The flag still flies high

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Going back to our young days and recalling the activity that lured us off the gray sidewalk of sameness into an amusement park of sights, sounds and colours.

HE has completed a two-month stint as a journalist and travelled to many towns that begin with B in Sarawak – Bario, Baram, Ba Kelalan, Bintulu, Betong, Belaga and Bintangor.

He survived and experienced more in these two months than the times he lived in a protected environment.

He was 10 when he wrote this – nine years ago. I love the way he was. I have found tremendous joy reading this again today.

Enjoy the thoughts of a boy on Merdeka Day:

My mother says I am still a very tiny bud. I think small as I am, I am still called a star.

Thank you, my parents, I am protected and guided. Thank you, Malaysia, the land where I stand. Thank you, God, I am growing each day.

My classmates and I like to form other meanings with words. In our own Foochow dialect, Merdeka sounds rather humorous – and Malaysia Boleh sounds like don’t eat glass.

So, everyday, we shout Merdeka, Malaysia Boleh and the like. We have fun. We have joy. Today, on Merdeka Day, I want to truly say Merdeka, Merdeka and mean it whole-heartedly.

I also want to fly a flag on my mother’s car. I think it is so nice to see the flag fluttering. But my mother does not like the idea. She says flying flags does not really show a person’s love for the country. I asked my mother whether it was because we couldn’t even afford the smallest of flags?

However, this morning we happened to pass by a small car flying more than 10 flags. It overtook us and the passengers popped out their heads and pulled monkey faces at us.

So I think mum is right – the flag flies only in our hearts.

We went to the church cleaning this morning – a spring cleaning. I saw many uncles and aunties happily helping out. I thought I saw flags flying in every corner of the church.

I used to like August very much. Why? Because on the first day of the month, it’s my birthday, in the middle of month, it’s my grandfather’s, then on the last day of the month, it is my country’s Independence Day.

There had been a reason to celebrate on 1st, 15th and 31st. But grandpa went back to the home of the Lord last year. Now, August has become a month with a reason to remember my gong gong on the 1st, 15th and 31st.

I remember. I listen. I watch. I learn. I see. I feel. I move. I smell. I touch. I love. I run. I jump. I yell. I sing. I dance.

I am not a great person. Malaysia is my country. I am one small star. But my mother says that’s wonderful too. Happy Merdeka Day.

This was posted on the blog of the boy’s mama then.

A journalist friend Desi commented: “He’s a shining star.”

Dobbs, a doctor at home, said: “He’s going to be an excellent writer.”

Auntie Ming added: “He’s marvellous.”

Indeed, it takes involvement of people, people like you and me, people like Desi and Dobbs and Auntie Ming to achieve a significant dream.

Today at 19, does the boy still want to fly a flag?

Is he a shining star as predicted by Desi, the journalist?

I’m not sure – not an excellent writer as how Dobbs would want him to be but he is certainly “original” in his writings.

Yesterday while thinking about a 10-year-old’s thoughts on Merdeka, I talked to a good friend about her Merdeka thoughts.

She said: “The country has not given me anything. I only have my good old days.”

What desperation. What disappointment.

Many feel so – what has the country given us?

Indeed, things have happened that broke the hearts of many of us, especially in recent years. But wait, she has her “good old days” too.

I have always loved Petronas Merdeka short films – from Yasmin Ahmad days to the latest Walk through time.

Petronas has maintained the short films with patriotic themes for Merdeka or festive seasons, avoiding politics and racial angst, and it’s usually remembering the good old days.

Max Lucado, in a chapter titled Read your life backward from his book Cure for the common life, said:

“Every so often, we find ourselves riding the flow of life. Not resisting or thrashing it

but just riding it. A stronger current lifts, channels, and carries, daring us to declare I was made for this.”

Lucado asks readers to go back to their youth and recall the activity that lured them off the gray sidewalk of sameness into an amusement park of sights, sounds and colours?

He leads me to the fireworks, kite-flying, games of hide-and-seek, jumping aeroplane and waiting patiently for the first durian to fall in the silence of the night.

I even remember the pail of latex that dropped on my head when I slipped in the rubber garden.

I remember catching many fireflies and put them in a transparent plastic bag to enjoy the glow.

Then Lucado leads me forward into teenage years – those days of reading Sherlock Holmes and being fascinated by books and words.

Those days of writing Dear Aries letters to the English teacher to get problems addressed, at the same time having my English corrected.

Those days of writing stories and sending them to the newspapers to earn pocket money to buy books. It was books, books and more books.

I’m led into one more pondering – analysing the best days as a young adult with no upstream flailing, no battling against the current.

It was those days of looking through the lens, the lens of a camera. I caught many beautiful scenes and many beautiful smiles of children and seniors.

Do you note common themes? To be sure, the scenery changes and the characters drop out. The details may alter but your bent, your passion, what you yearn to do, you keep doing.

The current of life’s river keeps dropping you at a particular bank. Always doing the same thing. And why not? It comes easily to you. Not without struggle but with less struggle than your peers.

It does make a lot of sense to me. What I’m doing now is something I like – something actually extending from my childhood days, teenage years and young adult life.

Is not journalism about colours of the fireworks, writing, looking at life through the lenses and words? Are there many of those Sherlock Holmes’ moments in the course of writing stories? What has the country done for me? Or what can we do for the country?

On Merdeka Day, desiring neither power nor money but only all things good for the country, no battling against the currents of extremism and racialism, just coming together to work for it – what you are best in.

Does the flag still really fly high in our hearts?

Yes, it does. When we think of the good old days, and work for it – it’s like the little star.

I remember. I listen. I watch. I learn. I see. I feel. I sing. I dance.