KUALA LUMPUR & JAKARTA - In a cramped, brightly painted fluorescent green classroom, dozens of Indonesian children strain to follow along as they learn to read. Their voices rise in unison. It echoes off the walls under the watchful eyes of two Indonesian volunteers who are seemingly in their 40s.
Outside, Kuala Lumpur seems busy. Car horns blare, engines rumble, and the occasional azan, the Islamic call to prayer, drifts into the room through open windows. These children live in Malaysia’s largest cities, yet their parents’ undocumented status bars them from formal schooling. Like thousands of other undocumented Indonesian children in Malaysia, they have no access to public education.
“I’m happy to learn here because I have a lot of friends,” says one kid, speaking in a vividly strong Malay dialect that she seemed to have developed after years growing up in the country. “And I love learning the Indonesian language.”
They call these classes “Sanggar Bimbingan,” community-run learning centers created for undocumented Indonesian children in Malaysia. Across the country, dozens of such centers shelter more than 2,000 children. They’re mostly undocumented, though some have papers too.
In these community-made rooms, they find a small space to learn, to laugh, and to be children, without the shadow of paperwork hanging over them. It’s not official, let alone being recognized, but to these children, it’s everything.
Growing Up as Undocumented Indonesian Children in Malaysia
Indonesia and Malaysia share more than geography. Their borders were once lined with kingdoms and sultanates. Majapahit. Srivijaya. Malacca. European colonial powers reshaped the region, but that shared history continues through migration.
Malaysia has become the biggest enclave of Indonesians abroad, with over 2 million people. For decades, Indonesian migrant workers have come here for work in factories, plantations, and homes. Some overstay visas or enter through informal channels, taking advantage of visa-free tourism arrangements between the two nations.
The Indonesian National Human Rights Commission estimates that over 320,000 Indonesians in Malaysia, both children and adults, may be undocumented or stateless. The true number is hard to pin down because families often avoid official records.
Professor Muhammad Firdaus, the Education and Culture Attaché at the Indonesian Embassy in Kuala Lumpur, knows these numbers well. "Of approximately 1.5 million Indonesian migrant workers here, more than one million are illegal," he says. Their children number in the tens of thousands, many born into legal limbo. In fact, a 2022 study found that for most undocumented and non‑citizen children, community learning centers remain the only viable pathway to basic schooling.
In 2019, the Malaysian government launched a "Zero Reject Policy” aimed to cover undocumented children with at least one Malaysian parent.
However, the policy does not extend to children whose parents are both undocumented migrant workers.
For tens of thousands of Indonesian children, formal education is simply not an option. They exist, they grow up in Malaysian cities, but on paper they're invisible. And without papers, there are no school enrollment forms to fill out.
Many of these children were born to mothers whose marriages were never officially registered. Some fled abusive employers. Others married in religious ceremonies conducted by an ustaz, an Islamic religious leader, or village head, but never received legal documentation.
"So they never have a marriage book," Prof. Firdaus says. "Until they have grandchildren. The children don't have birth certificates."
The embassy now holds mass weddings to help legitimize these unions for over 300 people per year. Three days to complete health checks, ceremonies, and paperwork. But for children already born into the circumstance, the damage is done. They inherit their parents' invisibility, and with it, their exclusion from Malaysian schools.
This is why Sanggar Bimbingan became necessary.
How Sanggar Bimbingan Learning Centers Keep Their Doors Open
Formed through a partnership with Kuliah Kerja Nyata (KKN), a community service program that sends Indonesian undergraduates to villages and countryside, Sanggar Bimbingan is sustained by rotating groups of university students who step in as teachers when volunteer numbers fall short.
“We now have 152 Indonesian universities committed to KKN students,” Prof. Firdaus says. “Teaching at Sanggar Bimbingan comes from KKN students. There's already an official cooperation agreement with the Ambassador for the next four years.”
While coordination can be spotty, with no volunteer students coming in for months, it is enough to keep the classrooms running.
Three Indonesian Schools operate in Malaysia, including Sekolah Indonesia Kuala Lumpur with around 650 students. But for the vast majority of undocumented children, Sanggar Bimbingan is the only option.
Yet even with these constraints, Prof. Firdaus sees possibilities that stretch further than these makeshift classrooms.
The Afirmasi Pendidikan Menengah (ADEM) or Secondary Education Affirmation scholarship in English is a scholarship offered to children of Indonesian migrant workers.
"Every year, maybe 2,000 to 3,000 students graduate from junior high," Prof. Firdaus says. "Where do they go?"
