Ignorance is not an option

This article was written on 28 January 2010 for the Malaysian Bar website. 

When the Constitutional Law Committee (ConstiLC) decided to adopt “Merakyatkan Perlembagaan” as its slogan, it had good reasons. On top of trying to sensitise the Malaysian population on the content of the Federal Constitution, the ConstiLC upholds the notion that the Federal Constitution belongs to all Malaysian citizens regardless of age, gender, race, religion, political affiliation, sexual orientation, economic or social class, physical ability or the lack of it, etc.

Since the launch of the MyConstitution Campaign (the Campaign) in November 2009, the ConstiLC continues to receive on average, one request a week from various civil society groups to provide talks or workshops on the Federal Constitution. So far, the ConstiLC hasn’t turned down any of them.

On January 19, St. Francis Xavier (SFX) church hosted the ConstiLC by organising a “Conversations on the Constitution” session entitled “Relevance of the Federal Constitution: How does it affect us?”. 100 parishioners turned up. It was to be the first in a series of forums to be held at SFX; each coinciding with a theme of the Campaign’s nine phases. (For those who were not privy to the nitty-gritty details regarding the organisation of this talk, it was organised way before the High Court decision on the “A-word” was delivered.)

The panel speakers were from the ConstiLC; Edmund Bon, Paul Linus Andrews, Shad Saleem Faruqi and Leong Yeng Kong. Maha Balakrishnan made her debut as moderator for the evening and her questions ranged from something as straightforward as: “What are the things that people take for granted but are guaranteed by the Federal Constitution?” to others which were not so simple but instead, provoked much thought.

For instance, she asked,”What happens when there is a conflict between the rights of two citizens?” and proceeded to give the example of how the right to freedom of religion under Article 11 of the Federal Constitution is balanced between different citizens in a community when there is a dispute over the use of a loudspeaker for azan prayers and the ringing of the bells in a temple.

In responding to this question, Shad admitted that there is no easy way to resolve such dispute. However, he believes that it is important to step into the shoes of others and learn to look at the world through their eyes when confronted with a delicate issue such as those related to Article 11. He quoted former UN Secretary-General, Dag Hammarskjold, who once said, “to be truly objective, one must be subjective”.

Shad recalled how Malaysian leaders in the 1950s were fond of dialogues and there is a need for the leaders of today to return to that quality and spirit. In his usual calm and dignified manner, Professor Shad said, “Nobody got everything [at that time] but everybody got something.”

Both the panelists and audience were candid and honest which made the talk worthwhile. It was clear that many are concerned about the government’s lack of effective implementation of fundamental rights and liberties under the Federal Constitution. Some went as far as to question the relevance of having the Campaign to promote constitutionalism. Losing faith in their religion may not be an option, but many have clearly lost faith in the government’s ability to rule the country justly and intelligently.

A disconcerting revelation however was the overwhelming sense of hopelessness and helplessness felt by some of the parishioners in terms of how far they think Malaysia has moved away from the ideals that were laid out by our founding fathers. Such is their conviction that many are willing to contemplate migration.

When the floor was opened for questions and answers, it was obvious that most people were not as eager to understand the constitutional aspects of Madam Justice Lau Bee Lan’s recent judgment on the “A-word” issue as they were anxious to know whether as Malaysians, are we ready for change? Despite the air of frustration, all speakers remained optimistic. Each one of them had something inspiring to impart.

Leong believes that enlightenment will free Malaysians from fear. It would be wrong for the government to keep the population ignorant, and to instill a sense of fear in them. Instead, the government should be the one to fear its citizens.

Edmund shared Leong’s sentiment by echoing the need for greater empowerment of and activism by the people. He said the results of the general election in 8 March 2008 are significant proof of this.

When one member of the congregation asked whether this Campaign is too idealistic and the ConstiLC ignorant of the realities facing the nation today, Shad answered, “Facts should not guide ideals. It should be ideals that guide facts. Otherwise, we’ll never move. We’ll remain static. It is our duty to prepare the people to reach those ideals.”

He continued to provide a personal anecdote. “Sometimes, I could be teaching a class of 100 students. Perhaps, I won’t be able to inspire all of them. But if say, 10 students managed to show interest and potential, it is enough for me. It is something.”

