What the Orang Asli think of Selangor
With the impending elections, they are asking for better homes. “If they want our votes, they better help better our homes.” Tahak was once told that owners who had Astro would not be given new homes. “But the Orang Asli funding is in the millions. Why isn’t the money being channelled to help us? A few of us may have television and Astro but the reception is bad. Look at mine,” she points out, “all that drizzle on the screen. Sometimes you can’t even get telephone reception here.”
Dina Zaman, The Malaysian Insider
The Orang Asli settlement in Bukit Legong, Sungai Buloh is picturesque. In fact, the journey to the settlement is delightful, and has an old-world charm that is seen in Cameron Highlands, Fraser’s Hill and other smaller towns.
Nearby is the Sungai Buloh hospital and the former leper colony. Lining the road all the way to Tahak Sipew’s home are nurseries which are popular with urban home owners who visit during the weekends.
The road leading to Tahak’s home is rocky and muddy. Yet by the sides of it are little plots growing grass and vegetables. Tiny wooden homes dot the landscape. It is indeed a pretty sight and, surprisingly, right smack in an urban area.
Tahak and her friend Mor Ajani are good friends, despite the age gap. Tahak is the village head, and Mor is a young artist who helps her with farming, and matters pertaining to the Orang Asli. They “… hang out…” and are active in the Orang Asli circles. Tahak is gutsy and has many ideas on empowering her community.
Tahak however is scornful of politicians. As far as she is concerned, they are not effective, to put it mildly.
“The only improvement we can see happening here is actually very little. Some of our people have married people from other races. But Bukit Lanjan is more modern. Here, not much has changed,” Tahak and Mor say.
However, they are quite happy with the lack of development in Bukit Legong. As the community is still agrarian, they live off the vegetation they plant and find in the nearby jungle. “We’re lucky to have this at our disposal because to buy them cost money. Everything costs money now!” Tahak says. “Frankly, it’s better to live in a jungle, as it is healthier. Living in an urban setting… cars… the heat… people…”
The politicians they meet feign interest in their plight. “They listen, listen a bit…” Tahak frowns. She can’t even remember their names, that’s how much of an impact they have made on her.
With the impending elections, they are asking for better homes. “If they want our votes, they better help better our homes.” Tahak was once told that owners who had Astro would not be given new homes. “But the Orang Asli funding is in the millions. Why isn’t the money being channelled to help us? A few of us may have television and Astro but the reception is bad. Look at mine,” she points out, “all that drizzle on the screen. Sometimes you can’t even get telephone reception here.”
Could it be a ploy to detach them from the world? She shrugs. Right now she has to think how to sustain herself and the community. Everything is so expensive. And she’s fed up of OAs who are more successful — they belittle people like her. “Yang dia tolong, orang Melayu, bukan orang dia! (They help the Malays, but not their own people!)”
A short walk around her house reveals attempts at organic farming which were mooted by friends, who “… just disappeared. Maybe they are busy.” Tahak’s dream is to have a farm so she can sell vegetables at the market. She doesn’t want to depend on anyone, let alone a government that is only concerned with gathering votes.
Selangor and two bachelors
While the Orang Asli find ways to support their lifestyles, young, upwardly mobile professionals view the goings-on in the state keenly.
HR Dipendra and Leong Chow Pong are two young men doing well in their fields, and extremely observant and critical of what is happening in their state. Dipen, as he is popular known, is a lawyer and activist, while Chow Pong works for a natural resource company and is a committed environmentalist. The two, who were interviewed separately, have lived in Selangor all their lives, but work in Kuala Lumpur. The interview was conducted in Bangsar, simply for its convenience.
Dipendra is busy fielding off calls and texts in Chawan, a popular Malay eatery which, oddly enough, plays techno and loud pop music. He’s busy with the Bar Council activities where he chairs the Professional Standards and Development Committee, legal practice, and is ready for a relationship. “But how, the work I do doesn’t even allow me to sleep! How to have girlfriend?”
While love has been elusive, Dipendra has been occupied by the happenings in his state. He is deeply concerned about Selangor, and feels that while the current administration has done a lot for it, a lot more can be done to improve the state. He does admit that it would be unrealistic to expect miracles within the last four years Pakatan Rakyat has been in Selangor, as changes take time. “For the first two years they were looking for their footing… and some time in 2010, they seemed to have found it, but this hasn’t been easy because of the tension between federal and state,” he observes.
