Harumanis to tantalise Japan

THE Harumanis mango may not be easy on the eyes but it has won the taste buds of the Japanese and the fruit is expected to be exported in large quantities to the country, writes SITI NURBAIYAH NADZMI.


  The Harumanis mango does not have the tantalising looks of its peers. Thailand's prized export Nam Dok Mai or waterlily has translucent golden skin and the elegant shape of a lotus petal; India's Alphonso has a plump top and curved nose with a blush of pink over yellow; Mexico's Tommy Atkin ripens to nectar red.
  At the fruit stalls, other local mango varieties, such as the common Sala with its deep green skin and long tapered shape, overshadow the pale green kidney-shaped Harumanis, often blemished with latex burns and dark spots due to poor handling during harvesting and fruit-wrapping.
  But the Harumanis' unrivalled flavour and aroma are wooing Japanese fresh fruit importers.
  Last week, representatives of the importers sampled Harumanis at Ladang Bukit Bintang at Sungai Batu Pahat in Perlis, and the mango connoisseurs gave the thumbs-up for aroma, flavour, texture and sweetness, which recorded a higher reading than other mango cultivars.
  Their verdict is significant: Harumanis will open the gates to the marketing of Malaysian fresh fruits in Japan next year.
  Japan's ambassador to Malaysia, Masahiko Horie, was besotted after his first taste of Harumanis and proposed a gourmet sushi of Perlis' creamy glutinous rice wrapped with thinly sliced Harumanis to be sold in Tokyo.
  Horie says the Harumanis has many plus points for the tropical fruit market in Japan, largely due to its superior aroma and flavour, succulent and non-fibrous flesh and sweetness. But consumers will have to be educated on the mature green fruit. "The general perception over there is that a ripe mango has to have yellow skin. Green means unripe and therefore not sweet."
  Horie stresses that the market is particular on the physical presentation of the fruit. "The skin must not be flawed by spots or latex burn. While it may be natural, the general perception is that the fruit has gone bad."
  Tropical fruit is a growing market in Japan. Total mango imports to Japan last year were 11,000 tonnes, with the largest exporter being Mexico, followed by Philippines, Thailand and Taiwan.
  Before Malaysia can join these players, Harumanis must first pass the stringent import protocols set by Japan; among other things eliminating fruit fly larvae by standard vapour heat treatment (VHT).
  "We are going for the premium quality," says Abdul Razak Shafiai, director of the
Perlis Agriculture Department. Otherwise it will not be cost-efficient. The entire production process has to be improved."
  Compared with other mango varieties, Harumanis is a temperamental fruit. It can only be cultivated in Perlis and Kubang Pasu, a northern district in Kedah, because it needs a four-month-long dry season of at least 40 degrees Celsius to flower and fruit. Rain, even drizzles, during this crucial period will spoil the yield.
  After the fruit is set, it needs to be wrapped in waterproof paper.
"The skin can't withstand rain, but if we use perforated plastic bags, the fruit will sweat and rot," says Razak.
  Precisely eight weeks after wrapping, the fruits must be manually harvested, washed to rinse off residues, treated in hot water for five minutes to eliminate fruit fly and seed weevil larvae, and then individually wrapped again before being placed in a ripening chamber for three days.
  It is a labour-intensive process and there are no shortcuts.
  With Japan showing strong interest in Harumanis, Perlis is hoping to increase its annual yield, which currently stands at 350 tonnes for local consumption.
  The bigger challenge, however, lies in persuading local farmers to apply good agricultural practices. "It is not easy to change the traditional ways," Razak says.
  Harumanis was introduced in 1985, with about 1,300ha cultivated under a special scheme. But after some years, many farmers switched to other commercial crops such as oil palm, rubber and padi.
  The Harumanis acreage dwindled to just 65ha tended by 69 farmers, while the State Agriculture Department has 45ha.
  One of the pioneers, Shahimi Shaari, 40, says his 22-year investment in Harumanis has been profitable even during the worst seasons. His 0.4ha orchard in Kampung Gial has 80 trees and should yield about 13 tonnes of mangoes this year.
  Shahimi admits that Harumanis is more demanding than other crops, but the returns are rewarding. "It does not need replanting and the yield improves with the trees' age," he says.
  "Because of its terminal fruiting nature (where the fruit forms at the ends of branches), we only have to prune the branches."
  During good seasons, one tree can bear up to 300 fruits. With the high demand for Harumanis, Shahimi says, there is never an oversupply.
  The prospect of producing premium quality mangoes for the export market is enticing, and Shahimi is ready to do the necessary for higher volume and value, with guidance from the State Agriculture Department.
  "I am proud that it is a fruit from Perlis that will be the first from this country to break into Japan," he says, "so I will do what it takes to produce export quality Harumanis."

