Already, KL has all the trimmings of any other World City: notorious traffic jams; the highest amount of rubbish generated in the country; deteriorated quality of drinking water; rising crime rate and during the dry periods, haze, for which the Twin Towers effectively act as haze-metre.

Home to the world’s tallest buildings, global fast food chains and the ambitious Multimedia Supercorridor, Kuala Lumpur is well on its way to attaining its vision of cloning London, New York or Tokyo. And that would be devastating, writes Siew Lyn Wong.

Once upon a time in the 1850s, 87 Chinamen rowed up a muddy estuary and stopped when they ran out of river. They were in search of tin and when they found it, they set up camp. Being men who called a spade a spade, they named the muddy estuary Muddy Estuary, or in local parlance, Kuala Lumpur. That it was not a particularly apt name for a capital city that would one day have regional and global aspirations, did not occur to them. Nor did it to me, over a century later, growing up in a northern small town as I did.

To me, KL was the capital in every sense of the word: it epitomised the Big City where rich people lived and were members of clubs. KL was also associated with trendy abbreviations like its moniker — nobody who really knew the city called it by its full name, in the same way that no one who drank Coke regularly (I wasn’t allowed to) called it by its full name.

Nonetheless, the confluence where the rivers Klang and Gombak still meet, continues to be a magnet for wealth-seekers. Of course, modern-day prospectors mine and trade commercial and financial nuggets and travel on a complex network of highways and flyovers, as well as hundreds of kilometres of Information Age, here-we-come, fibre-optic cables. Around and way beyond the riverbanks, over 244 sq km in fact, architectural feats of cloudpiercing-gravitydefying-smartbuilding ilk, symbolise the economic heights reached by this Tiger Economy after three decades of fast-track growth (albeit abruptly ended by the Asian Crisis).

In fact, the heartbeat of the nation now emanates from north-west of the river confluence, at the commercial hub of the Kuala Lumpur City Centre. KLCC is home to the world’s tallest buildings, the Petronas Twin Towers, which don’t actually look that tall in real life, not even when you’re risking dislocating your neck trying to squeeze the whole thing in your camera viewfinder. KLCC also anchors Malaysia’s ambitious Multimedia Supercorridor, a Bangalore-type project to churn out Knowledge Economy applications for the public, whether or not they are ready for them.

And lest anyone forget, the muddy estuary still reigns. In one single afternoon in 2003, the rivers broke both their banks and flood records. New millennium muck-laced waters drowned an underground arts centre and hundreds of cars, caused seven-hour mother-of-traffic jams on superhighways and resulted in cleanup costs amounting to hundreds and thousands of ringgit.

As I helped my musician friends dry their rescued CDs whilst others ironed score-sheets, I pondered on the aspirations of this commercial and financial centre in the face of its nominal and locational legacy. Was the unbridled development dooming KL to a muddy future, both literally and figuratively?

The cause of this latest flood (for it has happened several times since the city’s establishment) was the building of an intra-city train station that somehow displaced a spillway for the river water. Despite this sacrificial offering to allay the city’s nightmarish traffic problems, public transport remains inadequate due to the lack of integration of the three types of rail systems and feeder services. It is true that traffic makes up a large portion of the urban woes of this federal territory. Since KL-ites are allergic to walking, virtually every one of them owns a car, all 1.5 million of them. Every day, another 1.3 million cars enter the city from the surrounds, merrily adding to the smog, heat and sound, not to mention the stress levels of gridlocked commuters.

In 1999, the government eased this pressure somewhat by removing civil servants from KL as part of decentralisation efforts. This year, most of the government offices finally shifted to a new administrative centre 25 km south of KL.

Unlike the higgledy-piggledy development that marked KL’s growth, that new township of monolithic buildings screaming Government Issue shows painstaking planning, complete with high-tech controllable man-made waterways. What’s more, it has the regal label of Putrajaya. Named after the first prime minister, putra means ‘prince’ and jaya, is ‘successful’. Now there’s a name for a city.

They even held National Day celebrations there for the first time this year, instead of the traditional site at that historic KL confluence. Likewise, when Malaysia’s first new prime minister in 22 years, Dato Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi, clocked in on November 1, 2003, it was at Putrajaya.

So where does that leave Capital KL? Fear not, the mayor has come up with a new vision: to turn KL into a ‘world class city’ by 2020. That is also the year Malaysia is targeting to be a fully developed nation, GDP-wise.

But what exactly does ‘world class city’ mean? In the latest Draft Structural Plan, beautiful, broad strokes of rhetoric outline intentions of enhancing its role as an international and financial centre; creating (not improving, mind you) efficiency and equity; enhancing the living environment; devising a distinctive city image and building an efficient and effective method of governance. Of all the goals, the one best left alone is the one to ‘devise a distinctive city image’. For if that statement were to translate to turning KL into a London or New York or Tokyo, it would be devastating. Already, KL has all the trimmings of any other World City: notorious traffic jams; the highest amount of rubbish generated in the country; deteriorated quality of drinking water; rising crime rate and during the dry periods, haze, for which the Twin Towers effectively act as haze-metre.

However, visitors who had not done their obligatory Lonely Planet read-up before coming to KL, are astounded to find that it is already world class in terms of international presence and lifestyle. This ranges from banks, multinationals and hotels to consumer labels and franchises, to chefs from every city and nightspots and coffee houses that buzz till dawn.

At the same time, the Tourism Board’s ‘Malaysia Truly Asia’ slogan has finally struck the right note in capturing the multiculturalism that makes up the rich fabric of KL. The heritage and religion of the Malays, Chinese, Indians and multifarious indigenous ethnic groups as well as its itinerant expatriate workers, colour KL life in indelible and eclectic shades.

Global fast-food chains serve up rice porridge and spicy burgers. Gucci-clad consultants sweat it out at dingy roadside hawker stalls. An elaborate Hindu goparam (gateway) stands proud in the midst of soaring steel and stone. Nooks and crannies reveal surprises like a fast-talking traditional healer or a backlane local opera in full swing.

And while more KL-ites are assuming the city-dweller mantle of imperviousness, smiles and probing curiosity are manifest during encounters, conducted in singing Malaysian English. The hues, nuances and vibrancy of this city, whether river-fed or otherwise, are the result of an organic growth fertilised by time, ideas and mishaps and make for a Big City workplace, playground and national symbol that is unique in the world.

[Verve contributor, Siew Lyn Wong, has called KL home for 13 years and considers it an ideal base for her freelance writing and media consulting business. Her clients include publishers, broadcasters and multinationals in Malaysia, Singapore and Hong Kong. She has also worked on 14 books.]