Paul told the story of Emmett Hill, a 14 year-old African American who was murdered in Mississippi for purportedly whistling at a Caucasian woman. The main suspects were all acquitted but later admitted to the murder. The murder of Emmett Hill eventually became one of the leading events that inspired the American Civil Rights Movement.

Hill’s murder took place in 1955; 179 years after the independence of the US. That was how long it took and even longer before the first African American became President.

Paul asked, “If not now, when?” The point made was to show the insignificance of time when something is right and necessary. Emmet Hill’s violent death could have been avoided if the rights movement had started way earlier.

It was clear at the end that all speakers agreed the Campaign is necessary for everyone - Parliamentarians, Cabinet members, civil servants, Judges or those sitting in the audience; because change can only happen when there is awareness and it starts from us. We are ultimately responsible for all the changes made to the Federal Constitution. Who we vote into power also determines the destiny of our country.

Whether the speakers managed to present their views convincingly, the talk was effective as it allowed different people to express and share their fears and doubts in a safe space, something much needed in this country.

In addition, it is comforting that at so many levels, we witnessed genuine fellowship displayed by Muslims and Catholics under the same roof. Importantly, it finally dispelled my own ignorant assumption that Muslim Malaysians are barred from stepping into churches.

As Maha would say, “Knowledge is power and ignorance is not an option.”

Let’s all take this wisdom with us as we start this new year.

For more information on the MyConstitution Campaign, please click here.

What truly matters to you?

A woman, feeling frustrated and overwhelmed by her demanding boss, asks the latter one day, “Are you going to die tomorrow?”

Taken aback by her question, he asks her why she had asked such a curious question.

“Well, the hours that you’ve worked and the way you’ve always said everything is urgent, it’s as if you’re trying to do everything you can before you die,” she answers truthfully.

In order to appear unfazed, her boss answers arrogantly, “Well, supposing yes, I AM going to die tomorrow. Now, will you please do what I’m asking you to?”

“Well, then. Supposing you ARE going to die tomorrow, are you telling me that this is the most important thing that would have mattered to you?” The woman persists.

“Yes,” he answers.

“Alright then. If you say this is what matters most to you, I’ll respect a dying man’s wishes. But, in future, if I tell you that I won’t be able to work during weekends because I would like to help my children with their homework, visit my elderly parents, celebrate my best friend’s birthday or shop for Christmas dinner, would you please ask me the same question and respect my dying wishes as I have of yours?”

LibanOne* vs OneMalaysia

“Being in Lebanon taught me to understand that more often than not, it isn’t really the people who are at the heart of religious intolerance. It is often the state, religious leaders or political parties who are responsible for triggering and perpetuating such intolerance. Unfortunately, it’s often the people who suffer.”

Lebanon is unmistakably one of the most beautiful countries I’ve visited. At the same time, it is achingly painful when I look at the indiscriminate pockmarks on old buildings in downtown Beirut. They all bear the ugly scars of persistently long civil war and international conflict with Israel. Although it has enjoyed relative peace in the last few years, security remains a visible concern, as seen in the many military checkpoints all over the country.

Before I went to Lebanon less than a year ago, I was given the impression that the country is divided into two religious factions; Christians in the north and Muslims in the south. Beirut, which is situated in the middle, carries a mixture of both.

In Beirut, I didn’t feel such significant religious or cultural division. It was only in Tripoli, which is close to the northern border with Syria, that I felt the presence of a pre-dominantly Muslim region. To be honest, it was difficult to tell the difference between Christians and Muslims except for the tell-tale signs of headscarves worn by a number of Muslim women there.

While I was completely astounded by the breathtaking beauty of Byblos, the rustic charm of Tripoli and the humbling experience of being in the ancient Roman temple ruins of Baalbek, it was the Lebanese people who have intrigued me the most.

The Lonely Planet guidebook was a major disappointment in terms of providing practical advices and directions in Beirut; it failed to warn that the chances of being killed in Lebanon by reckless taxi drivers are higher than being bombed or kidnapped by the Hezbollah. Going about in Beirut was frustrating, as the locals didn’t seem familiar with the roads or places recommended by the book. Nevertheless, the Lonely Planet gave a true account of the hospitality and warmth of the people, which I have often found similarly ironic in other post-conflict countries that I have been.

