Ekonomi/Bisnis

Khamis, 18 April 2024

Indigenous Perspectives From The Malay Archipelago: Malay Descriptions Of The West Before 1876. By Prof. Dr. Ahmad Murad Merican

Oleh Nik Abdul Rakib Bin Nik Hassan

Tulisan Prof. Dr. Ahmad Murad Merican ini diambil dari Laman web www.malayheritage.gov.sg iaitu Laman web Malay Heritage Center Istana Kampong Gelam. Dan telah minta izin dari Prof. Dr. Ahmad Murad Merican.

Prof. Dr. Ahmad Murad Merican 

The “Ferringhi’ (sometimes “Ferringi”, “Ferringghi”) is perhaps the most known (archaic) moniker of the Western Other in Malay consciousness. The other is “Orang Putih.” We know that Batu Ferringhi is in Pulau Pinang. If we translate the name of that well-known beach area, it would mean “foreigner’s rock”. Not many take the name seriously. I had imagined how the Malays in Kedah, like the Malays in Melaka earlier or at the same time, had likened the foreigner a Ferringhi (meaning foreiqgner or outsider). It depicts an early encounter between East and West. Early Portuguese fleets, carrying hundreds of Portuguese who had little prior interaction with non-Christians, were perceived as the “Franks” by the larger non-European Asian population, especially in the immediate geopolitical and cultural proximity of Turkey, the Arab World and Persia. The Muslims who first encountered the Portuguese brought the idea of the “Franks” as the people who had attacked the holy places during the Crusades.


The Farsi “Farang” or “Farangi”, from the Farsi meaning European, was derived from the “Franks” It refers to the identity of the Franks (hence Frankish), once the major (West) Germanic tribe ruling Western Europe." It is from the old French word franc, meaning “Frank,” meaning Europeans. Some attributed Farang to the Arabic “afranj”. Hence, we hear of the “Faranj”, “Franji”, “Paranki”, “Parangiar”, and, of course, “Ferringhi”. The Farang also has a place in contemporary Thai intellectual and popular thought. (The late Thai anthropologist) Pattana Kitiarsa in a paper titled “Farang as Siamese Occidentalism” (2005) re-read and re-interpreted Thai historical and cultural constructions of the Farang.


Taking it as a reflexive subject to recapture its impact on the making and remaking of the Thai-self, he sees the idea of the Farang as “the wicked Other for the Thai. From time to time, the West has been represented as the giant, tricky wolf, while Siam the little helpless and innocent lamb”. A “Self-indulgent nationalism” robbing the production of thoughtful self criticism. While there is the “us-them” distinction, there was no presumption of moral or cultural superiority involved in the Malay categorisation of the Ferringgi as the Other. One of my earliest memories on narrations of Malay encounters with the West was the term “Benggali Putih” (White Bengalis) in a primary school history textbook from a chapter on the Portuguese in Melaka.


The Malays have made classifications on other peoples throughout history. We know this from early modern Portuguese records and of descriptions by the Malays from classical texts and epics. Malay perception of the Portuguese in the 16th century gives an idea of the first direct impact of these “Franks” in Southeast Asia. Historian Anthony Reid in his book Charting the Shape of Early Modern Southeast Asia (1999) describes the mission of Diego Lopez de Sequeira arriving in Melaka in September 1509. The account from the Sejarah Melayu pictured the Portuguese arrival as: “Then there came a Feringgi ship from Goa, and it came to trade in Melaka. The Feringgi saw that the city of Melaka was magnificent, and its port was exceedingly crowded. The people crowded round to see what the Feringgi looked like, and they were all surprised at their appearance.” The Melaka Malays likened the Portuguese to the Bengalis rather than Arabs where the latter “had to be respected on religious grounds, however much laughed at privately, but Bengalis were more numerous and more resented in Melaka.” Citing Portuguese chronicler Tomé Pires (1515), when the Malays want to insult a man, they call him a Bengali, “alleged to be sharp-witted but treacherous”.


