Exploring Worldwide Hometowns: Johor Bahru, Malaysia

“I’m Elisa, a sophomore in Leverett House from Malaysia studying Statistics and Social Studies.”

Though I once had to rehearse these lines before it was my turn to speak in class, my “Harvard Intro” has now become a stock phrase I can repeat while my mind drifts elsewhere. However, there is one part of this sentence that catches most of my peers’ ears. 

When I think of Malaysia, I imagine highways lined with palm trees and street carts selling Iced Milo in plastic bags. This is my home. Before coming to Harvard, I struggled to imagine anyone picturing Malaysia differently. But, I now find myself constantly answering inquiries about whether I’m from Kuala Lumpur, the capital. When I tell them I’m from Johor Bahru, I’m often met with a confused blank stare. To avoid this all-too-familiar exchange, I’ve started saying that Johor is the New Jersey to Singapore’s New York City.

While this helps others situate Johor Bahru, it often leads them to ask about Singapore. Everyone is excited to hear about Singaporean landmarks such as the Changi Airport, Marina Bay Sands, the Merlion, and the gorgeous Gardens by the Bay. All things considered, Singapore was an integral part of my growing up: I attended concerts, sports tournaments, and fondly remember going to Universal Studios for Halloween Horror Nights. However, sometimes I wish there were a way to talk about JB without relating it to Singapore.

We didn’t have the flashy attractions or big, headline concerts like Bruno Mars or Taylor Swift, but I preferred that—and yes, I am aware that this may sound like coping. In our “boring” town, there were just two real hangout spots, and thus there was an almost certain chance you’d run into someone you knew. Every weekend, my entire school population was split between cafe-hopping in Eco Botanic—a complex filled with artsy cafes—or wandering Midvalley Mall.

Plans didn’t change much, but that didn’t matter. My friend and I took the same route through the mall every weekend, just with new gossip to share. First, we’d hit up Starbucks so I could get a Trenta Cold Brew, then Koi Thé for my friend’s Hazelnut Boba with golden pearls. Then we’d meander through Cotton On, finding clothes we’d try on but rarely buy. Sometimes, during the holidays, the mall would have a Lion Dance we’d watch instead, or we’d go through the stalls set up selling Raya Kuihs for Ramadan.

We would do this all while sharing the latest updates on what people who had recently graduated were up to or if that one couple was back together again for the millionth time, anxiously scanning the vicinity, knowing there was a non-zero chance someone else from our school was eavesdropping. 

My high school, Marlborough College Malaysia, rather unusually, housed kindergarten through secondary school in the same building. As a result, most of us had been at MCM since we were seven. Because it was the only school in an area already limited in places to go, nobody was a stranger. As cliché as I used to think the phrase “building a school community” was at MCM, since coming to Harvard, where camaraderie is much harder to find, I’ve realised this saying may have served a purpose. 

Coming to Cambridge for college, public transit, and a walkable city meant people were no longer confined to the same few locations the way they had been in high school. And while the class size of 1,600 allowed me to meet more interesting people, this was nothing like the familiarity inherent to the rotating cast of 30 people whom I saw all my life. While I love the freedom of trying a new cafe every week and having a million activities to choose from, I miss the feeling of every hangout being the same. 

Yet, like the memories of hangouts imprinted in my mind, a few things have stuck with me from JB.

Any of my friends will attest that I have atrocious texting habits: I frequently shorten phrases, even inventing my own acronyms, and my messages are littered with typos. While the typos are entirely on me, incessant acronym usage is definitely a function of being Malaysian. If you don’t have something, you’d reply “xde,” also known as takde, which itself is a contraction of “tak ada.” To agree with something, you’d say “ok2,” literally meaning “ok-ok,” coming from Malay’s tendency to repeat words to indicate plurality. It helps make something cutesy, just like how adding “lol” or “lmao” to any message makes it sound less serious or dry. Though “xde” stays with friends back home, friends at Harvard have adopted the jovial “ok2,” swapping it for the “kk” I’ve always found passive-aggressive.

While almost everyone in JB speaks English, it is not everyone’s first language. Instead of hampering communication, it has made people more adept at getting their point across or understanding what someone else is trying to say. At a restaurant, there is a lot of “zhi ge” (this one) and vigorous pointing to order, or a lot of “okokok” and head nodding when you are pretending to understand what is being said by older relatives at a family gathering. The result? An unspoken language that everyone understands.

Compared to Cambridge, life in Malaysia felt more accommodating, letting you just express what you needed while people worked together to understand you. Despite our international student population, people are often taken aback when I say “bib” instead of “pinny” at IMs or club sports. One of the most obvious examples to me is the word “tissue.” In Malaysia, “tissue” can mean paper towel, toilet paper, and more, with the meaning implied by the situation you’re in. But here, word precision seems to be an expectation, and I would have to take an additional second to choose the correct name. Occasionally, I do slip up, getting weird looks when I’m on autopilot, hurrying to find “tissues” to clean a spilled drink.

While I certainly have come to love my Cambridge home, I appreciate being from JB, being able to easily excuse my quirks with “oh, that’s just a Malaysian thing.” While my friends have started calling me out on this, it’s nice to hold the power to define Malaysia, at least to some people. 

And while my home in JB may not be the NYC of the Malaysian peninsula, nothing beats knowing exactly where you and your friends are going for coffee and what everyone will be getting, even if it’s because there are only three options.

Elisa See ’28 (elisasee@college.harvard.edu) is looking for “tissue” to wipe the Coke Zero she spilled over her friend’s carpet.