The Weight of Our Sky

“Most people grow out of it, this belief in magic, this reliance on little wonders, and I did too. But then Abah died, and in the echoing space he left behind inside me, the Djinn rushed in, making himself comfortable, latching onto those old familiar cues. He started off slowly: If you tap your toothbrush against the sink three times before you brush, if you take exactly twelve steps to get from your bed to the kitchen, if you flick the light switch on and off six times before bed, then Mama stays well and happy and healthy.”

Two crucial pieces of information are revealed in this passage, as Mel notes that the Djinn appeared after her father’s death, marking that event as the trigger for her broader obsession with her mother’s wellbeing. Second, the instructions the Djinn provides are framed as a transaction in which Mel performs the counting, tapping, or stepping in exchange for her mother’s safety, appeasing the Djinn, who, seemingly, can hurt her mother. This transactional nature sets up Mel’s mental health struggle as a form of extortion, explaining her intense panic and anxiety when she is unable to complete the needed tasks.

“‘I mean…I didn’t understand all of it. There was a lot of singing, a lot of chanting. They were yelling things in Chinese, saying we should go back to the jungle, that we should leave now that the country is theirs. I know someone was shouting that Malays should…should go and die.’ I close my eyes briefly, remembering the roar of the lorry engines, the banging of the drums, the shouting, the accompanying wave of nausea and fear. We’re no strangers to violence in Kampung Baru; once every few weeks, Mama locks the doors and windows as the sounds of neighborhood gangs battling full tilt filter through our home’s wooden slats. But those are run-of-the-mill turf wars, arrogant Malay boys duking it out for control of the neighborhood. This felt bigger, somehow, and dangerous.”

While Saf and Mel’s discussion opens the issue of race and ethnicity in Malaysia, it also frames that discussion from the perspective of young women living in this time. The racism of “go back to the jungle” and “should go and die” is obvious to them, and it differentiates this new violence from the gang conflicts they have seen before. However, they lack a frame of reference for this new situation, recalling images of staying at home and avoiding boys rather than the full-scale rioting that is about to occur.

“‘What about the specialist?’ she asked. ‘You know, the one at the hospital. The mental doctor.’ She lingered over the last three words, and fresh panic bloomed in my chest. ‘Absolutely not.’ Mama was firm. ‘Those quacks will just send her to the asylum, or worse. I hear they cut up people’s brains, trying to fix them. Nobody’s doing that to Melati.’”

Though social stigma against mental health plays a significant role in feelings of isolation or hopelessness, this passage shows an additional layer to the fight for mental health awareness. Though Mak Su suggests a psychologist, Mel’s mother immediately rejects the idea out of fear that psychology involves either hospitalization or brain surgery, specifically lobotomy, regardless of context. To some extent, this fear is justified by reports of experiments and poor conditions in mental health facilities, but the sweeping generalization that psychologists are “quacks” who simply cut into brains or permanently hospitalize patients is damaging, leading to many people’s, like Mel, forgoing important care.

“‘No!’ I squirm at her touch, looking desperately back at Saf. ‘I can’t leave my friend!’ A hand lands gently on my shoulder as the auntie leans forward to whisper in my ear. ‘Girl,’ she says, ‘it’s no good staying, it will mean you both die instead of just one. Listen, please, come with me.’ The hand drags me away, steering my reluctant feet to the door. The men begin to move toward the little group then, with all the menacing grace of hunters stalking their prey. I can taste the salt of my own tears on my lips. I’m sorry, I mouth over and over again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

The auntie who helps Mel is correct, since the men are armed and dangerous, but Mel’s insistence on helping her friend highlights how young people are often caught in the middle of conflicts beyond their control and understanding. The armed men are taking advantage of a chaotic situation, motivated by racial prejudice, which disrupts the fabric of order and safety in society. Though Mel is apologizing for leaving her friend, her apology is targeted at her own inability to reset that sense of order and safety. This event is a major contributor to Mel’s feelings of personal failure throughout the book, which are compounded when Saf’s father blames Mel for her death.

“I couldn’t stop counting that night. Couldn’t stop tapping every third item in our house three times, and then again, and then again, caught in an exhausting loop I just couldn’t break, my head filled with visions of Mama dying over and over and over again. I wailed and I raged and I sobbed, but I could not stop. And all she could do was stand there and watch, weeping quietly with me. ‘Take me to the madhouse, please,’ I told her at one point, weak and weary. ‘I can’t live like this anymore.’”

