Our unifying mother tongue

By Dzof Azmi, The Star

If we are serious about moving towards a ‘Bangsa Malaysia’, then any argument about saving our national language should involve all Malaysians.

I WENT to No Black Tie in Kuala Lumpur last week for a selection of readings by local (or almost-local) writers. The most entertaining of the lot was a stand-up routine by Hishamuddin Rais.

In fact, he was the reason I was there in the first place, because I know him, and I think his skewed-yet-accurate view of the world provides food for thought. He didn’t disappoint that night.

What struck me most was when he complained about the event itself as a whole. He pointed out that only 90% of the country could understand the fine creative work on show that night – simply because it was in English.

Now, I fully appreciate the irony of writing about this in English for an English newspaper, but bear with me. I was personally embarrassed by this statement, because much of what I do is in English. I write in Malay when I write scripts for Malaysian television, but even then, discussion of these ideas degenerate into some rojak melange of the two languages (please excuse the mangling of food as well as words).

Of course, this isn’t a new debate. The newspapers have been filled with arguments about whether a pass in English should be made compulsory or what subject Science and Maths should be taught in.

I wonder if it’s clear to those involved why the argument is so passionate. It’s a little like when I got upset the day I found out my mother lost my grandfather’s chicken rendang recipe. I think she didn’t quite understand why it affected me so much. After all, she makes an adequate rendang ayam which is almost the same as the original.

However, the problem is that those pencil scribblings on that scrap of paper was one of the few links we had left with my grandfather. In a way, to lose it was to lose another part of my history.

Nostalgia is a dangerous thing. It’s very personal, and we tend to romanticise it. So when I see old school exercise books, I remember the time when we had to write within its blue lines and red margin, cram them into our bags while running for the bus, only to throw them frisbee-like across the room when the teacher was out. We don’t remember that they were shoddily made and probably given to the lowest bidder to produce. But thinking back to the good old days gives us a fuzzy feeling inside.

Language is seen as the bridge to our past and our culture. Never mind that the Malay we speak now is different from that of 50 yearsago, and different yet again from centuries before. It’s as if it doesn’t matter if what we hold on to matches what we had before, as long as we can pass the torch on to the next generation to develop a sense of continuity.

However, while I think it shouldn’t matter which language we teach our subjects in, I do wish it wasn’t a debate that was so strongly delineated by race.

We cannot deny that those who support a pro-Bahasa Melayu agenda are themselves Malay. Why should that be? Where are the other segments of Malaysian society in this debate? After all, this is our national language, and any argument that purports to be about saving that element of our national culture should involve all Malaysians. Even the Ministry of Information, Communicate and Culture talks about a “Bangsa Malaysia” in its Vision Statement. Bahasa Melayu isn’t just for the Malays.

I’m waiting for those of other races to stand up and say we should value our national language, and we should be proud to be able to communicate, converse and – yes – teach in it.

Mind you, I think we’re still better off than the Singaporeans. According to their Independence Act, they have four official languages, but Malay is the ‘‘national language’’. This is probably why their national anthem was never translated into English. However, only an estimated 10% or so of Singaporeans adopt their national language as the one used most frequently at home. Take away the Indonesian maids, and the number will probably go down even more.

Is it so difficult to imagine a real national language spoken by all its citizens? We practically almost have it already. So, we should be able to stand up and say that Bahasa is the only mother tongue that we have.

Languages such as Mandarin and Tamil are important, because they provide that vital connection to personal history. But let’s leave nostalgia in its right place, and recognise the heritage that we should own as a nation. And let’s move the debate on to much more important things concerning running a country.

Incidentally, if you ask me whether we should teach in Bahasa Malaysia or English, the answer is that it really shouldn’t matter. We should be able to do it in either language. We should be bilingual. All this talk about pro-Bahasa or pro-English is missing the point that we should be fluent in both, and that being able to learn a subject in either one of the languages will be much more efficient.

Now, if you excuse me, I have to figure out what “skewed-yet-accurate” is in Malay…

Logic is the antithesis of emotion but mathematician-turned-scriptwriter Dzof Azmi’s theory is that people need both to make of life’s vagaries and contradictions.