Muhibbah

Every time after I finished with teaching the kids (I work part-time as a children's art teacher), I take them to the playroom to have fun until their parents come fetch them. Today only 2 boys were left, a Chinese and a Malay. This piece of information is important because that's what urged me to write this.

The boys were having the time of their life, screaming "Ghost! Ghost!" and running from a harmless, cute little girl who happened to be in the same room, and having no idea at all of the commotion. They scrambled up a slide with a small platform that can hold them both, cowering in mock fear. Kids, haha.

Then I heard something strange. I thought I heard "Don't touch me, you cannot touch me," which I thought was just a jest. But then I heard it a few times more, which sounded like there was more underneath. It came from the Malay kid, so I asked him to make clear of what he said.

He really did say "Don't touch me." He's only a kid, he must have learnt it from another person. I asked him why the other kid cannot touch him, he says, "Because I'm a Malay. Cannot touch a Chinese."

What rubbish, I told him. Where did he learn that from? "A teacher."

And we wonder why racism is still alive in our country.

My class is a healthy mix of children of different races. If you are familiar with kids, you can understand that they cannot see in their eyes the different skin colors that we have. All they see are classmates and playmates.

They are what we teach them to be. The government may keep on promoting perpaduan among all rakyat and the textbooks may teach about hormat-menghormati among different cultures. But what good can they do if the adults, those in charge of their spiritual and intellectual upbringing, teaches them otherwise?

Eh kawan, muhibbah la!