Whatever has happened to Malay literature?

I was in Frankfurt in 2009 attending an invitation programme where one of the conditions of attendance was the compulsory 2-week period of seminars and forums. Not all were bad. One of the speakers and attendee was a gentleman from Haiti, one Mr Willems Edouard of Presses Nationales d'Haiti; a personable man, I must say. He spoke about a programme in Haiti to make books available to the masses cheaply by having a government organisation publishing and selling them directly. Most attendees were horrified. What will happen to the private publishers?  How will booksellers survive? How will the industry continue to exist? I didn't say much at the forum, because even if I was there on my own, I did represent my country in a way, and it would have been hypocritical. But I talked to him afterwards. We do the same in Malaysia, I said, and it is a disaster.

Fast forward to 2013. Malaysian authors in English and (I have been told) Chinese have attained considerable international recognition. But whatever has happened to Malay literature? There is some interesting work going on in the fringes (which is very encouraging), but they thrive despite the system, not because of it. And, it even appears, Malay literature is alive and well in Singapore! I tried to come up with the names of a few current Malay literary figures off the top of my head and came up with Faisal Tehrani, and ... er ... and what's that?  Ombak rindu? Cintamu-cintaku novels? Sorry, no comment!

Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka

Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka was formed Johor Baru on June 22, 1956, as a department of the Education Ministry to promote Malay as the national and official language of the soon to be independent nation. I had just started school at that time and I remember the euphoria. We (the school children) were required to participate in all sorts of events and I remember one of my classmates collapsing dramatically on stage (due to nerves) just as he was about to start his rehearsed speech. It was fun.

Then in 1959, with the DBP ordinance, it be came a autonomous government statutory (what an oxymoron?!) body tasked with, one, determining and implementing its own policies, (two) implement programs to promote language and literature (in Malay), and, three, to get involved competitively in the book trade. There was much energy and enthusiasm in the early years. Malay literary luminaries who walked the corridors of DBP included Keris Mas, Baha Zain, Usman Awang, Kemala, Abdullah Hussein, Shamsuddin Jaafar, Anwar Rithwan, Syed Jaafar Husin, Suhaimi Haji Muhammad, Sutung Umar R.S. and Dinsman, amongst others and who were also writers in their own right. And as a schoolboy, I would hear many of those names and the likes of Arena Wati, S Othman Kelantan, Shannon Ahmad and A Samad Said, and recognise them as writers of awe and repute. That was the period before the nineties when Malay literature lived. The subject matter featured prominently in their work was mainly post-colonial angst and schmaltzy nationalism, which is understandable for the times.

"If we don´t succeed, we run the risk of failure"... George W. Bush

57 years later, in the new millennium, there are large numbers of Malaysians who still cannot (or will not) ask for the price of vegetables at the Bangsar night market in Malay. (Okay, maybe, Bangsar is different county. Still?)

Not long ago (I think it was about 2 years) Amir had this story to tell. He was on a television talk-show with some others, and the host asked a guest, a local university professor type, who his favourite author was. A Samad Said, came the reply. Amir said he almost fell off his chair. (The good author might have been flattered, but mortified too.) Hasn't he read anything else? He told the host that his was Sufian Abas of Kasut Biru Rubina fame. There would be many who'd object to that anecdote indignantly with a 'so what'. I have another story for that. A friend who claims that his favourite author is William Shakespeare, from whose work he'd spew quotes at the slightest provocation. He's weird, I used to think. Then, I learned that he had never read a play by the bard, not watched a performance. He, however, had memorised a book of quotes. Yes, you'd recognise him. He'd be the one trying to speak to the makcik selling pisang goreng at the night market in English or in really bad Malay!

So, whose fault is it? DBP? They have certainly failed in two out of their three objectives. Could it be they have they not been allowed to do their job? (That wouldn't be surprising.) Why do we have so many government and quasi-government bodies involved in the book trade, for such a small reading population, anyway? (DBP, MBKM, ITBM, Kota Buku ... But, the news coming out is not good: territoriality, empire building, back-biting, sabotage, you name it.)

If you have been given a job and have not succeeded after more than half a century, should that be considered failure? This is not about calling someone's baby ugly. This is about telling someone that the baby he or she is dandling is dead, and has been for a while, and no amount of stout denials is going to bring it back to life. Question is: should they even be allowed to look after babies anymore?

According to the Malaysian norm, for failed institutions in the country, DBP will be allowed another 50 years to do more of the same? Do they deserve the extension of time? Will they be allowed to change? To do the job they have been set up to do? To progress?