BATU GAJAH: A visit to Galeri Rumah Lat in Batu Gajah is more than an outing to a museum. It is a journey into Malaysia’s shared memory—into kampung lanes, family homes, school compounds, coffee shops, and neighborhoods where people of different races, languages, and faiths learned to live, laugh, and grow together.

Over the Malaysia Day weekend, I visited this remarkable gallery and came away with a renewed appreciation for Datuk Mohd Nor Khalid, the Perak-born artist known to every Malaysian simply as Lat.

His drawings have been with us for decades. They have made us laugh at ourselves, reminded us of our childhoods, and captured everyday scenes that are too easily forgotten as the country changes. His work is humorous, but never shallow; sharp, but never cruel. More than a cartoonist, Lat is a storyteller of Malaysian life.

Galeri Rumah Lat gives that story a permanent home.

Lat was born Mohd Nor Khalid on March 5, 1951, in Kampung Lalang, Gopeng, Perak. He grew up in the close-knit world of the kampung—a world that would later become the emotional core of much of his work.

It was a world of cousins, neighbours, village characters, schoolmates, family gatherings, and simple pleasures. It was also a world where people knew one another, where humour helped ease hardship, and where daily life offered endless material for a young boy who was always watching.

Lat’s talent emerged early. He began drawing cartoons as a teenager, publishing his first work at just 13 years old. In 1968, Keluarga Si Mamat began appearing in Berita Minggu. The comic strip ran for 26 years, becoming one of the most familiar and affectionate depictions of kampung life in Malaysian popular culture.

Yet Lat’s journey was not simply that of a gifted child becoming a famous artist. His experience as a journalist was equally important in shaping the storyteller Malaysians came to admire.

After completing school, Lat joined Berita Harian in 1970. In 1973, he became a crime reporter with the New Straits Times. It may seem an unlikely route for a cartoonist, but the beat gave him something no art class could teach: a close and often poignant view of real lives.

As a crime reporter, Lat covered accidents, fires, and human tragedies. He met people in distress and saw how quickly ordinary lives could be overturned. He later described journalism as a profession that taught him courage and responsibility—teaching him to listen, seek different perspectives, and understand the human story behind every incident.

Those lessons gave profound depth to his cartoons. Lat’s characters are not merely funny sketches. They are recognisable, vulnerable, and full of life. They worry about money, argue with family members, tease friends, deal with authority figures, and dream of better days. They are Malaysians in all their warmth, confusion, and resilience.

The greatness of Lat lies in his ability to turn the ordinary into something unforgettable.

He never needed dramatic settings or distant heroes; he found inspiration in the familiar: a schoolboy’s mischief, a mother’s scolding, an elderly uncle’s unsolicited opinion, a kampung gathering, a crowded town street, or a conversation at a mamak stall. With a few expressive lines, he could capture an entire personality. With a single scene, he could evoke an entire era of Malaysian life.

His works—including The Kampung Boy, Town Boy, Mat Som, Lots of Lat, Lat’s Lot, and Dr Who?—have become far more than cartoons. They are a visual chronicle of the nation’s evolving social landscape, told with humor, humanity, and deep affection.

Lat’s cartoons bring Malaysians together because they honour the country’s diversity without reducing people to stereotypes. Malays, Chinese, Indians, and Malaysians of every background appear in his work as neighbors, schoolmates, colleagues, and friends. They share jokes, misunderstandings, frustrations, and moments of quiet kindness.

At a time when public life can sometimes feel divided, Lat’s work offers a gentle, valuable reminder: Malaysians have always had far more in common than they realise.

His humour is especially powerful because it is free of malice. He invites us to laugh at human vanity, bureaucracy, family drama, and everyday foolishness, but he rarely strips his characters of their dignity. There is compassion in his caricature. He observes rather than condemns, encouraging us to see ourselves honestly while treating one another kindly.

That is why Malaysians across generations continue to be moved by his art. Older visitors see their own childhoods and a changing nation. Parents remember the comic strips they read in their youth. Children discover that life before smartphones and social media was no less colorful, chaotic, or funny.

Lat’s contributions have earned widespread national and international acclaim. He received the Fukuoka Asian Culture Prize in 2002, and in 2023, he was awarded the HAWANA Award for his contributions to journalism, public education, and socially conscious caricature. That same year, at the grand opening of Galeri Rumah Lat, Sultan Nazrin Muizzuddin Shah conferred upon him the title of Seniman Diraja (Royal Artist).

Yet perhaps his greatest achievement is not an award, but the deep affection of everyday Malaysians who see their own lives mirrored in his work.

Galeri Rumah Lat, officially opened by Sultan Nazrin on July 8, 2023, stands as a thoughtful tribute to a national cultural icon.

Approved and funded by the Ministry of Tourism, Arts and Culture under the 11th Malaysia Plan with RM3.81 million in development funding, the project was completed in January 2022. It was subsequently handed to the Perak State Museum Board, which now manages the gallery, protects the collection, and ensures Lat’s artistic legacy remains accessible to all.

More importantly, the gallery represents an official recognition that cartoons are not a minor art form. They preserve history, document social life, educate the public, and help a country understand itself.

The gallery traces Lat’s artistic evolution from his earliest drawings onward, while Rumah Lat—a reconstructed traditional Perak Rumah Limas-style home—houses personal and family artifacts. Beyond exhibiting history, the space serves as an active hub for temporary exhibitions, research, and cartooning workshops.

In that sense, Galeri Rumah Lat is not solely about preserving the past; it is about inspiring the next generation.

Young artists who visit can see that great art does not require privilege, expensive tools, or international training. It can begin with a pencil, a notebook, and a willingness to observe everyday life closely. Lat’s career proves that a boy from a Perak kampung—and later a crime reporter who learned to listen—could become Malaysia’s foremost cartoonist.

Every Malaysian should visit Galeri Rumah Lat. Bring your children, parents, and grandparents. Go with friends from different communities. Let the gallery spark conversations about family, memory, art, and the Malaysia we have inherited.

By visiting and supporting institutions like this, we also champion the country’s future creators. We remind young illustrators, writers, cartoonists, and storytellers that their stories matter, that their communities are worth documenting, and that Malaysian art deserves to be preserved, valued, and celebrated.

Congratulations, dear Datuk Lat. Your pen has drawn Malaysians closer together. In every familiar face, crowded classroom, and kampung scene, you have given the country a precious mirror—and shown us a Malaysia worth remembering, protecting, and sharing.

(Ravindran Raman Kutty is a senior communications and public relations professional with extensive experience across Malaysia, Fiji, the UK and Australia. Passionate about strategic communications, sustainability, and community engagement, he writes regularly to share insights and foster informed dialogue on important social and environmental issues. Through thoughtful analysis and storytelling, he aims to contribute meaningfully to public discourse and inspire positive change.)