Girl from Malaysia: Reporting on the holidays

These holidays saw me do arguably more, at least in variety, than I usually do back home.

I visited the zoo and learnt that integrating a foreign chimpanzee into an existing clan is exceptionally difficult and requires a carefully thought out stage-like process. I also found out, like humans with our different dialects and languages, chimps from different parts of the world also emit different pitches in their calls and their general “hoo-hoo-ah-ahing”.

I celebrated the birth of Sikhism, Vaisakhi at a Sikh temple- a first for me, where I met a man with a fascinating story to tell. Of Chinese descent and a Buddhist by birth, he was brought up by a Sikh couple for more than ten years, where he learnt to embrace both the Punjabi language and traditions. Now, a grown man and reconciled with his birth family, he still celebrates Vaisakhi, and he did so that day donning a turban and speaking perfect Punjabi. What struck me the most was the instant connection speaking someone else’s language forged; there was always a moment of surprise, followed by recognition and acceptance, and just like that, an almost brotherhood-like bond was formed.

Of course it wasn’t just fun in the sun, I also attended the launch of a “No TV Week” campaign. They say “no TV”, but really they mean “no TV, computer, video games, mobiles”, I know, I was quite nauseated thinking about it. Besides that, I got to meet the Deputy Prime Minister of my country- he’ll deny it but it really did happen!

A rather more poignant yet significant memory among all these colourful ones was attending the funeral of a father, husband and politician. It was a disheartening scene, as the family, especially his wife, mourned and wept openly over the loss of their loved one to cancer.

At this point, you’re probably wondering why I was doing such random things and more importantly what the point of me telling you all this is. Well, truth is I was not an over-enthusiastic tourist in my own country chasing down all these different experiences like a mad woman; I was working. Yep, guessed it yet? I was interning as a journalist part of the news desk at a national newspaper back home.

For those of you thinking about being a journalist in the future and wondering what it’s like, it’s a massively stressful and taxing job. I was in and out of the office, driving and getting lost on the way to locations from 9am everyday. Sometimes, by the time my article was cleared and I was able to go home, it’d be 10.30pm. There were times when I swore violation of human rights, when there just wasn’t enough coffee and Redbull in the world to keep me awake, and when it was generally a massive pain in the word-that-I'm-not-sure-is-allowed-here.

The thing is, it was perhaps the most interesting, and certainly the most rewarding month in my life, and it’s been a long 20 years- I’m an old soul. Well, old enough.

Sure, living in a multicultural country like Malaysia, I have always had friends of different races and religious backgrounds, but we still had similar cultures and lifestyles growing up. As a journalist however, I was exposed to whole new cultures, invited to learn about various human-interest issues and much more. Most of all, I was privileged with the task of telling their story, in the most truthful manner I could. Though of course as an intern I was never given anything too hard-hitting, I still looked forward everyday to another unique experience and to regaling it to those who weren't lucky enough to be a part of it.

Unlike most jobs that strap you to a desk with an old ball and chain, journalism takes you to walk the streets with all levels of society. Whether it’s hanging out with the Head of Security of the Australian Embassy, lending an ear to a dissatisfied citizen, attending press conferences or just trading stories with your fellow reporters, you can expect to learn something new everyday.

So, the 9am-11pms, the panda eyes and the panicky journeys to remote locations? I’d say they were worth it. And seeing my name as a byline, in print, in a nationally read newspaper? Priceless.

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