By Nina Muslim
KUALA LUMPUR: As dozens of men, women and children mill inside and outside the modest-looking clinic in Kajang, waiting for their names to be called out, one 16-year-old boy caught the attention of the medical staff almost immediately.
Lying on the observation bed and shivering uncontrollably, the painstakingly thin boy was barely conscious as a nurse took his temperature. It was 104 degrees Fahrenheit.
“Call Dr Iqbal,” she said, while another nurse took his blood sample.
Dr Mohammad Iqbal Omar, 61 – lightly tanned and bespectacled, with large jet-black eyes and slightly protruding ears – soon walked in. Tall and lean, his energy was of a man two decades younger, his face relatively unlined despite the shock of white hair. Very friendly and easy to smile, he is a very easy person to like at first sight.
Speaking through an interpreter at the QFFD (Qatar Fund for Development) Clinic, which serves refugees and asylum-seekers in Malaysia, the boy told Dr Iqbal that he has had symptoms for a few weeks but could not find anyone to take him to the clinic. A member of the persecuted Rohingya, he had recently arrived in Malaysia from Myanmar and was waiting to register with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR).
Dr Iqbal, who was born in Yangon, Myanmar, suspected the boy had malaria, a mandatory reportable disease. He told the staff to run the malaria test on the boy to confirm the diagnosis and to notify the nearest government clinic.
“I have had experience (dealing) with malaria in my (birth) country,” he told Bernama.
That is putting it mildly. Before he fled Myanmar in 1989 after participating in the Aug 8, 1988, uprising, the Yangon native was a research medical officer for cerebral and complicated malaria in Yangon.
The uprising, a series of protests against the Soviet-style government of the day, and the subsequent violent military takeover had propelled Aung San Suu Kyi to democracy icon status. For Dr Iqbal and many of his colleagues, it meant leaving the country rather than staying and risking being arrested or worse.
“I didn’t have much of a future anyway. There’s nothing to gain from being a Muslim (in Myanmar) and everything to lose,” he said.
Most of his colleagues went to the United States. He chose to go to Malaysia where he now finds himself treating thousands of people from his former homeland fleeing violence and persecution. At a time when people regard Muslims from Myanmar like the Rohingya as burdensome, seeing someone like Dr Iqbal, who is a Muslim and a doctor and from the troubled Southeast Asian nation, in Malaysia is akin to finding a four-leaf clover.
Fearless
It is never easy leaving one’s home country and family to strike out elsewhere but for Dr Iqbal, it was relatively smooth sailing. He told Bernama the junta allowed everyone to leave Myanmar after they took over so he chose Malaysia because it was a Muslim-majority country that would allow him to excel instead of penalising him for his religion.
Three months after arriving in this country in 1989, he was hired as a medical officer at Universiti Sains Malaysia. He then brought his wife, a nurse, and their newborn baby to join him.
Since then, his career as an academician flourished, taking him to the International Islamic University of Malaysia Medical Centre, Hospital Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, Hospital Pusrawi and University Malaysia Perlis (UniMAP).
In 1998, he became a permanent resident and in 2008 a Malaysian citizen. Dr Iqbal started volunteering with medical non-governmental organisation (NGO) MERCY Malaysia in 2006. The NGO provides medical care and humanitarian aid to locals and refugees in Malaysia and disaster victims overseas.
According to UNHCR, some 181,560 refugees and asylum-seekers were registered with their Malaysian office as of June 2023. The biggest group is from Myanmar at around 157,730, comprising about 105,760 Rohingyas, 23,300 Chins and 28,670 people from other ethnic groups from conflict-hit areas or fleeing persecution in Myanmar.
Throughout the years, Dr Iqbal has travelled to many countries such as Syria, Libya, Turkiye, Afghanistan and Pakistan to provide medical and humanitarian aid, often under difficult and dangerous conditions.
He was also one of the few doctors who provided medical assistance to the people in Fukushima, Japan, soon after the tsunami in 2011 when the damage to the nuclear reactor had yet to be contained.
“We had a Geiger counter (an electronic instrument used for detecting and measuring ionising radiation),” he said, as if that explained away all of the risks.
MERCY Malaysia vice-president Dr Shalimar Abdullah, who had accompanied Dr Iqbal to Japan, described him as “fearless” and someone who was not afraid of danger in the service of others.
She gave the example of the early days of Covid-19 in 2020 when Dr Iqbal spearheaded testing efforts among refugees and asylum-seekers. It was a stressful time as Covid-19 was a largely unknown disease with no vaccines or treatment available.
“Even I was scared because I live with my parents so I was afraid if I do all this swabbing, I’ll go home and infect my parents. But for Dr Iqbal, he’s the one who should be scared for himself, but he was okay,” she said.
Ironically, the only time when he was very cautious was when he had to go to Myanmar on a medical mission or to provide humanitarian aid.
Dr Shalimar said he would stay in the capital and not go into the rural areas.
“In Myanmar, he’s in a very difficult position. He can’t show himself being Myanmarese because he is Muslim as well,” she said.
Dr Iqbal confirmed what she said. “I only felt secure once I got my Malaysian passport,” he said.
Despite the difficulties, he has not completely cut ties with his former homeland. His mother still lives there with his sister and her family. He has cousins there as well.
Shared background
Growing up in Myanmar has helped Dr Iqbal somewhat when working with refugees and asylum-seekers in Malaysia, most of whom are from Myanmar. He had even lived in Rakhine state when his father was posted there as a marine officer with the Inland Water Transport Department.
Despite his years there, he does not speak the Rohingya language, only Burmese.
“He’s not necessarily an asset language-wise but perhaps he understands the psyche of the Myanmar refugees in Malaysia. It may be that he can empathise better with them than we do,” said Dr Shalimar.
Colleagues and staff described him as being “very kind”, adding that his empathy made him a popular figure among his patients and peers alike.
“Sometimes people tend to get caught with all these adjectives but to me, he is just a good rounded person. All the adjectives are not enough to describe him. He’s a nice person, he’s a good person – that encapsulates everything,” said Prof Dr Abd Hamid Adom, a friend of Dr Iqbal from UniMAP.
For refugees from Myanmar, seeing someone who was born in Myanmar and is also a Muslim as a doctor brings some hope if not for themselves than for the future.
A community health worker at QFFD Clinic Mohd Anis Mohd Jalil told Bernama he did not feel very hopeful even though he was happy to discover Dr Iqbal’s origins.
“It’s better not to have hope but inshallah my kids will be like him,” he said.
Dr Iqbal understands that feeling of hopelessness, admitting that the unrest in Myanmar is unlikely to be resolved soon. But he is not giving up.
“I try not to dwell on it. I prefer to just concentrate on what I can do to help,” he said. – BERNAMA
