A Most Peculiar Malaysian Murder

Kuala Lumpur had a certain something… There was a sense of freedom perhaps, of anarchy even, that Singapore so sorely lacked. Perhaps it was the lack of deference to authority, the physical space, the ability to take a step back and enjoy a moment of quite that lent Kuala Lumpur its atmosphere. Singaporeans were always adding to the list of reasons each one kept to hand, in case they met a Malaysian, of why it was so much better on the island than the peninsula. They ranged from law and order to cleanliness, from clean government to good schools, and always ended on the strength of the Singaporean economy. But in the end, the Malaysian would nod as if to agree to the points made – and then shrug to indicate that they probably wouldn’t trade passports, not really. And if pressed for a reason they would fall back on that old chestnut which somehow seemed to capture everything that was wrong about Singapore – but your government bans chewing gum. The nanny state and the police state all rolled into one.

Surviving in the jungle for any length of time was near impossible. Cuts turned to gangrene. Scratches became infected. Leeches latched on in a bloodthirsty frenzy. Clothes and shoes rotted in the intense humidity. Rainstorms washed away strength. Food was scarce. And there was always the threat of centipedes and cobras to make each step forward an adventure.

Asians of their generation were not tactile. Affection was expressed, if at all, through food. To make an effort over dinner, to have a few extra dishes, to remember what someone liked best and serve it piping hot - that was the way to show family feeling.

Police work was rarely complicated. Locked-door mysteries and multiple suspects were the stuff of fiction. Usually, the person last heard threatening to kill someone who was later found dead was the murderer.

exaggerate - it was a fairy tale. Rich