An old book, over a hundred years old already. Some of the essays have passed from contemporary relevance into historical record, but it is history rarely discussed, from an intimate perspective and the prose hasn’t lost any of its power. Nobody writes like that anymore! The Greeks, the Bible, Shakespeare. The Veil, the valley of the shadow of death, truth with a capital T: his symbols and allusions seem so much more direct and persuasive than the currently popular terms – privilege, identity and so on – of modern academic writing on race.
Perhaps the most illuminating chapter for me was the opening essay on the Reconstruction. I was certainly aware that slaves were promised 40 acres and a mule during the war and this promise was immediately broken. And yet in the haze of what little I was taught about that period, the Reconstruction was a generally positive time when there was significant improvement and upliftment of the formerly enslaved. So what exactly was done for the newly emancipated? It was shocking how familiar it sounded. Level-headed and decent experts close to the issues assessed the problems, forecast the consequences and identified the programs needed. The problems were minimized, what little was accepted was half-funded, what was half-funded was discontinued before it ran its course, and Black people were told to get over it and move forward on their own. And that has been the unchanging script for 150 years. Germany had the Nuremberg trials, South Africa has the Truth and Reconciliation Commission but America never did – never has! – called itself to account for the legacy of slavery. It sounds blindingly obvious to put it that way and yet 107 years ago when Dubois was writing white America was blind to the obvious and here we still are talking about let’s just move on.
By John W Kiser
An enjoyable and easy introduction to an amazing life. The book is strongest in the first third, showing his upbringing and describing Algerian society in that period, and in the last third, when his exile and travels involved him in many important and unexpected events. Meeting Imam Shamil the Chechen Mujahid at the opening of the Suez Canal! The middle third is awful, for obvious reasons. Anti-colonial resistance in the 19th century only went one way. I’m not spoiling anything to tell you that the Emir didn’t defeat the French.
The author is thoughtful and sympathetic toward the Emir but clearly sees his work as a sort of interfaith or intercultural rapprochement. This leads him to make much of a lone righteous Catholic priest’s involvement for example, or to downplay the brutality of the French occupation. In one instance, the reader is first informed of the intentional massacre – live burial – of thousands of unarmed women and children by the French in a footnote! It is admirable that the author doesn’t assign blame or seek a villain and yet “mistakes were made” is an awfully bloodless way to approach a colonial occupation that eventually took the lives of one Algerian in ten. If the goal of the book is to allow a Western, non-muslim audience to overcome their preconceptions and appreciate the Emir as the noble and righteous mujahid he was, it succeeds. But it stops short of giving a full reckoning of the times.
Riding my bike down to the store Middle of the day, in the middle of the heat Who’s got the strength to tap rubber Nothing left to say If I could, I’d be a school teacher Down in Kuala Pilah
Fields of paddy, buffalos all over
Water from the well is so darn cold
Quiet as can be, not a soul around
Nothing left to say
If I could, I’d have some commotion
Like in Tampin town
Cooking up dinner. Village rice
Coconut milk and chili peppers
Don’t have a rice thresher no more
Nothing left to say
Lots of folks got factory jobs
Down Seremban way
Kemang Bay, Four Mile road
Where everybody splashes and plays
Come the weekend sure is packed
Nothing left to say
The sea just keeps getting saltier
Down in Port Dickson town
Verse 1 repeats.
Apo Nak Dikato
by Blues Gang
Poi pokan naik basika Tongah haghi tongah paneh Apo dayo motong gotah Apo nak dikato Kalau boleh nak jadi cikgu sekolah Kek Kolo Pilah
Sawah leba kobau banyak Air pigi sojuk sekali Sunyi sopi takdo oghang Apo nak dikato Kalau boleh nak bising-bising Macam pokan Tampin
Tanak nasik bogheh kampong Masak lomak cili (lado) api Mesen padi takdo lai Apo nak dikato Ramai oghang dah kojo kilang Kek pokan Seghomban
Batu Ompek Toluk Komang Tompek oghang mandi mando Aghi minggu ponoh sosak Apo nak dikato Air laut bertambah masin Kek pokan Port Dickson
A banana leaf wrapped and held with [tooltip text=”coconut rachis” trigger=”hover”]lidis[/tooltip] could hold just about anything. In this case, it holds tapioca root, ubi kayu, that has … crossed over. Normally a dense, bland, starchy tuber considered poverty food or at best home cooking, it is transformed into a pillowy soft sweetness soaking in a fiery liqueur: tapai ubi.
