The 9th & The 10th Zulhijjah 1428

Eid Adha this year was on the 20th December 2007 on a wet monsoon season. Some states in Peninsular Malaysia; was underwater, besieged by weeks of heavy downpour and floodings - the worst being in Kelantan,Pahang,Johore and Kedah. Thousands (20,0000 +) spending their Eid Adha in Relief Centers. Most rural peasants had lost their live stocks, while others, their possessions.

Alhamdullillah my village Tanjong Bayan was not effected by flood, maybe because the Imperial British Malaya Administration before Malayan Independence had successfully grid the Malay Reserve Lands with proper irrigation system. Although now the monsoon drains are very much neglected and far from good meantenance, I remember Kampung Tanjung Bayan never at any time experience flooding.
However to the Malaysian Muslim al large, the wet season: heavy rain and the floods did not dempened their spirit of Aidil Adha. Undauntedly they braved the downpours and the floods in their ritual homeward or 'balik kampong' exodus.

I was one of them. This year was my 3rd Eid Adha at my kampung.

So in anticipation of flash floods and heavy downpour along the 200 km+ ‘balik kampung’ trip on the eve of Eid Adha, I changed route, instead choose the Expressway to the north rather than the usual coastal road via Kelang, Tanjung Karang and Sabak Bernam. Unfortunately, the highway traffic too was heavy since morning. At certain point vehicles travelled at ‘snail speed’. Lucky though there was no heavy downpour along the way.

I prayed hard for the safe journey. Thank Allah for His blessings. I safely reached my destination on time.

My plan was to be with the kampong folks for the Maghrib prayer, reciting the Hari Raya Takbir; followed after Isha Prayer with the reciting Surah Yassin and Tahlil and a Kenduri Kesyukuran - feasting. This was the 3rd year in a row my family and the village folks organized the event.

The congregation began on the eve of AidilAdha on the 19th. through special Eid Adha Prayer & Reception, 'Ibadah Korban', and luncheon feasting on the 20th Dec.07. It was drizzling as I reached Mardarsah Ahmadiah Parit 25 Baruh a few minutes before the azan Maghrib. I was met on arrival by the Imam Haji Jumari ( a childhood friend ) and soon the whole ‘jemaah’ joined in. I was enthralled on the big turnout. Additional prayer area was prepared to house the big congregation. The evening event lasted till 11.00 pm.

The special Eid Adha prayer, followed by Eid Adha 'open house brunch', Ibadah Korban and luncheon on the next day saw a bigger turnout, including some Indonesia foreign workers from the nearby factories, and some of my home coming relatives.It was a job well executed. We slaughtered 3 cattle. The kampong folks, young and old helped to cut the meat, equally weight and wrapped to be distributed to the poor and needy peasants as far as the adjacent villages and squatter areas. It was a team output. Each member played their role well and without fuss, true to the ‘gotong ruyong’ - togetherness spirits still alive and well practiced in rural villages till the present day.The event was symbolically a novel cause, worth repeating.

Insyaalah.

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“ Those who (in charity) spend off their goods by night and by day, in secret and in public, have their reward with their Lord: on them shall be no fear, nor shall they grieve.”
Surah Al-Bukarah, ayat 274.

REMEMBERING THE 5TH SEPTEMBER 60

It was on a fateful Sunday night on the 5th of September 1960 our beloved father passed away peacefully. Beginning that night I was to shoulder the mandatory task of helping my mother with all family matters. I was 19 years of age then, and still a greenhorn. I had just completed my secondary education, and with no future planning.

Our beloved father passed away after a very long serious illness.

On that fateful day like any other Sunday afternoon I bade the normal farewell to my family before going to town for the last bus ride to Sungai Batang on the trunk road to Bagan Datuk. As of the 1st week of April the same year, I was on a temporary job posting as an assistant teacher at Sekolah Umum Sungai Batang, some 10 miles away from my home.

I vividly remember, as I left home that evening, it was the usual goodbye between father and son. Not much word spoken between us. This time he was sitting up on his sick bed seeing me off.

I later recalled that it was an unusual gesture from him, because for months he was bedridden – lying flat on the ‘kekabu’ mattress nursed by my mother and elder sister all day. All the time he was weak and frail, more often coughing and spitting blood especially on the early morning or late afternoon.
But then, we observed that on the last few days his health had improved by the day. The family was delighted on the recourse. Now the family firmly believed that the spiritual rituals conducted on him at his sickbed by a renowned Pawang (traditional healer) recommended by closed relatives a couple of weeks earlier has shown healing sign. The family now confirmed that father was bewitched as claimed, althought we strongly disapproved earlier. The Pawang claimed that he had successfully dispelled the powers of the evil spirit on father. That father’s health would soon back to normal.

Easily the family believed him and discarded earlier prognosis that father was suffering either from cancer or TB-Tuberculosis.

But I had my reservation.

