COMMENT | I learnt my mother’s mother tongue for the sake of learning gossip. Every other weekend of my childhood was spent making phone calls to her relatives and friends, inviting them over for lunch.

The common denominator between the two groups would be their Sarawakian, if not Bidayuh, heritage.

Separated from their families who were now an ocean away, they had sought to forge a new community of their own in the sprawling and forever-growing metropolis that is Kuala Lumpur, their new home.

These invitations to touch base over warm bowls of sago (normally served with sardines and tempoyak) were always a welcome opportunity for my aunties to unwind briefly as their children and I wreaked havoc in my downtown Ampang neighbourhood.

The topics of conversation ran the gamut from...