How parents can unite, where politicians divide
Dr Lee Yu Chuang, The Star
MY grandparents came to Malaysia from Guangdong province in China with the clothes on their backs, and not much else. My paternal grandmother toiled as an itinerant hawker selling lai fun (rice noodles) until she could not work anymore.
In spite of their disadvantages in life, my parents were the first in their families to complete a university education, both graduating as teachers of the Chinese language, which they imparted to generations of students. They both served faithfully in government schools until they retired.
My father and mother decided to bring us up in Penang, where we kids had a simple, happy childhood. We spent the evenings cycling around the neighbourhood with the local kids, having water-pistol fights in the backlanes at night, and kicking the ball around the playground whilst trying to avoid piles of cow pat that littered the field.
Like most first-generation immigrants everywhere, my parents were somewhat ambivalent in their feelings towards their motherland and their adopted land. For instance, when it came to badminton matches, they would vociferously support the Chinese team whenever they played on TV. But they never demanded that we shared their allegiance in sports, and in all other matters, they resolutely put their nose to the grindstone and concentrated on the business of putting food on the table. Most importantly, I never heard them belittle other races or people who were different from us.
Through his actions, I came to learn that my father was a man of principles. Once, while taking a detour through a narrow kampung road, our car hit and killed a goat which strayed into our path. Although it would be more convenient to drive off and avoid any possible confrontations, my father alighted from the car to seek the owner of the cow, to make recompense. My father may not have realised it at the time, but this lesson left a powerful impression on me precisely because it was not meant to instruct.
When it was time to start formal schooling, our neighbour suggested that putting us in an English-medium school would give us a competitive edge in life. And thus, my elder brother and I were enrolled in St Xavier’s branch school.
Novel experience
Growing up with an array of friends with names like Porramate, Ahmad Roslan, Surendra, Ronald Nieukey and Hua Ghee, I learnt not to give a hoot about somebody’s skin colour but rather, whether they were decent folks and whether we could get along. And if we dropped by each other’s houses during festivals, we would not feel any acute social discomfort. Rather, we would look forward to it with child-like anticipation of a novel experience – much like going to a candy store for the first time. I imbibed the pleasure of diversity as naturally as if it were fresh air.
After getting good results and in deference to my parents’ wishes, I continued my secondary education at Penang Free School. Although I missed my old friends, I quickly settled into my new surroundings and led a busy life with plenty of activities, especially with the Scouts.
With a never-say-die attitude, my Scouting buddies Hup, Prasert, George and I learnt that although you may need to take the tasks you perform seriously, you never need to take yourself too seriously.
I sat next to a boy named Hussain in Form Four, and apart from sharing the odd Hudson sweet in class (which I would break into two at the edge of our desk to share equally between us), we could also be found sharing the answers to our homework and scribbling all manner of nonsense in our little notebook, all while the teacher was conducting her lesson – oblivious to our shenanigans.
Oh yes, we still keep in touch, most recently for some paediatric advice, the man having been blessed with yet another baby in his ripe old age!
Form Six was memorable, probably because we had girls studying alongside us for the first time. I made many life-long friendships during that phase. When my close buddy Vijay got married later in life, I was deemed good enough to be his best man. And even though Azilah left for further studies in the US after only a few months of sixth form, we nurtured a kinship that continues between her family and mine until today.
Vicky and I got into the same medical school, and now she is my boss when it comes to child neurology.
Being a paediatrician enabled me to be of some use to friends who decided to start their own families, and allows me to remain relevant in their lives, even with the distances that divide us.
With such an assortment of friends in my formative years, I had a mild cultural shock when I entered university and found the student population rather ethnically polarised. I observed that most students preferred to stick to their comfort zones and not venture outside their cultural perimeters. Nonetheless, it was an excellent opportunity to mingle and learn.
