If my claim to notoriety during my teenage years involved various sessions of 'unplanned' outings and letters sent home informing my parents of the disciplinary action taken against me, my sister's personal entry for the same category involved a borrowed motorcycle, a car, a dented door and RM2000 from me and my dad. So it wasn't really surprising when she laughed a mirthless laugh after reading the about the JPJ chair throwing incident in Perlis a couple of days ago. When it came to motorcycles and the lack of a license, she could relate.

For some reason this story caught my eye, because it was one of those things where there was no clear distinction between who the victim and the perpetrator was; one of those grey-area puzzles that make one's grey matter spin round and round trying to locate the bigger picture before making a conclusion and obviously, not finding it.

The saga

The case, in brief, thus far: fourth former, riding a motorcycle without a license or a safety helmet, sped past a JPJ traffic barrier. The JPJ officer on duty allegedly flung a metal chair at the speeding motorist, hitting the student who then fell off his motorbike injured. Upon seeing this, locals then attacked the JPJ officer, who was also taken to hospital with injuries.

One could already forsee the fun the media would be having. How does one spin such a story? Was the boy the victim? But he also committed a traffic offence. Was the JPJ officer the victim? But he acted unprofessionally we can't have all our officers attacking members of the public unprovoked or not in self defence, can we? What about the boy's parents? Where did they figure in the bigger picture?

Things got a lot more interesting towards the end of last week when the boy's father revealed his plans to file for compensation to the tune of RM130,000. Ah, tenets from the land of the free have arrived to even the less urban regions of Malaysia. How American. His excuse for demanding such an amount was that his son's injuries could potentially impair him indefinitely and he would therefore be in need of medical care, and at the same time he denied that the money was for him. When pressed about his son's traffic offence, he declared that a man of his status and earnings could not afford the fine, and he was not sure whether he could make the payment.

But that wasn't the whole story. Oh no, there's more. The father argued that he had prohibited his son from using the motorbike because he did not have a license, but because the school was a good 10km away from where they lived, there wasn't much choice. It wasn't the lack of responsibility on the part of the father that caught my attention that phenomenon is a dime a dozen these days ("Makcik dah pesan pada dia.. jangan berkawan dengan orang yang tak elok perangainya.. dia hendak juga..") but the lack of a 'choice' on the boy's part.

The system that isn't

You see, of late, I've been trying out the public transport system in the city center. I've parked my car on the outskirts of the city, and jumped on and off every rapid rail system available. I like what I see. Some of the interchanges are not painless, and an integrated one ticket system would be very much appreciated, but I don't think this is very far away anymore. Other things I would have rather liked to have been available are day-saver tickets and air-conditioned subways to and from interchange stations, but hey.. I'm not complaining.

But me, I live less than an hour from the national capital, and even nearer to the administration capital. I have come to expect such conveniences. I also grew up in a middle-class family. While we did not have a car until I was 12, we never had to leave home at 5am to walk miles and miles to school; we've never been without school books or a fresh school uniform every year; we were even given SPBT textbooks during primary school. Everyone I went to school with was like me, and it was easy to think that 'this' was what it was like for everyone.

My dad and mom, like all parents regardless of culture and creed, loved to tell us stories about how many miles they had to walk in the mud only to arrive at school half an hour late, dirty and soaked with sweat, locked out of the school gates before ceremoniously being paraded at the school assembly for that misdemeanour.

How much I wish those stories were stories from way back when stayed there: in the memories of adults to reminisce with much fondness.

The reality of today is that when you take an LRT ride across the city, from one end of the Klang Valley to the other, you pass chapters of reality you would rather not see. Derelict buildings. Zinc houses. Clogged drains. Rubbish flagged by the ever present pink plastic bag. This, in KL.

What more if you venture further afield into the more rural areas of the country. Public transport and public conveniences do not reach the final mile in this country, that is something we all know and are well aware of. But in some cases, conveniences of this nature do not even reach the beyond the first few miles of townships outside of the hub that surrounds the Klang Valley. Buses are often the only means of public transport and these buses are aging, rickety and uncomfortable. The timetables are unreliable, and often once you miss one, you are looking at a lengthy wait in the hot sun for the next to hurtle along.

So what are the choices they are left with? Taxis at a steeper price or their own transport. Almost always, a motorcycle. Bicycles are an option, but with the amount of books they carry to and from school everyday, it is not quite the preferred student option. Cars are pricey many struggle to maintain the solitary Kancil for their family of six; what more for a second car so that their kids could wiz around the plantation?

Delayed results

Which brings me back to the Taufik predicament. The problem is not skin deep. It is not a clear matter of right vs wrong; of a teenager committing a traffic offence; of a father blinded by greed; of an officer using violence. It is a problem that has manifested over the years. It is a symptom of a bigger ailment; of the imbalance in socio-economic development in this country; of the gap between the rich urbanites and the less well-to-do ruralites. Soal tikus kampung dan tikus bandar.

We are entering the Ninth Malaysian plan soon. That means we have had eight plans meant to develop this country. And yet, why are there still stories of people quitting school at 15 to help the family? Why are there still kids who are denied the right to a decent education? Why are there people still living in slums? What does all the development in KL count for, if anak bangsa Malaysia are still scraping to get by? Why are the heartbreaking stories of the times my parents were kids, still the heartbreaking stories of the people of my generation?
When you step off the Tube on the London Underground, at Bank station, you are reminded, Mind the Gap. I say this to you, and as a reminder to me, too. There is a gap. We need to mind it, before it gets too wide. I don't want to be writing with the same sense of middle class guilt when we hit Rancangan Malaysia ke 18.

Glossary:

"Makcik dah pesan pada dia.. jangan berkawan dengan orang yang tak elok perangainya.. dia hendak juga.." - I've told him... not to befriend bad people... but he wouldn't listen

IDLAN ZAKARIA can be contacted at idlan@idlanzakaria.com. She's a rock star postman in the guise of an academic.