Are We Born to Serve? An Ethnic Minority Learns and Grows: ARE WE BORN TO SERVE?, #1

By Miranda P. YEOH

What is it like to be an ethnic minority born into an extended Peranakan family that has seen better days? What opportunities would the author have? In the book: "Are We Born to Serve? An Ethnic Minority Learns and Grows," Miranda P. Yeoh shares her story of resiliency and dedication to God, science, learning, and honoring her family values.

 

In her formative years in Penang, Miranda lived with her extended family. Family tensions were the norm, and she learned to accept relationships that did not bring happiness. Her responsible father encourages her early learning with his library of Classics Illustrated. Growing up in this densely populated multi-cultural melting pot of the Asia-Pacific, Miranda has a keen sense of her ancestry and culture. She realizes that learning to cook, sew, and garden from her knowledgeable Grandma was necessary to prepare her for a fruitful life of serving others. Miranda converts to Christianity despite her original Chinese religion and being a godchild of the Taoist deity of culture, literature, and learning. Spiritual exercises provide guidance, while the secular knowledge from the Psychology and Biochemistry courses impacted her understanding of relationships and mental and physical health.

 

The author discusses the challenges of her growing years and her struggle for an opportunity for higher education. She shares her Peranakan culture and its fusion food. It will give readers some understanding of the history of Penang (Malaysia) and why it has become a Food Paradise. The author hopes the details, context, and illustrations will allow readers (including minorities and educators interested in Penang and its fusion food, the Peranakan culture, and Christians) to connect with and find her story, lessons, and experiences overcoming issues as an ethnic minority pertinent to their lives. Get the book!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Miranda P. YEOH
• Release date: Dec 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215188293

Book preview

ALSO BY THE AUTHOR:

The Award-Winning Book, Poems Pave Our Lives

DEDICATION

To my family, church family, friends, beloved teachers, and colleagues at KHS, SMKSK, KMS, SGBC, FERC, and SEAMEO RECSAM,

To my research colleagues on ResearchGate (and Facebook) and ex-students, faithfully serving in several corners of this planet,

And for all my readers.

PROLOGUE

The United Nations is concerned about promoting inclusion through social protection. Although there is no internationally agreed definition of an ethnic group, the UN describes the general features of an ethnic group, including a common language, culture, and religion or beliefs. An ethnic minority refers to a member of a group in a country where they are non-dominant or less than half the entire population. However, its members will work to preserve the distinctive features of the group, although the marginalization of ethnic minorities is often the norm (UN, 2018).

In many cases, we become minorities due to the choice of our ancestors to settle in a country hundreds of years ago. For 600 years, my ancestors lived and served in this land. Hence, they provide the title of my book: Are We Born to Serve?

Do you think that six centuries is a long time? After 20 generations, we believe we are citizens because we have integrated into the community. We have the same passport, but some may still consider us Immigrants.

Some of us - ethnic minorities - had great satisfaction when Obama became the US President in 2008 and served two terms. We were elated when a second-generation American - Kamala Harris, officially became the vice president in 2021. These persons are great inspirations to all who are ethnic minorities. Do minorities only get acceptance and opportunities in nations like the US, the UK, some countries in Europe, Australia, New Zealand, and Singapore? Will other countries be more inclusive?

What is at stake for you and me in places where governments do not work for the needs of all citizens, including minorities? What educational and career paths will minorities have? What is available to them? And what will happen to the majority who receive ample opportunities? Would the majority develop an attitude of entitlement? Would they expect a free lunch? And would members of the minority also adopt a spirit of entitlement should they prosper?

This book is about my experiences growing up with an extended family in a land where my ancestors lived for six centuries. My Peranakan forefathers left China to accompany a noble lady to Malacca. They brought their skills to a new land to enrich their new home. Our ancestors intermarried the local Malay women, and we share many aspects of the culture. Our Peranakan food is a fusion of our ingredients and cooking methods with local Malay spices and herbs. The mother tongue of Peranakans is Malay, although I also speak English and Hokkien/Fukien at home. But would I be treated like an immigrant?

Aside from the challenges of my ethnicity, I had issues within my family. Besides poverty, there was strife when some family members did not pull together. Even in the family, there were situations of friction and sadness. At home, I had to learn to accept the areas of life that brought uncertainty and stress. Would I always lose in interactions with the selfish people from within the family and without? Would I fall for their manipulation due to my youth, my lack of understanding and wisdom? Was learning to accept the things that brought friction and unease more important than being happy?

However, I had the blessings of a wise Grandma, Dad, and Aunt. While observing them, a question creeps into my mind: Are we born to serve? From my father, I learned to find joy in reading. Soon, I loved Learning for its own sake, not just for good grades, because Learning satisfied my curiosity. But was learning to cook, sew, and garden from my knowledgeable Grandma essential in preparing me for a fruitful life?

