From Linza Wells Recently while having lunch at an eatery in town with a friend, we were approached by a young child of eight or nine begging for money. He did not sound Malaysian although we guessed he tried to blend in by wearing a local traditional top. It would seem at a glance he might have been a Rohingya refugee child who was wandering the streets by himself, going from table to table. We bought him a drink and he happily sat down to fini…