Hope and Fear upon Arrival

From 27 June

KLIA: Reflections in Marble - August 2009

Nepal Airlines flight 415 departed Kathmandu at 11:30pm. Bound for Kuala Lumpur, the plane was filled almost entirely with young Nepali men. Not including the flight attendants, you could count the number of women on one hand. Chances are high that I was the sole American on board.

This same flight operates six days a week, shuttling migrant workers out from the shadow of the Himalayas to the Malaysian capital at three degrees North of the equator and back again. Plane after plane and day after day, this is how many of Malaysia's estimated 2.2 million foreign workers enter the country.

One of the young men was sitting next to me. Like many, he clutched his passport and working papers in his hand. Over his shoulders, a pale peach scarf was loosely draped. We had received similar scarves when we entered a friend's house in Ilam as a sign of welcome and hospitality. I imagine this young man received his as he departed his home, a sign of blessing that carried with it hope for a prosperous future in Malaysia and memories of family and friends.

Approaching Kuala Lumpur in the darkness of early morning, the city lights appeared beneath us. The plane began to stir as faces were pressed against the windows taking it all in and surveying this new land that, for many, will be 'home' the next two to five years.

We arrived at 5:40 am to an empty terminal building. The air was artificially chilled and crisp while the lights from above reflected off of the cold polished floors below. A group of guys gathered at the end of one of the moving walkways, pointing and laughing before one took a first tenuous step onto it.

While the city slumbered they entered. As with their departure, nobody was there to notice their arrival.

Travel weary and blurred from lack of sleep we moved ahead. Leaving our Nepali brothers behind, we breezed through security and customs without an official so much as batting an eye. We didn't see what became of the incoming guys.

My hope is that the dreams they carry with them will be fulfilled and that the sacrifices they and their loved ones are making will be worth it - helping their families while performing much needed labor here in Malaysia.

My fear is that, as strangers in a strange land, they might find themselves quickly lost in the darkest of valleys - out of sight and out of mind, trapped in an alien environment that can be anything but hospitable.

This fear is not unfounded.

As is the case in many places, migrant and foreign workers here are often victims of exploitative practices and unadulterated acts of injustice. As a recent report from Amnesty International graphically demonstrates, the situation in Malaysia is particularly troubling and the problem is systemic.

In no uncertain terms, the Amnesty International report underscores the necessity and importance of initiatives like the Migrant Ministry Partnership that reach out to support these vulnerable brothers among us.

It also points to an area in which the Christian Community can act as a public and prophetic witness, moving beyond acts of charity to build an interfaith base of power capable of demanding system-wide change to ensure that all who enter this country are afforded basic human rights and dignity.

After all, as peoples of the book, sharing a common ancestor who was 'a wandering Aramean' and a common conviction to look after 'the least of these,' both faithful Muslims and Christians are compelled to look after the nomads, the wanderers, and the migrants in our midst.