On Keeping Your Head Down (or, the Hang Nadim Problem)

In my first few months of boarding school, a well-meaning dorm mate of mine pulled me aside and explained, “You got to keep your head down. Don’t be so proud. I see when we were taking our class photos, you were putting your head up, looking too proud. Don’t.”

Naturally, I bristled at this.

It took me a while – being a boy from KL who suddenly found himself in a boarding school with 600 other boys and girls, most of them being Malay kids from kampungs across Melaka and Muar – to realise that I was entering a different world, with a different moral code at play.

Jangan tunjuk pandai.

Jangan eksyen.

Jangan pasang butang baju yang paling atas, nampak sangat macam geek.

Jangan baik sangat dengan budak puteri, nanti ada orang ingat kau try nak kacau awek diorang.

Over my six years in boarding school, I got used to the rules of the game. It didn’t always make sense to me – why is it a problem that I can speak English fluently, and why should I take pains to hide that fact? And at the start of my time there, I chafed against these rules that seemed to be arbitrary and mindless.

But in boarding school, where you are pretty much left to your own devices, potentially defenceless against boys much bigger and stronger than you, you learn very quickly to fit in and play along.

If there was an overarching principle in all those years in boarding school, it was to keep your head down. Malay culture certainly puts a premium on being humble and grounded, but in the hothouse of a boarding school environment, the imperative can almost seem like a necessity for survival.

All these lessons from my youth were heavy on my mind during the last general elections, when Khairy Jamaluddin went all out, in the face of heavy anti-UMNO sentiment in his Sungai Buloh constituency, to declare that he wanted to be Prime Minister someday.

Uh-oh, I thought. That’s a no-no.

In Sejarah Melayu, the tale of Hang Nadim is a cautionary one – don’t make yourself appear too clever, such that you end up appearing to be a threat to others. Yes, I suppose Malays have a problem with hasad dengki, but isn’t this basic human nature at work? Even for the best of us, we have a responsibility to maintain our viability, to avoid getting “assassinated” for posing a threat to others.

Maybe Malays will always have this Hang Nadim problem. We can complain about it – or we can accept that to survive and thrive in any human community, some amount of keeping one’s head down is necessary – if only to keep one’s head when everyone else is losing theirs!

On Cussing

One of the most difficult things that I had to get used to, when I first came up to boarding school in Melaka, was the cussing. It was not just that it was casual – friends would greet each other by the side of the road with “Woi, sial! Lama tak nampak!”, faces beaming – but that it was constant and unthinking. Everyday, everywhere, all at once, you could hear a chorus of Babi and Lahanat and Celaka in a hundred parallel conversations at any given moment.

Cussing was a big part of the culture – the price of admission to be part of the tribe.

I remember one afternoon, a couple of us played a stupid parlour game to see who can let out the longest unbroken stream of expletives, like a string of polished pearls of excrement – gleeful wannabe rappers with a bad case of Tourette’s, going babikaulahanatcelakapukimakpantatlancaucibaimakkau! at the utmost top of our voices.

Swearing as an art form: we were incorrigible.

Not long after boarding school, when I went overseas for A-Levels, I became the unfortunate existential trial that God inflicted on my pious, budak-sekolah-agama housemate. He would wince at every profanity that came out of my foul mouth. Certainly he was too polite to tell me off, so I had to find out from someone else that he was seriously considering moving to another house to get away from my baleful influence. Of course, I found this mortifying – I thought of myself as a good boy, and my housemate was such a gentle soul that the very thought of him moving out, because of my cussing, was a painful thought.

I cleaned up my act, and my potty mouth, pretty quickly.