Welcome to the Mamak

“My folks aren’t too cool about me interning in a potential war-zone,” Nour said with a shrug at the dinner table.

“You should go to Malaysia then! We have NGOs there, too!” said Khalisah’s mom eagerly. Khalisah and Nour exchanged a look of interest that conveyed the possibility of working and living together in a vibrant city; a look that glinted with the opportunity of independence, new people, unintelligible languages, spicy food, wacky culture and –

“Argh!” Khalisah flinched. “We haven’t even looked into anything in Malaysia together! The deadline for internships is a few weeks away! It’ll never happen.” Nour continued to smile. “It’ll never happen, Nour.” The smile got wider. Khalisah narrowed her eyes as she said, “I’ll believe it when I see the plane tickets.”

–

Hi, we’re Khalisah Stevens and Nour Merza, the authors of the Mamak Chronicles.  At the end of last spring semester (in between paper deadlines, exams and failed fax machines in Syria) we found ourselves hanging in internship limbo. Our university requires all third-year students to get a summer of training with an approved organization – without such an internship, we would not be able to graduate with our classmates the following year. As our deadline was fast approaching, our chances of getting an internship were fast receding. We were about to resign ourselves to a sweltering summer in Dubai when an email came through.

“It is with great pleasure that we inform you of your acceptance into the Mercy Malaysia Internship Program for the summer of 2009.”

We were psyched.

Mercy Malaysia is a non-profit organization that provides immediate relief to crisis situations around the world. With a background in international relations, we were both interested in aid work, and Mercy Malaysia’s credentials put it right up our street. The organization has projects going on across the globe, from Indonesia and Sri Lanka to Afghanistan and Iraq. Suddenly, our new theme song was “You got me begging you for Mercy, yeah, yeah!” We couldn’t wait to get started.

A few weeks later, we found ourselves in the heart of Kuala Lumpur, battling train, bus and taxi to make our way to and from the office; a process that begins every day at six a.m. and can end as late as nine p.m. Tiring? Yes.

Luckily for us, we find solace in the marvel that is the mamak. Found on every street corner, mamak stalls are greasy havens that provide locals and tourists alike a place to eat, congregate, and watch the latest match between Barcelona and Manchester United. It is in these mamaks where we begin our day with yawns and egg roti chennai, and end our evenings rehashing the events of the last fourteen hours amid the warm bustle of waiters taking orders, cats scavenging for scraps under tables, and motorcycles beeping as they zip by.

These nighttime discussions gave birth to the Mamak Chronicles. So pull up a chair, order a round of cool teh ais, and follow the accounts of our adventures – and misadventures – in Malaysia.