Today, in Malaysia we are seeing three major worrying truths that if we do not curb, will brush all our youngsters into them – decreasing of stable lifestyle between spiritual, physical and mental needs, deterioration of moral values in humans irregardless of age and the capacity to act and react accordingly for the sake of social needs. I assume, this has got to do with unity among us. Melayu, Cina, India – is that all? Definitely not. This a story of me, the Melayu girl from KL who enrolled herself into a boarding school in Sarawak.

I was fifteen when I decided to go into boarding school. The belief that I had about my dad’s solat hajat was the one which ruined my first attempt to get into a boarding school in 1996, when I was twelve was just as clear and fresh as the day my dad told me that he had prayed solat hajat hoping I will not leave the house. He could have had his own reasons for his refusal but I too, had my own reasons to leave. I told myself (always) I am not to be dictated by anyone, so that could probably be the reason I wanted to leave. Moreover, last time I supposed to go Kolej Yayasan Saad (KYS) in Melaka as its first batch of enrollment together with Mazhar Mahathir (YES, Tun Dr M’s child!), so when I could not secure a place to the school, I retaliated even more. I worked hard to go out  of the house and by age of fifteen the mission came to rise again. And this time – I succeed.

There I was. Taking the benefit that there were not many students who will ask for a hostel, I applied. Along the time between my application and the reply, I had been thinking whether I was ready to have yet, another new funny school name: Sekolah Menengah Teknik Matang, Kuching. MATANG? What Matang? Ayooo…but after seeing the school, okay, I am all ready to go.

The school was so beautiful. The hostel was faaaarrrr from the school areas and you had to walk till you sweat before reaching the school compound. Nonetheless, everything was in the same compound. I told myself, I had to enjoy my choice. Well, I did but that was not as immediately as it should had been.

In the hostel, I began to realise that what was in my Sekolah Menengah Sungai Maong was not as what it was in this MATANG school. I really had to be matang (matured). By the night, I did not only have to stand the seniors, but there were also the struggle and lines to get into the toilet. The hostel was next to an unknown hutan distanced by a clear field. The seniors spoke languages that I do not even know. No, it was not the Bahasa Sarawak that was by then, common to me. It was something more strange than that. I had seniors with hair I did not know why it was like that, I had friends whom I wondered if I could even talk to them. That was real. And then, I began to realise that I had already got into the heart of Sarawak – the Sarawakians. Welcome on board, Syeri.

It was a long journey until I finally managed to know who was who and what their ethnicity was. I began to have a lot of Iban friends, which I found it great because I always feel that they are the true colours of Sarawak. Their dance, food – all to me were unique. The best and beautiful part was when we ate together. As I am typing this, I begin to have glassy eyes.

I remember eating in the hostel alone – thought I would be like that always. Somehow, a classmate of mine began to join me at my table. Soon, more of them joined and not long after, I realised that I was not alone and it was nothing wrong to eat with them. They ate the same food I had, after all. You see, how naive life is without experience.

For me to thinking of it again now, I think it is shameful if by certain age of life, we do not have this kind of experience. To call ourselves Malaysians for being multiracial, yet, if we still never experience things like this and take this as a normal life than a rare ocassion, then, we got a lot more to do with ourselves. Certainly there is not just Melayu, Cina, India that form Malaysia. We are more than that.

Of course we fought too. But we knew we should not get overboard. Once a Christian friend pulled my tudung (headcover) off making my head almost naked in the canteen. I went after her who did not run at all and blurted to her, “what if I pull your cross from your neck now, Jess? You will definitely feel I am insulting your religion!” Then comes Barbara from my back giving Jess her piece of mind in Iban but I totally understood Barbara did not want me to proceed with the act. We forgave and forgot the incident quickly after that. That was a strong lesson of life for me. At least I was grateful I did not take the action before my words, and I was grateful Barbara appeared.

So were there any Melayu in the hostel? Yes. They are now my friends for life. I have lost touch with all my other friends from the hostel, but none the less, I still remember a few names like Rahman, Rahimah, Nadia, Ismawati, Syful, Jonathan. Rahman is and Iban. So is Rahimah. Nadia is a girl from the Peninsular. When I enrolled into Universiti Industri Selangor, UNISEL (now Universiti Selangor), Nadia, who used to be my dorm-mate became my senior for the second time. Although we both studied Civil Engineering in Sekolah Teknik Matang, Nadia proceeded with Civil Engineering in UNISEL, whilst I turned to be more poetic, and as you can see now, have too much things to write, chose TESL. I hated the fact my mother said I should own a degree that I can earn with ease rather than a tough uncertain-to-manage, but thinking again today, I cannot actually let go of my urge to write. For the technical drawings I learned before, I keep it with the piles of my dad’s drawings.

Today, if you ask me again about Malaysia: Melayu, Cina, India – is that all? No, I’ll say. I have more to tell.