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©New Sunday Times (Used by permission)
by Kalimullah Hassan

THIS is a sad cartoon.

Those who grew up on Lat's cartoons can see the tragedy in this portrayal of Malaysians seeking asylum under the flag from the divisive lexis.

Tragedy, because Datuk Mohd Nor Khalid, or Lat, has, for the last 35 years, always been the idealistic Malaysian, and his cartoons have always portrayed the Malaysia he grew up in and the Malaysia we dream of.

I have always been enamoured of Lat's cartoons because they are colour-blind.

True, it was not all glorious sunshine in our country; we did live through the madness of May 13 when Malaysians killed Malaysians.

But save for that stint of insanity in our history, we have largely had good years.

I want to remember the good things we had, the good friends we had, and much as I am beginning to dislike using this phrase, "from all races".

The childhood I had in my hometown Kroh (Pengkalan Hulu now) and Penang, was similar to that of Lat in Perak.

I had friends from every race, I think, except in those days, we normally thought of each other as just friends, not as members of different racial groups.

Today, most of us still keep in touch and though we do not meet as regularly, we are still friends. You see that in Lat's cartoons over the last three decades as he rolls out his own life story.

Where did we take that wrong turn in nationhood that we ended seeking refuge under the flag?

I was in Australia last week and my two children, who study there, broke fast at a Thai restaurant, with my son's girlfriend, Mel, and another one of their friends, MJ, who is staying with them.

My mobile phone kept beeping and I received several emails on my Blackberry. As I read them, I started getting agitated and placed a few calls to Kuala Lumpur.

My daughter caught snatches of the conversation and asked whether there was a problem back home. I try to keep such things away from the children but am learning to accept that they are grown up and know what's going on.

So I told them about the racial tensions, about the politicians up in arms, at each other's throat, and the stupid, idiotic and dangerous things that had been said.

My son was upset and said: "What's wrong with them, Pa? Are they crazy?"

My daughter felt they were dangerous and should be locked up.

MJ said: "Why are they like that, Uncle? We all muhibbah here in Melbourne..."

Mel just could not understand why people say what they say about each other.

MJ and my daughter said they would go back to Malaysia and change things through politics. And that's when I told them: "No."

It is politicians who sparked off May 13 and it is politicians who have been central, almost all the time, in raising religious and racial tensions over the last four decades since May 13. Some of the May 13 culprits are still around.

I am beginning to believe you cannot change politicians because politics changes even the best among them. The Tunku Abdul Rahmans and the Tun Ismails are rare in modern Malaysia and few and far between.

Politics, I told them, was now a miserable and not honourable trade because our politicians from either side of the divide seem to care more about power than the people and country they took an oath to serve.

Maybe I am just dispirited because of what politics has done to the country, especially since the March 8 general election. Maybe I am disillusioned that there are too few good men and too many megalomaniacs out there.

Who ever heard of those who lost an election trying to grab power? Yet, nary is a voice from civil society raised over attempts to thwart the will of the people by buying over elected representatives with promises of position and money to topple a legitimately elected government.

If these people whom we gave our trust to can be bought and sold like goods over the counter, what will stop them from selling our country?

Well-known Canadian-born feminist Shulamith Firestone said: "Power, however it has evolved, whatever its origins, will not be given up without a struggle."

That is why I fear for my country. I wonder whether those who want to grab power realise that those who have been in power will not allow it to be taken away through illegitimate means.

They won't give it up without a struggle. Without a fight. And when people get desperate, they do desperate and dangerous things.

Desperate politicians in Malaysia -- from both sides -- have the tendency to resort to using race and religion to shore up themselves. It has happened before and it happened again over the last few weeks.

I listened to the children for the rest of the dinner and marvelled at their innocence, at their inability to grasp why people should look at each other and evaluate each other by race, religion or colour.

Inside, like Lat must have felt when he drew the cartoon, I felt a great sadness because I knew that one day soon enough, they would finish their education, come home to Malaysia.

And if things had not changed, and it's unlikely they would have, they, too, would eventually get a little influenced, become a little prejudiced and lose a little of their innocence.

Both Mel and MJ are Chinese, one from Taiping and the other from Batu Pahat. Mel sometimes sleeps over with my daughter and another flat-mate, Suraya, a sweet girl who carries the yasin (prayer book) in her bag.

Together with my children, MJ, Mel and Suraya wake up for sahur at dawn, and when possible, they break fast together.

They will find it a little disconcerting to be referred to as Chinese, Pathans and Malays because until now, they just find comfort in hanging out together because in their mind, they are just Malaysians in a foreign land.

They are children. They will learn the hard way.

Maybe I have become too cynical. I often wonder what people would say if I were to ask them "what race are you?"

Take my nephew, Johan, for example. My brother is a Pathan, his wife is Chinese. Johan looks every bit a Chinese. What colour is he and what race does he belong to?

Take our prime minister. On his mother's side he has Chinese blood. On his father's side, he has Arab and Malay blood. What is he?

His late wife, Datin Seri Endon Mahmood, was born to a Malay father and a Japanese mother. So what race are his children Nori and Kamal, both of whom are often mistaken as Chinese? What colour are they?

My wife is of Malay, Gujarati and Sinhalese descent. What race are our children? And what race would their children be if they marry a Chinese, Kadazan or Iban?

My friend Mervin is a Malayalee from Kuala Lumpur. He married a Kadazan from Sabah. They live in Hong Kong.

Their daughter, Natasha, married Reza, a Shia Muslim, originally from Iran, born in Pakistan and who moved to London. Both are working in Singapore now. What race is Natasha and what race would her's and Reza's children be?

I could go on, Lat. I really could go on about Ayub, the Indian Muslim, and Alya Chew, his Chinese wife, about Bashir Ahmad and his Caucasian wife, about my long-time friend Maniam @ Wong Joon San s/o Alagan, a Bahai from Muar, who married his Chinese sweetheart Jenny, and who are staying in Hong Kong now.

They are all Malaysians. What race are they? What colour are they?

Our first prime minister was part Thai; the second Bugis; the third part Turkish, the fourth of Indian descent and the fifth a mixture of Chinese, Malay and Arab.

And if we are all migrants, who is the Malaysian?

I don't think the racists, the bigots and the majority of the politicians will learn.

Martin Luther King Jr had a dream. He said:

"I look forward confidently to the day when all who work for a living will be one with no thought to their separateness as Negroes, Jews, Italians or any other distinctions.

"This will be the day when we bring into full realisation the American dream -- a dream yet unfulfilled;

"A dream of equality of opportunity, of privilege and property widely distributed; a dream of a land where men will not take necessities from the many to give luxuries to the few;

"A dream of a land where men will not argue that the colour of a man's skin determines the content of his character;

"A dream of a nation where all our gifts and resources are held not for ourselves alone, but as instruments of service for the rest of humanity;

"The dream of a country where every man will respect the dignity and worth of the human personality."

America has changed enough to be able to accept that a black may one day be its president but still, in many parts of the country, racial and religious prejudices are thick. But America has had nationhood for more than 230 years.

Many of us have a dream too. But 230 years is too long a time...

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