For years father had been suffering from ill health. At times he was bedridden for a couple of weeks. I remember a few months back he forced himself out of bed and move about the house. On one occasion he walked to town for his usual Kopi Kaw at the local Kopitiam. I remember giving him RM100.00; a month of my 3 months’ basic salary arrears payment as a temporary teacher, for his expenses. But later that afternoon he was very sick and had to be carried home. He was bed ridden ever since. The money I gave him, was never spent.
I had a special bond with father. He was my mentor. I loved and always had the greatest respect for him, although most of the time I was scared of him. He was a no nonsense fellow. For that he had equal number of people who like and dislike him. He was a popular figure among his peers. The young called him Pak Andak, athough by most, he was known as Pak Abas. He looked after his friends, families and siblings well. He took care of them, so much so that our house has always been receiving visit from families and friends, far and near. They came as far as Batu Kurau, Parit, Ipoh, Taiping, Penang and Kedah as well from Kuala Lumpur, Kuala Selangor, Kapar, Sungai Besar, Bagan Tunjang, Sungai Tiang, Sungai Baru, Sungai Lancang and Rungkup, visiting him on his sick bed. We had uncles, unties and close relatives in all these places. Ours was indeed a big family, and father was always accepted as an elder that they all respected.
I received the news of his death at past midnight from my cousin Ismail. He cycled the 10 miles kampong track to Sekolah Umum Kampung Sungai Batang, to bring me home. I was staying at the Headmaster’s bachelor quarters. That day Chegu Taib the Headmaster had taken delivery of a new motorcycle - a Honda Cub 90cc. So there was a small celebration at the bachelor’s mess. We had dinner, later we had coffee over a game of dominoes. I was in the team of 4, playing the dominoes. We were the noisy lots when my cousins arrived with the bad news. We were shocked. The bad news struck a chord in me. I realized that I immediately needed to be home with my grieving family. It was in the wee hour of the night, and there was no means of public transport. The only way was to ride pavilion on my cousin’s bicycle for the 10 miles journey. Chegu Taib offered to send me on his new Honda cub 90 cc. I was grateful for his kind gesture.
I reached home around 2.00 am, and there was my father motionless body lying on the bed surrounded by my grieving mother, uncles, unties and neighbors. I could hear the trembling voice of my elder sister Salmah reading the Quran. I was flabbergasted as I lean forward to have a peek at fathers pale face. For hours I was by his dead bed speechless till the chill of dawn engulfed the atmosphere around. I now realized that I need to shoulder all the family responsibility rightaway. Most importantly I had to feed and to look after my 4 sisters and a brother well being. Mother, a single parent with no job skill. How were we going to feed the family. I tried to reasons things, but found no avenues opened for me. I tried to see my future, but all I could only see was darkness before me; no sign of light at the end of the tunnel. I was in limbo. For me things seemed to be standstill till morning.
I had my RM5.00 a week allowance in my pockets. I knew my mother had no money either. We all had run out of funds, since my father’s illness. Earlier father sold some of our properties, for his medication expenditures, and as repayment on all his business dealings and outstanding debts.
Out of desperation I need to burst and cry, but my tears had dried out. I need to talk to someone: firstly for a small loan for the funeral, but found no one to turn to.
I was helpless, as I cycled to Hutan Melintang Post Office to send telegrams to my untie in Ipoh, uncles & aunties and other relatives in Kuala Lumpur with the RM5.00 I had on me.

Allah’s will, by the time I returned home at 9.00am, the house was packed with well wishes, and the funeral preparation was fully in place. Thanks to the Village Community Committee. They were ready to give helping hands and took over all the funeral preparation and expenses. They assured me of their total undertakings.
As the eldest son I had to make decisions as to the time and place of burial. I was also to be with the Imam washing my late father body during the preparation for the burial.

There was a small snack as to the place of burial. Our family burial ground had always been at a cemetery of Parit 17, four miles away from our house. There were two other nearby cemeteries, one at Hutan Melintang and the other at Parit 24 each a mile distance from our home at Parit 26. The Iman and the Village Community Committee found out, it was difficult to have a funeral procession all the way to Parit 17, as the kampong track from Parit 26 to Parit 17 was unleveled and considered impassable. The Drainage and Irrigation Department had earlier widened the canals alongside the kampong track, pilling the muddy residues and thick mud on the footpath. As it was a dry season, the residues and mud hardened, making it difficult to walk through. It will take some months later for the DID to leveled them.
I had to make my decision. My mother and close relatives preferred my late father to be buried at our family plot, against the advice of the Village Committee. I was in a fix, until my kampong buddies Zakaria, Shafie, Mat Som, Sarmuji, Malik, Rahman, Andak Aris and few others supported my family’s wish that we should take the hearse to Parit 17 Cemetery. I felt deeply honoured by their gestures, that I subsequently gave an emotional speech to all the well wishes, on the start of the funeral processions.

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In deaths, we forgive and forget. So was on the demised of father. Well wishes thronged our house from morning till after the funerals. Relatives, neighbors, friends, and also his business colleagues and rivals came from far and near with the condolences. Never had I seen such a big number of well wishes, meeting our families. As I stated earlier, during his lifetimes my father was always adored by his friends as well loathed by his rivals. Now they came in full force paying their last respect. .

As far as I remember, father had a hard life and gone through lots of sufferings for the welfare of his family and siblings. Life has taken its toll on him. He was the sole breadwinner in our family. He loved us dearly and took care on all his siblings.
He left us with no parting words. And it was up to us to make his entire dream realized. For whatever it was, I had to take my stance: work hard and be worthy in life. I firmly believe father would want me to strive, the betterment for all. That’s the righteous way to follow. Alhamdullillah we’ were all blessed by Allah.

Mother passed away of old age 33 years later, in 1993 and was buried at the vicinity of father's grave. For 33 years, mother a Single Parent. She really took good care on all her children. We all missed them dearly. Daily we give our prayers for their souls and on any available chance visited their graves at the family plot at Parit 17.
Alfatihah……May Allah Blessed their Souls.

Ps: I am posting this on the eve of AidilAdha 2007. My sisters and brother plus their spouses, children and grand children would ‘balik kampung’ to day for the Hari Raya Haji on the 20th December. We’ll have a kenduri and Majlis Tahlil tonight at Surau Parit 27 Baruh, Aidiladha Prayer tomorrow morning, followed by Korban dan AidilAdha Feasting at the same venue.

