Peace Corps Malaysia

Letter from Victoria Institution Sep 17, 1966

Dear gang,

The money and cryptic card just arrived – many, many thanks. Today I buy shoes and pants, thanks to you. Yadda yadda.

Three pics enclosed, two from way back in July, and one for my recent Japan trip. Plenty more on the way. Save them please.

The latest excitement was the recent smash hit of Mr. E.N. Dorrall's, play, "Arise, O Youth", performed last weekend before packed houses at the National Language Theater. Mr. Dorrall wrote most of it this year from his observations as an English teacher at VI, and hence it centers around school life: in particular, what happens to a boy in this country if he flunks his sixth form entrance exam. I played the part of an American businessman, whose sole purpose was to ask questions on stage, so that the answers would explain to the audience the intricacies of the examination system in Malaysia. It was a heck of a lot of fun. But now the fun has only begun.  "Arise, O Youth", believe it, or not, was the first play written by a Malaysian to have been performed in this country – that’s why the theater was packed each night. But it also happens to be highly critical of the educational system over here, the way people treat each other over here, the general cultural standards of Malaysia, and so on. As it stands now, a lot of people have started thinking about themselves, for maybe the first time, and in a clearheaded manner. Next week or so Radio Malaysia is going to take the entire show for re-broadcast in the near future. I’ll try my best to send you some excerpts. There is no better way of learning about the country.

Lenny wrote me a short note from Hilo. He sounds great. Wow, are we going to have a blast over here.

Just saw The Group (pretty rough stuff for Kuala Lumpur), but Born Free was much more enjoyable. Have you seen the latter? In one scene, a warthog repeatedly charges Elsa, to her utter bewilderment, and then trots triumphantly away. I don’t know how they ever got those pictures.

Almost all secondary school teachers are striking in the afternoons now (no afternoon pay, no afternoon work), so time is finally on my hands. The federal government is manhandling Sarawak again, but this time it looks very serious. I won’t be at all surprised if Sarawak decides to drop out of the Federation (and Saba would probably follow along) in the coming elections. Lively place, Malaysia.

Love to you all, and thanks again for the loot. I’m a rich man now! Sam

Letter from Victoria Institution Sep 28, 1966

Dear gang, I’m back again, with another load of pictures saved from the Tropical Slime in the Nick of Time. Hey, do I ever envy your summers John, especially the Russian stint. I’ve been told the Hermitage has a few dozen pictures or more of local fame, and it’s good to hear confirmation. Despite all the good Eastern art I have been exposed to thus far, my heart is still western to the core, so the mere word "Gauguin", or "impressionist", or even "Phidias" starts me slavering. The art scene in Malaysia is exciting in the sense that artists are just beginning to gain a foothold with oils, batek (a Malaysian invention: cloth covered with the help of waxes), and even some sculpture, but she has a long, long way to go. I went to the ninth annual Malaysian art show at the National Gallery today, and I was alone in the building. Yes, she has a long, long way to go.

Glad to hear about Gina and Dana. Yes, please jazz up the VW and sell it. Keep 10% for yourself and put the rest in Palo Alto Savings. Thank you. Len has written once, the clod. The Peace Corps boss over here and I are on real good terms, and we have more than once conferred on what he can do for a Big Len by way of placement. If Len doesn’t watch out, I may stick him in the middle of fourth division Sarawak with some head hunters for neighbors. Actually, the best spot for him does look like Sarawak, but perhaps in Kuching (the capital). The people here are friendlier and fresher, the country completely untouched (in particular, by any other Edwards children), and he would be able to teach secondary school instead of just an English class or two over here in Malaya. But placement is a strange and intricate process, so I won’t predict a thing at this stage. Is Bruce in England yet? I’ve got some addresses for him if he dares to write: Malaysian buddies, studying abroad, and looking for a contacts themselves.