I also found that Lebanese people are chatty by nature. Many whom I met seemed eager to share conversations even if they don’t speak a word of English. Taxi drivers often broke into a cacophony of indecipherable Arabic, much to my amusement. I particularly like the faces of elderly Lebanese men which seemed to carry well-defined lines of wisdom, kind eyes and sparkling smiles which are all symbols of the Lebanese spirit, unhampered by the years of civil and international wars. I was rather taken by the waiters at the Blue Note, a jazz bar in Beirut. One look at their aged faces made me wonder about the stories of their lives.

I was privileged to be in Harissa, situated high above the Jounieh Bay, on Easter Sunday. As one of the biggest celebrations in Lebanon, many Lebanese flocked to the infamous white-painted bronze statue of the Virgin of Lebanon. What was most interesting as I stood waiting in a long queue to get on the cable car was the number of Muslim Lebanese partaking in the celebration.

How did I know they were Muslims? Well, I asked some of them although it was obvious from the way the women were dressed, although bearing in mind that some Christians women do wear the headscarves too.

Coming from a country where Christian gospel music CDs and tapes are compelled to bear a label clearly indicating that they are for non-Muslims only; and not forgetting the controversies over Muslims practising yoga and non-Muslims using the word Allah (this was way before the High Court ruled in favour of the Herald using the word), I felt the urge to talk to some of the Lebanese in Harissa.

So instead of visiting the churches, I went around to talk to some random people I met. My questions that ranged from “Are you a Muslim or Christian? Why do you come to participate in the Easter celebration? Are the Christians happy to see you here (to Muslims)? What do you call God in your language? (to Christians)” raised some eyebrows as many were probably surprised by my “interrogation”.

It was definitely not an easy task due to the language barrier, but in general I sensed that they didn’t see this as such a big deal at all. I managed to talk to a Christian man from Beirut briefly before proceeding to find a Muslim for a different perspective.

I stumbled across an elderly woman seeking refuge from the scorching sun underneath a tree near the statue. She looked Muslim as she was wearing one of those long and loose black robe and headscarf.  I tried to strike up a conversation with her but she didn’t speak English nor French. However, she appeared friendly and eager to talk and she gestured for me to wait, presumably for someone to come along to help with the translation.

After waiting for about 10 minutes, a young couple approached the woman and the man was none other than the Christian man from Beirut.

He looked at me and said, “It’s you again. I see that you’re still going around interviewing people.” I grinned and told him that I was interested to speak with the kind and warm looking woman sitting by my side.

He revealed that the elderly woman is his mother-in-law and the pretty and charming young woman by his side is his Muslim wife. I felt as if I had hit the jackpot in my quest to understand the religious dynamics in Lebanon.

He told me that his wife and him didn’t have to convert their religions when they got married. His mother-in-law explained that she took her daughter to live in Harissa with the nuns for 6 months when the latter was a baby. Although I couldn’t get any further explanation as to what prompted her to do that, she said that she doesn’t feel her faith being threatened at all by celebrating Easter with the other Lebanese Christians. In fact, she believes that there is only one God; whether it is Jesus or Allah.

The man had earlier on told me that although in general, the Christians refer to God as Jesus, Allah is an acceptable term for it means God in Arabic. In fact, he looked appalled when I asked whether the Muslims are offended by the Christian’s usage of the name Allah.

After I thanked them for taking the time to talk to me, the man said to me, “My mother-in-law would like to invite you to our house in Beirut.” It would have been a lovely experience but since my friend and I had a tight itinerary planned for our short stay in Lebanon, I turned down the invitation politely.

In Harissa, I also asked two Muslim youths who came with a large group of highly excited and energetic friends about their own experiences for Easter. In my limited French, I managed to gather that they come to visit Harissa during Easter every two years.

The girl, dressed in long-sleeved top and pants, accompanied with a cute red with white polka-dot bareback dress, told me that she likes to come and see the crowd of people in the beautiful church, which overlooks the Jounieh Bay. It was more of the atmosphere that she enjoys but I suspect that it was the steep cable car ride that excites them more than anything else!

I have to admit that it was a highly refreshing and mind opening experience in Harissa. It made me wonder whether such seemingly pluralistic and harmonious cultural exchanges between the two main religious groups in Lebanon are felt only on the surface since the country has been seized by civil wars often triggered by religious quest for power and dominance.