New Straits Times, May 19, 2009

Ruler: Not everything is rosy about Harumanis

LAST week, the Raja of Perlis was upset with three things pertaining to Harumanis: the theft of the fruits, the lack of studies and the low output.
  Tuanku Syed Sirajuddin Putra Syed Jamalullail expressed this in his speech at the closing ceremony of the Harumanis Festival in Kangar and suggested urgent remedies needed to be taken.
  The superior quality of the fruit has attracted Japanese importers to market and promote Harumanis in Japan, provided that it passes stringent import protocols.
  Once the market barriers are lifted, other fruits such as mangosteen, rambutan and papaya may just follow.
  However, other pertinent issues lie within Perlis itself. Theft for one, is rampant, and Tuanku Syed Sirajuddin has described it as an act of treachery to the farmers and the market.
  Unlike other mangoes, Harumanis has to be processed and ripened before it is ready for the market. Without this crucial process, the stolen mangoes would suffer a condition called "insidious fruit rot" or "soft nose", where the fruit looks fine on the outside but is rotten on the
inside.
  Buyers, mostly tourists, would be shortchanged; a few rotten fruit will surely sour the market.
  Since 1985, the Perlis government has tried in vain to push farmers into planting Harumanis, but many felt that Harumanis was not commercially viable.
  A source says that even some agencies were not too keen on Harumanis, resulting in poor technology and marketing support of the product.
  Persistent problems with seed weevils and fruit flies, and the possibility of producing out-of-season fruits, were never addressed or explored.
  The state Agriculture Department had to improve cultivation by trial-and-error, while at the same time selling the fruit over their cafe counter at Ladang Bukit Bintang in Sungai Batu Pahat.
  It took two decades for word to spread about Harumanis.
  During the recent festival, however, the department sold seven tonnes of Harumanis within three hours and the counter had to be closed early.
  In other parts of the country, Harumanis is being sold as a brand and not as a variety, when in reality the fruit has never really left the state.
  Mustaqim Abdullah, 26, who helps run his father's business of processing fruits from private orchards, says there are not enough fruits to be sold in Perlis.
  "Harumanis has never been sold wholesale to retailers outside Perlis," he says.
  "Most people buy and post it to their friends or relatives in Kuala Lumpur and Penang, or as far as Europe and the Middle East."
  Land titles are another issue. Many farmers are cultivating on untitled lands, says Menteri Besar Datuk Seri Md Isa Sabu, hampering efforts in cluster farming.
  Cluster farming, where several farmers plan, manage and process the fruits like a community project, is a proven success in Thailand.
  Three years ago through this method, mango production leapt 300 per cent and doubled in value.
  The ruler's address was a clear indication that Harumanis should be treated as an important commodity, with a strategic plan for its cultivation.

