposite direction would toot their horns in encouragement.
My arrival at the numerous stalls I visited over the five weeks on the road were almost always greeted with smiles and a warm, “Dari mana?” (Where are you from?)
One particularly inspiring morning was spent in Pekan Seri Menanti in Johor where I had breakfast with a DAP and an UMNO representative. Chinese and Malay, they were old friends who just happened to have different political loyalties.
Despite their differences, they each considered the other a good friend and often met up for breakfast. In this modest shop, everyone – Chinese, Malay and Indian – greeted everyone else with a smile and a handshake. Here, in just the first week, were the ideals I was searching for!
I dropped by to see old friends in Malacca and found more. I’ve always liked the place but never really figured out why. Perhaps it was that old and new existed side-by-side, and various places of worship – temples, mosques and churches – were built in the same area.
In nearby Pantai Kemunting, I spent an afternoon with some World Wildlife Fund friends who were working hard to save the Hawksbill Turtle. Young and passionate, Min Min, Arvind, Grace and Hafiz work against the odds – out of 14,000 eggs collected last year, only seven are expected to reach adulthood, they tell me. But they battle on, even having to deal with physical threats from poachers. Certainly admirable.
Port Dickson was nice, but Morib, less so. A general air of disrepair greeted my return to my home state. From cracked and sunken concrete steps to pavilions sitting in pools of stagnant water, and wooden lookouts with broken steps and railings, Morib kind of dampened the good feelings I’d picked up thus far.
In the Klang Valley, I found less affability than I had become used to: it seemed that friendliness and cities were mutually exclusive. A few days later, I felt glad to leave the dust, pollution, curtness, hustle and bustle of Selangor and hit the road again.
# Next week, John Cheong will relate how he encountered abundant kindness and warmth up north. Read more about his exploits at john-budakkampung.blogspot.com.
