http://www.ukeconline.com/CEKU/?p=261
By Karyn Khor
I’ve always known since I was in primary school that I lived in a very sheltered world. What I didn’t know was just how sheltered it really was. I knew that my parents did their very best to protect me from… something. I was never really sure what, back then.
I knew that despite never having gone to university themselves, they worked hard to send me to a ditzy private school, where money talked and if you had money you were equal, because they didn’t want me to grow up in a world where I could ‘see’ the colour of people’s skins. Then they sent me to art, piano and ballet classes in the slums of KL where for a period of time my best friends were a group of Indian and Malay girls because they needed me to know that less money didn’t actually mean less equal. They took extra effort to ensure my English was close to flawless, and then encouraged my participation in homestays, international programmes and competitions held abroad because they wanted me to know that other worlds existed.
And then when all was said and done, they sent me overseas to study in the autumn of 2008. And then for the first time, with unclouded eyes, I could see Malaysia. I use ‘could see’ instead of ‘saw’ because I’m still watching, like I’m sure many of us are, if not for any other reason than just to see what kind of circus act they’ll pull next.
I will be frank here; I think I’ve matured as a person more in the last 3 years of my life in London than I had in any other 3-year-period of my life. Watching my home from afar was like watching the beginning your first attempt at a long-distance relationship (LDR) with your partner; you start to see less of the good stuff and more of the bad. You start to be nitpicky about the little things that make you grumble. You start to wonder whether your now seemingly dysfunctional lover is really the right one for you.
I started to see cases like the Altantuya and Teoh Beng Hock episodes in a new light; and oh! what a different light it was from the one in the papers back home. For lack of newspapers I resorted to Google, Youtube, Facebook and Twitter, and only then was it apparent to me what a divided nation we were. I tsk-tsked at the post-2008 elections party-jumping, as I did the by-elections and the campaign smearing. I was appalled at the cow head event, and the way the government handled the Hindraf movement, and raged with the rest of my fellow Chinese when Malays back home publicly called us and the Indians immigrants, to whom the Malays gave ‘permission’ to stay and therefore to whom we should be grateful for their overwhelming compassion and generosity. I laughed in an effort to hide my shame from my international colleagues when Malay public figures made scandalous, ridiculous, illogical statements in international news or on YouTube, whether it was regarding what we should or should not be allowed to call the Abrahamic God, or a day meant to be a celebration of love, or the recent atrocities being committed by Middle East dictators.
Sometimes the attacks got more personal. I had a Chinese friend who was brutally beaten up and called
pendatang by a group of Malay youths on New Year’s Eve 2009 in KL when travelling home with her friend after the countdown. Police reports bore no fruit. Last summer I was with my family at the Alamanda shopping centre, Putrajaya. As we were on an escalator going downwards, a Malay teen about my age and his girlfriend on the opposite escalator said loudly as they passed us, “
Babi Cina balik kampung”. My brother nearly sprinted up the escalator after them in his anger, but he was held back by our father, who quietly said that we were surrounded by Malays here in Alamanda, and that uneducated people like that weren’t worth the trouble.
Slowly but surely, I could feel the strain in this LDR. I felt used and abused. I felt like my trust was betrayed, like I had fallen in love with nothing but a mere lie. I began to question what Malaysia had done for me. I have had nothing but love and pride for my country and in return I have been humiliated and told that I, as a person (dare I say Malaysian citizen?) was insignificant and that the Malay(sian?) community would be better off if I left. I was sad and depressed for a while. If my home didn’t want me then where could I go? What could I do?
Ah, but the truest deepest emotions only show their horns when tested.
I was invited to a lunch this year by a group of Singaporean girls. I was the only Malaysian to attend. The lunch was going well, until the inevitable subject came up of what I would do after I graduate. I said I was going to go home, and maybe find work in a law firm or at the Bar. One of them testily asked if I was happy in Malaysia. Without thinking I laughed and said, “Of course I was,” to which another responded, “You don’t mind being treated as a second-class citizen?”. I answered with utmost patience that while I was in Malaysia I certainly didn’t feel that way… the ‘pressure’ of being called a second-class Malaysian came primarily from political parties and maybe the odd racist or three.
It went on in this vein for a while, talking about abuse of power, bribery and corruption, basic human rights and so forth, until one of the girls couldn’t take it and outright asked me, “What do
you find so nice about Malaysia? You say because you were born there and it feels like home, but
I was born in Malaysia, and I think that country is a downright ‘sh*thole’.”
Never mind the fact that this was coming from a girl I’d never spoken to before that lunch, or that she was born in Malaysia, or that she was Singaporean… But in my head I saw red, although I did my best to maintain a casual, logical argument. But it was impossible. I could not believe that this person had insulted my country so, and in doing so insulted me. The rest of the lunch was awkward and constrained, and I took my leave as soon as possible.
