Being an Anak Malaysia means somehow, “Makan already?” can mean so much more than just asking if you’re hungry.
Last year, on Merdeka Day, I was once again sitting at the bus station, waiting for my bus back to Malaysia. Around me were Malaysians doing exactly what I was doing, taking a break from work and making their way home for the long weekend. Some had huge luggage, some were carrying bags of food, and some were already on the phone telling their families, “I'll reach soon.” But that day felt a little different. Maybe because it was Merdeka, or maybe because after spending so much time away from home, I suddenly realised how much I missed it.
I was tired and hungry, but too lazy to get up and look for food because I didn't want to leave my luggage alone.
An elderly Malay aunty was sitting beside me with a plastic bag on her lap. She noticed me looking at it and smiled. “Makan already, anak?” she asked. I shook my head and told her I hadn't eaten yet. Without asking anything else, she opened her bag and took out a few pieces of kuih. “Ambil lah. Jangan malu-malu.” I told her it was okay, but she insisted. “Aiyo, take lah. I bought too much. If you don't eat, later I have to finish it all myself.” I laughed and finally took one.
It was just a small piece of kuih, but somehow, it tasted like home.
Maybe it was because I hadn't eaten Malaysian kuih in a while. Maybe it was because I was sitting in Singapore on Merdeka Day, surrounded by people who were all trying to get back to the same country. Or maybe it was simply the way she gave it to me without knowing who I was, where I came from, or whether I could ever repay her. She just saw someone who hadn't eaten and thought, here, have some.
We started talking while sharing the kuih. I found out that she was Malaysian too and had also been working in Singapore for years. She told me about the place she grew up in, the food she missed, and how she would always bring something back from Malaysia whenever she went home. I told her how I missed eating at mamak stalls late at night, buying snacks from roadside stalls, and having family members ask me to eat even when I had just finished a meal.
“Malaysian food is still the best, right?” she asked.
I laughed. “Of course lah.”
Then she smiled and said, “Work here, rindu rumah sana.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Because I knew exactly what she meant.
I looked around the bus station again. There were Malaysians everywhere. A Malay family speaking loudly over the phone. A Chinese couple sharing snacks. An Indian family carrying bags of food. People like me with luggage. Different races, different languages, different lives, but all waiting for a bus back to Malaysia.
For a moment, I realised that we had brought little pieces of Malaysia with us into Singapore. The food in our bags. The “lah” at the end of our sentences. The way we talk to strangers. The habit of asking “makan already?” even when we barely know someone.
We often think of Merdeka through flags, fireworks, parades, and patriotic songs. But after spending time away from Malaysia, I realised that the things I miss most aren't always the things we put on a stage. Sometimes, they are the smallest things: a familiar taste, a familiar accent, a familiar joke, or a stranger calling you “anak” like you've known each other for years.
Before my bus arrived, I thanked the aunty for the kuih. She waved her hand and said, “Aiyo, no need lah. Take care, anak.”
I looked down at the last piece of kuih in my hand.
She didn't know my name.
I didn't know hers.
But somehow, that little piece of kuih carried something much bigger than food. It reminded me that being Malaysian is not only about where we live, where we were born, or what race we are. It is also about the little ways we make each other feel at home.
Maybe that is what Malaysia means to me.
A country where different people can sit beside each other, share food and talk like old friends.
A country where an aunty can look at a complete stranger and simply say,
“Makan dulu, anak.”
And for a moment, even hundreds of kilometres away from where I call home, I felt like I was home.
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Felicia Yoan (feliciayoan11@gmail.com) is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
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