CLASS OF 53

It started off with a handful of us. Derived from various Malay Schools from a vast Malay Agriculture Reserve Land of Coconut Plantations, spanning from Kampung Tanjung Bayan on the bank of Sungai Bernam to Bagan Datoh on the mouth of Sungai Perak. We were the pioneer group of Malay students selected for the Special Malay Class stream at a newly established GES - Government English School, Hutan Melintang, on The Lower Perak District.
Moving to a new school on the 1st week of January 1952, was a week full of anticipation for most of us: Abdul Aziz Abas, Ariffin Nordin, Yusoff Atan, Mohd.Noor Dom, Razak Shafie, Zubir Yahya, Shahidan, Shahuri, Kamal Yahya, Nordin Sabran, M.Noor Ismail, Musa Muhammad, Shiratuddin Kadir, Musa Radzi, Zambahari Safawi, Abdullah Bakir, Kamaruddin Taib and Ismail Shaari. It was a week of meeting new faces and making new friends. Soon the number grew with additional pupils from other GES following their parents posting to various Government Departments at Bagan Datoh, Simpang Empat and Hutan Melintang. Most of them were the children of either The Police, Marine, Custom& Excise and Forestry Departments.
The school building itself comprising 2 classrooms a Latrine and a Tuckshop,built on a piece of vacant land adjacent to the renowned Sekolah Melayu Hutan Melintang. Although newly built, it lacked luster. The school situated some 500 meters away from the main road with a small compound. A plot of uncultivated land about 2 acres adjacent to it, a secondary forest covered with tall lalangs and some trees, soon turned out to be our special playground, a suitable location for “Main Perang Jepun” and for after school playing hide and seek activities.
It was a new environment and a rought beginnings for most of us. Some of us walked or cycled to school, while others travelled on the morning bus from Bagan Datoh and its outline kampongs, some 16 miles away. We had a Mr MacKenzie a Scottish for a Head Master. Mr Ghazali and Miss Rokiah as class teachers and Pak Din a midget as an office assistant.
The first 2 years was not much of a serious study, except we were supposed to converse only in the English Language during school hours. Those caught conversing in their mother tongue would be fined 5 cents or punished by doing cheap labours sweeping the floors and cleaning the toilets. Of course 5 cents was a big money then, and doing cheap labours including cleaning the toilets were not our piece of cake. Instead in the classroom the we were all well behaved. No chatting to each other, no fooling around, because none of us really could speak English except for a few words, like: “Good Morning Sir, Good Morning Miss Rokiah, Thank You Sir, Thank You Miss Rokiah, Good Afternoon Sir, Good Afternoon Miss Rokiah." Of course we understand the phrase “Class Dismiss”. It was the only magic phrase we really fully understood, as it was the signal for us go home.
For the first few weeks the Head Master and Our Class Teachers seem to be busy doing lots of things. We had either Reading, Recitation, Writing or Arithmetic for a full day class sessions. Sometimes we were given a football, and were allowed to use the Malay School padang the whole morning till recess time, while the Head Master & Teachers attending special briefing or meeting at the Education Office in town 12 miles away or attending other school missions.
Once we had Pak Din the midget running the school, and he was chased off by some of the girls from the Primary Class who were bigger and taller than him. Pak Din stand below 2 feet 6 inches in height. He could easily be bullied by a few plump girls from The Primary Class.
Two years later we were transferred to the new school premise – GES Sungai Sumun 5 miles away. GES Hutan Melintang ceased operation. The new GES, Sungei Sumun was also to cater students from other vanicular school in the area with full facility including quarters for the staff.

Proper classroom lessons began to take shape. The school total enrolment had reached 300 plus students. We were in Form I when we moved in to GES Sungai Sumun. By now many new intakes from Standard 6 pupils of other vanicular schools joining us in Form 1. We had Zanariah, Shantakumari, Shahrumbi, Ikram, Rashid, Daud, Yeoh Teik Sun, BoonHong, Maniam, Dayananda, RajaAhmad and Shahriman. By 1955 we were no more the Malay boys of the Special Malay Class Grouping, instead a group of 'fully fledged' secondary students of a multiracial and co- educational English Medium School. We were proud to be the most senior in the new school. We were the Prefects, Heads Of School Teams, and most importantly all attention were given to us as we were the first batch students to sit for The Lower School Certificate Examination come 1957.
Our new Headmaster after Mr Mackenzie was a no nonsense, an ‘anti-colonial’ hot tempered bachelor from Chemor Perak - Chegu Mustapha Kimin. He was later replaced by Chegu Rahim, a family man also from Perak. Chegu Rahim was a fatherly figure and a kind person. He was a strict School administrator. He loves to use the cane, and personally overseer the class term progress reports. Each end term we were marched into his office, each displaying our Term Report Card. The 30 of us from Standard 6 were to face him one after another for his assessment beginning with the cream group from position 1 ranking, ending with those in the failure list. My normal ranking was between position 11 to 16 for each term exam. result.
He would congratulate all the high achievers for their hard works until his son Shariman turn to show his Term Report Card. That was when the caning began. For every weak performance marked in Shariman report card, mean a hard whip for his son, either on the right palm or on the buttock. All along, Shariman’s class position had always been from number 10 onwards, meaning disasters for those who stood in line behind him. More than half of the class ( including the girls ) would faced the misfortune, being caned by Chegu Rahim,The Headmaster, for every weak score in their respective report cards.
The special canning sessions on each term end, was a collective secret for most of us. No one willing to talk or complained about them. Never, even to our parents. It was something that all of us accepted as part of school education. So be it.
Looking back it was one of the most enjoyable periods for most of us - the Malay students, from The Malay Reserved Coconut Plantations or the Indians and Chinese students reciding at some British Company Estates nearby. We were the happy lots in a mixed and multiracial society. We studied, played ( and even play truant ) together. We scored 100% passed for the school first LCE examination in 1957, a record still yet to be broken.

Then....there was this Vespa Piaggio 150cc scooter

Folks....

