Back on the Peninsula

Wesley Methodist Church - Seremban, Malaysia

I’m now one step closer to home. This morning, after another al fresco breakfast in Miri, I flew to Kuala Lumpur on the Malay Peninsula or Mainland. The slower pace of Sarawak gave way to the bustle of a city of seven million.

The Malay Peninsula possesses a different kind of diversity than Borneo. Here, the presence of the majority Malay population is much stronger. Mosques in various styles dot the horizon. As we came south from KL to Seremban, the presence of the south Indian Tamils became more apparent. In the modest city of Seremban, many businesses in the city center are Tamil owned and form a kind of “little India.” Tamils’ roots in Malaysia go deep, dating to the height of the British Empire, when many came to what was then known as British Malaya to work on the rubber plantations. The rubber trees themselves were imported from Brazil. It was one of several historic waves of globalization, the same British Imperial wave that carried many Malays to the Cape Town area of South Africa.

Downtown Seremban remains a bustling place, with hundreds of small shops signed in some combination of Chinese, English, Malay, and Tamil. Restaurants cater to dozens of different ethnic tastes. So far, I’ve seen four churches (two rather imposing structures for the Catholics and Methodists, with two others for the Adventists and Assemblies of God), two Hindu temples, and several mosques in various architectural styles.

Masjid Jamek/Jamek Mosque - Seremban

Meetings continue to confirm the complex interethnic dance that in many ways defines this country. My neighbor at dinner tonight recounted that his family speaks a Hokkien dialect of Chinese in the home, his primary schooling was in Mandarin, his secondary schooling in Malay, and his university education in a mixture of Malay and English. Dramatic shifts in the country’s education system, especially regarding the language of instruction, have left whole generations more comfortable in either Malay or English. This of course presents great challenges for those seeking to lead higher education institutions. I enjoyed a couple of hours with the faculty of a seminary here today talking about a whole host of issues relating to theological education.

Hindu Temple - Seremban

Sometimes it’s nice to pretend that the world in which we live is a simple place, with nice, neat lines on the map that divide nation from nation, religion from religion, and worldview from worldview. But the real world is not that simple. The world we live in today is one that is deeply mixed, and has been for a long time. As I travel, I’m always struck by the fact that, although cultures and societies are very different, there is much that is fundamentally human. As I watched a young couple (probably in their early 20s at most) trying to shush and comfort their boisterous two-year-old during a church service earlier this week, it was the same scene that played out many times in our family’s pew in Indianapolis or Grand Rapids. The shared enjoyment of meat cooked over a good charcoal fire in Sarawak wasn’t all that different from a Midwestern barbeque in Ohio. The questions about what it means to be a good theological teacher are remarkably similar, regardless of whether the conversation is taking place in Kuala Lumpur, Kathmandu, Caracas, or Krakow. Without bursting into an overly idealistic ode to human unity or pretending that differences don't matter, I’m reminded again that 1) we're all on this thing called earth together and 2) we have an awful lot in common. 

Eating in East Malaysia

A typical open-air restaurant in Sarawak

Dining in Southeast Asia requires a sense of adventure. For outsiders, such things as eating shrimp with the shells still on with chopsticks can be a bit overwhelming. Those with strong negative feelings about either chili pepper or garlic will not get terribly far with many cuisines of the region. Boldness of appearance, smell, and taste is valued. Yet as with so many things in the Asian context, this boldness is held in productive tension with balance between sweet, sour, spicy, bitter, and other flavors.

The influence of Chinese cuisine and cooking techniques is felt throughout the region. In East Malaysia, it is the interplay between various traditions of south Chinese cookery, Malay-Indonesian cuisine, and local Sarawaki traditions that I find most intriguing. I’ve had some fine Chinese food – including wonderful steamed freshwater fish. Sometimes, the dishes take on just a bit of a Malay hint, with the addition of coconut or some element of “curry”.

Sarawak-style laksa

Malay cooking has been especially prominent at breakfast time. As in much of Southeast Asia, breakfast often centers around soup. While Vietnamese pho is becoming well known in the US (although certainly not for breakfast), Malay laksa is something I’ve not experienced elsewhere. Laksa is hard to pin down, as it differs wildly from region to region and, I suspect, cook to cook. Penang-style laksa is heavy on fermented fish sauce and lime, while Sarawaki laksa includes generous amounts of coconut milk and chili pepper. All forms include noodles and are garnished with various fresh condiments like chili peppers, dried fish, bean sprouts, and boiled or fermented egg. Laksa is served at numerous open-air restaurants every morning.

