Ken preps the kids for their role as US cultural ambassadors
Meg's Muslim Malaysian host family's home
Sepak takraw, kick volleyball
The outrageous local river shrimp are in the middle, bottom of the above photo
Grandma
Meg with her host mom, who cooked the feast
Family kids watching national geographic channel while we eat
Meg showing us how to peel fish meat off a whole, bone-filled fish using your hands.
Host mom proud to watch us gorge
Hunter tried her best to be a cultural, culinary ambassador,even trying the chicken, after a few moments of doubt
February 3, 2011
We have never eaten at a Muslim Malaysian home. Truth is, our only intimate exposure to and friendships with Malaysians here has been through my work, which is entirely Malaysian minority -- Chinese and Indian-Malaysians. In fact, I'd been getting resentful of the Muslim Malaysian government's Muslim-only preferential policies in addition to lack of protections combined with harassment and worse of refugees here. But, I'd been thinking lately that it's better to get to know some Muslim Malaysians as individual human beings before judging them based on their government's policies.
My Fulbright student friend, Meg, deliberately chose to live with a local Muslim Malaysian family in the small beach village near the river turtles she studies. She chose to do it, even when she could have lived by herself in a lovely large apartment or home there. But, she thought that improving relations with the local community would only help her endangered river turtles -- the locals might then be more open to any initiatives she and the Turtle Conservation Centre try to get cooperation for. And, her host family invited us for tea our first day in town and for dinner the following night.
Before we walked in, Ken gave the kids a rah-rah, "let's be open to new foods and people" talk, trying to prevent any "YUCK! This food is gross," international incidents. As we walked in, I noticed that as it grew dark, only boys were outdoors, footloose and fancy free, with no restrictions on them in the dark, biking, soccer, and playing Sepak takraw, or kick-only volleyball.
Rebecca presented the host children with fabulous NYC tourist paraphernalia like I Heart NYC coin purses. The kids were bashfully both confused and pleased by the gifts. And, they watched our kids swing in the hammocks. The host mother and grandmother had been cooking ALL day, preparing a feast they'd shopped for in the local market that morning.
You can see what a spread it was. You're only seeing part of it. But, first, they sat us at the table. WITHOUT THEM. I protested, trying to explain that we wanted to sit with them. But, they insisted on standing over us, watching us as we ate. Their kids watched TV until we were done with our dinner, then they ate. All us Westerners sat together, not talking to any of the Malaysian family members over dinner. Although, we forced the mom to talk to us a bit.
I think they didn't want to sit with us because it'd felt awkward when we'd come for tea the previous day. And, I think it was awkward because they were self-conscious about their poor English. We didn't feel uncomfortable about it, happily making Meg translate our giddy, chatty overtures.
Still, we felt like we really connected with them. The host mom was downright glowing with pride over how much we all loved her food. Honestly, we haven't been thrilled with Muslim Malaysian food. But, eating it freshly prepared in someone's home is a whole other story. It was delicious. And, the grandma collects the shrimp herself, fresh from their local river using a technique of dropping a banana leaf into the water and returning later when the shrimp are stuck to the leaf, eating all the bacteria and green muck that's collected. The shrimp were phenomenal with a red chili paste coating them.
And we ate it all with our fingers!!! The kids will remember eating with our fingers the rest of their lives. And, they loved the food. Kept on asking for more to the delight of the host mom.
As we finished our meal, the grandma came in to say goodbye because she was going to the mosque to pray. She looked ghostly -- all dressed in white, talcum powder on her face, her head covered in a white scarf. Meg identifies most with her, explaining that the grandma is constantly productive -- shrimping, making textiles and cigarette wrappers, not to mention just plain, quietly in charge as the matriarch and chief provider.
We watched our children take turns melting as they became exhausted, after having such a late dinner. But, I didn't care, being so happy that they'd lived beach village life, like a real conservative Muslim Malaysian, at least once during our year here
Click here for a video of Ken's toast to the Malaysian family for hosting us.