By now I could afford a brand new scooter. A Vespa Piaggio 150cc with Trengganu plate number TA 2135. It has a rotary valve engine, with 4 speed gear transmission, can travel top speed 85 KPH or 50 MPH. I bought it out of necessity. I have no other choice. Ideally I should help myself with a Ducati Motorcycle. A sporty and rugged piece of machine. Ducati Motorcycle was the statement of the time. Norton or Triumph motorbikes once ruled the road had lost their appeal for ‘the young & the wild one’ like us.
Why then, I offted for a Vespa Piagio 150cc. Am I out of my mind or lack of cash?
Firstly the prize of a 350cc Ducati was a bit too stiff. Secondly as a youth, I was of ‘the tame type’, not the ‘the wild ones’. Thirdly I bought the Vespa out of necessity because of its economic nature and the need to travel to and from school along Kuala Trengganu - Ulu Trengganu trunk road, a distant of 60 plus miles daily. The cost of public transport and bicycle daily rental were burning holes into my pockets. The bus ride from Kuala Trengganu to Wakaf Tapai alone would cost 60 cents one way. Then there was the need to hire a bicycle for kampong journey from Wakaf Tapai to Kampung Tanggol – a distant of not less than 7 miles, through rubber plantations and rice fields. That’s another 60 cents. Totalling a RM1.80 travelling budget per day. The only light and economical transport that I could think off was a 150cc scooter. Vespa Scooter could take the rough journeys, with minimum petrol consumption. A full tank petrol costing RM2.50, more than enough for a couple of days trip from Kuala Trengganu right to my school in the rural of Ulu Trengganu.
It was early 1963. I was on my first year teaching after graduating from College. With a mere RM250.00 monthly basic salary, and being posted in the far corner of the East Coast Malaysia, I need all the cash I could earn to support my hungry family I left behind in the Lower Perak District on The West Coast as well my daily expenditures away from home.
So Vespa Piaggio 150cc was a good alternative.
For a couple of years later the Vespa Piagio was my prized possession. Another was my portable Olympia Typewriter. Both were bought on my 2nd months in Trengganu. Both served me well, as a teacher and a freelance writer. A strange combination: true to the fact that I soon found my niche in creative writings positioning myself as a radio playwright hailed from the East Coast Malaysia that ruled the airwaves of Radio Singapura (1963-1966). I owed my early success to the slow cruising scooter drive to my place of work daily, and the humble typewriter faithfully waiting for me on my writing desk at home.
A scooter drive, normally smooth and leisure. At any time you hardly touch the maximum speed of 50 MPH. Vespa Scooter was not built for hell driving. Less manly, but comfortable. The 30 plus odd miles travel would take around 60+ minutes, each way cruising along the scenic Terengganu road.
Riding the scooter maked my idle mind positively encroached into thinking and watching lives went by around you. The bare bodied farmers ploughing their padi fields, the rubber tapers, the fisherman idled by the Monsoon Torrential Rain, the oddjob labourers, the petty traders, the land owners, women in the marketplaces, bystanders, loafers and gamblers gambling their daily earnings …..these are characters on the landscapes I passed through everyday. Their way of life indirectly influenced me, in my writings.
I wrote weekly radio plays for Radio Singapura, and periodically contributed short stories and articles for DBP, Utusan Malaysia & Berita Harian publications. It was a lucrative undertakings, as well fullfilled my burning desires in creative writings.
The Vespa Piaggio 150cc has been faithful to me. Undeterred, during school term holidays I rode the machine for a daylong distant journey from Kuala Trengganu, through Kuantan, Bentung, to Kuala Lumpur, then through Kuala Selangor along the costal road to Hutan Melintang and arriving at my village Tanjung Bayan, Hilir Perak some 14 to 16 hours later. Never once the engine breakdown, except that, I need to change the sparks plug anytime it got stalled in the yearly monsoon floods of the East Coast Malaysia.All along I made thousands scooter hours riding my Vespa Piaggio 150cc. By Allah’s grace, I was never involved in accident. So Vespa Piaggio 150cc was a good choice
for 'the young ones' like me. I never regret owing one.....though I got this crazy feeling of abandoning it for a more powerful machines, every time a Ducati 350cc overtook me. But then again, there were other considerations binding me.

...Of 'Basikal', 'Kereta Lembu', 'Sampan Kotak' and Motosikal BSA 350cc

Needless to say bicycle was the only mechanized transportation in my village before Merdeka. Although the kampong roads could fit in any kind of motor vehicle, the only heavy vehicle ever to be seen was a bullock cart, plying from the main road for the mile long journey carrying loads of sands, cements and pebbles, to Sekolah Melayu Sungai Pulau.

It was in 1951, the year Sekolah Melayu Sungai Pulau got an annex building with 4 classrooms, to fit in its growing pupil population. I was a 10 year old and was in Standard 3 then. It was a pity sight, seeing the bulls pulling the heavy laden cart through the unlabeled lane (Jalan Kampung) of Parit-15 to Sekolah Melayu Sungai Pulau.

I could smell the sweat, and out of pity, I choose not to stare at the weeping eyes, suffering from the strains of the heavy burden and the hot sun. Every now and then, their thin bellys got a few hard lashes from the handler, for the bulls to pull the cart forward every time the wheels caught in the muddy pools. The bulls groaned and pulled harder. The handler let go a few more lashes. The cart then moved forward – slowly - inch by inch.......

Of course the affordable few had bicycles for their daily transportation. Owing a bicycle means a lifelong luxury. A newly bought bicycle would normally be prominently parked at places of leisure or mosque for people to admire. The newly wed would cycled around the kampong visiting family members or a weekly visit to Pasar Minggu. A status symbol, yearned by most.

For the industrious few, bicycles were used to carry heavy burdens, or running daily errands. My father bought me a bicycle for my travels to school. He himself did not own any.

