Merdeka

When Malaysia turned 52, one of my sisters, two old friends, three new acquaintences and I were at a mamak stall drinking Milo ais, eating French fries and watching the Everton-Wigan game on a screen propped precariously by the drain. (Neocolonialism hurhur.) They told us that "orang mau tengok bola," so I didn't get my countdown. After the game we walked back to the hotel, and sister and I joined another bunch of fellow convention-goers; we prayed for the country then had several rounds of Uno and Snap.

I don't know where this country is going, but it's good to know that someone does.

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I just got back from a camp in KL. Why I'm blogging instead of replying emails or attending to Facebook or reading or going to bed is beyond me. Or not -- narcissism is, sadly, within both the scope of my conduct and the bounds of plausibility. But during my bus ride home I thought of the admissions essay I'd written for college, and about how it's been just about two years since I first got to Williamstown. So here be essay-which-I-hoped-might-impress-scary-college-people-in-December-'06. o_O

Highways

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.

I have spent an unwonted amount of time on Malaysia’s North-South Highway. I remember sitting in the back seat of our old station wagon with my three siblings, inventing stories, reciting Bible verses or Cantonese poetry (neither of which we really understood), playing my father’s game of making sums out of number plates, admiring sleek sports cars, or dozing on each other’s shoulders. Then there were the moments when I would silently revel in the landscape around us, whether it was tree-blanketed hills, urban lights, or a star-dusted sky.

We made frequent trips up and down the country to visit our relatives and run errands. There were also the poignant, cramped drives every time we moved to a new parish. The car would be filled to capacity with last-minute packing and perhaps our sedated pet dogs; we would share a contemplative fatigue. One vivid recollection is being fetched from the airport after two years of living in Oak Park, Illinois; the highway seemed more familiar than the van I was in and my suddenly-grown cousins.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,

For the last four years most of my highway sojourns have been solitary, taking a bus home from Singapore for the holidays. After hauling my luggage through customs it was always a relief to sink into a padded seat, trying to shake off the surreal ‘I was in Phys Ed two hours ago, and now I’m in a different world’ feeling I always got.

Usually I would read, either a book that I had neglected throughout a busy semester, or perhaps a Literature text or Chemistry notes. Surprisingly often the loneliness that accompanies independence would be salved by a chance meeting with a friend on the bus. Two things didn’t change, however: the view the highway afforded of the land I love, and the bliss of reaching my destination after hours of travel.

Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.

The six of us still take car journeys together, with the adult-sized children squeezed in the back seat uncomfortably. As this requires the convergence of six schedules and an air ticket for my sister, these trips are far less frequent. And while the general atmosphere in the car remains the same--apart from the reduced airspace--our conversations now cover my grandparents’ health, malapropisms overheard in Singapore and Wisconsin, the physics of gas stations as well as the merits of studying philosophy and break dancing.

Another difference is that my two elder siblings now take their turns at the wheel. I’ll be learning how to drive soon; the prospect of mobility is exciting.

And whither then? I cannot say.
--from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring

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Pa's ordering a car next week -- I think it'll be our first actually new car. First we had an old station wagon, then in Oak Park we first borrowed a car and later bought a small one with bad heating for USD800 from a family leaving the U.S., and when we got back to Malaysia we first borrowed a car and later bought it from the family friends who'd lent it to us. Is interesting, this trajectory.

I still can't drive. :(