“Dear ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived
at Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Please ensure to take all of your
belongings with you. On behalf of our crew, thank you for choosing Turkish
Airlines as your Airline and we hope you had a splendid journey.”
Upon hearing
the final announcement, my heart sank into my stomach, which squeezed its way
down my leg and popped right out of the hole in my show. It struck the damn
carpeted floor and crushed into pieces. My legs suddenly became light, wanting
to run towards the cockpit and to request a detour of the flight because I had
arrived at the wrong destination.
I could
vividly remember the excitement in Prisha’s voice upon knowing that I’m
returning home- which is Malaysia, for good.
“We are going to plan trips! We shall have
weekend getaways to waterfall picnics! It’s going to be so much fun! All my
days of loneliness are over now that you’re back, Janie!”
Prisha was
my trump card to a smoother and fun filled return to a place which is supposed
to be my “home” but somehow felt strangely foreign. Reluctantly, I dragged my
feet out of the 18 metre high Business Class Airbus. (Since it’s my last flight
for a long time, why not treat myself to Business Class, eh?). Thoughts were
running through my mind, like a hypo-mania episode - thoughts of moving on from
the past and picking the scraps of present to build the future.
I eventually
found my way to the Immigration Checkpoint. There were 2 lines: one for locals
and the other foreigners. I was still contemplating on which side I should go
to, until I saw the direction for the Red Passport. I lead my way towards the
counter, handed my Passport over for examination and walked through the
Checkpoint in a breeze.
The moment I
opened my mouth to greet the Immigration Officer; I immediately knew I landed
in Malaysia. The lack of English language command with a cold shoulder and
unfriendly service one may receive at
KLIA would give an undoubted impression of a bloody halfwit son of gun, whose
job’s to stamp some unknown papers and wait till it turns 5.30pm to rush back
home where he continues being a bloody halfwit son of gun.
I looked
outside the 22 feet paned windows, up towards the sky and asked God (if any),
Seriously?? Is this what you made me come
back to?
Disheartened,
I trailed my roller bag behind me and continued walking towards the airport
main entrance. Throughout the journey, I refused to look up or at anyone. I did
not like the faces I saw and I did not like the place I was at. It was not
welcoming like how it used to be; it was not as friendly as where I came from;
and I feel that I don’t belong.
There's nothing like returning to a place
that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.
Nelson Mandela.
