‘Not all those who wander are lost.’
– J.R.R Tolkien
Even though Chinese New Year has passed, I still want to wish all my Chinese friends and those I have known throughout my life – a happy Chinese New Year.
Many things about this country disturb me and I thought a trip down memory lane might trigger better feelings, greater hope and maybe even cast a better reflection upon all of us today.
I would like to thank the many Chinese men and women who have crossed my path over the years and helped make me who I am now.
While I cannot name them all as memory fails me, their faces still linger clearly in my mind, along with their actions.
One of my earliest memories goes back to the ’90s when I started boarding school in Teng Bukap, Padawan.
After registration, a Chinese shopkeeper took my family in and gave them a place to stay for a few days.
My father, convinced I’d get myself kicked out, prepared for the worst—just in case.
I remember thinking the owner must be rich as the house contained a lot of furniture and appliances that I had only seen through his shop windows.
Then of course there were all my Chinese teachers during my primary school years, there were no Malay teachers taught me at the time.
During my secondary school years, I remember a gardener we all called ‘Apek’ — always smiling, always kind.
Every morning, he’d give me a ride on his Yamaha SS2.
There was also one Chinese teacher named Lester who taught us English.
He was blind but could recognise anyone by their voice.
After five years—and one expulsion, I moved to a new secondary school in the city and I remember all the faces of the Chinese teachers who taught me every subject, including Bahasa Malaysia.
One teacher in particular stood out.
He was in charge of my class — the last one on the list, where all the troublemakers landed.
We lagged in everything, but I still managed to crush math and additional math while flunking everything else.
One day, he finally let me solve problems my way.
No more mindless “Follow this formula” nonsense.
I hated that—it held my brain back.
Why slog through long-winded proofs when I could nail them in two or three sharp, elegant steps?
I also remember my Bahasa Malaysia teacher who spoke excellent Malay.
There are only two actual names I can recall, Miss Chong Lih Na and Madam Khor Su Bee.
Sadly, Khor has passed away.
I used to joke about her name, “Su Bee,” because in the Bidayuh language, it means ants.
She never seemed to bother, though.
When I won a scholarship to pursue my Master in Econometrics in the US, it was Sibu Foochow, now a DBS banker, Julia Goh, who helped me acclimatise to life in New York City.
I still remember Julia’s words when I first arrived, still jetlagged and exhausted, “You rehat dulu dan kalau lapar boleh saja ambil apa-apa noodle dari kitchen ini” (rest first and if you’re hungry just help yourself to any of the noodles in this kitchen).
Looking back now, I just realised I still owe her five packets of noodles!
A few months later, there was a Kappa Mu Epsilon (KME) gathering at the university, where I somehow ended up talking (okay, stuttering) to an equally brilliant and pretty Chinese girl.
I told her I was impressed with her work on algebraic structures in IPOs and she lit up, saying she and her father were just as intrigued by my predictive model.
It wasn’t until weeks later that I learned she was the daughter of the chairman of Malaysia’s fifth-largest banking group by assets.
What most people don’t know is that if Goldman Sachs (GS) hadn’t made me a lucrative offer, I would’ve taken hers and worked at the bank instead.
Throughout my 14 years at GS, I’ve had fewer than twenty Chinese colleagues led by Winnie Hsu.
We worked well together, but they respectfully distanced themselves from the overwhelmingly white workforce, which made up about 95 per cent of the staff.
Two Chinese men had a great impact on my later life.
One was my gastroenterologist, Dr Lau, who helped me recover from a severe stomach condition.
The other was Dr Jimmy, a performance coach who guided me through two brutal years of dealing with work stress – my career would have ended without his help.
In fact, without these two gentlemen, I doubt I would have survived medically or mentally.
I would also like to honour and thank all the media outlets (mostly led by Chinese men and women) that trusted me to be a contributor during the early days of the New Economic Model (NEM) programme launched by then-Prime Minister Datuk Seri Najib Razak in the run-up to the 2013 general election.
For almost a decade, these online and print media outlets carried my ideas, thoughts and explanations for some of the social, educational and economic issues plaguing the country.
It wasn’t easy at first.
Rejection after rejection, rewrite after rewrite, I slowly got the hang of writing in clear, natural English.
I’ll never forget that phone call from The Nut Graphs (TNG).
The editor pointed out odd phrases, redundancies and abrupt jumps—things I had never considered.
When I asked what she meant, she burst out laughing.
Then there was the business editor from New Straits Times (NST)—whose name, regrettably, I can’t recall. Thank you.
After what felt like a hundred requests, he finally agreed to meet me one evening at Edward Soo’s restaurant in Bangsar.
Over dinner, he patiently broke down the art of writing with precision, structure, and simplicity — how to take an analytical approach and turn it into a compelling story that sticks.
At one point, he even admitted he was surprised.
Why would a quant analyst chase down a newspaper editor for a writing lesson?
I had my reasons. And I’m grateful he made the time.
A special shout out to Merdeka Review, TNG, NST, Malaysiakini and Sarawak Tribune.
The life of one Bidayuh boy and man owes much to the strength of multiculturalism everywhere.
This is the true secret to our social, economic and spiritual success, if only we could see with our hearts always.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune.
