Return to Kota Bharu and Further Explorations in Peninsular Malaysia and Singapore

[July, 1997] In this cultural travelogue, I explore the western part of Peninsular Malaysia, make a return trip to Kota Bharu, and give an impression of Singapore. The comments here are not organized linearly in a geographical sense, but are directed to some extent by the direction I journeyed through the land: I stopped off in Singapore on the way to Indonesia, entered Malaysia at Kuala Lumpur, took a train to Kota Bharu, then to Singapore, followed by a bus to Johor Bahru, Muar, and Melaka before returning to Singapore. As always, my wife, Karen's insights and innate skills were extremely helpful.

Western Peninsular Malaysia and Singapore seem weighed down by the legacy of the British Straits Settlements. In Malaysia, political power that once rested with the British now resides almost exclusive in the dominant Malay population. The Chinese, who were a major economic force in the Straits Settlements, extended their dominance by filling in the void left with the British withdrawal. The Indian population in both countries is significant, but too small to pose a threat to the other two groups in either country. The British East India Company and the Straits Settlements helped promote these demographics though Chinese settlement in the areas predates the British arrival by centuries. Dilapidated houses from a century ago, British mail boxes, signs in a phonetic English, and highways lined with palm tree plantations live on as symbols of that Straits Settlements era. The tudung of the Malay women, the statue adorned pyramid temples of the Hindu Indians, and the businesses of the Chinese are the most easily identifiable symbols of these communities in the cities I visited. Another feature of this area that is significant to someone from outside the region is the heat. The humid heat of the area cannot but affect the lifestyle of everyone who lives in this region yet to explain how with only cursory experience would be of no value. Having been to China and seen relatively homogenous* Chinese communities throughout the world, my interest was drawn more to the Malay and, less visible Indian*+ communities so please forgive me this intentional omission.

*I use the term "homogenous" with some trepidation, fearing that I might be misunderstood. The local environs has had an affect on Chinese communities whereever they be, but I think more important is the fact that the Chinese Diaspora originates from the provinces of Fujian [Fukian] and Guangdong [Canton] of the southeastern coastal area of China and that the differences between Chinese in these two provinces, and even within Guangdong itself, may be more significant than the impact of the local environs on how these people live.

*+ I use the term Indian here as it represents the historical boundaries of India prior to independence having been achieved. 

Shocking Fashion

Singapore

A place that is labeled "very cosmopolitan" is one that has an international flavor and as such lacks a localized characteristic. You might say that major international airports are quintessentially "very cosmopolitan." Airports are unique in that the people who can be found there may be from vastly different cultures, but they are also very similar by virtue of the fact that they come from a relatively narrow segment of the economy where they reside. In most cases this would lead one to argue that the similarities between those who are patrons of international airports have more in common with each other than they do with a larger segment of the country from which they originate. This supposition has definable limits.

I was in search of food when Karen encountered a group of Muslims. It's really misleading to say couples because when Karen saw them, the men were all huddled together talking, while the women were all huddled together in a separate group several feet away. The men wore white clothing and caps. The women were all in black. It took Karen several minutes to realize that the women were not all with their backs to her because they were completely covered in black. They wore black gloves, black, loose fitting gowns and black veils. It was only after some study that we realized there was some difference in the way the individual women dressed, and then it could only be said that this difference was limited to their veils. Some of the veils had a rectangle of space cut out where their eyes were, others merely had small perforations in this area of their veil making it completely impossible for an observer to see their eyes and somewhat difficult for the woman to see where she was walking. When one of these women was preparing to step off of a people-mover to walk on a small portion before the people-mover continued on, she had to pull her veil as she looked down to avoid miss-stepping.

Kota Bharu

In the remote Northeastern corner of Peninsular Malaysia such a sight might be more expected, but it is not. Even in the relatively orthodox Muslim city of Kota Bharu, the clothing of the Malays is bright and fashion conscious. It's because of this that an appearance of more conservative Muslims stand out. Walking through the night market in KB, I saw a mother and daughter were in full purdah with their faces covered, except for their eyes, as they sat down to eat dinner with the rest of their family. By chance we sat nearby and overcome by curiosity, I decided I had to see how they ate their food covered up so. From where we sat, I could see that the mother was still feeding her child, but I could also see the daughter's hands moving to her food. When we were finished with our meal I made a detour to educate myself in the most discrete way I could think of. I'm not sure how discrete I was, but the family didn't seem to notice and all I needed was a glimpse to learn that she had removed her face veil. Her jilbab (scarf covering her head) was pulled forward extending perhaps a foot or so in front of her face to completely conceal her face - as a tent - while she ate.

Johor Bahru

Kuala Lumpur. Attitudes vary and what is typical of Muslim Malays may tend more to the following scenario. While I was walking along the waterfront to get from one side of Johor Bahru to the other, I sat and took a pause to look about me. I noticed two young couples get out of a car and approach the area near where I sat. One of the young men, I learned his name was Said, was very friendly so I ventured a question. I asked him why one of the two women was wearing a tudung and the other was not. He replied, "oh, no," and motioned with his hands and head that he didn't like the tudung. When I asked him why, suggesting that it might be too conservative, he said "yes." Said was dressed fairly "modern," was well off enough to drive a car , and didn't place his hand on his chest after shaking hands with someone as I was used to seeing in comparatively conservative Kota Bharu. He also seemed to bask in the glory, before his friends, of walking up to a Western person, and talking to him by name because he told me "goodbye Mister John" several times after he had rejoined his friends and I had begun to walk away. Although Said's preferences may be skewed towards the cosmopolitan lifestyle and affluence of the West, the tudung is only a common sight in Kota Bharu were Muslim women are required to wear it by law (though the enforcement of this law seems to fluctuate).