Every day here I feel a little closer to this country, and every day here makes it more difficult to break away in a year or two, I’m afraid. I’m getting to know the fellow hostel master, Mr. Rajaratnam. (Raja for short) very well now, and it’s fascinating to see just how far apart we think on almost everything under the sun. He’s pretty well accustomed to his artificial leg now, but I’m still pushing him to have a cast of his stump sent to a place in southern California, which reputedly makes legs you can play tennis with. True to his background, he’s terribly fatalistic about the operation (bone cancer), and is firmly convinced the evil eye was cast on him by some KL fellow he threatens to revisit someday. It sounds ridiculous, but at least it explains everything completely, so he stopped worrying about it a lot sooner than I’m sure I would have. 

Last week we saw off too close friends who are off to England to study law, and another round of parties, for various excuses, should wallop me this week, too. Now that I have the VI system down pat, I’m finding a lot more time to visit people, read, books, and sightsee, and I’m a lot happier because of it. Who knows? In another year or so I may actually be in this culture!

Keep pushing for a law, school, Big John. This country is ripe for one. Malaysia‘s first medical school will open next year, and physically outshines Stanford‘s. When they want something over here, they go whole hog. I should think any law school yhey may be planning will similarly spring full grown from the ground, with a graduating class of 500 within three years. You better hurry. 

I’m sorry I sounded vague about the university deal, but the details are still vague to me. We just had a major change of staff in the KL Peace Corps office, and my new boss doesn’t like to transfer volunteers, so my chances are looking less golden now. But if I do get to the U, I would be given about 1 1/2 months free time to visit you after two years over here (December 1967). Please start stocking the refrigerator with meat now, and you might quadruple the milk supply – I haven’t had a glass of the stuff in 10 months.

Did the Sarawak crisis hit the local papers? The federal government just sacked Ningkan, the big cheese of the ruling Alliance Party in Sarawak, in what must surely rank as the clumsiest diplomatic move of the century. Ningkan is now a semi-martyr (someone should kill him off to make the title appropriate), and Sarawak is threatening to drop out of the federation. The embassy gives her a 50-50 chance of staying in after the elections next year, with Saba a big question mark.  So keep your ears open. It may be hot times in the tropics again.

Love to everybody over there, Sam

Letter from University of Malaya to family, Jun 12, 1967

Dear folks, Sorry for the long delay in writing you.  All sorts of things have been happening to me over here, and I needed to think them through.

Your letter about the Stanford math grad school's position left me low for a while, Big John, but all is not so serious as they (or you) make it out to be. True, my first year of graduate work was not straight A’s, but I did maintain a B minus average, quite sufficient to keep me in, but not sufficient to give me any sort of scholarship. Indeed, a letter last week from the department confirmed my readmission, should I choose that course of action. However, they were right on one score: my interests were (and still are) a bit too scattered to permit the concentration required of a PhD candidate. Even if a scholarship had been forthcoming, I doubt if I would have been able to re-join Stanford immediately upon my return to the states. As I see my life course now, I want to return home by the summer of 1969, shack up with big Len for a while, fatten myself up, get the East out of my system, relax a bit, and only then begin to think seriously of graduate school again, including the question of whether I really want to go back to it.

As far as work is concerned, I expect my job at SRI is still available, as well as other possibilities working with scientific firms in the Bay Area. I have been offered a job with a firm based in Honolulu, which has branch offices in Tokyo, Saigon, Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur, Singapore, and Jakarta, but I’m not yet sure what they require of me. Anyway, I can let this decision alone until I talk to the homefront again.

Sometime ago, Big John, you wrote me about visiting you people in December, and the phrase “seduced by the Far East “was part of your message. I imagine you and Mom are slightly worried that I may never come home again, that my judgment has been twisted around somehow, that I’ve lost my grip on reality, etc. Don’t worry. I’ve seen too many other Peace Corps volunteers lose their balance and frame of reference in Malaysia and neighboring countries, and the outcome is invariably sad. I hope I am truthful when I say I like the East very, very much, but it just can’t compete with the life I live at home.  I’ll be coming home, never fear.  I must confess, however, that I have been sorely tempted by the ease and pace of life in the tropics, and I can see why some of my fellow volunteers have opted to never return home. But I think their decisions are based largely on wishful thinking, and a conscious effort to hide their real reasons for not returning to the States. As for myself, I would wither away to nothing to see if I knew this were to be my permanent home.

