By Fanny Bucheli
Malaysia is a beautiful country, a so-called anchor-destination for expatriate families. Regional job responsibilities see many foreign professionals at the airport more often than in their own car porch, which leaves the spouses and children to make Kuala Lumpur and its suburbs their long term home away from home.
My husband and I moved to Malaysia 16 years ago, with the firm intention of staying at least three years. So much for planning ahead. I am a firm believer of showing my guest country the respect it deserves by learning about its local customs, buying local art and practicing the native language. Everyone is thrilled to hear how I have made their home my own for the last decade and a half. Everyone nods in anticipation when they ask, or rather confirm, I should say, that, of course, I must be fluent in Bahasa Melayu by now. And I hang my head in utter shame. Saya tidak bercakap bahasa. I do my best to stay motivated in my learning, though.
Every week I take my husband’s shirts to the neighbourhood dry cleaner’s. And every week without fail, the dobi lady heckles in good humoured amusement as she refuses to accept my business unless I can tell her in Bahasa Melayu how many shirts I bring. Oh for heavens’ sake, why didn’t I bring fifteen shirts, I know how to say lima belas!
I did take the beginner’s class for adults, you must know. I have the folder to prove it. Lesson number one: Makanan, we learned all there is to know about food and how to order it. Lesson two: Minuman, you see, the right priorities were well established. Greetings and numbers and roadsigns were duly rehearsed as well.
But since the proof of the pudding is in the eating I decided to have a go at it at my local coffee shop, as a final exam, so to speak. Mind you, I did not just walk up to the counter unprepared. I had studied and reviewed the whole thing. With a mixture of nerves, excitement and pride all playing Sepak Takraw in my stomach, I took a deep breath, I put on my brightest smile and I gathered all my courage. “Selamat pagi. Minta maaf, saya hendak minum kopi susu, tak nak gula. Terima kasih.” I grin in unabashed delight as the barista grins back, and then shakes his head. “So sorry, ma’m. I don’t understand, I’m from Bangladesh.”
Fanny Bucheli is an FMT columnist.
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