Journal Entry 11.16.23

Last night we ate at a seafood restaurant along the water’s edge. The sunset was dramatic and everyone turned towards the horizon to take photographs. My son and I sat and waited for our dinner to be cooked, taking photographs like everyone else and chatting. Slowly a group of young woman joined together and posed in front of the sunset. I realized they were all wearing head scarfs with pro-Palestinian motifs that I had seen earlier in the markets as well as green clothes. They posed smiling and making un-ironic peace signs. I looked around, slowly realizing most people in the market and restaurant were wearing green. The young men, the hawkers bringing in customers, wore headbands similar to the women’s scarves. There was laughter, but there was also tension. A toy AK-47 was brought out and people aimed it at each other, almost celebratory. The hackles at the back of my neck went up.

My history is so tied to the history of this country, even though I am not a citizen. I still feel patriotism and remember the history of this place back to pre-colonial history. The massive influx of Filipino and Malay Muslims, the absence of Sabahan Chinese is not only noticeable, it makes me alert. I have lived with the oppressive Muslim rule in Indonesia. My family was banned because we did not embrace the uniting of Malaya and Sabah, uniting rather with the values of the people we lived with. AK-47s are a personal attack to me, having been surrounded by army officers wielding them in the airport when we were kicked out of the country. Grief and fear are woven together as I watched the misplaced nationalism, a cover for an agenda of local politicians. My loyalty to Sabah is confused by how unwelcome I feel. It is unclear to me why, but I suspect the people celebrating violence in the defense of Muslims around the world, do not view me as a Sabahan in any way. Christmas decorations fill the malls and women in full Hijab pose next to Christmas trees wearing Palestinian keffiyeh.