When I was in Standard One, my two best friends were a Malay girl and a Punjabi girl. I can still recall the long phone conversations I had with them after school. What would 7-year-old girls talk about for hours is one of life's mysteries.
Not only that, we hung out at each other's houses and talked some more and did what children did best - play. Not one moment did it occur to me that I was in a non-Chinese home or that I had chapatis for tea and drank "air sirap".
Fast forward to 2008, I am (ahem) in my 30s and my best friends remain - no, I stand corrected, the circle grew a little more - and now I have close buddies who are Malay, Indian and from mixed ethnicities or are confused. That is not the point. I still did not think twice about having Murtabak Singapura or banana leaf rice - so long the company is good. And the experience enriching.
These thoughts came to me when I read an article on an ex-Minister being quoted on creating Bangsa Malaysia. Whether it may be a popularity stunt or rhetoric, I felt that yes, rightfully said, race really does not matter. As idealistic as it sounds - surely we want the best for Malaysia and Malaysians. No denying that we are all selfish - we want to stand first in line when we collect our road tax rebates, we want the best restaurant service and we want to win the best awards. And when we do not get our way, we use the racial arguments to hide our sour grape attitudes.
The racial tone then, is stemmed from being selfish - not really racial at all. I'm no stranger to that trait - I am guilty of prejudices and ignorance too. While I can strive to change that streak in me (like in the article), can the rest of us too try? We always say we want to be different, but more often than not, we conform saying society made us behave this way and change is difficult.
Is really that difficult? I doubt it. I leafed through a magazine the other day, found a gorgeous Malay style house that I'd love to own. And as often as I can, I help a friend's sister decorate her family's Christmas tree during the December.
I want (and I believe many share my sentiment) to be different - and I want to be part of this change.
And....who cares if I speak English with a Kelantanese accent..:)
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I remember my primary school days. Two of my brothers and I went to the Anglo-Chinese School in Seremban. Mrs Arulrajah was headmistress, a maternal figure yet a strict disciplinarian. I can't clearly recall but I was one of a handful of malays in my class of 45. Because of that, I was blessed with best friends that were not malays. Khoo Hock Hin was a hokkien who lived by the railroad in Rahang. I used to hang around his house after school. He had a dog. Through my limited knowledge on Islam, at that time, he understood why it was haram for muslims to touch dogs. Chan Wai Mun, Ng Wai King and I traded the top three places in class come exam time. Ganesh was a feisty Indian boy who sprinted with me barefooted during the MSSNS Olahraga meets. We played gasing together during recess. Lalita was my first crush. I thought she was malay with a strange sounding name. One day I saw her mum and dad picking her up from school. I was bemused to see that her mum was Chinese and her dad was Indian. Then there was Faridal, the school gangster. His dad was some big shot businessman. He used to bully us around but being the natural 'salesman' that I am, he eventually became my buddy and a good one to have too. There was one time, very early in my standard one days that the teachers mistook me for a Chinese and I was bundled in the school Chapel one Friday afternoon. It was a strange experience for me but very much eye-opening.
We spoke a rojak of language then. Malay, a bit of Hokkien and Cantonese. Of course later on, we converse very much in English.
Fast forward, Wai King is now a succesful lawyer. I chanced upon him in a business deal I was working on. I heard from someone, Wai Mun is a doctor in Australia. A couple of years ago, I bumped into Lalita at the Seremban A&W. She had 3 sweet little daughters in-toe queuing for root beer floats and coney dogs. Her name is Anita now. She married a malay guy.
These are the founding years that bent me. These are the people that shaped me. I am thankful to all of them regardless of their race, their creed, their ideologies and their religion. This is the Malaysia I grew up in, these are the Malaysians I know.
I remember my primary school days. Two of my brothers and I went to the Anglo-Chinese School in Seremban. Mrs Arulrajah was headmistress, a maternal figure yet a strict disciplinarian. I can't clearly recall but I was one of a handful of malays in my class of 45. Because of that, I was blessed with best friends that were not malays. Khoo Hock Hin was a hokkien who lived by the railroad in Rahang. I used to hang around his house after school. He had a dog. Through my limited knowledge on Islam, at that time, he understood why it was haram for muslims to touch dogs. Chan Wai Mun, Ng Wai King and I traded the top three places in class come exam time. Ganesh was a feisty Indian boy who sprinted with me barefooted during the MSSNS Olahraga meets. We played gasing together during recess. Lalita was my first crush. I thought she was malay with a strange sounding name. One day I saw her mum and dad picking her up from school. I was bemused to see that her mum was Chinese and her dad was Indian. Then there was Faridal, the school gangster. His dad was some big shot businessman. He used to bully us around but being the natural 'salesman' that I am, he eventually became my buddy and a good one to have too. There was one time, very early in my standard one days that the teachers mistook me for a Chinese and I was bundled in the school Chapel one Friday afternoon. It was a strange experience for me but very much eye-opening.
We spoke a rojak of language then. Malay, a bit of Hokkien and Cantonese. Of course later on, we converse very much in English.
Fast forward, Wai King is now a succesful lawyer. I chanced upon him in a business deal I was working on. I heard from someone, Wai Mun is a doctor in Australia. A couple of years ago, I bumped into Lalita at the Seremban A&W. She had 3 sweet little daughters in-toe queuing for root beer floats and coney dogs. Her name is Anita now. She married a malay guy.
These are the founding years that bent me. These are the people that shaped me. I am thankful to all of them regardless of their race, their creed, their ideologies and their religion. This is the Malaysia I grew up in, these are the Malaysians I know.
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