I don't know why Malaysian Immigration Officers in Changloon, Malaysia, look down on Filipino passport holders. My brother ( a lawyer) and I flew from Manila to Bangkok, Thailand on December 28, 2010 and celebrated New Year there. After the celebration, we took the train to Hat Yai, Thailand and then rode a mini-bus (van) to Penang, Malaysia.
Exiting Thailand is smooth, though the Immigration Officer was bluntly asking for 1 Ringgit which I flatly declined, telling him I have no Ringgit yet. I don't want to consent corruption. Besides, I am just on a holiday! For God's sake!
Since our flight back to Manila is from Kuala Lumpur we had to carry our heavy luggages and present our passport at the immigration counter.
When we reached the Immigration counters in Changloon, Malaysia. I followed my mini-bus co-passengers in line, we were asking each other if we need to fill up an immigration form because there was no form in sight. The counters were in chaos.
Since the room was in chaos due to the arrival of many inbound passengers, we had no one to ask for help. My co-passengers standing ahead of me in line were Caucasians. One is an American solo backpacker who will just make a U-turn from Thailand to Malaysia and back to Thailand ( she loves Thailand so much and she just wanted to re-enter Thailand with a fresh visa) and a German girl who also need a fresh visa. The immigration officer at the counter gave them a 90-day visa without any question. Following me in line was a Thai girl with her Korean BF, and then a German guy, followed by my brother. ( All of them were given a 90-day visa except me and my brother.)
When my turn came, I presented my passport to the immigration officer with a smile and a friendly "Good afternoon." She returned the greeting, a smile briefly flickering across her face. Then, as her eyes scanned my Philippine passport, the smile vanished. "Are you entering Thailand?" she asked, her tone turning neutral.
"No, ma'am," I replied, maintaining my smile. "I'm actually on my way to Penang, Malaysia. I just came from Hat Yai in Thailand." (The frustration was already bubbling inside me. Why else would I be here in this sweltering immigration room if I wasn't exiting Thailand?) She nodded curtly and exchanged a few words with the officer beside her in Malay, their conversation leaving me feeling a little out of the loop.
Sensing a shift in the interaction, I reached into my bag and retrieved our return tickets from Kuala Lumpur back to Clark Field in the Philippines. Her eyes flicked down to them, scrutinizing the details for a moment before she scanned my passport again. The return tickets then made their way to the other officer, who held them up and asked, "So, you'll be flying to the Philippines on January 5th via Kuala Lumpur?"
"Yes, that's correct," I replied, trying to maintain a sense of ease despite the growing tension.
(Internally, I rolled my eyes. Was she simply confirming what was printed on the ticket she was holding?) She pressed on, "How long will you be staying in Malaysia?"
"Just a few days," I answered. "We're only here on holiday."
Her gaze lingered on my passport for a beat longer than necessary. "Why so many stamps?" she inquired.
"We travel quite a bit," I explained with a smile. "Actually, we love traveling, my brother and I are travel bloggers."
A tense silence filled the air as she turned to the officer holding my passport. He handed it to her, and she proceeded to flip through the pages once more, her expression unreadable. Finally, she returned it to him with a curt nod, and they spoke again in hushed Malay. My heart hammered a little faster in my chest. What were they discussing?
After what felt like an eternity, she turned back to me. "We will allow you a seven-day stay," she declared, her voice devoid of warmth.
Relief washed over me. "That's perfectly fine," I responded quickly, eager to put this ordeal behind me. "We only have reservations for two nights in Penang anyway, and then we'll be heading to Kuala Lumpur for our flight home."
Another exchange in Malay followed, punctuated by the officer scribbling something on a form. Then, with a final, almost reluctant stamp on my passport, she handed it back. A wave of exhaustion washed over me, along with a flicker of annoyance. The process had taken an unnecessarily long time, leaving me drained and questioning the purpose of the extra scrutiny.
Hungry, tired and pissed off at the shabby treatment that I got, I then proceeded to the exit and placed my heavy luggage at the x-ray machine and waited for my brother at the exit since we were not allowed to wait at the immigration counter as everyone who travels frequently knows.
