“Malay Dancing”, c.1915 |
As written in the first part, Melaka was a symbolic place for the figurative representation of Malaysia; it's said that the first drawing of a beach with its palm trees, in Melaka, was made by a European sailor.
Melaka and Penang were the first
places where photography first arrived, thanks to their strategic role as ports
and international trade.
I was there for a few days but I liked its kampung atmosphere, more than the typical European architecture of the city – of course, as a European.
Before the creation of the Melaka
Sultanate, the region was a simple fishing community inhabited by indigenous
peoples. According to the chronicles, the Sultanate was founded by Prince
Parameswara, a nobleman originally from the kingdom of Srivijaya forced to go
into exile in Sumatra following the invasion by the kingdom of Majapahit in
1377. Arriving in the Parameswara region he found a suitable bay to build a
port easily accessible in all seasons and strategically positioned in a point
easily accessible from the Strait of Melaka. In 1414 Parameswara converted to
Islam and welcomed a large community of Chinese coming largely from the
imperial and merchant fleets.
In April 1511 Alfonso de Albuquerque
sailed from Goa to Melaka with a force of about 1200 men and seventeen or
eighteen ships. Having conquered the city on 24 August 24 of 1511, Afonso de
Albuquerque spared the Hindu, Chinese and Burmese inhabitants, but had the
Muslim inhabitants massacred or sold them as slaves.
It was clear that Portuguese control
of Melaka meant nothing more than the control of Asian trade.
Linguistically, Melaka was also the
port into which Spanish words that are still part of the Malay language flowed,
increasing the baggage of this multifaceted language.
Here it is in a photograph from the early twentieth century.
A Melaka bullock carts head over the Melaka bridge from the Town Square with Christ Church (left), the Clock Tower (center), and the Stadthuys behind, c. 1906. |
And in a recent picture of mine.
Malaka, 2019 |
One cannot fail to mention the capital, Kuala Lumpur.
In this case the choice of
photography is dated by my experience in that city, where I have been many
times.
There are many photographer friends
I know in the capital, almost all of them love Street Photography. I follow
them often, and it made me smile as each of their outings, month after month,
almost always ended in Petaling Street, famous for its vintage street market.
Kuala Lumpur is now an ultra-modern
city, but it still knows how to offer magical and poetic corners, such as the
beautiful Kampung Baru, a piece of old traditional Malaysia right at the foot
of the Twin Towers.
But this remains the main
destination for Kuala Lumpur photographers.
Here's what it looked like in one of
the very first photos in 1890.
“From the beginning, commerce was
always centered on the east bank of the Klang River, in the streets that formed
Chinatown. In the revamp of Kuala Lumpur that began in the 1880s, the once
'pestilential' hub of mud and atap huts was transformed into rows of brick
shophouses – some of which still survive – fronted by five-foot ways to keep
pedestrians off the roads.
Trade was centered around the Old Market Square (Medan Pasar) while Petaling Street was then nicknamed Monte Carlo for its gambling and nightlife, including registered brothels.” (W. K. Moore)
Petaling Street, 1890s |
And here's what it looks like today with its famous and very crowded market that sells anything, every hour of the week that sees a large number of people on the weekend to make it the perfect place for Street Photography.
The Monte Carlo of 2000s, smaller than in the past but still with its wild and libertine aura.
Petaling Street Market, 2017 |
From the capital, we fly to one of the states I love most: Kelantan. I have written a lot about this region and its famous market. Kelantan remains for me the land of strong emotions, rough and colorful. There I have the best memories but also the saddest ones.
Of course, if I were to associate Kelantan with anything it would be Women. Although it is one of the states with the strongest Islamic character, the power and strength of women are in every corner. Women have started selling in the markets since the last century.
It seems that it all began when the traditional economy was aggravated by many taxes, especially on food and
coconut.
Many of the local inhabitants were
forced to sell their lands and ended up in debt; then they began to work in the
rubber plantations, but the skyrocketing prices due to internal wars and the
Great Depression did not allow for easy survival.
Early postcards and photographs from
Malaysia's East Coast often depicts women selling in markets, or in clothing.
While the men of Kelantan and Terengganu had worked at sea to support their
families, the women were forced to work in the cities, in order to increase
their salaries.