For his retails business buying and selling coconuts and copra he needed a much bigger means of transportation. He had a barge that can ply the monsoon drains carrying loads. The barge made of planks like a ‘sampan’, oblong in shape, 16 feet long 4 feet wide at both end, with an extra 2 feet width at the belly -(the Chinese called it ‘Tongkang’ while the Malays called it ‘Sampan Kotak’ because of its oblong shape). The barge about three feet high, could take around a dozen gunnysack of copra stacked together. The monsoon drains were built and managed by the then British Malaya Administration, lauded by the locals as the most comprehensive drainage system for the Malay Reserve Lands. The monsoon drains built with multipurpose role, not only to drain excess rain water to avoid excessive flooding, but also meant as suitable water transportation system for the villages. The barge would be pulled by workers using ropes and bamboo poles along the banks to ferry the load to the main road, where the copra are transported by lorry to the mills. Besides barges, there are also dugout canoes, normally used as water taxi by the residents.

A couple of years later in 1953, my father could effort a BSA 350cc motorbike. It was the pride of our family. Alas, he hardly rode it twice, as on the first try itself he rode through a roadblock and ditched into the monsoon drain. Luckily, though he escaped unscratched, but was reprimanded by Sergeant Md Dom, a friendly OCS (Officer In charge) Police Station, Simpang Empat. For some times after the incident, the BSA 350 cc motorcycle was parked untouched in the storeroom waiting for a potential buyer.

From then on my father choose to travel by foot, and by available public transport: bus, lorry, taxi, rickshaw or water taxi.

My Passion For Cars

It was a passion. Right from the time when I was a small kid, I loved cars, though at that tender age I hardly realised that we were too poor to have one. My parents could only provide me with a proper education in an English Medium School. My parents could only effort a bicycle for me to travel to and from school. Although there was a regular public transport, but the cost for the monthly season pass was stiff for daily earner like them.

So silly me, for my expensive passion for cars.

But then my Tok Anjang had a 6 cylinder Opel Kapitan rarely used, parked and covered with a ‘mosquito net’ under his house. It’s a blue saloon with white top. In school, my class teacher Mr.P.H.Nesarathnam had an MG Sport. Those are the two classy cars that I was earlier exposed to, and really adored. How I wished
Tok Anjang give me a ride in a manner Mr.Nesaratnam used to drive us home after a game of Hockey, Football or Rugby. It was so thrilling to be driven in his open hood MG sport with the evening wind gushing on our face.

So come school holidays my priority was to hang around my Tok Anjang’s house. I knew, I was one of his favorite. And I hoped that one fine evening he would take me for a ride in his Opel Kapitan, least knowing that Tok Anjang did not have a driving license.

Then who cares? Who need a driving license for a drive around our kampong. Surely Tok Anjang did not mind, and loves to give me the honour.

Least did I knew that the car has been parked unmoved underneath the house for a couple of months. Tok Anjang only used it whenever he needs to take his family for vacation in Penang, or visiting Pakchik Kanik studying at Al-Mashoor. I later learnt that he had a vacation bungalow in Tanjung Bunga, George Town, Penang and visited the Island regularly. Only for that purpose, he used the Opel Kapitan. He would engaged a freelance driver for a couple of week for that purpose. And then the car would again be parked in its present place underneath his Rumah Kotai covered with clothes.

Mak Yah told me that Tok Anjang was too scared even to be at the driver’s seat. He owns the car, but never drove it. What a pity.

“Driving a car looks easy. It’s easier than riding a bicycle or a motorcycle. You’re lucky if you can drive it. He may engaged you to drive him to Penang one of these days,” Mak Yah gave me the encouragement, least did she knew that one need a Driving License and a long period of apprenticeship tutored by a licensed driver to be one.

Now, there was this sudden compulsion in wanting to drive my Tok Anjang's Opel Kapitan. Mak Yah gave me the encouragement. I agreed driving a four wheel vehicle look easier than riding a two wheeled bicycle, I thought. If only I could influence my Tok Anjang to give me a try driving the Opel Kapitan. If I succeed that, the next would be driving it on to the kampong road.

Now I really need Mak Yah’s recommendation for that.

To my surprised, permission granted. And there was me seating at the driver’s seat. The engine ignited and a soft purring sound fills the air. Tok Anjang steped aside giving way for me to drive the car out to the compound.

Confidently, I pushed the clutch pedal with my left leg, and engaged the gear. Easy than I thought. Slowly I released the handbrake, and step hard on the paddle. So far so good. We're in business.

Then hell broke loose. The 6 cylinder engine gave a very strong jerk. The car jumped forward, nearly knocking the ‘tiang seri’ – main pillar of the Rumah Kotai.

Tok Anjang shouted at the top of his voice, asking me to be careful. He later jocked, that he was more worried of his prized car than me.

Luckily though the engine immediately stalled and nothing happened to me or the car.
I got the biggest shock of my life.

From that day on, I wowed never to drive other people car,
the discipline lasted till today.

I bought my first sedan a Borgward Erabella on my first teaching job in Ulu Trengganu way back in 1964.

And the passion never stops till the present day: Hillman, Ford, Honda, Proton, Volvo, & Benz. These are among my favorite and affordable brands

MALAY WEDDING BLITZ

When a couple decides to tie the knot a wedding aura suddenly fills the air. This goes without saying. The feeling of sensation quickly take charge especially to those close to the couple. Now; what was supposed to be the decision of the two has become the responsibility of many: parents, relatives and close associates. What was supposed to be a simple ceremony has become an intricate family undertakings. What was supposed to be a simple religious obligations, has developed to an ecstasy of family merriments. That was the way most Malay weddings were before, and that is still the way it is today.

Present day, school term breaks saw lots of Malay Wedding receptions full of traditions, pomps and styles. Needless to say that, the present Malays are getting more affluent and extravagan. These are reflected in most present day wedding ceremonies. Each family wanted to excel for the best.

Come school breaks, most of us would be bombarded with specially custom designed invitation cards. As one travels around the country signboards with colourful ‘bunga manggar’ displayed on most road junctions easilly catch the eyes. Even the Road Traffic Lights are not spared from being posted with these signboards.

It’s a phenomenon, and is constantly renewed with new trappings.