Its ironic that the habits of Roman Catholic nuns, which have lent them the irreverent term "penguins," is so similar to the fashion of those Muslim women in Southeast Asia who don the tudung or jilbab. A simple explanation of the Muslim desire for a woman to wear a tudung or jilbab was offered on a sign in Kota Bharu written in Arabic, Malay, and English: "And say thou unto the believing women that they shall lower their sights and guard their modesty and shall not disclose their adornment except with appeareth thereof; and they shall draw their scarves over their bosoms." Buddhists choose to remove the beauty found in a woman's hair by simply removing the hair of a devout woman, while both Christians and Muslims have chosen the tudung to conceal a woman's beauty in her hair from all, but her husband. The point being, I suppose, that men are attracted and distracted by the natural beauty of a woman unconcealed.

I remember that the Catholic nuns I had encountered in my parochial school days where invariably older and would have had no physical attraction to me whether or not they were so attired. I always thought nuns were either cloistered during their years of beauty or only homely-looking women became nuns. This explains the dissimilarity of Catholic nuns and Muslim Malay women we saw. Typically those wearing veils, or tudungs in Malaysia were either school girls or young women. To be sure the tudung and even more so the longer, more concealing jilbab act in a certain way to de-sex a woman, but the less conservative tudung, especially when worn with the colorful silk gown common to Malaysia offers a sensuousness not often found amongst women who let their hair flow, fully exposed.

Call it a fetish if you must, but I found a tudung rather attractive on young women in Malaysia (and in Indonesia as well). The tudung acts as a frame for a woman's face. The clean lines, simple style, and meticulously clean appearance of the tudung help to draw your attention to the smooth beautiful skin of a woman's face. For better and for worse, the tudung accentuates the demure side of a woman. I found myself wanting to spend weeks just capturing images of a Malay woman's face as it peered out of a tudung from different angles. It is not surprisingly refreshing to find such a beauty in this era where it can be said that a woman's soul is often revealed through her public attire, or lack of portions thereof, in the West.

Kuala Lumpur

First Impressions

Kuala Lumpur began as a tin mining town inhabited mostly by Chinese in the mid-nineteenth century. Until as late as 1830, most of the tin mining in the larger state of Selangor was performed by Malays who mined tin part-time while subsisting primarily on rice farming. At this time though, the face of tin mining in Selangor began to change. New techniques for deeper mining of tin were introduced, new areas further from Malay villages along the riversides were opened for mining, and financing of the mines fell increasingly in the hands of Chinese merchants in the Straits Settlements. By 1850, the Malay tin industry was financed by Chinese, managed by Chinese, and Chinese migrant labor was recruited by Chinese agents. Kuala Lumpur grew as a center for the tin industry in the upper Kelang Valley. Merchant groups petitioned the British to intervene to settle disorders along the West Coast of Malay and British administration, ever desirous of supporting business which improved its own coffers, followed.

Colonial Architecture, KL

Today, KL, as Kuala Lumpur is affectionately termed, is a city developed with the ambition of a newly independent nation too eager to shout out its competence. Ironically, Malaysians conspicuously betray their incompetence in the construction that lays incongruently around and above the older city that was constructed under the tutelage of the British. In my view, the beauty of KL still rests in the colonial architecture, some simple, some more grand such as the railway station, the Sultan Abdul Samad building, and the old city hall. The desire to erase colonial architecture with newer, bigger, better construction projects and its failure is no where more obvious than in the modern network of expressways, a portion of which masks the elegant, old Moorish train station. The much talked about twin towers and a structure that takes its inspiration from the Seattle Sky Needle are more examples of this over-anxious desire to prove the capabilities of Malaysians without careful consideration.

The real jewels of KL are often found off the main thoroughfares: a city block of restaurants that opens out onto the sidewalks when tables are laid out at dusk for dinner patrons who delight in some of Malaysia's finest cuisine without pomp and ceremony; the small Indian section of town; outdoor markets; a complex where pirated computer software is sold; streets where life thrives around decaying edifices; an ornate mosque; bustling crowds of students just released from the day's school session; and patrons at a group of shopping complexes who spend more of their time acting out social rituals than shopping.

KL Chinese

In some ways KL is indicative of the diffused Straits Settlements area of Western Peninsular Malaysia: Muslim Malay women, some of which were dressed in kebaya (a long silk dress) covering their bodies and sometimes a tudung (veil) covering their heads; some Chinese women who, in sharp contrast, wore short skirts or tops that fitted tightly against their breasts; and an Indian population also dressed in disparate ways, but some of whom wore traditional cloths. It is a place that is still in search of a comfortable identity: no longer a colony yet still coming to terms with a stable, confident, forward-looking future.

Kota Bharu

If you want to see what Baba (Straits Chinese) culture has evolved into, go to Melaka. Travel to Singapore to see similarities with Hong Kong. Explore the Indian enclaves of Singapore and Kuala Lumpur and the Batu Caves to see how Hindu Indian culture is practiced in Southeast Asia. If you want to see ethnic Malay Malaysia, go to Kota Bharu. Kota Bharu, which is located in the farthest northeastern tip of Malaysia near the border with Thailand, is strikingly different in this regard from Western Peninsular Malaysia. Malaysian batik, traditional fashions, Malaysian food, cultural sports and entertainment, and Malay Islamic culture can all be seen here in a more authentic and rewarding manner than in the commercial centers of Kuala Lumpur and Singapore.

The appearance of Kota Bharu had changed after less than two years. I'm not completely sure why. It may have been due in part to the different season of our two visits, Summer followed by Fall. There were lots more people, numerous men dressed in traditional attire, and more tourist development. Two sides of the night market eating area, which had earlier been streets, had since been converted to park area and walkways with covered seating areas, to provide a semblance of respite from the day's heat, and booths for vendors.

Malay cultural traditions that can be observed in larger state of Kelantan, where Kota Bharu is located, includes silat, inai, batik, wau, and gasing.   Silat is simply a Malay martial art.  Inai is not peculiar to Malaysia or the Islamic countries of Southeast Asia.  It is a cultural import from the Middle East and India.  Using a mixture with henna as its base, newly married women dye their fingernails and sometimes finger tips a bright red.  Wau, is the Malay term for kite flying taken a step beyond the variety of kite flying found in the West.  Batik from Indonesia is more well known, but Malaysian batik made through a simpler process is beautiful in its own right and the best is found in Kelantan. 