While at University, the Scriptures challenged me to seek the kingdom of heaven. Would I learn that righteousness should be my priority rather than happiness? Would the wisdom of the Scriptures be more valuable than gold? Would it enable me to find fulfillment in serving God and others?

Aside from that, how would the secular knowledge I obtained in the Science with Education course impact my understanding of myself and others? I majored in biochemistry at the University. I had a minor in biology. I also learned physics, chemistry, and math. Would the knowledge of science and research shape my interests in medicine and health? And how would my understanding of the Psychology in Education courses affect my psyche and my choice of friends? Would it help me choose healthy relationships? Would the knowledge lessen my childhood trauma? Would Learning equip me to serve with joy despite external circumstances?

I am writing this memoir to share the scenes of my childhood, schooling years, and years in the University in the context of several national and global events so that readers can relate to them. I hope my book may be helpful to anyone who has a less-than-perfect childhood and growing years, especially someone who also happens to be an ethnic minority.

I wish to share my story, although it’s not always pretty. I want to share the precious lessons I have learned. My past does not always make me proud - there are points in my story I wish were different. But I have learned from it. I have learned how to live, or not to live, the rest of my days. I hope the pain and injustices we may have suffered within the family and from without may teach us to say in difficult times: This too shall pass. I also believe that racism stems from self-interest (Thomas, 2020), and if I only serve my community, I would be just as guilty. There’s no courage in being racist. But there’s courage in selfless acts to all who need charity regardless of ethnicity and color. My neighboring country in the south, Singapore, prospers while firmly rejecting racism.

In the present day, you and I may rejoice that several prominent leaders in various countries around the globe are concerned about serving the larger national and global community and not just the interests of a particular ethnic community or political group. I hope this book will inspire other minorities and challenge us to serve others as sorrowful yet always rejoicing, as poor yet making many rich, as having nothing yet possessing all things (2 Corinthians 6:10, NASB).

Above all, I hope it’s clear that the events and the timing of the events I describe in this book did not unfold haphazardly or as I wished. Perhaps we may see these events guided by the hand of a heavenly Father. I pray that His wisdom shines with luster on these pages amidst my ignorance and flaws. May the grace and mercy of the Lord Jesus be magnified.

CHAPTER 1  

PRE-SCHOOL DAYS

Ispent my preschool years with my extended family, living in the strife and tension that the situation brought. We were a bag of unconverted sinners, at least three families in one house. Our family home was on Gladstone Road, Penang; the road no longer exists today. At one time, the road connected Magazine Road Circle to Carnarvon Road Circle. However, Gladstone Road disappeared (with its houses, shophouses, and temples) because of development and town re-planning. 

Gladstone Road used to exist where the present large complex named KOMTAR stands today. The seemingly circular KOMTAR tower is a 12-sided cylinder designed to provide civic, administrative, and commercial space. The complex bears the name of the second Prime Minister of the nation. As for my name, I should say that Dad got my first name (Miranda) from The Tempest by William Shakespeare. Yeoh is my family name. 

My Extended Family

EXTENDED FAMILY SITUATIONS were frequent in those days. Grandma was the matriarch as my grandfather had passed away about fourteen years before my birth. Dad’s parents were born in Penang, a British Straits Settlement, but Grandma had ancestors and distant relatives in Malacca. Grandma loved gardening and cooking, and so did I. She only wore sarongs with a formal tailored kebaya top fastened with kerosang or decorative metal pins. But on hot days, she wore a loose cotton top fastened with press studs or tiny buttons. I have never seen her in any other attire. She was a typical Nyonya who had imbibed the culture of Peranakan (or the Baba-Nyonya), the straits-born Chinese settlers (Penang Global Tourism, 2020).  

Grandma had good skin even until her seventies. Like Dad and me, she had slightly oily skin, and she used to make bedak sejuk, a cooling rice powder mask for her face and neck. Whenever I stood near her, I would get a whiff of the fragrance of Pandanus (screw pine) leaves used to prepare the mask pellets. The bedak sejuk mask was an ancient beauty regime of Peranakan women, the Nyonya. But it was usually worn on the face and neck as a mask in the evening or at night. When I was little, I would be startled to see a white face in the dim light until she called my name. I associated many scents with Grandma, the aromas of the spices, and the mouth-watering food my family loved.  

Dad was the youngest of thirteen children. He was born in 1930. Besides teaching me to speak and read English, Dad did several other things. Dad worked as a school clerk. But at heart, he was an educator. He began building up a library, keeping the books carefully in cardboard boxes that he got from the provision shops. Dad said that the boxes were a temporary home for his beloved books. One day, they would be on shelves and in cupboards.