Generally Malay accounts of the arrival of the Feringgi are morally neutral. To the Melaka Malays, or the various Malays in the Malay archipelago then, the Europeans represented just another element — and were always welcome. We find in indigenous and colonial sources that foreign merchants were acknowledged and honoured figures in the diplomatic practice of the region. And language was not a problem, for the lingua franca was always Bahasa Melayu. Malay classical texts have a way of describing the geographical and cultural location, hence self-identity — that of by reference to the term “atas angin” (above the wind) and “bawah angin” (below the wind). The former refers to the Indo-Persian world, the Arab world, Rome (usually described as Rum) and all points West. The latter refers to the Malays and other peoples of the East — most obvious are the Chinese and the Japanese. Indeed, the Malays initially perceived the Europeans as a kind of people from “atas angin” who were distinguished by pale skin and round eyes and displayed effectiveness with their shipboard cannon, armour and firearms.


The description by local Malay rulers of early encounters with the Ferringgis can also be described as the first Malay “ethnography” of the Europeans. And not always flattering at that. As we find in Italian explorer Antonio Pigafetta (1524), when Magellan’s men reached the Philippines, a Muslim merchant in the port of Cebu explained to its raja that “these were the same Feringgi who had conquered Calicut and Melaka”. Despite accounts in Sejarah Melayu, Hikayat Hang Tuah, Hikayat Tanah Hitu among the many Malay classical text across the Malay archipelago, the conception of the Ferringi is unlike that of the Thai Farang. The Ferringi, conceived as the “unproblematic Other”, was everywhere in the Malay archipelago.


Hence, the presence of the Europeans in the Malay Archipelago was not unusual before the period of colonial rule. And such presence was either in actual encounters (Barnard 2014, Murtagh 2007, Reid 1999, 1993) or in classical narratives described as within the mythical and metaphysical realms (Braginsky 2013). The Malay world has been exposed to other worlds and civilisations long before the Europeans arrived. The Malays are familiar with the Feringghi, in popular Malay thought referring to the Portuguese and Belanda – the Malay word for Dutch – through a host of oral and written traditions which manifest themselves in Malay norms and sayings.


Before the arrival of the West in the sixteenth century, we know from a variety of sources that a multitude of different peoples had been visiting the Malay Archipelago in particular (and Southeast Asia in general). The Europeans who first arrived in Southeast Asia were often astonished by the fabulous wealth and diversity of trade and traders that they found here. And, conversely, as Murtagh (2007) notes in his Introduction to The Portrayal of Foreigners in Indonesian and Malay Literatures, the inhabitants of the Malay Archipelago were used to seeing a wide assortment of people coming to their ports and were not at all amazed at the arrival of Europeans, who represented just another aspect of that diversity (p.1).


Apart from the Europeans, a large number of peoples from various areas of the world had visited and traded in the Malay Archipelago for centuries. They were part of extensive networks from China to India, and to West Asia and the Mediterranean region. Another term us, more inclusive than the “Ferringhi” was atas angin. From West Asia which includes India westwards – the peoples of atas angin (above the wind) as a Malay geographical and ethnic marker – formed at least semi-permanent communities in the main trading cities. Most often than not, these atas angin ethnicities from the littoral areas of the Indian Ocean, formed new communities in the Malay Archipelago, configuring upon the culture and world views in the port areas such as Tanjong, Melaka, Singapura, Medan and Batavia. The oft-quoted account of Portuguese historian Tome Pires mentions 1,000 Gujerati merchants, 4,000 Persians, Bengalis, Arabs together with a sizeable number of Tamils (Pires 1944, 254-5).


As a matter of comparison, the other ethnic marker (and self-identity) of the Malays is bawah angin (below the wind), referring to most obviously the Chinese, and the Japanese. While the atas angin in the Ferringhi was in the immediate environment and the observable past, that of Rum seems to represent a revered, an almost sacred realm in the traditional Malay psyche. In the narrative of Hang Tuah, we find that Melaka had become a significant power in the region and the Malay Archipelago, and it wanted to establish relationships with powers of the negeri di atas angin (lands above the wind) such as Rum, Egypt, and Makkah. Accordingly, Hang Tuah led missions to Majapahit, Kalinga, Brunei, Acheh, and Rum.