Wayside market in Kelantan, 1920s. |
Even today Kota Bharu is the symbolic place, thanks to the famous Siti Khadijah Market, of female power and strength, both on a sociological, anthropological, historical, and even figurative level.
Pasar Siti Khadijah. Kota Bharu, 2019. |
Lastly, I leave some stories behind the photographs. Focusing more on the cultural aspect than on the geographical one.
Let's start with the rubber.
Where tin dominated the economy in the nineteenth century by changing the demographics of the nation with the large influx of Chinese miners, the twentieth century was marked by the rubber boom, with the arrival of workers from South India.
The rapid growth of the American
automobile industry in the late 1800s also increased the demand for rubber. In
1910 Malaysia was already the first nation for rubber production in the world.
Huge portions of virgin forest were
razed to implement the new, more profitable plantations, forever changing the
natural appearance of Malaysia.
In this photograph from 1906,
Malaysian workers collect rubber.
Malay tappers working on 12-13-year-old trees, c. 1906 |
I stopped to talk to them. Every
morning they crossed the border, illegally, to work the whole day on hundreds
of trees, with their faces burned by the sun, then return to Thailand at night,
and start over the next day.
Thai rubber picker. Padang Besar, Perlis, 2017 |
Part of the beauty of Malaysia is due – as in all other Asian countries – also to its ethnic variety. I have not been able to meet the tribal ethnic groups, nor visit the whole of Malaysia and I regret it.
Among the places that I regret not
having seen is Sarawak, perhaps the most ethnic state of entire Malaysia,
to the point that an additional permit is required to visit it.
In contrast to the colonized
Peninsula, where there was an encouragement for the local population to
westernize, in Sarawak James Brooke and his successors were determined to
preserve the traditional way of life.
Indigenous customs were recognized,
although those considered “uncivilized” were abolished, such as slavery and
headhunters.
Many of the colonial officers in
Sarawak were anthropologists and there were several studies conducted on the
indigenous population. Charles Hose divided the population of Borneo into 20
categories with numerous sub-categories, taking many photographs of the various
ethnic groups: Dayak, Iban, Bidayuh, Bakatan, and Long Pokun.
In some of these photographs, women
are portrayed as they sew their clothes in the traditional way.
A Dayak woman spinning yarn for weaving, c. 1905 |
Now the Tenun Songket is mostly used in performances during festivals related to
traditional Art and Culture.
Tenun Songket. Balik Pulau, Penang, 2019 |
Sarawak traditional dance.
“Malam Bumi Kenyalang 2019”. Sarawak Cultural Night - Dance Competition. USM, Penang, 2019 |
Speaking of tribal groups, I cannot
fail to mention the Orang Asli, of which I have already written in this Blog.
In this case, I was lucky and pleased to have visited their kampung in two
different regions, in Perak and Johor.
They remain for me the ancestral heart of the Malaysian soul.
Jahut Orang Asli at Sungai Kiol, Pahang, 1960s |
Like many ethnic groups, the Orang Asli also experiences an internal and external struggle on the drive towards modernity and attachment to a still primitive and original lifestyle. In some cases, they live in a mental middle-earth, in houses and with a still traditional lifestyle but in villages already closer to the cities and in Western clothes such as jeans and T-shirts. I hope that they can always keep alive the original spirit (asli) of their nature and identity.
When ethnic groups like theirs are lost, it means that the process towards the fading of the deep soul of a nation has already begun.
Little girl Orang Asli in her village. Kampung Yum, Pos Yum. Sungai Siput, Perak, 2019 |
Not only are local ethnic groups present, but as mentioned many times, Malaysia is a jumble of races and cultures.
Indian traders have frequented the
ports of Malaysia for centuries, but they were not relevant until the late
twentieth century. The sepoys (soldiers) Indians, as well as the convicts who
worked in the construction of George Town, were brought to Penang by Francis
Light. The sugar industry employs many Indian workers, but it was with the
rubber boom – as we have seen – that the number of Indians soared to over
millions of inhabitants.
Early photographers, such as Charles
Kleingrothe used Indians as subjects for their postcards. As well as their
festivals.
