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| https://www.timeout.com/kuala-lumpur/things-to-do/101-things-to-do-in-kl |
I attended the 5th year anniversary of Time Out Kuala Lumpur recently, held at one of the swishest roof top bars in the city. We were entertained by comedian Dr. Jason Leong of the Condom song fame, quirky newcomer Dzamira Dzafri and jazz/soul/reggae award-winning songstress Bihzhu. I left the evening slightly intoxicated thanks to beer blanc sponsors, Kronenberg and happy with myself. Plus, clutching my door gifts - the latest copy of Time Out KL and a strip of TOKL chocolates! Sweet!
Bedtime reading that night was its cover story on 101 things to do in KL and the inescapable Interview with Tash Aw by Emma Chong (at last check in 2020, this link is no longer available), award-winning author of 'The Harmony Silk Factory', 'Map of the Invisible World' and his third novel, 'Five Star Billionaire'. Read another interview on Tash Aw in NPR here.
In the interview, I'm struck by this one paragraph:
Do you think having chosen not to live in Malaysia has any impact on your identity as a Malaysian? There are a lot of Malaysians who would question your right to criticise, having made your home elsewhere.
Of course, and I can understand their frustration but I don’t see how not being here takes away the right. I don’t have to experience unfairness on a day to day basis in order to see the way it works. You can witness unfairness from a long way away. And I have all my family here, so I can feel it secondhand, which is often more powerful.
Sometimes I’m here for a couple of months at a time, and then stuff that is, to be frank, quite fucked up begins to seem normal. Because you have to function on a day to day level, and the only way to function is not to take on board the kind of stuff that is really, really just not normal. It’s only when you go away that you think: Actually, my country is just not normal. There’s stuff that’s really weird and should be fixed. And so that vantage point allows me to see things more clearly, and in many ways validates more strongly the need to have those things said. I don’t really understand why I shouldn’t have the right to say those things. Having said that, I do understand the frustration because the counter argument would be that I’m not here to suffer those things so why do I need to say these things?
I tossed and turned all night that night and woke the next morning, jaw clenched, still thinking of what Tash had said. We sometimes are so much shit and live with so much shit around us that it just becomes normal. It's only when you go away and view things from a distance that you can feel unfairness even stronger.
I feel so strongly about this unfairness. But I feel I can make that difference. At the time when I made a conscious choice to return to Malaysia after living in Sydney for a decade, I believed I could make a difference. I was one of the early kickstarters of a new wave of open mic and spoken word gigs, allowing freedom of expression at 'underground' events. For years this activity was just an activity that was passion-fueled with hardly any contribution to the bottom line except for a couple of Martinis for a night's work. In fact, we paid for a lot of the costs with our own time and money. And so did the musicians. Today, the entertainment scene in KL city is so vibrant. Almost every food and beverage outlet now seeks entertainers. Pub musicians, singer songwriters, original bands, cover bands, even beatboxers, stand-up comedians and spoken word performers are all in demand!
The result of a very weird, unfair country that needs fixing. A lot of fixing.
Meanwhile, I'll just get a little more tipsy and dream big dreams of hope, truth and change.
And leave you with this song, Atom Bomb by Dzamira Dzafri:
