In the bustling city centre of Kuala Lumpur, if you walk through the front door of the Kota Raya Shopping Complex, turn left into a dusky corner, and you will see a small shop painted pink.

The wall of the shop is decorated with several posters of stylish models and large mirrors that reflect the face of the barbers and their customers.

This is a Filipino hair salon. The tiny shop is usually crowded during weekends, with customers sitting on chairs outside the shop, waiting for their turn for a haircut, manicure or foot massage.

On weekdays, there will be fewer customers. The hairdressers will chit-chat on the sofas outside the shops, making fun of one another.

If you happen to pass by during this time, they will greet you warmly, or even wink at you. If you try to run away from their teasing, they will burst into laughter.

I always replied with an awkward smile, then she will ask: “You can still be my boyfriend even if you have a girlfriend!” Then Jemmy and her friends will laugh out loud.

Looking out of the shop, you will notice a long queue in front of a remittance company.

This is where migrant workers send most of their salary back to their hometown, and they will use the remainder for their living expenses in Malaysia.

The second and third floors of the Kota Raya Shopping Complex is a Filipino girls’ shopping paradise. There are also a few Filipino restaurants where migrant workers gather.

Sometimes, they will use the karaoke machine in the restaurant to sing their favourite Filipino love songs.

If you continue to walk up to the fourth floor, you will see gaming centres, snooker rooms and internet cafes.

One Nepalese restaurant which sells “Himalayan Cuisine” stands out from the rest on the street.

As such, it is easier for them to communicate with each other, hence there are some Nepalese living in Bangla Market, and most of them run catering businesses.

Sometimes, Ambi is annoyed by her customers: “After work, Nepalese workers will come here to drink beer; after they get drunk, they started to tease our female workers, or curse them with bad words.”

Migrants want a better life

In fact, migrant workers are like the locals: they all hope to live a better life and find a sense of belonging in the community they are attached to. They do not wish to face exclusion.

When a Chinese shopkeeper from Petaling Street is being interviewed, she said: “They (migrant workers) also need to look for their livelihood, very similar to the Malaysians who went to other countries to work; everyone is hoping to get a better job.”

Walking along Petaling Street, I can’t stop but think about the history of the Chinese migration. I notice that the conditions of the migrant workers and the ancestors of the Chinese who travelled to Southeast Asia are extremely similar.

During the end of Qing dynasty, the British colonial government was developing the mining industry in Malaya and it needed manpower. The Chinese came to work as coolies in the mines.

And now, driven by global capital and market forces, migrant workers from different backgrounds are flocking to Malaysia, yet again.

According to a book named ‘The History of Kuala Lumpur’s Chinese‘ written by Wen Guzhi, Kota Raya today was a gathering place of Chinese migrants before.

“……The area near Jalan Silang is also known as ‘The Flower Street’, Flower means prostitutes…”

“There was a triangle-shaped open space in Jalan Tun Tan Cheng Lock, which is now the Kota Raya Shopping Complex, it was bazaar with a row of stalls.”

When the development around the Kota Raya area became saturated, the city centre began to shift; the economic and business zones began to expand to surrounding areas, while Kota Raya slowly became a Chinese traditional community, abandoned by the locals.

When most of the Chinese moved out, the houses and shops of Kota Raya were rented to migrant workers, and became an enclave in the middle of the city centre, for migrant workers to build their life, and helped Kota Raya regain some of its lost economic lustre.

But Bikek‘s girlfriend, a domestic worker, can only take a day off once a month and each outing lasts just four to five hours at a time.

When asked what they normally do on their dates, a smile spreads across Bikek‘s face.

“We will find a hotel near Kota Raya and rent a room for three to four hours, and do bad things,” said the Nepali teenager with a glint in his eyes.

But Bikek shook his head when asked about his future plans, and whether he will go back to Nepal or to the Philippines with his girlfriend.

“We don’t know what we are going to do in the future, we don’t dare to think about it,” he said.

Filipino hairdresser Jemmy is the only member of her extended family who isn’t married, nor does she have a family of her own to take care of.

For her, the best choice was to go overseas in search of greener pastures.

Jemmy’s family relies on her to earn money in Malaysia and send it back to them; only then will her nephews and nieces have a chance to study.

Left with no choice but to leave her hometown, she broke up with her lover of many years.

As we spoke, Jemmy would often ask, half-jokingly: “Can you introduce me to a nice guy?”

“You haven’t met one after so long in Malaysia?” I asked.

On Sundays, Lussie goes to St John’s Cathedral to pray. After service ends, she attends classes organised by the church, which include yoga, guitar lessons, nursing and modern dance lessons. Gifted with a voice, Lussie decided to join the choir.

Once lessons are over, she helps massage her friends; many female Filipino workers do housework from morning to night, leaving their bodies and muscles aching, said Lussie.

Lussie said she learned basic massaging skills from a class at the church, so her friends often come to her with their aches and pain.

On the day I spoke to her, Lussie stayed back in the classroom. Once everyone had left, she picked up a guitar and began to sing a lovely Filipino song.

“What is this song about?” I asked.

Putting the guitar down, she told me in her soft, gentle voice: “This song is called ‘Napakasakit Kuya Eddie’ (Eddie my friend, my heart is painfully hurt). It tells the story of a Filipino who works hard in a foreign country, while always missing his hometown.