This passage provides insight into the severity of Mel’s mental health concerns, as she “wailed,” “raged,” and “sobbed,” indicating a sincere effort to overcome her struggle. Her eventual hopelessness, shown in her desire to be hospitalized, highlights how challenging mental health issues can be for both individuals and their families. When Mel notes that “all she could do was stand there and watch, weeping quietly with me,” she is not disparaging her mother, but acknowledging the limits of the support her mother can provide without external assistance.

“Uncle Chong sighs. ‘Hard to say, ah Bee,’ he replies. ‘You know lah, the government will say it’s the Communists at work. Who knows? They could be right. But I think the truth is that this has been brewing for a long time, ever since we were working to gain our independence in fifty-seven. The Malays resent the Chinese for taking over the urban areas, getting rich while so many of them remain poor in the kampongs…’ ‘As if that is our fault.’ Frankie sniffs. ‘Who asked them to be so lazy?’”

Uncle Chong reframes the events of 1969 in this passage, highlighting how explosive conflicts like the race riots do not happen over insignificant events, but rather by building over years of such events and culminating in outright violence. The importance of empathy is the key point in this discussion, as Uncle Chong seeks to empathize with the experiences of Malay people, while Frankie pushes forward with a derogatory remark about laziness. This shows how people like Frankie have a hard time seeing past their own experiences, placing blame on those around them without understanding the experiences of others.

“That’s what you and Saf used to be, he taunts me. Always together, except when it mattered most. And now Mama is next. Every hour brings a fresh glimpse of death: Saf’s, my mother’s, both, together, individually, my fault every time. You failed them. You failed them. You failed them. I sacrifice every minute to the altar of the Djinn, tapping on this, counting that, over and over and over again, yet never getting to that moment when things felt ‘just right,’ when my brain might stay quiet, when I can take in air and fell like I am actually breathing.”

This passage illustrates how new people can be absorbed into the obsessive thoughts Mel experiences through the Djinn metaphor of her mental health struggles. Following her father’s death, only her mother’s images would intrude on her thoughts, but now that she has lost Saf, Saf is added into those compulsions, and Mel’s tapping serves as a ward for both Saf and her mother. Later, more characters are added to this pattern, and it is compared to a religious sacrifice in which Mel sees herself as almost a martyr for her loved ones.

“Only he messes up and ends up scattering the stones every which way, sending them catering loudly against the wooden floorboards. He clicks his tongue in frustration. ‘You see? I have no incentive to get it right.’ ‘Why must you Chinamen gamble on everything?’ I tease him. ‘Why are you Malays so backward that you have to play with rocks?’ he retorts back.”

Critically, these kinds of jokes are the same ones that Auntie Bee highlights as microaggressions and outright racism in her past, but in the context of Vincent and Mel’s flirtations, it takes on a gentler tone. Though they are still making jokes at each other’s expense, they are both laughing, meaning they both understand that neither of them harbors these thoughts legitimately. By contrast, when Mel sees Frankie, the Djinn conjures legitimately racist thoughts that are meant to provoke Mel’s dislike of Frankie. With Vincent, Mel feels comfortable introducing humor into the delicate racial situation in which they find themselves.

“‘Jasmine,’ he repeats, looking at me. ‘That’s what your name means, right? Melati? Mama grows it, out in the garden. They’re the bushes right in front of our escape tunnel.’ I nod, but I’m still confused, and it’s written all over my face. ‘Jasmine flowers are so pale, so delicate,’ he says, ‘you’d think they couldn’t survive in this relentless tropical heat. But they thrive on it. They grow strong and gorgeous, and they bloom. Their perfume is…intoxicating, so strong that it leaves its mark on you long after you’ve left it begin.’ He smile. ‘I think that’s pretty special, don’t you?’ I smile back, and I don’t feel a single urge to count anything at all.”

Vincent uses jasmine as a metaphor in this passage to communicate his support and admiration for Mel. Like jasmine, Mel is strong and delicate at the same time. Though she is struggling with her mental health, she is persevering, and this passage foreshadows Vincent’s role in her mental health journey. In addition, the pause before “intoxicating” likely indicates Vincent’s attraction to Mel, while her note that she does not feel the need to count likely indicates both that friendly support is helpful for her struggle and that she returns his affection.

“As I count and tap and tap and count, my fingers shaking, the Djinn’s soft rasp ever-present in my ear, I hear Jay let out a long sigh. ‘Bloody politicians,’ he says softly, shaking his head. ‘Bloody politicians and their bloody stupid rhetoric, speeches, ideologies. You ever hear anyone say words don’t matter after this, you tell them about this day, when Malay idiots and Chinese idiots decided to kill one another because they believed what the bloody politicians told them.”

