THE RURAL POOR

Life was simple in the Fifties. At least for my Kampong folks from The Malay Settlement, for by virtue of our Malay descends as ‘the native son of the soil’ (kaum Bumiputra) we were categorized as Tuan Tanah/Land Owner - ‘Small Holders’ as against the vast Estate Plantations owned by European Planters. Most accepted it as honorable standings, that the British Colonial had positioned residents of The Malay Settlement as among the ‘well off’’ well above the ‘have not’ – the poor, the ‘landless’ or laborers in some Rubber Estates or Tin Mines.

Thus it was stated in my school record Father’s profession was that of a Land Owner or Tuan Tanah – a Small Holder, though I knew very well he was not. I remember our early dwelling was on an ancestral plot less than half an acre in size, known among the family circle as Tanah 2 Baris situated at Parit No 23 (Baruh). The plot consisting of two rows of coconut palms, left by his parents to be shared with his other 5 siblings. When his sibling sisters grew up the plot was too congested for their families housing needs. Father opted out. He moved our dwelling to a rented plot ¾ miles away at Parit 25 (Tengah).

It was on this rented plot that Father started his retail business, by means of ‘barter-trade’. Those days’ provision goods were exchanged with agricultural produce, as real cash was hard to come by. A lucky day’s cash sale saw only a couple of Ringgit turnover. Instead, we had loads of coconuts and other agricultural produce in his makeshift store next to father’s shop house. Later Father positioned his business as a local copra producer. He afforded himself with a Coconut Kiln taking advantage of the abundant supply of coconuts from The Malay Settlement.

His business was good and a couple of years later he enrolled me for English Medium Education in town. By now he could afford the monthly M$2.50 school fees plus other hefty consolidated and book fees. Time was hard then. It was easier to attend Malay School for free then going to town for English Education, expensive by local standard. You are lucky having an extra pair of school uniform on the first month of school, as there were other fees payments taking precedent. Nevertheless, Father has made his decision and the family must support.

I remember at times Father pawned Mother’s only jewelry for my school expenses with the promise he would redeemed them soonest. Mother did not mind the arrangement as long as Father fulfilled his promise. Mother reminded Father, that pair of gold bangles was her only prized possession left to her by her late mother. The only occasion she worn them was during her wedding ceremony with Father. Since then the jewelry was in some secret closet for safekeeping. Mother agreed, pawning them as collateral for my school expenses was a worthy cause, and through out my school days that pair of jewelry was my parent’s only valuable collateral for cash.

I owed them my heartfelt gratitude for their efforts and sacrifices.

(As time passed, I lost tract on that pair of Mother’s gold bangles. I presumed that after father’s death at the prime age of 52 in 1960, the pair of gold bangle was still lying in the pawnshop in town waiting to be redeemed. And no way Mother could redeemed it. Or on the night thieves burgled our house a few month’s after Father’s death stole all valuables including that pair of bangles. I believed the former. )

Now at 67 some 48 years after Father’s death, and as I enjoyed the luxurious view of the effluent Lembah Klang from my Penthouse Office at Cosmopolitan Square, Damansara Perdana, I realized how much things have changed for me. I am no more a village lad but an urbanized person, living in the comfort of a developed society. Gone are my simple rural livings in The Malay Settlement with Father, Mother and five siblings. Time passed by and I very much missed them. Had not for Father’s vision on my sound education and Mother’s sacrifices all along, I will not be what I am today. I would be growing up in the Malay Reserve Land, a dropout surviving with whatever odd jobs availed, like most of my other colleagues deprived of proper education. Most, to this day are still living on meager income. Some are in the bracket of hardcore poor living on the same plots left behind by their ancestors.

Sadly after 50 years of Merdeka and self-ruled my descendents in The Malay Settlement, the once acclaimed Tuan Tanah/Land Owner by the Colonial Master, are but a bunch of hardcore poor. Merdeka means nothing to them. It has not changed much improvement to their livelyhood. The existing infrastructure was no better than those left behind by the colonial master, some 50 years ago. And so are their life stories, that of a never-ending tales of hardships for ‘the son of the soil.’ – kaum bumiputra.

Until present time, I feel no stranger meeting them as I travelled the 30km stretch of coconut plantations covering the length of the Malay Settlement. Nothing changes, except some rundown buildings and some old coconut palms swaying in the evening breeze of Selat Melaka. Some occupants are still around, though most of their elders had passed away. We still remember each other’s first name, that of their siblings and the name of their parents and grand parents. Nothing changed much. Their (Rumah Kotai) ancestral homes like mine once the landmark of each family plot, still remained but lack luster, ruined with times and not fit for living. Others left unattended, and a few like Father’s Rumah Kotai, rented out for cheap.

The Malay Reserve Settlement itself was in dire state. After Merdeka as the demand for copra slacks, most moved out making their livings elsewhere. Those who remain in The Malay Reserve heartland opted to other means of livelihood by becoming odd laborers or inshore fishermen….or unemployed poor. Alas, to this day they are the still left outs and the hardcore rural poor.