Hindu festivals, c.1900 |
Even today, Indian rites and
festivals are celebrated in the streets of Malaysian cities, including
Thaipusam and Deepawali which is also a national holiday in the calendar.
Thiruvila festival. Gelugor, Penang, 2019 |
To conclude, a little history.
The 1950s are remembered with the name of Emergency. They relate to the communist guerrilla warfare carried out by the famous commander Chin Peng, from the jungle, one of the protagonists of the war against the Japanese alongside the British.
Kedah was the site of the treaty
between Peng's Malayan Communist Party (MCP) and the Alliance. It was December
28, 1955.
The pact to end hostilities failed,
because Peng asked to be recognized as a party, which the Alliance did not
accept, but which forced General Peng to return first to the forest and then to
flee into exile in Beijing.
The Emergency officially closed on
August 1, 1960, with over 11,000 victims. It was only in 1989 that the MPC and
the government of Malaysia and Thailand signed the final peace. After 41 years.
It is said that during the
Emergency, villages and cities that were close to the “Black Areas”, the areas
under the control of the Communist Party, were abandoned by the inhabitants.
It was only in 1958 when the MLRA –
the Malaysian Community party – was dissolved and banned from the nation by the
government and the war was considered over, that the inhabitants were able to
return to their villages of origin.
It was a very touching moment:
entire families and new generations returned to live in real ghost towns after
ten years.
The “Straits Times” photographed,
between 1958 and '59, the return of residents (mudik) in the black area of
Jenderam, in Selangor: the only building still standing in “Kampung Hantu”
(Ghost Town) was the mosque.
In the photographs for the magazine,
families finally pose happily in their homes or in the typical habit of
chatting at the cafe.
Catching up at the coffee shop. Jenderam, Selangor, January 19, 1959. |
This is one of the moments that can be seen in every corner of Malaysia. I like to approach it with this piece of history.
How a simple common gesture can
acquire a deep emotional value if linked to the past.
Coffee time. Kampung Kedai Buloh, Kelantan, 2019 |
I found this very nice. Elephants
are usually imagined in Thailand and neighboring countries, Laos, Vietnam,
Cambodia.
Here is this wonderful photograph
from the 1930s.
“Even though there were cars in Malaya by then, elephants were still used as transport in the early decades of the 20th century in Perak.” |
Of course, don't ask me for pictures of elephants around Ipoh.
I hope this journey of miles and centuries has warmed your heart. I am a strong supporter of the past, a nostalgia. But it is the past that leads us to better appreciate what we have today. And, perhaps, to be able to build a future that never forgets its origin.
The water of the river that reaches the sea never forgets that it is water. From sweet it becomes salty, but it is of the same substance as its first drops. So should be the paths of the nations.
For this, I write...
Wendy Khadijah Moore: “Malaysia – A
Pictorial History 1400-2004” (EDM, 2013)
The 2nd part is also great and impressed. The journey and nostalgia touched deep in my heart.
ReplyDeleteBut i love the most the end of this article.
"The water of the river that reaches the sea never forgets that it is water. From sweet it becomes salty, but it is of the same substance as its first drops. So should be the paths of the nations."
Inspired.❤
Thanks because always share a great stories with us.
Love it so much.😍
Thank you so much for the support 🙏😊
DeleteYour pen really knows how to dance gracefully...nice compact writing.
ReplyDeleteThe virtual journey through photos comparison by you...bring back those sweet moments...that will be remembered...and never forget and always proud of own origin.
Thanks a lot 🇲🇾
DeleteI am no Malaysian, but if i were, i will be grateful for your effort to revive what's already dying...Arouse a feeling of melancholy from the readers and leave a mark.. Your trademark. 👍
ReplyDeleteThanks you so much 🙏
DeleteAnother great n informative article from u👏👏👏
ReplyDeleteTerima kasih 🙏
DeleteBuild a future that never forget its origin. Yess
ReplyDeleteYesss! 😊💪
Delete"Your memory creates postcard images, but it doesn't really comprehend the world at all. That's why a landscape is so affected by the mood of the person looking at it. In it a person sees his own inner, transitory moments. Wherever he looks, he sees nothing but himself."
ReplyDelete- Olga Tokarczuk, House of Day, House of Night.
Keep writing ok.
Thank you so much 🙏
Delete