Gasing, is an amazing adult form of playing top. The gasing, or top, is about eight inches in diameter. Several feet of rope* is coiled around it and the gasing is expertly thrown onto a small, raised, densely packed, flat dirt square (* no string could ever do because it is much too heavy). Not an easy feat. As it spins rapidly around, another man quickly picks up the gasing with something resembling a wooden spatula before moving it to a short pedestal which he holds in his other hand. The top of this short pedestal has a thin rim and a circular metal surface to keep the gasing spinning longer. In competition, whoever can spin the gasing longest is the winner. Sounds easy? No way -

Tumpat

Since it was our second visit to Kota Bharu, I convinced Karen that we should rent bicycles and explore the outlying area. Our destination was a Buddhist temple near the Thai border. Although the tourist face of Kota Bharu had grown over the intervening two years since our prior visit, the changes were relative. Bicycle rentals were hard to find and we had to accept what was available to us. Karen's bicycle was too large for her, making it difficult for her to pedal comfortably while she sat in her seat, while my bicycle seat had been worn down to resemble a bar running parallel to the crack of my...seat. In addition, my bicycle, I am permitted to complain more because I'm doing the writing, was too small for me so I couldn't fully extend my legs even after the pedal was pushed as far down as it would go. I rode the bike standing up, pausing every few seconds in a coasting position. We were never really sure how far our journey was, but I was determined, and demanded of Karen that we push on through the heat and the discomfort of our ill-fitted bicycles to Wat Phothivihan.

As we left the town of Kota Bharu, we crossed the river known as Sungai Kelantan. The view was filled with contrasts. There were water buffalo walking on the shoreline or wallowing in the muddy ponds near the river just as they have for centuries while a couple of affluent Malaysians riding their jet skis in the center of the river. We rode on through the heat asking while we went if we were going in the right direction.

We rested in the shade of a simple multi-goods store in a small town called Chabang Empat where we were fortunate enough to find a small store along the way to the temple we were searching for. There we fed our bodies coolant in the form of syrupy Coca Cola and bottled water while we sat in the shade offered by the roof overhanging the store's front step.

If you've ever imagined the heat generated by the sun coming closer to earth, as the writer of a Twilight Zone episode once did, you may come close to understanding what the heat can be like in Southeast Asia. It can be oppressive. Try as you may, hide in the shade, avoid moving, the hot, damp air smothers you like an unfriendly fat boy in a grade school playground. You can either stay in a room, laying completely still beneath a fan, limit your activity to air conditioned space, or try and go about your business layered in suntan lotion (if you are as fair-skinned as myself) and a pool of sweat. For those who choose the latter option, there can be relief. I found two forms:

Mandi

Just as someone has suffered thirst in a desert, the often oppressively moist-hot air of Malaysia cries out for the soothing, comforting, refreshing waters of a mandi. There is a common, but mistaken, belief that progress is verifiable. The mandi is a perfect example that runs contrary to this belief. It is probably the most simplistic tool known to man and the uninitiated would surely argue in favor of a western-styled shower if given the choice. Let me assure you that there is no modern convenience that comes close to providing the comfort offered by bathing with a mandi after wading in the oppressive heat of Southeast Asia for a few hours. A mandi consists simply of a cubed basin, perhaps three feet high and two and a half feet square. You fill this up with water and use a ladling cup to douse water over yourself. The water is directed more easily to any part of your body and you get more water per space than a common shower permits. I could never completely articulate the pleasure this most basic form of bathing offered during the three-, sometimes four-times-a-day I had to bathe to cleanse myself of the perspiration which had all but consumed me.

Root Beer Floats

My description of Peninsular Malaysia would never be complete without a comment about root beer floats. With the exception of a mandi, there was nothing that provided so much relieve from the heat as a root beer float from a particular American restaurant chain found in nearly all the Malaysian cities I visited. It was as if a change had taken place in my dietary behavior, much as if I were a pregnant woman, because root beer floats had never before or since been so important to me.

I was dreaming about one of these root beer floats and a mandi while seated in the shade of that store at the crossroads town of Chabang Empat. Karen "ran" across the street to buy some fruit (santol in Pilipino) she saw being picked from a tree and hadn't tasted in a long time. Meanwhile, I sat with camera in hand staring at an old Malay woman who stared back with equal interest if only in a more relaxed way, having the wisdom to moderate all her actions in accord with the climate of the environment. She was beautiful. Not as a young woman with smooth, blemish-free, taught skin and firm breasts pushing against her clothes. Nor in the manner of a mother, exuding confidence in her maternity. She bore the presence of character that calls for respect. Her clothing was bright and colorful, but not so much so that it gave her the appearance of competing with the generation of her daughters or granddaughters. She looked composed, confident, fearless, and yet relaxed. She was sitting with a small cheroot in a hand that had a brass ring which held a striking red, smooth cut, stone in it. The traditional cloth that was draped on her head lay there looking haphazard yet was as firmly fixed as any tudung with its visible pins here and there. I cried out in my mind to talk to her, to learn about the experiences which combined to create this woman a few feet away from me. Such is the missed opportunities of vicarious travel.

We traveled on through the countryside passing a few boys who journeyed out from the safety of a shaded stall for harvested crops to play with their kite. Later we explored an old Buddhist temple grounds and school where young school children were reciting phrases in Thai. Everything seemed so desolate, as if everyone was hiding from the heat. My experiences began to take on the surreal. I wiped the sweat that covered my exposed face and arms. Re-applied suntan lotion to these same areas and rode a few feet before going about this necessary ritual again. At one point, I noticed that small white blisters had popped up on my the back sides of my hands.

We eventually reached the wat complex, and to add to our discomfort, were disappointed by the lack of imagination used in its design. We did delight, however, in resting in the shade to study the activity of a couple of monkeys and "their" puppies.

Wat Phothivihan

One monkey was chained as some are in Southeast Asian countries where they are trained to get coconut from the trees. There was another monkey, a different looking monkey, but I couldn't tell you the names that are attached to the different varieties. The chained monkey was a male, the free monkey was a female. The female would groom the male, and the male would become erect and then attempt to mount the female to procreate. I guess it was too hot though, because it was just a false start. There were also several puppies lounging in the shade afforded the wide branches of the tree. Both of the monkeys began grooming the puppies. They spread the hairs apart on the back of the legs, the back and the belly of these puppies. Chasing fleas...