Dad had many thick cover books. He bought a couple more each month on his meager salary. He loved books: Uncle Tom’s Cabin, written by Harriet Beecher Stowe; Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea and Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne; and Treasure Island, Kidnapped, and Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. Dad also had English translations of The Iliad and The Odyssey: the epic poems of Homer. Dad was immersed in another world when reading on weekends, and he would chuckle as he read each favorite book. 

AT FOUR YEARS OLD, the contents of the library that were most appealing to me was the set of Classics Illustrated. Dad had about 30 of these beautifully illustrated stories. The stories I loved most were - A Christmas Carol, Alice in Wonderland, Gulliver’s Travels, Oliver Twist, and The Prince and the Pauper. I spent most of my childhood reading alone or with my cousin, Alice. Alice is Uncle Meng’s daughter, two years older than me. 

What will you read this weekend, Alice?

I’m not sure. I have to help Mom with the cooking. She’s slaughtering two chickens. We’re celebrating Grandma’s birthday. Did you forget?

Yeah, I forgot. But it will be nice to have Nyonya chicken curry with our rice and veggies. It’s been a while since we ate chicken.

About two months ago, I think.

Yes. You’re right. I will also help Aunt Liang to peel and cut the onions and garlic.

Help me clean up the kitchen area after the cooking; sweep and mop the kitchen too.

Okay. But we can read after dinner, right?

Yes.

AT TIMES, MARGARET would sit and read with Alice and me. Margaret would read a much thicker storybook from Dad’s collection, or she would read and memorize from a textbook. Margaret was the daughter of my Aunt Cheng Lim (Aunt CL). Margaret, my cousin, was nine years older than me.

Dad said, You must not trouble Margaret with endless questions.

But Pa, there are things I don’t understand. Margaret’s clever. Right?

You cannot ask her and waste her time. Let her have the peace and energy to study. It’s for her future good.

I see.

Margaret was studious, and I admired her. She did nothing else at home but read and do her homework. She was impatient and quick to hit out at any of us if we irritated her.

Margaret’s recent present from Dad was a writing desk with four drawers and a protective glass sheet. It was delivered with a sturdy wooden chair in the small truck of the furniture shop owner on her birthday. Dad said she would need it. Margaret was thirteen, already in Secondary school. I was four and would be in Primary school before my seventh birthday.

Dad said I would get my study table in good time, but I didn’t need it yet. I was a bit uncertain. Would I have my study table when I need it? Would Dad forget? These were silent, anxious questions in my mind. Aside from that, I had mixed feelings about Margaret. Why was she impatient with Alice and me? Did we ask too many questions? Margaret was fine with Elaine, Alice’s younger sister. But whatever I felt about Margaret couldn’t change the fact that Aunt CL was my favorite aunt who nurtured me. I needed Aunt CL because I happened to have a mother who was home about a couple of days a month. I was growing up accepting that as a norm. 

I LOVED TO LIE DOWN on my stomach and read. From my position, I could look out the window to see what was happening in the street below. It was a narrow street; most people used bicycles, trishaws, or motorcycles. If you owned a car in those days, you would be one of the wealthy folks. The Indian man who sold bread would be on his motorcycle with loaves in a cubic bin behind him.

If Grandma wished to visit Grandaunt, she would walk or hail a trishaw. With a trishaw ride, Grandma would arrive at Grandaunt’s home and step down the trishaw, just like Cinderella arriving at the ball in a carriage.

We didn’t own a car while living on Gladstone Road; we couldn’t afford to have a vehicle anymore. But I knew that Grandma could drive. She learned to drive while staying at the rural ancestral family home, where they had escaped as soon as the war began in December 1941. Our family had two cars then. Grandma had accidentally hit a coconut tree while driving. There was minimal damage, but it was an unforgettable experience, and Dad loved to relate the incident to us, the young ones who weren’t yet born.

I had an English textbook for child readers of English as a second language (ESL). It was a hand-me-down from Alice. The first lesson, with simple black and white pictures for illustration, was a simple short rhyme.

A man,

A pan,

Here is a man,

Here is a pan.

The lesson was too simple and boring. Subsequent chapters in the ESL book were just as unchallenging. But I didn’t complain; I had Classics Illustrated. I loved reading them, especially A Christmas Carol. I wouldn’t want to meet The Ghost of Christmas Present and The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, but the Ghost of Christmas Past seemed amiable. At times, I was confused by the positions of the speech bubbles. I wasn’t sure which portion should come first. Which bubble must I read first? Many words were new to me, but I was an energetic four-year-old, and when I wasn’t sure I understood the meaning of the words, the pictures helped somewhat. It was within the pages of A Christmas Carol that I learned that gruel meant boiled cereal because some terms were defined.

