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It was much easier crossing the Thai/Malaysia
Border with just our Peace Corps ID in 1979 |
When we left Malaysia in September of 1980, we had no desire to return. We had worked there as Peace Corps volunteers in Perlis, the northern most and smallest state, for over two years and gave it our all. We both liked and disliked our job in rural health and economic development.
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| Perlis on the Thai border |
And the same could be said for Malaysia. The extreme heat and humidity, the bugs, bureaucracy, language barriers, our lack of privacy and productivity, government policies toward ethnic Chinese and Indians, and rising Islamism started to wear us down. We didn’t sign up for an optional third year, but we went out on top with good feelings and accolades by our neighbors, colleagues, the governor, and the local rajah (sultan), and yes, Malaysia still has six of them.
So after three months of travel through Burma and India, we booted up our lives 2.0 back in the States. We started a business, raised a family, hosted exchange students, and immersed ourselves in the community of Salem, Oregon. When we became empty nesters, we started traveling with a vengeance, all over the USA and the world.
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| Our house in Kg Santan. Rent was $40 per month |
Eventually, curiosity and Google Earth maps of Perlis got the best of us. McDonalds? 7-11s? KFCs? New Hospitals? Three universities? New parks and tourist attractions? Ten story hotels and office buildings? Shopping malls? A major reservoir? Two and three lane paved roads? Laundromats and car washes? And where was our home in the village? So when we were looking for “neighboring”places to visit after our Bhutan trip, we decided, “Why Not?”
At first we were apprehensive. Like any favorite wilderness campsite or childhood hometown, we held a nostalgic view of Kampong Santan (our village), its people and environs, and even our old rundown office building in the capital city of Kangar. Will the people and places we knew still be there? We wouldn’t know until the morning after we arrived, and arriving is a story in itself.
Getting There
We flew from Chaing Mai, Thailand to Hat Yai, then took a 50-minute taxi ride from the airport to the border. It just seemed too easy, until it wasn’t. The border was not set up for pedestrians, only for a daily train, tour busses and returning minivans of Malaysian shoppers.
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| Familiar landmarks we could recognize in the dark |
Eventually we were directed to an office, not an immigration podium. The Thai official had us sit at his paper-strewn desk as he carefully reviewed our passports. He eventually stamped them, pointed out the window and said “Malaysia down road.” Well, the curved road was about a 1/2 mile of barbed wire frontier to the Malaysian check point, and it was almost dark.
I think they were both money changers. But through our rusty Malay (it’s MUCH better now), they called a friend in a nearby town to come and take us through the frontier, Malaysian immigration, an ATM, and to our hotel in Kangar, 45 minutes away. Turns out, he knew our former boss! He detoured briefly in a nearby village to pick up his wife and young son, because they wanted to have a meal in “the big city.”
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| A very happy reunion over great food. |
We finally met our Malaysian Chinese friend Moee Choo, who we had known back in the day, when she was a 24-year old administrative assistant and wife to a Canadian World Bank employee we had met at the raja’s birthday dinner. Now widowed, she drove up from Penang, and it was like we saw each other just last week.
Surprises, Good and Sad
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A former neighbor in a colorful
Sarong and kebeya |
Our biggest shocks were two-fold: 1) all the new roads, buildings, and vehicles we had seen on Google Earth actually exist at “street level” (the good) and 2) all the Malay women and often very young girls wearing head scarves and frumpy black gowns (the sad). They used to wear colorful batik sarongs and flattering kebayas (blouses), but Perlis and Malaysia in general have become more religiously conservative. You can see some examples of how they used to colorfully dress in the photo link below.
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Our old office building, now substantially upgraded.
We worked there mornings, then rode our Honda 70
To the villages in the hot afternoon.
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Our old office area was closed, because it was Sunday. Forty-five years ago, Thursday afternoons and Fridays were the weekends. And because the retirement age for government workers is 58, we moved on as even the younger ones we knew are long gone.
Homecoming
We drove around, and the only really familiar landmarks were the geological limestone formations. Everything else was new, big, and disorienting—but impressive. We had difficulty finding our former kampong. But, armed with some photos we had printed out at home, we spotted the shape of the top of our kampong’s renovated mosque and entered on the now paved lane.