"There, got it." Picking up the flee between its thumb and index finger, the monkey puts it into its mouth to crush it between his teeth before he swallows it. A small group of teenage boys visiting the wat decide they want to pet one of the puppies laying under the tree next to the two monkeys. The female monkey attacks one of the boys as he touches a puppy, as if the dog were her own child. The boy is scared and embarrassed by the incident, but otherwise unhurt. He was fortunate that, unlike myself, he was wearing long pants which protected him from the monkey's bites. One puppy decided he wants to go for a walk somewhere away from the tree. The male monkey stops him by holding onto the puppy's tale with his feet. It was too hot for the puppy to fight much and he relented after a short struggle.

Fortunately our journey back to Kota Bharu was blessed by rain as if we had been rewarded for our journey to a holy place.

Johor Bahru

Johor Bahru is a thoroughfare for those making the transit between Singapore and Malaysia's more interesting destinations. It's fame is derived from its proximity to Singapore. Because Johor Bahru is just a short drive across the causeway connecting the two cities separated by the Straits of Johor, Singaporeans visit Johor Bahru to rest on the weekend and take respite from the environment of strict rules that Singapore's founding father, Lee Kwan Yew, set down during his reign. An ethnic Chinese who had to learn Chinese as an adult, Lee showed his Chinese cultural rennaisance by choosing a strict Confucian style of governance. Malaysia, and especially the nearby Johor Bahru is an anathema to his tenets of governance. Even in retirement his remarks cause rifts between the two countries. We arrived in Singapore in the midst of one of these rifts. Months earlier Lee had stated that Johor Bahru was "notorious for shootings, muggings and car-jackings." What he didn't say was that the crime in Johor Bahru could be blamed as much on the Singaporeans as the locals. One of Johor Bahru's vices, for example, the prostitution that purported to be so prevalent in Johor Bahru exists to satisfy mostly Singaporean men.

For all the news that the town generates, the impression I left with after my brief visit was that Johor Bahru is a pretty unexceptional town. The highlight of my experiences had to be the Royal Abu Bakar Museum and my introduction to the Indian eateries of Malaysia. The museum is the Sultan of Johor's historic residence. Portions of it have been converted into a museum which visitors can wander through. The house was beautiful, and still maintained an aristocratic air while giving a much more livable appearance than the palaces of Europe built a couple of centuries earlier. However I wander if this can apply to the Sultan Abu Bakar of a century ago who was, afterall, a Malay living in a European style house. Two of the collections found at the museum are a kris collection and a trophy collection. The kris collection is absolutely spectacular and a must see for anyone slightly interested in the object. The trophy collection belong to one particular sultan who was an avid hunter. The objects in the collection speak for themselves: elephant feet trash cans, ashtrays, and a decanter holder; a tiger skull fitted with silver for serving a smoker's dish; and other slightly less exotic pieces.

Muslim Indian merchants, along with Arab merchants, had an obvious impact on the religion that dominates in Indonesia, the Southern Philippines and Malaysia. My greatest appreciation of the Indian people in Malaysia was through their food. Fortunately, I was eased into the relationship with Malaysian Indian food by my guidebook, though I have to say that Karen's advice to "always observe what everyone else does," helped significantly. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon. I woke up after a short nap. In search of food, I decided to explore a small Indian restaurant I came across. A couple of the Indian men who worked at the restaurant helped me order. Then one of them served me a cup of rice on a square-cut banana leave and couple of small dishes of food. The custom, in this and many Malaysian restaurants, is to eat with your right hand and to keep your left hand underneath the table (for hygienic reasons where water and a hand traditionally sufficed instead of toilet paper). Using your hand, you mix your rice and curry dishes together on the banana leaf. You signal that you have finished by folding your banana leave in half and wash your hands at a sink in the corner of the restaurant. Most of the diners at the restaurant ate simply roti (bread) and curry. After this experience in Johor Bahru, I developed a routine of searching for an Indian restaurant for breakfast where I would eat roti and curry (the red curry was my absolute favorite) and drink tea the local way, with sweet condensed milk.

Travel is invariably cheaper in Southeast Asian than in Europe, the U.S., or even Northeast Asia. If you have a good guidebook or just ask around, you can usually determine what your options are and they often vary tremendously. Take the journey from Johor Bahru north to a small town in the direction of Melaka, called Muar. A taxi would have cost RM150 for a foreigner, RM100 for Malaysians, or less if you shared the taxi with others. A taxi to the bus depot in the northern end of town costs RM5, but a bus costs 90sen (there are 100 sen in RM1). Now a bus ride from this depot to Muar costs RM10.

The road from Johor Bahru to Muar was filled with endless plantations. You could tell that the palm tree groves which lined the road were not wild because the trees were planted in rows. The experience of driving through these groves was strange because you instantly realize that these endless miles of tall palm trees are no different than the rows of corn you might see in the Midwest or orange trees in Southern California, only the palm trees are much larger.

Muar

After I arrived in Muar, I decided on staying at a hotel at the outskirts of town. I hired a taxi. The driver delivered me and my bags then drove off. A man brimming over with self-confidence was standing a few feet back from the guest-side of the reception desk appearing to watch over things. A woman behind the desk greeted me with "Yes, how may I help you, sir?" While I was responding to her, she looked past me and then said, "I'm sorry sir, we have no more rooms available." I was suspicious of her answer because the hotel was not bustling with activity - nor was the town - and she seemed to be looking past me all the while at her "employer." I knew my taxi had left and dreaded the long walk in the scorching heat carrying my bags in search of another hotel. I could only speculate while I was denied a room, but could not arrive at a fair conclusion.