New Straits Times, May 19, 2009

Centring teaching on the student

ALL is not well in the upper secondary history class. The good students are cramming to score As; the weaker ones count the minutes away. They have to at least sit for the compulsory subject, if not pass it, to get a Sijil Pelajaran Menengah certificate.
  Experienced educationists are at a loss on how to get students interested in history.
  Moreover, teachers say, it's simply too idealistic to use history to inculcate patriotism among students, as upheld in the objectives of the National Education Policy and the new integrated curriculum for secondary school (KBSM).
  Lee Sin Lian, 52, of Kuala Terengganu, who has taught history since 1989 at Sekolah Menengah Kebangsaan Teluk Kerang Pontian, thinks the school history syllabus is just too wide, with too many topics to cover.
Teachers and students skim through the subject, rather than take time to examine, discuss and understand history.
  They have just 120 minutes a week to cover the vast span from prehistoric civilisation to modern Malaysia within the two years of Forms Four and Five, before their SPM.
  "The subject should be taught in a student-centred way, where teachers facilitate discussions on the topics," says Lee. "But due to the constraints, we rely heavily on giving lectures and notes."
  More than most subjects, history demands proficiency in Bahasa Malaysia, with the ability to analyse, associate and conclude an argument.
  However, since history became compulsory with the inception of KBSM in 1993, all third formers, regardless of how they did in lower secondary, advance to Form Four. As a result, many lack the aptitude, or even the ability, for the subject.
  "The hard truth is that history has to be taught to students who are uninterested, illiterate, and some can't even string a sentence in Bahasa," Lee says.
  "Teachers are forced to break away from the required teaching method, including using vernacular language to explain history to the students."
  With smarter students, says retired headmistress Mary George, the problem is that their motivation is to simply score straight As.
  George, who taught history for 32 years, says SPM history questions are restrictive and do not allow students to explore the subject.
  The SPM history paper is divided into two parts. The first has 40 multiple choice questions, while the second has four structured questions and three short essay questions.
  "The students struggle to memorise the nitty-gritty facts but do not understand the topic," George says. "In the end although they score A for history, they are unable to grasp the whole idea of learning history."
  The marking scheme reinforces this, she says. "For the structured questions in Paper 2, the students must give specific terms and answer. If they do not memorise these facts they won't be able to answer the question."
  The previous curriculum had only five essay questions, which allowed the students to elaborate on the topic in their own words, on historical fact. "Marks were given on how they use facts to put forward an idea or argument."
  When the Education Ministry revamped the old curriculum, George, a former principal of Convent Johor Baru, was one of the teachers involved with drafting the suggestions.
  "The old curriculum was much more manageable for the teachers to teach and for the students to understand, but when the new curriculum was implemented, I was shocked to see that it was more difficult than the previous curriculum."
  As stated in the history syllabus in 2000, the objective of teaching history is to cultivate and reinforce patriotism among Malaysians, fostering unity through understanding and appreciation of the country's past.
  "But this only looks good on paper," says Lee, a UKM graduate in Malay Literature. "Realistically, these objectives are near impossible to achieve."

New Straits Times, April 18, 2009

Put history back in expert hands

FOLLOWING our package last week on what's being taught as history in the nation's schools, SHERIDAN MAHAVERA and SITI NURBAIYAH NADZMI listen to what historians and teachers have to say.

HERE'S a view of history that is sure to cause some anguish among certain quarters: this country's independence did not come when power and control of Malaysia was handed from the British administration to the people of Malaysia, but when power was handed from the rulers of the Malay states to the people of then Malaya.
  This view of that totemic pass in national history is advanced by the doyen of Malaysian historians, Tan Sri Professor Dr Khoo Kay Kim - but it's not in the school textbooks.
  It's just another example of how the textbooks are not written by experts like Khoo, while those hired to do so are deficient in their understanding of history (see interview on next page).
  Those who decide the content of textbooks do not understand legal concepts such as de facto and de jure, Khoo says, and they have no grounding in the basics of the Constitution.
  "The British often used the law and sometimes broke it when they wanted to interfere with the affairs of the nine Malay states, so one must know how the law works to teach about what went on.
  "The agreements signed between the nine Malay rulers and the British never specified that sovereignty or kedaulatan would be handed over to them.
  "So the sultans were always the de jure (in law) rulers of all their holdings," Khoo said in an interview with the New Straits Times.
  Though the British advisers to the rulers had de facto (actual but not legal) power, the exercise of that power had to be done with the consent of the ruler.
  The sultans, Khoo notes, were absolute rulers who owned practically every inch of real estate in their spheres of influence, and theirs was the prerogative of granting permission to live on, extract riches from and develop these lands.
  Understanding how "rule in law" worked when it came to the relationship among the Europeans, the royal courts, and the waves of immigrants who made up the royal subjects is crucial when teaching school children about the various races that came to settle in Malaysia.
  The narrative in textbooks of natives being dispossessed by foreigners brought in by a "colonial administration" does not hold water when one remembers that the rulers always had de jure power.
  "For instance," Khoo points out, "the assumption is that the Chinese were brought in by the British whose authority superseded that of the ruler. In fact, the Chinese were brought in by Chinese towkays with the permission of the ruler."
  Khoo does not have a problem with how history is revised in school texts to create a "Malaysianised" point of view, instead of the Eurocentric one that prevailed in the 1950s. "What is wrong is when you write and ignore historic facts," he says.
  "The problem now is that if something in the Eurocentric view was black, it automatically becomes white in the so-called Malaysianised view. You must have proof to back something up."
  Another example is how the textbooks say the British practised a "divide and rule policy", which ensured the communities were segregated, to breed suspicion and hostility among the races.
  "There was no such policy by the British, and I challenge those who disagree to show me the proof.
  "In fact, they tried to get the Malays, Chinese and Indians to integrate. It was the races who refused to do so."
  Khoo laments that many textbook writers and history teachers these days have not even seen primary documents, such as the treaties signed between the British and Malay rulers.
  As last week's NST report on history illustrated ("Whose story is our history?" - April 11), there is an underlying presumption throughout much of the textbooks that non-Malays are not as patriotic as Malays.
  Professor Dr Mansor Mohd Noor of Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia has been researching inter-ethnic relations for years. His findings suggest that this erroneous presumption is widespread in Malaysian society.
  "The Chinese are usually blamed for not being patriotic, but in reality the feelings of patriotism among them are just as high as the Malays," he says.
  "Patriotism is not based on ethnicity."
  The teaching of history, Mansor says, must be inclusive and move beyond ethnic calculations and toxic assumptions, such as whether one community is more "patriotic" than another.
  Most importantly, says Khoo, it must be put back in the hands of experts.