I found that beneath the conservative dressing and orthodoxy of my Muslim course-mates, were some really sweet and gentle human beings who would be gracious and generous to a fault. Not that this should be confused with being pliant, I would hasten to point out, for people like Ghazaime and Haseenah could give as good as they got – both in humour and wisdom.
We were bonded by the common task of getting through medical school without burning out. In reflection, perhaps that is what it takes to get people together – a common goal that transcends superficial differences.
Anyway, one thing that I can be sure of: being a doctor is a good way of becoming colour-blind. All doctors and nurses can attest that after you have witnessed enough sickness and death, you cannot help but realise that this is the fate of everyone of us.
Thus, with our scripts already written out and within the time that remains for all of us, how can we justify treating a fellow human being with less than deferential dignity?
When you have seen children battered to death by their parents or molested by trusted religious elders, you awake to the truth that good and evil is present in all of us, regardless of race, religion, gender or any other term we use to divide ourselves.
In the end, we are merely mortal beings with our mortal failings. All we can hope for is the chance to redeem ourselves with acts of kindness towards a fellow human being.
Now that I have children of my own, I pray that I am also imparting the right values and outlook to them. I try to speak of good individuals and good acts, bad individuals and bad acts, and I never use stereotypes.
I want to impress upon them that kindness is the basic tenet of all true religions. I hope they never grow up to speak uncharitably of any group of people by virtue of their external differences.
Our true value
At the most basic level, my children must know that we are all humans in need of the same things. For this reason, I want my children to understand that nobody should feel that they are above the poorest, most wretched people in the street. Nor for that matter should anyone feel that they are beneath the richest, most powerful royalty on earth. All are the same; all are human beings. Only our character will reveal our true value. Neither the colour of our skin nor the depth of our wallets will compensate for any moral deficiency.
Of course, as they grow, my children will bear witness to the disparities and unfairness inherent in society and life, and I will encourage their moral outrage to right these wrongs. They would need to be courageous in dealing with those who try to bully their way through, given that the person who shouts the loudest is not necessarily right. I would want my children to have a humble understanding of the human condition, and thus act with kindness in their dealings with all around them.
As a parent, and learning from other parents and my own, it is clear that our children’s prejudices are modelled by and taught by us. If we consistently denigrate others with labels and derogatory words, it is only a matter of time before the poison seeps into our children’s hearts, and breeds a generation filled with hatred and discontent. Compounded by the politician’s tongue which is skilled but not necessarily wise, we will not only miss the forest for the trees, but in the tragic finale, set fire to our common abode – just to prove who’s right.
We must change the only thing that we truly can – ourselves, to be the light that illuminates a better path for our children. We can drop the unproductive attitudes that we grew up with, and choose instead to promote goodwill and kindness in a society where all can win and all who need help will get help, regardless of class, creed or ethnicity.
For all the politicians who have gotten it wrong, we can be parents who say: “No! You will not impose your vile prejudices onto my family, and we will not submit to leaders who do not make us stronger as a nation.”
When we accept what true power we hold in our hands – the power to enlighten our children in their perception and thinking – then we will do the right things and say the right things to our children because their future depends on the direction that we set their sails to. It all starts with us.
It is ironic that now, with the passing of the years, and having dealt with thousands of children and their families, I have come to revisit the universal truth: that young children – if left alone – get along splendidly with almost any other young children. They see others with a clear eye and an open heart.
They do not even bother to ask each other’s names, only knowing that they delight in each other’s company and that they will play to their hearts’ content in their limited time together.
Theirs is a truly inclusive brotherhood. Theirs is the wisdom of the innocent. It is the parents who hurrily grab them away, who tell them who they can and cannot play with, and who must be shunned – and thereafter, this child is forever stained with the pockmark of prejudice which is not easy to erase.
In the final analysis, it is clear that if there is one thing children can teach us, it is to strive to see with child-like clarity. For in the kingdom of the coloured, perhaps there is an advantage in being colour-blind.
