A Toxteth Tale

I was tagged by Tuan Kerp to say me two sen's worth on the much trumpeted (but rarely practised) concept of Muhibbah. I have mentioned before despite me frequent postings on race relations, I am not some rabid extremist Macha. I can proudly say I have close friends from various races & we all get together to share a few laughs over a beer or two. Yes, even me Melayu-jahat (most of em anyways) friends drink; alcohol is kinda of a social glue that bonds us all together.

Anyways, I digress. I'd like to share a tale or two with you which me thinks highlights the concept of muhibbah. Although it was a few years ago & me was then a young, long-haired metalhead studying in Liverpool, it still resonates with me till today.

In me final year, I was living in the seriously fooked-up ghetto section of Merseyside known as Toxteth (rent was cheap). Me flatmate & meself were the only two non-Malay residents in an apartment block filled with loads of Bumi students.

Story 1:
So every Friday evening, the Malaysian contingent would gather at the plastic turf pitch (the same one where Robbie Fowler honed his skills!) behind our apartment blocks fer a kick about. I got to know most of the Malay students here & always had a good laugh. In particular, there was this Kelatanese guy who was very amiable and friendly. Then one day I found out he had casually asked the other guys, "Apo namo Bala?"

"Bala la," came the reply. "Tok, namo Melayu dia," he asked again. The other guys chuckled & told him me full name & that me really was a Macha, not Melayu (me mixed blood heritage means I am more chocolate than Guinness)! Guess what, the amiable & friendly Kelantanese fooking stopped speaking to me after that . . .

Story 2:
Me & me mates took turns cooking & since most of the other diners were Moslem, I made sure all food stuff were purchased from the Halal butcher store. One such store was run by this pak cik sailor (there were quite a few in Liverpool) who never returned after the war.

So one fine fooking day, I was there waiting fer him to chop me bird, he makes small talk. Telling me how I need to study hard & do well in me exams . . . so far, so good . . . coz as a Malay I needed to go back & reclaim Tanah Melayu from the dastardly Cina & Keling!!! Fooking hell, I was at boiling point but held me tongue as this was an old man & didn't want to tell him to fook off (in hindsight, I should have).

I recounted me experience with me other Malay friends who saw the funny side of the story but nonetheless, in a show of solidarity, decided to boycott the racist muthafooker. Considering the pak cik's shop was the closest & most convenient Halal butcher to us, I was quite touched that they saw a need fer affirmative action against a fellow (ex-)Malaysian.

Anyways, here's are two sides of the coin that to me show the kind of polarisation we face. On the one hand, there are those narrow-minded fookers who only befriend their own kind. But all is not lost as there some who can still see thru the bullshit.

ps: Sorry fer the long-winded tales. Please feel free to share yer own experiences by posting in the comments box.

pss: JonC & Bernard Chong, you have been tagged. Please do write about this topic in yer respective blogs (on me blog roll).