An encounter with rally goers – Jun Kit

Earlier today (September 16), I entered a KTM train carriage full of rally goers. I stood, surrounded by them, so red, so loud. The air smelled like evaporating sweat.

I looked around, seeing surprised faces – I was the only Cina in sight. I felt uncomfortably conspicuous, like a virus that had infiltrated a vein: I wore white, I was so quiet, so still.

This Cina Babi who surely must have voted for D-A-Pig, who is plotting to take away what was ours, this ungrateful pendatang.

This Cina Babi is "same same" like Lim Kit Siang, demonic Pig King who is set to destroy Our Kind if we're not careful; the placards don't lie, the speeches don't lie...

A man in front of me, in sunglasses and a "Bangkitlah Melayu" T-shirt shifted in his seat.

Something I was holding made him uncomfortable: a postcard from the Malaysian Design Archives, featuring a female figure in place of Tunku Abdul Rahman, doing the iconic Merdeka salute.

The postcard was used as a bookmark to the book I was reading.

I handed it to the man – he really wanted to look. I sensed confusion, anger even? I could see furrowed brows through his tinted aviators.

"Apa ni? Dari mane ni? Siape ni?" he asked. I tried my best to explain.

The train carriage was hushed. This Cina was speaking, exchanging conversation with One of Us. This Cina whom we are told to hate, just because he is Cina.

I was scared. He looked unconvinced, turning the postcard around, passing it to his friend before handing it back to me.

I tried to change the subject.

"Dari Merbok?" I asked. They nodded.

"Stop kat stesen mane?"

"Shah Alam..."

I smiled, trying to hide the slight quivering of my lips. Things got back to normal after I stopped being curious.

At Kampung Dato' Harun station, the man left the train, together with many others. I managed to get a seat, next to a sleepy rally goer, a boy with unruly hair.

The train journeyed on. Seri Setia. Setia Jaya. The boy got sleepier. His head limped sideways, drooping down slow-motion towards my shoulder. A bit of his hair grazed my neck, tickling.

Before I could feel the true weight of his sleepyhead on me, the train jolted a little – and so did he – awakened again, upright, with eyes still closed. – www.facebook.com/junkit.b,