Heritage

I am a Malaysian. I am Chinese. Just these two facts alone are enough confuse anybody who doesn't originate from South-East Asia.

"What?! You're Chinese? You're Malaysian? How can that be? Chinese are from China, Malays are from Malaysian. You can't be both!" exclaims a student from Belgium.

"Why not? My grandparents came from China to Malaysia in the early part of  20th Century. They married, and gave birth to my parents, who gave birth to me." I explained.

"So, you're a Malay! Your mum's Malay? Your dad's Malay?" the student summarizes and continues quizzing me.

"No! No! I'm not! I'm Chinese! I'm a Malaysian-Chinese! My mum's Chinese, my Dad's Chinese. I am Chinese." I insist.

To the eyes of the outside world, almost all countries have a one ethnic group per country policy, especially in China and Russia (I think).

Indeed, even as a child, I lived in a borderless world of my own. I never felt as if I belonged to a specific country. I studied history, but I could never related to it. I studied it because I had to pass my exams. Not because I wanted to understand my roots or my ancestors. This was, after all, where my ancestors chose to settle down. Not me. If I had a choice, I would choose to live in a cool country with four seasons, next to a gurgling river in spring and snowy mountains in winter. and of course, pluck mushrooms for dinner, make flower garlands to crown my imaginary long, black hair.

This, I suppose, are just one of the many impacts of being migrant children. A sense of lost identity, as if there are many lose ends which are just waiting to be tied.

As we tour Moscow, my Russian friends regale me with the historical events of Russia , from the reign of Tsar, Alexander the 1st, Alexander the Second, Stalin, Lenin, Putin, I am deeply impressed. They tell me these stories from their hearts. They are not merely reciting what they learnt from school or their teachers. They honestly believe it, and truly appreciate contribution of these leaders. The most amazing thing is they tell it with so much pride! Their faces beam as they speak about the achievements of their leaders, the legacy they have left behind, and their eyes glisten as they speak of the demise or  asasination of leaders.

After four days, my friend decided to quiz me unexpectedly. "So, Jean! When did the Russian revolution occur? Who was the leader of this revolution? When did Soviet Union breakup and when was Russia formed?"

I stutter. I mutter. "Umm.. is it Lenin? Stalin?"

My friend is exasperated. "Jean! You've listened to me, and K talking about the history of Russia for four days! You don't even know?! How could you? Tell me! Who is Lenin? What did he do for the country? Who is Stalin?" She bombards me with questions like the cannons from Kremlin Square.

My heart skips three beats. It thumps, twice. Then, it leaps off the cliff. "An autocratic leader? The leader of a revolution?"

"Aaaargh!!!!"  My friend had to literally tie both of her hands to her back to prevent herself from strangling me. I felt like a chicken awaiting its fate at the slaughterhouse.

"After four days! Did you even listen to what we explained?!" She exclaims.

I squirm uneasily, even though I am standing. I do not speak of the history of Malaysia with as much enthusiasm as them, much less, the history of China. I am hopeless.

During a visit to the Russian national state museum, we see a group of school girls in red vested uniforms and braided hair,  listening to the explanation of the museum guide on Russian history. And I thought, "Wow! These children are so lucky!"

My friend, as if reading my thoughts, catches me and throws me a question yet again, "Don't you have these excursions when you were young? If you didn't, how would you understand history? How would you relate to it? How would you even feel or understand history?"

Probably because of my missing tours to museums when I was a child, I thus do not appreciate history very much. I gave a random, lame excuse. "Ohh! Probably it is because I stayed in a small little village, far from the city. Thus, I did not have many opportunities to visit museums."

Honestly, I only began to love history when I visited the underground Dubai museum, with wax figures enacting scenes of the past, transported back through time, from the era when pearl diving was a lucrative business until oil and gas exploitation became the next big hit of the country. I was even more amazed when I visited the London museum only to discover that the Louvre in Paris existed since the 18th/19th Century! The artist even drew a picture of it in winter and summer seasons! My! My! I didn't know museums existed even then! I thought museums were a thing of the 20th century.

My friend's curiousity piqued. "How about classical music? How are you able to differentiate between compositions of Chopin, Bach, Mozart and Brahms?"

"I don't." I reply. "All I know is Chopin is a pianist and he's from the Romantic period. Mozart is into string instruments and he's from the ... period."

"But you do know their famous pieces, right? The Four Seasons by Vivaldi, Nocturne by Chopin..." And she rapidly fires off a few other famous compositions by renowned composers).

"Well, I know some. But not all. I know the tune if I heard them. But not the title of these compositions." I reply. Rather unconvincingly, I might add. After all, I had to study these pieces because my piano teacher painstakingly made sure that I could differentiate and play piano pieces as accurately as possible, as denoted on the printed music scores. I played not from my heart, but as depicted.

"How, then, are you able to appreciate literature by Shakespeare or famous poets and authors, if you never visited theatres, watch plays and dances, to watch these scenes being enacted out, right in front of your eyes?"

"Ahh! We just use our imagination!" To this question, I replied with absolute conviction. After all, this is what I frequently do. Imagine. Even until now.

"How about dancing, singing... ? How do you learn these at school?"

"Well, we learn to sing for fun, nursery rhymes, folk songs, but never the story behind these songs, or the era they were sung in, or imagine the scenario or the circumstances that the singer was in to come up with these songs. As for dance, did we have dance? I don't think so. It was an optional, extra-curricular activity."

My friend shakes her head in utter disbelief. She cannot imagine a life without ballet, singing, theatre and museums for students. I forgot to tell her, these are things which I only indulged in, as my earning power gradually increased, and I could afford to continually educate myself, about the world and life, its strife and its joys. As I seek to be inspired and entertained, by plays, art and music.

For a moment, we paused. How far have I come from the day I was schooling by the seaside, to the day I am working in one of the tallest twin towers in the world today? Are the youths and children of our youth missing out on certain parts of essential education, just because our methods and approaches are different? Are the left and right brains of our future generation being developed in a balanced manner?

I sigh. I certainly believe that everybody should watch a piece performed in a theatre at least once in their lifetime. To listen to a well rehearsed piece of orchestra music, string, quartet, especially wind instruments like piccolo and flute, oh! and harps! To be touched by music, and amazed by the talents of these musicians, whose fingers dance gracefully and effortlessly across strings, whistling through seemingly hollow tubes, releasing colourful music notes into the sky, like little soap bubbles, glistening and shining under the sun rays.

Yet, because these things are considered non-profitable activities, the cost of these performances are relatively high. And really, not everybody loves it, even if they could afford it.

Education is a continuous journey. If I had the power to influence the education ministry, I certainly would encourage children to visit theatres and museums, and bring history to life too! Oh! I do wish, ever, so much.

Buildings at the Red Kremlin Square 

Entrance to Gorky Park 

Military Museum (I think)