This hotel happened to be near a golf course and they were both just feet from the ocean beach. There were small drainage ditches alongside the road that extended all the way into the center of the city which seemed to be at least a couple of miles away. No one was on the golf course during this hottest time of day and only a few grounds keepers could be seen as I looked around. Suddenly, I heard a noise and looked to see a monitor lizard run away. It was huge. The length of this reptile must have been at least four feet from head to tail. I searched him out but couldn't find him. I think he slipped into the narrow ditch which was half filled with ocean water at the time. All I could see in the ditches were beautiful, bright orange dragonflies. Still angry at the fact that I was denied a room, I tried to console myself with the glee at having seen a monitor lizard for the first time and decided I would search these reptiles out another time.

With the help of strangers I passed after entering the outskirts of the town proper, I found a hotel. My embarrassment from being soaked with perspiration while I inquired about the room was only ameliorated a bit by the fact that a young, plump man behind the desk had his fingernails dyed with inai. I had seen it on several women after I had first learned about the practice of newly wedded women dying their finger tips or finger nails with inai (a mixture which includes henna) in Khota Bharu, but this was the first man I has seen with his fingernails dyed red. When I asked the woman he was working with about this, she laughed and the man became slightly embarrassed.

Sleep that first night in Muar was difficult. The ceiling fan did little to cool the air. At 3:00 in the morning, I heard someone talking as loud as they possibly could without actually yelling. I could not hear what the man was saying, but thought he was at the reception desk about twenty feet away from the door of my room and I immediately suspected he was Chinese (suspicion based on personal experience in any event). I finally decided to ask this person to lower his voice. I got out of bed, opened the door and walked over to the reception desk. There was no one there. Following the sound of this human megaphone, my eyes looked down the stairs to a phone which hung from the wall on the first floor where a black man was talking on the phone. I was embarrassed at the thoughts I had up to then and watched unobserved as this man ended his loud international phone call. Its simple things like a good night's sleep that you sometimes forego when you save a few dollars by staying in inexpensive hotels and guesthouses.

The place where Muar now sits was two small villages as recently as 1887. Abu Bakar, the Sultan of Johore established the town of Bandar Maharani, (the official name of Muar). It became populated by Malays dislocated through famine, strife and a myriad other reasons, Javanese, Bugis, Indians, Chinese migrant labor to work on pepper and gambir plantations, and Chinese merchants from Singapore and Johor Bharu. When I visited Muar, it seemed to represent the character of the places I visited on the coast of Peninsular Malaysia: Indian policemen; Malay children dressed in uniforms which include a tudung for the girls and a kopiah (Muslim cap) for the boys; ethnic Chinese and Malay run shops. The walkways in front of shops are covered with businesses and residences. Sometimes these covered archways begin with arched openings at a corner of a street. Some have vertical Chinese writing on them. There was an colorful Hindu Indian temple located on the edge of town and the Malay residences seemed to predominate outside of the business center of town.

Wandering through the streets, I came across the opening of a shop where a couple of ethnic Chinese men were crafting wood. Their shop looked as if it had been operating for more than a century. The hand tools which hung on the wall near the front of the store added to the rustic look. I motioned to one of the craftsmen in asking for permission to take a picture and he approached me smiling. He told me that they were constructing caskets for Chinese in Malaysia and Singapore whose culture derived from a certain region in Guangdong (Canton) province. They crafted the caskets out of solid hardwood with the hand tools I had first noticed. The opposite ends of the length of the casket are shaped into large, stylized flowers. It takes them about ten, eight-hour days to construct one casket out of a solid tree for which they were paid about RM1000 ($400 at the time).

Later in the day, I returned to the golf course area outside of the town where I had seen a monitor lizard I had since learned was called a biawak. The area was transformed. The ditches were all but dry leaving behind mud, crabs, fewer dragonflies than I had previously seen and no trace of the biawak. It was as if the land had changed hands in a few short hours. There were people everywhere: on the golf course, jogging on the sidewalks, couples sitting along the boardwalk, families gathered around a picnic table, children playing on a swing set.

Biawak I was as determined as an amateur zoologist to see the biawak again. Early one morning, I set out by foot. Walking through the neighborhoods that extended along the way, a women riding a bicycle in my direction with a live rooster in her hand, school children riding their bicycles to school and a few mangy dogs that suffer the heat worse than I do in Southeast Asia. Suddenly I saw a monkey cross the street some fifty feet before me. Another one followed then more until over a dozen had crossed the street. I excitedly followed them until I reached the fence of the home that they had run to. These monkeys played about on the roof of a home there and on branches of the trees in the yard. Just after I arrived, they responded to my presence by scurrying away into a heavy brush-concealed stream that ran along the edge of the property.

This time when I reached the golf course, I was not to be disappointed. I saw a biawak in the grass beside the walkway and walked closer to take a picture. He ran across the street and down into the canal where he swam away. I spotted another biawak next to the canal and he ran from me as I got closer as well. Then I saw a third biawak much smaller than the others I had seen and he ran up a tree as I got closer. He had no where to go as I got closer, but moved around the tree to hide from view as best he could.

Melaka

Malacca became great because it was imbued with favorable natural conditions to make it a great port and because a wandering prince from Sumatra had the ambition to negotiate its success. Parameswara was a prince from Palembang when forced to escape to Singapore before the forces of the declining Javanese Majapahit kingdom destroyed his domain. Parameswara had arrogantly claimed his independence from the Majapahit. He went first to Singapore where he was welcomed, but he left several days later after killing the ruler who had welcomed him. Fearing a repraisal from the Sukothai (perhaps Thailand's most powerful dynasty), he escaped to a port along the western coast of Malaysian Peninsula where Muar now rests. He lived here for six years before his ambition drove him further north to establish a settlement at Malacca around 1400.

Whereas much of Parameswara's path to Malacca was charted by aggression and flight, the growth of Malacca was based on his ability to negotiate relationships that would make the port a conduit for trade from China to India and places between. He negotiated for China's trade and protection from the threat posed by the Sukothai kingdom with the great Chinese admiral, Cheng Ho. In marrying a Muslim princess from across the Straits of Malacca in Pasai on Sumatra, he tacitly brokered business from Muslim traders in Southeast Asia. Finally, he increased trade links with India, especially Gujerat. 

