YONG KALSOM

Legacy Of A Hardcore Poor

I will be 67 next week. My eldest first cousin Yong Kalsom who is 6 years older than me, would be 73 this year. As she is my only surviving elder, I like to dedicate this posting on her state of affairs as a hardcore poor all her life.

By chance I stumble into her last weekend at my nephew’s wedding reception, a week after PRU12 (Malaysian 12th General Election). The upturned unpreceded big swing of BN votes to the oppositions for Federal Parliament and to some state Legislative Assemblies was still the talk of the town. Hence throughout the wedding ceremony, local politics ruled the day.

In jest I asked Yong Kalsom how she feel on the outcome of PRU12, to which she hesitantly responded. "Nak kata apa?" (What am I to say.) Her answer was simple. “Macam tuu juga.” (Like always).

My next question was more provocative.

“Did you cast your vote?”

She nodded rigorously. Her gazing eyes caught me for a few moments. Then she gave me her usual grin. The sweet smile from this petite lady that I longed for. That sisterly smiling of hers rekindles fond memories of my yesteryears. As time remembers, she had been giving me those passionate smiles every time we were together. She was a person of not so many words but had always been mindful on others. I know her too well for that. We were closed since childhood, although most of our adult lives, we grew up apart. Her home has always been at our ancestral village Kampung Tanjung Bayan; unlike myself, after college education, I had been living around the country; firstly in Trengganu, then moved to Kuala Lumpur, later transferred to Penang, and on a special call of duty for a 2 year assignment to Sabah, then back in Kuala Lumpur and settled down in Petaling Jaya, Selangor.

“Whom did you vote for?”(Undi siapa?) This time I was more demanding. My inner feelings questioned my authority doing so.

Yong Kalsom was alert to respond. “I vote for the same party symbol as before.” (Saya undi parti yang sama macam dulu).

And again she gave me that passionate smile of hers. I was agitated to press for more definite answer from her, only my conscience stalled me briefly. Repeatedly I asked myself: “Why am I doing this?”

“Before it was the Perahu Layar now the Dacing.” (Dulu Kapal Layar sekarang Dacing). She honestly explained. I could see her eyes sparkles with pride. I was lost for words. She was honest all through.

For the record: Since Merdeka the constituents had returned the same party: UMNO -PERIKATAN later UMNO-BN. The Election Logo of PERIKATAN then was Perahu Layar ( a traditional Malay Boat with sail), later the logo changed to Dacing ( a Scale ) after PERIKATAN known as BN-Barisan Nasional.)

“But this time your party has lost the election. The constituency is now under the opposition,” I teased her in jest. ‘Dammed you, sucker!!’ I condemned myself.

Again she gave me the same passionate smiles. Then her lips moved. She uttered something I could not really grasp due to my tone deafness. But I could read her lips clearly. It sounds like: “Macam tuu juga” (Like always).

I remember a couple of years ago when I visited her in our ancestral village, she proudly announced that she had successfully installed a pipe water supply to her dilapidated dwelling. She was so proud of the new facility; for she need not cycled some kilometers away for a supply of fresh drinking water or make do with available rain water collected.

Long before Merdeka the Malay Settlement was provided by The British Colonial with a (free) public water supply. After Merdeka; only the affordable villages living along the pipelines were given the option to install the facilities to their homes. By ‘Kampong Standard’: having pipe water supply to one’s home, is considered a luxury living. So it was a long wait for Yong Kalsom to afford the available facility and enjoy the luxury.

The 50 years wait was never too late for her. Unfazed, the following year she affords herself with the supply of electricity. I presumed the long wait had fullfilled a lifetime achievement for her, as both electricity and water supply lines run along the trunk road less than 100 meters from her home.

Yong Kalthum has been a hardcore poor all her life. She had no formal education, neither any working skill. She lived by the day doing casual labour. I remember she had a hard childhood brought up by her mother Auntie Uda, a single parent. She and her younger sister were child labourers. They used to tag along with their mother venturing out of our village as far as 30 to 50 kilometers away to Sungai Manik, Labu Kubung in Perak or Sungai Besar or Sungai Leman in Selangor looking for seasonal odd jobs, planting or harvesting padi. They were not paid in cash, only given free foods and accommodations plus a few gantang of rice for each to take home after a complete harvest. That was the norms then, people usually engaged in odd labours in exchange for foods. At other times the family would tend their ¼ acre TOL agriculture land planting vegetables.

I vividly remember, way back in the sixties the family would attended to my father’s Rumah Salai Kelapa ( Coconut Kiln ) before dawn each morning for a couple of week each month during coconut harvesting seasons. My father was a small time coconut harvester, running his own Coconut Kiln producing copra. Each was paid a daily wage of around 20 to 40 cents, depending on the amount of dried copra each managed to separate from the coconut shells. It was a couple of hour’s job from dawn to daybreak. The rest of the day would be tending to their vegetable plot or doing other odd jobs in the Malay Settlement. I really adored them.

To this day, and some fifty years into Merdeka, after 2 marriages with no children ( except for an adopted daughter, now married and living in the same village ) after 3 deaths (her mother, younger sister and 2nd husband) and after successfully performing the Hajj in Mekkah, Yong Kalsom never fail doing her daily round in the Malay Settlement on her rickety bicycle looking for odd jobs. And at 70 years plus, she is still at it to support herself, as a hardcore poor.

What a life she has gone through and a pathetic tale to post in this blog. But that is what it is. Believe it or not: the legacy of hardcore poor still exists in our so-called affluent nation.

“Are you being looked after by the Welfare Department?” the final question suddenly popped out from my mouth.

She looked confused.

“Adake terima wang kebajikan dari Kerajaan?” I rephrased my question.

She shook her head vigorously.

“Tak mandang.” ( ‘Never’ as in local dialect )

“Orang politik ta’pernah tanya ke?” I provoked her.

Diligently, she shook her head.

“Kenapa?” (Why?) I demanded for an answer.

“They said I was never a party member.” (Kata mereka saya bukan ahli parti.)

I was flabbergasted. Poor Yong Kalsom. How can they do this to her?

Politik aside; someone need to rectify her state of affairs. She maybe one of the many village hardcore poors unattended to. One only need to go around and ask.

The incumbent BN palimentarian or the new Opposition State Government please take note.