The past few months have been pretty upsetting to us Americans in Malaysia. First King, then Kennedy, and no promise that the list is complete. We feel frustration, fear, anger, and shame at the US. Our country is reviled daily in all the papers for its guns, it’s violence, it’s hypocrisy, it’s failures; no mention of whatever good it has accomplished ever appears. The theaters show the worst Hollywood can produce. The diplomatic visitors from Washington invariably step on everybody’s cultural toes, thus reinforcing the belief that all Americans are arrogant, proud, and ugly. Johnson’s visit to Malaysia was a prime example of fumbling and bumbling; Humphreys was much better; but neither came even close to being polite in the eyes of the East.  When Kennedy was murdered, I had a steady stream of fellow, teachers and students visiting me in my office, making once more their confirmed point that America is one lousy place, which just doesn’t deserve to be called a Great Nation. What can I say to them? How can the Peace Corps fight this sort of thing? I guess the only way is to get busy and try to cure what’s wrong within our borders, before telling other people how great, we are. That shot in Los Angeles a few days ago effectively neutralized the work of thousands of American volunteers throughout the world. It just isn’t fair.

Incidentally, Robert Kennedy was worshiped in this country, almost at a par with his brother John. People were firmly convinced he was going to be our next president, and they were looking forward to another Golden Age in America. Now where are we? No matter who we elect, it will look like a second choice to the rest of the world (even if Kennedy didn’t stand a chance at home, which I suspect was so), and it will feel like one to me. I may have voted for McCarthy, but Kennedy was the kind of public servant I like to see in higher office, and his Republican opponent is not. Why do they always eliminate the best ones?

I am rambling a bit: let me return to more cheerful news. Mother, this should interest you: I find myself very attracted to a certain Malay girl, Fadzilah binte Din, and have felt this attraction for the past year or so. She is a nurse at the general hospital in Kuala Lumpur, she is 22 years old, she is a conservative Muslim, and the odds against any serious development or 100,000 to 1. Nonetheless, she knocks me out. If you want more details, let me know, and I might even send you a picture of her.

I had a riotous weekend on Tioman Island a few weekends ago. Teoman is off the East Coast of the Malay Peninsula, and is a really lovely place to scuba dive. I went with four Britishers, two from the British High Commission, and two from the British Council, and a fifth fellow from the Italian Trade Commission. It was my first extended contact with the British way of life, and it was a priceless experience, especially since I was able to share it with the Vicenzo Catelli (born and raised in Palermo). We really roughed it: champagne, caviar, smoked salmon, gallons of booze, two boats for the six of us, overland transport by Jaguar and Alpha Romeo; etc. We speared some big, tasty fish for dinner, and brought back an enormous lobster for Vicenzo‘s boss. It’s nice to see how the other half lives now and then.

I just bought a boutique painting in Penang: one month's salary, but who cares? It’s the top one on the enclosed slides. I also enclose two more photos taken last December on our hike. I assume Len sent you the articles we wrote for the Peace Corps magazine; if not, let me know, and I’ll send you an issue. 

That’s all for now. Hey: give me more information on exactly when you arrive in Europe, and where; how long is your stay there; when you go on holiday to Spain; when you return home. Also, what’s the deal about staying at the Goethe Institute, mom? That idea excites me too. Please clue me in on all the details. 

Love, Sam.

P.S. Keep Bruce’s car for me! It sounds great.  And why is Bruce so concerned with getting a Muslim country, anyway? That would be my last criterion, frankly.

Letter Victoria Institution to friends Jun 26, 1967

Dear friends,

The four months, since I last wrote a mimeograph letter, like this one has flown, passed at an all-too-rapid pace, and I find myself once again apologizing for my laziness.

