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.

Streets of London

You know I have really enjoyed my time in little London.

London is so small that you can 'literally' walk from one end to another. Of course I had never done that - no Malaysian worth their citizenship would ever walk if it is over 100 steps away ;-) And no, don't get me wrong. We are not lazy people, you know. We thought it is just a waste to leave the car at home while its value is depreciating.

Sorry, I digress.

London is a place I spent over a year in the early 90s. It was in London we (Arif and I) experienced our first snow in November 1992. I am not sure who was more excited - the dad or his little son. What do you expect since the dad spent 4 years in cold Melbourne, a city that would give you four different seasons in one day but never the snow. This is the city where the weather forecasters would be telling the listeners that there will be "little if any rain today" and within half an hour we had hailstones coming down upon us!

But never the snow.

Sorry, I digress again!

The office in London was just across the street of the apartment where we were staying. This is the time you would be thankful that you live in front of the office, since mid-winter here can be harsh and unwelcoming. At the depth of winter, you would practically dash out from the apartment lobby into the ofice lobby in 10 seconds or less, crossing a four-lane road.

I am sure Ben Johnson would have been proud!

You have to actually - you have no choice. The snow outside was two-foot deep - the temperature was a freezing 20 degree below.

Of course you have to watch for the snow mower or you'll risk being mowed down by them!

Earlier, we had visited a small village where the people lead a life that is free of the trapping of modern living. No, they were not Amish, but must be some kind of Amish's siblings, I guess.

Driving back to London, suddenly London was all white and snowy.

While we were excited at our first snow experience, I was apprehensive. I had never driven in the snow in my whole life. I can see a couple of cars sliding side to side - much like 'ketam berjalan', at times hitting the other cars parked on the kerb. "Oh no," I thought, "there goes all the monies I had saved from all my travels."

It will now be used to pay for a stranger's car dent.

Luckily we survived without a scratch.

London is dead by 5 pm. You would not find a soul outside at night, especially in the winter. There was no Harrods, there was no Soho for you to throw away your money.

Unlike the London everybody else knew.

When my then boss Jaafar asked the vendor of their office location during a meeting at the Japanese contractor's office in Yokohama, and was told that their office was in London, he nodded in anticipation, while stroking his beard. Afterall, he was a graduate from a univeristy in England, and as the project manager, this could be his chance to return to the scene of the crime. ;-)

Little did he know that the vendor was talking about London, Ontario (Canada)!

This is my London. That's a very young Arif - all wrapped up and his mum in the Ontario town of London in cold November of 1992, after a Christmas parade. Yes a Christmas parade in November to entice the people to start shopping and boost the economy. Or at least that's what I was told by the London citizens. That, in the background, is the only tall building in London.

EPILOGUE

I had interesting chat with a SACDA engineer while in London. I told them why did they have to pick up world famous cities as the name for their towns. They have London, Delhi (as in New Delhi India), Melbourne (as in Melbourne Australia; my second home then), Sydney and a few others that escaped me at this moment.

He responded with a smile, "Our Melbourne is actually pronounced Mel-born, and not as Mel-burn (Australia), Delhi is pronounced as Del-high and not as New Delhi in India."

He has a point. What can I say?

This London I am talking about is about two hour drive from Toronto, about 2 hour drive from Detroit, Michigan, may be 5 hour drive from Niagara, and about 8 hour drive to New York, if I am not mistaken. That should give you an idea of its location.

Well, do enjoy the Streets of London song by McTell. I love this song, and to me this is about the real London. When I first knew of this song in the 70s, I was imagining myself walking down the streets of London, and it did materialize more than 15 years later, albeit in the wrong London!

"Let me take you by the hand,

and lead you through the streets of London,

I'll show you something,

to make you change your mind"

The Carnivorous Periuk Kera

The pitcher plant reminds me of life near the tin mine of Aulong in the 70s.

While browsing for some plants at a nursery near Cheras yesterday's afternoon, I came across the pitcher plant. I have been looking for it for quite sometimes; not realizing that they had always been there under my nose, and not even knowing. My problem obviously that I have always been looking downwards, and not enough looking upwards. The reason being that these pitchers plants are all hanging up from the ceiling!

My pitcher plant hanging from the roof. Eat, eat away all insects.

I remember my trip to KK many years ago. Not having much to do while waiting for my flight, I browsed one gift shop there and saw a pitcher plant on sale. It was a tiny one, and the asking price then was RM30. "Too expensive," I thought, passing up the chance of owning this plant I first saw when I was a small child in Taiping.

