Salleh Ben Joned - Jebat Man Of Letters

 Salleh Ben Joned – Jebat Man Of Letters

M. Bakri Musa

 

Book Review:  Anna Salleh’s Salleh Ben Joned:  Truth, Beauty, Amok and Belonging. Maya Press, Petaling Jaya, pp 254, 2023  RM80.00.

 

 

My future mother-in-law once startled me with a curious query, “Bakri, who are the heroes in your culture?”

 

            Stumped by her unexpected inquiry, I replied almost as a reflex and without much enthusiasm, “Hang Tuah!” Minimal enthusiasm because a few years earlier I had read Kassim Ahmad’s revisionist treatment of the eponymous character in his “Characterization in Hang Tuah,” written for his baccalaureate thesis.

 

            Today I could rattle off more than a few worthy names. One, and with ease together with great enthusiasm, is Salleh Ben Joned, the enfant terrible of contemporary Malay and Malaysian literature. He was of both because of his erudition in Malay as well as English. 

 

            Cartoonist Lat has a more profound take. Lat’s one-line review of Salleh’s Sajak Sajak Salleh–Poems Sacred And Profane, was simply, “It’s like meeting Hang Jebat on his day off!” Jebat is the (now) much celebrated “anti-hero” of Hikayat Hang Tuah.

 

            I learned this gem (and a whole lot more) on Salleh from the touchingly endearing book by his daughter, Australian biologist-turned-broadcaster Anna Salleh. As for Lat’s insightful observation, imagine if Salleh were to be on full throttle! 

 

            Alas, Salleh was not, at least not after 2000. That was when he underwent electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) for mood swings. This too l learned from Anna’s book. Bless her for dealing with such a sensitive topic with love, finesse and empathy. ECT plays havoc on one’s memory, cognition, and creativity.

 

            Salleh wrote many letters to Anna during periods when he was overwhelmed. She has kindly reproduced snippets of those very personal anguishing notes. Those must have been hellish to read. Having worked in a psychiatric hospital early in my career however, those were but plaintive cries for supportive psychotherapy and better management of neurotransmitters.

 

            Salleh left for Australia in 1961 to return a decade later with a degree in English Literature, an achievement sufficiently rare then or even now, together with an Australian wife and daughter (Anna). He was briefly on the faculty at the University of Malaya. The operative word there is “briefly,” for soon he was out free-lancing as a poet and writer. That took supreme self-confidence. An artist at his core, academic tenure and other artificial societal accolades did not interest him.

 

            Salleh Ben Joned died in 2021 at age 81, after a long battle with bipolar disorder. 

 

            Like Salleh I too left Malaysia, for Canada in 1963. Thus my “Malayness” as well as “Malaysianness” were of the 1950s when P. Ramlee commanded the airwaves and Bahasa was devoid of pidginized English words like inspirasi and korupsi. Ilham and rasuah are much more expressive and also definitely more Malay sounding. We also had little need to show off that we knew a few fancy English words.

 

            Salleh’s writings and poetry in Malay are thankfully spared such spurious bastardized vocabulary. Hence his lament on contemporary Malaysiana, specifically Malay writers even or especially celebrated ones, the late poet Usman Awang being a notable exception.

 

            When Salleh’s first book of poems was published in 1987, “there was no response from the Malay literary world, despite the book being two thirds in Malay. For two years there was deafening silence,” as Anna Salleh put it.

 

            That reveals something else, obvious to me who has long been away from my culture, less so to others. That is, to praise a Malay who is well versed in English means that you are also ipso facto denigrating our national language. Another equally destructive strain, to adequately praise someone, it is not sufficient to be super effusive, you must also degrade yourself to the point of humiliation. It is this separation or gulf that counts, Hofstede’s power distance to matters cultural. Thus you praise your sultan to high heavens while at the same time debase yourself as his beta (slave).

 

            Salleh’s disdain for if not outright disgust with this particular regressive aspect of Malay feudalism was palpable. No surprise there as he was born and raised in Melaka, a sultan-less state. On the other hand, many have overcompensated for that. Witness the over-groveling scenes at state functions.

 

            This book is more than an endearing tribute of a loving daughter to her late father. Anna Salleh has brought forth many hitherto hidden gems to his unique personae both as a writer and Malaysian.

 

            She had in 2020 produced a podcast series, “Salleh Ben Joned:  A Most Unlikely Malay.” To me, Salleh is very much my Malay! In a touching poem to his third and last wife Halimatun, “Birthday Pantun For My Love, Atun,” Salleh wrote, “A mind that’s open to life’s sheer variety/And a spirit that knows what not to miss.”

 

            That also describes Salleh. The Qur’anic “soleh” means the righteous son. As stated in his forward to Sajak Sajak, it also means “odd.” Thus Mat Salleh. To me, you are soleh when you open your God-given mind to all His wondrous creations.

 

            Anna Salleh has whetted our appetite for this literary Jebat and great Malaysian Man of Letters. This is part of her “ongoing efforts to curate her father’s literary legacy,” an endeavor worthy of a true anak solehan(fem. salleh).

 

            As intimated by the many photo snippets in this book, Salleh’s scribblings are found on scraps of paper and tattered 555 notebooks. Those offer invaluable glimpses with the same sagacity and spiciness as his formal writings.

 

            I would dispense with what others think of or write about Salleh. I am more into his “Open Letter to Redza Piyadasa on the Art of Pissing,” “The Malay (and Malaysian) Writer’s Dilemma,” and similar commentaries. Those would also fulfill her father’s wish of “Keep me burning, dear God, with the stubbornness of being.” (Songs and Monologues 7.)

 

            Salleh was a Muslim and thus did not believe in reincarnation. However, as a thought experiment, ponder his response if he were to be, to the current increasingly favorable views of his legacy as well as the rave reviews of Anna’s book.

 

            I venture that his response would be an earthy “Poodah.” (Get out of here!)