The Malaysian Insider

SEPT 20 — I am in Brisbane, Australia as I write this [1] having rather nervously travelled to this country/island/continent on the 8th anniversary of the 9/11 tragedy. Flying nine long hours on economy class was not pleasant for my bottom, but apart from that, I have nothing to complain about.

In fact, I wish to boast that things are going terribly well so far in the land where the weather is most agreeable and people speak with an impenetrable accent.

While I do miss home, it feels great to be away from the endless, over-priced Ramadhan buffets. I am looking forward to spend another week as a slob and get fat so that people can comment on how much weight I have gained despite the month of Ramadhan. It will be a perfect excuse for me to ram a donut down their throats for being uselessly rude.[2]

I arrived just in time for the Riverfire, a pyrotechnic and musical extravaganza that heralds the beginning of Brisbane Festival.[3] A much loved family event, the Riverfire on Sept 12th also marks the start of a 22-day drinking marathon designed to ensure that everyone’s liver explodes faster than they can say “fair dinkum.”[4]

To be perfectly honest, watching firework displays is not really my bag, because they are generally overrated and a bit of a, well, damp squib. In Malaysia at least, they are more boring than Parliamentary sessions, and are a bit like soft porn; all hype but none of the action and excitement. It is really not worth the grief and hassle of being out in public for many hours braving the horrendous traffic and punishing humidity.

I nevertheless accepted the invitation to watch the whole extravaganza at our office in Turbot Street because I was keenly aware that the alternative is to stay at home alone, picking bits of fluff from my navel while watching re-runs of ‘90s sitcoms on cable.

In any case, it was a perfect excuse to be a little less reclusive, indulge in a spot of corporate hobnobbery, and be in the company of like-minded and like-bearded folks.

While waiting for the fireworks display to start, I spent the time catching up with old mates whom I have not seen for a while. We traded the latest news and office gossip [5] and entertained each other with witty anecdotes about Malaysian politicians (always a good laugh). We also discussed Beyonce’s belly button extensively while we slouched on the couch [6] while cleverly balancing Coke cans on our bellies.

There was an endless supply of scones, cheese sandwiches and drinks that came with little umbrellas served by an assortment of outrageously hot sheilas.[7]

So OK, I’m exaggerating, but the point is, we had a really good time.

The fireworks display started at 7.00 pm, complete with a spectacular F-111 jets dump-and-burn routine [8] which saw the sky over Brisbane erupt into a 30-minute explosion of colour and brilliance. Briefly, everyone in the room became a six-year-old once again as the city was bathed in a sea of lights.

It was so exciting that some of us inadvertently soiled our trousers slightly.

The Riverfire was a truly great spectacle, and I was rather impressed how the locals went about the whole business with minimum fuss. Everything was so orderly, there was no traffic congestion, the public transportation worked smoothly, and everyone’s blood pressure remained at acceptable levels.

It grieves me to say this, but in that sense, the whole thing is simply head, shoulders and solar plexus above the usual affairs that we get in KL for Merdeka and New Year celebrations.

Having said all that, I would imagine Malaysia Truly Asia is actually capable of putting on a far more dazzling effort, perhaps in conjunction with the 44th Birthday of Malaysia. We have our low-mileage Sukhoi Fighters to perform our very own RON 95-inspired dump-and-burn routine, and we can probably put a Scorpene submarine or two in the whole mix.

Mat Rempits [9] can join in as well, adding further colour to the whole celebration, and the illegal mercun sellers can get together to put on a fabulous show.

Maybe it was just the soft holiday, but the Riverfire felt a little like the Brisbane version of Malam Tujuh Likur to me, sans meriam buluh, mercun katak (legal or otherwise) and bunga api cap kepala kucing. And it made me think about a lot of things after the show.

I saw my childhood flashing before my eyes, and I thought about the happy, carefree days and all the memories that are becoming more sepia-tinted with each passing year. I thought about the loved ones, the dearly departed, the memories I wanted to hold on to, and the ones I could really do without. And I thought of the days when my waistline was in the 30s and my income was in the lower tax bracket.

Above all, I thought about Malaysia, my home.

I guess it was simply because when you are traveling, the places you visit and the sheer time that you have in your hands often invites introspection. Being far away makes you realise how much you miss home, and that there is probably no other place that you’d rather be. You feel proud of being Malaysian, although not in a rabid, uniform-wearing and cow-head stomping way.[10]

While I think that there are a lot of things that we can be thankful for, I can’t help but worry about how messed up some things are in our country. I sometimes wonder what kind of Malaysia am I leaving behind for my daughter because after 52 years of independence and 44 years since the formation of Malaysia, the nation is undergoing a serious mid-life crisis.

Some of our antics of late are rather hackneyed and completely cringe-worthy. Without going into specifics, [11] I think we have had enough of the self-serving bickering and petty squabbles among leaders and politicians. We just want things to be fixed – the economy, declining competitiveness as a nation, FDI outflow, inflation, unemployment, unemployability, the education system.

So they can stuff yet another by-election up their bottoms and the rakyat probably wouldn’t care less.

It is so achingly obvious that a lot of things need mending and yet, we prefer to dismiss the situation with an indifferent shrug. Sometimes you get that sinking feeling that though we have done pretty well in the past, we, inexplicably, don’t seem too interested to use our past successes as a foundation upon which we can build a better, brighter future. Instead, we are quite happy to just replay it like some old film so that we can feel all warm inside our cocoon.

How bizarre.

Salam Aidilfitri to all dear readers (yes, all 25 of you) and drive carefully during the festive season.

God bless you all, us all.

Notes:

[1] Yes, it is a great place and I am having a great time. Thank you very much for asking.

[2] Readers will be pleased to know that this act will not be accompanied by Serena Williams-esque US Open tirade.

[3] Apparently it’s a big deal. For more details, go to www.brisbanefestival.com.au

[4] Australian slang for ‘genuine’ or ‘the real thing’.

[5] This is a little gay, I know.

[6] Hey, it rhymes!

[7] Australian slang for ‘girls’. Usually hot ones.

[8] Starting from next year, this will be replaced with a more environmental friendly aircraft. How very lovely.

[9] They are usually a menace, but if their bikes are festooned with Jalur Gemilang, they are considered kosher Mat Cemerlangs.

[10] This is an unnecessary political reference, but I just wanted to say something clever.

[11] Because you can read it all in the broadsheets and tabloids. Or better still, on The Malaysian Insider.

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