I’m a pure Malay.
At least that’s what’s stated in my IC.
Growing up in a small town in Pahang, nobody spent much time thinking about race anyway.
Life was too busy for that.
I needed to herd family cows, swim in rivers, ride bicycles and avoid teachers whenever homework wasn’t done.
Here are my closest childhood friends:
Rosazali Bin Ghani
Tek Chong Meng
Low Teik Wan
Ng Soon Kiang
Teh Tin Lim
Cham Choon Fatt
Chow Yun-Fat (errr….no, just joking)
Yes, only one close Malay friend.
The rest were Chinese boys who grew up with me.
We cycled together.
Played Kungfu fighting together.
Got into trouble together.
And sometimes got naughty and chased by angry adults together.
We never touched Ketuanan Melayu or non-bumi inequality.
Why?
Because they did not exist. At least not in our little world.
Nobody sat under a tree debating policies.
Nobody cared who was bumi and who wasn’t.
We were just kampung boys trying to survive another day without getting scolded by our parents.
Tek Chong Meng’s dad was a fishmonger, he drove a Mazda 626. Back then, a Mazda 626 looked like a spaceship to us.
If somebody arrived in one, we assumed he had made it in life.
Low Teik Wan’s dad was a Tokei balak (forestry business owner).
Everybody knew that. In a small town, everybody knew everybody’s business too.
But Ng Soon Kiang never saw a silver spoon. His dad repaired bicycles. His family was so poor that the State sponsored his studies from year one to University Sains Malaysia.
I still remember that clearly. Life wasn’t easy for his family.
Many people talk about poverty as a statistic. I saw it as a reality.
Even I, with a family head bringing home $200 per month didn’t have such a privilege.
Because a bicycle repairer would be lucky to bring home $100 per month.
That puts things into perspective.
What we think we know and what actually happened can be two different things.
On paper you can lay out a lot of things, produce reports, or quote figures.
You can argue until the cows come home.
I know a thing or two about cows because most of my ‘free’ childhood times were spent herding cows.
In reality things can be different. What I saw growing up was simple.
The rich came from different races, the poor came from different races too.
Some succeeded, some struggled.
But most were simply trying to make ends meet.
Malaysia is for everybody for real. I have seen enough of life to believe that.
Not from reading books.
Not from watching politicians on television.
Not from social media.
But from living it.
From sitting in classrooms with friends from different backgrounds.
From visiting their homes.
From seeing how hard their parents worked.
If no one plays victim, things can move forward, right here in Malaysia❕
We have enough challenges already. The economy doesn’t ask about race.
Inflation doesn’t ask about race.
A car accident certainly doesn’t ask about race.
When life hits you, it hits everybody. That’s why I remain optimistic about this country.
When I think about my childhood, I don’t remember races.
I remember names.
Rosazali.
Tek Chong Meng.
Low Teik Wan.
Ng Soon Kiang.
Teh Tin Lim.
Cham Choon Fatt.
And thankfully, not Chow Yun-Fat.
Otherwise I would probably be asking him for an autograph today.
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