Leaving Malaysia

If I had known what this year would entail, I probably wouldn’t have taken the grant. I’ll be the first to admit that the last ten months have not been a picnic. Since the day I first arrived, it’s been unbearably hot and humid. I’ve found far too many ants in my food. My English is now riddled with mistakes galore.

I’ve discovered a range of emotions that I didn’t know I had the capacity for — who knew I could cry from deep-seated frustration and utter jubilance in the same day? One of the most difficult facets of my experience in Malaysia, though, was gaining an understanding of my limits.

I came to Malaysia thinking that I would be able to assimilate to the culture and experience what it truly felt like to be part of another country’s society. In March, I had a difficult time accepting aspects of the culture. In June, I thought that I was close to being accepted in the community and establishing a sense of normalcy.

By August, though, I realized that my aspirations were simply intangible. This world that surrounded me — with its the foreign language, devout religious culture, and love of native foods that I could not seem to stomach — was not one that I ever felt fully comfortable in. I came as an outsider, and as much as I tried, I remained that way.

Nevertheless, I would not exchange this year for the world.

I spent weekends road-tripping across Malaysia and visited 10 of its 14 picturesque states. I rode bareback on an elephant in Thailand, explored the ancient Buddhist pagodas in Myanmar, and took in the light-encrusted skyline in Singapore. I trekked in Laos, biked through the breath-taking Angkor Wat temples in Cambodia, and consumed my fair share of sushi in Japan. Adventure is why I came to this country, and adventure is what I got.

I also gained a deeper understanding of how deeply Islam is embedded in the Malaysian culture. The call to prayer blares through loudspeakers from the local mosque, echoing through the village five times a day. Students in public and religious schools are expected to participate in Islamic recitations before every class. During Ramadhan, all restaurants and food stalls are closed during the day because the entire country is fasting.

Often, extreme religion is considered a faux-pas in America, but living in this environment allowed me to appreciate what it truly means to be fully devoted to a religion. The work that is required to remain faithful to Islam — including but not limited to month-long fasts, daily visits to the mosque, routine prayers, halal-only diets, and dutiful confidence in Allah — is something to be admired and respected.

I was fortunate enough to be accepted into various communities, all of which were kind, generous and comforting. My walks to work were peppered with friendly, familiar smiles and offers of motorbike rides. Women at the local market went out of their way to communicate with me in English and provide me with discounts on my weekly haul of fresh fruits and vegetables.

Random passersby, recognizing that I was an outsider, stopped to chat and almost always invited me back to their homes for a meal. Ladies at school shared secrets, delicious treats and wisdom with me, treating me as a friend. In many ways, Malaysia welcomed me with open arms, and I will always be thankful for the kindness of these strangers and friends.

The highlight of my experience as an English Teaching Assistant, by far, was my students. It was my role over the year to teach them English, and although I tried with limited success to do so, my true focus was on programs to teach them larger life lessons.  

I hope that when my students think of this year, they remember the hands-on lessons that we did in class — the egg drops, the dramatic skits, musical chairs, Simon says, and so — and walk away with the mentality that English is fun. I hope that they recall how I tried so hard to say, “Hi, how are you?” to everyone in the halls and perceive Americans as friendly, open people.

I hope that my girls remember the weekend-long, statewide Girl Power English Camp that I put on for 120 students across 15 schools and grow to become brave women who pursue their dreams and passions. I hope that my students take advantage of the English library I left for them, complete with over 100 children’s books, and discover the magical world of reading. I hope they remember me, and I truly hope that in some way — large or small — I positively impacted their year.

These 600 children, ranging from 11 to 17, allowed me into their lives. Shy children who once hid behind corners when they saw me turned into brave, conversational English speakers. Although they still struggled and searched for words, they no longer worried about speaking English perfectly. Instead, they wanted to share a little part of themselves — their interests, worries, dreams and aspirations with me. They allowed me to become their friend.

And that is what made my experience truly special. I got to make Anis laugh until she keeled over on the ground crying. I got to talk openly to Amar about Judaism and the war between Palestine and Israel. I got to spend time with Ukasyah, Haifz, Salam and Afiq and learn about their favorite singers and comic books. I got to console Citi about her parents’ recent divorce. I got to teach Liyana, Izzah and Ain what it means to brave, confident girl. I got to watch Fakril’s face light up as he discovered his interest in engineering through a paper-tower competition. These students provided me with so many lessons, belly-aching laughs, genuine face-breaking smiles, and sweet, sweet memories.

In many ways, I have built a life for myself in Malaysia. While it is not one that I am willing to live for another year, it certainly is bittersweet tearing myself away from the roots I have created here. What an amazing roller coaster of an adventure it’s been.