New Straits Times, April 18, 2009

Whose story is our history?

AT last month's Umno general assembly, incoming party vice-president Datuk Seri Hishammuddin Hussein floated the prospect of revisiting how history is taught in the nation's schools. The suggestion immediately raised eyebrows among Umno's partners-in-governance, with the MCA pledging to convene a conference on the matter. CHOK SUAT LING, SHERIDAN MAHAVERA, SITI NURBAIYAH NADZMI and YONG HUEY JIUN explore what may have fallen through the cracks of this country's historical mosaic as it is presented in the school curriculum.  

What can and what can't be found in school history textbooks has been a source of concern for many years.  

Besides omissions and insufficient emphasis on certain communities, experts and parents alike contend that some of the text and illustrations in history textbooks are placed there to subtly brainwash young minds.  

Some of these elements contain politically-aligned and narrow views that can skew students' impressions of historical events and their impact on the country and its communities.  

While school history textbooks now make a clear push for a national culture and society, are more comprehensive, and encourage students to be more analytical than in the past, when they were required to merely regurgitate facts and dates for examinations, certain elements in the texts must be reviewed.  

In the Form Three textbook, for example, the contentious term "ketuanan Melayu", or "Malay supremacy", appears with a definition deemed inappropriate. Some quarters argue that the phrase should not have been included in the textbook in the first place.  

In the same textbook, one illustration gives the impression that vernacular schools cannot promote national unity, and a paragraph on the same page states that vernacular schools will progressively be phased out.  

Also in the Form Three text, specifically in the chapter on cooperation among the races towards independence, the quote used to illustrate the theme states that the country belongs to the Malays and should, therefore, be returned to them.  

These are just some of the elements that have found their way into history textbooks under the secondary school integrated curriculum (Kurikulum Bersepadu Sekolah Menengah).  

Former Kelana Jaya member of parliament Loh Seng Kok thinks too much focus is given to Tamadun Islam, or Islamic Civilisation. "There was only one chapter in the old Form Four history textbook, but now five out of 10 are on this subject matter," said Loh, who carried out a study on history textbooks two years ago.  

Loh, along with his MCA colleagues, submitted a memorandum to the Education Ministry pursuant to that study.  

What has also been noted is the downplaying of the roles played by Chinese and Indian communities in the socio-economic development of the country.  

Some quarters also take exception to the Chinese clans, the Ghee Hin and Hai San, which played so pivotal a role in the advent of colonial administration in the Malay states, being described as kongsi gelap or secret societies, abiding by the old British proscriptions on these organisations.  

Specific historical figures such as Gurchan Singh, the "Lion of Malaya", and Sybil Karthigesu have all but vanished from the record. Both resisted the Japanese during the occupation of Malaya in World War 2 and paid the price for it. They used to get some mention, but have since disappeared from the pages of our history.  

The key historical roles played by prominent figures from Sabah and Sarawak also merit little or no mention beyond "a line or two".  

All Malaysian communities have their role in the story of how this nation came to be what it is today, and history texts need to reflect this shared ownership. Questions of ethnic relations in history must be discussed in scrupulously neutral language, without judgments of right or wrong.  

A review would, indeed, be timely, but it must be collective, consultative and knowledge-based, not driven by emotion or political imperatives.  


FROM MURDERER TO NATIONALIST  
CLAD in a dark shirt and white trousers, Rosli Dhobi held his head high in defiance as he was led to the gallows.  

The member of Rukun Tiga Belas, a secret underground movement agitating against the British administration in Sarawak, had been sentenced to hang for stabbing the governor to death.  

Deemed a common criminal, Rosli was too insignificant to be mentioned in any history - until the secondary school integrated curriculum (Kurikulum Bersepadu Sekolah Menengah) immortalised him as a nationalist in the Form Three and Form Five textbooks.  

