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.