The Colonial era of Malacca began when D'Albuquerque led the Portuguese in a successfully attack on Malacca. The port's long, preciptous decline began at this time too. In 1641 the Dutch would take Malacca from the Portuguese. The British quietly took control of Malacca in 1824. What remains of the historical colonial architecture of Malacca dates from the Dutch period with some modifications made under the British.

There is something annoying about a town, city, or country which has lost its importance and monuments to that importance, but not its historical renown. Melaka, as it is now known, is still a quaint city, but it had lost its commercial vitality centuries ago. Today its importance lies primarily with its center as a port for lumber from Indonesia* and as a tourist attraction where architectural reminders of the Dutch colonial period can still be seen (* a sailor aboard one vessel yelled a "hello misterrrr" in distinctive Javanese style). The European colonial period is probably what draws most tourists to modern Melaka. A close second my be the interest generating around the historical presence of ethnic Chinese dating back to the marriage of the Sultan of Malacca to a Chinese Princess several centuries ago. Where else in Southeast Asia can you see a Daoist Temple that is more than 200 years old?

Language

Traveling through Malaysia, my attention was drawn to the fact that there were so many ethnic Chinese Malaysians and that they seemed to dominate the life of the larger towns and cities. Still, while you might see Chinese characters on walls, signs, and columns associated with specific businesses, Chinese has been kept separate from the country's wider culture as if it were oil in a pool of water.

It's probably my frustration over the limits of permeating the surface of a foreign country without comprehending the local language that makes me so fascinated with languages and the peculiarities I can discern without being able to communicate more than a simple idea with the locals. Acknowledging my shortcomings first, I would like to share the most obvious of what I did learn about the language spoken in Malaysia, Bahasa Melayu. At the most basic level, adjectives follow nouns and the plural form of a word is often one word repeated. Bahasa Melayu has been perceptibly influenced by historic trade relations, the colonial experience, and the post- colonial experience.

Arabic & Sanskrit

Bahasa Melayu shares some 60,000 words with Bahasa Indonesia. The government of Indonesia classifies Malay as a foreign language. They both share terms from the historical influence of Indian and Arab merchants. The term "Bahasa" is Sanskrit for "language." Both Bahasa Indonesia and Bahasa Melayu share terms like kuliah agama, translated as a sermon, which have origins in Indonesia (kuliah) and Sanskrit (agama). The shared historical influence of Islam brought by Arabs centuries ago has liberally peppered Malay and Indonesian with Arabic terms such as inai (henna, but also used to refer to the practice of newly married couples dying their hands and feet with henna), khutbah (another term for a sermon), and Jumaat (Friday). Arabic has also influenced the names of Malay people. Salim Bin Ya is Arabic for "Salim the son of Ya" while "David A/L Muthu" and "Maziah BT Ya" are linguistically Malay variants of the same having the literal meaning of "David anak (child) lelaki (male) of Muthu" and "Maziah binti (daughter) of Ya." This is as close as you may get to a surname in Muslim Malaysia. Neither David nor Maziah are expected to change any part of their respective names after they marry.

Portuguese & English

The differences in the way Indonesian and Malaysian are spoken have more recent origins in Western Colonialial era of the Malay Peninsula and islands that now comprise the two states. Kebaya (traditional attire for Malay women) is a term shared by both which was adopted from Portuguese. Dutch words and ways of spelling Indonesian place names distinguish Indonesian from the English colonial past of what is now Malaysia. In Indonesia, we learned that it is fashionable to ask for bottled water by the dominant brand name "Aqua." In Malaysia, the term for bottled water is "mineral." Malaysians have done a phenomenal job of simplifying the spelling of English words: ekspres bas (expres bus), mini foto servis, bas sekolah (school bus), telefon (telephone), fonkads, kompleks (complex), ais krim (ice cream), kolej (college), and taksi (taxi).

English

At least two English words have their etymological source in colonial Malaya. "Amok" comes from the Malay amuk: to go beserk, run amuck; or to rage violently. Boogeyman originates from the Bugis of Celebes (Sulawesi) whose fierce fighting ability against both the British and Malays in the Straits Settlements had an obviously strong influence on those who returned to the West.

Modern Bahasa Melayu

Surprisingly, modern Malaysians still have difficulty with spelling some Malay words. Baru is the modern spelling of "new", but the traditional city in the north of Peninsular Malaysia, known as "New City" is spelled "Kota Bharu"; the spelling of the city known as "New Mountain" which is adjacent to Singapore is "Johor Bahru"; and a third city's name is spelled Wakaf Baharu (Wakaf Baharu cannot be translated neatly into English, but has the general meaning of a new place that has been donated for religious or community use). <

The absence of Chinese linguistic influence upon Bahasa Melayu reveals something of the historic enmity directed to this one particular foreign group.

Baba

Kuala Lumpur. 25 year-old Nor'aishah Bokhari claims that her brother and father along with three unidentified men abducted and took her to an aunt's house in Johor. Once there, her family made her listen to sermons by Islamic teachers everyday and forced her to undergo rituals by witch doctors. Why did they do this? Nor'aishah renounced Islam so that she could marry her Chinese Christian boyfriend. Two policemen are purported to have physically detained Nor'aishah's boyfriend during her kidnapping. Commenting about Nor'aishah's decision to convert to Christianity, an official of the ruling United Malays National Organization in charge of religious issues said, "This issue is serious because it involves the dignity of Islam." A minister in the Prime Minister's Department was reported to have said, "If a woman desires to marry a non-Muslim, she should urge the man to embrace Islam, and not vice-versa."

Nor'aishah escaped and she and her boyfriend went into hiding. In a 20-page complaint filed with the High Court, she stated, "I love my family very much but how can I continue loving them after what they have done to me and my boyfriend...they are hunting us like deer."

