The Way You Are, My Little Kampong (Ignorance)

Devil and evil don’t exist, ignorance does. ~ PC Wan

His head was about to explode, at least this was what he felt right now. The joyous laughter of his neighbour’s five mischievous kids and the noise of the motorbike rhymed together like some oxymoron orchestra. The longer he heard, the more unsettled he became. “For God’s sake, can’t they rest for a while?” He was annoyed by their mother who just sat on the bench, witnessing everything unfolded in front of her eyes, but did nothing.

He tried to concentrate on his novel, which he bought few days ago and dutifully devoted in reading it dutifully. Reading was always his only pleasure, while girls did arouse her sometime, he preferred to rhapsodize the fiction he read in his imaginative mind.

Unable to concentrate, he stood up and stared at the kids and hoped their daydreaming mother would stop them before they had the chance to demolish the house. The oldest among the boisterous children, was only 11 years old, and God blessed him, he was now riding on a motorbike with his 3 brothers following behind like herd of pilgrims. There was another girl, who was his youngest sister, wailing and howling in top notch incessantly out of jealousy.

“They really know how to raise kids, don’t they?” His mother grinned sarcastically while she was watching drama unraveled in front of her.

So nice of neighbourhood right? He still remembered he once wrote an essay about the disastrous deterioration relationships between city dwellers. But, the scene right in front of him, reminded him the relationships between kampong dwellers was nothing less than calamity. That’s why he always reprimanded cynically when he heard somebody trying to say ‘how nice to live in a kampong’.

“There is nothing nice living in a kampong. Yes, we don’t have congestion in our arses and traffic, thus we will be healthier blablabla… But we have people burning their old furniture unscrupulously in their courtyard, even the police is so impressed until they are willing to jump on the bandwagon of burning spree. They burned whatever they could find, plastics, papers, conscience etc. Who cares about driving without license when we can bribe the police with cheaper price? Unlike metropolitans like KL, bribing a police here isn't going to cost a bomb. There’s also myriad of poor managements going on in kampong, uncollected rubbish, porous roads which resemble stomata on leaves, static water which breeds nothing except Aedes sp. The bus will never be punctual or there’s no bus service at all sometime. Vandalism is rampant, road racing is commonplace, reckless driving is part of our life, so tell me what so nice about living in kampong?”

This was the way he showed his fury when he was irritated by illiterates (according to him, it means people who ask senile questions).

“Another problem comes…” His mother was looking at something.

X

Now, he heard that and he immediately knew what that problem was. A faint groan of car engine approached amidst the noise of the motorbike and kids’ annoying holler. His another neighbour was back with his ageing yellow jeep.

He still remembered how he used to blame his parents for not buying a corner house so that he was not going to suffer these two torturous families, The Chims and the Chais.

To his left, the one with kids darting with motorbike like scud missile, belonged to Chims. To his right, the one with yellow jeep that was always parked perpendicular, not parallel to the road, belonged to Chais.

To hell with ‘the more the merrier’. His family was the last to move to this neighbourhood and this house which situated right middle of these two families’. Mr Chai who had two dashing sons and one ravishing daughter, was a retired teacher and a renal failure patient. Perhaps the removal of one kidney had retarded him or somehow slowed down his reaction time, Mr Chai had already managed to crash two times into his own rubbish bins and three times into his neighbour’s.

He never knew how to park his car properly and worse still, we had proverb sounded ‘like father like son’, his son had somehow inherited Mr Chai’s superior parking skill. His son was a busy man. He seemed like chasing the time all the time because he seldom reversed his car slower than 40km/h, which deemed as an incredible achievement by Mr Chim’s sons. Everytime he reversed his car, stentorian applause would break off from Mr Chim’s house and both kids would stare at his godlike reverse skill enviously.

Mr Chim, on the other hand, parked his car properly, but had difficulties in keeping his car keys out of the reach of his unusually motivated sons. His eldest son ignited his car in one fine morning while he was only 8 years old. He second son, unprecedentedly, reversed Mr Chai’s 4x4 when he was 7 years old and crashed into the gate.

But, Mrs Chim, remained unperturbed. Neither the crash scene nor the motor-drifting stunt in her house’s very own courtyard would move her, even a little bit from her adored couch, which situated perfectly perpendicular with a TV set, equipped with state-of-the-art satellite (illegal).

