Focus Focus: Flood In My Heart

Mid-June. Normally around this time Malaysia would be experiencing some form of drought, a dry-spell that lingers on until about September, when the haze would usually sail in and choke us. The “around this time” may have fit the scenario two decades ago. Now, it gets so unpredictably wet that KL saw rivers-cum-storm-drains Sg Klang and Sg Gombak burst their banks for the first time since The Actors Studio in Dataran Merdeka closed its doors due to flooding back in 2004.

Hmm. 2004, was it? Why, that wasn't but three years ago. Isn't it strange that it's three years later now but we're still seeing the Dataran basement filled with the creamy rivery goodness on the front pages of our dailies?

“But nay,” some might protest, “this deluge comes but once in three years, brought about by the vagaries of El Nino/La Nina (pick one), and enhanced by the increasingly unstable weather patterns set into motion by global changes to our environment.”

To which I will reply, yes. ‘Tis true that not every day KL sees the murky depths of her twin watery veins spill forth upon her asphalt carriageways, but to think only of this is to completely miss the trees for the forest: We Malaysians don't know how to handle crises with forethought.

Instead, we first approve a RM1.9 billion water-channeling tunnel which was later revealed to be ineffectual without another 200 water retention ponds (many currently incomplete), and later approve a RM100 million budget to repair the capital's drainage system. Hmm. But why didn't we repair the drainage system sooner? And why only now do we see the benefits of  “properly planned drainage systems?” Do we need calamity after calamity to affect social change?

Taking a step back from the receding floodlines, let's take a look at another watermark event in contemporary Malaysian society: the Lina Joy case. Sure, the matter of her religious adherence is of great interest to many parties, and there are those who have fervently made clear their stands on our streets and outside our courthouses.

Yet the responses from these certain loud quarters have been nothing more than puerile emotional gesticulations. The contention seems to be that this episode marks the verge upon which a certain ethnic group is about to unravel, spiralling into a deep, black chasm—from which there’s no return. But really, they're railing against the fracturing of an oft-used motif in this nation's storytelling: the myth of the Princes of the Soil (and inadvertently, what it entails economically). And it’s a painful realisation for these Malaysians: half a century after the birth of this wonderful nation, that such a myth would sooner or later be contested. It was only a question of when, and by whom. Funny that it would be a lady who'd do it (although women have always been the first to get things done in this country).

The worst part of it all is that we've completely lost the point about where our Constitution should be in our Malaysian lives. In handling this crisis, forethought has been sidelined for PR instead; it would not look good to have this kind of “negative” media attention when we're in the middle of celebrating our Golden Anniversary, would it? Plus, we are the halal hub in the region, so what kind of image would that make of us? And all those tourists, what would they say... Oh, and let's not even start to think about the next general elections, now (by the way, if you're 21 or above, have you registered to vote? If not, you can do so with ease at your nearest post office. If you have, do check to see that you're still on the list at http://daftarj.spr.gov.my/daftarbi.asp).

The connection between the two incidents above is that they share a common problem. That problem is power—the power to decide what should be done when we are in crisis, and how. The question is, in a truly democratic country, as Malaysia can only ever aspire to be, who should truly hold the reins of power?

But at the end of it all, the point of this article is this: the easy way out of any crisis is often the most expensive in the long run, because you'll come to realize that it's a tunnel you've gone into with nothing but a dead end up ahead. And if you're not careful, the flood water will rush in and make frogs out of us all.

TEXT FAHMI FADZIL PHOTO SHERMEN MUKHTAR