“Looking at the broken family, he asked his friend Eddie: ‘Bro, what should I do?’”

As Lussie resumed her singing, her sadness was apparent, even though I did not understand the words.

The Selangor Mansion

An old building, the Selangor Mansion‘s first floor houses an Indian mamak restaurant and several stalls selling an assortment of items, from Indian magazines to fruits.

This place also has the best roti canai in town, or so I heard.

Following the crowd into the building, I was met with a pungent, spicy smell, mixed with a slightly uncomfortable stink.

The peculiar smell led me to a staircase to the second floor. It became stronger as I found myself in a nine-floor apartment complex, its upper floors crammed with people.

The Selangor Mansion‘s first and second floors house grocery shops, barber shops, offices and mamak restaurants – all of life’s necessities packed in the two levels.

I asked some Bangladeshis lounging in the corridor how much their rental cost. Their answer took me aback. The small, substandard rooms can cost up to RM500 per month, which they share with three to four roommates per unit.

Threats and violence

But for undocumented migrant workers, it doesn’t matter whether they are involved in illegal businesses or not – they constantly worry about being harassed by enforcement officers.

Burmese Nadhin came to Malaysia to escape the fighting in Myanmar, but she didn’t manage to get a refugee card, never mind a valid working permit.

She joins one of the most vulnerable groups in the migrant community: the undocumented immigrants.

Each time her employers exploit her or officers harass her, Nadhin can only swallow the bitter experience.

He said many Burmese working in foreign countries were delighted by the regime change in Myanmar, and hoped it meant they could return home sooner.

“We all look forward to the government led by Aung Sang Suu Kyi, we will observe for a few more years, if the situation in Myanmar becomes better, we will go back.”

Nepalese Bikek hopes to leave Malaysia for richer countries, such as Japan or South Korea, where he believes he will receive better pay, allowing him to return home earlier.

The falling ringgit, the worsening public security, and fears for their safety make Malaysia an undesirable place, he said.

Shuleh said many of his friends had gone to work in countries that were more friendly to migrant workers, such as Saudi Arabia.

The Malaysian government prohibits migrant workers from bringing their family members along, and employers don’t encourage them to visit their home country, he said.

Nadhin said migrant workers are not only targeted by enforcement officers; they often face harassment from local taxi drivers and gangsters.

“When we take the taxi, some drivers will ask us to hand over our money and handphones, or they will lock the doors and not allow us to get off.

 

“When we walk on the street we get caught, when we take taxi we will face robber-like drivers, where then can we go?”

Kota Raya may be like home for them, but they still face threats and harassment each day.

The staff at the barber shop, Lily and Merry (not their real names) said:

“This place (Kota Raya) is no different from other places; maybe the safest place for us is Myanmar.”

Standing anywhere around the Bangla Market, one can see many young men. Sometimes you may come across elderly men or even kids, but you can’t find any women on that street.

Executive director of Tenaganita Glorene A Das said female migrant workers who come to Malaysia are mainly involved in sales, service industry, or the sex industry.

In a community where the Burmese and Filipinos gather, there are female barbers, domestic workers or saleswomen.

However, we can’t seem to find a girl or a woman in Bangla Market.

Bound by debts

In order to solve her family’s economic crisis, she asked her mother to take care of the kids and she came to Malaysia alone, hoping that she will find a good job through agents.

When she first came to Malaysia, she worked as a cleaner, but soon she found the job not as what her agent described. The agent had promised Nilah that she would work five days a week, but the cleaning company only allowed her to work for two days.

Nilah could not make enough money, not enough even to eat. She just wished she could leave and go back home. But she can’t because of the debts she owed the agent, which binds her.

Then the agent suggested to Nilah to try the sex industry. Sex workers don’t have to worry about their livelihood and they can pay their debts in the shortest period of time.

Out of desperation, Nilah consented, and she prayed that she could survive the three months.

Nilah began to receive customers, in the small and smelly room. She had to serve five to 10 men a day. When she has no client, Nilah will stand in front of her room, soliciting for customers.

She will provide the services and the pimp will collect the money from customers.

The pimp will haggle with the customers – RM20 for sexual intercourse, an extra RM10 for taking off her clothes, and another RM40 for “ice-cream service” (blowjob).

But Nilah won’t get a cent. Half will go to the owner of the brothel, and the rest to Nilah’s agent. Nilah will get extra money only if her customers pay her tips. She will give that money to the pimps who will buy her food.

Even on her off days, Nilah would not leave the dusky building. At night, she can’t even sleep in the room she works because the brothel runs 24 hours a day.

There will be another girl working in the same room for the night shift. So Nilah and other girls will be squeezed into a crowded and closed room.

About her future, Nilah said helplessly: “I don’t have any idea, I just want to pay the debts and go home.”

Through the cultural mapping of migrant workers in Kota Raya, we saw a fluid community which is full of energy, but we also saw its dark corners.

The Chinese came to British-ruled Malaya as migrants.

And every morning, many Malaysian workers travel to Singapore to seek a better life.

We claim we are owners of the land and begin to exclude the “migrant workers” who came later.

Many people have described Kota Raya as being “invaded” or “colonised”. But when they consider themselves as “victims”, they can be “oppressors” as well.

But we look up to foreign talents in upper class positions and label them “expats“.

Are we all not human beings, wishing and working for a better life?