There are all sorts of people I have met. Those who I remember most are those who have something interesting to contribute be it bad or good. Yes, when I was in Trinity, I remember distinctively this girl from my Literature class. I remember her name and I remember her mannerisms. Heck, I even remember her handwriting. Was she a good friend of mine? Far from it. I vowed I would keep my temper. I have a terrible one. No good to unleash it on innocent beings. But this girl, was asking too much.
Where did she come from? KL. Nothing against all other KL people I don't know. For those I know save one or two, sorry to say, they never deterred my feelings for these people.
Today I read an article on Malaysiakini, written by Sim Kwang Yang. This gentlemen is from Sarawak and writes about KL culture. Well Lit girl, this is my end of the argument we had in class. Make your people proud :) Cheers!
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"A country bumpkin's impression of KL (Part 2)"
Sim Kwang Yang
For the first-time or casual visitors from the far flung states of Malaysia, especially from Sabah and Sarawak, Kuala Lumpur is an intimidating, unforgiving, and extremely hostile city.
There are huge bill-boards in the city planted at strategic road intersections that say: Sayangilah Kuala Lumpur (Love KL!). The fact that the local authorities deem it necessary to call on city dwellers to love their city shows inadvertently how unlovely and unloved the city is.
The physical ambience at the city centre itself is claustrophobic. Land prices must be exorbitant. Perhaps, a master development plan has never existed. All the ultra-modern high-rises and the old dilapidated shop houses are pinched together without any concern for aesthetics or the harmony required for a pleasant human habitat.
Living and working in it, you feel like being closed in on all sides. The few trees that survive mindless land development have been zealously cut down by city hall officials, to prevent them from falling down on cars and people during storms and destroying electric and telephone wires. As usual, people in the labyrinth of our monolithic officialdom have never heard of the concept of maintenance.
Because of the monstrous congestion, a short car journey from point A to point B that would take a pedestrian 15 minutes to walk through at a brisk pace would take an hour on wheels! The one-way street and the numerous detours will make sure that driving in the city is an experience of Hell itself. Add to this, the traffic lights that never seem to change, the lack of parking space, the public transport system that works in stranger ways than God himself, and you can be sure that first time visitors find themselves completely immoveable!
One could resort to walking of course. To walk on the streets of KL though, is more hazardous and more uncomfortable than to trek through the unknown virgin forest of Borneo.
The attractive stretch of walkway from Marriot Hotel to Federal Hotel is the only exception to the rule that pedestrians are not welcome in the city. Other KL sidewalks are inevitably narrow, badly maintained, full of dangerous gaps and holes, with a dangerously deep, filthy, foul smelling storm rain running the length of the sidewalk. More often than not, you find telephone or electric poles in the middle of the sidewalk, or else a tree will be planted.
Naturally, those people in City Hall have never thought about building sunshades over the pedestrian walkways. The thought of torturing millions of tourists and locals alike sweating and puffing profusely under the notorious KL sky must have been one of their fringe benefits on the job.
The greatest menace to the health and well-being of KL pedestrians must be the notorious motorists and motor-cyclists though. For them, the yellow traffic light means an urgent compulsion to accelerate to top speed within the shortest possible time. The red light means a temptation to break the traffic code without being caught.
Deafening noise
The zebra lines either become transparent to them, or they pose as a challenge to kill someone stupid enough to want to move around on foot. The car horn is no longer a mere traffic implement, but an instrument of self-expression, of deeply felt contempt and fury at every other person on earth who happen to share the same road in KL.
To add to the confusion of our first-time visitor to the Big Durian, the noise is deafening.
Of course, KL people never hear anything. They have developed a special survival gear in their mind. They can switch off the part of the brain responsible for hearing, while keeping their ears open. That way, they are oblivious to the sound and fury of the city, and to the noise pollution that they themselves produce.
For our visitors from a more sedate atmosphere outstation though, KL city centre is a deafening explosion of super-decibels emitting from a thousand sources. There is always some kind of giant construction project going on day and night, and the endless procession of trucks and the cement machines provide a perennial backdrop to the entire din of the city.
