SO you want a holiday, huh? But not just any holiday. No. You don’t want the usual makan-makan, tidur (sleeping at) hotel, selfie depan (in front of) the Petronas towers. You want something edgy, something spooky, something to make your ancestors raise their eyebrows and ask: “Anak ni tak cukup kasih sayang ke (This child does not have enough love?)”.
Well congrats, sayang, you have just booked yourself on a Dark Tourism Malaysia Tour – brought to you by poor life choices and haunted regrets.
First pit stop: Penang War Museum. Yes, war museum. Apparently, walking through underground torture tunnels where people were once interrogated and executed is fun now.
Makcik’s knees are already shaking and I haven’t even reached the first bunker. But you? You’re there with your camera, TikTok filter and one brain cell shouting, “Let’s do the night tour!”
Why not just tattoo “Hantu (ghost), come get me” on your forehead?”
Also, they say there are ghost sightings and screaming sounds. Of course, you think spirits have nowhere to go? That place is their last known address, okay?
Ah, Kellie’s Castle – where colonial dreams came to die and ghosts came to squat. Think of it as Scotland meets pontianak, with less whisky and more weird vibes.
Let me tell you, only in Malaysia can you find a half-built Scottish castle in the middle of a Perak jungle and somehow people say: “Wow! So romantic!” Romantic, my foot! The man who built it died before it was finished, probably because even the hantu told him, “Tuan (Master), this is a bad idea.”
Now you can walk through the empty halls and hear things whisper – could be the wind, regret or William Kellie-Smith still upset no one installed proper plumbing.
Whichever way you spin it, Makcik says – don’t go stripping down like you are in your own living room. The spirits here also got pride, okay? They may be dead but they are not blind!
Batu Gajah Detention Centre? Aiyoh, don’t get me started. Once a colonial detention facility – home to rebels, communists and anyone who looked at the British sideways. If those walls could talk, they would scream. Now? Half-forgotten and eerily quiet – great for Instagram if you like “haunted chic”.
Meanwhile, in the afterlife, one detainee’s on a ghost walkie-talkie: “Hello control, we’ve got teenagers doing TikTok transitions in solitary confinement. I got locked up for subversion, not viral content!”
A lost, time-travelling tourist from the future shows up with GPS yelling: “Siri, where’s the nearest Starbucks?” And a ghost just facepalms and floats into the bushes.
But anak, why you wanna go places like this? Is your life too peaceful? Is the air con in your house not spooky enough? Or is this just your way of saying: “I want attention but make it supernatural”?
Let’s be honest – people love dark tourism not because we are historians but because we are nosy, bored and low-key masochists.
We love being scared and watching horror films alone. We read crime novels at bedtime and some of us – yes, you – actually pay money to walk into abandoned places that smell like regret and mould.
I swear, if Makcik could throw a slipper through Instagram, I would. Also, don’t play-play with Malaysian hantu. Western ghosts? They float around looking sad in a wedding dress. Malaysian ghosts? Got backstory, purpose and attitude. You disturb them, they don’t just whisper, “boo”. They follow you home, finish your Milo, rearrange your furniture and sit on your chest at 3am while saying: “Cakap, tak percaya tadi-kan?”
So, please – if you visit: Don’t mock, don’t act brave, don’t suddenly speak English like the ghost doesn’t understand. Hantu pun bilingual, okay?
Last, but not least, let’s not forget the ethics. Dark tourism is not a playground. These places hold pain, history and suffering. You don’t go to a war camp and say: “OMG, aesthetic!” You go to reflect, to remember and to learn – not to pose like you are in a Zara ad, next to a torture cell.
You don’t get to turn someone else’s pain into an Instagram reel with ghost-filter and hashtags like #hauntmewithyou. Takde adab langsung (No manners at all).
Respect the space. Respect the stories. And no, don’t sell pocong plushies in the gift shop. I don’t care how “cute” the marketing team thinks it is – Makcik bagi flying slipper terus.
So... Should you go? Honestly? Yes. If you are ready – ready to learn, feel uncomfortable and ready to face history, colonialism and your own overconfidence – all while sweating in a haunted tunnel.
But bring torchlight, proper shoes, some humility and minyak cap kapak – for reasons both spiritual and physical.
And most importantly, anak: Don’t simply say “Takde apa pun...(There is nothing here....)”
You say that and suddenly your phone battery drops from 90% to 2%. And you’ll hear a voice say, “Cakap lagi? (You want to repeat that?)”
Next time you plan a trip, skip the beach, skip the malls and go where the air is still – where the walls remember, where your holiday photos don’t smile but stare back.
Now go. Explore. Learn. Suffer slightly. And when you come back, don’t forget to mandi bunga (ritual flower bath) – standard operating procedure. Makcik out.
Azura Abas is the associate editor of theSun.
Comments: letters@thesundaily.com