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| Where our old house was |
Our old teakwood home was long gone as its termites and ants keeping it together stopped holding hands. But within minutes, people materialized, some our age, most younger. They all remembered us—especially those who were teenagers at the time—but we struggled to remember them.  |
| Younger relatives of our landlords |
All of the older people are long gone. We were invited in for tea and shared more photos. It was like we had never left; very fun and heartwarming. Our Malay came back quickly. Some of their children now live in either the US, the UK, or Australia, and get periodic visits from their Kg. Santan parents.Making News
The kampong has a Facebook group page, dedicated to memories. It has 968 members, many who are scattered about Malaysia and elsewhere. The next thing we knew we were all over it with a few of the photos we gave them.
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| Censored photo |
We later added more of our digital photos, and so far there are over 500 likes plus many comments. They are having a blast trying to identify their younger selves or deceased aunts and uncles. However, one photo of Kathy cooking in the kitchen with her shoulders exposed was deleted! |
A framed photo of us a neighbor
Had kept! |
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| The Kampong’s Facebook memories group |
The local newspaper picked up on our visit, and here’s the link. We were the most interesting thing to happen to Kampong Santan back then, and today. In fact, we were the only orang putihs (white people) we saw in two days throughout the state. Everyone wanted to know where we were from and why we could speak Malay. All were friendly and impressed that we paid for purchases and accepted change with our right hand supported at the wrist by the left hand (it’s still a habit with us). |
It says “From America to Kampung Santan: Nostalgia 44
Years Ron and Kathy (Yes, Malay is a simple language!) |
Economic Success
As we drove around, we were impressed by all the development that has occurred over the past 45 years. It was much cleaner, and we didn’t see poverty like before. Perlis is no longer the rustic pre-internet, pre-smartphone state it used to be. But hey, that’s more than okay, and we are happy for the state and its denizens. That’s what economic development is all about, although it does come with more sprawl, vehicles, traffic, and pollution. Were it not for the treacherous concrete open storm sewers and lack of sidewalks, I’d rate it almost a first world country.
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Shuttered downtown Kangar. On street parking
Was eliminated so vehicles can blow through. |
Unfortunately, the suburban air conditioned shopping centers of Perlis have had a detrimental effect on Main Street Kangar, just like they do on Main Street, USA. As we paid a visit to Albert Wong, a goldsmith we knew with a shop downtown, more than half of the shops and businesses were closed and for sale.Penang
Penang island, two hours south, is a boom town. We used to take the ferry from Butterworth and enjoyed the quaint colonial architecture, and Chinese and South Indian vibe. It was our place for R&R and privacy. (Check out our before-and-after photos of the Swiss Hotel where we stayed for $2 per night). It now has two four-lane bridges and jaw-dropping residential high rises with many more under construction—at the expense of unique colonial and Chinese homes.
While there, one of the former teenagers from Kampong Santan reached out to us and we had coffee at a large shopping mall. He said we had inspired him to travel abroad, and he did. He got his PhD in automotive design in the UK and just retired as a professor at Malaysia’s Technology University. He showed up with his second wife, a PhD in textile design.
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| Dr. Mohamad Hariri and Dr. Irma |
It was a delightful conversation though we had trouble overlooking the younger second wife thing. The three of them get along well and it was fun visiting with them.
So Worth The Trip!
We are glad we came, if nothing else for the fabulous and cheap food. If we hadn’t, we would always have wondered how Malaysia—and Perlis in particular—changed. We got to experience it before it was even at a crossroad, let alone in one.
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| At Kg. Santan |
Our visit reminded us of our early marriage days and all we liked and disliked about Malaysia. We had forgotten just how hot it gets here, even though there is much more air conditioning now than back then.
Above all, it was so fun going down memory lane and reconnecting with Moee Choo, our wonderful host, Penang guide, and friend from so long ago. It has been so fun learning about growing up in a poor Chinese family of 11 in Malaysia shortly after its independence from the British, getting through the 1965 race riots, and going through recent widowhood.
