CALL him Ishmael. Whenever I go to Sibu, he picks me up from the airport; when he comes over to Kuching, it would be my turn to be his driver.
Last Sunday, he called that he would be in Kuching on Monday morning for some reasons and wondered if we could meet for coffee for old time’s sake.
Of all days, he chose July 22 – a day of great historical significance in terms of political history of Sarawak and Malaysia. Didn’t he know that I was going to take some pictures of what was going on at Central Padang for possible use in my columns in the future?
For friendship’s sake, however, I had to oblige him instead; thus missing all the fun at the rally.
Not having seen each other for a while, we talked about many things under the sun, except local politics. As both of us have our own political leanings, there is a tacit understanding between us that we do not touch on the local intrigues and scandals and the people allegedly involved in those. This avoids argument, which may adversely affect a long-cherished relationship. We both have friends in the various political groups. It would not be wise for either of us to take sides except during voting.
Our conversation revolved around something mundane – first about family welfare, the weather and the business climate.
While waiting at a busy traffic junction, where the light seemed ages to turn green, I pointed out to him the cars in front, on the left and on the right – all foreign cars. Not a single Saga, or Perdua, or Kancil. I asserted that it was the Allies who lost World War II, not Germany and Japan.
“Ooo say so?” Ishmael reacted, as he was sending a message to his family on his handphone, but was alert enough to hear what I was saying.
Half in jest, half in belief, I went on expounding my theory that if the Japanese had stayed put to rule Sarawak, by now we would have developed our agriculture. We would have been in a better position to produce bananas, pineapples, soya beans, and rice. We would have enough rice for home consumption as well as for sale to the ‘Mother Country’. We would have exploited our marine resources for our own benefit, instead of letting the Vietnamese fishermen scoop our fish away with impunity.
“True, true,” he agreed.
Then it was his turn to ask me if Japan would ever go to war again; to which I replied in the positive. I was referring to why the government of Shinzo Abe had been wanting to have the present constitution of Japan revised. He’s almost there to revoking Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution, now that his party is dominating the Upper House.
My friend doesn’t read newspapers – he relies on YouTube for news. He’s not aware that the Japanese constitution forbids her to go to war any more. In fact, the provision of Article 9 of the constitution (effective May 3, 1947) looks like a solemn oath when it declares: “The Japanese people forever renounce as a sovereign right of the nation and threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes”.
But Japan has the right to defend itself from enemy attacks; it is allowed to own armed forces only for self-defence, not for aggression.
This constitution was drawn up by General Douglas MacArthur, the virtual ruler of Japan (1945-1952), to ensure that Japan would not be a threat to American interests in this part of the world. However, the old politicians and the nationalists in Japan are yearning to go back to the Meiji Constitution, which was based on the Prussian and British models.
My friend from Sibu could not read the thoughts whirling in my mind as I was keeping an eye on the road and on other vehicles overtaking mine. His mind was focused on his handphone.
As we came to another junction and a long queue, he suddenly asked: “Do you think they can conquer this country again?”
I said: “You mean the Japs – no need for another war; they have been back for many years now – look at those vehicles on our roads ‘lah’.”
They even built the Batang Ai hydroelectricity project in 1985, I added. At another traffic junction, the subject changed abruptly. My friend wanted to know why the July 22 celebration was being held at two different places – one in Bintulu and the other in Kuching.
I did not pretend to know the rationale behind the choice of venues for the rallies, except to tell him that the rally at Central Padang in Kuching was being organised by certain non-governmental organisations (NGOs), and members and supporters of certain newly-formed political parties in Sarawak; while the one in Bintulu was the official celebration organised by the state government. Both groups were marking the beginning of self-government for Sarawak as envisaged in the Nine Cardinal Principles of the Sarawak Constitution 1941 (the ultimate self-government for Sarawak). The date also commemorates the introduction of a ministerial form of government for Sarawak, with Tan Sri Datuk Amar Stephen Kalong Ningkan as its first Chief Executive – popularly known as ‘The Right Hon’ble, The Chief Minister’.
My friend asked about the two Sarawak flags?
“One flag looks like a colonial flag,” he commented. To which my answer was: “It beats me”.
This was to evade a controversy – I was thinking about the importance of our relationship more than the significance of the number of flags of the state.
Sticking to Japan would be safer, I thought. I told him that I went to a Japanese school in my hometown.
“And what did you learn?”
“Singing the Japanese national anthem and planting tapioca,” I answered.
He laughed. We arrived at his hotel at Jalan Padungan where he, slamming the door of the car, said: “Sayonara – see you at the See Good at 7!”
Comments can reach the writer via [email protected].