Learning differences

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.

A writer's letter

JLN KUALA KRAI, July 2007

MY DEAR READERS-

After a long time and again, I must admit I simply cannot cease (and resist) writing as much as I would love to. Although my academic years has seen me struggling to generate a 50,000 words scientific thesis, I had lived most of my adolescent years scribbling on my notebooks – copying quotes from books and essays, creating my naïve, happily ever after love stories, and writing lengthy letters to families and friends. During the virtual era of my freshman and sophomore years, I had enjoyed writing about books for the little audience I received on my blog for a prosperous three years, and exchanging emails (and love letters) to the amazing friends I had accumulated throughout the five continents. Nevertheless, I do regret not being able to find my sweet friends I was acquainted with while in Jordan twelve years ago – sadly, we were far from the age of Friendster and Facebook at the time.

Now, I am beginning to believe the love of writing comes hand in hand with the love of reading. It is the marriage of two rituals where one cannot live without the other. I started, I suppose as any other hopeful writers, with reading. The early childhood reading of the Malay version of Enid Blyton’s series begun as my escape to find friendships and adventures beyond my quiet life of growing up as the only girl in the family. I turned to reading Malay literatures and fictions while I was in high school, following my rebellious streaks and youth angst. Towards the end of it, it was Adeline Yen Mah’s Chinese Cinderella (a book I remember only vaguely now, after losing it few years ago) which taught me a sense of expressing oneself through writing and how to put up a fight using it. If reading is my shield from the world, writing became my sword.

These days, often imagining myself as the philosopher and editor of the Review of Applied Ethics Isabel Dalhousie, my beloved character in the Sunday Philosophy Club series, I write rather leisurely. Interspersed with my unfinished readings, catching up with families, writing to old friends and living life; I begin my writing early in the morning with a cup of coffee by my side. So far, my element would be my own space where stacks of books surround me, and patches of essays and words on the wall greet me. Such days however, are sporadic, usually prompted after a long drive throughout the country or a passionate conversation with strangers. Although by nature I operate by structure and order, my creativity often seeks to unleash itself as it pleases, or perhaps, as it is inspired.

Therefore my beloved readers, as I affirmed to myself I need more adventures and unexpected turn of events (since my old sensible self is often too shy to let it roam free), I am now putting my creative attempts into a disciplined structure. Beginning with the letter, I will put together a portfolio of my essays narrating my life surrounding various topics; Self in Society, Nature and Environment, Culture Shock, Food for Thoughts, Film and Prints, and About Books. In between, my Reader’s Notebook will be filled with my notes and journals about books and essays I’ve read.

Thereupon I dearly hope you may expect a new essay every fortnight, with short notes and journals as the fillers. At any expense I expect your feedbacks and comments. For the present - I shall bid you adieu.

I am dear READERS,
You most obedient
humble Servant,
NURHIDAYATI ABD AZIZ