Travel
A Sense of Belonging
by NITHYA SIDHU
If anyone were to ask me how Malaysian I am, I'd say "through and through".
I've considered no other country my home except Malaysia. Yes, I know of friends or students who have migrated and made other countries their own, extolled the virtues of their new land and even invited me to make a similar choice.
I'm not ignorant of the fact that this country of ours has its shortcomings but then, which country hasn't?
I've travelled through India and even visited Sri Lanka. In both these countries, although I recognised words, customs, food and cultural norms that were part of my heritage, I still felt I didn't belong.
But the minute I land in Malaysia and start seeing the familiar rows of oil palm trees dotting the landscape, an overwhelming feeling of relief courses through me - I know I'm home!
As a tourist overseas, I'm often asked if I'm from India and my reply is that I am a Malaysian from MALAYSIA. Yes, I am. The pride and spirit in me is that of the true Malaysian.
Recently, I read a speech on the Internet entitled "The America We Love", delivered by United States President Barack Obama in Missouri when he was still a Senator, two years ago.
His words struck a chord in me. "Patriotism starts as a gut instinct, a loyalty and love for country rooted in my earliest memories."
These words ring true to me.
My earliest and happiest memories are that of playing tirelessly with Malay children of my age, running, laughing, squabbling and eating together.
As children of a Sikh police sergeant, we were the only non-Malays in the police barracks. This was neither a deterrent nor a barrier to me.
Malay words rattled off my tongue as easily as rain dripping down an inclined roof. There were times when I even hung around bedroom doors to see the rotund makciks (aunts) strap themselves into tight kebaya and put on their make-up to catch a cheap matinee in town.
I felt at home in their kitchens, helping them make Malay kuih-muih.
With no TV at home, I watched black-and-white English and Hindi movies in theirs. I grew up playing masak-masak and after a heavy downpour, I still remember dashing with this motley collection of mates to collect fallen tamarind pods or raw mangoes.
Seeing how I was growing up almost half-Malay, my father insisted on sending my siblings and me to Punjabi class after my regular primary school hours were done. Here, at the hands of a strict granthi, I learned to read, write and speak my own mother tongue better.
Be it in saying prayers, singing hymns, writing essays or giving speeches - my father made us participate and by doing that, ensured that we didn't forget our roots.
Among us siblings, English was (of course!) our own chosen language of communication. By the age of 12, I was able to say alhamdullilah as confidently as I could say sat sri akaal.
I must confess that even today, I am moved by listening to a soulful Punjabi folk song just as I am to the call of prayer on the morning of the first day of Hari Raya Puasa.
This Malaysia childhood I had expanded further in my teens when a group of Cantonese-speaking girls from a neighbouring Chinese school "invaded" my Science stream class in Form Four.
Frankly speaking, it was impossible not to befriend them. They were talkative, smart and fun to be with.
On the home front, my father had retired and we were now living in a new village populated predominantly by Chinese.
My whole life underwent a 360 degree change. I absorbed Cantonese as if by osmosis, and was very much at home with my new Chinese friends.
It was barter trade of sorts for the next four years - My English and Malay for their Cantonese.
Then, as fate would have it, entering university exposed me to the one race I had little to do with from young - Sikhs and Indians! From the day orientation started, they entered my life in a big way.
Although I still hung out regularly with my Malay and Chinese friends, force of circumstance made me mix and mingle more with Sikhs and Indians.
While I was stunned by the diversity among them, I took it in my stride. Tamils, Malayalees, Gujeratis, Punjabis, Telugu, Brahmin, Ceylonese -what a masala mix it was.
Once again, I thrived by adapting. Over the four years I spent with them, I learnt a lot - not only common, useful words I could use, but also the fact that their language, music, food and culture could be very different! What a ride!
But it assured me this - by the time I graduated, the Malaysian in me was complete.
When I began teaching, my prowess in languages held me in good stead.
As a teacher who connects with her Chinese students, converses in fluent English and Malay and in rudimentary Tamil, I found acceptance rapidly and built instant rapport with my students.
If patriotism, as Obama describes it, is about us "thinking deeply of the commitment that binds us to our nation, and to each other - a commitment that extends beyond self-interest", then I must say that I practise it.
If patriotism "is working constantly to make your country a better place for future generations", I must say again that I've contributed throughout my years of service as a teacher.
As for my students, I see them not as an orang asli, Iban, Kadazan, Chinese, Punjabi, Indian or Malay. I see them as children to whom I would like to impart my skills and knowledge.
Patriotism is the fire of passion burning in a teacher's eyes when all he wants is for the young in his country to reach for the sky.
Selamat Hari Merdeka!
[Courtesy: The Star]
August 29, 2010
Conversation about this article
1: Daljit Singh (London, United Kingdom), September 03, 2010, 3:59 PM.
I am a Malaysian and when I finished secondary education, there were no prospects for me for further education and even jobs. I felt compelled out from a lovely country and there was outright discrimination as the bhumiputras were reaping the benefits, whilst other ethnic groups were working very hard to achieve their goals in life. Migration started and there was a massive brain drain and the bhumiuputras did nothing to retain this great loss to a progressive nation. Unlike you, I visited Punjab and just fell in love with Sikh culture. I lost out big time being born in Malaysia and my knowledge of Sikhi was so limited and diluted being brought up in Malaysia. I migrated to the U.K. and I developed both professionally and personally. My mother discouraged me from going to India. But once in Punjab, I learnt gurbani, the Sikh culture and had my Amrit which strengthened my Sikh beliefs and practices. I'd rather go to Punjab than Malaysia and be overwhelmed by the ubiquitous Muslim faith. I plan to return to the Punjab and enjoy the pulsating Sikh culture and do seva to the community.