A young Malaysian went from being severely confused to relaxed and happy.
I STOOD in a corner, watching my friends excitedly prying open one durian after another. One friend turned to me and said, “Wouldn’t you like to try one?”
Another friend smiled and retorted, “She’s Melayu celup, she doesn’t eat durian and she wants to marry a British.” I laughed at his comment, but I still gave the durian a pass.
In a way, my friend was right. I adore Jude Law. But I don’t know the latest local chart-topping songs and artistes.
I am uncertain whether my ignorance is because I love to daydream, or stems from a sheltered childhood spent in religious boarding schools.
Unlike my peers in national schools, I did not sing Negaraku every morning. It was perhaps because I was studying in a not-so-pro-government school or because, as implied by my teachers, singing was not considered religious.
I was never a part of the country’s excitement in celebrating National Day; we’d be attending classes. It is just one of the many things that most Malaysian youngsters enjoy that I realised I had missed growing up; like befriending people of different races and religions.
I was a rebellious teenager – quiet but rebellious. In a way, I think it was my response to the limitations inflicted upon me at religious school, where male and female students were segregated, televisions and radios not provided, and no contact with other schools established.
So I “made friends” with books and magazines; I subscribed to youth magazines, highlighting every word I found inspiring and kept them on my desks. I bought books every time I returned home. I built a world I could escape to. Through time, the books slowly shaped the way I thought and viewed the world. They had me thinking and constantly questioning what I had learned and thought was correct.
For instance, we were taught the importance of applying best religious practices, such as donning jubah and tudung labuh for girls. Some students who left the school later opted to wear baju kurung, seluar, or tudung tiga segi, and were frowned upon.
It was puzzling to me how simply being different could warrant such disapproval when I was also taught that my religion encourages love and tolerance not only among Muslims but towards non-Muslims, too.
In addition, my teacher always pointed out how students are susceptible to temptations in the dangerous world out there. At some point, I almost believed that it was safer to stay put in my school, being friends with people of similar views and beliefs.
I left school and entered a matriculation centre. I realised then how severely confused I was. People moved in cliques on campus. But I was alone. I tried to find people similar to me in appearance and thinking, only to receive hushed questions about which political side my parents were supporting.
Above all, I was astounded to receive warm greetings and friendship from colleagues – men and women – who were totally unlike me.
As I went through university, I found out instead how similar I was to other youths, regardless of our upbringing, religion, and race. As I read books, watched films and got to know different people, I was amazed to discover so many great things about others.
I have also been able to experience other aspects of being a Malaysian. I remember being awashed with pride and sadness as I sang Negaraku aloud during orientation.
During my third year, my friends and I stayed up late to watch fireworks on the eve of National Day. I remember being moved to tears as my Chinese friend warmly said, “Bless you!” when I sneezed.
I have also begun to know my country and its people better during my trips to the campus in Pahang, and to my mother’s hometown in Johor.
As one of my close friends observed, it is peculiar and unusual to hear Linkin Park’s Meteroa blaring away in a car driven by a girl in a tudung labuh.
I have gone from being timid and serious, to relaxed and happy. I smile and talk to strangers, joke with friends and am delighted to see Daniel Radcliffe’s picture in the newspaper.
I still have a long way to go but people who were strangers once are now close friends.
I believe God can reveal Himself in any way He desires. I believe He wants us to find Him through ways we are happy and comfortable with. I believe in the universal truth: everything begins as a good thing.
I believe I can learn and see God in every possible moment – the trickle of spring water, the smile of a Christian friend, the embrace of a sun bear. I believe kindness is to be shared with everyone – my parents, my friends, and kids across the world. I believe that is the kind of world God wants us to create.
I think being a Malaysian is about all of us looking after one another, not simply because we are of similar race, religion, or living in the same country, but because it is the best we can do in being human. As Morrie Schwartz in Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie says, “Love each other, or die.”
Nurhidayati, 22, is a final year environmental biotechnology student in the International Islamic University in Kuantan.
