Hari Raya Aidilfitri Part I: Pak Lah's Open House

So this weekend was Hari Raya Aidilfitri and I am pleased to report that Ben and I found an excuse to wear our new traditional Malay clothes. In fact, we had a really great weekend. I feel like we succeeded in getting a real taste of just how Malays celebrate this holiday without having to balik kampung. Now I know this is a lazy way to blog but since I have already written fieldnotes for myself about our activities for the day, I thought I would cheat and just post them. The following only covers the first half of our day but its a pretty good start, we will share the rest with you soon.

Date: 13-10-2007
Time: 1PM-2:30PM
Place: Pak Lah’s Open House at PWTC (Putra World Trade Center).
People in Attendance: Open to the Public from 12:30 to 5PM

General Description: This is the Prime Minster’s/Governments annual Hari Raya Aidilfitri Open House. Held at PWTC, UMNO’s headquarters in KL, this annual celebration is open to all who wish to come. There is no admission fee, just show up at the door wait in the crowded line and you get to shake hands with the Deputy Prime Minister (the Prime Minister opens the majlis but retires to a separate room to host special VIP guests) and other ‘important folk’ and most importantly, get your grub on for free. This year the government expected about 200,000 guests between the hours of 12:30 and 5PM. Something like 50,000 kg of meat, vegetables, fruits and other goods were purchased to prepare the 30 different types of dishes on offer at the Open House. Dishes include Hari Raya staples like rendang (delicious spicy coconut smothered chicken or beef), ketupat (steamed rice wrapped in woven banana leaves), lemang (sticky rice cooked inside a bamboo trunk with coconut milk) and of course, many kinds of kuih (cakes) and cookies. The government spent RM1.5 on the event with 600 employees and 76 cooks giving up their holiday.

Eyewitness description: Woke up late this morning, no need for sahur, outstanding. Could eat and wake up at my leisure. Outside the Hari Raya Aidilfitri prayers sounded over the local surau’s PA system. Made me realize that Malays still had to arise early in order to get the family ready for this special ‘service’ at the mosque. Glad I am not Malay. Beginning at 8:30 in the morning and lasting only an hour or so, this morning visit to the mosque marks the start of Hari Raya Aidilfitri, then it is off to the cemetery or home for visiting with family and friends.

Ben and I definitely were not going to the mosque and were not sure if we would even get to make use of our baju Hari Raya, yet I still felt festive. After a month of fasting there was much to celebrate today, waking up late, eating whenever I wanted, not needing to chug 1.5 liters of water first thing in the morning, I felt free and elated. I think the feeling was infectious because by the end of breakfast both Ben and I were itching to take part in the festivities. We knew that the Prime Minister was hosting a open house at PWTC and had talked about going but were wary of the crowds and Ben’s ability to manage them. I mean a reported 200,000 people were going to attend and that is a scary crowd for even a healthy patient person. But this morning we were feeling bold and decided that if the crowd was too much we would just head across the street to McDonald’s instead. At least, we would get out of the apartment and just eating during the day was excitement enough for me. So we put on our new baju Hari Raya and hit the streets feeling hopeful.

All Dressed Up and Not Sure Where to Go

The taxi dropped us at the front of the PWTC and from the outside things looked promising. There was no evidence of a line though many people were strolling towards the door. I have to admit that immediately I was struck by how many Malays were in the crowd. I don’t know why but I thought we would find mostly tourists, Indians and Chinese. I figured this was a Malay holiday so the Malays would be visiting ‘real’ open houses in their native kampungs with family. I was wrong, the crowd was truly mixed. Indian families, Chinese families, Malay families and even a notable number of inappropriately dressed tourists (I mean of course, there is no need to wear baju kurang and Melayu like Ben and I, but shorts, t-shirts, flip-flops like they are lining up at Disneyland, just doesn’t seem right.) were in attendance.

