The Bus

When I was a kid, I relied on a school bus. 

And no, my school bus did not look like one of these. 

Instead, mine was a nearly 30-year old vehicle, complete with rusted steps that could have collapsed had one stepped in the wrong place. 

To illustrate just how old the buses were, their number plates had only two letters: one was AR and the other was AK if I remember correctly. But that’s not the point of this post. 

Back in those days, you sort of knew all the major school bus companies in the city. And as Ipoh was (and still is) a small city, you also knew all your other schoolmates who went on the other buses. 

Living in a city where the Chinese outnumbered the Malays, a good majority of the bus population were also Chinese. In fact, you could count the number of non-Chinese with the fingers on one hand. In the case of my bus, I’d say 80% of them came from a particular Chinese-medium school. Needless to say, these guys (and girls) were the kings and queens on the bus. 

Being the minority, there were several unspoken rules we had to adhere to. The bus could roughly be divided into three parts. The front part was always for us minority people. The Malays, bananas and, Indians. The middle part was for the Chinese who generally minded their own businesses. The back third was strictly off-limits. If there was an empty seat in the back third? Too bad. Consider it empty. They’d mockingly offer you a seat and if you said yes, they’d flip you the middle finger and harass you the entire journey. 

I also remember when a Malay senior of mine dared to stand up to one of the girls from the back-third and it almost escalated to all-out war when the girl’s boyfriend showed up at the place we waited for the bus. And even people who tried their best to avoid confrontation ended up being harassed. Personally, my highlight was when one of the chaps decided to burn the ends of my hair with a lighter for laughs. 

The bus auntie (or cheh sou - god bless her), tried her best to keep us minorities away from trouble by reserving seats up front right next to her. These seats were right above the engine block (it really warmed your butt) but these seats were very limited so most of us ended up standing for the entire journey home. 

And if you ended up having to stand in the back third? Too bad. You just had to put up with it. And to be fair, most of us did put up with it. In my case, I put up with it until I was old enough to get on the city bus (which was beginning Form 3, I believe).

Anyway, the reason I’m compelled to type this story out is two-fold. 

The first is the less important of the two. Recently, one of my friends from the banana-crew got in touch after years so it reminded me of the crazy times we went through when we were younger. There were actually three of us and I recently found out I had been working with the third’s cousin all this while.

More important is the second point. I think many of us Malaysians could do with a little more chill. I really do believe that inter-ethnic relations (not just in Malaysia but in general) are at an all-time low and this is reflected in what I see on social media, in politics, at schools, at work, in the property market and the list goes on and on. 

This isn’t something that’s new. Racism has always existed but I think we have reached a stage where we are all so desensitized to racism that for some of us, it’s entirely normal behaviour. 

So, in the spirit of unity in the month of Merdeka, my message, for what it’s worth, is for all of us to be a little more chill.