Ten very real reasons why I hate Malaysia

Hazlan Zakaria, The Ant Daily

So many times was it broken and remade, that pieces of my heart no longer fit. A jagged jigsaw so broken up, you need a hammer just to fit them out.

Their edges tear into each other’s silence, slicing into both flesh and bone. Thankfully I’m already all too numb, no pain touches this beating heart of stone.

Every second of each day’s breadth, and every moment of each breath. So it is our beloved Malaysia I hate, and its heart-wrenching dramas of late.

Especially as a reporter with a front row seat, covering news and all matters politic. I hate this country with every breath that I take, with every little keyboard press and click.

I hate it with a passion, from the frequent disappointments. I hate it with my soul’s lament, with my every tortured living moment.

I hate its smart aleck politics, and corruptible politicians I call ticks. Those smarter-than-thous, and your-money-is-mine-nows.

They keep their houses in largess and enjoy benefits, turning everything into a crazy mess. They spend public monies like no one’s business, and offer but a mere pittance – BR1M – to the rest.

I hate the standstill traffic, the scourge of Malaysian roads. The cars that overflow the streets, when they are not inundated by the floods.

The queue jumpers, the line cutters, the slower-than-turtle drivers, and their too-fast more-furious speedsters. The potholes that never seem to go away, even after being filled just yesterday.

More so the outrider-escorted ministers, who make much ado about public transport shirkers. And the entitled, egoistic expensive brand name car owners, who seem to enjoy cutting corners.

I hate the public mind-set, their oh-so-short attention lifespan. Their need for tales and gossip, yet give issue of import no real heed.

I hate the petty things that tear us apart, the racial and religious twists that shuts neighbours out. The fools that dress themselves in clothing of righteous zeal, and self-proclaimed wise men who hunger desperately for
public appeal.

I hate the grumblings that we are ungrateful, when it is those in power who misuse our mandate. They strut about demanding respect, acting as if they are masters of our fate.

I hate the price hikes that makes us poorer still, with wages bottoming out and funds that spill. As the rich get richer, we the rakyat, instead suffer.

I hate the helplessness, being unable to see change. Being unable to hear hope, for a tomorrow that we can cope. The feeling that despite what we did or sought, we are all but doomed to naught.

I hate the haze, as much as the palm oil craze. One covering up the sun, another taking over once-lush forest land. We exploit what is God’s gift, and its rape and plunder have grown out of hand.

Lastly and perhaps most of all, I hate Malaysia for the love I bore for it. And I hate myself, that I hate it all.

I hate it that I care, because I love this land so fair. For the many values that the country has stood for, I wish that Malaysia endures forever more.

Thus I can’t bring myself to curse, this blessed land of our forefathers. For from the love that I still bear, sparks the hope of a future that all can share.

And that is why I hate it, for not allowing me to really hate it. For not allowing me to tell it to shove it, and forcing me to keep the embers of hope brightly lit.

Hazlan Zakaria is a member of Theantdaily team, who likes to read, write and observe the peculiarities of the naked world.