Commemoration and connection

AT times of economic uncertainty and political turbulence (with internal party reconfigurations and new parties being announced, alongside excited talk of early elections, at least in some states) it can seem daunting to also fulfil the usual schedule of commemorative events and celebrations. Yet they are also a source of reassurance and a reminder that even when things are jittery, certain things still matter and are worthy of recognition.

Two Saturdays ago, I was on stage at UCSI University as Chancellor, at the first and second sessions of their 39th Convo-cation. With the backing of a gamelan group playing Negri Sembilan songs, about a thousand graduates received their scrolls from me, and while the motions are undeniably repetitive, I welcome the short interactions that give a glimpse into the lifestyle and ambition of this next cohort.

I always ask the Registrar for the list of nationalities of recipients so I can congratulate them in their own language: but what I cannot prepare for are the various gestures that some braver students ask me to do. I’m terrified that some have humorous or obscene meanings that I’m unaware of.

This is even before all the selfies to which strange filters can be applied and go viral on social media – which one apparently did, this time.

Nevertheless, this is all part of the job and it is sometimes futile to resist the shifting trends of a new generation.

What is certainly constant and steadfast is the dedication of educators, and on Monday I was at SK Lavender Heights in Senawang to celebrate Teachers’ Day - my first time there after a longstanding invitation. Unlike the older and more established schools in and around Seremban, this one serves a younger and more migratory community with approximately half the families having moved in from outside the state, residing in the surrounding neighbourhood and many commuting daily to Kuala Lumpur. Nevertheless, the rendition of the state anthem was outstanding!

The subsequent speeches revealed how the school has achieved so much in such a short time. The developer of the surrounding neighbourhood has long invested resources into the school and the Parent-Teacher Association is extremely active as well.

A focus on extra curricular activities is strongly evident with a dance troupe and young silat practitioners escorting me from venue to venue and an angklung ensemble playing Elvis Presley passionately. This was before they insisted I accompany them on piano while the teachers, led by the principal Suziana Awaludin, sang ‘Kami Guru Malaysia’.

They wanted an encore, but being unprepared for a solo, I asked the director of the Negri Sembilan Education Department, Khalidah Omar, to sing (so I could merely play chords rather than a full piece) and she sportingly agreed with Zainal Abidin’s ‘Hijau’! Certainly a day to remember.

Educators feature too among the ranks of palace officials – plus the chairman of Masjid Diraja Tuanku Munawir used to be principal of SMK Tunku Besar Burhanuddin – and they too put their vocal chords to use for the takbir Raya for the Aidiladha celebrations earlier this week.

As per tradition, the eve of Hari Raya saw me joining my brother, the Tunku Besar Seri Menanti, in firing the cannon seven times to announce that the date has been confirmed by the Yang di-Pertuan Besar (and these days, announced by the Keeper of the Rulers’ Seal), followed by congregational Isyak prayers and the Takbir Raya.

Aidiladha prayers the next morning took place at the temporary space across the mosque which is being renovated, and it was back to the grounds of Istana Besar Seri Menanti for the sacrifice of three cows, whose meat was apportioned and distributed by my family that afternoon.

Unlike Hari Raya Aildifitri, which attracts thousands of visitors to the open house, Hari Raya Aidiladha is a much quieter affair, with family members spending more time catching up with each other: an appropriate phenomenon given the centrality of family and sacrifice in the narrative of the Prophet Ibrahim intending to sacrifice his son, Ismail.

Music recurred as a topic for conversation: three of my nieces (well, in Malay I would call them ‘anak sepupu’) are keen musicians and new collaborations may well have been discussed.

That, I suppose, is the best thing about coming together to commemorate things. As people gather to share what they collectively agree is worthy, new ideas and possibilities are generated among the enthusiasm.

In times of economic uncertainty and amid hateful attempts to divide people, it is this spirit of cooperation that will build new resilient things to celebrate – and even spark new commemorations of their own.

Tunku Zain Al-’Abidin is the second son of the Yang di-Pertuan Besar of Negri Sembilan. The views expressed here are the writer’s own.