The link Jay makes between politics and the individual experiences of people in the riots resonates with both Mel’s anxiety in this moment and Frankie and Auntie Bee’s experiences earlier in their lives. On one hand, Mel is disturbed by the violence she sees around her, and Jay is correct in noting the political origins of the specific 1969 riots. However, these views fail to account for the perceived justice someone like Frankie sees in the violence, in which he sees himself and his people rising against oppression. The challenge in navigating a scenario like this one is how to reconcile the experiences of someone like Mel with those of someone like Frankie, when both parties appear to have some reasonable justification for their position.

“My breath is coming hard and fast now, and I can hear my voice rising, tinged with hysteria. ‘We were only there to help!’ ‘I don’t think they cared, Melati,’ says Vince, his voice gentle. ‘I think that people are angry and frustrated, and they just want to lash out and hurt someone. It doesn’t really matter who.’ ‘That’s crazy!’ ‘It’s just the truth. They don’t see us as people, and they don’t want to. They just know that we’re not them. That’s enough.’”

Vincent’s insight in this passage is that the people committing acts of violence do not see their victims as human beings, but simply as Others, which is a valuable lens through which to view the perspectives of many characters in the text who advocate for racial violence. Frankie, for example, would likely avoid harming Mel specifically, but he advocates for essentially any and all violence against non-Chinese people, who within the context of his argument are no longer people. Mel’s conflict in this situation is with her current role alongside Vincent, as they are working through the Red Cross to help people regardless of group. This status should exclude them from the violence, but Vincent notes that those already wrapped up in the riots do not see anyone as an ally.

“‘They say this place was hit the hardest,’ Jay says, finally breaking the silence. Vince shrugs. ‘It makes sense,’ he says. ‘On one side of Batu Road, Chow Kit, full of Chinese people and the triad members that protect them. One the other side, Kampung Baru, the biggest Malay village in town, protected by Alang and his goons. If you want to start an explosion, you light a match in the dynamite factory.’”

Jay’s noting that Kampung Baru was “hit the hardest” is countered, in a way, by Vincent’s acknowledgement that Batu Road was already segregated in such a way that made it an unstable environment for both Malay and Chinese people living there. In situations like the 1969 riot, people tend to perceive the event as a spark of its own, but Vincent is highlighting how the explosive nature of the riot is founded in the tenuous situation that preceded it—namely, unofficial segregation.

“Something changes then—something shifts inside him; I see it in his eyes, like a shutter has just been pulled down. He stares at me. ‘How did you make it out?’ His voice is a little ragged with grief, but he stands as tall and dignified as ever. I feel it again, then, that small shift rifling through the crowd surrounding us, lie leaves on a breeze. ‘Someone saved me,’ I say. ‘And that someone couldn’t save Safiyah, too?’ I think back to Auntie Bee and what she did for me. ‘No,’ I say simply. ‘Not that way.’ ‘So you left her to die.’ The words hit me like bullets, tearing through my conscience. The Djinn throws back his head and cackles.”

The shift that Mel perceives in Pakcik Adnan’s demeanor is likely a switch from relating to Mel to blaming Mel for surviving when his daughter may not have survived, and it is the result of the realization that Mel is not necessarily part of the group to which Adnan belongs. Adnan and Saf are both Malay people, while Mel, though often grouped with the Malay people, is not, contrasting the way in which Mel is excluded from Frankie’s perception of Chinese people. The repercussions of this conversation vindicate the Djinn in having told Mel that she is at fault, since a real person is now echoing those same thoughts.

“‘Bloody hell, Vincent, she needs to get to the hospital, and we can’t take her there on a motorcycle! Why didn’t you—’ ‘Mel,’ Vince interrupts, rubbing his forehead with one hand. ‘They wouldn’t come no matter what I told them. Because…well. Because I am who I am.’ It’s only then that it dawns on me. ‘Because you’re Chinese.’ I say it flatly, without emotion. Because of course that’s why they won’t come.”

The critical portion of this passage is that Vincent identifies so strongly with his racial identity that his reasoning is “Because I am who I am,” rather than saying “because of my race” or “because I am not Malay.” The significance of this element is that it shows how closely racial and individual identity play into discussions of racial tension and conflict, in which people cease to simply identify as a part of a group, identifying instead directly as the group. In this case, Mel realizes the severity both of such an identification and the result of that close identity.

