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©The Sun (Used by permission)
by Marion D’Cruz

I teach at four colleges/universities in Kuala Lumpur. In a year, I face a total of about 700 students with the average age of 20.

In them, I see much damage that has been done by our education system – or rather, the lack of an education system – and by the systems of injustice, aggression and racial polarisation, and the politics of religion and economics, that is getting dangerously extreme.

I love teaching. I take it very seriously. While imparting know-ledge, I aim, more than anything else, to make these young people think. I aim to make them take ownership and responsibility for their lives and decisions, and for all that is around them. As a teacher, I am provocative and insane. I employ all necessary methods and more, to get them out of their slumber; out of their “There’s nothing we can do” attitude.

Despite trying year in and year out, I am losing the battle, as most of the forces around me continue to work against all I believe in. But I strive. Jihad.

I must believe in the hope of a better Malaysia as we journey towards 2057. I will not be quiet. I see good things happening in the dance department of Aswara where I teach. And no, this is not a plug for Aswara. It is merely the truth of a system that defies all, and in so doing, harkens for something great.

In the dance department, students must learn Malay classical and folk dances, ethnic dances from Sabah and Sarawak, ancient dances that are dying out, Chinese dance, Indian dance, ballet, contemporary dance, wayang kulit, makyong, bangsawan, silat, tai chi, and theory courses.

In so doing, they are given the opportunity to “consume” these forms in their bodies, their intellect and their souls. As their bodies take on these various forms, they learn about these cultures, the stories of peoples, the histories, the memories, and they begin to take ownership of these cultures to varying degrees.

Indeed, it is not just about learning many dances. It is about understanding the myriad that is Malaysia.

One day, as I left Aswara, I saw a sign of hope of what Malaysia could become. The final-year students were practising their Zapin. The group consisted of male and female dance students, Malays, Chinese and one Indian. They were all doing their Zapin with great joy and flair as the young Chinese boy from Penang led their rehearsal.

This is the Malaysia I nurture and hope for. These students have taken free ownership of this traditional form – a mixed group of young dancers filled with the joys and subtleties of a beautiful Malay dance.

And then there is my gardener Karam Singh in whom I see a sweet, gentle, honest Malaysia. He is friend to all and speaks Malay, Punjabi, Hokkien and some English.

He works harder than anyone else I know. He “owns” the neighbourhood through his hard work. He brutally speaks the truth all the time. His life is not easy. And it is painfully honest. He seems aggressive and speaks very loudly. But his eyes tear when he shares the woes of his life with me. An honest Malaysian.

These are the people who remind me of what I hope to see Malaysians becoming in the next 50 years.

When we are all dancing the Zapin and when the believer of one faith can marry the believer of another faith without oppression, and when lion dance is all the more
colourful because of the variety of skin colours dancing away, that’s when we know that multi-culturalism is not just a concept but a celebrated reality, and that we do not merely tolerate but accept, understand and embrace.

As Malaysians, we need to own what belongs to all of us.

It is when our identity is based on this holistic ownership and on justice and truth, and when we are all dancing the Zapin that, maybe, we can celebrate Malaysia in 50 years.

Marion D’Cruz is a dancer, choreographer, teacher and producer who is sad and worried at what’s happening in Malaysia but who refuses to be quiet.

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