October 6, 2002
There a number of issues dominating the news today, ranging from Falwell’s idiotic statement to Bush’s attempt at repaying his Arms and Oil industry supporters to the status of the separated Siamese twins in Riyadh to the failure of Azalina’s opponents at getting nominations for the Putri UMNO elections. All of which are important issues but I believe that perhaps too many people have said too many things about most of them for today. So I think I should talk about things closer to home…perhaps.
I was at the nearby town (Pandan Indah) today, buying some supplies at the Pandan Capitol mall. Ain caught sight of a new restaurant in the place, right beside the Teppanyaki restaurant. They have various noodles there, which was what got our interest because it is a bit harder to find places that serve both rice and noodles, and is halal. Eating out is a bit complicated for us because Ira always insists of rice while Hanis always prefers to eat noodles, while Ain is not that adventurous when it comes to dishes. Me? Well, when at new places, I always look for things that I have never seen before elsewhere. Failing that, I’d go for whatever tickles my fancy and looks safe… you know, not fat laden, not sugar coated, not 99.9% chemical that sort of safe. I prefer those salad type dishes. Anyway, I digress.
Coming back to the issue of eating out. We do have an abundance of food choices here but there is also much that limits our diet, among these are religious restrictions, cultural restrictions, and a host of other things. One of the reasons why we Malaysians can live with each other, I believe, is that while there is an impressive array of issues that continue to threaten our social cohesion, there is a background cohesion that binds us together, a form of social glue that makes life possible. I believe that while we are suspicious, sometimes of other ethnic groups, we also have a form of respect and trust between us because we are fellow Malaysians. Allow me to illustrate.
I was once in a queue at a food court in Taman Maluri. I was queuing for the sizzling noodle and clay pot stuff stall that was run by a Chinese Malaysian couple. Standing in front of me was a Chinese man, I suspected that he was not Malaysian or at least not from Selangor because he spoke a somewhat different accented Cantonese. However, he as per normal did not think that a non-Chinese would understand Cantonese. As he got to the counter, he asked for clay pot noodle and asked the lady what sort of meats they had. She said that they only have beef and chicken. He asked if they had pork. She replies saying that they don’t serve pork because they serve halal food. He said if she kept some who would know. She told him that even if people would not know if she kept it hidden it would not be right because the area was for halal food. She also suggested that he try a restaurant nearby that served pork if he really wanted some. He commented she should follow his suggestion but she said it could cause her to lose most of her customers they found out and it would not make her feel good even if they did not find out. He said that would never happen but relented and ordered chicken with his noodles then stood aside to wait for it and allow me to make my order. When I got to the counter, I smiled at the lady and placed my order of Chicken feet and mushroom clay pot noodle but just to take make the lady’s point, I did it in Cantonese. She grinned and he looked positively uneasy. She then turned to help get the orders leaving him still looking uneasy but no more words were said until the orders came and thanks were issued.
Moral of the story? What is this? A kindergarten class? You figure it out.
Okay try this. An old teacher once said to his disciples, ‘everything we say or do is, to God, writing on water in a fast flowing river’.
‘Why do we bother doing all this then?’ Asked a somewhat disillusioned disciple.
The smiling old man looked at his young disciple and said, ‘because we hope that he sees us writing’.
Good night and don’t let bigots like Falwell bite.

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