I am not a 'pendatang'

“It’s a fact. You are a pendatang. The British brought in people of your kind from the lowest caste to work in the estates. It’s a historical fact. Don’t try to manipulate facts.”

Someone wrote the above comment following a statement by an Indian minister claiming that the Indians in Malaysia are not pendatang (immigrants).

However, he received a backlash from society, some of whom happily reminded the minister and his fellow Indians of their place in the society, giving them a short crash course in history.

Reading the comment as well as many other comments of a similar wavelength, I found myself dumbfounded.

You see, while the minister and his haters were busy determining who are pendatang and who aren’t, I, an Indian by parentage, spent my whole week talking to my children about their own personal growth and how important it is to develop their skills and talent in order to contribute to the country.

While many over the past week advised others never to mess with the historical facts which place certain people above the rest, I was busy advising my children about staying clear on their purpose in life – that a life spent on contributing to the wellness of others around us is a life worth living for.

And while many got stuck in the discussion about where one's ancestors came from, I told my children that no matter where their fate takes them, their feet should always find the way back to Malaysia, because this is home.

A history check

Truth be told, while I plant my feet and that of my children firmly into this Malaysian soil, it pains me to see others labelling me and my children as weeds.

My ancestors were pendatang. That’s a fact I will never refute. Though they were not brought in by the British to work in estates like most Indians in Malaysia, my ancestors were still pendatang who left their homeland with small suitcases in search of a better future for themselves and their family.

But having ancestors who are pendatang doesn’t make me one.

My ancestors originated from a small village called Kadayanallur in Tamil Nadu, India. They were cotton weavers who raised their children to be cotton weavers too. Their struggle against poverty was a day-to-day affair which left them focused on their own rice pots and never about the land which they called home.

Even when my ancestors built a new life in Malaya, their focus was still the same - to improve their own lives and the lives of their family through the small businesses they embarked upon – selling spices, food and stationeries by the streets.

The progress of the land they occupied was immaterial to them. Be it India or Malaya, it made no difference to them. The only thing that mattered to my ancestors was their livelihoods.

Self-reflection

I reflect on myself today and I see no resemblance to my ancestors. Despite having a soft spot for Indian curry and Ranbir Kapoor, I am thoroughly a Malaysian.

Unlike my ancestors who were Indian nationals but had no special bonds with their motherland, I am a Malaysian who is absolutely in love with my home country. I take pride in building a future for me and my family in this land we call home.

I did not abandon my home in times of struggle as did my ancestors and many other Malaysians. I did not send my children to a foreign land for education, advising them never to return here, like many have. And never have I tarnished my country by comparing it with one of the First World nations like many Malaysians residing abroad have.

I have stood by Malaysia in good times and in bad; for better or for worse. And I shall continue to do so because this is home to me.

Sadly, while I teach my children to love our country and treat our friends of different races and religions as our own family units, some people are teaching their children to safeguard their own race, religion, language and privilege.

It is so unfortunate that while I teach my children to share whatever we have, even when we have so little to share, some people are teaching their children to hold on to what they have, that sharing is akin to losing their rights.

Clearly, one need not be a pendatang to be trapped in a pendatang mindset. These are the people, like my own ancestors, who stick with their own kind and think of no one else but themselves.

While I remain hopeful that one day we can accept one another and all as our Malaysian brothers and sisters without the need to label anyone as a pendatang, I reckon that it is not going to be an easy road.

After all, different people grow at different rates. Some with better education and exposure grow faster compared to the rest.

But for what it’s worth, knowing that I am a solid Malaysian and not a pendatang is good enough for me. I do not need anyone’s validation of my status.

I don’t think any of us do.

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FA ABDUL is a passionate storyteller, a growing media trainer, an aspiring playwright, a regular director, a struggling producer, a self-acclaimed photographer, an expert Facebooker, a lazy blogger, a part-time queen and a full-time vainpot. - Mkini