It has been a while since it rained like this.
I liked it when it rain, lying down on the bed solemnly; while reading on the last book of Harry Potter, The Deathly Hallows. A cup of nice hot latte beside me, while I slowly imagine my journey in the magical world of Hogwarts.
Yes, I have bought the book from Borders. A price that I would pay for then to buy it from the hypermarket, together with all the hype. No pun intended, thought. I am glad to announced that I have finished the book in a day, and I am glad that I have not given up, like any other book that I read. Perhaps it was because I like to read about Harry Potter. Perhaps I liked about how controversial the issue of Daniel Radcliffe, the young magician in Harry Potter movies played in Equus. I liked the fact that Daniel’s body is nicely curved and shaped to my likings; but that is not the point here.
We all liked fine art, but having lived in Malaysia for almost eternity, it shows me of how closed minded sometimes people in Malaysia can tend to think. We are not talking about liberal families and all, but rather how the general Malaysian’s perception when it comes to nudity. Of course, these are then tied to the social ills that we have in the country. The country is trying so hard to tell the world that we are of a good nation; we are an Islamic country.
Yet, in school, our text book tells us of unity. Our text book tells us that we are a multinational country, and religion is free for all. Of course, they have not forget to put a point, that Islam is the official religion of the country. Having that said, I think it is ridicules to tell the world, that we are an Islamic country!
I read the book May 13, well at least I tried to read it. It talks about the racial behavior and the clashes of “clans” in Malaysia. Come to think of it, I don’t call myself racist. In fact, I called the Malaysian Government being a racist, and I can show you some facts that they are.
I am the third generation born in Malaysia, a paper with my Malaysian citizenship. I have my rights to vote, and I pay my taxes when due. Yet, the most ironic part of this all, I am not recognised as Bumiputra.
Bumiputra translated literally, it means “son of the soil”. Seriously, which part of me being born in Malaysia, the third generation, and yet I do not qualify for that title.
We often sell in brouchers, telling people that Malaysian is a peaceful country. Oh, but we have got snatch thieves, we have got rapist, we even kill people with plastic bombs. Yes, we are still a peaceful country. Our National Service men don’t even know how to properly clean a M16. See? We come in peace.