Bapak Part II - Election of 1969

The eighties, in hindsight, was not the easiest of time for me. It was in some way, the best of times; it was unfortunately, the worst of time too.

For three tragedies in my life all occurred in the 80s - in 1982, 1983 and 1984, all on a trot. 1984 though, was the rock bottom in my life. 1984 was the year bapak died.

And it was a miracle that I still passed my university's exams all those years! Mind the word 'PASS" ok.

My blogger brother asked me last Sunday when I would be continuing my series on Bapak. As I have always maintained, it is not easy to write about bapak, and hence I have slowed down in that department.

For one, my memory of him is fading fast. Twenty four years has passed since he was taken away from all of us; leaving behind 13 kids - the oldest 22 and the youngest 8 months.

But I remember well the month of May in 1969. We lived in a kampung house in Kampung Sira in Lenggong. Working at the Land Office, he came across an opportunity to own a piece of land filled with rubber trees. Not having extra money to buy it for himself, he decided to go to Kuala Lumpur to convince one of his two elder brothers to buy the land.

He must have gone after the election that year - by chance that day was the 13th of May; the darkest day in our nation's history.

Of course we knew nothing of the happenings in Kuala Lumpur then. We had no television and no telephone. All of the sudden, we lost contact with him and the news splash the next day showed KL in turmoil with the curfew imposed.

There was no news of bapak.

I was 6 years old then. While we were worried, I guess we just too young to get really worried. I don't recall how mum was trying to contact bapak's siblings in KL, or if that was possible at all. I am sure she was worried. I guess for at least a week, we did not know of his fate.

Apparently, he had taken a cab to Kuala Lumpur and the driver was Chinese. It was a very volatile cocktail in the aftermath of the election of 1969. The big riot of 13th May was at its height, and the cab, with a Chinese driver and a Malay passenger, was fast approaching Kuala Lumpur, oblivious of the riot.

The passenger was wearing a songkok, as always.

As they approached Sentul, the cab was stopped by a road block, manned by Chinese rioters. Not knowing any better, the driver stopped his cab by the roadshow.

"Apa pasal lu bawak itu Melayu," the cab driver was asked, I guess the conversation could be in some Chinese's dialect. He was staring at bapak with angry eyes. Having no clue of the severity of the situation, the driver tried to play it down. But the Chinese mob at the roadblock were having none of them. The Malays were killing the Chinese and the Chinese were killing the Malays; here is one Chinese cab driver ferrying one Malay, and they didn't like it one bit.

The riot was at its height.

Suddenly he took out a parang and slashed the cab driver!

Blood came out spouting and soon even bapak's white shirt was all red.

But God is great; the cab driver, still conscious though in pain, hit the pedal and escaped. They then took refuge at the Sentul Police Station, where they were stranded there for at least a week.

I don't remember what became of the cab driver. But honestly I think highly of him and his courage. He was in shock, but his survival and that of his passenger were utmost in his mind.

Bapak came back, much to our relief, after the riot had died down. I remember the toys he brought back - I had to choose between a clock and a drawing tool from which you can make very nice flowery pattern. For some reasons, I took the clock which I regret later. I should have taken the drawing tool, as I thought it was kind of cool.

I am sure we had some kenduri doa selamat for his safe return.

There was another version then that the Chinese rioters didn't actually see bapak and hence bapak was not harmed at all. In other words, he was 'invinsible'. Otherwise how would one explain the reason why would the Chinese rioters harm their own kind, not this Malay with a songkok.

If one were to look at the pics of the riot of 1969, one would tend to believe that version.

This is taken from Tunku's book "Mei 13 - Sa-belum dan Sa-lepas". Looking at these pictures, it is a wonder that bapak was unharmed at all, though he came back with a shirt stained with blood.

Anyway, yes, he did get his brother's approval and bought the piece land in Lenggong. I believe the land is still Pak Lang's who has been residing in Sydney Australia since 1980.

EPILOGUE

This entry is not about the election, nor it is about the riot that took place immediately after. It is about bapak, and he happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time then. It is also about the Malay-Chinese relationship symbolised by the Chinese cab driver and his Malay passenger.

In some ways I do remember that election. I do remember seeing the 'kapal layar' pin somewhere in the house. He didn't use them - I guess it must have been given to him by someone. I remember mum saying he is not really inclined to Perikatan, but I have forgotten the other party that he was inclined to.

Things have changed a lot in 2008. The racial polarization is still there - getting worse, I must admit. And unless we are careful to swing it around, we may face similar problem in the future.

Enough of 1969 - let's bring a new Malaysia to the fore.