A Muslim Lebanese man, who sat beside me on the plane back to Kuala Lumpur, was able to provide me with his views. When I told him how pleasantly surprised I was to see Muslims and Christians celebrating Easter together, he shrugged and said, “That’s how we have been living together for years and why not? We all have the same God. Lebanese people don’t really care what religion we are. It’s the people in power and politics that divide us. Otherwise, we just want to get on with our lives.”

Finally, when I asked him what he thinks about the substantial number of Jews living in Lebanon, whom according to the Lonely Planet, try to keep a low profile, he said, “It’s not the Jews we are against. It’s Zionism. Nothing to do with Judaism.  We welcome them like any other people.”

Being in Lebanon taught me to understand that more often than not, it isn’t really the people who are at the heart of religious intolerance. It is often the state, religious leaders or political parties who are responsible for triggering and perpetuating such intolerance. Unfortunately, it’s often the people who suffer.

*In French, Lebanon is known as Liban.

This article has been adapted and modified from a previous essay entitled “Conversations with the Lebanese” written in April 2009. It has been published in The Malaysian Insider on 20 January 2010.

Traffic jams and human rights in Malaysia

Traffic jams in Kuala Lumpur are something many would gladly live without. Surprisingly, I’m beginning to see the bright side of it. That is, if I’m in a taxi.

Traffic jams provide ample time for taxi drivers to start a calm conversation which usually ends up being a cathartic session. My own observations show that each driver has his own opinion and prejudice but they all share a common grouse and the height of their provocation is always the government, regardless of his race.

When I was asked to write about human rights in Malaysia for this article, my first thought was gee, where do I start? Truthfully, what makes it harder is the fact that I haven’t lived in Malaysia in the past couple of years to write about it authoritatively.

Thankfully, I have these taxi drivers to bring me up to speed, even if it’s only one aspect of what is wrong with our country today and in my opinion, they’re all interconnected. They also taught me that the prime minister’s ideal of 1 Malaysia fails miserably.

Most of us know that it would be fair to surmise that freedom of religion, expression and peaceful assembly, deaths in police custody, preventive detention, sexuality and indigenous rights are some of the top 10 human rights issues in Malaysia. With 1,000 words at my disposal, I’m going to cut to the chase. If you’re expecting this article to be an executive summary of the human rights condition in Malaysia, you’ll be sorely disappointed. SUARAM and SUHAKAM’s annual reports will serve that purpose.

My own conclusion is that human rights in Malaysia will only improve once corruption ends and respect for the rule of law begins.

Even taxi drivers know this and they gain this intelligence just by observing the traffic jams from the inside of their beat-up Protons. Just so you know, the short film “Meter” isn’t really a fair representation of all taxi drivers.

“Wow, the traffic is really bad!” I exclaimed from the back of a taxi I took from a shopping mall recently. It was close to eight as I rushed to do some last-minute Christmas shopping on a Thursday night.

“Hmmm… biasalah (it’s normal). You want to know why?”

I wanted to answer because there are too many cars in the city and shopping is after all Malaysians’ favourite hobby, only second to eating, but the Malay driver’s answers were more analytical.

“Thanks to our government, they allow these shopping malls to be built right in the middle of a busy intersection. Ah, you tengok (look at this). This is not new. They know how many cars are passing through here and why do they build only two lanes? Patutlah (of course), jam!”

“We are working-class people who work hard all day. Time is important-kan? Every minute wasted is every penny lost. Every construction built, is every penny earned for them. The more construction there is, the more money they make-lah!” He sighed.

As we crawled past behind the mall, a couple was seen snuggling in a dark corner.

“Eh! Apa,ni (what’s this)? Celebrating Christmas-kah?”

He shook his head and said disapprovingly, “Hmm… macam-macam you boleh tengok sekarang (you can see all sorts of things these days). Men looking more like women and women behaving like men. Ya, Allah. What is happening to this world?”

I found myself pulling the collar of my shirt tightly together for the rest of my ride home.

“You know what H1N1 is?” A talkative Chinese driver asked me a few days later and it was obvious that he wasn’t testing my knowledge of the disease. He waited impatiently for me to tell him I didn’t know the answer so that he could share his brilliant joke.

I shook my head.

He said gleefully: “Aiyah, you don’t know-meh?”

