THE controversies over the rules of conduct for non-Muslim students during fasting month are again upon us. This year, I thought about what I would say to a class of religiously mixed schoolchildren if I were their teacher. Here’s what I would tell them:

“I am not sure if you have read the news or whether your parents have told you anything about it. But since this is a common topic in Ramadan, I hope to speak to you all about it. I figure if these incidents began in the classroom, then the classroom and not Facebook is the best place to have a conversation about it.

Here’s where I will start: I will not make any hard, fast rules about what you can or cannot do. Here’s what I learnt in life: I need rules but I hate them. Some rules are necessary, no doubt. But most of the time, rules are about setting up hierarchies. It’s about saying who’s superior to the other; who gets to boss the other around.

You will see more of that when you grow up because this world is, unfortunately, full of inequalities. And people who make rules to benefit themselves. But I certainly want the minimum of that here.

It goes without saying that you should treat each other with respect. As equals. As friends. As comrades who have to ‘suffer’ together in this mini-hierarchy we have here: when I talk, you listen. But you will get to ask questions later, I promise.

This is, of course, not a blank cheque for you to act however you want, not least being disrespectful to your friends who are fasting. Consideration of others, tolerance, and respect are virtues that do not have a time limit, nor are they something you can expect from others without first exhibiting them yourself. Suffice to say, if it’s conduct I wouldn’t tolerate on normal days, it’s something I wouldn’t tolerate this month as well.

However, I think it is unhelpful to speak about Ramadan as if it is about setting boundaries. I don’t think that’s the spirit of the event. As far as I have observed, it is actually a time when people treated each other kinder. At least I was treated kinder.

I have fond memories of my time as a university student in Kelantan during Ramadan because the food sold for lunch in the cafe for non-Muslims (since we were the only ones eating) was actually more delicious than usual. Of course, there were the Ramadan bazaars and it was a time when I could eat without getting fat, but I digress.

No doubt our Muslim friends here would have to set boundaries for themselves during Ramadan because it’s a month of reflection, resolve, and restraint. But I think this is also a time when we can dissolve some boundaries too.

Living as we all do in a Muslim-majority country where Ramadan surrounds us, from Yusuf Taiyoob ads to Raya songs in supermarkets to Khairul Aming’s mouth-watering recipes on Tiktok, we might as well take the opportunity to look past the many artificial boundaries setting us apart.

So, I will propose this: that, as non-Muslims, we be more curious and more understanding of our Muslim friends. And as Muslims, we be more open about our experiences to our non-Muslim friends here.

I say this not out of some feelgood sense of muhibah but a deep realisation that we cannot sugar-coat the fact that in Malaysia, our lived experiences remain segmented by race and religion, even though we are sharing a classroom here.

We have many questions that we feel it’s better not to ask. We have so many disagreements that we feel it’s best to stay silent. And we have many feelings we feel better not shared, not least with those who we think are different from us. So, we look for hard and immovable rules, thinking they will make our lives easier.

But that’s not going to happen.

Rules that are unexplained (and they often are unexplained when powerful people impose them on others) only make us distrust each other more. They create room for second-guessing while causing our natural curiosity about each other to slowly turn into prejudice. Without curiosity, we cannot dissolve boundaries.

Speaking as a non-Muslim with a severe gastric problem, I am genuinely curious about how my Muslim friends manage to refrain from food and drink for such long hours. What do they know, and what drives them to abstain when the general ethos in this consumerist world is to indulge? What can we learn from them?

And I hope our Muslim friends can let us know how amazing, amusing, or even annoying it is to fast in a society with a substantial non-Muslim presence. Because I believe that’s something unique to the Malaysian puasa experience. And God willing, it always will be.

I bring up “understanding” here because too often we think “respect” means a fear of offending. I don’t think fear is productive for friendships. We don’t become BFFs with the people we fear. We get closer to people as we try to understand them.

After understanding, we do our best to accommodate, and if it’s possible and fair to do so, to prioritise the special needs of our friends. Like if you have a birthday cake during Ramadan, it’s probably best to cut it after iftar so that everyone can eat it.

I trust everyone to appreciate this without me, or the school, having to set rules. Because you are young adults, and I trust your judgment. 

But more importantly, I trust you to trust your friends. That you trust them to have your best interests at heart and that whatever perceived slight from them that you might feel, you trust that they did not intend it. And I trust that you know how to forgive better than adults.

I believe Ramadan is also a month of forgiveness and mercy. And that’s what I expect of all of you, be you Muslim, Buddhist, Christian, Hindu, or atheist. Above all, be you kind souls who will inherit this messy – and beautiful – country of ours.

Selamat berpuasa”. – April 12, 2022.
 

* A Forensic Science-Asian Studies hybrid, Nicholas Chan is interested in how authority is shaped, exercised, and more importantly, resisted in Southeast Asia.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.