The fake Malaysia by Gen Wong :)

Written by one of my favorite people in the world :)

Its a pretty good piece if you ask me :p

Is where I wake up in the morning and go to work and sweat it out at the gym and party and sleep at night. It’s where I can get my tall skinny hazelnut latte to go between the waking up and getting to work bits, usually after I’ve parked my Japanese-brand car under the tree in the carpark next to the ultra-plush, Skybar-housing hotel.

It’s where I hang out on the weekend, browsing the shelves of Borders for American Glamour, seeing the latest blockbuster (usually American, too) and maybe do some grocery shopping, checking off my list as I go – Waitrose Columbian ground coffee, bacon rashers, Jif peanut butter, Gardenia bread, McVities Digestives… (see the trend…?)

It’s where I have pork knuckle for dinner with a bunch of friends and we reminisce about those mad/crazy uni days in London/Nottingham/Melbourne/Boulder and all around us in the restaurant I hear funnily-accented English from people who look exactly like I do (i.e. Chinese) and I never have to use the national language.

Sometimes, it’s where I have a brush with the real Malaysia.

Like when the movie I see on the weekend is half-an-hour shorter than I swore it should be. It’s where I have to uncomfortably stammer my way through a conversation (which usually takes place over a counter) to renew my driving license, buy stamps, try to find out why my TM landline’s been suddenly cut off.

It’s where people who criticise our government are labelled ‘seditious’ and ‘a threat to national security’ and inexplicably find themselves (himself?) in Kamunting. Like, where the HELL is Kamunting??

It’s where the price of petrol yo-yos faster than we can say, ‘wonder what the government’s up to now…?’ in an OIL-PRODUCING country and cigarettes are damn cheap (I mean, what’s up with that??!!)

It’s where I don’t feel safe to walk around at night in the streets 2 minutes from my apartment complex ‘cos the police can’t be trusted to do their job. For that matter, neither can our fire department or our judges or our public school teachers or our government doctors and nurses… (I really could go on...)

It’s where I am treated as a second-class citizen, because my parents are not Malay and I don’t want any children I may have to grow up – better to grow up in a different country and be given more rights than you would have had in your OWN. Thank goodness I live in the fake one...