“‘I’m sorry about your parents, Frankie,’ I tell him. It’s my third apology in thirty minutes, but I don’t know what else I can say. ‘I’m glad they weren’t badly hurt.’ He regards me, his head tilted to one side. I search his expression, but can’t tell what he’s thinking. When he speaks, he speaks slowly, thoughtfully. ‘Even after my father was hit, even when we were trying to get him to a doctor, you know what he was saying? “Aiya, don’t blame them lah, they don’t know any better, poor things.” He was still trying to justify their actions, still trying to be understanding and forgiving.’”

As Mel asks for forgiveness by apologizing, she is not necessarily accepting blame for Auntie Bee and Uncle Chong being injured, but, as a Malay Muslim, she feels a sense of responsibility. However, Frankie exposes the difference between himself, as an angry and hurt young man, and his father, an older and calmer man, in which Frankie is almost disappointed in his father’s urge to forgive. Uncle Chong’s perspective that the Malay group that attacked him were confused applies to Frankie as well, who is confused about himself and the role he should play in the ongoing violence.

“‘I…just wait a second,’ I choke out. I’m flushed and my face is streaked with tears, but I can’t answer, I can’t, I can’t lose my place again. I can’t let them all die. ‘I have to keep counting. I have to finish.’ Vince clicks his tongue in frustration. When he speaks again, his tone is as cold and sharp as a diamond’s edge. ‘You and your numbers,’ he says bitterly. ‘I wish I’d never met you and never heard about your stupid numbers. I could have been home. I could have been here to help Frankie; I could have kept my parents safe. And now, when I could be there with them, we’re stuck in here because you’re too busy counting to get your but moving. God, you’re a piece of work, Melati. You’re so bloody selfish, you know that?’”

The contrast between Mel’s obsessive and compulsive thoughts and actions and the reality around her comes to light in this passage, as Vincent confronts her for endangering his family. Though Vincent is irrational in his accusation, since, for example, he would likely still have joined the Red Cross without Mel’s presence, he is highlighting an important element of Mel’s mental health struggles, as she perceives her compulsions as a ward of protection. In reality, her tapping is not protecting anyone but herself, but Vincent’s withdrawal of his prior support is more harmful than helpful regarding Mel’s internal conflict.

“I read a book once about how our bodies are primed to protect us; faced with times of extreme danger or stress, we either choose to go into battle or run for safety. Fight or flight, they call it. And right now every nerve ending in my body is screaming at me to run, run as fast and as far away as I can—well, almost. There is one corner of my mind where a light seems to pulse, away from the Djinn’s endless taunts, one corner where a voice that sounds a lot like mine whispers: You could fight. You could fight him, Melati, you could fight your Djinn. And you could win.”

There is an implication in this passage that asserts that Mel could overcome her mental health struggles through internal reflection alone, choosing to fight her Djinn rather than give in to his demands. This is a difficult assertion to navigate, as many people who struggle with similar mental health concerns would disagree, but the inspirational value in this passage is that Mel is in a position where she is discovering that strength within herself. Comparing anxiety to a fight or flight response is accurate to the physical expression of these mental trends, and Mel seems to associate herself, as it is her voice in that corner of her mind, with the possibility of active resistance.

“When I finally push open the heavy double doors to the stadium, the first thing that hits me is just how much bigger it seems. Then I realize that it isn’t that the stadium is that much bigger—it’s that there are fewer people here. Unlike the packed walls of the Chin Woo Stadium, where people had to shrink themselves to fit somewhere between one another and their belongings besides, her families can move around more freely, taking up larger spaces to create some semblance of home for themselves. There is less tension in the air. There is room to breathe.”

The implication of this passage is that there is an imbalance between the two racial groups in conflict in the novel. Chin Woo is packed full of people seeking assistance, while Stadium Nagara is emptier or more spacious. In either case, this indicates that the Malay people of Kuala Lumpur are not in as dire of a situation as the Chinese people, since more Chinese people are being forced to gather at Chin Woo than Malay people at Nagara. This display is likely intended to remind the reader that Malay people form the dominant political ethnic group in Malaysia, giving them an advantage in a racial conflict with Chinese groups, who form a large minority.

“Then again, any sane person doesn’t spend sleepless nights counting in groups of three, go into conniptions at being unable to tap things, house djinns in their bodies, or imagine their own mother’s death. The only way I know I’ll feel better is by being with Mama. And if out there is where Mama is, then I guess I’ll just have to head out and find her. B it is. The decision made, I do my best to quash down the wave of panic and endless questions the Djinn starts firing into my head—How? Where? What if you get hurt? Who will help you? Over and over again, like an increasingly screechy tune—and try to concentrate on formulating a plan.”

