Addressing Malaysia's ethnicity in the 21st century

Racism and ethnicity are quite close to me, my maternal grandmother was born to a poor Chinese family in mid 1920s. She was then adopted by a wealthy Malay-Arab trader who later adopted three other Chinese girls in the family. My grandmother, Maimunah Abdullah had three other Chinese sisters brought up in the household of a Malay-Arab family.

Johor Bahru was a melting-pot of all ethnicities with the Chinese trading in the cities, the Malays in Kampung Wadihana or Kampung Majidee, the Indians in the nearby estates and plantations – a classic divide and rule from the British Advisors in independent Johor Sultanate.

Ms. Maimunah was married at an early age of only 14 years old, to a man twice her age. My grandfather, Abu Bakar Jaafar was a promising Johor Civil Servant, an affluent and respectable profession as Assistant District Officer. One of the reasons, Ms. Maimunah was married off early because in 1944, Malaya was under Japanese Occupation, her foster-mother, Sharifah did not want the Japanese officers and soldiers to kidnap or take her hostage as words around in the kampungs that Chinese girls were taken as comfort women to serve the Japanese troops. Ms. Maimunah were still playing with dolls at that age but had to grow up fast as she was going to be the wife of a young Johor State officer.

In those years being a young wife, she had a penchant for cooking and made the best Malay-style delicacies that the even the Sultan of Johor then, DYMM Sultan Sir Ismail Al Khalid ibni Al-Marhum Sultan Ibrahim Al-Masyhur employed her as the official chef of Istana Bukit Serene. Her cooking skills were to die for, and luckily for us in, these skills were quickly acquired by the ladies of my family especially my sisters and my cousins. Roti telur, nasi goreng Mak Pon, Briyani Johor and the works.

Unfortunately, for Ms. Maimunah – May Allah Bless her Soul, she disliked her own heritage, she can look like any Chinese aunty but because she was brought up in a Malay household, she did not associate herself as a Chinese. However, her eldest daughter, my late mother was proud of her Chinese heritage. She would train her grandchildren to call her Poh Poh (grandmother) and always remind us which part of mainland China her mother’s side were from. We were ingrained at the youngest age, that Chinese people were hardworking, intelligent, business-savvy and most of all resilient and a survivor.

My sons would inherit the Chinese looks and when they attended an all-Malay school, it was obvious that there were called “Cina”. At first it was taken in light humour when they are called “Cina who eats pork” or “Cina who cannot recite the surah Al-fatihah”. I would ask them how would they feel, luckily for them their teachers would defend my boys and say that they are handsome Chinese boys and typical stereotyping of Chinese: they are good with money and are wealthy.

Having attended public schools in the United States and the United Kingdom in 1980s to 1990s, being a minority in a foreign land – one would not escape the feeling of being marginalised and sidelined. I was concerned when the opportunity rises to relocate to Japan, would my son feel the same discrimination and racial disharmony in a foreign land such as their father.

Fortunately, because they have slit eyes and fair skin, in Japan they are treated like any Japanese boys. The irony if only their great-Grandmother, Ms. Maimunah were to learn that her great-Grandsons were studying in Japanese schools after experiencing Japanese Occupation in 1940s. The label of “Pendatang” or Immigrant in 1990s London was surreal, being called flat-nosed, slit-eyes or “Go back to your country” was a constant reminder that you are un-welcomed here, even when you explained that we will return to Malaysia when it is time to go home.

Malaysia in 1990s was still an experiment in ethnic relations. It was only two decades after May 13 and everything was still fragile. I had the most interesting experience when in Sekolah Tinggi Port Dickson, we played football together with our Chinese and Indian friends in our interclass football tournament. I don’t think the same could be applied to kids today. Playing together as a team.

Reading at Harith Iskander’s facebook page comments, netizens have commented on the responsibility of the government, the policymakers, the abolishment of vernacular schools and always about teachers not playing their role, or Ministries not implementing their philosophy. I think everything should begin from us at home. We should educate ourselves and our children, what is OK and not OK. We should start to understand, to listen more and to accept more. It is always they against us, when we eat the same roti canai kuah kari with sambal, capati with dhal, nasi lemak, kuew teow goreng and enjoy that dim sum.

I am extremely lucky that I still keep in touch with my Chinese and Indian friends, when we attended the Royal Military College in Sungai Besi. We still go for marathon runs when the opportunity rises. We were treated the same, doesn’t matter if you are a son of a bangsawan (noblemen), a fisherman’s son, a General’s son or a Corporal’s son. There was no preferential treatment, everyone will be punished or rewarded the same. We learned to love, respect and be kind to each other. We learned that if we bicker, we would sink the ship – that we are all in the same place.

There are of course prejudices and discrimination in every nook and corner, but wouldn’t it be nice, if we were to understand more of each other and accept that we are in it here together – wouldn’t it be nice?