(This illustration complements the article)
A lie goes halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on – Winston Churchill
by JayasankaranKK
The laws of sexual discrimination work selectively in certain instances. This is most apparent in Malaysia when it concerns the titled. And there are many such people in Malaysia.
One of them is my wife. Rebecca’s ascension in government meant that she began attracting a string of titles which got capped, in 2015, when Malaysia’s King awarded her a Tan Sri-ship. That’s akin to a knighthood in the United Kingdom.
Don’t get me wrong. I was proud of her and she fully deserved it, but, in cricketing terms, you might say I was on a sticky wicket.
I realised it the day I accompanied her to the Palace when she went to receive the honour. The official bowed and called out her full name with new title while addressing me as Dato’ (Datuk) – he assumed it was the least I could be.
On my part, I assumed a vaguely lofty manner.
At such functions, you cannot just sit anywhere. Instead, I was briskly escorted to the ranks of the spouses where a sea of women looked blankly up at me.
Needs must, as they say. “We Puan Sri’s have to stick together,” I said to them and got a big laugh in return.
That is the rub when it comes to titles in Malaysia. The wife of a Datuk or Dato’ in Malaysia has her own title (Datin) while the wife of a Tan Sri is a Puan Sri. The husband of either is, however, neither and, at best, is a Mr.
Did I mention that Rebecca is a Datuk three times over?
If society would only observe these niceties, it would be fine but sexual prejudices almost always blur them.
Take the condominium we have been living in. It took a long time for the Nepali security guards to finally figure out that the TS wasn’t me. They simply assumed it had to be the guy.
It sort of cut both ways: it got you deferential looks from passers-by and outraged, or scandalised, people who knew my wife.
The worst times were when I had lifts from acquaintances. I’d roll down the window to allow the guard to see me only to hear him reply in a roar that frightened birds a kilometre away: “Of course, Tan Sri.”
That’s when I wonder what the driver is thinking?
It’s no fun.
It was even worse in Singapore where Rebecca was stationed as the head of an international agency for six years.
Had a 01 number affixed to her position. I was to find out that they were the numbers routinely given to Ambassadors.
I found it out by accident. Every time we pulled up at any hotel, someone would always spring to my door and address me as Excellency. All this, despite the fact that my wife was always the one sitting in the power seat (the back left).
It was one such doorman who explained the significance of the 01 on the number plate.
In fairness and in my defence, I almost always left Excellent smiles and a thoughtful nod or two.
WE