Dear Ezra, It's Just a Kidding. Love, Malaysia

Malaysia ended. In spite of feeling like it would last forever, it did not, since nothing does and nothing can, in fact, last forever. Malaysia was no exception. It ended quietly, all things considered. After the fake wedding everything else seemed comparatively tame. I was present for Sarah’s big blow-out assembly and there was also a goodbye snack in Kuala Terengganu with all of the ETAs and low-level officials. In case you’re ever wondering, low-level officials who are filling in for mid-level officials at events that no officials actually care about really do give the best speeches. The guy didn’t really know any of us very well so some highlights were:

"And there’s Gwynne who can only eat tofu… and Chris who is a lawyer and will bring down the American legal system… and Joe. Joe always reminds me of that black guy. You know, that very funny black guy. That actor-" at this point we were all thinking of Chris Tucker, who Joe is a dead ringer for- "Jack Black." And collectively the room breathed a sigh of relief. Oh good, we all thought. Our low-level government official was just terrible at making speeches and not racially insensitive.

The problem with America is that it just doesn't hand you as many comedic opportunities on a daily basis. The people where I live are too conscientious and have too strong a command of the language to make such brilliant mistakes. And it's more than just the comedy that I'll miss. Nothing's supposed to go wrong in America. If something gets messed up in the states, there’s no real reason for it. The cell phone company tried to screw you. Your meeting got canceled and your time was wasted. You accidentally bleached your jeans and you need to get new ones. Life in the states has a contradiction built into it, because we expect things to be perfect and reality shows that time and time again it's not, and never will be.

But in Malaysia, you expect things to go wrong. You’re surprised if they turn out perfectly (as, with the law of averages, is bound to happen at least sometimes) and you’re prepared for crap to rain down on you from time to time for no good reason. The beauty of this mindset is that it transcends pessimism. You don’t look for crap to rain down on you, you’re just ready with an umbrella when it does. And at your disposal, 24 hours a day, no matter what, is a failsafe explanation for every imaginable screw-up:

"It’s just Malaysia."

It’s random and chaotic, but it’s fair since no one’s exempt, and best of all, it doesn't contradict reality. If you understand to begin with that you’re living in an irrational world, times of irrationality are no longer problematic. "It’s just Malaysia" is a beautiful catch-all. It’s the gestalt of what could be making things happen so bizarrely.

One of my favorite students, Aiman, wrote me a goodbye card where he just made a lot of jokes and ended it with "It’s just a kidding." I think that’s a lot like the goodbye card Malaysia would send to me. All of this, this whole dream-like life, it was all just a kidding.

At the end of The Joke, which I read during my time here, one of the characters suffers a heart attack while playing with his band. The protagonist finishes off the book by saying that the heart attack victim will live, but it will be a quieter life, one without any of its old exuberance or exultation. There will be no ecstatic musical numbers anymore, he will just be alive and nothing more. That is my fear about leaving Asia. Everything that grated on me in my worst times will be what I'll miss the most. What kind of life will I have back in America where there signs are all in perfect English, the meals are all free of bones, and I can have any small comfort at any time? I’m afraid that in my leaving this unabashed insanity, I’m effectively neutering my life.

There are no answers for these fears. Malaysia was my family and, as my family, loved me-- sometimes too hard-- and occasionally drove me crazy. And my world is fuller for having known that love. And my world is emptier for leaving it behind.

As I write this I don’t know what it means to leave, since I still don’t know what it meant to be there, or why it happened. But of course, I already know why, the answer just doesn’t make any sense. It’s just Malaysia. It showed me the joy of a life without sense. It’s up to me to continue that without it.

And, really, that shouldn't be too hard. After all, it's all just a kidding.