She once complained to his unfortunate neighbour that his sons (daughter as well) wouldn’t listen to her and she was too busy and preoccupied (by?) to look after them. What kept her so busy? Well, it still remained as a great mystery to her neighbour until today.

Today, while everything presented in front of his eyes, Tash shook his head. After living in this neighbourhood for more than 10 years, he had been witness more grievous stunts before. Motor-drifting in house? He surmised that if the kids were given the truck’s key, they could drift the truck as well.

“The way you are, my little kampong.” He scowled while the exhaust gas emitted from the motor hit him.

X

God worked in His own way. Tash couldn’t agree more with that. People here, though was not as busy as city’s white-collars, they would always wish there was one more hour for a day, ‘how nice will it be if we’ve 25 hours a day’ was what he often heard in this small neighbourhood.

Mrs Chai, whom Tash suspected reincarnated from a troubled slave who had thousands of grudges was unusually hardworking, compared with her compatriots (women) in this neighbourhood. She was a fishmonger. She never parked her car in front of people’s house because she was bad in maneuvering anything that was mobile. The last time she mustered enough courage to reverse a car from her house, she crashed into her neighbour’s house, which was one street across. She vowed she would never drive again.

She never complained that time was terrible insufficient. Despite her workload, woke up 3am every morning, worked until 5 pm, she never uttered a single complain. Mrs Chim, on the other hand, jobless (housewife), often spotted in her neighbour’s house, telling how terribly insufficient her time was.

“You know what, taking care of the children is the most toilsome task in the world.” She told Tash’s mother on morning. Tash just shrugged.

“You reading one ha? Boring stuff isn’t it? I can’t lay my eyes on book for more than 5 minutes.” She told Tash’s mother. Oddly, she regarded that as some sort of glorious achievement.

“I’m very busy one, how to read? Though I like reading…” That’s what she told Mrs Chai in another occasion. God told Tash people could change, for once, Tash questioned God.

Tash wondered when a woman, methodically watched 5 hours of TV a day, faithfully went to KTV at night and then woke up at 10am, would 30 hours a day ample enough for her. On the other hand, Tash was also amazed by Mr Chai, who was once a “Great Teacher Award (GTA)” winner. Always baffled by the criteria the panels chose the ‘Great Teacher’, he asked Mr Chai one day when he saw Mr Chai stepped out from his yellow jeep, which was 50cm away from Tash’s rubbish bin.

“You interested in becoming teacher meh? No secret one la, I also don’t know.” He smile anxiously as if he had just spotted how close his car to other people’s rubbish bin.

Tash couldn’t agree more with that. There was no secret to become a ‘Great Teacher’. All a person needed to do was to feign ignorance to everything around him/her. Never read, was the first golden rule. Never took initiative to know, was the second golden rule. He had once seen Mr Chain struggling to recall their current Minister of Education’s name. He had once overheard a heated argument between Mr and Mrs Chai over the location of Moscow. Mr Chai, remarkably, insisted Moscow was located in Latin America.

In this neighbourhood, what people cared was ‘interesting’ news aka gossips. Who divorced who was the all-time favourite while sodomist and child rape were becoming increasingly popular among flibbertigibbets (both males and females). Everyday, Tash would see couples of gossipers sitting by the roadside and exchanging news like CIA spies. But what befuddled Tash most was sometime, people who were always ‘busy’ and ‘preoccupied’ also joined the gossips-study group formed informally.

“So much of integration, so much of kampong spirit.” Tash was about to greet Mr Chai’s eldest (or second?) when he suffered sudden lapse of memory. “What’s his name?” Tash was vexed.

If not because of a bizarre comment he heard few months ago, Tash wouldn’t even remember his face. Few months ago, in an oppressively sweltering afternoon, he overheard a conversation between Mr Chai and his son.

“Nothing interesting today ho? I mean newspapers.” (God bless him, he read!!)

“No rape case ma…so boring nowadays.” His son said that.

Tash’s mother reacted more viciously when she heard that.

“Let’s have our fingers crossed that anything will happen to his gorgeous and curvy sister.”

X

Mr Chim, on the contrary, not only good in parking his car skillfully, he was as enigmatic and as nocturnal as an owl. Tash seldom saw him and he had no idea what Mr Chim’s occupation was. When he was home, he would slam his door shut in spectacular fashion. When he was not at home, he would either leave his cigarettes carelessly on the table or his car keys imprudently in front of his children, like a dangled carrot in front of few rabbits

If Tash was asked whether or not Mr Chim was a good parent, Tash’s answer would be an unequivocal yes. He left his parenting job, sensibly, to his ‘busy’ wife. Being a head of a middle-class family, life could be implausibly arduous and tough for a man like Mr Chim. Hence, he claimed that he didn’t have time for his children. That also meant he could turn a blind eye on his children’s awe-inspiring motor stunts without qualms.