When Dad found some time in the late evening, he would read to me in the glow of the 40-watt incandescent bulb. Dad had said, I have no fortune to leave to you. But I will give you a good education and my best values. Even when I’m gone, you can carry on, survive, and even thrive.

Dad had seen Grandpa’s fortune misused by Meng, his older brother. Dad was doing his best to cultivate my love for reading and learning. Dad was preparing me to succeed in life. He was doing the same for Margaret and Alice.

I WAS ABOUT TO WALK across the room to get one of the copies of Classics Illustrated when my gaze landed on the glass cover of Margaret’s writing table. She had placed several photographs underneath the smooth glass sheet. A picture of her mom, my aunt CL, was on the left edge. Aunt CL was the prettiest of Grandma’s daughters. Unlike Grandma, my Aunt CL wasn’t a good cook. But Aunt was fiercely loyal to the family.

Dad made himself responsible for Aunt CL and Margaret when Margaret’s Dad left the family for a second wife, a nurse he had first met during the war (December 17, 1941 - September 3, 1945). He had befriended the nurse for a few years. Perhaps Margaret’s Dad had not purposely intended to hurt Aunt CL. But he had blamed her for the loss of two of their children who died of yellow fever. Aunt CL couldn’t care for the sick babies and placed them in the care of the nursing nuns at the nearby Convent. But unfortunately, they passed.

Aunt CL had been a faithful and helpful wife. She had accompanied him to the villages on the mainland, wherever his surveying work required him to be. Margaret was their third child, born in 1947, and the name on her birth certificate was Khoo Gaik Suan. Shortly after Margaret’s birth, her father left without providing for them. I am not about to judge Margaret’s Dad, not having met him. [We will return to this matter about Margaret’s Dad in a later chapter.]

Besides the photo of Aunt CL, there was a picture of Margaret’s class with her teacher seated in the middle of the front row. Two more rows of girls from Convent Light Street stood behind the first row in that pic. And, at the bottom left corner, there was a photo of Dad. It seemed to me that Dad’s photo was out of line. Without thinking, I pushed it with my fingernail, trying to straighten it. But it didn’t help. Instead, it caused the class photo above it to get out of line. Just then, Margaret came into the room.

Why must you touch my things?

Sorry, I wanted to straighten the photo.

Don’t lie.

She didn’t hear a thing I said. Immediately, her right arm swung out and hit my left cheek. I did not offer the other cheek; I ran to Grandma. My cheek was hot and stinging, and I cried softly. Grandma just held me and let me cry into her blouse. I knew that Margaret would complain that I was meddling with her things. She would say that I deserved a caning. But Grandma would not allow Dad to cane me. Margaret had punished me: That was enough for Grandma. Without Grandma, I can hardly imagine how much the childhood trauma could have hindered my psyche and stumbled me. But would that trauma cause me to attract abuse in later life? What did Grandma say to Margaret and Aunt CL?

I didn’t know what Grandma said. And so, I was surprised that Aunt CL was not too pleased with Margaret. She said to Margaret without raising her voice, It’s not good to have a quick temper like your dad’s.

I didn’t understand everything. I could only understand the superficial meaning of the words but not the deeper meanings when I didn’t always know the full context of what I heard. But I knew living in an extended family meant constant friction and tension. It also exposed me to the realities

Reviews for Are We Born to Serve? An Ethnic Minority Learns and Grows

[ravin kumar · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Do I expect a family to provide the best for their children? I should think so. Do we expect states and governments to provide the best for their citizens? Yes, we do. But how often do we have perfect families and perfect nations?

In this book, the author tells her story of her struggles as an ethnic minority from primary school (grade school) through varsity with seriousness and some humor. In her place, education policies favor the majority. Minorities get through if they have a supportive family or by the sweat of the brow. In her family, the author had issues with poverty and the actions of certain irresponsible close family members.

However, this book is not just about the author and her family. The book speaks and shows the author’s love for her home, Penang. The slow but sure economic progress of Penang through good state governance to become a Silicon Valley in the East and the context the author provided to events happening on an international scale (the UK, The USA, Singapore, Australia, Japan, China, the ASEAN region, and Europe) make her story highly interesting and relevant to anyone who has a relationship to Penang, Singapore, the UK, the USA, and the other stated countries or regions. Her story is inspiring to other minorities who are likely to experience a degree of discrimination.

The author discusses her love for the Peranakan culture in Penang and its fusion food. I can see she loves cooking. Reading the book gave me a better understanding of the history of Penang (Malaysia) and why it has been a Food Paradise for as long as I can remember.

The author reveals her faith in Biblical Christianity and her experiences of God’s provision and guidance. I see value in a life of faith in the living God. It’s a good read for anyone who wants to be inspired, whether or not you’re one of the Minority and whether or not you’re a believer. I’m glad to recommend this book.