The taxi driver, Abdullah, was a Malay man in his early forties. A friendly man too as he cordially asked me, “You reporter ke?”
Chuckled, I examined my casual Friday attire and realized combined with a beat-up, ratty knapsack like the one I was carrying, you might as well give me an Al-Jazeera card and a microphone and it is Jonathan Cheah live on the scene for me.
I answered him jokingly, “Bukanlah . . . Nampak macam saje. Sekarang fashion mah” (No, . . . just look like one. It’s fashionable now.) We both had a quick laugh but I suspect that the taxi driver had something he wanted to share but was hesitant. I figured I would get the conversation going and decided to risk going a little further.
“Sekarang jadi wartawan pun susah kat Malaysia. Kalau dari luar negera, kena bantai polis dan kalau dari akhbar tempatan , gaji sikit kerana semua orang tak baca surat khabar tempatan pun. Semua orang tak percaya. . .semua surat khabar besar milik BN punya.” ( Its hard for a journalist in Malaysia. If you are from overseas, the ploice beat you up and if you are from local newspapers, your pay is low because nobody reads the local newspapers anymore. Nobody believes them. . . all the mainstream newspapers are owned by Barisan Nasional .)
To which Abdullah replied, “ Yalah. Macam Star, semua bohong punya. Utusan Malaysia jugak tak guna. Sama jugak.” He continued, “ Tak tahu si Najib ini macam mana nak tunjuk muka. Rakyat sendiri pun belasah.” (Yes. Take the Star, its all lies. Utusan Malaysia is useless also. Don’t know how Najib can show his face. Even our own citizens are beaten.)
Then I asked him, “Bang ada pergi Bersih 3.0 tak?” (Sir, did you go to Bersih 3.0?)
His response was an emphatic, “Pergi!” (Went!) he said proudly.
His response was an emphatic, “Pergi!” (Went!) he said proudly.
That was it.
A 10 minute car ride became an energetic conversation about the state of the government and how they would use their control of the main stream media to spread its disinformation and are now getting caught lying by the international watchdogs. We talked about the need to change the current bloated and corrupt federal government.
We even exchanged our own war stories about that day. Where we were when the tear gas hit. Who was with us that day. Abdullah was in the crowd at Masjid Jamek with his two children. I told him I was near the frontline at Jalan Tun Perak with my wife when the police fired their tear gas without warning. He was surprised that my wife, Pleasance Chong, was with me.
He was impressed, “Wah…You punya bini memang kuat semangat.” (Your wife has strong spirit)
I told him, “Kalau kita tak lawan mereka, siapa nak lawan? (If we don’t fight them, who will?)
I continued, “Bila wakil rakyat rasa rakyat hutang mereka dan bukan sebaliknya, itulah masa kena tukar.” (when it our representatives feel the electorate owes them and not the other way around, its time for change.)
Abdullah agreed. Next thing you know we had arrived at the Crystal Crown hotel.
If you had told me 10 years ago that I would have an adult conversation about politics and race relations not only with a man of Malay descent let alone a stranger, I would have thought you lived in La La Land. But today, we were not a Chinese man and a Malay man talking to each other. We looked beyond the colour of our skins and saw each other as fellow Malaysians. Fellow Malaysians in the fight to save our country from the arrogant and corrupt politicians who have been in power for more than half a century and have bled the country dry. It was a beautifully moving experience for me and I thank my lucky stars that I was alive to see this change in my country.
When I settled the bill with him and he looked to me with his arm extended.
“Selamat Berjuang!” He said with a firm handshake and the look of determination in his eyes.
I smiled and replied, “Selamat Berjuang! My Malaysian brother!” (Keep on fighting!)
(All it takes for Evil to exist is when good people fail to act.)
