Price you pay for being different

While being different can at times be fun, it can also be embarrassing. Obviously, being the only Punjabi amongst thousands of Malay pilgrims from Malaysia, I looked different.

Let me not talk about pilgrims from other parts the world, even pilgrims from Malaysia were confused as to who and what I really was. What surprised me most was when even Malaysians spoke to me in English thinking I was a Pakistani or a descendant of some desert Arab clan.

One night, while I was sitting on a bench downstairs the hotel sipping a cup of tea, a Malaysian Malay approached me and started a conversation with me in English. I played on by responding in English although I hardly understood a word he spoke. His English was horrendous. This gentleman was struggling his way out trying his best to construct one sentence after the other. Came to a point when I was about to burst into laughter, I told him in Bahasa Malaysia “takkan tak kenal orang Malaysia”? He responded “wow … pandai cakap Melayu huh”. I said “kalau dah orang Malaysia takkan tak reti cakap Melayu” and he went “astagfirullahal aziiiim betul-betul saya ingat awak orang Arab atau Pakistan”.

The episode was hilarious and we both had a good laugh. He really thought I was either an Arab or a Pakistani.

Majority of the pilgrims were confused about my identity. The Pakistanis spoke to me in Urdu and I responded. When they asked me where I was from, I told them that I was from Lahore, Pakistan. The Indians spoke to me in Hindi and I responded. When they asked me where I was from, I told them that I was from Punjab. They believed me. Not that I wanted to lie to them but to save myself time from having to explain to them about the multi racial community and multi lingual citizens of Malaysia.

Like I said earlier, being different can also bring about sticky and embarrassing moments. In Madinah, I was refused entry not only into the cafeteria and on many occasions, refused entry into Hotel itself. The guards used to came up to me and tell me that the cafeteria and Hotel was for Malaysians only and not for other nationals like me.

In Mina, the guard in charge of the Malaysian camp tugged me hard on my arm and tried to boot me out. He refused to acknowledge my name tag, the identification wrist chain and the muasasah’s rubber band that I was wearing. He insisted that I was not a Malaysian. Fellow Malaysian pilgrims had to come to my rescue by telling the guard that, while I looked different, I was a Malaysian. Obviously, he apologized when he realized his mistake but then again I don’t blame him. That’s the price I had to pay for being different.

I had no problems in Makkah since all the employees in Burj Al Abbas (the Hotel were Malaysian stayed) were Pakistanis. They were rather excited when they heard that there was an Urdu speaking Malaysian in the Hotel. I was surprised when the Hotel Manager came to my room and introduced himself to me with assurance that in the event I needed anything, I could count on him. For the next 30 days, I appointed him my agent to get me my cigarettes since there is a ban on the sale of cigarettes in Madinah and Makkah. Only locals know where to go for cigarettes.

The most interesting part was shopping. Prices plunged 50% to 60% as soon as I spoke to shop assistants in Hindi and Urdu. The most memorable story was when I was having my haircut after completing my Haj. The barber told his co-worker in Hindi to charge a Nigerian who had just completed his haircut an extra 100% so that my haircut can come free. I told the barber that what he was doing was not right and I refused his offer.

See how much fun being different can be. Do you dare to be different?