I went to sleep around midnight. There was still traffic on the roads, and when I looked out of the window towards one of the city’s main roads, I saw motorcycles and cars zooming past with party flags fluttering. I watched for a few minutes and counted dozens flying the red, blue and white Pakatan Harapan flag, one with the dark blue Barisan Nasional, and none with the green PAS flag. Unsurprising, given how KL usually votes.
Over the next few hours, the excitement on the roads grew and by two or three there were even more cars and motorcycles, even more flags, loudspeakers, shouting and singing, and a near-constant chorus of honking. This time I didn’t see any flags other than the Pakatan Harapan’s. The honking and revving of engines sounded ominous, like the end of the world, and appropriately at almost exactly that moment Trump was announcing the US withdrawal from the Iran deal.
I was reminded, a little, of the one time I got caught up in election fever, as a child. It was the election after Zia’s death and Benazir Bhutto had come back to Pakistan. At school we were asked whom we’ve vote for if we could and I leapt up and shouted PPP! Unfortunately, since this was a middleclass private school in Karachi, everyone also leapt up and shouted MQM! though later I talked to one diffident boy who would vote for IJI, the precursor to today’s PML(N) and then beloved of the army. Anyway, my father took us out amidst the PPP voters and there was dancing and laughing and joy, flags everywhere, and such excitement.
Thirty years ago.
Last night I knew I was no longer young when I caught myself thinking, how many of these mat rempits will actually vote tomorrow?
So many young men around the world with no outlet.
Let’s see what happens.