“The question isn’t who is going to let me, it’s who is going to stop me,”
– Ayn Rand, 1905-1982, American writer.
Ever had that feeling, you know, that moment when you’re like, “What did I get myself into?” Your heart’s pounding, and you’re about to leap into the unknown. Well, that was me, exactly fourteen years ago today, lying on the cold floor of Kuala Lumpur International Airport (KLIA).
I remember looking around at the crowd, everyone’s face telling a story. Everywhere you turned, someone was either tearing up while saying goodbye or bouncing around with excitement. Next to me was this Malay guy, probably around my age, looking just as lost in the chaos.
I took a chance and asked him, “Heading to the UK?” He had that British vibe going on.
He grinned and said, “You got it. LSE. Chasing the dream, you know. And you?”
“New York, for studying,” I said, trying not to sound too smug. “Ever heard of Columbia?”
We hit it off like we were old buddies, both wide-eyed and eager about what lay ahead. Before we parted ways, he gave me some advice, “You know, as thrilling as all this is, never forget where you come from, okay? Don’t be one of those people who forget their roots, like they say, ‘seperti kacang lupakan kulit’.”
I laughed and patted him on the back, saying, “Man, I won’t. And you better not either. There’s a whole world out there, but home will always have its pull.”
Fast forward a few years to Sandakan Airport. My wife and I were waiting to fly back to Kuala Lumpur after a short vacation. I’ve always seen airports as theatres, with stories unfolding everywhere. And this time, I was about to become part of one. Out of nowhere, a round middle-aged woman, a local from Sabah, approached us. She had two shy teenage girls with her, whom she introduced as her daughter and niece.
She started by asking for directions, but then, with hope in her eyes, she asked us, “They’re off to university in Shah Alam. It’s their first flight, their first everything. Can you keep an eye on them until their cousin arrives?”
Now, let me tell you, I can’t even keep track of my socks. I looked at my wife, raising my eyebrows in surprise. Before I could even process it, she nodded and agreed.
Later, as the grateful mother showered us with thank yous, I leaned into my wife and whispered, “You acted fast! What if we lost them?”
She just chuckled and squeezed my arm, saying, “We were in their shoes once, remember? Everything felt overwhelming. But there were always kind souls who guided us.”
As we made our way, that thankful mother stayed close, her eyes following our every step until we reached the departure gate. Even after a tearful goodbye, she kept waving until we disappeared from her view.
In Terengganu’s Pasar Payang, we had another unexpected moment. A casual chat at a bus stop turned into a delightful tea session on a farmer’s woven mat. If that’s not a crash course in Malaysian hospitality, I don’t know what is.
And then there’s Penang. I was driving around like a lost chicken, desperately searching for a place. So, like any clueless tourist, I pulled over and asked a girl waiting for the rain to stop under her umbrella.
“Excuse me, miss. Do you know how to get to Chowrasta Market?”
She replied, “I’m actually heading there too. I can show you.”
Without hesitating, she closed her umbrella and hopped into the back seat of my car. Just like that! If this had been Kuching or KL, I might’ve thought she was crazy. But instead, I laughed. I’m pretty sure she saw my amused face in the rearview mirror more than she saw the road ahead. That’s Penang for you, a mix of surprises and delights.
As I sit here on the eve of our 60th Malaysia Day, my phone keeps buzzing with messages from everyone and their uncle. But let’s be real, it’s not all rainbows and butterflies.
Sure, we have our disagreements. But if you peel away all the noise, what’s left? Those simple moments of randomness; the genuine laughs, and the shared memories. It’s you, me, and millions of others who have built something here, right?
But then we have all this talk about racial identities, especially for political reasons. Look, inflation has taught us a valuable lesson. It hits us all, and it hits hard. The real issues are out there … the auntie who bargains for a better price on fish, or the uncle who sells enough packets of nasi lemak every day to send his kids to tuition.
These racial squabbles? They’re like quicksand, dragging us down.
But hey, there are those liberals and fierce women who are breaking glass ceilings and refusing to buy into these old narratives. They’re yearning for change, a real fresh start. And you know what? They’re onto something.
We’ve come a long way as a nation, but there’s still work to be done. We need to focus on what unites us rather than what divides us. It’s about embracing our diversity and celebrating our shared heritage. At the end of the day, we’re all Malaysians, and that’s something special.
So, as we celebrate Malaysia Day, let’s remember those random encounters, the acts of kindness, and the moments that made us feel connected. Let’s build on them and strive for a better future, together.
And if you ever find yourself in an airport, take a moment to appreciate the stories unfolding around you. Who knows, you might just become part of someone else’s memorable journey.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune
