‘What is patriotism but the love of the food one ate as a child?’ ~Lin Yutang, author of From Pagan To Christian .

'I don't like hyphenated Americans,' pouted my American-Christian friend with pretty blue-eyes and China doll looks.

‘Oh, and what's that?’ I asked.

‘You know, like African-Americans,Mexican-Americans...’ she replied, eyes welling up with tears.

‘But...but...I am Malaysian-American,’ I almost blubbered but asked instead, mildly, ‘What's American?’

‘I don't know!’ she wailed, my blue-eyed porcelain skinned American China doll.

She gave me food for thought. Mulling over her statement, I realised she was not being malicious or racist - just ignorant. Later in our conversation, she evinced this wondering aloud whether Muslims were the people with 'dots in the middle of their forehead'.

Just for the record, the people, with 'dots in the middle of their forehead' are Hindus'. My mother, my grandmothers, my aunts and mother-in-law, all wore dots in the middle of their foreheads and live or lived in the predominantly Muslim multiracial country that is Malaysia.

Once upon a time, Muslims, Hindus, Christians and Buddhists got along very well in Malaysia. It was an era that was not idyllic but people knew then how to keep both the fires of their faith and love for fellow man alive. Here is an anecdote that demonstrates this.

As a young man, my husband's father the late Dr Balasundram, a radiologist trained in the UK, renounced Malaysian citizenship and left for Sri Lanka where he obtained a scholarship to study at the University of Ceylon in the late 1940s'.

When he had completed his studies he returned to Malaysia and was doing his housemanship with Dr Mahathir Mohammed when he ran into the late and beloved Tunku Abdul Rahman, the first prime minister of Malaysia.

My father-in-law had the privilege of treating the prime minister for stomach troubles. Our beloved prime minister was so happy to be relieved of his stomach pains that he scribbled on the back of his cigarette box instructions for the registration department in Malaysia to restore my father-in-law's Malaysian citizenship. ‘Take this to the Registration Department,’ he said. It was a gentleman's extension of friendship.

There is something to be learned from this anecdote. It's profound message transcends the warring and religious politics of this day. I recount this story in the hope that we can recover this spirit in our churches, mosques, monasteries and temples.

There is a Jewish saying that goes something like this, ‘They didn't kill us, let's eat.’ In celebration of the gift of our human spirit, I made a Malaysian ‘pandan’ chiffon cake. Here I am, offering you my countrymen, new and old, ...peace.