I am a "product" of mixed marriage. My father is of Hadhrami descent (although categorised as Malay in his IC) and my mother is a Malaysian Chinese. My mother was 39 when she married my father who was 11 years her junior. I always find it amazing how my mother had the courage to marry someone way younger and of a different religion too. Growing up in this household, I was exposed to the different cultures, traditions and celebrations from a very young age. Many of my friends would be jealous when I tell them that I receive ang pao, duit raya and sometimes receive Christmas presents as well as Deepavali money packets (my paternal uncle married an Indian, my maternal aunty is married to a British). I learnt how to use the chopsticks, went to pay my respects to my deceased family members every Qing Ming (Tomb Sweeping Day), picked up the Mandarin, Cantonese and Hakka language (to my Mother's surprise!) and did many other things that a typical Chinese kid would do or even more. My Malay/Hadhrami roots were not forgotten of course. I blended in well on both sides of the family although there were times when I had an "identity crisis" but as I grew older and more mature, I appreciated the fact that I was unique.
Little Liyana excited for Chinese New Year. That's my Poh Poh at the back
Arwah Ami Man, Ami Giant, Dad, me and Arwah Mummy
I grew up in Johor Bahru with a Chinese neighbour on the left and a Malay family on our right. In the evenings, all the kids would come out and play on the road, be it cycling, police and thief or pepsi cola. When my parents bought a desktop computer when I was 5, all the kids would come over and were thrilled by the fact that they could play computer games which they had limited access to at home. We would take turns to make our homes the Headquarters of the day, play masak masak, go to the nearby playground together or even cycle up Mount Austin (I remember how tiring that uphill battle was!). As I was growing up, I was given nicknames such as Malai kou (Malay kuih), and sometimes teased if I was adopted by my mother because I didn't look Chinese enough to them.
Me and Ah Jhin, my cycling buddy
My family moved to KL when I was 7 as my Mum had to seek treatment for breast cancer. We lived in Ampang where our neighbours were mostly foreigners. One of my neighbours was a Korean boy whose father was the national badminton doubles coach, Park Joo Bong. We used to go swimming, play badminton, and cycle around the nearby neighbourhood. He taught me a few Korean words that I remember until today : mani mogo meaning eat a lot and yogorutu which refers to Vitagen (this was way before the Kpop invasion). The other neighbours included a French couple who were very friendly, a Japanese gentleman who stayed above our apartment, a few of my mum's colleagues : Uncle Bob and wife, Aunty Laila, Uncle Hashim and his family. My best friend from school, Jehan stayed at the other end of Persiaran Ritchie which was a 5 minute walk from us so there would be times when I would go over for a swim or just to play with her and her sister, Erra.
Adjusted well into my new class, Primary 1B in Sekolah Sri Utama, KL thanks to my class teacher, Puan Mastura. On my right is Puteri Suraiya Afzan and on my left is Joel Christopher Beh.
With classmates during our school trip to Bukit Jalil
Hari Raya at Tok Pah's house in JB
I'd have to say that I had so much fun growing up back then. We had more freedom to go out with minimal supervision from our parents and we were not locked up in our homes playing iPads etc.
Merdeka to me is a beautiful reminder of the sacrifices made by our forefathers to achieve independence for our beloved country, Malaysia. It was the coming together of the people wanting a better future for themselves and the generations to come. We should appreciate this independence that we have and work harder to bring our country to greater heights. Happy Merdeka, fellow Malaysians!