Grabbing my passport, I barely managed a mumbled "thank you." Honestly, I couldn't muster the energy to check if everything was in order. The entire journey had been a marathon - an 18-hour train ride from Bangkok to Hat Yai, followed by a three-hour walking tour that left my feet screaming. The final blow? A 5-hour mini-bus journey to Penang with our luggage feeling like lead weights. My usual meticulousness, my "OC self" as I call it, had vanished somewhere between Hat Yai and the border. All I could think about was collapsing onto a comfy bed. Honestly, it's a miracle a potent concoction of Enervon and Vitamin C kept me from succumbing to a full-blown meltdown. Somehow, I'd managed to stand upright through it all, but let's just say fainting wasn't far from my mind.
When we reached our hotel in Georgetown, Penang, Malaysia, it was already around 7:00 p.m. I was very tired, hungry and pissed off as I can't get over the shabby treatment that I got from the immigration officer at Changloon. I was asking my brother why did the Malaysian Immigration in Changloon, gave me a shabby treatment ( he was also given 7 days but unlike me, he was given a transit visa) in complete contrast to the Thailand immigration officers who were always polite, kind and soft spoken.
I then opened my passport and saw that the Changloon Immigration Officer had put two stamps on my passport: first (1) is the 7 days permit with a note SPTUM ( I don't know what that means!) then the second (2) stamp that says, TO REPORT TO IMMIGRATION OFFICE KUALA LUMPUR FOR VISA/ CLEARANCE.
Geez! That immigration Officer is such a pain in the neck. Why did she put that? What was she thinking? Why did she never explain that entry to me? My mind began to wonder, what if they detain me? I didn't do anything wrong! Why do I have to report at the imigration office in KL? My Penang vacation was ruined! I was doomed! I needed to report to the Immigration Office in Kuala Lumpur ASAP! I tried to convince myself to relax, my mind refused to listen. I wanted to scream with all my might and cried RACISM!
I asked the receptionist if we could refund our payment for the second night for we have to go to Kuala Lumpur earlier than schedule. He said whether we use the room or not we still have to pay for it. No ifs no buts! Uhuh! That is how many Ringgit! Sayang naman! Anak ng tinapang buhay ito, dapat mag e-enjoy kami sa Georgetown, Penang! Bakit naman kailangan ko pang mag report at mag research sa internet kung saan lupalop sa Kuala Lumpur matatagpuan ang Immigration Office nila. Hay buhay! Di ko magawang mag relax, di ko magawang lumunok ng pagkain kaka worry kung ano ang kasalanan ko at bakit ko kinakailangan mag report sa KL immigration office nila. Tumaas talaga ang dugo ko, na high blood ako!
Kahit pagod, puyat at walang pahinga, nag send ako ng message sa
kaibigan kong Malaysian, baka sakaling may maitulong siya, at sa aking kaklase noon college na naka pag asawa ng Malaysian.
Nagyayang kumain ang aking kapatid sapagkat wala pa kaming kinain halos sa buong araw na yun at halos walang tulog dahil sa napakagalaw na train galing sa Bangkok, Thailand.
Hindi ako nakatulog gaano, kakaisip kung ano ang nagawa kong mali at bakit ko kailangan mag report. Nagigising ako kada ikalawang oras. Kinabukasan, maghahanap kami sa internet kung saan ang address ng KL immigration. Pinilit ko na iwaksi sa aking isipan ang tatak sa aking passport, pinilit kong e-enjoy ang pagkain at mga lugar sa Georgetown, ngunit kahit anong pilit ko na iwaksi sa aking isipan ang pangyayari, ito ay parang multong nakasunod sa aking isipan. It is just like a cloud over my head, making me feel restless, annoyed, angry and what have you!
Despite the rain the following day, we proceeded with our walking tour, we scouted for the best rate from US Dollars to Ringgit and Pesos to Ringgit and compared where we could get the best deal. We went around Penang, then cut short our trip to return to our hotel to research for the KL immigration address.