The sweetness of tapai comes from the yeast
Honey from the bee is sweeter by far
Without faith a man is at loss
Like standing deadwood waiting to fall
[/two_first][two_second]
Manis tapai kerana ragi
Lebih manis madu lebah
Tanpa iman manusia rugi
Bak kayu buruk menunggu rebah
Tapai refers to anything fermented with yeast. Cooked rice can become tapai nasi, popular in Sarawak. Glutinous rice, uncooked, becomes tapai pulut, the first step in the production of tuak or rice liquor. Muslims needn’t worry: although C2H6O is chemically present in the tapai, it does not intoxicate even in massive amounts and therefore is not khamr. Discerning the halal and eating it is not something our forefathers needed a chem lab for.
The first pantun suggests the tapai is cooked in the leaf, and I assumed it was, till early one morning at Satok market I found my dealer taking tapai ubi from a large plastic tub under the table. The banana leaf was just marketing! You gotta admit though, a banana leaf is classy packaging. Better that than a little plastic baggie, certainly, and environmentally friendly besides. Sanitary? Well I’m still standing here, ain’t I? Other leaves are also used, like young coconut leaves[1] for tapai nasi, or less commonly, the unidentified swamp leaf below.
The yellow stuff is young coconut shoots.
A nifty little package
Tapai nasi in some sort of keladi leaf
Tapai won’t cook without the yeast, or ragi, a dry crumbly substance sprinkled on top. I’m unsure what species of creature it is or where it comes from and I decline to enquire further. The last pantun suggests mysterious and distant origins and I’ll leave it at that.
The Kuala Lumpur Bird Park was so big and so fun we had to go back again. This year we were less two aunties, but we picked up seven cousins, making for a party of two lone adults riding herd on 14 young people. We only made it to half the park the first time around, and it wasn’t even the better half. We visited the parrot enclosures and the flightless bird paddocks, where they keep the velociraptors. Okay they were cassowaries, but having seen them in the flesh for the first time I wonder why scientists took all those years to make the dinosaurs=birds connection. That sucker was plainly jurassic!
Seek you a companion
Who can be for you a medicine.
Seek you a guru
Who can teach every enemy to you.
Seek you a wife
Who can devote to you her life.
Seek you a friend.
Choose one loyal to the end.
Seek you a servant
Whose manners are decent.
Ini gurindam pasal yang keenam:
Cahari olehmu akan sahabat,
yang boleh dijadikan obat.
Cahari olehmu akan guru,
yang boleh tahukan tiap seteru.
Cahari olehmu akan isteri,
yang boleh menyerahkan diri.
Cahari olehmu akan kawan,
pilih segala orang yang setiawan.
Cahari olehmu akan abdi,
yang ada baik sedikit budi.
Gurindam Dua Belas is a 19th century Malay poem written in rhyming couplets with free meter. It has 12 parts, each dealing with a different pasal, or issue. It was composed by Raja Ali Haji (1808-1873), an intellectual of the Riau-Lingga court best known for his history Tuhfat al-Nafis (the Precious Gift). I’ll be posting my translations pasal by pasal.
Prostrate daily five times in full.
