The Sounds of Malaysia

Close your eyes and listen.

Hear

The constant whirring of the fan

The bright chirp of the birds outside

The rumble of a truck pulling into the driveway

The stale breeze rustling through the palms

The drone of the planes consistently taking off for foreign countries

Hear the clinking of chopsticks in a bowl, the mixture of languages.

The wind is blowing your way, the faint call to prayer echos from the city below.

In the morning, you wake to roosters, construction, car alarms, and shouts in Malay.

The rain blares, the water rushes through the make-shift gutters, the frogs form their chorus.

The incessant honking cues you—it’s time to do your shopping, before the truck pulls away and you have to walk into town.

Singing fills the hallways of the seminary. Top hits? You raise me up, The Prayer, Amazing Grace, and the Hallelujah Chorus.

The market sellers sing their products. Eventually, you buy the best products with your ears, not your eyes.

Walking through the mall and the stalls, the shopkeepers sing to themselves, keeping company. You catch their eyes, but they smile, unembarrassed, and continue their song.

On the street, you hear motorbikes, buses, phone conversations, and kids on the street, strategically avoiding the questions of “taxi?” and “hello, ma!”

In the evenings, when the construction has died down, you sit back and listen to the families below. Hidden from sight in a tangle of jungle vegetation, the sounds of clanging pots cooking dinner over a fire, children crying and playing, and beats of loud music from their shanty homes rise through the window.

As you lay down to sleep, the eerie calm is broken by cat fights and dogs howling. Every so often the morning call to prayer pierces through the night stillness, alerting you in the darkness. The roosters start early, cuing your internal clock-- it beats your alarm every time.