Are the facts presented in KBSM history textbooks historical truths or impressions?  

"Historical facts are one thing but interpretation of facts is another," says historian Prof Datuk Dr Ramlah Adam. "Politicians prefer the latter."  
Ramlah says that the history syllabus was drafted on the records of explorers and philosophers such as Tome Pires, Ibn Battuta, I-Ching and Admiral Cheng Ho, and writings such as Sejarah Melayu, the Malay annals.  

"Could we erase any part of our history and pretend they did not happen? Or choose what we like and leave out the rest?"   Politicians may have their own interpretations of events, Ramlah says, but they are usually shaped by their own interests.

"Let the schoolchildren be educated by the professionals."   Ramlah, an author of history textbooks, says the previous curriculum reflected some of the old imperial didacticism towards historical facts: rebels were rebels, for instance, not freedom fighters.

Under KBSM, "history is given a Malaysian perspective and the syllabus is designed to fulfil the National Education Policy".  

The policy, drafted in 1990, outlines the effort to develop a citizenry that is "knowledgeable, reliable and responsible", contributing to the harmony and prosperity of society and nation.  

The history curriculum is divided into two parts. The lower secondary component covers prehistory till the separation of Singapore from Malaysia in 1965, while the upper secondary introduces the history of the world and Southeast Asia, from the birth of nationalism till modern Malaysia.  

While the lower-secondary component is chronological and factual, upper secondary students receive an analytical and critical survey of history.   History is a compulsory subject for the Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia, but Ramlah says not enough weight is given to it: a pass is not necessary.  

"History should require a pass, just like Bahasa Malaysia, English and Mathematics. With such weight, students would strive to understand the country's history better."  

Poet Datuk Baharuddin Zainal, a.k.a. Baha Zain, agrees. "If the government is serious about creating a nation-state and sowing the seeds of patriotism among the young," he says, "it is essential to make it compulsory for the students to pass history in SPM."  

Baharuddin suggests that the Education Ministry review the history syllabus in line with the National Education Policy.

"There is no point in revising the syllabus just to meet political pressures. It must be done after a comprehensive study.   "Too many times the professionals and educationists have trusted political leaders to make judgment calls. Sadly, some of them have been unwise."  


INTERPRETING THE ROLES OF NON-MALAY MALAYSIANS  
IN the 1930s, the British administration faced fierce opposition from the working class, largely made up of Chinese at the time, says Dr Kua Kia Soong, director of Suara Rakyat Malaysia (Suaram), a human rights organisation.   In one of the first shots at inter-ethnic political alliance, Pusat Tenaga Rakyat (Putera), a left-wing coalition of militant and moderate Malays, partnered with the Chinese-dominated All Malaya Council of Joint Action. In October 1947, the coalition organised a general strike - a "hartal" - that brought the country to an economic standstill to put pressure on the British government.  

The Japanese Occupation in 1941 was met with fierce resistance from local nationalists. The British had supplied arms to the Malayan People's Anti-Japanese Army (MPAJA) - in effect, the CPM - making it the most potent anti-Japanese guerilla movement and well-organised military group in the country, writes Wong Tze Ken, associate professor in the Department of History, Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences at the University of Malaya, in the first volume of the book, Malaysian Chinese and Nation Building.  

The move gave MPAJA an edge, and the means, to wage war against the British after the Japanese surrender in 1945.  

"The CPM ideology and struggle had no place in the nation-building agenda as it eventually became irrelevant as the country moved ahead after independence," says Wong.  

Prof Tan Sri Khoo Kay Kim agrees, as the vision of communism was one of classlessness and statelessness.  

Under the gaze of a different generation, the joining of forces between the Malayan Chinese Association and the United Malays National Organisation - the Alliance Party - for the 1952 Kuala Lumpur municipal elections spearheaded the country's seminal independence movement. The Alliance scored a landslide victory, winning nine of the 12 seats contested.   That solidarity was a turning point, says Khoo. For the first time, the Alliance convinced the British that independence might actually work.  

Dr Voon Phin Keong, director of the Centre for Malaysian Chinese Studies, thinks the subject of history is best left to the historians or specialists in the area. "It should not be left to just anyone. School history textbooks should be written by a panel of historians and subjected to review by a different panel."  

Kua thinks textbooks are not needed in the age of the Internet. Instead, students should learn to access all available resources with the teacher acting as the facilitator in the classroom. "History in education is about uncovering the truth," says Kua.  