Apart from agonizing workload, he claimed that he had to socialize. Rather than called it a part of obligation, he would prefer calling the activities like participating in inaugural fishing competition, boar hunting competition and golfing ‘leisure activities’ that played a pivotal role in fostering goodwill with workers and bosses.

Being very prudent, he avoided all the lure of lapsing into complacency. He always wanted to have the best for his 5 children. Leaving them at home was a plan to teach them how to become more independent. Letting them reversing the cars on their own was to nurture them to face the challenges as early as possible and leaving a packet of cigarettes together with a lighter was to let them know the smoking was a health hazard.

Despite of his majestic and thoughtful plan, clearly his wife wasn’t impressed because he and his wife could never stop bickering. Determined to fight for everything they both had diverged opinions, sometime, Tash could hear faint sound of percussions on the wall, breaking plates and strange conversations like:

“You know how busy am I? I’ve to look after all of them!! All five of them!”

“Why you let them drive the car on their own again?”

“Can you please shut up, later people hear, very malu one le!!”

Tash would refrain himself from listening to their conversation if he heard something like that.

After the ferocious brawl like that, out of Tash’s surprise, he saw them holding hands together again the morning after the fight. Moment later, he saw a furniture company lorry stopping in front of Mr Chim’ s gate.

“Surely he has a hand over his wife.” Tash thought.

X

Tash refused to take a grim view on kampong spirit but what happened around him was too true to ignore. Mr Chai’s son-in-law, again, blocked Tash’s way out by parking Mr Chai’s car comfortably in front of Tash’s house.

At the same time, Mr Chim’s youngest son (5 years old) was putting a cigarette into his mouth, again. Gossipers were still as motivated and agitated as ever. Tash still didn’t know name of Mr Chai’s son.

But at least, there was something Tash could take solace on.

As long as Mr Chai didn’t lose his another kidney, he wouldn’t (hopefully) crash into Tash’s house.

As long as, Mr Chim was still sober enough for not leaving his truck’s key, which his adorable sons always lusted of, on the table, Tash’s house would be spared from imminent annihilation.

He kept on telling himself this and he even convinced his parents that Chais and Chims were none of their business.

As long as Chais didn’t crash their rubbish bins again, Chims didn’t throw their plates over, the gossipers didn’t spread malicious rumour about Tash’s family, all the absurdity around them could be tolerated.

But little did he know, it’s this ‘as long as’ attitude that overshadowed the kampong dwellers very slowly and gradually.

Because of this ‘as long as’ attitude, Tash thought he could just turn his back on everything. But, he was wrong.

Because of this ‘as long as’ attitude, Mrs Chim, thought naively at long as his sons didn’t kill anyone on road, everybody would be safe forever. But, she was wrong.

Because of this ‘as long as’ attitude, Mr Chai could console himself by pointing out the fact as long as he could be ‘Great Teacher’, who cared whether he read or not? He could stay ignorant forever. But, he was definitely wrong.

Because of this ‘as long as’ attitude, kampong dwellers could still continue gossiping idiotically as long as they could sustain their life. They thought they would be indispensable in this competitive society. But, they were gravely wrong.

X

‘As long as’ attitude should be reprimanded, quite obviously, because it’s one form of ignorance. It’s true we should never prophesize everything because it’s simply humanly impossible. But at least what we can do is to identify what’s nonsense and what’s not. Shed the ‘as long as’ attitude, we can avoid pitfall of abominable complacency that hinders us from prospering and improving.

Always remember, what always plagues a society, a country, isn’t disease that can be eradicated overnight, it’s ignorance. We can always tell ourselves how great we are, how magnificent is the kampong spirit, but it’s just ignorance and nonsense. At the end of the day, they are just deceitful illusions.

Ignorant or smart, do or die. It’s time for you to choose.

Absurdity rules, truth obscured.

Blindness speaks, conscience buried.

Ignorance exists, lies told.

Over and over again,

Until enlightenment overcasts absurdity,

Light outcasts blindness, and

Wisdom outplays ignorance.

Disclaimer : This is not a description of my neighbourhood. This is just a metaphor.