Recalling Sabah (as Malaysia watches)

About one year ago, I was still in Sabah under the National Service programme. No, don't close your tab yet. This post won't be about the National Service in which I'm seriously done. Yes and true, the programme itself was an unforgettable experience, over many unfathomable reasons. Having the chance to live in Sabah, surely it would be impossible for me not to meddle with the lifestyle of the simplistic Sabahans. Things, unsurprisingly, wouldn't be as simple as you and I could've imagined.

The Land Below the Wind has her own way of showing uncalled expectations.

Kota Kinabalu used to be your idea city. Not anymore. Disappointingly, today, with reasons unknown (and nobody to be blamed for), it's losing its beauty in its own way. My first impression of it was a dark one, acquainted the darkness of late night alongside my feelings of despair and loneliness of having to survive in an extremely alien place all by myself -- for an estimated time of three months. I was stranded at the airport, calling people with my Celcom number and sounded like a desperate cow.

Only a month later when things got much better, my family came to pay me a visit and I've got the chance to see the actual Kota Kinabalu, or Singgah Mata, or Api-Api, or Jesselton. Or simply, KK.

Those were the hard times for me. Ever since then, as far as I can recall, I've got the chance to embrace the city for about two or three times before I return to the Peninsula. Sadly every visit never failed to give me the same impression about KK's unfortunate loss.

Water settlements, or kampung air, filled the shores of the riverbanks and seasides, clustered and scattered, resembling squatter settlements. These kampungs, while looking pleasantly calm and decent during the day, is also notorious for its dark activities as night falls. Failure of proper garbage and sewage systems caused severe pollution to the waters underneath the stilt houses, which lead to other problems such as water quality and health concerns. Could things get any worse?

The opposite Pulau Gaya -- once the British North Borneo post before it was attacked by Mat Salleh and its followers -- is home to hundreds of Filipino and Indonesian immigrants, whose status of whether they're legal or otherwise is unconfirmed.

The once 'Crafts Market' near the waterfront has become the 'Filipino Market', flooded with immigrants indistinguishable from the locals. One can argue of the souvenirs' originality, is it Sabahan, or is it Filipino? And if you're not careful enough, you would be tricked by paying soaring prices for a fake pearl bracelet.

These go side by side with high unemployment rate and rising crime levels in many parts of the city. I guess no locals would've suggested a night stroll by the waterfront. They would suggest you to stay inside of your hotel instead.

There are also some rumors saying that some of these immigrants have even obtained the permanent resident status, thus being nationals of Malaysia. These immigrants sometimes get better education and job opportunities compared to the locals, and suspiciously, are known to be potential 'loyal voters'. Matters regarding this have been a hotly-debated topic, reaching even off the shores of Borneo.

Gone were the days where KK is one of the most pleasant settlements in Borneo.

During my course as a PLKN trainee, I've been given the chance to witness the celebration of Tadau Kaamatan -- the Harvest Festival (see here) -- in a very remote village off Bongawan, a sleepy-hollow town situated in the middle of the road connecting the towns of Papar and Beaufort. I guess it was is one of the most beneficial event in the Nation-Building and Community Service module, no less. It was my first time. I don't know whether it'll be the last.

In this case, we were hosted by those of the ethnic Kadazan-Dusun, the indigenous ethnic which make up the largest community in Sabah. Their languange, however, is identified by UNESCO as one of the most endangered languages in the world. So far nothing has been done to cope with this fact.

The festival which is connected to rice planting and harvesting took place in the middle of a remote oil palm plantation. I remember it was very hot and humid, as if telling that I haven't got enough sunburn, that I need more of it. The bus struggled through the unpaved, dusty road that lead to the remote settlement while things just got bumpier as I strained myself to listen to the music through my cikai (as to avoid theft) MP3 player.

I barely remember where I've put that MP3 player now. However it helped me in avoiding some of the worst music taste dilemma I've ever faced in the three months of my life, and for that I'm thankful.

The place was really horrible. I'm starting to wonder about the possibility of any high-ranking politician from KL would've come there. I remember my estimation was zero percent. I even doubt that the local politician would've come down there if there's no events as such.

But the locals went on with the events -- their much upheld tradition -- without paying much concern to the potholes and puddles, the muddy ground of the venue and the community hall that's poor in ventilation and looked like it would collapse anytime soon. These people were seem to be able to find perfection in imperfection. They took their disadvantages to their advantages. Or so it seems.

Every Sabahan I've met has this talent of being content and thankful with what they've already had in their lives. They won't question much even though they know what is going on. They know that they're not living up to the supposed standards. They know that their brothers and sisters in the Peninsula, even in Sarawak, fared much better than them. But they seem to be always thankful. I'm not sure which type of comfort zone that they've been placed into, because I guess I can't really identify it.

Believe it or not, we're so divided. How could a kid living in the lofts of Damansara identify himself with that chap living in his family's little hut in Kota Belud? Funnily, both are Malaysians. Sometimes, from what I've observed, Malaysian nationalism and patriotism are instilled so forcefully into the hearts of many Sabahans, the fake, rotting side of it are beginning to show.

Journey from KK to Tawau is still taking many motorists ten hours. Is this because of "kami miskin, kami tiada highway macam di Semenanjung," or because of any other explainable reasons? The once beautiful KK is dying out into an urban suicide. Kuching, from what I can recall from my visit in 2001, holds much beauty and splendour if compared with KK, and holds the recognition any inaugurated city deserves.

Maybe I will never be able to understand the heart of Sabahans. But whoever they are, at the surface they are of the cool type, with their open smiles touching up their real-life disparities.

Maybe one day Sabahans will move on, standing side by side with other Malaysians. And the mighty Mount Kinabalu and all her charms will be the eternal witness, whenever that'll happen.

Kadazan-Dusun, Murut, Bajau, Bisaya, Rungus, Brunei, Malay, Chinese, who cares? We're all Malaysians (sic). This is what Sabahans were convinced to believe fourty-three years ago when they joined the newly-formed Federation on September 16, 1963. Can we believe the same thing today?

"Boleh bah, kalau kau."

Listening to: Butterfingers - 1000 Tahun PHOTO banner welcoming guests to the Harvest Festival. Captured May 18, 2007. I was in Sabah from March until May 2007, and was placed in Kem Wawasan, Kg. Ovai, Papar for my PLKN/National Service training. And oh, what's new in Sabah?