Thoughts while stationary: Teacher and Student I remain

One of the tenets of therapy is the idea that we are always both a teacher and a student. I have always marvelled at how much I have learnt from people I've helped. This ride was a little about both. I have mentioned previously how I have not the audacity to believe I am an evangelising nationalist riding on a carpet of rose petals, spreading the message of love all around.

No, I ride trailing sweat and picking up oil, sand and dirt. But also ideas...

I have tried to ride with an open mind. No judgement for I am tired of that - in an urban environment, 'every day' is indeed 'judgement day' and one grows weary of dealing with that. Instead, I have striven to rediscover... but you know all that already.

A few days ago, I learnt a great deal. Not new lessons, necessarily, but some old lessons revisited in an unlikely place, from an unlikely source.

The lessons were about openness, about humility, about warmth and kindness. About being a human being, and not, as I like to quote, just a human doing.

The lessons came from a couple of cousins. One by his action, and the other by his words. One had travelled geographically, the other not. Yet both, together, filled me at a point when my own reserves of optimism were a trifle low.

I have written about Supriani and Hamzah and how when my rear tyre blew, they helped me solve my immediate problem and got me going again.

Now let me tell you a bit more about Supriani.

Here's someone who's been through some tough times. He went into business fairly young and inexperienced and was at the wrong side of a partnership where some partners failed to live up to their commitments. He was declared a bankrupt and had to endure a few years of struggle to climb out again.

But climb out he did. He worked for someone else first - gathered knowledge and began to pay off debts. Then he set out on his own again, a little more prepared this time. The bengkel he now runs is a modest affair, tacked on to his own half-completed house. He is not one to sit still. During the few hours I was at his workshop, he attended to a couple of bikes, then took me to town to look for my tyres, then attended to some metal work on a wheel barrow (!) and back to a couple of other bikes again. He also took a little time off to pick up his kids from school - he has four children. He was never hurried nor harried, but he certainly kept himself busy. Hamzah later told me of how Supriani has never turned away from helping people - even the motorcyclist who knocked on his door late one night afert suffering a blowout nearby.

There is no award waiting for him - his struggles are probably not very different from those of some around him. What did mark him out, however, was his humility and commitment. He helped me choose tyres, advising me when he felt the ones on display were not of sufficient quality. He took me around - and not a short distance too - never once complaining nor reluctant. He didn't rush me, but throughout the afternoon was full of patient, good humour.

Being from an advertising and design background, I've met my fair share of rude, obnoxious, patronising, condescending people. This was as far from those stereotypes as I could get I reckon.

Hamzah. Supriani's older cousin. A general worker who's worked in Penang, Muar, Singapore, and now back here. What I liked about Hamzah was his great desire to learn and better himself. He's avoided biting off more than he can chew and on one occasion refused a project offered to him as he felt he had neither the skills nor the experience to do a good job. Not for him was the opportunistic attitude - he believed strongly that you did a fair day's work for your wages and no less.

Hamzah is a little older than me, but his two kids are younger than my Mark and Megan. His hair is graying a little at the edges and his speech has the calm manner of one who has gained wisdom through experience.

He has a slow, unhurried demeanour and our afternoon passed pleasantly as a direct result. We spoke frankly on a few subjects and I repeat here Hamzah's opinions. Perhaps you'll get a sense of how awed I was at his simple, humble approach to life.

He's earned much and he's earned little before. He's learnt from both conditions. He's also tried to better his prospects by studying those around him. He says he's tried to learn from his Chinese friends and has a theory that the emphasis they place on they children's education, especially in Maths, gives them an edge in problem sloving. This is something he feels the Malays can learn from and he tries to get his own kids to do just that.

He also finds the Chinese very focussed on results and getting things done. He reckons you can learn honesty from the Chinese - he related how once he paid a little to buy a pair of shoes on installment. In those days, some shops gave you an instalment scheme where you could pay a little a month and once you'd paid up, you'd receive the goods. A clever scheme when you think of it. Well, Hamzah paid a little towards a new pair of shoes but then stopped paying and never received the shoes. 20 years later he walked past the shop again and the shopkeeper recognised him and called out to him... and gave him back his money! Hamzah was astounded!

Now I may have my own stereotypes of the Chinese Shopkeeper and they may not exactly match Hamzah's opinion, but Hamzah believed honesty to be a great part of their success and he was adamant about sticking to that principle.

All the time we discussed the attributes of the various races, according to Hamzah, he spoke with great humility and respect. Never a trace of envy whatsoever.

Should he have? Are we so conditioned to think envy is a natural prerequisite of human interaction?

Well, he had none.

We both agreed that life in the City encourages envy. He has seen how people who were 'good' people changed once they were thrust into a city environment. We reckoned that in the process of growth, something is lost - when villages become towns, and when towns become cities, a great part of the human quality is gone.

My Roadkill comment applies here it seems.

In cities, Hamzah reckons, everyone is rushing for goals and objectives. He feels cities are founded and thrive on a 'me first' mentality. In kampungs, everyone struggles to some extent so the solidarity is there. We're in this together. Everyone helps each other. This is indeed a thought that has been growing within me recently.

Hamzah has a clear view of what constitutes the failings of various groups of Malaysians and can see his own weaknesses too. At no point did he show any resentment. In fact he was particularly harsh on some of his kampung folk who had little but felt compelled to show off. One saying he had had me laughing hard. In describing the various ethnic attributes, he said, 'If you want to "aksyen" (show off, flaunt, be ostentatious even beyond your means) then be like a Malay...'

Well, not these two Malays.