Nowadays Malay weddings befitting an up-market industry. In the like of The Rich and The Famous, The Upper and The Middle Class communities, wedding celebrations readilly command on an average of between RM50, 000.00 to RM100,000.00 per event. Some surpass the amount to a couple of million ringgits.These facts are true, though hard to believe to be real. But in the true sense that is what Malay Weddings are all about. The Mas Kahwin, The Hantaran, The Wedding Ring, The wedding dresses, the accompanying assessories ( mostly of branded items ) alone would cost to an average amount of between RM25,000.00 to RM50,000.00. Then the Akad Nikah reception and The Bersanding receptions both at the family house and at the dewan or the banquet halls of 4 to 5 star hotels for an average guest lists of 500 invitees for each.

Even the ordinary simple traditional village wedding ceremony would cost not less than RM40,000.00 per event.

There was this saying in Sabah: in a Bajau community the hantaran for the brides hand is by the number of Buffalo the groom must fulfill to be decided on the numbers of pillars there is in her ancestral home. Most rich bride come from a big ancestral house, with lots of pillar, and hence the family would demand more buffalo as the hantaran. To the Bajau the nature of the hantaran from the groom should always befitting the status of the bride’s family. And so wil the wedding receptions. If this is true for the Bajaus, then the same goes with other Malay etnics. Only the form, the nature, and the formula of how the hantaran to be, differs.

Weddings are blissful occasions. A Historical and auspicious moments especially for those dearly involved. Normally each occasion meticulously planned and executed by all concern. Marriage merriments blitz often surpass its limit. The plan, fluid but complex, largely influence by each ethnic's version of ‘Adat Perkahwinan’.

Even, way back in the Fifties and the Sixties when most kampong Malays were hardcore poor, rural Malay weddings still befitting the lustrous occasion it intended to be, resulting with the family having to bear the brunt of accumulated debts.

In Malay community, each and everyone positioned themselves as creative lots, when planning wedding events. Each wanted to include his or her own fair share in incoporating the ‘Adat Perkahwinan’. Some with minimum knowledge on the ‘Adat Perkahwinan' or having bare knowledge on how to design an event, still confidently position themselves as event managers. They ardently proved themselves as to be resourceful, experienced and creative with new innovations among their peers. This was so because wedding preparation those days directly involved close relatives, neighbors and friends. Family synergy reign high; and normally the practice was for them to senergized their effort befitting the Malay Saying: “Bulat Air Kerana Pembetung, Bulat Manusia Kerana Mufakat.”

Firstly the collective decision on the auspicious day. The chosen dates for the ‘Akad Nikah’ and ‘The Bersanding Ceremonies’ in close reference the Muslim Lunar Calender and in consultation with the local elders, Mualim or Imam. The announcement would be done during the ‘Bertunang’ or Betrothal Ceremony, a tradition still practiced today.

Most engagement would last for years. There were instances where couple was symbolically engaged right after birth. Pity though: they have to undergo a long wait from 15 to 20 years for the matrimony.

The checklist for a Malay Wedding event was common. Firstly relatives, family members were booked (invited) months in advance. The congregation of families from far and near for the events beginning a couple of weeks earlier. Together they plotted and planned the occasion. As usual the elders expected to be consulted on all matters pertaining to adat or tradition. Each likens their very own version, concepts and interpretation of the adat on the Family Traditions & Practices. Families from inter marriages sometimes loggerheads on the way of the Adat to follow. For example, Negeri Sembilan Malays The Minangkabau, and The Johore Malays The Bugis from Riau have their own set of well guarded matrimony customs & traditions.

Planning complexities at time caused resentments amongst relatives and family members. So are to the Perak Malays, Kedah Malays, Kelantan,Terengganu and Pahang Malays. Each Malay community is entitled to implement their own Adat Perkahwinan.

When close family congregate family gossips rules the day. Family squabble always put the host in awkward position. They are not expected to side any party as not to offend them. They abstained - have no say, except only to agree. The option the have was only to pray to Allah that all will be well on the D-day.

I remember in 1950 the Marriage ceremony of my Auntie Yah to her cousin, the 1st university graduate from our clan. Tok Anjang had to give way to the wishes of Opah Zaharah his elder sister that the groom would be brought in an air plane (model) for the Akad Nikah and The Bersanding ceremony befitting the groom status a graduate from Al Azhar, Mesir. Opah Zaharah insisted that the wedding procession to take place all the way from the groom’s residence about 2 miles away to Tok Anjang house. She claimed as The Godmother to the bride, she had the right to the decision. So a set of protocol for the agenda was to be planned, incorporating the wish of Opah Zaharah, plus additional wishes of other unties and uncles.

According to the plan the procession would be led by Pasukan Silat, Pasukan Kompang,Pasukan Pengiring, Pasukan Pembawa Hantaran, lead by Pasukan Pembawa Bunga Manggar with The Groom in the air plane in tow, to be followed behind by the Groom’s Family, relatives, neighbours and friends.

I was 9 then and was really looking forward to the occasion. I don’t mind the daylong journey down Bernam River by sampan from Tanjung Bayan to Bagan Sungai Tiang and the 3 miles long walk to Kampung Sungai Lancang.

We were a week early for the event. The tradition was that, a week before the ceremony, all close relatives far and near would converge for the Mengantung Ceremony, an occasion no close family members could abstain from. For that I had to skip class, (of course) this time with my parents’ permission. The school authority was duly informed. Permission granted as it was the end of final term.

May uncle Pak Long Ismail was to model and construct the airplane The plan was that; the mainframe of the airplane was to be constructed from materials of bamboo and areca nut trunk to withstand the weight of the groom (a physically sturdy 35 years old man). A chair was carefully tugged into the cockpit, meant only for the groom. It’s a one seater-airplane.