And truth, as we all know, is subject to interpretation.  


ONE NATION SHARED AMONG MANY PEOPLES  
YEARS ago, when lawyer G.A. David Dass taught at Universiti Institut Teknologi Mara, he would be approached by students who would evince surprise that he was genuinely interested in teaching them and had no motives other than ensuring they understood the material.  

He ventures that this was because they had been "conditioned into believing that non-Malays were not to be trusted and that our presence in Malaysia meant that they were taking something away from the Malays".  

Dass believes that most non-Malay lecturers at UiTM have had similar experiences, in an example of how Malaysian history and how it is taught in schools - and how it can be manipulated by politicians - can graft lasting impressions on young minds that determine how they relate to others of a different community.  

For years, Dass says, the non-Malay history in Malaysia had been framed by an ethnocentric elite as a story of how the Malays had "lost out", "been dispossessed" and "subjugated" by "bangsa asing" or "foreign races".  

This narrative presumes that Malaya was "conquered" (dijajah) by Europeans eager to exploit its natural riches.   Control over who came into the land was out of Malay hands, and the penjajah allowed bangsa asing to enter and build their tin mines and rubber estates, while the Malays watched by the wayside in their villages.  

Such a telling of history is warped, erroneous and, when it comes to the Indian experience in pre-independence Malaya, disingenuous.  

It overlooks the contribution of Indians to local customs, culture, arts and governance. It ignores the fact that for 80 per cent of the Indians who came to Malaya in the 19th and early 20th centuries, their lives were shackled in deprivation and hard labour.  

"How did thousands of mostly Tamil indentured labourers, who were paid pitiful wages and who toiled under the most back-breaking circumstances to open up plantations and build roads, dispossess the Malays?" asks Dass, who co-authored the book Malaysian Indians: Looking Forward.  

Though the history of Indian contact with the peoples of Peninsular Malaysia between the 1st and 11th centuries is mentioned in school textbooks, its influence on Malay culture has been played down.  

It is almost as if it is an embarrassment, says U.K. Menon, deputy vice-chancellor of Wawasan Open University, to acknowledge the extensive traces Indians left on local pre-Islamic culture which can still be seen.  

In The Malaysian Indians: History, Problems and Future, the late Muzafar Desmond Tate wrote of how Brahmin priests and Buddhist missionaries gave Malay chieftains the organisational system that would transform them into the kings of today.  

But, Muzafar stressed, the early Indians' influence was not manifested in force of arms or large-scale migration.  

When it comes to the later migration of Tamils, Telugus, Malayalees, Sikhs and Bengalis, there is a begrudging acceptance of their presence, notes Dass.  

"They were not a colonising force to subjugate or rob the Malays. Many lives were lost in opening up these plantations and towns, and these Indians were indentured to the Europeans who brought them in. The point is to recognise each community's sacrifices that went into this great nation.  

"Our founding fathers knew this was integral to nation-building."   His co-author, Jayanath Appudurai, says that the problem with how history is taught today is that it is seen through the lens of only one community.  

"But the record shows that the peninsula was in a strategic position that attracted everyone from different regions of the world to converge and set up their own settlements here."  

To acknowledge the various influences that went into creating what is now Malaysia is not to prop up one race or culture over another, Jayanath says.

"It is not about the Indians being superior to the Malays or the Chinese being better than everyone else. It is about recognising the multi-ethnicity that has always been and continues to be present in the peninsula.  

"It is about seeing Malaysia as a nation, not of a single ethnicity, but one of shared membership among many."