A lot has happened since February. I moved out of the school hostel in that month, after my roommate, Rajaratnam, had to enter the hospital with a collapsed lung, and into an apartment, just across the road from VI. My new roommates are a fellow Peace Corps volunteer, Jim Smith, who teaches electricity at the Technical Teachers Training College, in KL, and a Japanese sales specialist for National products, Tadayuki Inoue. Our apartment is uniquely located for a maximum of “cross cultural contact": above and below us are houses of somewhat uneasy virtue, and across from our balcony is a gambling den, whose mah-jongg tiles are kept clicking 24 hours a day. Below and to the right of us live a lot of old ladies, we have surmised; they have had three Chinese funerals in the past two months. I really don’t think they can keep up the pace.  All of our neighbors are Cantonese, so I have begun lessons in that language, but so far I have found it very rough going. Cantonese has 11 tones, and without the correct tone, the word is meaningless at best, or obscene at worst. I have made any errors of both types to date, and shall unwittingly continue to do so for sometime, I am afraid.

My school duties are more extensive this year than last. I now teach 22 periods of mathematics each week, from Form four through Form six (equivalent to sophomores through seniors in American high schools), plus 3 swimming periods and three track workouts weekly. I am now the editor of Supplement, an education journal devoted to the improvement of teaching in Malaysia, and I am doing some work with the University of Malaya’s computer on weekends, so free time is a rare luxury.

I enjoyed three weeks of that rare luxury over the April school holidays by visiting my older brother Len in Sarawak, where he is teaching secondary school in a one horse (or should I say one water buffalo) town called Lawas, near the Sabah border. He and I and a few of his friends had a fine time tramping all over the map, culminating with an ascent of Mount Kinabalu, which at 13,455 feet is by far the highest mountain in Malaysia. During our travels, we introduced many of the local people to one of the greatest benefits of western civilization: the frisbee. We will not soon be forgotten in Borneo. Borneo was such an exciting place to visit for both of us that we have decided to return in December for a more extensive trip, this time inland up one of the great rivers of Sarawak.

When I returned from Sarawak and Sabah in early May, my old roommate Raja had recovered from his collapsed lung, but during the course of his treatment, the doctors had discovered cancer in both his lungs. From then on, knowing his time was limited to a few months at most, I begin to visit him almost every day, until the end came just last Monday, at 2:30 in the morning. Raja left behind a father, three brothers, four sisters and countless friends all over the country. When his death was made known to our headmaster, he ordered the school closed for the day, and the flag flown at half mast, the first time this has ever ever happened at VI.

I missed the ceremonies at school because I was needed at Raja's home in Ipoh to prepare the funeral. All Monday morning Raja's brothers and I attended to the countless little details which make up a Hindu funeral. We cleared the house to make space for the mourners, decorated it with palm shoots and mango leaves hung on strings, sought out chanters and a holy man, who would jointly performed the necessary final ceremonies, and finally ordered mangrove wood for the cremation. At five that afternoon over 100 people had come to mourn, and the ceremonies were at their height. We men then bathed the body in various liquids and juices, dressed it in Raja's best suit, and placed it in the coffin for transport to the cremation grounds. At this point emotions are traditionally displayed most openly, and in fact, we had to physically restrain his sisters, who, in their emotional excesses, might’ve accidentally caused themselves damage. It was the most heart-rending seen I have ever witnessed.

We carried the coffin to the cremation grounds, placed it upon the mangrove wood, and, after several more ceremonies, lit the fire. The next morning we returned to gather the bones, some of which were saved for a future ceremony, the rest cast into the river by Raja's father. When we returned to the house, we all took a vow to abstain from any pleasures, such as alcoholic beverages, cigarettes, TV, and so on, for a period of 31 days. I hope to return to Ipoh at the end of this period nd participate in the final mourning ceremony.  Raja was the closest friend I have ever had, and one of the most wonderful persons I have ever met. Life will not be the same for me, now that he has gone.

I just ran into this letter off the press and mailed it off all over the place, and I feel better already. Enclosed are some newspaper clipping and pictures of Sabah – please save, as usual.

Mom – you can do me a big favor, but it’s not easy: go through the photos I have sent from Malaysia, and see if you can find any of Raja (all are labeled on the back). Send them to me: I’m making up a batch to send to his family. Thank you in advance. 

P.S. my extension has been approved by Peace. Corps - Malaysia's approval is just a formality, so it looks like the university next year!

P.P.S how were your grades?