"Alhamdulillah, since 2017 there's the ADEM Scholarship. How much per month? 2.4 million rupiah. Different from KIP."
KIP, or the Smart Indonesian Card is a scholarship that offers basic stipends. ADEM goes beyond that. "This special scholarship for potential migrant children covers them from when they enter university until they finish. Wherever they want. Medicine, law. They're covered for living expenses and tuition until they become graduates."
Still, official recognition remains out of reach. When asked about cooperation with the Malaysian government, Prof. Firdaus is candid. "There isn't any yet. But it's already been raised by President Prabowo to the Malaysian government."
"It's already entered into discussions at the Annual Consultation, called ANCON. So it's being discussed at the G2G (government-to-government) level regarding the learning centers."
For Sanggar Bimbingan, these grassroots centers operating in borrowed spaces, being included in government discussions signals an early step toward future recognition.
From Evening Classes to a Community School at Sanggar Bimbingan
At one Sanggar Bimbingan in Kuala Lumpur, the woman they call "Bunda" (Mother) recalls the beginning. She developed the school alongside her husband in 2015.
"It started in 2015 when I saw the condition of migrant children who were unable to access basic education," Bunda says. "Right there, the desire to teach them took root. Because we are migrant workers here, I work while teaching the children."
In those early days, classes ran from 4 PM to 10 PM. The volunteers taught after their own work shifts ended, squeezing lessons into the evening hours when children weren't needed at home. It wasn't until later that they shifted to morning classes.
The efforts began receiving serious attention in 2020. In 2021, they were formally recognized by the Education and Culture Attaché of the Indonesian Embassy.
While direct financial support is still pending, the collaboration is real. The embassy provided office supplies, whiteboards, tables, mats. A television. A printer. Small things that make teaching possible.
"We are fighting this battle together, so we don't depend solely on others," Bunda says. "The KBRI and us, as Indonesian citizens who care about the nation's children, because they have the right to start their education."
The learning center runs on just three permanent teachers. What started as restrictive evening hours is now more structured. A typical day starts at 8 AM with an opening greeting, about 15 minutes. Then lessons and repetition until midday. A half-hour break at 10 AM. Classes continue into the afternoon, followed by Quran recital sessions for those who stay until evening.
"It's just the three of us," Bunda says. "Since we take on outside work as migrant workers, we are forced to teach and also go out to work. Our work here is voluntary."
Her husband, Supardi, explains how the center works. Students are divided into lower grades (1 through 3) and higher grades (4 through 6). Most students take exams at their own Sanggar Bimbingan, but sixth graders must test at SIKL. For lower grades, the volunteer teachers create the exams themselves. For higher grades, SIKL provides the questions. The results are uploaded to SILN, which issues report cards.
2022 was a huge milestone where the first batch of students graduated and continued to junior high.
Bunda speaks proudly of one student in particular. "That one student is very creative. She is a good dancer, and a smart host." The girl once performed before the Sultan of Pahang, proof that talent can flourish even in borrowed classrooms.
Last month, the center won third place at the KSM, the Madrasah Science Competition organized by Indonesian Schools Abroad globally. "We are not formal education," Bunda says. "But as educators, we are proud."
Foster Homes for Undocumented Indonesian Children
On November 27, the Indonesian Diaspora Network Global (IDN Global) signed a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) with the Indonesian Embassy, launching the Orang Tua Asuh (Foster Parents) Program to support children of migrant workers who often grow up undocumented and without access to education.
Nathalia Widjaja, president of IDN Global, framed the program as a bridge between the diaspora community and their children’s future. She shared a promising outlook of the program with Migrant Times: “This is essentially an empowerment program for Indonesian children, because we know they are Indonesia's future.”
The embassy backed the program, which aims not just to provide money, but also guidance, care, and a chance for these children to grow and thrive.
“Because they're undocumented, one day, they'll have to be sent back to Indonesia, right? But if they're not properly educated, the social costs of migration will be too great for Indonesia—crime rates will likely be much higher, and so on, because they're uneducated,” she added.
“Of course, there are many limitations, but we're trying to provide the best for the future of Indonesian children and also for Indonesia itself,” Widjaja said.
More than 320,000 undocumented Indonesians live in Malaysia. At least 50,000 of them are children, many born in the country and linked to migrant labour through no choice of their own.
And tomorrow at 8 a.m., this classroom will open again with three teachers for dozens of children. Across Kuala Lumpur, Sabah, and Sarawak, other classrooms will do the same — quietly holding together the futures of children who exist outside any official system.
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