PakLong Ismail roped me into his committee. It was a proud moment for me. My role (with the help of my other uncle, Pak Pendek – we’re of the same age) was to trap alive as many Kumbang Hitam (a type of wasp with poisonous sting) we could. The technique was simple. A few Kumbang Hitam would be loosely wrapped into a piece of thin clothes. An empty can would be placed over them. By nature the wasp wings vibrate under the weight of the empty can. The vibrations would produced a droning sound like the sound of the distant plane. The empty can amplified the droning sound. How much the wasp suffered being sandwiched under those big cans nobody bothers.The louder the sound they produced the better.

Each wasp would last for some ten to fifteen minutes and need to be replaced.

The airplane model was completed in time. Tok Anjang and Opah Zaharah laud the result as a genius feat by Pak Long Ismail and his co-workers.

For the procession a few selected members from the Pasukan Silat was to carry the airplane life size model on their shoulders for the 2 miles journey from the Groom’s house to the bride’s place. As agreed Pak Long Ismail was to deliver the airplane to the Groom’s house before noon on the wedding day. Only then to discover that some basic thing was overlook by Pak Long Ismail and his builders.on the dimension and the size of the airplane. The model just could not be moved out from Tok Anjang’s house, that served as its hanger. The plane had a wing span around 20 feet long on each side. Tok Anjang’s house was situated right in the middle of coconut plantation. The rows of coconut palms that lined the path from Tok Anjang’s house to the main road are causing obstacles. It took them a couple of hours negotiating every palm tree for the 500 yards journey to the main road.

Luck was on their side. The processions did take place on time as planned, only that the airplane run short of proper runways at Tok Anjang’s compound. It landed some distant away. From there the groom have to be carried on the shoulder to complete his journey.

That was what I remember on Untie Yah’s wedding blitz before Merdeka, more than 50 years ago.

Then there was this incident a few years ago ( this time after Merdeka ) where an elaborate wedding procession became sour. This time the Groom had to ride on a decorated buffalo. The mishap happen at the bride’s house in a Melaka Village bordering Negeri Sembilan.The groom was from a nearby village in Negeri Sembilan. The two parties are of Minangkabau descendent. More so both parents were bosom buddies serving in the Malayan Police Force in Pahang during the Emergency. The bride and the groom grew up together in the police barracts and attended the same school in Temerloh District. They later pursue their University Education overseas. Both came back to Malaysia and became successful partners of a consultant firm. Their parents had by now retired. They resides in the respective kampongs, in Negeri Sembilan and Melaka.

Their bonds of friendship thicken with times, and what was just colleague in the force then now considered each other as close kin. More so their 2 kids were once ‘simbolicly betrotal ’(engaged ) as a symbol of their long lasting friendship.

There was no hitch on the long standing engagements for the couple. They took it as fated and Godsend (takdir Allah). On their own convictions they only plan to tie the knot after completing their studies abroad. It’s going to be a simple ‘akad nikah’ceremony, in a mosque and a small kenduri.

But during those long years of waiting, their parents had planned otherwise. They had put aside a big chunk of their savings for the wedding blitz. Each plan to host sumptuous wedding together with traditional trippings to be remember by relatives and friends. It’s going to be pageantry occasions, uplifting The Minangkabau family traditional cultures, values & customs with it pomp and grandeur.

The decision was; the groom to ride a ‘buffalo’ procession, the way wedding processions done some 50 years ago. Both parent wish must be fulfilled at whatever cost, though the groom and the bride argued otherwise. It’s their long standing wait for the auspicious event they have long dream of.

The reception at the bride’s house was full of pomp and colours. The event was accompanied by Dondang Sayang Party. The air was fills with oldies bringing back nostalgic feeling to the host as well the guests. The ambience war right. Everyone ready to party. There was also some foreign tourist in the crowd with their cameras covering the event.

As the groom arrived riding on a decorated buffalo, the bride was escorted to the main door to receive him. There were exchanges of Pantun from both sides. All went well as planned. The exchange of Pantun with stanzas well befitting both bride and the groom.

Suddenly there was this loud explosion of fire crackers as the climax to herald the procession. The buffalo jumped in shock, quickly released its burden before running into the padi field. Although, the groom’s best man was in tow, he was quite a distant behind the bull buffalo. Though he managed to grab the groom from falling down, but then the path to the house was slippery due to a shower earlier. Both the groom and the best man landed in a muddy pool.

MAY ALLAH BLESS YOUR SAFE RETURN HOME

Dear Dr.Sheikh Mudzaphar.

As an ordinary citizen and a fellow Muslim, I could only offer my prayer for your safe journey from space to earth. According to report your space capsule wold be entering earth and estimited touchdown today (21st Oct 07 - 6.30pm Malaysia Times.) I did my Sembahyang Hajat, pray to Allah for your safe return.
To most of us your achievement as being the first Malaysian Malay Astronaut would inspire young Malaysian on space science. Your landmark achievement is a national pride. It happen so sudden. Suddenly we are proud being the first Asean country sending an Astronaut to space.

Alhamdullillah.

'Tis Raya

'Selamat Hari Raya' from Space
13th September 07 – 1st Shawwal 1428, the 50th Raya after Merdeka. Truly 'Tis Raya is different from other Raya for most of us, Malaysian.

The months of Ramadhan & Shawwal significant to all Malaysian Muslims as well as our Muslim Brothers world over. Ramadhan: a month of soul searching and ‘guts testing’ for the less religious, and a very holy month for the devout Muslims. So the sighting of the first lunar of Shawwal signifies a month of rejoice and renewal of Muslim Brotherhood. Hence the yearly exodus of “Balik Kampung” by most Malaysian to to celebrate the auspicious occasion with their parents and family members. Together they offer prayers and submission to the Almighty Allah.

So like their Muslim brothers world over the beginning of Shawwal starts with a mass Prayer at Mosques and Suraus. “Allahu Akbar…Allahu Akbar..Wallillahilham….”

