I dream of ‘balik Tongsan’

Sometimes no matter what hurtful things people say, the only thing that matters is how one truly feels about being Malaysian.

COMMENT

“I had a dream,” said a lady at a Kopitiam in Desa Sri Hartamas, a table away from mine. “I dreamt of being asked to leave Malaysia.”

“By whom?” a man seated next to her asked.

“By people on the street – I was walking alone and there were people coming towards me and each of them asked me to ‘balik Tongsan’,” she clarified.

The man laughed, almost spurting out his drink.

“I am serious, dear!” she held his hand.

“Sorry, it’s just too funny,” he said wiping his chin, “I think you are reading too much news”.

“Maybe,” she answered in short while continuing to chew her food.

“What did you answer in return?” Clearly he was eager to know the continuation of the story.

As I sipped my Nescafe O pretending not to listen, I too waited in anticipation for her to resume the story.

“I said it isn’t easy to balik Tongsan – I would have to renew my passport and apply for a visa. In case you didn’t notice, I am a citizen of Malaysia, so I can’t easily balik Tongsan – unlike you who can easily balik Indon whenever you wish.”

Her companion burst out laughing while I had to cover my smile with the mug of Nescafe O.

“I also told them that I paid for the road they were standing on. If they studied in public school, I paid for their education. And if they were a government servant, I paid for their salaries too.”

“I told them, if their people didn’t like having my people around, their ruler should have not worked with Yap Ah Loy back in those days to develop the economy. After enjoying my peoples’ hard work all these years, I asked them why only now they want me to balik Tongsan?” the middle aged woman seem all fired up.

“Relax dear, it’s just a dream,” said the man.

“I know. But still…,” the woman went silent for a while before continuing.

“Lately I see many comments on Facebook saying we should thank them for allowing us to stay. The truth is, if our people did not agree to form the Alliance under Tunku, we might not have gained independence in 1957. By right, don’t you think they should thank us too, Joe?”

“They should thank you, not me,” said Joe, confirming my suspicion that he was an Indonesian. “You are actually more Malaysian than some of them. Did you know that Tan Cheng Lock who fought for Merdeka alongside Tunku was a fifth-generation Chinese in Malaysia? Even your ancestors have lived here longer compared to some of their leaders whose own parents were born in my country.”

I smiled. So did the woman. I guess we both knew who he was talking about.

“Sometimes I think it will be easier to migrate. We can join my sisters in Canada and Australia. Many of my friends are also settling overseas, dear.”

Joe took a deep breath and said, “Look at me. I left my family and came all the way to KL to work. Over here I have a good job, good friends and I have you – but I still miss home. Nothing can take the place of our home-lah, lou poh.”

There was silence for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter what others say. It is how you feel about your country.”

She nodded silently.

And so did I.