By Majangkim Office – Special Investigation
PART 1: THE NIGHT THE DOOR BROKE – AND THE MILLIONS WHO FOLLOWED
KOTA KINABALU: In the early 2000s, a young Indonesian family crossed the vast, unmonitored border between Kalimantan and Sabah — not with passports, but with hope.
They built a small shack on the outskirts of Kota Kinabalu, worked hard, and had children. Sabah was home.
Then, one night, immigration and police arrived.
In the chaos of questioning, their toddler was separated and placed in a crowded makeshift detention centre locally known as “Rumah Merah.” The parents were deported. The child stayed behind — one of hundreds of stateless minors left in legal limbo, their childhoods defined by separation and survival.
This singular story is the human face of a staggering statistic. According to official data from the Department of Statistics cited by state assemblymen, the non-citizen population in Kota Kinabalu has surged by 58.6% in just five years, from 79,100 to 125,400. Statewide, the figure exceeds 1.04 million.
These are not just numbers; they are the origin point of Sabah’s forgotten generation. With non-citizens now constituting 20.9% of Kota Kinabalu’s residents, our systems for documentation, education, and integration have been overwhelmed for decades.
PART 2: THE GROWN‑UP GHOSTS AND THE ECONOMY OF DESPERATION
Today, those children are young adults — without ICs, without schooling, without legal rights.
In interviews conducted in recent years, many describe a life in the shadows: taking odd jobs locals avoid, hiding from authorities, and feeling “like ghosts in our own land.”
And increasingly, they describe a new path: syabu.
“You feel strong when you take it,” one told me. “Then you sell it so you can eat.” This is not a moral failure; it is the logical outcome of an economy that offers no legal alternative to the excluded.
The crystal meth trade, fueled by cheap, locally produced “ubat kuat,” has seeped from urban margins into plantations and interior villages, creating a booming shadow economy.
The assemblymen’s urgent call for a government explanation is a political echo of the crisis documented on the ground: a booming, undocumented population directly fuels social instability.
PART 3: THE COST OF INACTION IS A NARCO-STATE FUTURE
We are witnessing early warnings of a narco-state trajectory. Vulnerable, excluded populations provide ready recruitment for drug syndicates.
Porous borders enable the smuggling of both people and precursors. This is the cost of inaction—a future where Sabah’s social fabric is defined by desperation and crime. The drug epidemic and the desperation in our shadows are not separate issues; they are interconnected symptoms of a single, systemic collapse in human security.
PART 4: A BORDERLESS CRISIS DEMANDS A DIPLOMATIC SOLUTION – A HUMAN RIGHTS IMPERATIVE
The path forward cannot be found solely in more enforcement. This is a transnational human rights crisis born from complex cross-border flows, and it requires transnational solutions grounded in dignity. The right to an identity, to family unity, and to a life free from exploitation are not privileges reserved for citizens alone; they are the foundational commitments of a just society.
Therefore, the only sustainable path forward is through urgent, high-level diplomacy with Indonesia and the Philippines, built on shared humanity and regional responsibility:
A Bilateral Framework for Repatriation & Regularization: Malaysia must engage Jakarta and Manila to establish clear, humane protocols for voluntary repatriation, alongside pathways to regularize long-term residents.
This separates families from criminal elements and addresses the existing population with justice.
Joint Border Management and Intelligence Sharing: The vast borders cannot be secured by one nation alone. A formalized joint task force with shared intelligence is essential to dismantle the smuggling routes that traffick both people and drugs.
Addressing Root Causes Through Development Dialogue: Diplomacy must extend beyond security to a regional dialogue on economic development in source regions. Creating viable livelihoods at home is the most powerful long-term deterrent to irregular migration and the despair it fosters.
CONCLUSION: OUR SHARED HUMANITY, OUR SHARED SOLUTION
The toddler in Rumah Merah, the assemblymen’s statistics, and the young adult selling syabu are chapters in the same devastating story—a story of rights denied and futures foreclosed.
Our call for diplomacy is not an admission of weakness, but a declaration of principle. It acknowledges that the dignity of the child at our border is a concern that transcends it. A coordinated, humane response is our moral and legal imperative.
One interview captures this plea for personhood: “They call me ‘PATI’ (Pendatang Asing Tanpa Izin). I have no card. I was born here, grew up here. Where is ‘tanpa izin’ (without permission) for a child who never chose to cross any border? I just want to be seen as a person.”
Sabah stands at a defining crossroads. One path leads deeper into a cycle of marginalization and crime. The other leads toward our neighbors, in pursuit of a just and stable future for all who call this land home.
The choice is between managing a permanent crisis or building a lasting peace. For the sake of that forgotten child, and for the soul of Sabah, we must choose the latter.
