How much is an Orang Asli child worth?

Last week, Malaysia buried four of our young way before their time as their anguished Orang Asli community wept at the loss of a son, daughter, nephew, niece, grandchild or friend.

​The funeral – held in a remote village about a three-hour drive from Kelantan’s Gua Musang – should have marked a day of national tragedy, as the senseless deaths of these young children were the symbol of our failure to protect the most vulnerable segments of our society.

But instead of public discourse and a thorough investigation into what went wrong, news about their deaths and funeral has been largely overshadowed by accounts of politicians suing each other and leaders pretending the country is not suffering at the centre of a multi-billion ringgit scandal.

To the Orang Asli community in Kelantan that had lost five of their beloved children, most of Malaysia had forgotten or dismissed what must have been the horrific and extremely traumatic chain of events leading to their deaths.

Seven children, aged between seven and 11, were so afraid of their teachers that they watched their friends die one-by-one, and still hid from their rescuers. The only reason survivors Mirsudiar and Norieen were found alive were because they were too emaciated to run anymore.

It does not take a child psychologist to know that it takes a severe, crippling kind of fear for a child to go against his or her natural instincts to get help, or to seek food when starving.

So the obvious questions that have yet to be answered, are what exactly was going on in Sekolah Kebangsaan Tohoi, where these Orang Asli children were students, and on a larger scale, is it a reflection of what happens in many of the remotely-located schools which are far from government monitoring?

It has been more than two months since the children had gone missing on August 23, and yet nothing has been made public about allegations of abuse at the school.

Where is the royal commission of inquiry? Where is the public outcry for these children? Where is the demand for justice and sense of closure for their parents?

The lack of a swift government response and investigation into the deaths of Sasa Sobrie, Ika Ayel, Haikal Yaacob, Linda Rosli and Juvina David sadly reflects the position of the Orang Asli community in Malaysia.

According to the Centre for Orang Asli Concerns, the Orang Asli made up just slightly more than 140,000 of the population, a mere 0.5%, in the year 2000.

Yet, the poverty rate for this community of Malaysia’s true indigenous people was a shocking 77%. Their average life expectancy was 53, compared to the national average of 72.85 in the same year.

Too small a number to make a difference politically, the welfare and future of the children and the community are doomed to always only be an afterthought of government policy.

But we must not allow this incident to pass without some answers, as if these five children never counted for anything during their short lifespans.

If the school or any of its teachers are responsible for the abuse of these students and others, their wrongdoings and punishment must be made public so as to be an example for others.

It’s the least society can do to honour the lives of the deceased, and protect the rights of those who are still living.

Because the question we must ask ourselves – is the life of an Orang Asli child worth less than the life of your child or mine? – November 1, 2015.

* This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insider.