KUALA LUMPUR, Sept 16 — I was born exactly 20 years and one month after a very important date in my beloved state’s history – the date of our independence from the British. We were a sovereign state for 55 days before entering into the agreement to form the nation of Malaysia, along with North Borneo (now Sabah) and Singapore on the 16th of September, 1963. We spent a mere 55 days on our own, followed by 50 years of being a part of Malaysia.
Why is it then that so many of my compatriots identify far more strongly with being Sarawakian than they do with being Malaysian? This year, more so than any other previously, I’ve seen my friends lamenting about the state of our state.
Many of our people are poor, corruption is rife, the land itself is not being given the protection it deserves. Many of us have left Sarawak to pursue careers in Peninsular Malaysia. For most of us, it was not a question of wanting to leave: we did it because we could not find jobs that we had trained and studied for in Sarawak. We left it because we had to.
We want to go home.
Despite the political and economic situations – or, to borrow a phrase from a fellow Sarawakian, the “perception” of the political and economic situations – there is much to love about Sarawak. The people are more relaxed and are often genuinely happy to see foreigners (that includes those of you from Peninsular Malaysia!).
The food is really, really good, and best of all it is not racially segregated – you can have your roti canai with your kolok mee with a side of satay, no problem. The air feels clearer and the sky is a brilliant shade of blue. These are the superficial things that I love about my state.
On a deeper level, I love the way Sarawakians are just so, well, Sarawakian. One of the things that is often touted about Sarawak is how her people are a diverse mélange of different racial groups, each with its own distinct language, culture and way of life.
Long before 1Malaysia was even thought of, we made it work. Most importantly, we made it work without any talk of assimilation – each of my friends from different races still identify themselves as being Iban, Bidayuh, Chinese, Melanau, Malay, Lun Bawang, Kelabit or whatever other race they are descended from.
Identifying ourselves by our different races did not divide us. We all still consider ourselves Sarawakian. This is our greatest strength, but it can also be viewed as our greatest failing.
Fifty years after forming the nation, so many Sarawakians – so many Malaysians – don’t even have access to basic needs.” – Azreen
When I first moved to Kuala Lumpur, I had not expected to be quite so shocked by how different things were. Racism on this side of the country feels so much more palpable than it ever was in Sarawak – relations between races seem so tense and confrontational, and there seems to be so much more resentment between the three main races.
As someone who had grown up surrounded by people of different races, as someone who had never been taught to believe that any race could be considered superior or inferior, it was something I could not understand… and yet to my friends who grew up in Peninsular Malaysia, this was what they had grown up with and been accustomed to.
I have Peninsular Malaysian friends who pointedly call themselves “Malaysian” when asked about their race, but still find it acceptable to make intensely hateful remarks about people simply based on their race. Is that what being Malaysian means?
Another shocker was just how little people in Peninsular Malaysia knew and cared about East Malaysia. I’ve heard so many ignorant things about Sarawak since coming here – from the innocent “Kuching tu ibu negeri Sabah, kan?” to the more insulting “It must be great for you here, with 24-hour electricity and running water.”
Many of my Peninsular Malaysian friends viewed the gazetting of the 16th of September as a national public holiday to be superfluous, whereas for my East Malaysian friends it was a triumph and a long-awaited acknowledgement of our states as being equal to the states of the nation formerly known as Malaya. Personally, it gave me hope that perhaps the federal government would take a more active role in developing Sarawak in line with the rest of the country. It is a very naïve way of thinking, because really, we should all be in this nation-building thing together, right?
We should. But even after 50 years of being a nation, there is still such a divide between Peninsular Malaysia and East Malaysia. It is a divide that I feel should not exist, but also one that I feel I have no choice but to contribute to by fiercely asserting my identity as a Sarawakian.
As a Sarawakian, I cannot deny that I feel as though our state has been pillaged. It is often hard to sympathise with Peninsular Malaysians who complain about the cost of living when so many people in my state are living well below the poverty line. Each time I take the KLIA Express or drive on the highway after a trip back home, I can’t help but wonder how unfair it is that children in the interiors of Sarawak have to travel for hours and possibly put their lives in danger just to get to school each morning.
It honestly does hurt me to think of how so many Sarawakians could not have the kind of opportunities that I and my friends had, simply because they were born into a situation where even surviving is difficult, let alone thriving, while we were lucky enough to be born in towns and cities.
We are a state rich in natural resources. Why is that not reflected in the lives of all our people? Fifty years after forming the nation, so many Sarawakians – so many Malaysians – don’t even have access to basic needs. In a nation that boasts about the Petronas Twin Towers, the Sepang F1 Circuit and the 4th largest shopping mall in the world, how is that fair?
Under the Brookes, the Kingdom of Sarawak had a motto: “Dum spiro, spero”, meaning “As I breathe, I hope.” It is a motto I believe my fellow Sarawakians still live by. While many of us are unhappy with the way things are, it is a sentiment that we know is shared by other Malaysians.
Malaysia has accomplished much in 50 years. Let us all, as one nation – regardless of state, race, religion and political affiliation – hope and strive for a brighter future for all of us.
Happy birthday, Malaysia. Dum spiro, spero.
Azreen is a Melanau Sarawakian from Kuching, currently working as a copywriter in the Klang Valley. She drives a humble Myvi and yearns to be a Jaeger pilot. Her favourite word is "moist". You can find her on Twitter @tsundayrae.