On a few occasions, he or representatives of the Sultan, bought gems and elephants, to reflect their prosperity and, of necessity, purchased weapons from Rum, as Melaka was being threatened by an invasion from the Ferringhi (Portuguese). The unknown author of Hang Tuah portrayed Hang Tuah as a much respected statesman in the various polities of the Malay Archipelago and also that of “Byzantium, the outpost of Rome.” Rum also refers to the region of the farthest extent of Hellenism and the Occidental reach in Asia. This would stretch until the regions located toward the north of the Indian sub-continent, geographically and culturally adjoining what is now the Turkish-speaking areas in central Asia. Perhaps a re-reading of Rum as narrated by such texts, including other known ones such as the Hikayat Merong Mahawangsa is inevitable to demythologise the expanse of the Malay worldview. The Raja Rum, whether understood to be a Greek, Persian, or Turkish ruler, is a popular figure in traditional Malay literature. An array of the kings of Rum occurs in many Malay literary genres conjuring images in the Malay imagination. From the known (or unknown) writers, we know much of Malay society, encounters with and influences from the outside world, as the Malay would say dari dunia luar.


Apart from Malay travels to India and China in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries as well as Arabia from the period of Islamisation onward, of note were Malays who traveled inland into mainland Southeast Asia. An account of a Malay trader who was met by two Dutch factors in Vientiane in 1642 was noted in Reid (1993, 53).


Encounters with those from outside the Malay Archipelago was the convention for the Malays. Malays knew much of the world then. That such outside knowledge was incorporated locally, at least selectively was exemplified by the evidence contained in Albuquerque’s letter to Manuel I of Portugal (1495-1521), where he wrote of a map with place names written in Javanese, which he (Albuquerque) had obtained from a Javanese pilot.


A large map of a Javanese pilot, containing the Cape of Good Hope, Portugal, and the land of Brazil, the Red Sea and the Sea of Persia, the Clove Islands, the navigation of the Chinese and the Gores (Ruyukkan; B.M)…and the hinterland, and how the kingdoms border on each other. (Albuquerque to King Manuel, 1512, translated in Cortesão, 1944, Ixxviii).


How can we be certain that there were Malay encounters with the West and other di atas angin peoples as well as those of orang-orang di bawah angin? The marker of “below the wind” could be derived from Malay encounters with the Persians. This is found in descriptions of early Siam from a Persian source. In Ibn Muhammad Ibrahim’s The Ship of Sulaiman the author was describing Bangkok (mentioned as Suban) as a flourishing town. The following description suggests bawah angin as a Persian identity marker for countries in the East:


All around us were trees that never feel the withering touch of autumn, trees as flourishing as the youthful hopes which old men nourish in their hearts. Most countries of Below the Winds 3 evade the grip of autumn. The meadows and the trees keep their skirts free from the chill touch of winter. But this garden spot is surely the most blessed of all these regions. (4)


How did the Malays describe them? Before the 1800s, Malays did not write memoirs, travelogues, or any form such as the modern essay. But the Europeans did. Many of the European encounters with the peoples in the Malay world are known through writings in journals, memoirs, biographies, travelogues, notes, narrations, and chronicles. One such early record, relates Murtagh (2007), was provided by the Englishman Edmund Scot who was in Java from February 1602 until October 1605. His account described the attitude of the local inhabitants toward the English, and the Dutch. The confusion of the locals regarding the various European groupings was revealed when, on the occasion of the commemoration of the Queen’s coronation, the local chiefs could not understand why not all Europeans were celebrating. There was confusion as to the different political allegiances of the Europeans. Significantly, Scot’s remark on the local children’s reaction to the Dutch and English serves as an early record of Malay reaction to the European Other:


Many others did aske us, why the English men at the other house did not so (celebrate; B.M.): wee told them, that they were no English men, but Hollanders […] In the after noone I caused our men to walke abroad the Towne, and the Market, whereby the people might take notice of them, and the red and white Scarfes and Hatbands made such a showe, that the inhabitants of those parts had never seene the like, so that even after that day, wee were knowne from the Hollanders, and many times the Children in the streets would runne after us, crying Oran Engrees bayk, oran Hollanda Jahad, which is, the English men are good, the Hollanders are naught (Scot in Purchas 1905, II, 457-58).


