CHAPTER 2

JURASSIC PARK

Once you were a child. Once you knew what enquiry was for. There was a time when you asked questions because you wanted answers and you were glad when you had found them. Become that child again: even now. ― C.S. Lewis

My earliest memory of Penang was standing stark naked at our front gate, watching the world go by. The colonising Brits and prosperous Chinese migrants cared for their creature comforts in luxurious homes, while the locals struggled to get by amid austerity.

Thekampong (village) houses were scattered throughout the neighbourhood, simple wooden frames with walls and roofs of woven palm leaves (atap) and little else. The notable difference was that the Chinese built their homes on the ground, while the Malays opted for stilts, which improved airflow and kept them at a safe distance from snakes and other ground-dwelling creatures that could sting or bite.

It seemed that many little boys didn’t wear any clothes around the house, a sensible and convenient arrangement in the tropics. A little white nuddy-butt was no different from the others, so I joined the club.

The story captures my innocence and loneliness as powerfully as any other childhood memory. It presents a poignant, somewhat sad image of a naked child with a large scab covering his forehead, nose, and chin, thrown into an unrecognisable world. His two siblings were his only friends and foes, and nothing else felt familiar.

Fortunately, I had a cheerful, optimistic disposition and learned to roll with the punches from a young age. I had no issues with my body but was just an inquisitive kid who quickly settled into his new home and found that things felt cooler without clothes in the oppressive heat.

A lasting memory was the many visits to the exclusive Penang Swimming Club. It was a welcome retreat from the relentless heat and a favourite spot for British expats, who carefully avoided the Chinese Swimming Club down the road, supposedly because they peed in the pool.

Kids begin life blissfully unaware of racism, but it was alive and well all around me. Subtly and unwittingly, I adopted a superior, entitled attitude, seeing myself as a white Christian who was a cut above the local heathen population.

I have more fond memories of the swimming club than of any other place from my childhood. I taught myself to swim, much to my parents’ shock, when they saw me happily dog-paddling in the deep end.

Their concern was nothing compared to the shock my brother, John, felt when I later taught him to swim by pushing him into the deep end. What followed was a frantic, all-or-nothing struggle for survival that was ultimately successful. I still shudder to think how my life could have been affected if he hadn’t managed to stay afloat. I suspect he has had similar thoughts, but from that moment on, we felt at home in the water and no longer feared drowning.

Early childhood is lived in the moment. Much of my time was spent exploring my fascinating new home. Living in such an exotic place became an endless adventure as I familiarised myself with this new world. Before long, Australia existed only in name. I had no recollection of kookaburras, koalas, or kangaroos, and Malaya became the only world I knew.

Three things mattered—my family, exploring the physical world, and my distinct sectarian religion. Penang is a small island, yet it’s a treasure trove of things that fascinate a child. Having now travelled widely, I would venture to say few places are as captivating and full of interest as this tiny corner of the Orient.

Where else could a child wander into a snake temple and find themselves su