“It’s Hishammuddin1, Najib1. So if you get it, die-lor.” I smiled politely while he chuckled out loud, obviously pleased with his joke.

Before I could comment, he continued: “You know-ah. All this bird flu, swine flu, not as dangerous as H1N1, you know! What kills us are Hishammuddin and Najib!”

“Really? Why?” He finally sparked my interest.

“Errr… you Chinese, right?” Even if I’m not, I wasn’t going to admit it and spoil the fun.

“We, Chinese, will not live in peace as long as Hishammuddin and Najib rule this country. Everything is about the Malays.”

“But don’t you think it’s not just a Chinese problem?” I challenged.

“Yes, yes, you’re right. Every race has a problem. The Indians are so poor, they become gangsters. The Chinese feed corruption and Malays [they] feed off the government. What is our government doing about this? Nothing! Why should they? In the end, the Malays are the ones who untung-mah (benefit).”

At the end of my ride, I learned more about this new disease called H1N1 from the taxi driver than from the paper.

Perhaps the most intelligent conversation I had was the one with an Indian taxi driver. He blamed traffic jams on poor public transportation and bad traffic regulations. He said that if we improve on the LRT lines, provide better bus services and impose zoning laws where one-driver-vehicles are prohibited from entering the city at peak hours, the traffic would be better.

“But why would the government do that? They rather build flyovers without proper planning. The construction jams up the whole city and then, what do they do? They build more flyovers! That’s where they get all the money, what. Our government is so corrupt that nothing works in this country,” he said with genuine frustration.

“I’m telling you the truth because I know from experience. I was a police for seven years at the Thai border. I worked hard but earned peanuts. If you want to earn more, you makan suaplah (take bribes). Many people do it but I refuse. So now, I’m a taxi driver-lah!”

“Boss, I think it’s better if you keep to your left. It’s faster,” I offered my opinion as we arrived at a road I take regularly after work.

“Oohh… so now you know the roads better, huh?” he said sarcastically.

Moral of the conversations is that we can all talk about human rights abuses in Malaysia but until the problem of traffic jam is solved in this country, they will go nowhere. If our government is unable to solve a basic problem such as road infrastructure, do you honestly think it can with bigger problems like the ISA?

Happy New Year to all! Let’s hope traffic conditions will improve next year.

This article was first published at The Malaysian Insider on 2 January 2010 under the same title.

Adults do get bullied. It’s called politics!

Bullies are mean.

Bullies think they have the natural right to make others feel bad about themselves.

Bullies are cowards.

Yes, so we’ve heard.

As a child, I don’t remember being bullied much. Perhaps it was because I was bigger than most other children but mostly, I think it was because I never allow myself to be bullied.

When I was six, I got into a bloody fight with a boy who teased me in kindergarten. He ended up having a black eye while I lost my front tooth. This explains why I grew up with a set of crooked teeth.

I don’t remember crying. Instead, I spent my teenage years begging my parents to let me wear braces.

When I was thirteen, one of our teachers tried to humiliate us by defacing our faces with a piece of white chalk whenever we made a mistake in class. I would sit at the back of the class, fuming and just when I managed to sum up enough courage, I stood up and blurted out, “You shouldn’t be doing this. What you’re doing is wrong!”

“Oooohhh, you think you’re so smart? Step out now!” The teacher yelled at me and threatened me with his long metal ruler from the table.

Oblivious to the threat, I walked right to the front of the class and extended my hand voluntarily. Smack! I received a hard blow to my outstretched palm.

I don’t remember crying but the teacher probably did after he was fired from the school once a report was lodged by my friend’s parents. According to my friend, her Mom said that she didn’t spend all those money on teenage-acne-skin treatment cream just for the teacher to draw on with a dirty chalk.

So now you think that being an adult, I probably don’t get bullied around. Bullying only happens when you’re a child. Adults are too dignified to subscribe to such method of intimidation and abuse.

On the contrary, I get bullied more as an adult than when I was a child.

As a child, we often get bullied by other children or adults because we’re either smaller in size, weaker in strength, ugly, fat, effeminate, eccentric or if we possess any other undesirable human traits.

As an adult, I’ve learned that societies are taught to believe that one’s worth is measured by gender, age, social status and income. If you don’t measure up, you’re more likely to be subjected to bullying by those who think that they are above everyone.