Malaysian and Indonesian cooking has no fear of fresh garlic or chili. Both are eaten with gusto. Anytime that I’ve been served mee, or noodles, a small sauce dish is placed on the side of each place. Each diner mixes his or her own blend of fresh raw garlic, fresh raw red chilis, soy sauce, and/or vinegar together. An elaborate dance of chop sticks, a Chinese spoon, noodles, and sauce commences.

The indigenous cooking of Sarawak showed up most prominently at a cookout in Miri tonight. A large wood grill stood at the center of the circle, near a table laden with all kinds of dishes, with plastic chairs forming a circle. Other than the Chinese lanterns hanging from the trees, it could have been a Midwestern fourth of July picnic. But the food was far from Midwestern. Many of the students at the school I am visiting contributed a dish. One of the teachers contributed python snake cooked with chili pepper and greens. Vegetables that I’d never seen before like four-sided beans (looks a bit like cactus) joined more familiar fare like okra. Rice is of the utmost importance, with many touting the special nature of rice from their region. In this region of Sarawak, glutinous rice is often steamed in bamboo shells with coconut milk, giving a lovely perfumed sweetness.

I can’t speak of Malaysian food without mentioning drinks. I’ve never had lemonade/limeade finer than that served in Southeast Asia, which usually includes little bits of cane sugar still crunching in the bottom. But the variety of juices is breathtaking. Fresh carrot juice is popular here, mixed with coconut milk. Yesterday I had a wonderful concoction of sugar cane juice, lemon, and salt-preserved dates that quenched thirst while a tropic rain poured down outside.

Everything finishes with fruits. Most meals here end with assorted colors and varieties of melons and/or pineapple.  One meal, served in a very simple open-air canopy outside a home, finished with purple dragon fruit. While I’ve had white dragon fruit numerous times, this was my first experience of a purple variety.

Purple dragon fruit

 I remember well a great-aunt saying that one of the greatest joys in life was food. I clearly inherited this gusto. I’m also fortunate to do a job that involves a lot of conversations. Good work happens over food. 

Malaysia, Truly Asia

The Lawas River flowing through town of Lawas, Sarawak

This is my first visit to Malaysia, save one brief change of planes at the Kuala Lumpur airport several years ago. Although few nations escape the mark of their geography, Malaysia is especially influenced and formed by the shapes of its landmasses. West Malaysia, by far the most populous part, stretches down the narrow Malay Peninsula from the northern border with Thailand to the southern straits facing Singapore. West Malaysia is dominated by ethnic Malays, the vast majority of whom are Muslims. As in most of Southeast Asia, a sizable Chinese minority exerts influence far beyond its proportionate numeric strength. South Indians, especially Tamils, also compose a significant minority.

East Malaysia is another world, sitting a few hundred miles across the South China Sea and stretching across the northern third of the island of Borneo. The two Malaysian states on Borneo – Sabah and Sarawak – are geographically Malaysia’s largest by far, yet they are also the most sparsely populated, with a combined population of 6 million, compared to 21 million in Peninsular Malaysia. Most of the cities of this part of Malaysia – Kuching, Miri, and Kota Kinabalu – sit near the sea on the north coast. The interior is an increasingly hilly and mountainous rain forest stretching across the island toward the border with the Indonesian region of Kalimantan, which covers the southern half of the island of Borneo. Although Malays and Chinese compose an important part of the population of East Malaysia, the region is also home to several dozen indigenous tribes, the majority of whom are Christian, as are many of the Chinese of East Malaysia.

There was a jingle that ran on television in various places in the past that extolled Malaysia as a tourist destination that was “truly Asia.” While I’m generally averse to any claim to be more “truly” anything than anywhere or anyone else, I could not help but find this description compelling today as a small propeller plan skimmed over dense rainforest, palm oil plantations, and wide, muddy rivers wandering their way down from mountains to the sea in preparation for landing at Lawas, in the far eastern reaches of Sarawak. Lawas is a town of about 30,000 sitting on a river just a few miles inland from the sea. It is cut off from much of the rest of Sarawak by the Sultanate of Brunei, a tiny, hyper-wealthy enclave that by accidents of British colonialism remains a separate country.