A `horror' story that had `em laughing

AT 8am on March 4 in Khartoum, televisions blared with an international news channel screaming "Horror In Darfur".
  It updated on the conflict there with a montage of a dazed toddler with flies in her eyes and a crowd scrambling for food dropped off a plane on a field.
  A Ugandan journalist watching the telecast slapped his knee and guffawed: "Oiyy! That was south Sudan!" His peers from other African countries broke into cynical smiles or shook their heads in disbelief.
  A stream of curses in Swahili, English and Arabic flowed into the hotel lobby, discrediting the popular news channel watched by millions world over.
  At 4pm on the same day, at the Afra shopping mall in Khartoum, sales assistant Aina stormed off after watching TV coverage of the International Criminal Court issuing a warrant of arrest on Sudanese President Omar Hassan Al-Bashir. Ethiopian co-worker Julius called out to her in Arabic: "Ma musykil (it was nothing). They can't do anything to him."
  Aina retorted: "What do you care, huh? This is my country!"
  Gobsmacked Julius knew, as a migrant, that his family back home depended on the salary he earned in Khartoum. A politically stable Sudan ensured comfort and food for him and thousands of others like him.
  Bashir was not without motive when his government flew in 70 journalists from Arab League countries, the African Union, Japan, China and Malaysia to witness the inauguration of Merowe Dam just a day before the ICC announcement.
  The foreign journalists were unwittingly thrown into a whirlpool of unfolding events and street protests, from Bashir's nationwide rally from the President's Palace to North Darfur, to a live 90-minute unedited nationwide broadcast of a press conference at which vice-president Ali Othman Muhammad Taha said the country had had enough of the Western media's "distortions" of the Darfur situation.
  The ICC was condemned as "a tool of the West" intent on removing the elected president and installing a puppet leader so as to have unlimited access to mineral-rich Sudan.
  Ali said Sudan would "stop at nothing to fend off the neo-colonialist exploit", with the support of its allies.
  In Khartoum's Friendship Hall, some 300 journalists, mostly from African and Middle Eastern countries, hurled torrents of questions while six interpreters translated the proceedings into English, French and Arabic.
  The air smelled of fear. All the questions could be summed up in one intense note: What is to become of us?
  Three days later, tens of thousands thronged the streets of Al-Fasher on foot, donkeys, horses and camels, and in vans, buses and trucks, to catch the president at the town's square.
  One the way back to the airport, the president made a stop at the camps of displaced people. The residents lined the streets to shake hands with him. Genocide? War Crimes? Would the victims offer politeness in exchange for atrocities committed by their own leader?
  Millenniums ago, Darfur was an important link between Africa and the Middle East. The arrival of Khalid Al-Walid's armies during the Ar-Rashidin Caliphate marked the dawn of Islam here.
  As the Darfur sultanate embraced the religion, Arabic became the official language and the Quran the essential academic and holy text. The Darfur sultans offered silk and gold kiswah (cloth) to cover the Ka'aba during Haj seasons, and trade flourished in the region.
  Darfur, an area about the size of France occupying a fifth of Sudan, had observed zakat and haj centuries before Parameswara repeated the shahadah in Malacca. To describe Darfur as lawless and tribal, therefore, was quite ignorant.
  Contrary to the common perception that the Darfur people were helpless, if not doomed, without the help of charity organisations, the region is actually self-sustaining. Three months of rain a year is enough to irrigate the fertile land to supply Sudan with grain, vegetables, fruit and livestock.
  The 250,000 displaced people living in Nyala and Al-Fasher camps are not immobile mannequins but human beings with the will and means to live. They get fresh unchlorinated water from the wells, as they had in their home villages, and the children had white teeth, taut skin and healthy nails.
  Malnutrition?
  Darfur in conflict is "a big pot of money" to many, as a Tunisian journalist said: "People do charity to make themselves feel good."
  How much exactly poured into the funds of the 117 international charity organisations in Darfur since 2003?
  Multiple millions, perhaps, but why was the International Rescue Committee health centre so basic that it did not even have proper mud brick walls, let alone clean sheets?
  One of these organisations had admitted to Sudan's government that they had made a pact with the ICC to provide information and witnesses to prosecute the president. For this, they had apologised.
  Others had sold distorted images of Darfur people to raise more funds for their organisations.
  As we invited journalists watched the newscaster wrap up the "Horror In Darfur" broadcast, a Kenyan journalist remarked: "A minute more on Darfur, a minute less on Gaza."

New Straits Times, March 22, 2009

The dust never settles in Darfur

SUDAN is making attempts to get its economy moving to make a difference in the lives of its citizens and the thousands displaced by the Darfur conflict. SITI NURBAIYAH NADZMI was in Sudan for the opening of the RM6.6 billion Merowe High Dam across the Nile at the same time the International Criminal Court was seeking to arrest the country's head of state.