Mel’s thoughts in this passage intersect with what the reader will recognize as rational thoughts, as opposed to irrational or obsessive thoughts. Mel does not realize that her concerns for her own well-being and the dangers of her plan are not the result, necessarily, of the Djinn or of any mental health struggle. Instead, her fears here are valid, and any person in Mel’s position would be forced to reconcile these thoughts in order to proceed with her plan. Mel questions her sanity based on prior experiences, but her sanity in this moment is stable despite her panic.

“‘I will not calm down! All she was doing was standing in our garden! She didn’t even know there was a curfew on and you bloody fools shot her in cold blood! You and your stupid shoot-to-kill order.’ His knees buckle and he sinks to the floor, as if bowing to the weight of his own grief. ‘She never even killed spiders or cockroaches,’ he says quietly. ‘She fed every stray cat or dog or human she ever met. How could you do that to her? How could you?’ He throws the knife across the room, where it lands with a clang and skids across the floor, stopping right by my feet.”

The outburst of the Chinese man in the police station shows the cycle of violence, in which the riots led the police to shoot an old Chinese woman, though she was not committing any specific crime, which then spurs her son to attempt violence on the police. Fortunately, no one is hurt in this exchange, but Mel sees how she could step into the role of this young man, noting how angry and hurt she would be if her mother was killed senselessly. In a violent situation, no one truly wins, as there are bound to be losses on both sides.

“‘Where’d your mummy go?’ I ask her gently. Her face falls. ‘There was a lot of loud noises outside, so she went to go see. She said I had to stay quiet and hide in our room and not let anyone inside at all. She said it was like another game. And if she didn’t come back, if I won, then someone would come find me and bring me home.’ She looks down then. ‘I cheated, though. I got hungry, so I had to come out.’ Her lips tremble slightly as she looks up at me. ‘Can I still win? Are you going to take me home?’ she asks. My heart wrenches. I can’t leave her here to fend for herself. Everybody who’s around you gets hurt, the Djinn says warningly. You’re toxic, Melati. You’re capable of protecting nothing and no one.”

As a young adult novel, May’s character serves to emphasize Mel’s ongoing transition into adulthood. May’s experience is somewhat similar to Mel’s, as Mel has relied on the kindness of strangers, specifically adults, to get through much of the novel. However, with May, Mel becomes the adult in the situation, forcing her to consider both her own needs and those of this young girl. The Djinn then becomes an impediment to Mel’s development, as he insists that Mel cannot take on the adult responsibilities of the moment.

“I curl up into myself and squeeze my eyes shut as the relentless waves of anxiety and fear come crashing down on me, pounding me over and over again, dragging me out into a cold and unforgiving sea and leaving me to drown. Except there is a voice calling me, out there at sea, a voice that sometimes sounds like Saf, and sometimes sounds like Vince, and sometimes sounds like Paul McCartney, and sometimes sounds like…God? Remember how far you’ve come, the voice whispers. Remember what you’ve accomplished. Remember who you are.”

Though Mel has heard this voice before, she is uncovering, in this moment, the inner strength she needs to fend off the Djinn and help her family and friends. Despite the upsetting final moments she had with both Saf and Vince, they remind her of her own power, and Paul McCartney, standing in for Mel’s father, draws strength from even earlier portions of Mel’s life. Critically, the last line in this passage urges Mel to “[r]emember who [she is],” reflecting the distinction between mental health and identity. Mel’s mental health does not define who she is; it simply interacts with her identity, sometimes to her detriment.

“According to the government, the official numbers from that intense, chaotic week, when the city cracked wide open and the streets filled with blood and bodies, are 439 people injured, 196 killed. Auntie Bee and Uncle Chong and Vincent had come to visit the day the report was released, for moral support, Auntie Bee said, though she didn’t mention if they were providing the support or needed it themselves. Frankie didn’t come. He never comes with them on these visits, and when we go their house he makes himself scarce. I’m not sure we’ll ever be friends, Frankie and me. But he saved us, and we saved him, and that is a connection that we could never sever, whether we like it or not.”

Outside sources estimate that the number of deaths in the riots is closer to 600, indicating that the government downplayed the riot to “save face,” as Uncle Chong claims. Nonetheless, the importance of the aftermath in the novel is the close development of a relationship between Mel’s and Vincent’s families, bridging the gap between the two racial groups directly. Frankie is not a part of this bridge, but Mel’s perspective is that even if they never become friends, they will always have a bond through their acts of kindness toward one another.