[/two_first][two_second]
Ambil parang di bawah tangga
Kalaulah tumpul asah di batu
Agarlah iman tetap terjaga
Laksanakan solat yang lima waktu
[/two_second]
Gardening in the tropics is a constant battle against the jungle. Being properly armed means carrying a machete. From Brazil to the Congo to the island of Borneo, farmers wield some form of long, sturdy knife for slashing and hacking back the relentless encroaching green. The Malaysian machete is the parang.
Short parang with limewood handle.
Although less well known than the princely kris, the parang is a beautifully designed instrument, preferred throughout the tropics. Special features stand out:
The handle and blade are well balanced opposing curves, forming the shape of an “S”.
The parang is hammered by hand in workshops from superior steel rather than stamped out of sheet metal .
The blade is wedge-like, with a thick back edge giving it excellent heft and a powerful stroke.
A good parang can replace an axe for tree-felling, as in the pantun:
[two_first]
In the cut lies the art of felling
The parang blade afterward is ground
There are limits in the art of ruling
Cross the line and protest resounds.
[/two_first][two_second]
Adat merambah ada tebasnya
Sudah menebas parang diasah
Adat memerintah ada batasnya
Melewati batas orang membantah
[/two_second]
Thick, wedge-like back
An ordinary parang from the hardware store is finished by inserting a hot tang (puting) into a plastic handle (hulu) and sold as a naked blade. You can even buy the blades and plastic handles separately. Relatively lower cost parangs like the one pictured below are exported around the tropics from no-nonsense workshops like this one. The blades can come loose over time, but they are easy to repair. I’ve had the parang below for more than ten years, and I’ve had to reset the handle twice. Just jam an old plastic shopping bag – or as much of one as will fit – into the slot. Heat the tang over the gas stove till red hot. Insert the tang into the slot. The plastic will sizzle and fume, so do it outside. Once it has cooled it’s as good as new.
Ordinary parang with plastic handle
The discerning villager will prefer a more elegant tool. At Hari Raya Korban time, all the men show up with gorgeous heirloom parangs with a wooden sheath (sarong) and wooden handle, secured by a metal band at the hilt. Artisanal parangs like these are not available at the hardware store. In my area, a retired gentlemen produces them right in his driveway. The blades are fashioned from truck leaf springs. A variety of tropical hardwoods are worked into the handles and sheaths. Lime and other fruit trees are popular woods for the handles.
Unfinished parangs at the workshop
The most demanding way to make the sheath is to dig out a solid block of wood with an awl or pick. I’ve never seen one made this way, but the old guys talk about it. Another option is to saw a strip on one edge and dig in from there. I met an old craftsman in Sungai Pergam, Bagan Datoh, who still made some that way, the advantage being the sheath remains an entire piece of wood. It’s a whole lot easier to just cut the block in half and glue the two peices back together afterward. In the picture above, you can see the two sides of the unfinished sheaths held together by a strap. To prevent the two pieces coming apart as the blade is drawn, one piece is slightly deeper than the other, holding a groove that the edge of the blade rests in. Interestingly, there is no attempt to shape the sheath to fit on a belt. Instead, people will simply knot a nylon cord around the sheath and use the cord as a belt. It seems a poor match for such a handsome weapon, but it does get the job done.
[two_first]
Take a care when you fish for mackerel
A parang-fish doesn’t cut your hand
Take care when playing humble
Be not a slave to any man
[/two_first][two_second]
Baik-baik mengail tenggiri
Takut terkena ikan parang
Baik-baik merendah diri
Jangan menjadi hamba orang
[/two_second]
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Anyone interested in ordering a handmade parang can send me a private message.
A conquistador leads a party of 600 into present-day Florida. A decade later, four men from the expedition emerge in Mexico: three Spainards and a black Muslim. This is The Moor’s Account. If it is fiction, it is fiction truer than any American history I got in high school. It’s a story we need so much and nearly had, making the book seem more like the recovery of history than the inventing of it.
Gurindam Dua Belas is a 19th century Malay poem written in rhyming couplets with free meter. It has 12 parts, each dealing with a different pasal, or issue. It was composed by 
