WHILE the real Malaysian “balik kampung” is not attached to a fixed date in the Gregorian calendar, the expatriate one is very much happening in June every year.
We are going home to see family and friends. Apart from the time of the year, this urge to leave our everyday life behind overcomes us all, there are many similarities between the two mini — or maxi — exoduses. And, this year, even the timing is more or less synchronised.
Why do we look so much forward to the summer at home, I wonder? We have the immense luxury to be guests in a country that offers eternal sunshine and warm temperatures. But for most expats, summertime still holds the promise of good times. And so we plan, we pack, we anticipate and we take off.
Summertime means much more than just warm evenings spent outdoors. And, I mean no disrespect to my fellow expats from the southern hemisphere, just bear with me, if you please.
To us, our overseas “balik kampung” is a synonym for a long awaited trip, usually planned well ahead of time. When the day of departure comes, however, we pack in a last minute panic.
We try to bring gifts for every family member we may or may not run into back home. We gather way too many clothes and shoes, which usually won’t fit into our suitcase. We attempt to carry souvenirs, exotic foods and all kinds of knick-knacks discovered at Central Market. We try to remember whom we gifted the place mats set from Borneo to last year and whom we bestowed the batik scarf upon, so as not to be embarrassed as we distribute these goodies among our relatives. We remind our spouses that yes, they need to haul the big camera all the way. “And, no dear, the smartphone camera won’t do for Auntie Sofia’s big garden party.” We pressure our children into finding space in their backpacks for the books that are, unfortunately, part of the summer reading programme. “Well, no honey, your gaming console is not more important.”
The mad dash to the airport that follows for us is not that different from the race on the NKVE, the North-South Expressway or any other long-distance road Malaysians will have to face to finally be on their homebound adventure.
No matter the amount of hours spent “en route”, no matter if we cross oceans or state borders, regardless of whether we left for a week or for a month, once we see our parents’ radiant faces on arrival, we all subscribe to the fact that it was well worth the trouble.
Whether it is an annual home leave or a Hari Raya trip home, we will sinfully overindulge on mum’s home-cooked meals.
Whether it is 10,000 miles away or a few hundred kilometres from home, we will rejoice at listening to dad’s stories of his years spent in the army.
Whether we haven’t met for years or a few months, we will delight in the simple pleasure of playing board games with our siblings — and in cheating at it just as we used to when we were kids.
More distant family members will travel to come and meet us. They will reassure us that we haven’t changed a bit, but be amazed at how much our children grew since they last saw them.
We will show our children where and how we grew up, we will instil in them a sense of belonging, we will attempt to firmly root them in a past that has shaped us and will hopefully give them their identity, too.
At the end of it all, exhausted but happy — and most probably a few kilos heavier — we will pack again. We will try to fit even more clothes and shoes into our suitcases. We will find some space in them for homemade goodies and presents received at Auntie Sofia’s rained out party. We compel “dear” to carry the big camera all the way back home. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to use it. But next time, please remember to pack the charger, too.” We insist that our little ones don’t forget their summer reading at our parents’ house. “I told you to read a few pages every day, now you will have to finish the entire book by tomorrow.”
We had joy, we had fun, we had evenings in the sun. And, yet, we will be happy to be home and get on with our lives. Knowing full well that next year, we’ll do that maxi — or mini — “balik kampung” all over again.
Fanny Bucheli-Rotter is a long-term expatriate, a restless traveller, an observer of the human condition and unapologetically insubordinate. She can be reached at fannybucheli.rotter@gmail.com