Its just like human beings to be so easily deceived by their what they see - the skin of a China-man, therefore he must be Chinese. When they meet exceptions like me, i become an object of curiousity.
Its been a very long time since i've been aware of the colour of my skin. Because i'm used to it, its easy to brush aside the curious stares, the questions and the amazement i've seen in the eyes of people when they find out that i'm a Malay.
But today was different. One of my trainees, a 60-something year old man, was rude to me. Without giving me a chance to explain, he blasted me in an unkind manner in front of the other trainees why all the forms i've provided for them are in English, and not Bahasa Malaysia.
(Translated from BM) "We've been independent for 46 years. Why are we still using the language of the colonialists? Huh, young man, can you tell me why?"
I've been doing this for a while, i've personally trained hundreds. This is the first time this has happened. I've had to explain why the forms are in English before, but not under such obviously rude circumstances. I was stunned. I stuttered for a moment, and though i provided an apology and an excuse, i don't think i recovered very well.
I go through the motions. I introduce myself. The moment i say my name, this same man looks at me strange and another lady asks whether i'm Malay. I say i am and explain my personal background.
The man speaks up again, in an very different, more friendly tone, (translated) "Oh, i'm sorry. I didn't know we were of the same bangsa Melayu (Malay race). I wouldn't have said those things to you otherwise."
I tried to remain composed, but inside i was reeling from the affront, from the obvious racism, and from the embarrassment. A few of the other trainees were Chinese. They had heard it all.
Indeed, dear uncle. We have been independent for the last four decades. I would have thought you would have learned something about being a Malaysian since then.
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