Wannabe Malaysian, Boleh?

These days, I go over friend's blog and then try to figure out how am I going to get away with not reading so many posted entries. I met dear friends here on blogsphere, but ashamed I cannot keep up with their whereabouts. The truth is, well..the truth is terribly boring to say the least, I'm just busy trying to be a mother of 2 little darlings and keep my sanity at the same time.

What brings about the title of this entry then? Well, its a long story actually. But to make it short, I really want to be Malaysian, officially. If you are in the Ministry or someone who can help, please contact me, I am not kidding. It's past midnight, but this is well-thought out, serious.

The thing is, this is not a brand new idea. In the late 90s, I was away and 'soul-searching' in Kuala Lumpur and was totally penniless. The idea of giving up my passport seems lucrative then because I would get whatever little I have in the CPF (Central Provident Fund) and can use it to fund my rent and probably get myself a cool 'ol beaten up Volkswagen. It was purely economical, plus there was nothing waiting for me in Singapore anyway. I thought life can start all over again in this land of my ancestors. I was having a ball, my friends were great, laundry service is cheap, so is the makan, so why not? I met a young lawyer in my Theatre group who quickly became a good friend and he offered to help me. He did some research and came back telling me that I actually have A RIGHT to be Malaysian because one of my parents is Malaysian. Now, that is good news. But then, I was under 21, so I would have to get approval from that parent...and then it ends there. Perhaps it was meant to be, but I know, if it ever happened, I wouldn't have regretted the decision.

Why this desire to be a Malaysian, a country just a causeway away from mine. There are many reasons. But one thing is for sure, I feel at home in Malaysia.

Does it even matter now that I'm not even living in Asia anymore and perhaps never again? Yes, it matters, because when people ask me where I am from, I want to say that 'I'm from Malaysia' because it makes sense to me. I grew up occasionally visiting the padi fields of Arwah Atok. I remember clearly the aromas of fresh durians, mangos, mangosteens, rambutans and other local vegetables like petai and jering. Nek Ngah makes the best kueh kochi, and Arwah Nek Uda used to sell belachans and cincaloks which were homemade by her.

I want to belong to a place that does not look foreign to me. I want to belong to a country that has an identity. I want to belong in Malaysia because I cannot think of a reason why I shouldn't. Those 2 years with you taught me more than what 20 years has taught me in the country whose passport I'm obliged to carry. I don't know why I am on the other side of the causeway, if I was born before that decision was made - I would have crawled to be on your side, if that is what it takes. To validate that action, I'll say that more than half of my family is still there.

This may seem like a small matter. But in my opinion, this is a Big. In a time where Malays never felt more displaced than before, where crimes and drop-outs are synanamous with the word 'Malay', there is nothing more assuring that to see many malay muslim professionals gracing every top positions, gaining entries to universities locally and abroad, receiving scholarships, receiving awards and many more. A place where a Malay voice is being heard. An avenue where the malay's view is just as important. I want to read the headlines written by a malay. I would be so proud to be part of all that.

Why would I have a congkak with me, miles away from its birthplace, if not to say that I used to play with it as a child?

I am a malay, am I not. So, Malaysia, Boleh?