Then there is the blaring music broadcast to the public space by countless shops. The worst offenders are the fashion shops that somehow delight in extremely discordant hip-hop noises. Then, there are the mamak shops that must display the prowess of some Indian lady singer. When all else fails, there is always the stupid Malay pop music played at full blast in all shopping outlets.
I have since formulated a theory to explain why music in KL public places is so infantile. After all, not all tourists and visitors are that young. Then I realise that shops play this sort of music not to amuse customers, but the young staff working in these premises.
That is my point really. No matter how alienating the KL physical environment is to outsiders unfamiliar with the crazy code of behaviour in the city, nothing is more alienating than the KL people themselves. They alienate one another much more than alienate outsiders.
They (or should I say “we”?) are a peculiar tribe. To any out-of-towner, KL people walk and move so fast. Nowhere is this behaviour more obvious than on Bukit Bintang. They are always in a hurry to get somewhere. They have lost the innocence of a slow enjoyable promenade, a slow stroll to take in the surrounding and the people.
When I first arrived here to stay, I never ceased to be amazed at this KL walk pace. The people just charged at me in wave after wave, none ready to step aside for me. I could not proceed ten meters without stepping aside for others a dozen times, or risk running head-long into this swift current of human bodies. On the odd occasions when a slight brushing of the shoulders was unavoidable, I was always accorded a dirty look, as if I was always in the wrong.
Sometimes, a family of 3 to 5 would walk abreast, thereby forming a moving human wall sweeping every thing aside in its path. Naturally, I should not complain any more because I have mastered this “KL walk”, and can slice a clear path through this wall like hot knife through butter. The secret is to walk directly and resolutely towards the weakest link of this advancing wall, a small child perhaps, or a young lady or two. It works like a charm. The Art of War by Sun Tze has triumphed again in KL.
Unique social milieu
Then KL people talk so loudly. They also talk at break-neck speed. Sitting at a roadside café is always a leisurely and enjoyable experience anywhere in the world. On Bukit Bintang though, you are more likely to be assaulted from all the tables around you by a thousand business deals and bits of personal gossip. When that happens, a question always arises in my mind: with everyone talking at the same time at the top of their voice, who is doing the listening? What we have here is a problem of communication. KL people must be very lonely.
Out-of-towners from remote provinces must find themselves completely alienated after shopping for a short spell in KL. At home, whenever you do your shopping, you are likely to exchange greetings with the shop-keepers or their assistants. You would have known them somewhat in a small town anyway.
In KL, you are lucky if you can get a shop assistant to do the actual job of assisting customers. Old and young, the sales personnel wear their KL visage well, resentful, haughty, totally uninterested in their customers as human individuals.
Naturally, those who are well-trained on the frontline of tourism by their management will be courteous. But you get the instinctive feeling that their smile is somehow quite plastic, and that all their fast glib KL talk is aimed at making you part with your hard-earned cash as quickly as possible. God help you if you need any after-sales service.
Those new comers who have come to KL and stayed on to work will gradually acclimatise themselves to this unique social milieu, especially when they also begin to exhibit all the above city behaviour pattern. They will also begin to understand why KL people behave as they do.
The city is too congested, too harassing, and too stressful. Their feeling of time and space is distorted. Nobody has time for anybody else. Either you get ahead, or you get left behind. No quarter is given, and none is taken. The ideal state for KL resident is this: you do not own people money, and you do not lend any either. It is just the way things are. If you cannot take the heat, get out of the kitchen. To forgive others in KL to is forgive yourself as well.
For the occasional domestic tourist from remote parts of Malaysia though, KL is still a city of glittering lights and seductive promises. It does have the charm and enigma of a brothel. You visit a brothel once in a while, if you have the inclination, but you do not have to live in one.
I hope my little observation of KL from the outside looking in will not deter domestic tourism. KL is very much worth a visit, especially if you are armed with a lot of cash. If nothing else, it will make your homecoming seem so much sweeter.
As for me, I am just passing through.
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There are advantages to the city. I love getting books there. It's a book heavan! Other than that, get me outta here! I cannot imagine working there someday. But for my area of profession, it is inevitable if I do eventually plan to return home. Help!
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