At the age of 25, I left Malaysia to serve as the youngest female UN volunteer in Timor Leste. I was young, idealistic and needless to say proud.

Working together with a mixture of people from various countries and diverse culture really opened up my eyes to the universality of human behavior. I left feeling proud but this was soon replaced by insecurity. Being the lowest paid UN staff, it was easy for others to make me feel small and insignificant.

Soon enough though, my job taught me to understand the importance and significance of my role in the greater scheme of things.

There was one particular senior staff who tried to make me feel that being a woman, young and a volunteer, I was not worthy of his respect. Being in charge of administrative, procurement and logistics coordination, he felt that he had great power and influence over anyone. Simply put, any staff who needed something as trivial as a chair, had to seek his authorisation.

Upon realising such power, many staff tried to gain his favour by giving him favours. He, of course, thrived on all the special treatment.

Being young and naïve, I did not quite understand the need for anyone to kowtow to him. I thought that it was simply his job to attend to the administrative and logistic needs of his fellow colleagues. Hence, I never bothered paying him more attention than needed and maintained our relationship strictly professional. I could not bear to be in his company since I questioned his intention and integrity.

Needless to say, my indifference towards his power and position eventually hurt his ego. I began to notice that it took me more effort than anyone else to request anything from him. He would snub me in public and found ways to make my work difficult.

The extent of his dislike for me reached a climax when he denied me access to a driver, truck, chairs, equipment and additional staff I needed in order to organise an important event.

His excuse was, I did not provide him with sufficient notice and it was a weekend where the word “work” meant nothing to him. It was of course an excuse used to make sure that I would be held responsible for a failed event since the word “weekend” did not exist in such a humanitarian work context.

I was given an ultimatum, to submit to defeat or to rise up to the occasion.

I chose the latter.

Instead of breaking down and pleading to him, I gathered all the strength and courage I had to put together all the resources I needed on my own.

That weekend, I spoke with some locals who agreed to lend me all the furniture and equipment I needed from the local community hall, drove my own assigned vehicle to painstakingly transport all the materials and hired additional workers from my own pocket. It was a lot of hard work. I could have made my own life easier but I chose not to compromise my dignity and pride.

The event was a huge success and the biggest battle won, was one of personal triumph. The senior staff soon learned that I would not be broken down and what I lacked in age and position, I made up in strength and determination.

There are many forms of bullying and for adults, they are politics in disguise. They may not always appear in the form of someone who is bigger, prettier or simply mightier, but often in the form of a senior person in a position of power. We are taught or made to feel that we are not good enough due to the fact that we are younger, uneducated, poor or simply being a woman.

However, if we learn to have respect and belief in ourselves, nobody can take that away from us no matter how hard they try. Bullies may break our physical being but hopefully they will never break our spirit. We can either submit to their prejudices or we can always prove them wrong.

Perhaps what we should think about is why there will be some people who love to put us down? I personally think that it is often the only way they know how to deal with their own insecurities.

The good thing is, there will always be a few people who will recognise and acknowledge our hard work and potential and those are the people who really matter.

My experience as a UN volunteer has taught me that every person, no matter how low they are in the scale of things, they each have an important role to play and they should never let other people try to convince them otherwise.

Always serve with pride and dignity because that’s the best weapon you can ever use to throw bullies off balance.

Bullies have no respect for themselves.

This article was first published on The Malaysian Insider on 18 December 2009 under the same title.

International Migrants Day - Migrants in Malaysia

Someone once told me, “The world is filled with assholes. Well, at least ninety percent of it.”

It’s a strong statement, but believe it or not I think it’s close to the truth. Boy, what a scary thought it is.

It’s International Migrants Day today. Personally, I don’t know what that means except that the many Indonesian migrant workers I met yesterday do not know or even care that a day has been dedicated to them. There is no reason for any celebration whatsoever.

What do you think are the odds of a migrant domestic worker being employed by an asshole?

Megawati

This is the story of Megawati, a 22 year old Indonesian girl who came to Malaysia with hundreds of thousands of others in search of a better life.

“How long have you worked here?” I asked her.

“Four months,” she replied shyly.

“So, is it a bad majikan [employer] or agent which caused you to end up here?”

