Nothing beats home: Travelling all around the world and experiences abroad have only made the writer love Malaysia more than ever. — 123rf
EVERY time I return to Malaysia from a trip abroad, there is a moment that gets to me: when the Malaysia Airlines crew member announces that we will be landing soon.
I have lost count of the number of times I have heard this but it still remains special to me.
“To all Malaysians, welcome home.” That is so beautiful because nothing beats returning to Malaysia. Our only home, where we were born, grew up, stay, and will finally pass on.
After decades of travelling and watching Malaysia change, those words carry a different weight.
“Welcome home” is not merely an announcement. It is an emotion. It is a reminder that no matter how far I travel, there is a place that still feels like mine: Malaysia.
At the age of 65, those words mean more to me than they ever did before. Perhaps it is because age changes the way we see home.
Not many people have travelled to over 60 countries. I have done it for work or for holidays.
I have arrived at some of the world’s greatest airports and experienced the efficiency and sophistication of other nations – and also seen many developed nations declining sharply in recent years.
There is no need to mention names but many readers will know what countries I am referring to.
But there is something different about returning to Malaysia. We have done so much better than many countries, something many of us may not be aware of.
Still, we are notorious for running down our own country.
These travels and experiences have made me love Malaysia more than ever. The grass is always greener on the other side but for all its many blemishes, nothing beats home.
I know of so many Malaysians who, disappointed with the political climate, decided to pack off to Australia, only to return home and spend most of their time here. They only go back to Australia occasionally to fulfil their residency visa requirements.
Wisely, they never gave up their Malaysian citizenship.
Then there are those who have emigrated but are still seemingly obsessed with political developments in Malaysia, and post daily comments.
The reality is, once you have given up on Malaysia, you have also lost your right to comment on Malaysia. After all, you have now adopted a new home by taking up a new citizenship.
When I was younger, coming home was simply returning after a trip.
It meant getting off the plane, collecting my luggage, and heading through the familiar airport doors with humid air blasting against my face.
Now I have learnt to stop complaining about Malaysia Airport Holdings Berhad for the regular breakdowns of our aerotrains at KL International Airport and why luggage with priority tags never arrive ahead of other bags.
This country, for all its imperfections – with its many politicians who make no sense, and steal from public coffers despite claiming to defend their race and religion – remains beautiful to us.
When we created a record for having three former prime ministers in court on the same day, I only see that justice is taking its course in Malaysia and that our judiciary is trustworthy.
As Malaysia Day approaches on Sept 16, I find myself thinking about those words on the plane more deeply: “Welcome home.”
What does it actually mean to come home? The sight and smell of the Malaysian food which you would rush to eat once you reach home? The sound of Bahasa Malaysia mixed with Mandarin, Tamil, English, Iban, Kadazan, and so many other languages?
Or is home something much more personal?
For me, it is all of these things.
Perhaps it is because I have spent 65 years accumulating memories here.
This is where my childhood memories were formed. This is where I grew up.
This is where I watched Malaysia transform from a relatively young nation into the modern country it is today.
I remember a Malaysia with fewer highways, the trunk roads, the overnight Keretapi Tanah Melayu trip home to Penang, the black and white TV with only two channels, a handful of tall buildings and much less traffic.
There was no Internet, no social media and no smartphone in our pockets. We met friends in person rather than through a screen. We actually had to wait until the next day to read about yesterday’s news!
And somehow, despite having much less technology, life seemed to give us more time to know one another.
Malaysia was already diverse then. We did not need a slogan to tell us that.
We saw it in our schools, neighbourhoods, markets and coffee shops.
We ate each other’s food, we slept over at friends’ homes, we celebrated one another’s festivals.
We learned words from different languages. We grew up understanding that the person sitting beside us might not look like us, pray like us, or speak the same language at home – but he or she was still Malaysian.
Perhaps that is why the words “welcome home” resonate so strongly with me today because home is not just a place.
It is a collection of people, memories, smells, sounds, food, conversations, and experiences and Malaysia has given me a lifetime of them.
Perhaps these ordinary moments are what make a nation. We often talk about Malaysia in terms of politics, economics, development, and statistics.
Those things matter but there is another Malaysia that cannot be measured so easily. It is the Malaysia that lives in our hearts. It is the Malaysia we miss when we are overseas.
And sometimes, it takes a flight home to make us realise how much we miss it.
That is why the Malaysia Airlines announcement has become so meaningful to me.
The national carrier has long positioned its service around “Malaysian Hospitality”, and has even used multilingual onboard announcements to showcase the country’s cultural diversity.
But for me, the most powerful words are still the simplest: Welcome home.
Finally, Malaysia would not be our home without Sabah and Sarawak. They did not join Malaysia but helped to form Malaysia; never ever forget that.
