Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
It was 7:30 in the morning. The voice from the public address system from afar was instructing the lower form students to assemble for the morning briefings. With my heavy bag on my shoulders and 2 textbooks in my hand, I hurried through the road beside the school sports field, hoping that I would be sitting safely in the classroom before the morning prayer started.
The prayers or recitals were a daily reminder of the special status of Islam in this country. We had them every morning, and sometimes before a lesson, if the teacher who entered the class was a Muslim. Living in a multi-religious society, Malaysians have been taught to respect each other’s religions since young. As students, we were expected to exhibit that respect by standing still for the prayer recitals. In the classroom, students who sat down during the recital were asked to stand up; outside the classroom, students who walked during the morning recital might be stopped by a teacher or stared by people around them.
When I enrolled into this school, I was curious about the rationale behind these frequent prayer recitals. According to a Muslim classmate, they were praying for gaining knowledge and benefiting from the lessons. I thought that was a beautiful, almost poetic cause for prayer, as it signified a student’s sincerity towards learning; however, I felt uncomfortable with the prayer’s undue pressure on students, be they Muslims or non-Muslims, as I believed it was the freedom of religion and belief that needed respect rather than religion itself. As a result, occasionally, I would continue walking even though I heard the prayer, to make a point that respect for a religion should not be forced upon students. I had been stopped by teachers, but sometimes, one whole class’ disapproving eye stares were enough to put my subtle rebellion to a stop. Over the years, I had found a delicate balance between walking in the presence of lenient teachers and stopping at once when the risks were too great.
In front of the staffroom, I could hear the voice of the ustaz (male Islamic religious teacher) from the loudspeaker reciting the morning prayer. After 5 years of secondary schooling, I was again in the same struggle that September morning. Should I stop? Continuing to walk right in front of so many teachers would no longer be seen as an innocuous mischief, but an open challenge to school authority!
The political atmosphere was tense after the 2008 general election. A parliamentarian had been detained without trial after having allegedly complained about the volume of sermons at a Muslim mosque. Given the racial tension, I questioned myself whether it was wise to walk amidst the prayer. For sure, I would be seen as being provocative.
I did not want to offend any sensibilities, but the very act of enforcing “respect” for a religion constituted an infringement upon the freedom of religion. I was aware of the status of Islam as the religion of the federation, yet as a minority it was crucial that I did not blindly waive my right and conform to societal pressure. We had constantly been reminded to respect all religions practiced in this country without an equivalent emphasis given to the freedom of religion. We were scared into our collective memory that if we were to freely exercise the rights enshrined in our constitution we might offend racial and religious sensibilities and put our long paraded peace and harmony at risk. But by giving away those rights, we not only learnt to “respect” religion, but essentially succumbed ourselves to authority. At that moment, I felt the need to liberate myself from the shackles of absurd political discourse normalized by repetitions. I decided to walk.
Just a few steps and Mr Fauzi was already shouting at me.
“HEY!”
I clenched my teeth and continued walking.
“HEY!”
“HEY BOY!”
I really had to stop.
When the prayer was over, I approached Mr Fauzi to clarify the reasons I continued walking despite his yelling. What was intended to be an exchange of opinions turned into mutual shouting. Angrily, he ordered me to go for class.
The aftermath of the incident was not felt immediately; however, I realized its full impact a week later when I discovered that a teacher had spoken badly of me in front of another class. Some teachers were no longer as friendly as before. I was thereafter labeled as the “smart but arrogant kid”.
After the incident, I grew defensive about my conduct at school, fearing that any mistake would further hurt my reputation. I was angry with the school, but also myself for acting impetuously. As a defense mechanism to my internal conflict, I tried to hate the Muslim teachers; however, that became impossible as soon as I thought of those the teachers who had nurtured my growth. How could I hate Mr Zulkifli who had come to my guidance at this hard time, or Ms Nurhaliza who had taught her Accounts class so diligently?
The damage to my relationship with the teachers took months to repair. As the prayer recital was rescheduled to take place during the daily assembly, I was saved the pain of deciding on whether to continue my rebellion or not after the incident. Nevertheless, I doubt if I would have the courage to continue walking even if the situation had remained the same. The ostracism I experienced had taken a significant psychological toll on me. Also, I would be applying to college soon, and I needed the recommendation letters.
The dilemma of walking during the religious prayer was never truly resolved. It opens up more questions regarding tolerance, freedom, and my ethnicity. Would the outcome have been different if there weren’t a language barrier between Mr Fauzi and me? When I thought about the real people I had hurt by my actions, I asked myself, “Is it worth it? Have I done anything wrong?” I couldn’t answer my own questions. This experience has forced me to re-examine the racial and religious identities of Malaysians and brought my understanding of the complexities of racial relations to a new level. (bullshit)
-----------------------------Islam sucks.
2 comments:
next time(if there is next time), just keep walking. it's never consider as rude if u are walking while the prayer is on. i had done it and most of my religious teachers done it, only the mentality of muslim malay that prohibit it. such a bullshit
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