Surprisingly to me, entering Sabah or Sarawak from Peninsular Malaysia requires a passage through passport control. My passport was stamped both in the KL airport and in the airport in Miri, Sarawak. This is part of a special “20 point agreement” reached between the former British colonies of Malaya (now West Malaysia) and Sabah and Sarawak in the 1960s. It is designed, in part, to prevent mass migration from the Peninsula to the more sparsely settled East. In reality, I am told that some of these distinctions are breaking down today, although both states retain a much higher degree of autonomy than their counterparts on the peninsula.

Is Malaysia “truly Asia,” whatever that means? Perhaps. But it is difficult to escape the beauty of Lawas – the tropical afternoon downpours, misty clouds rolling down the mountains, the deep, muddy river swimming with crocodiles and boat taxis. It is a world away from the bustle of Bangkok, Manila, Chennai, or Delhi. It certainly lacks the sparkle of Singapore, Seoul, or Shanghai. It does not even begin to aspire to the grandiosity of Beijing. Yet in the fresh, humidity-laden air and the fading sunlight of late afternoon, it is hard to imagine a place more beautiful. 

Taking Taxis in Singapore

There’s no avoiding the fact that Singapore is a long ways from Grand Rapids. I considered myself fortunate to make the journey on Wednesday in less than 24 hours. The fact that flight time from Tokyo to Singapore is nearly 7 hours (approximately equivalent to the flight time from New York to Paris) is just one view into the immensity of Asia.

This was my fourth visit to this island city-state. My most enduring sensations of Singapore are

1)  flyovers/overpasses draped with purple, pink, or white bougainvillea flowers 

2)  smack-you-in-the-face humidity

3)  orderliness

Getting around Singapore, compared to many other places around the world, is remarkably simple. The city’s underground and above-ground metro system reaches across the island, uniting the airport, the central business district, and many outlying areas. Although I’ve made much use of the trains during previous trips, the relative shortness of my visit this time (24 hours) meant that most of my transit this time was by Singapore taxis.

Taxis are everywhere in Singapore. Every hotel, shopping center, and many other places have a taxi queue. Perhaps the most striking thing about the system is its orderliness. This is hardly shocking in Singapore, which is probably among the most “orderly” places on earth. Taxis come at a number of levels, with “flag drop” charges differing by a few cents based on the prestige of the car. All taxis are metered and governed by a strong set of rules. The driver’s name and license number is prominently displayed, many take credit cards, and they are required to have change. For anyone who has haggled over taxi fare, found a driver without change for a moderate-sized bill, or experienced a ride wondering all along if you are being taken advantage of, this makes for a deeply simple and gratifying process. 

The diversity of Singapore is on full display in its taxis. In four rides, I had three male and one female driver ranging in age from early 20s to late 60s. Three were Chinese, one was Malay. One driver had an elaborate display of Buddhist objects on the dashboard and played western pop music on the radio (Singapore’s best mix, in the DJ’s words!). One had hung a crucifix from his rearview mirror and played peppy Chinese pop music. The Malay driver’s car lacked any decoration at all and the radio played what seemed to me to be Malay-language talk radio.

This is not an easy week to be a taxi driver in Singapore. This Sunday is the Singapore Formula 1 Race, which takes place on city streets in the city’s waterfront district. By mid-week, numerous thoroughfares were beginning to close in preparation, causing traffic jams more reminiscent of Manila or Jakarta than Singapore. Overhead electronic boards, in addition to the usual admonitions to drive respectfully, added calls for patience.

There’s nothing quite like riding in a taxi across a city in the middle of the night on the way to the airport for an early flight. I found myself in such a situation on Saturday morning, as I prepared to fly on to Malaysia. The Chinese driver made his way down the surprisingly-busy-for-4-in-the-morning Pan-Island Expressway, the radio playing “Singapore’s best mix.” Sandwiched between the latest Beyoncé hit and Michael Bolton was the 1980s evangelical youth group hit Friends are Friends Forever by Michael W. Smith. How exactly such a thing made its way into “Singapore’s best mix” is beyond my comprehension. I can honestly say that I had gone many (rather happy) years without hearing that tune. But alas, it found me in a taxicab on an expressway in Singapore in the middle of the night. Globalization defined.

And now, having relived the memory, I can’t get the song out of my head…