So when I was there in KK again last January, I went to the shop only to be told that they have ran out of them.

When the whole of the tin mines in Aulong was our playing field, I remember that the pitcher plants can be found in abundant. I was fascinated by the fact that the pitchers because of their carnivorous nature. In other words, they feed on insects!

Well, in the age on the non-existence of internet and computers, we spent a reasonable amount of time outdoor. Fortunately these sort of plants were available in their natural environment in abundant, and we don't have to resort to National Geographic or Discovery Channels to know them.

Just imagine - a plant eating insects, with its enzyme slowly digesting them. Stuff B grade movies are made of, but I guess this is much better than many B grade movies shown on Astro!
However, there was a price to pay for development, and many of these plants became extinct with time.

Apparently there are many benefits of these pitcher plants, beyond a good and natural method to get rid of insects! There are stories floating around that the water inside the pitcher plants is good for the eyes. If you don't believe them, go around visiting the orang asli settlement (and this is especially great at this time if you aspire to be a YB); count how many orang aslis would be using glasses!
I have also found out from the various sites on the net that it is also good for enhancing the growth of your hair, which is really good for yours truly; one would need to use the water in the pitcher on the scalp. Of course one can also boil the pitcher and the stem for one hour and drink the water; it is supposed to help those with hypertension.

Aah well, the question is whether I would have it in me to drink or use water in the pitcher.

I keep on thinking about the giant insects that were eaten alive in that pitcher and there is no way I would be drinking its water.

Would you?

Who authorize SPR to move my wife's voting centre?

I am fuming and the whole family is so upset with SPR.

I have mentioned in earlier entry that the general election is basically a vacation time for the family. In fact I have made hotel booking for us to do our tour of duty and we should all arrive there on Friday, ample of time for the election. (Read: Terengganu, here we come again.)

The kids are looking forward for their day having 'kepok leko' at the Kemasik beach after playing with the waves there.

Late this afternoon, while I was reading about a 119-year old woman (or was it 19 year old girl - in which case she is not eligible to vote) from Rembau in someone's blog, I went to the SPR website to confirm my polling centre and polling stream which are critical for a fast and efficient voting process on Saturday as I prefer to do my voting as early and as quickly as possible and leave for KL soon after.

This is what I found out.


No surprises there I guess.

Then I decided to check for my wife's polling centre.

This is what I found.

She is now registered in Hussein Onn under DUN Balakong and Parlimen Serdang.

The kids and I are left fuming at this sudden of change of her polling centre. There goes our plan for a family vacation in Terengganu on the 7th March 2008 and the tradition that has been set since 1999 is now broken, perhaps forever.

The question is who authorize the change? She didn't for sure; like me she had been a voter in the same area as me in Terengganu since 1999.

For sure her IC address would be our home in Hussein Onn, and hence the change. But my IC address is Taiping and they didn't move me back for voting in Taiping.

I believe the last time we checked with the SPR website is perhaps more than six months ago, so we didn't know when this Feb 5 gazetted electoral roll is used. I honestly believe that this is done on purpose as part of a grand scheme to give advantage to certain party(ies).

Tell me, anyone, what choice do I have to fight this blatant moving of voter?

Point to Ponder

I read it yesterday that 200 people staged a protest in front of the Denmark Embassy in Jakarta for re-publishing the cartoon purportedly insulting the Prophet Muhammad and Islam in that country's newspaper.

AP reported that one Shodiq Ramadhan as saying, "The publishing of the cartoon shows sheer arrogance and dis-respect to other people's belief."

I am in two minds here - should we just ignore it and not be overly sensitive about such insults, and risk being labelled indifferent to our beloved prophet and our religion; or should be start demonstrating, and call for boycott of all of Denmark's produce, to show the world the depth of our loves for the Prophet of Islam?

I would like for us to consider the former. To me, we should just ignore these insults and go on with our lives. Don't get me wrong, I am not saying that we should not defend Islam and the prophet - if it is under attack, but may be - just may be - the others love to see us go berserk!

I remember reading Reader's Digest December 2001 edition and was taken by a story first published by the Boston Globe. The writer Alfie Kohn has this story to tell us.