Meanwhile, Nor'ashah Bokhari's family has filed kidnapping charges against her boyfriend.
[South China Morning Post, January 27, 1998]

Chinese influence in Northeast Asia and Vietnam has been significant. In Southeast Asia, India's influence has far outpaced that other behemoth in historical terms. More recently, Chinese migrants to Southeast Asia have wielded tremendous influence even if that influence has been mostly confined to the economic sphere. Whereas India's influence can be seen in the cultures of nations like Burma, Thailand, Indonesia and Malaysia, Chinese influence has not significantly permeated this area of Nanyang (lands that are reached from the ocean which extends from South China). Western scholars of racism and ethnic prejudice argue that the extent to which a migrant group becomes assimilated by the host group is directly proportional to the host group's willingness to permit assimilation. The supposition is that assimilation is necessary, in historical terms at least, for people to peacefully coexist within one nation's boundaries. Maybe a century from now we can fairly evaluate this supposition.

Just as there have been those that lay the blame of ethnic conflict on the host nations, there are those that have worshipped the economic success of the huaqiao, or overseas Chinese, throughout Southeast. It's as if these Chinese migrants are both wandering victims and brilliant economists. No one ever seems to make the connection. Emigrant communities are known to be better than the bottom of the barrel of any society for they would never have the wherewithal to escape the oppression of their home. As emigrants, their focus and determination to survive, if not prosper economically should be naturally understood as well. A third feature of economic success of ghettoized sub-societies is just this. Social rules which constrain anti-social behavior in one group creates an opportunity for the outside group which necessarily has an alternative set of rules that are necessary for survival. In other words, I am free to exploit the economic opportunities that the host society has sanctions against principally because I am not one of them. Who can say what came first in driving the wedge between ethnic Chinese immigrants and their host societies throughout Southeast Asia: religion, diet, fashions, customs, or business practices. Today the Chinese like a shop owner I spoke with in Melaka, who told me that the Malays have more children than they could afford, blame the Malays for frivolous habits or laziness. Comparatively disadvantaged Malays, on the other hand, often criticize ethnic Chinese claiming they have unscrupulous business practices. This wedge that exists between these two ethnic groups sometimes proves fatal to Chinese communities in periodic bloodletting. We forget that the average huaqiao is not rich, though they may be slightly better off economically than the ethnic Malay. The bloodletting only exacerbates problems causing the ethnic Chinese to loose any trust they may have built up in the Malays. The political playing field is never leveled - it always remains in the hands of the host ethnic groups even when it includes truly assimilated Chinese as in Thailand and the Philippines.

Its with this framework such as I see it, right or wrong, that I look at the ethnic Chinese of Malaysia and Singapore and share the subsequent scattered experiences:

A Malay man wearing a kopiah approached us at the train station near Kota Bharu to ask us if we would hire him to take us there. He wasn't a professional taxi driver, merely an elderly man who owned a car, could speak some English, and knew how to hustle a buck out of you. After negotiating a price, we took his offer. In short time, we arrived in Kota Bharu and declined to stay at the first hotel he showed us. Karen suggested to him the name of a hotel that we had stayed at before, but he advised us against it because "it's dirty." This made me suspicious because the hotel he showed us, was if anything less clean than the one Karen had mentioned. When I asked the receptionist at the hotel that he took us to instead, I was told that it was owned by Malays. In all fairness, we didn't check the other two hotels he drove us to see who owned them, and we have learned from experience that Malay staff (when we did see the staff, they were Malay) often work for Chinese owned businesses.

Imagine now the contrast between the relatively conservative dress of the ethnic Malay women, only some of whom wear tudung, but most of whom wear the long baju melayu, in contrast to young ethnic Chinese women who can often be seen wearing very short skirts and tight-fitting tops as they walk in public areas.

I met a friendly group of Malay teenaged boys in one of Singapore's ubiquitous shopping areas and asked them about this contrast in fashions between the two largest ethnic groups in the region. In advance, I realized that any of their responses would be suspect because the comments of teens toward a stranger in this setting might be subject to social braggadocio. Pointing out examples of how some Chinese women in the area dressed, I asked them what they thought. They said it was "good." Then I asked them if it would be okay if their sisters dressed this way and the most outspoken ventured a "Yes, but the short should not be too short." I suggested that women in America, might get into trouble if they dressed the same way during daytime (often accompanied only by girlfriends). I even went as far to suggest that in America, people might suspect that they were prostitutes (in retrospect, I think I was shocked by the contrast and used hyperbole). They assured me that these women were certainly not and asked if rape was a common problem in the U.S. When I asked if they felt they were more likely to marry a woman who wore a tudung or a Chinese woman dressed in such a way, the answer was quick and unequivocal: "one with a tudung." So I asked, "Why?" "Because of religion," they told me.

Cultural Contrasts

Baba, or Straits Chinese, is a waning designation for those Chinese and their descendants who immigrated to the Straits Settlements of Malaysia (Penang, Melaka, and Singapore) or their environs and adopted some of the Malay ways of speaking, dress, and customs. These Chinese are distinguished from more recent immigrants, known before the Baba society began to dissipate, as Totoks. Baba who held more steadfastly to Chinese customs, dress, and most importantly, language. The Baba Chinese never really assimilated so it is difficult to say if that which divides the ethnic Chinese from the Malays has changed. The divide is palpable and leads one to suspect how long it will be before another blood letting.

One day in Kuala Lumpur, I surmised a small group of men sitting at the adjoining table drinking teh susu (tea with sweetened condensed milk) were having a business meeting. Three of the young men were ethnic Chinese and a fourth was ethnic Malay. The patois of this group of men included some English words and specifically the word "taxes" which accorded my suspicious mind the reason for the presence of the one Bumiputera (a legalized term for ethnic Malays though technically it refers to the natives of the soil). This Malay man, it seemed, was clearly the odd man out. He didn't look particularly uncomfortable, but this in itself revealed the spurious nature of this small informal meeting. The three ethnic Chinese men never looked at each other in a way that revealed a separate connection between any two of them or all three of them, but they all looked equally uneasy when the Malay man would laugh good-humoredly about something he himself would say. It was an obvious mismatch of personalities, but something beyond that as well. Despite the presumed effort to build a "relationship" such as the Chinese Indonesian man I had spoken to, this Malay man was obviously out of sync with his ethnic Chinese counterparts and yet his comrades made no hint at according him any privileged status. Only putting up with him, in as much as their personalities were mismatched, out of some unspoken necessity.