There was, however, one exception. This can be seen in the largest collection of Malay letters in the world – the Light Letters – catalogued as MS40320. The Letters, earlier endowed to King’s College in 1835, were later reposited at the School of African and Oriental Studies (SOAS), University of London in 1816. The Letters are part of the larger Marsden Collection. William Marsden in 1827 describes the Letters as Malay correspondence, consisting chiefly of letters from the Rajahs and principal native merchants of the Peninsular and neighboring islands, addressed to Capt. Francis Light and Capt. James Scott of Pulo Pinang. In several Portfolios (Marsden 1827, 304) (Bibliotheca Marsdeniana Philologica et orientalis. A catalogue of books and manuscripts, collected with a view to the general comparison of languages, and to the study of oriental literature (London). Printed by J.L. Cox.)


In a later published catalogue, it was described as:

MS40320

A collection of several hundred Malay letters in 11 bundles. Consisting primarily of correspondences received (with some copies of letter sent) by Capt. Francis Light and Capt. James Scott of Penang from (and to) rulers and dignitaries of Malay Sultanates in the A.D. 1780s and 1790s. But there are also items from Acheh, Jambi, Indragiri, Minangkabau, Palembang, Pedir, Siak, and other places in Sumatera, from Brunei and Sambas, and from Tidore.

Various papers, various sizes. Marsden collection. See Marsden, 1827, p. 304. Some of these letters published with English translations in Marsden, 1812, pp. 137-57.

(In M.C. Ricklefs, P. Voorhoeve and Annabel Teh Gallop (2014) Indonesian Manuscripts in Great Britain. Jakarta: Ecole Française d’Extrême-Orient, Perpustakaan Nasional Republik Indonesia and Yayasan Pustaka Obor Indonesia).


The correspondence, mainly between 1771 and 1794, represents an episode of early encounters of the Malays in the Peninsula, Sumatra, Borneo, and the various islands in the eastern part of the Malay Archipelago with the West. It represents a complex relationship especially between the rulers of Kedah and Francis Light as a representative of a foreign institution. Generally from the letters, the Malays accept Francis Light as one of them, but with varying degrees of respect and reverence.


The period of correspondence was some years away from the emergence of Malay writing in the modern sense. One of the earliest was Ahmad Rijaluddin Hakim Long Kandu’s travel to Calcutta in 1810, and, probably on the prompting of a European, recorded his impressions. 5 Another was Abdullah bin ‘Abdul Kadir Munshi, known as Abdullah Munshi in his Hikayat Abdullah (1984), and Kisah Pelayaran Abdullah ke Kelantan (1838).


Quite apart from the numerous classical texts from across the “Malaysia” of the Malay Archipelago, which need constant reinterpretations of their literary forms as well as sociological, anthropological, historical, and geographical expressions, there are also autobiographies, sociological and journalistic narratives that deserve a revisit. Such initiatives could shed some light on the current complexities of ethnic relations in Malaysia, and other parts of the Malay Archipelago.


Footnotes

1.Before the appearance of the newspaper Jawi Peranakan in that year, published in Singapura. The lecture deals with the occasional text, mainly Malay manuscripts and some early printed works. It excludes regular periodicals as in newspapers and magazines whereby these would was induced the advent of print technology. The production and reproduction of texts – the writing itself and the narrative it spawned – ushers are different era, albeit a continuation, on Malay engagements with the outside world.


2.Ibn Muhammad Ibrahim, “Persian Views of Siam,” in Michael Smithies (1995), Descriptions of Old Siam (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press), pp. 85-93. According to Smithies, Ibn Muhammad Ibrahim’s account about Siam is the only non-Western source used in his volume. Ibn Muhammad Ibrahim was the secretary of the Ambassador, Haji Salim Mazandarani, sent by Shah Sulaiman the Safavid (1666-94) to the King of Siam, Narai, in return for an embassy to the court of Isfahan. The Persian embassy was also enjoined to make contact with the Persian community in Siam. For an account of his observations and comments on life and practices in Siam, see Ibn Muhammad Ibrahim (1972), The Ship of Sulaiman, trans. John O’Kane (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul), pp. 50-1, 52, 59, 99-100, 120-1, 138-9, 148-9, 131-2.


3.This could also refer to non-temperate regions as in the Malay Archipelago, the Malay Peninsula, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam.


4.Smithies, 1995.


5.See Ahmad Rijaluddin’s Hikayat Perintah Negeri Benggala.




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