Different roots but one home

Visitors checking out Leong San Tong Kho Kongsi, Malaysia’s largest Hokkien clan house, in George Town, Penang. Malaysians have the advantage of growing up surrounded by different languages, cultures, traditions and communities. — Filepic

WHEN I was in Hong Kong, a local driver told me my Cantonese pronunciation was nearly flawless and sounded “authentic”.

I was quietly pleased.

Perhaps that is one of the unexpected advantages of growing up watching TVB series and Hong Kong movies. What started as entertainment became an informal lesson.

But I am not Cantonese. My family’s ancestral roots trace back to Lam Aun, a village in Fujian province, China. So I still speak that Hokkien dialect peculiar to the northern region, roughly from Taiping onwards.

Only later did I understand that our forefathers had come mostly from Zhangzhou in Fujian, while the Hokkiens in places like Klang, Johor and even Singapore are mostly from the Quanzhou branch.

My ancestral village is in Quanzhou, incidentally.

But then, the five great Penang Hokkien clan surnames – Khoo, Yeoh, Lim, Cheah and Tan – are from Zhangzhou.

So economic dominance might likely be why the Hokkien dialect in the north acquired a different lilt compared with other parts of Malaysia.

While I attended a Chinese vernacular school, I have never had much difficulty switching between languages like Bahasa Malaysia, English and Chinese.

When it comes to Bahasa Indonesia or Teochew, sometimes, I understand enough to follow what people are talking about. At other times, a few familiar words are enough to start a conversation.

To me, that is one of the advantages of being Malaysian.

We grow up surrounded by different languages, cultures, traditions and communities.

These differences never seem to divide us.

They become bridges, allowing us to understand, appreciate and connect with people beyond our own cultural backgrounds.

For me, speaking Hokkien, understanding Cantonese and communicating in Bahasa Malaysia, English and Mandarin are not competing identities.

It reminds me of what being Malaysian means: being comfortable with diversity while having a shared sense of belonging.

I remain guided by our common values and principles, including the Rukun Negara.

I easily tear up when I read stories about Malaysians of different ethnicities coming to one another’s aid during accidents, natural disasters, festivals or simply when someone is in need.

I feel a deep sense of pride when our athletes do well on the world stage, draped in the Jalur Gemilang as Negaraku is played.

These moments remind me that, our differences notwithstanding, there is a shared sense of patriotism that binds us.

But at times, it pains me when the word “pendatang” is used against some groups even when their ancestors were among those who helped make Malaysia what it is today.

It hurts when we are told that we have some other motherland elsewhere when, really, Malaysia is all we have.

Being Malaysian should not require us to erase our historical lineage, nor should our heritage be a reason to tell us we do not truly belong.

My life, memories and experiences were shaped here.

The languages I speak, the food I grew up with, the schools I attended, the friendships I made and the values I learned are all part of my Malaysian experience.

I believe we can acknowledge our different histories without constantly using them to question one another’s place in the country.

Our petty differences should not be walls that divide us.

And perhaps that is what being Malaysian means: knowing where we came from, appreciating what makes us different and still sharing this home.

Happy Malaysia Day!