I am a Malaysian Human. Whatever that means...

If I was born and bred in Nigeria, I would be a proud Nigerian. If I was born and bred on some remote hilltop village which is located only by trekking for 8 hours and climbing treacherous mountainous regions located in Borneo, I would be proud to be a, um, village person from Borneo. If I was half Jamaican and half Japanese (Jamainese? Japacan?) but bred in Scotland, I would be a proud Scot.

But I was born in Malaysia. I was bred in Malaysia. And I’m not sure if I’m proud to be a Malaysian. Or a human, for that matter. But that’s really a whole different kettle of fish altogether…

Over the years, I have had the “not bothered” attitude when it comes to my nationality. To me, I’m in Malaysia and there’s no point in me doing patriotic things. Like attaching detachable flags on my car. Or jumping off a building wearing the national colours. I’ve never stuck the country’s flag on my car. I’ve never worn a t-shirt bearing the Malaysian flag nor do my handkerchiefs bear the distinctive colours. Heck, I don’t even remember the words to the national anthem, Negaraku. (I will surely be hunted down and killed and have my entrails on pikes after this. Mark my words.). I just know that I’m in a country that is both distinctive and every so often exasperating. I won’t do that and I don’t see myself doing it in the foreseeable future.

I won’t lie and say that I’ve never made a racist remark myself. When I was growing up, I was subjected to, at times, really disparaging remarks about my skin, my eyes, and heck, even my very existence. Never accuse me of being a racist. I hate everyone equally.

Racial harmony? Never heard of it.

It has been said that with the country’s current political situation and other whatnots, a number of people have talked about immigration in order to escape. Escape from what exactly, I’m not sure. I have heard of people citing reasons such as the many hiccups in the judiciary system, the lack of unity among the races, our RM5.68 (!!!11LOL11!!!OMG) cup of Americano coffee as catalysts to jump ship. I for one wouldn’t mind working in another country. In fact, I don’t mind if I had to work in another country for the rest of my work-able life, but when my bones start to ache and I develop a belly the size of a small manatee, I would love to come back, and ultimately, finally settle down.

I may hate it from time to time (which right-thinking Malaysian doesn’t?), the people, the road, cashiers, contractors, salespeople, but home is where the heart is. You can call me unpatriotic. I just call it as it is. Today, the country celebrates its 50^th year of independence. I, on the other hand, will celebrate my “freedom” on the 3^rd of next month. Now, that’s more meaningful to me.

Happy 50^th Birthday, Malaysia.

Here’s to another (un)glorious 50.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Exam is next Monday. Wish me luck, guys and gal. I’ll bring them with me.