VSELVARATNAM or “kuchi rat” as we called him because of his small size, was my “line-up” partner during school assembly every Monday morning when we sang the Negaraku and recited the Rukun Negara.
In 1970, we were both in Form One and as Selvaratnam and I were the smallest sized in class, we automatically took the first two spots at the beginning of the line during assembly. I remember how comfortable we were with one another as his dark fingers intertwined with my light ones as we walked hand-in-hand to our classroom.
I had three close Malay classmates. They were Hamzah, Hamidi and Razif. Lanky and skinny Hamidi always won the 100-metre race and loved to come over to my house for after-school studies. For some reason, he found me and my house conducive for revision. Two Chinese friends who were close to me were Kai Shian and Foot Sang. I remember walking around the school with them just chatting about anything and everything.
This is why I am proud to be a Malaysian. I had the privilege of experiencing and appreciating the joys of a multiracial society. I have experienced the gentleness, the friendliness and the hospitality of the Malays, the big-heartedness, the tenacity and the simplicity of the Indians and the entrepreneurship, the resourcefulness and the generosity of the Chinese. From this melting pot of different races, Malaysia is one of the few countries where one can enjoy a variety of cuisine that are unsurpassed anywhere else in the world, and often, any time of the day or night.
Sophie, a young adult Malaysian, said: “Malaysians are so multilingual that they are the only people who can string a few languages in one sentence.” The example she quoted was: “Macha, you want to makan here or ta pau?” She’s right. You can hardly find a Malaysian who can speak only one language or dialect. At a wedding dinner last Sunday, I was surprised to sit next to a Malay chap who could speak Hakka to me, Hokkien to my wife and English as well.
One thing I know. We all love Malaysia. No matter where I go, I am a Malaysian at heart because this is where God has put me. I know I am not alone. Those who have emigrated and are now living all over the world still consider Malaysia their home. They may hate the politics here but they are proud to be Malaysians. They are proud that our durian is the king of all fruits and is the one fruit that will separate the boys from the men. They are proud that we have some of the most idyllic beaches and islands in the world. They are proud of our Twin Towers, Putrajaya and our ubiquitous shopping malls. They are proud of the orang utan, the proboscis monkey and the Rafflesia.
They are proud that Singapore wants to copy our best foods and make them theirs. They are proud that a Penangnite makes the best shoes in the world and famous Hollywood stars are knocking on his door. They are proud that tiny Malaysia can own two English football clubs. They are proud that Malaysians hold the top spots in badminton and squash.
Despite the many challenges we face in this nation, Malaysians continue to stamp their mark in the world stage. No matter where they fly home from, like me, many Malaysians still feel a deep sense of affection for our country and we just love to hear the flight stewardess say: “To all Malaysians, welcome home”.
I hope we will remember who we are. We are Malaysians and no matter where we live, work or play, Malaysia is our home. If we keep the vision of a transformed Malaysia in our hearts, it will come to pass because of our love, our prayers and our perseverance for Malaysia.
The writer, a senior pastor of New Life Restoration Centre, Petaling Jaya, was
born in the year Malaysia gained her
independence