  The dust never really settled in Darfur. It was part of the climate, but when it did, the sunflowers in the tiny garden of a mud house in Abu Shouk camp swayed regally under a cloudless azure sky.
  Khadijah Ibrahim, 54, tended to her prized sunflowers in the little compound of her house, while Al-Fateh Hassan, the youngest son of her husband's second wife, played among the towering flowers.
  Tucked within the maze of narrow passages where 50,000 displaced people now live, Khadijah had long accepted that this was her life now, and she would not waste her time thinking otherwise.
  When war broke out in Darfur six years ago, the camp housed about 83,000 people from the villages surrounding Al-Fasher, the capital of north Darfur, including Tawila, Kakabiya, Kuttum and Jebel Marak, bordering west Darfur.
  Many have returned to their villages in the past year, but others have chosen to rebuild their lives here. The mechanics run workshops, the teachers teach, the professionals go where the projects take them.
  But it's the farmers who miss their land the most. Adjusting has not been easy for Khadijah's husband, Hassan Abdal Bakhur, 70. "I have nothing to do here," he said.
  Hassan was from Tawila, some 130km from Al-Fasher. He used to have 17 goats and five donkeys and cultivated grain, vegetables and tobacco on his land, but all was lost to the "mountain robbers".
  ("Robbers, not rebels," he stressed.)
  Since time immemorial, Hassan said, the "mountain robbers", or Jenjawid, have pillaged and robbed the people of Darfur, but they had always lacked weapons. Tawila became a killing field when the robbers acquired guns and waged war on both villagers and government forces.
  Hassan now lives in Abu Shouk camp with his wives Khadijah and Hawa Ishak Mukmin, 38, and their 19 children and 23 grandchildren. His children all survived the fighting, Hassan reasoned, because they had evacuated the village early.
  "The village is a lot safer now," Hassan said. "Hopefully, the
government will chase away the robbers for good."
  Two of his sons had returned to Tawila to work on the family's land.
"Better to work and get money than wait for help," Hassan said, referring to the special food allowance given by the government and aid agencies.
  Since the Sudan government's recent expulsion of international aid agencies, allegedly for spying, the primary healthcare centre at the camp had lost its volunteer doctors.
  Insaf Ibrahim, 25, who used to work with the International Rescue Committee as house visitor at the camp, said the gap should be filled immediately by the Health Ministry. "It is vital to maintain the people's health in the camp," she said.
  In such a concentrated population, any outbreak of disease could easily reach epidemic proportions and be difficult to control - but Insaf is most concerned with basic hygiene. Her job requires her to visit camp residents to talk to them about health and basic cleanliness.
  Insaf's own kitchen was basic but immaculately clean: a cotton dustcloth spread over plates and glasses; pots and pans and cooking utensils lining the wall; the wood stove without ash.
  Insaf's wages from the IRC weren't much, but when the organisation left, she lost crucial income for her household.
  Her husband, Muhamad Musa Abu Bakar, 30, teaches English at a secondary school in Al-Fasher. He is critical of the charity workers who he believes came to camps with hidden agendas. "Some of them tried to exchange our Quran with the Bible by offering us money," he said.
  "It was insulting. If they were sincere in their efforts to help us, they would not have asked us to convert to another religion."
  His anger was shared by Ibrahim Al Khaled Sheikh Adid, the director of the camp's Interning Displaced People programme, who said residents had complained of missionary activities by certain aid organisations.
  "We have evidence that some of them distributed Bibles as part of their charity work," Ibrahim said. "Darfur is 100 per cent Muslim and their act was clearly insensitive and insolent to the people in the camp."
  Al-Fasher Hospital director Dr Nor Aldeen Mobarak El Noor said Sudan's health ministry had recently dispatched doctors to the camps. There are three hospitals, four clinics and a specialist centre in Al-Fasher, providing health services to the three camps, Abu Shouk, Assalam and Zam Zam.
  "Within a year," Nor Aldeen said, "the government plans to completely take over the health centre from all international charity organisations in the camps."
  More than 4,300 babies were delivered in Abu Shouk last year, with only 300 cases referred to the hospital, and 15 stillborn.
  Mohamed Al Said Khayyam, a medical assistant at Abu Shouk Primary Healthcare Centre, said there had been significant improvements in the general health due to increased awareness of hygiene, but the growing amount of rubbish in the area, especially around the marketplace, was creating another health hazard.
  Outside their homes, children untouched by fear of disease or strangers played freely. Some chased the donkeys carting fresh water from the hand-pumped wells in the camp.
  Troops were still on alert outside the camps, but on the streets, life was abuzz: peddlers trading handwoven baskets, kettles on the boil at the tea stalls, cobblers stitching snakeskin into loafers, electronic shops stocking digital cameras and other gadgets.
  It has been months since Al-Fasher or Nyala in south Darfur were attacked by armed bandits. As the sunflowers swayed in the desert under the baking sun, Khadijah remained hopeful that one day, she would return to her village.
  For now, she was content to watch her tiny garden grow.

New Straits Times, March 22, 2009