Memories of perfect harmony

The writer remembers a time when racial tensions were unheard of and religious bigotry did not exist.

COMMENT

by Sairana Mohd Saad

Take a look at the stained glass design in the picture accompanying this article. The first time I looked at it, I saw a beautiful piece of artwork. The second time I looked at it, I was reminded of Notre Dame de Paris. The third time I looked at it, I saw the name of my Alma Mater.

And suddenly I am transformed into the young, skinny Assuntarian with so many black marks that most school prefects had raised their white flag to. The discipline council too.

Assunta was not just the name of my primary and secondary school. It’s also the name of the hospital I was born in. Hence, I am, definitely, a true blue Assuntarian. I carry the Assunta DNA in my body. I was born an Assuntarian, I shall die an Assuntarian.

I was one of the fortunate many who attended the all girls’ school back in the 80s. Yes, I was one of the fortunate ones who went to a school where the rich were friends with the poor, and the Chinese could be the best of friends with the Indians, and the Indians could be the best of friends with the Malays and the Sikhs could be the best of friends with the “Mixed”.

Our Irish headmistress, Sister Enda, was a devout nun who spoke Malay with a deep Irish accent. She loved singing so much that I used to get annoyed and dreaded the assembly sessions. Singing was forced down our throats until it became second nature to us. Even if you sounded like a frog, you still had to sing along with her. Sometimes, I felt like I was in a church. As much as I hated pitching the high notes because it was so girlish and uncool, the Assuntarian spirit in me ranked so high that I could not ignore the school song and skip Ad Veritatem, Per Caritatem.

At that time, racial tensions were unheard of and religious bigotry did not exist. There was no divide. We respected one another’s values and beliefs, so much so that I filled my chest with teachings of Buddhism, Hinduism, Christianity, Atheism and so on, in addition to the compulsory Islamic classes for all Muslim girls. Some of my close friends would educate me about Sunday classes, masses, services, but I will always remember their stories about guys they hooked up with at the church. That was funny.

In our classrooms, a Jesus Christ miniature was hung just above the blackboard. So we looked at it for at least five years of our lives, day in and day out. Till today, there is one in the Main School Hall. But if you were to ask any of the Muslim Assuntarian girls today, they’d say it didn’t bother them a bit. They’d say it didn’t shake their faith. They’d say, “So what?”

Because the school was run by nuns, religious values were instilled in us at a young age, no matter who your God was. But somehow, intelligence guided us and routed us to our own linkages of submission. We understood perfectly that it was “ to each her own”. And that there was no need to feel superior or inferior. And that there was no need to even think that your God is better than mine.

It is possible to live side by side in perfect harmony despite our diversity. I owe that belief to my Alma Mater and my diverse friends of assorted backgrounds – from those who were chauffeur driven in Jaguars and Mercedes Benz’ to those who took the Sri Jaya bus with me. I owe it to the upbringing and education I received that we have to learn to respect in order to gain respect.

I owe it all to the country I live in. Malaysia is not just another piece of land on this planet called earth. It is my birthplace, my past, my future, my axis of hope for a united nation.

Sairana Mohd Saad is an FMT reader