How I had to become Chinese
So, yes, I was not born Chinese. In fact, I was not born Malay either. As far as my mind was concerned I was Mat Salleh with a Malay father. But I made sure I was more Chinese than Malay because my mother-in-law was Chinese and very fixed in her Chinese ways.
NO HOLDS BARRED
Raja Petra Kamarudin
I never really learned how to be Malay. The fact that I did not speak Malay properly (until I was in my mid-20s) made it worse. When I was sent to the Malay College Kuala Kangsar (MCKK) in 1963 at age 13 I hated it. In the first few weeks I cried every night and wrote home almost every day asking my father to take me out of that school.
Being in a school exclusively for Malay boys was not, as the English would say, my cup of tea. And I got bullied and was called Mat Salleh sesat because I could not speak Malay properly and spoke English like how English should be spoken (which added to my misery). But my grandfather, father, uncles (the late Agong included) and almost the entire two generations before me all went to College. So I, the third generation, was expected to uphold the family tradition.
Halfway through form three my father finally agreed to take me out of College and I was sent to VI (Victoria Institution) where I could be amongst my non-Malay friends. Yim Seng, Chee Chai (Yong Boon), Rajadurai, Gurmit (Singh), Onn (Roslan), Sam, and so on, were my best friends and we always ‘ran in a pack’.
Outside VI my best friends were Eddie Chan, Eddie Wong, ‘Boy’ King, Charles, Dennis (Lourdes), Ravi (Pat Long Fu), Peter (Chin) and his brother Moses, Richard (36) and many more. There was never a day we would not meet up somewhere to drink beer, smoke ganja and fight (OCPD Fernandez was always phoning my father to complain about this last pastime of ours).
To ‘run’ with this type of crowd I needed to be ‘un-Malay’ (which was not really that difficult anyway). There were times I even had to join them in their chasiew fan and black tahu (pork’s blood). It was a ‘small concession’ I had to make to prove I was un-Malay. Anyway, if I drank beer (plus the ‘harder’ stuff) and smoked ganja, what difference does chasiew and black tahu make?
When I met Mable d/o James Anthony Lee, we both knew we were going to be lifetime partners. She had just turned 14 and I was 17 going on 18. We were inseparable and were practically together all the time save for when she was in school. (I would send her to school and pick her up after school).
The fact that we almost lived together meant that I had to become Chinese to fit in. I had to learn what it meant to be Chinese and do all the right Chinese things. I had to understand the taboos and beliefs of the Chinese.
Chinese New Year meant the family got together with roast suckling pig. I had to get used to this pig staring at me in the middle of the table. I did not touch it, and they did not expect me to, but I also did not feel offended about something that was definitely taboo in Islam.
On Christmas Eve I escorted Mable to midnight mass. I was not Christian. Mable was. So I did not pray when I went to church. But I still escorted Mable to church anyway because it is only proper that we are together on Christmas and that we went to church together.
My mother decided that since we were practically living together we should get married. So, once Mable turned 18, we tied the knot. I was 22.
I brought Mable to Masjid Negara so that she could convert to Islam. The Imam Besar of Masjid Negara said that she actually need not convert and can remain a Christian to marry me (PAS President Abdul Hadi Awang said the same thing).
But Mable wanted to convert anyway (and not because of our marriage) and she took the name Marina.
To legitimise our marriage the Chinese way I kowtowed to my mother-in-law and served her tea. I could see she was very touched with this gesture and was trying very hard to hold back her tears. I understood that this was the proper Chinese thing to do and although Marina (by then) and I were both Muslims, Chinese culture and traditions must still be observed.
So, yes, I was not born Chinese. In fact, I was not born Malay either. As far as my mind was concerned I was Mat Salleh with a Malay father. But I made sure I was more Chinese than Malay because my mother-in-law was Chinese and very fixed in her Chinese ways.
I made sure Marina’s car had ‘88’ number plates and not ‘44’ (in fact, Marina’s car still has ‘88’ until today). My car had ‘848’ — which means fat say fat, or prosperous and still prosperous even after death (I no longer have that number, though, because I no longer own a car).
My house in Manchester sits on lot 88. Marina was born in the year of the horse and I in the year of the tiger. The Chinese Zodiac says the horse wife is very compatible to the tiger husband but that is another story and is a long story if you believe in the Chinese Zodiac. (Incidentally, Marina is a wood horse and I a metal tiger).
I am actually a midnight tiger (I was born just after midnight) and my mother-in-law told me that the midnight tiger is very fierce and will ‘eat’ its parents. Both my parents died in their mid-40s so maybe this was what she meant. Is it because I ‘ate’ them as my mother-in-law said I would? I never did ask her whether this is what she meant though.
Anyway, enough of my reminiscing about the good old days. The purpose of this piece is to reply to those Chinese who keep saying I do not understand the Chinese mind. I actually understand the Chinese mind more than you think because I had to become Chinese. And what I wrote above is only part of my ‘Chineseness’. I can actually go on for many more pages but I am sure that that is going to bore you.
Oh, and one more thing about ‘we Chinese’. We hate to lose face and if you insult me in public (such as in my Blog) and make me lose face then all hell is going to break loose and I will make you pay dearly for your insolence. So, if I reply to your insolence with tiu niamah fa hai, then please understand that that is just the Chinese in me breaking out.
