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| Adibah Amin |
As a Malaysian who was steeped in
Malay-Islamic culture before being exposed to “Western” ideas, I may be able to
contribute a useful perspective on Salleh Ben Joned’s writings.
Salleh’s newspaper column As I Please (the main source of the
selected writings on this blog) has enraged some and delighted others. It would
not be accurate to say that “some” refers to Malay-Muslims and “others” to
Malaysians of other races and creeds.
True, several Malay-Muslim writers, academics
and assorted individuals have lashed out at Salleh through the media and other
channels. Incensed by his blithe disrespect for totems and taboos, they have
pinned various labels on him, the mildest being Mat Salleh – the Malay nickname
for an Englishman. But in private debate, many from the same community admit
that they enjoy the idol-toppling and that Salleh is salutary for Malaysian
society.
For “Western” readers, Salleh may be
reminiscent of the child who exclaims, “The Emperor’s not wearing any clothes!”
In Malay folk-tale terms, Salleh is Si Luncai, the peasant boy who shocks the
palace by comparing his father’s bald head with the king’s. Salleh appeals to that part of the Malay
psyche which loves to laugh at the stupidity of Pak Pandir, the self-deception
of Pak Kaduk and the greed of pseudo-pious Lebai Malang. As the other
communities of this land have similar traditions, Salleh’s irreverent wit is
very much in tune with the spirit that has kept Malaysians sane.
A growing number of Malaysians share
Salleh’s fear that pompous self-righteousness will smother this lively spirit. He sees his Malaya (the name of the peninsula
before Malaysia was formed in 1963; the word, as Salleh has discovered to his
joy, means “freedom” in Tagalog, a language related to Malay) being shackled
and shaped into a humourless society. And
he states what he sees with a child’s devastating candour.
A child whose vision remains unblurred by
schooling and socialization, he sees through fallacies wherever he meets them,
in “Western” as well as “Eastern” thinking.
Though Salleh claims just “a little knowledge”
of Islamic thought, he has read judiciously in the field and has used his
“God-given mind” well. His style of
analysis, though learnt in the “West,” is surely common to honest thinkers the
world over. In him, intellect and
intuition merge. The result is an
understanding that cuts through dogma to the essential idea of the
Compassionate Creator.
Despite years of staying and studying in
the West, Salleh is very much part of the rural Malacca earth that gave him
life. His roots have always been with
him; he never had to look for them. His
Malay, in poetry as well as everyday
speech, is Malaccan in its earthy exuberance.
Hence his protest against the prudish
prettifying of the pantun, that most
“sensuous” poetic vehicle of a vital and “hedonistic” people. And hence his horror at the transformation of
his native tongue into a jargon-ridden monster bristling with bombastic words
borrowed from English. His parody of the grandiose literary-academic style in Transformasi of a Language is one of the
most brilliant items in this book.
This selection of Salleh’s essays and articles
comes seven years after he first burst upon the Malaysian literary scene with
his volume of Poems Sacred and Profane.
Reading (or re-reading) the two
collections side by side has been quite an experience.
The variety is tremendous, as is the
energy, which explodes barriers between East and West, mind and feeling, the
spirit and the flesh, the sacred and the profane. The overwhelming impression is of a free
spirit that rebels against deadening conventions in a passionate celebration of
life.
Adibah Amin
Kuala
Lumpur, Malaysia
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