Rendang and Muhibbah

October 11

Our neighbour, Abang Ramlan and wife, Kak Latifah came over just as we were leaving the house for our brunch. "Come over for dinner tonight, we are having an open house for family and friends". Delightfully we agreed. We popped over at eight, just after Maghrib prayers with a hamper. No, we could not step into a party empty-handed. It was just outright rude. We bersalam with the hosts, and immediate family members including Kak Tifah's mum who personally prepared the beef rendang. I decided not to take any photographs although I brought my camera along.

We dugged into the simple spread on the table - beef rendang, nasi lemak with sambal kerang (cockles in chillie and oil) and sambal sotong (cuttlefish cooked in chillie and oil), nasi himpit (malay style of stuffed rice) with peanut sauce, cakes, fruits, teh O (plain tea) and orange cordial. Adrian had like four helpings to the rendang and nasi himpit, and I glared at him for being such a glutton, and sternly reminded him that there were other guests, mainly relatives and friends that had just arrived and had not had their share. Sigh, no brakes to that stomach of his.

It was such a long time since I attended an open house during Raya, and being there was a heartwarming reminder of the muhibbah spirit we all shared. There was no difference in skin colour, or religion, or culture. There were just friends having a good time and a hearty meal.

This localised scene was a starking contrast to the issue of racism that has been sweeping our nation way before the March 8 elections, and is still razing on, as well as the endless politicking and lobbying for posts and roles at the expense of justice and truth, was reflective of the immaturity of politicians. In all honesty, our ancestors were all immigrants. No race own this land. It was just a matter of which race came first. In our history books, we read of Parameswara, the Sumatran prince who fled Palembang and stumbled upon Malacca, which he named after the tree he napped under. That was the origin of the Malay Sultanate, that continued to be present in this land today.

I was born in the Taiping general hospital over three decades ago, and I shared an incubator with an Indian girl for an entire month as I was born prematured. There were Malay infants in the same room. Were we then still immigrants, having born in the same hospital, almost within the same time and date? By heritage I am a chinese, my upbringing was Malaysian and was educated in Malaysian schools, graduated from the first university established in the country, working in a homegrown company and contributing the the economy of Malaysia, and paying taxes to the Malaysia IRB. I might not have brought glory to this country in academics, sports, beauty pageants, or other fields. Does that make me less a Malaysian? Is it not that citizenship is granted when you are born in Malaysia, to Malaysian (chinese) parents and family? My MyKad and passport state my nationality as a Malaysian. Doesn't all these make me a worthy Malaysian?

After half a century of gaining independence, our country seemed to be regressing instead of moving forward. It is indeed a sad state that our country had landed itself in. Over the years, I began to look outward for job opportunities, with hope that it'd gain me a better life in a country that would recognise me as its citizen. How long does it take dear Malaysia to realise that there are many that love this country, and all the constant insinuation would only drive away its very own people that would proudly call themselves, Bangsa Malaysia?