Civil Servants, how lowly art thou?

My daddy is a civil servant.

As a primary school kid, that was perplexing and I found it embarrassing to write the word "servant" on rough, yellow forms required by the school for mysterious reasons quite incomprehensible to a seven year old. Would they black-list me because my daddy wasn't a "doktor" or "pengurus" and couldn't afford to donate hundreds of ringgit to fund the new staffroom wing? Other kids would point grubby fingers at the papers on my desk, "Kakitangan kerajaan? Apa tu? Sapu lantai ke?". It was only when I was twelve did my dad spot the mistake, cross it out and write "pegawai kerajaan". My twelve year old self did not think a "pegawai" was any better than a "kerani" and was clearly not impressed.

Not until I was in turqoise coloured pinafores, feeling quite proud of reaching teenhood and a 'big girl' in secondary school did I realise the effect I had on teachers when I mentioned that my dad was a civil servant. Teachers, civil servants in their own right, recognised how rare it was to find a non-Malay in the service. Better yet, one who had decided to send a child through the national school system instead of straight into the strict Chinese education system. Maybe it was faith in the national system. Maybe it was ignorance. Nevertheless I was happy to go on at length telling everyone my daddy worked for the government and was an integral part of the development of our great nation. A day in my daddy's life was akin to moving mountains and parting rivers, and the ministry of trade and industry was the heart of the Malaysian Plan. My daddy was making history.

The fact that by working for the government, my daddy would never be able to afford to send me or my siblings to university, never crossed my mind. The innocence of youth is precious.

It didn't take long to shatter that illusion, of course, when JPA turned away my scholarship application and my parents had to send me to Singapore where I could study for free on other tax payer's money. So what if my daddy had spent all his life growing industries from dust for Malaysia? Let Singapore fund his kid's education.

The glamour of my daddy's heroic job is fading. The respect for civil servants which existed in my grandfather's time has been eroded by corruption and monopolisation by a single race. When once only the brightest minds could seek out a government position, now it is only a dumping ground for unemployable graduates as the Badawi administration pledges to absorb them into the system. And my dad's face grows weary from the disheartening interviews with graduates who cannot speak a word of English. "How to work for MITI? How to bring investors into Malaysia like that?"

Today our Prime Minister has called on civil servants to be more efficient to fulfil the NEP. And this is a cry we all know too well, the semi-annual plea to the government sector to buck up and stop making us look bad. But how do they do that when you've stripped all their dignity away from them. How do you keep the pride in my daddy's eyes when you deny him his promotions and push his juniors forward? I needn't even mention what race they belong to. At the same time how dare you beg my daddy not to retire after all that he's been through because you suddenly realise he's the last of the good men. He's the last one who fought the good fight. And what have you given him in return?

Once, a long time ago, I wanted to be just like my daddy and serve my country. But like unrequited love, it is only a matter of time before you give up on someone who is constantly pushing you away.