BEAUTIFUL SIDE OF SOMEWHERE
....early morning start, possible caffeine overdose....
"So, when are you flying back?"
Now, this is the typical year end question I may acquire (even from strangers who eventually qualify to be my new found friend who discovered how many cats I have and what exotic dish I may want to tell about) over the years since I started living in the other part of the country where going 'home' requires a 2-hour flight across South China Sea, trying my best to ignore the sound of wailing babies while on the flight and praying that the stranger sitting beside me won't attempt to start a (boring) conversation. These and anticipating a smooth check out without the loss of any precious luggage (tis the season to be jolly, so am not about to lose any prezzies I spent weeks wrecking my brains hunting for them...last minute Christmas shopping drives me nuts).
Back to that little conversation I was talking about. Today I made my way to the hair salon. Fortunately, although my regular stylist was on leave, a colleague graciously offered his services. His assistant (a.k.a the shampoo girl) shortly appeared and I remember I was going thorugh the 'Best Of' List in Her World magazine when I thought I heard a voice behind me. I was sure it was the shampoo girl, so I just glanced in the mirror. Sure enough, she was waiting for an answer from me, just that I couldn't understand cause she was speaking Chinese. I cheesily smiled, hoping that she would figure it out but she quickly asked the same question again (I knew it.....).
I explained to her that I'm not Chinese.
"Oh, Malay?"
(Here we go again).
"Not Chinese, not Malay."
By now, she looked confused.
Until I told her that I'm a native from East Malaysia that she gave an approving nod.
"I see. You look so much like a Chinese".
Yup. That I very well know. After countless uncomfortable first time encounters telling what I am not.
But it all boils down to one fact:
I'm of Bidayuh/Iban descent. I come from a land where warriors once ruled. My ancestors were the legendary headhunters. I'm proud of my roots. I'm happy that I still have the chance to experience life in a long house in this modern time. I'm especially proud of where we are now.
Although some of us Malaysians may need to learn and understand more about each other, to look beyond the surface, be more open, the nation has gone a long way (as cliche that may sound).
Right now, I'm guessing that the shampoo girl was just wondering what business I have at the mall when it's jam-packed with the pre-Christmas weekend crowd when I'm not really there for shopping. Well my dear, a good hair cut is just one last thing I need to do before flying home.
At least if the guy on the next seat is cute, I'd look presentable, no?
....early morning start, possible caffeine overdose....
"So, when are you flying back?"
Now, this is the typical year end question I may acquire (even from strangers who eventually qualify to be my new found friend who discovered how many cats I have and what exotic dish I may want to tell about) over the years since I started living in the other part of the country where going 'home' requires a 2-hour flight across South China Sea, trying my best to ignore the sound of wailing babies while on the flight and praying that the stranger sitting beside me won't attempt to start a (boring) conversation. These and anticipating a smooth check out without the loss of any precious luggage (tis the season to be jolly, so am not about to lose any prezzies I spent weeks wrecking my brains hunting for them...last minute Christmas shopping drives me nuts).
Back to that little conversation I was talking about. Today I made my way to the hair salon. Fortunately, although my regular stylist was on leave, a colleague graciously offered his services. His assistant (a.k.a the shampoo girl) shortly appeared and I remember I was going thorugh the 'Best Of' List in Her World magazine when I thought I heard a voice behind me. I was sure it was the shampoo girl, so I just glanced in the mirror. Sure enough, she was waiting for an answer from me, just that I couldn't understand cause she was speaking Chinese. I cheesily smiled, hoping that she would figure it out but she quickly asked the same question again (I knew it.....).
I explained to her that I'm not Chinese.
"Oh, Malay?"
(Here we go again).
"Not Chinese, not Malay."
By now, she looked confused.
Until I told her that I'm a native from East Malaysia that she gave an approving nod.
"I see. You look so much like a Chinese".
Yup. That I very well know. After countless uncomfortable first time encounters telling what I am not.
But it all boils down to one fact:
I'm of Bidayuh/Iban descent. I come from a land where warriors once ruled. My ancestors were the legendary headhunters. I'm proud of my roots. I'm happy that I still have the chance to experience life in a long house in this modern time. I'm especially proud of where we are now.
Although some of us Malaysians may need to learn and understand more about each other, to look beyond the surface, be more open, the nation has gone a long way (as cliche that may sound).
Right now, I'm guessing that the shampoo girl was just wondering what business I have at the mall when it's jam-packed with the pre-Christmas weekend crowd when I'm not really there for shopping. Well my dear, a good hair cut is just one last thing I need to do before flying home.
At least if the guy on the next seat is cute, I'd look presentable, no?
1 comment:
Hehehehe...
Betul!!!
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