The Unlucky Masses who had to Wait

The throngs of people did thicken immensely once we got in the door and we were afraid that we would have to leave. There was no way Ben could survive the mass of bodies slowly pushing their way forward. It would take hours of waiting and standing amongst pushy Malaysians. However, before we even had a chance to become disappointed it was made clear to us that we would not have to wait in line. Security guard after security guard ushered us around the crowd, to the front of the line, and then when we weren’t sure where to go next, into an elevator and up to the VIP section upstairs. We were admittedly confused throughout the whole process. It is a feeling I am getting used to. I am sure it comes with the territory of spending time in any foreign place but I get the sense that in Malaysia things are especially confusing. Malaysians abide by a hard and fast rule of ‘no explanation necessary’ or even ‘no response necessary’. I am just now starting to realize that when I tell the taxi driver where I want to go, no answer means he understands, I should get in, and let’s get going. To every ‘where should we go?’, I got a nod, a point, and at last, a comprehensible ‘to the lif and level four’ but never once did Ben and I know where they were intending to take us or what the heck was going on. So when we finally arrived in the VIP section, amongst the media, directly behind the Prime Minister, we were completely clueless of our surroundings. We just sat in the corner and slowly took it all in. Unfortunately, realization and understanding occurred so slowly that I did not have my camera ready when the Prime Minister breezed past us shaking everyone’s hand along the way. Ben and I are always taken with the relaxed way the Prime Minister and others high up in the government interact with the public. Though there is security, it is nothing as orchestrated, tense or obvious as in the US. It is all so casual.

We did manage to get interviewed by one of the local TV stations. I am really hopeful they do not air it or at least, I never see it. I was so American touristy. My friends asked did you speak Malay and of course, I did not, should have but put a camera in front of me and I am lucky if I am able to speak. I hate to be on camera. I said ‘Hari Raya is fun, I like Malaysia, I can’t wait to eat all kinds of good food, Happy Hari Raya’. Ben was not much better. He said much the same but was suffering from such a tremor at the time, I wanted to desperately interrupt and tell him to sit down. I have a strong feeling we didn’t make the cut and they found themselves more attractive and less camera shy tourists to interview.

At this point, we finally spotted the entrance to the food hall, outside which throngs of people were standing. We breezed up to the open doors and around the mass of people and were promptly let into the giant food hall. This meant missing the opportunity to shake hands with the Deputy Prime Minister but he is kind of a dweeb and Ben already spent some time at his residence, which is way cooler than shaking his hand anyway. In this new hall, there were five 50 meter long tables covered with trays of food. We were ushered to an empty aisle because of Ben and were able to fill our plates at leisure. There were all kinds of cookies and cakes, which we managed to fill a plate with. Then there was fried rice, three kinds of fried noodles, beef rendang, chips, sticky rice, lemang, fried chicken, I am sure I a missing others but you get the point, lots of food. By the time we reached, the end of the line we had amassed an impressive looking feast for the two of us and headed down the escalators to the large hall of dining tables. The room was not too crowded yet since we had cut past everyone so we had our choice of seats and got to eating quickly.

Jangan Malu, Makan-Makan (Don't be Shy Get your Grub On)

Once again though we proved to be shy about our gluttony compared to many Malaysians. The piles on the plates of people coming down the escalators were incredible. Notably, it was not just the Malays. In fact, if I had to testify it was the Malays who exhibited the most restraint while the Indians and Chinese were unafraid to carry two and three overly full plates down the escalators. I actually took a picture of one man who had three plates overflowing with food. I wanted to stick around to see if he would actually eat it all, I would not be surprised if he did.

We did not stay long, just a brief 1 hour and a half hours. We truthfully ate and ran but it was lots of fun and we were extremely pleased we did it. We felt that our Hari Raya outing was such a success that we even dared to try to attend the Open House at the national palace. Sadly, it took us an RM20 taxi ride to discover that the majlis was already over. We weren’t too fazed by the slight shower on our parade and headed back towards home with plans to make a quick stop at our friend Hamidon’s.

It is worth noting that I have hesitated to buy baju kurang before now for more than its extremely unflattering style. It was actually more a result of feeling ‘funny’ about wearing another culture’s traditional style of dress. Same with the sari, which I do find beautiful and often think about buying. There is just something that makes me feel like it would be received as strange, rude, or something. I don’t know what but just as not good. I was wrong. Wearing the baju kurang today was fun. At first, I felt like I was playing dress up but by the end of the day I felt like I fit in, I felt comfortable. I noticed that most Malays that saw Ben and I dressed up in our special baju Hari Raya were pleased. They smiled at us extra friendly, at each other not in a snide way but a genuine way, like they were proud to see us in their traditional dress. I think it was a gesture received as it was intended, as respectful and an effort to take part in their culture. I was even told by a girl at the train station that I looked very pretty, in the most sincere way. What a surprisingly nice experience, leaves me wondering what in my own culture made me feel so reluctant about participating this way. Haven’t figured it out yet, but definitely worth pondering.

I am still working on finishing my Part II: Hari Raya at Hamidon’s field notes so you will have to tune in later for the conclusion to our big day.