And when I got home I wondered why I’d reacted that way. Was I being purely defensive? Yes. Did I have a reason to be? Yes. What was the reason? Well, in simple words… I
love my Malaysia.
It would be a lie for me to say that I am not embarrassed to be associated with our dumb, simple-minded politicians, or that I don’t care that there are people at home calling me and my family and friends immigrants and treating us as if we were lesser beings than them.
It would be a farce to say that I believe the current government represents me, as it would be to say that corruption and bribery in Malaysia is insignificant.
But that’s only one side of the relationship.
I
love that I had and still have friends who see in colour but know that colour in itself means nothing. I
love that foreign tourists love my country and think it’s beautiful. I
love our hot and stormy weather. I
love our practically disaster-free and rich environment. I am proud of our accomplishments in the international arena with regards to things like Free Trade Zones, apartheid, and the study of Islam. I basically love my country for everything they taught us to love it for in
Pendidikan Moral classes… and
then some.
Because I also love the fact that we are a nation of pirates (come on, which of you isn’t?). I love that Malaysians are the ones who are not bothered by noisy
mamak stalls or cyber cafes, and who don’t mind sitting on the floor if there are no chairs available (so long as the floor is reasonably clean, of course). I love that our basic necessities like petrol and certain foods are subsidised. I love that I know so many Chinese, Malays and Indians who can ALL speak Malay, English, Hindi and some Chinese dialect, when most other people in the world only know one or two languages at best. I love that I know so many mixed-race families. I love that despite the racial-political turmoil my friends and family can live happy, comfortable lives, doing things they enjoy doing. Nearly everything I could identify myself with is because of Malaysia… my first love, my other half, my nurturer, my guardian.
I know Malaysia has its sad points, but nobody is perfect. Some people will tell us that our constitution denies us our fundamental and basic rights as citizens. Maybe, maybe not; it is difficult, if not impossible, to come to a consensus on where the line is between basic and secondary rights; we may even argue that the line is arbitrary. I truly am sorry to those who are offended or put off by me saying so, but being raised in a Taoist-Freethinker family means I tend to take a very pragmatic approach to life, and if there is a way to happiness then maybe we aren’t all that bad off, although things could be better.
Still, others will say that it’s not worth fighting against the flow of the things, and that the easier option is to just leave, like ‘they’ want us to. And to those of you who agree, I ask you; what will leaving accomplish? Will it make you
that much happier? Will your life be
that much easier? Will you be able to find a new home free of all the laws and rules that constrain you here, and more suited to life as you dreamed it would be? If the answer is ‘yes’ and you are sure, then by all means go. All I would ask is to be wary that you do not make your decisions on a whim or while you’re on an emotional high.
LDRs are difficult for several reasons. Stepping back gives you a perspective of your love that you may never have noticed while you were standing right next to it. Being away for so long means your love will change over time, and may just be someone completely different the next time you meet. In the meantime tensions may sprout and grow and remain unresolved for a long, long time.
But just like every other relationship, if at the end of the day, having seen your lover from so many points of view, and experiencing both the good and the bad, you still feel drawn to that love that you have, then maybe that love really was destined to be. Sure there are some crinkles and creases to work out, but with gentle but forceful nudging we will eventually find a way to make this relationship better; of that I have every confidence.
Don’t let anyone judge your relationship with your country for you. They only know their side of the story, and they could be very, very wrong. Ask your family, and ask your friends, one very simple question: could Malaysia give you a good life? Could it make you and your loved ones happy? If the answer is yes, be proud of it. If the answer is no, tackle the problem, discuss it with people, take action. If anything or everything in you screams ‘Made in Malaysia’ then, by God, be proud of it and give it voice and form.
We are a nation that is very much a tapestry of life. Your story is very much your own thread in that tapestry; and no one should decide where it should lead to but yourself.
–
Karyn is a geek from King’s with a social life, and too many passions for her own good. When not immersing herself in books or laughing at the Malaysian circus, she may be playing DCUO, painting model figurines, writing and drawing comics or clubbing the night away in a top hat.
www.ukeconline.comI’ve always known since I was in primary school that I lived in a very sheltered world. What I didn’t know was just how sheltered it really was. I knew that my parents did their very best to protect me from… something. I was never really sure what, back then.
I just read this article, and I think it's really well written. Fantastic interpretations and hilarious examples. Eloquent, and worth the 5 minutes worth of read. Kudos to Karyn Khor, whoever you are. If you're Malaysian, or not a Malaysian and would like to know our spirit; our true spirit, read this and it'll click. We're not just a country, we're a nation that is very much a tapestry of life.
The Nelson Eddy Memorial Award goes to: Rex Harrison, son of Niki Taylor.
