A muslim in Malaysia could be a foreigner, passing through at the airport's transit lounge and drinking latte at KLCC. I am not one of those. I am a muslim born and raised in Malaysia. I am a Malaysian.
Is there a cause to celebrate being a Malaysian? Perhaps there is, because we are not being bombed by rockets and missiles and I could safely drive around in my car without fear except for those crazy drivers zooming in and out from the left to the right lanes at top speeds.
Yes, I must celebrate immediately by making myself a cup of Cameronian tea (my favourite) savouring each sip before a metaphorical bomb blows up in front of me.
We are living on edge. Every minute of out lives. We take for granted every thing will be hunky dory, safe and sound. We wish not to speculate and live in fear, even if our house is located on a hill-slope as living in fear would paralyse us. We just carry on with our lives hoping for the best.
Malaysians have a devil-may-care attitude, simply because we are tired. Most of us cannot afford to live near our place of work and it is nothing to be driving 40 km back and forth every day to work. We just rushed in and out, making a few bucks along the way. Our quality of life - zilch!
This lamentation is borne out of a curiosity about what is enough in our lives. That question suddenly revealed itself to me. I need a strong conviction if I am to say, "I have enough with my life". Meaning I am satisfied with what I have.
I do not want to compare or justify about things. All I want to say is that I am so very satisfied with my life, until a bomb appear out of no where...are we thankful so far?
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