KL Membengit *

It is close to 2 a.m. here in the bedroom of our humble Ampang apartment where we have been hibernating for the past week.

Or rather, it feels like it.

Sadia has taken an unusually long time to adjust her biological clock that follows keenly her Dutch’s sleeping patterns which in turn altered her parents into a zombie-like state. From the time we arrived on Sunday to Thursday, her bedtime varies between 2 to 4 a.m. Only tonight she slept around 1:30 and gave me a breather to update this site.

The rippling effects of this slow temporal adjustment range from undue stress to heightened anger at seemingly trivial issues.

At first, I wasn’t sure what tone to use for this Malaysian re-entry post. Should I just let go of my emotions and rant to my heart’s content, the inadequacies and other disturbing attributes of my country? Or should I discard those emotionally-charged excesses and exercise some form of discretion with my thoughts?

Granted, all these first impressions are probably owing to the culture shock that I (and husband) am experiencing upon reintroduction to the Malaysian way of life.

After spending a quiet existence in a Delftian bubble for almost a year, the cacophony that is KL assailed me from all directions. And the massive school-holiday crowd thronging the malls and roads didn’t help at all to ease up our frazzled nerves.

The most glaring change in our life so far is the mode of transport to which we must now solely depend on: the car. The efficient public transport in the Netherlands made it unnecessary, even superfluous, for us to use a car. We walk everywhere – to the friendly, nearby neighborhood supermarket, to the clothing stores of choice, to the cafes galore.

In Malaysia, unless you are willing to risk your life riding the Metro bus driven by addlebrained individuals (or would animals be more apt?), a personal car is the most practical option available. And since everyone else has the same idea, there are gazillions of cars on the roads, which serve as a catalyst for traffic-jam nightmares, thus hampering quick movements and, understandably defeating the purpose of having a car in the first place!

And of course, the notorious, globally-renowned Malaysian drivers need some getting used to. My observations for the first week include: (a) the ACTUAL purpose of using your indicator light when turning either to the right or to the left is to prepare yourself from being ambushed by the car behind for having the audacity to get into his or her lane; (b) this will cause the looney, egomaniac driver to floor his or her accelerator so as to hinder you from overtaking him or her on that lane; (c) the difficulty of going out of your parking space when other cars refuse to stop to let you reverse your way since they are all KIASU monsters; (d) the gross negligence to use your indicator light to inform the car behind as to the direction you are planning to turn since signaling are for wimps (or if you’re a chauvinist – women) only.

The lack of common courtesy on the roads must be the primary reason for the unending cases of fatalities on highways and byways. In a land purportedly famous for its friendly smiles, this form of reckless behavior runs counter to this gracious claim. How ironic is that?

Why do Malaysians vent out their anger while driving and take it personally when someone wants to overtake or go into their lane? Why can’t they just let them through? Will their egos be bruised or God forbid (for men only), lessen the value of their manhood? This baffles me so.

Any form of courtesy also appears to be on the decline, if not disappearing altogether. Today, I had to carry an empty stroller over five short steps and after heaving it successfully on top of the landing, Sadia’s non-spill cup fell out of the bag attached to the stroller. As I ran down two steps after it, the pushchair tilted over with some contents strewn all over the steps below.

The most annoying aspect of the incident was that NOONE came to help me. In fact, there were three young guys loitering on the aforesaid steps and the only thing they could offer was “Ooopp!” as if providing me with the requisite sound effects that my stroller was about to flip over. They just sat there, wide-eyed and probably amused by my hapless situation.

They were the ones closest but some people manning a Persona promotional tent also stood there agape. I was miffed by the absence of anyone’s quick thinking to help a person in need. Have Malaysia’s urban areas cultivated a series of apathetic societies? Or is it a national phenomenon?

Instantaneously, my mind wandered to Delft’s train station where its southbound platform is strangely not equipped with any handicapped facility i.e., a lift. This oversight also causes difficulty for stroller-reliant individuals, not to mention those carrying heavy luggage, to lug the perambulators down some flights of stairs. However, more often than not, total strangers would offer to help my husband carry the stroller down to the bottom of the steps.

Or, they would hold the door open for us (and our stroller) when we are entering or leaving a store, since most stores prefer using double doors than the automatic doors, owing possibly largely to climatic reasons (windy, cold condition during the Fall and Winter). Besides Delft, these selfless acts were experienced in big cities of Rotterdam, Den Haag and Amsterdam. So it’s a lame excuse to say that city folks are less friendly or on the flip side, more self-absorbed.

I know it’s only the first week and in time I might stumble on some kindhearted folks, but somehow deep inside my gut feeling is telling me this is the real deal. I have to adapt to this kind of lifestyle – fastpaced, noisy, living-in-traffic-jams, kiasu-mentality – and hopefully remain unscathed by the jarring, discordant messages that KL is sending out to me. Loud and clear.

*Bengit can be loosely translated as Shrieking.