If we come to view ourselves as working for an external reward, we will no longer find an activity worth doing in its own right. There is an old joke that illustrates this. An elderly man, harassed by the taunts of the neighbourhood children, devised a scheme. He offered to pay them a dollar each if they would return on Tuesday and yell their insults again. The children did so eagerly and received the money. Then he told them he would pay only 25 cents on Wednesday. When they returned, insulted him again and collected their money, he informed them that Thursday's rate would be just a penny. "Forget it," they said - and never taunted him again.

Don't you think by ignoring them, these bashers would not have the satisfaction they so crave?

The Day the Music Died II

In our 25 millions citizens, why can't we find another Sudirman?

Well, that was not the exact question posed by Arif actually yesterday's afternoon, while this writer was pondering what to write as my tribute to be posted on the 16th anniversary of the day the "Music" died. He was asking in the context of Mozart, as he is a classical fan - why can't we, in the 6 billion population that we have today, find another Mozart?

I told him I don't know the answer (but I also told him that I don't mind him being another Mozart!); but instead posed him with another question: Why can't we have another Sudirman?

Actually I know the answer. To be honest, I don't want another Sudirman; and there can never be another. Another Sudirman, if ever there could be one, would never be able to replicate what I (or we) have gone through at that stage of our lives. Freudian, eh?

It was the best of times and I had the time of my life then.

Thank you sir, for you will always be in our hearts.

Moga Allah mencucuri rahmatNya keatas ruh Sudirman.

Alfatihah [..sambil mengesat airmata.]

Epilogue

I remember that day very well. Then Dayabumi was my office and waiting for my bus at Leboh Ampang on that Saturday afternoon, the Malay Mail broke the news of his death.

For the next three days and three nights, I remember reciting the yaasin for him. I felt the affinity with him in death - very strongly, I must admit; I thought I owe him as much. I had never met him, and he would not know of my existence, but I knew then that he meant a lot to me.

Just in case you missed my first installment of The Day the Music Died - this was the title that appeared in the The Star the day after (Feb 23, 1992) at this writer's suggestion as a tribute to the genius that was Sudirman.

This writer said this, quoted in the The Star the day after (23 Feb 1992), "This is the day the Music died."

Milik Siapakah Gadis Ini

Actually what makes Sudir so special is the fact that he had touched the lives of millions of Malaysians in no small way; and like no other, if I may add. I am sure that many of us can find one or two or more songs of Sudirman we can relate to, or for a fan(atic) like me, all of his songs and albums!

When his first LP was released in 1978, the songs that got most of the air play were "Kasih" and "Aku Penghiburmu"; but my attention was centred on "Maya". Even if it was a copyrighted song (Read: ciplak, but a beautiful one at that, I must admit), it was very popular those days.

Not that I know of anyone of that name anyway.

In the late 80s, there was one album that produced at least 2 great songs - "Merisik Khabar", a song written by Manan Ngah, and "Milik Siapakah Gadis Ini", written by sifu - who else? - M. Nasir. While Merisik Khabar won him third place in Muzik Muzik, and Best Performer, Milik Siapakah Gadis Ini generated rave reviews from fans through-out the country minus the official recognition.

Then TV3 would not allow foreigner albeit one by the name of M Nasir to compete on its program, which was a shame really as it would have definitely been a top 3 song of that year. It even spawned a TV mini-series then, starring one Eman Manan.

I remember this song well as it was last song Sudirman released just before I got married.

A friend of mine recently confessed that he held this song close to his heart. He went on to explain the reason why. I was touched by his story, not because I am an incurable romantic - jauh panggang dari api, but more so due the fact that here is another example of how Sudirman had touched the lives of Malaysians from all walk of life; young and old. In my case, I was 13 when he first appeared on the scene; was 17 when he made it really big in 1980 with his two LP releases; and was in early twenties when this song was released, so basically I grew up with Sudirman, and his songs.

He however was 10 then, but old enough I guess to have a crush on someone (Errr, bro, am I saying the right thing here?). This song made it more memorable. He said, "I was in Std 4 at that time, didn’t really listen to English songs (I was a bookworm back then), and one of the distinct Malay song that still haunted me goes like…”Milik siapakah gadis ini…wajah lembut bagaikan sutera….” by Sudirman…..had a crush on a girl a year younger, but back then I was so bashful, so we just traded glances."

I guess it still makes his heart flutter, everytime he hears this song!

This one for you, Hasnor.

Or if you prefer the recorded version, here is one (Mekar Sejambak 1988).

http://

EPILOGUE

Just in case you are wondering, I do have Hasnor's permission to use his story. And just to make sure he won't sue me for this, this is not any Hasnor you know!

Thanks bro.