The celebration of triumph and joy, also signifies as one's personal accomplishment, a ‘tower of strength, soul searching to the Right Path, fulfilling the Five Pillars of Islam.

And an accolade for all Malaysia and the Muslim World over - the achievement of Dr Sheikh Muszaphar Shukor our very own astronaut orbiting in space right at this very moment. Last night he boarded the International Space Station, signaling Malaysia’s membership in the space community. As was reported Soyuz TMA-11 carrying Dr Muszaphar and 2 others (an American Peggy Whitson and a Russian Malechencko) docked on schedule with ISS at 6.52pm Moscow Time (10.52pm Malaysian Time). The spacecraft Soyuz TMA11 was launched from the Balkonurcosmodium in Kazakhstan on Wednesday 28th Ramadhan at 9.21pm commandeered by an American astronaut Peggy Whitson. “Selamat Hari Raya to all Malaysian on this historic occasion,’ greeted Dr Sheikh Muszaphar from space. He also greeted his proud parents. He is schedule to return to earth on October 21st. “A Standing Ovation’ to those responsible make it happens. World count he is the 8th Muslim astronaut travelling in space. The “Malaysia Boleh” spirit has taken us this far. A quantum leap for a nation with a mere 25 millions populations. I am proud it happen during my life time.

A Nostalgic Feelings:
Come Eid Fitri, I find it difficult to dismiss my nostalgic feeling on how we fare during those hard times. Till tis very day, some of my past years Raya feelings still vivid on my mind. Some 50 years ago in 1957 for example, my Raya was a bleak occasion at my rustic Kampong Tanjung Bayan with my family and kampong folks. We were hardcore poor then. I was 16 years old sitting for my Lower School Certificate Examination. My father’s illness has degraded from bad to worse. We don’t really know what he was suffering from, because he never had a proper medical examination. What we know of was that he was suffering from a terminal illness. His frequent coughs, vomit lots of blood. Some said he was suffering from Tuberculoses while others agreed that he was suffering from Cancer. However, the local Bomoh had a different opinion. He firmly believed that my father’s illness was the work of Witchcraft by a very close relative.

We grief in pain on our family misfortune. My father was the sole breadwinner. With his regular confinment on his sickbed, life was depressing for most of us. Earlier that year, it was decided that I drop from school as my family has no means to support me. (Those days we need to pay monthly School Fees to be in English School). My family has runout of 'means' to fund me. Later (after his short meeting with the Headmaster) my father changed his mind and fledged to support me through school. He was adamant. At time he would force himself fishing in Sungai Bernam for an extra Ringgit to support my schooling. Most of the time me or my mother accompanied him.

Come Raya, as most of his children were grown up, we dismiss the notion of having new dress like any other kids for the auspicious celebration. Discreetly I engaged myself on some odd labour job, moving loads of sand into barges at Hutan Melintang dockyard or cutting grass at Jandarata Estate. My father was devastated and scolded me for my effort. I was baffled by my father sudden outburst. I told him that I merely wanted to help. He did not talk to me for some days after that. Only later I came to know that someone visiting him on his sickbed, told him in jest that “his son an English School dropout now working as odd labourer moving loads of sand into barges at Hutan Melintang dockyard, an employment that need no proper Education.”

He died ( 2 years later ) a few months after my Cambridge School Certificate Examination result in 1960. Our family Raya after that was never the same, as we were brought up by a single parent – our mother.

And A True Sense Of Fullfilment
Come ‘tis Raya Alhamdullillah I am blessed with a healthy family. The first day of Raya was celebrated in Kelana Jaya with my siblings, friends and neighbours. A big turnout. Lots of food on the table. And “Duit Raya" for all children accompanying their parents, also for some single parents and ‘warga emas.’ My sister from Batang Kali and her sibling plus almost a dozen grand children was the last visitor on the first day Raya.
I was lost for words. The Almighty Allah has blessed our family. Alhamdullillah.

How long time has passed since our family struggles to make ends meet. How we missed our long departed parents. I longed wished we are together again as a big family spending the months of Ramadhan & the beginning of Shawwal at our family home in Tanjung Bayan. A worthy efford.......only if, it could be done!!!

Finally I persuaded them to joint me for The Kenduri Aruah & Korban at our Kampung Tanjung Bayan this coming Eidil Adha. Hopefully they would honoured my invitation.

THE FRIDAY NIGHT OF 16TH RAMADHAN 1428

The night was blessed by the attendance of families, colleagues and business associates. It was a historical happening for us in AD.verse. The Majlis Berbuka Puasa on the 28thSeptember 2007 (16th Ramadhan 1428) by the pollside at The Penthouse Metropolitan Square, Damansara Perdana was

a

auspiciouslly a religious affair. The embience was right, full of colour and splendure, as Ustaz Lt Col Kamaruddin sound the Azan for the Berbuka Puasa. The western sky was reddish as the evening sun set into the yonder horizon. I could feel a bit of mystically dramatic feeling as I ushered the guest to their tables, that on this very vicinity, once known as 'the domain of Orang Asli Temuan' tugged in a remote hills of Bukit Lanjan and Sungai Pencala, on the fringe of the business hub of Lembah Kelang, has developed into one of the newest upmarket business centre of Petaling Jaya. We're proud and honoured to be part of it.

Earlier Ustaz Lt Col Kamaruddin led the Baca Yassin and Doa Kesyukuran Sessions at AD.verse new office premise @ Suite C703, Centre Wing on the 7th floor right below us. .

Ku panjatkan Syukur kehadrath Allah atas kurnia Nya ini. Kami bersyukur pada segala anugerah Mu.
Ya-Allah jadikan bisnis keluarga ini terus maju.

'Sasungguhnya Allah tidak akan merobah keadaan sesuatu kaum sahingga mereka merobah keadaan yang ada dalam diri mereka sendiri.' (surah Ar-Ra'd:11)

Ya-Allah bimbinglah kami kejalan itu.