Can one's ability at commerce be derived from cultural upbringing? It sounds preposterous, but do consider this not uncommon approach that I was confronted with when I shopped in some Baba owned stores in Melaka: "Do come in, it's much too hot out there." After purchasing a water at the front of another shop, "Have a seat." The caretaker of the store points the electric fan in my direction. After walking briefly into a third store, I begin to exit and the proprietor hands me a cup of tea.

Durian

I don't think I have ever seen the fondness expressed for a fruit that seemed to have possessed people in Malaysia and Singapore while I traveled through these two places. Large trucks brought this precious spiky-skinned fruit called durian, to the edges of cities where small vans and cars took over. In Melaka, I noticed the fruit was being sold from a car's trunk to several customers. One man, who was missing much of his hand due to some unknown incident, was hurriedly devouring the sticky fruit from this stump as if in a trance that beckoned him with the promise to magically sprout a new hand. In Singapore, several adult Chinese men stood at a corner eagerly licking their fingers like young boys, savoring each taste of this amazing fruit.

There is more to the intrigue of durian though. Durian is something akin to garlic only more so. Many people like garlic, but are afraid that the lingering scent of it on their breath may offend others. Try to imagine a fruit in a country with an enormous variety of delicious fruit that is prized far above the others and yet has an equally important smell that accompanies it. Durian smells rotten. I tried to ask someone why everyone who purchases the fruit always places it up to their nose before doing so. You can smell the fruit from ten or more feet away! I didn't get an  answer to my question, just an agreement that it smelled and that it had a taste from heaven. The proprietors of a hotel we stayed at felt it necessary to wage combat with this popular fruit by permanently affixing a sign in the simple international language of a pictogram. It was a picture of several durian with a large red "X" over them so that no one would bring one to their room.

What does durian taste like to the uninitiated? I had to try it. It's difficult getting past the smell, but the fact that the fruit's odor often permeated the air in the streets which I walked helped. The flavor does not grab you at first the way an Indian mango will, but there was something unique and wonderful about its flavor. Another few pieces and I might have been durian's next victim.

Singapura

At the outset, I explained that my interest in Malaysia did not grow from the Chinese population there that wields tremendous economic power, but rather from the Malay population. I had little interest in exploring Chinese culture in the peninsula and Singapore was, but an afterthought. My bias as such led me to be dismissive of Singapore where most others would view Singapore as the most important city I to cover here. You cannot be dismissive of Singapore however. It is an important city historically and economically. It is amazing when, in the midst of the 20th Century megapolis, to think that Singapore was nearly barren less than two centuries ago. Also of interest to me were the similarities and contrasts of this island, nation-state with another former island, nation-state having a similar history, Hong Kong.

The existence of Singapore, Malaysia, Brunei, Indonesia and even the Philippines as different states is precarious and it is just as likely that boundaries dependent of shared cultural values rather than colonial experience may reshape the region in the next century. Western powers vied for control of key areas in the region to exploit the resources found there through the mercantile system. The presence of the colonial powers: Spain, Portugal, Holland, and Great Britain rested on trade from the area. Spain had a trade route linking China, Manila, and Mexico. The Portuguese were the first European power to exploit the port of Malacca. The Dutch took control of this port before shifting their focus to what is now Jakarta on the island of Java. The British opened the first port of what would become the Straits Settlements of Peninsular Malaysia at Penang in 1786. Sir Stamford Raffles enthusiastically took over the colonial administration of control of Dutch possesions on Java during the Napoleonic Wars on behalf of the British. After Napoleon's final defeat the Dutch resumed control of Java and the important port at Batavia (modern Jakarta), eventually relinquishing control of Malacca to the British, and Sir Stamford Raffles negotiated for the rights to land on the island of Singapura to establish a new trading post. This trading post's success soon eclipsed that of the other colonial ports of Southeast Asia including the Straits Settlements at Penang and Malacca. The population of Singapura was infintesimal until the trading post was established, and its growth is now legendary. The predominance of ethnic Chinese on the island is a direct result of the laissez-faire trade administration of the British. Not surprisingly, modern Singapore bears a striking similarity to Hong Kong, another important "trading post" established by the British in the 19th Century.

In the initial time period known as the "Post-Mao" years in China when that country began to open up to the rest of the world, a debate developed over who was more Chinese. Those who stayed in China during the height of communism and the Cultural Revolution or those who fervently held on to traditional Chinese culture in distant lands such as Nanyang (Southeast Asia). Some argued that those who left China were more committed to traditional Chinese culture if for no other reason than their longing for the homeland necessitated it. Which of the former English colonial islands was more Chinese, Hong Kong or Singapore? Politically at least, Singapore under Lee Kwan Yew was more Chinese than British administered Hong Kong. Lee Kwan Yew, a British trained technocrat was surprisingly Confucian in the way that he ruled.

Both Singapore and Hong Kong have predominately Chinese populations with a smaller population of people from another British colonial possessian, India. As the Chinese population on these two islands grew increasingly affluent, they began to employ sizable numbers of Filipinos for domestic services. There are also sizeable populations of European and American expatriates. The most modern areas of both cities are studded with worldclass shopping centers and fine eateries. The much more restrained city of Singapore is cleaner and duller than its counterpart. Hong Kong has the uncontrollable flotsam and jetsam of a densely crowded Chinese city or one of the world's Chinatowns. Singapore's Arab section and Little India are very interesting, culturally distinct districts the likes of which cannot be found in this regard in Hong Kong. Hong Kong Island's skyline is world class, Singapore's is wholly unspectacular. There is something in the dress of Singaporeans that is far better than that of their counterparts in Hong Kong. Even the way the Singapore women who choose to dress risqué do so better than their distant cousins in Hong Kong. Singaporeans are more civil and less rude than the masters of offense in Hong Kong, but this cannot be attributed entirely to restrictions on special behaviors put in place by the once supreme Mandarin, Lee Kuan Yew. Which is better? They're both large areas with the vast majority of the people crammed into small areas where industry, retail and other businesses are also centered. Sure these two cities are much more complex than this, but to a vicarious visitor, much of the rest is extraneous detail more accessible and enjoyable in other areas.