I was curious what brought her to the shelter at the Indonesian Embassy in Kuala Lumpur. More than 100 Indonesian women and children are being sheltered at the embassy while waiting to be deported home due to the absence of work permit. In fact, they wouldn’t have overstayed in Malaysia if they had their passports.

The many women I talked to share the same stories. They are there because their employers or agents had held them and their passports hostage after their contracts expire. They are there because they managed to escape. Many of them have friends or know someone still being detained illegally by their employers or agents.

These are not just the horror stories.

Megawati continued to tell me that her employer is a bachelor who hired two maids. She was one of them. God only knows why a bachelor needed two domestic workers.

After only working for 3 days, her employer started to abuse her.

“How did he abuse you?” I asked her solemnly.

“He kicked me in the stomach,” she said reluctantly in the beginning. “Sometimes, he hit me on the head with a vase. He also splashed me with boiling water.”

I gritted my teeth as I listened to her. She must have told this story a million times because she said it with such an even tone. For those who are not there to see the scars on her arms, would have thought she had rehearsed her story just to gain sympathy.

I held her right arm and inspected the clean but unnatural discoloration. “This looks old,” I said.

“But when she arrived [here], it was filled with pus,” a woman sitting beside her intervened immediately. She must have thought I didn’t believe Megawati.

“Show her. Show her.” The woman encouraged Megawati.

Megawati’s hands went up to the top buttons of her vermillion red shirt with batik printed collar. As she was unbuttoning her top, she told me that she has burn marks all over her chest.

“It’s OK. I believe you,” I said while I held her hands to stop her from having to undress in front of me just to prove the abuse she had suffered.

“Why do you think your employer did this to you?” I asked.

“Because I made mistakes. Whenever I made a mistake, he would get angry.”

“Did he sexually abuse you?” I had to ask.

“No,” Megawati answered. I was not convinced.

A few seconds later, Megawati told me that her employer made the other maid cut herself up with a knife.

It seems that once the agent found out the unmentionable acts committed by the employer, she was immediately sent to the shelter. The police was notified and her case is still under investigation.

When I asked Megawati whether her parents know what has happened to her here, she told me no. When I asked her whether she would ever tell them, that was when tears started to well up in her eyes.

In a croaky voice, she said, “I would never tell them. They’re old. I don’t want them to suffer.”

Dayanti

Not everyone has a good agent like Megawati. Often than not, they are probably one of the worst perpetrators when it comes to migrant rights.

Dayanti told me that her passport is being detained by her agent. On top of that, she has given RM1,200 to the agent in return for the promise of going home safely at the end of her contract. Until today, she’s still stuck in Malaysia. She has not received her salary for five months and mean time, her agent has also borrowed RM1,760 from her. In total, she has paid a huge price for working in Malaysia for 2 years.

Before arriving at the shelter, Dayanti was detained by the agent with 3 other Indonesian women. They were forced to work at the agent’s house without being paid. In legal terms, this is considered as forced slavery. Like some of the tough ones, she escaped and ended up at the shelter. The other two are too afraid to escape and are still being held hostage until today.

What does the embassy do?

According to Dayanti, the embassy is trying to work things out with the agent. When I asked the Labour Attache what does working out with the agent entail? He said they try to solve the problem diplomatically. If the agent doesn’t cooperate, they will issue a single passage pass to the women so that they can return home.

What about cases of abuse?

The Labour Attache said that they will report this to the police. Many cases are being solved through mediation. This means, if the employers cooperate and agree to offer compensation (usually two months pay), they won’t press any criminal charges. It seems that most cases are being solved this way.

One woman wept as soon as she talked about her 4-year old daughter in East Java, whom she hasn’t seen for a long time. “I want to go home because I miss my daughter so much,” she said with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Others told of the stories of being fed a meagre meal a day and some, were raped.

Not all stories were sad. Dayanti, for instance, laughed as she told me how she tricked her agent into believing her when she said she was going to feed the cat, when in effect, was a decoy for her great escape. Perhaps her agent’s ironic ability to love an animal has helped save her life. Perhaps, that’s why she laughed.

International Migrants Day will mean something when these assholes are being brought to justice. After all, they’re a waste of space in this world.

*All names have been changed to protect the identities of the women

This article was first posted on Loyar Burok on 18 December 2009 under the title Migrants in Malaysia.