Then I got a reply from both my friend and former classmate. My Malaysian friend said, "Oh my God!", she wondered what happened, and said maybe the immigration misunderstood me. My former seatmate/classmate said, I have nothing to worry about, but still, both of them said that I still have to report to KL immigration.
The encouraging words from my Malaysian friend and classmate made me feel a little bit relax. My brother then suggested that we go to Georgetown Immigration Office and asked them about the stamp on my passport. But based on the net, the immigration office closes at 5:30 p.m. So kailangan, ipagpabukas na ulit ang pagpunta. Kasi unang una, never pa namin narating yun before, so maghahanap pa kami, baka kapusin na sa oras, kaya ipagpabukas na lang para mas sigurado. My brother took note of the address and look for it in the map. I had another sleepless night, I hardly tasted the food in Penang. For God's sake who would feel okay while awaiting judgement day at the immigration. I had no clue why do I had to endure all this because of my Philippine passport! I know for a fact, that at the school of passport privileges, the Philippines doesn’t sit at the table where popular kids like Germany, Singapore, South Korea or the US have their lunch. But to be treated this way is UNFAIR!
The following day we went to the immigration office in Penang. Upon seeing the stamp the immigration lady staff asked for my old passport. I said I left it in the Philippines. Then she asked me when did I arrived at Penang. I said I arrived January 2, 2011 at around 7:00 p.m. from Thailand. She then talk to another officer who then referred me to another immigration officer. The latter then escorted me to another room where my brother followed us fearing for my safety. The immigration officer got my passport and then asked me the same question the woman immigration staff asked in the other room. He then turned to another immigration officer. They talked in Malay while browsing my passport. After forever, he turned to me and laughed and then talked to another officer. He told me that he also find it weird that the Changloon Immigration Officer stamped my passport with only 7 days entry and with notation that I report to their KL office when in fact I should have been given a 30-day visit visa for tourist. He also suggested that I go to the immigration office in Kuala Lumpur and look for the boss and tell him there might have been a misunderstanding.
I felt a little bit relieved but despise the fact that I STILL HAVE TO REPORT IN KUALA LUMPUR IMMIGRATION AND CUT SHORT MY VACATION!!!
The Georgetown Immigration officer is kind and even pose for a photo as an evidence that I already reported to them. We then took the earliest possible bus from Georgetown to Kuala Lumpur Malaysia. The published five (5) hours trip turned out to seven (7) hours trip in reality. Geez! Sigh!
Fast forward to January 5, 2011, the immigration officer stamped my passport and cleared me for exit from Malaysia. But when he saw the stamp in my passport stating that I need to report to the Immigration Office in Kuala Lumpur, he asked me to go to his boss at LCCT if I want to be assured that there will be no problem the next time I enter Malaysia.
The immigration boss there looked at my passport and asked me questions which I readily answered. He browse the pages of my passport one by one. He then said he will let me go. ( Aba dapat lang kasi wala akong violation!)
I asked the immigration Boss what did I do to deserve such treatment? He said there were many Illegal Filipino Workers who just make a U-turn. And since I have so many stamps on my passport, ( I travel a lot to different countries) the immigration officer in Changloon perceived me to be one of those tourist workers.
He said Filipinos usually stay illegally in Malaysia. He offered no apology whatsoever and asked me to go straight to the gate. What was he thinking? That I am going to make a U-turn? IS THIS WHAT THEY CALL SELAMAT DATANG MALAYSIA? CALLING THE TOURISM MALAYSIA PEOPLE, IS THIS HOW YOU WELCOME LEGIT FILIPINO TOURIST? SHOULD I ADVISE MY FELLOW FILIPINO TOURISTS NOT TO GO TO MALAYSIA BECAUSE THE IMMIGRATION OFFICERS HAD ALREADY CLASSIFIED US, PHILIPPINE PASSPORT HOLDERS, AS TOURIST WORKERS? I FELT HELPLESS, I FELT HUMILIATED, I FELT VIOLATED. I hope somebody would admit that they are treating Philippine passport holders like shit and trying to use 'the rules' in their own twisted interpretation. So I guess, it is not only the corrupt taxi drivers in Malaysia that shows third world mentality but also some Immigration officers who are racists.
