LEST I FORGET

I choose to end this 'sort-off hurley-burly year 2009' on self reflections. While fellow bloggers around me are enjoying their new found medium to communicate effectively, while some taking advantage the new on-line media offers to  'championing issues', 'criticize' or ‘mudsling’ things not in their favours, I consoled myself on posting my thoughts. As an active blogger I refrained from using the new media ‘abusing others’, neither to further my self-interest promoting personal agendas.

I like to consider all of my ‘Blog Postings’ as assessments of some 'defining moments', reminiscences of my past growing up years.

I beg to differ on the notion ‘in order to be successful we should look forward and forget the past’. I believe it’s the past that launched the future. So was our beloved country’s 52 years Merdeka to date, that had positioned the nation sovereignty in the global sphere after more than 500 years colonised by the west.

Least to say, the nation had awakened from it’s ‘atrophy state’ - a long-lasting ‘slumber’.So were we, my family and all fellow citizen of this blessed country of ours.

I grew up in a humble family with meagre income. Father and Mother toiled the land to bring in enough food to feed my siblings. To the present day ratings - we were in the category of the ‘hardcore poor’. In fact most dwellers of my village fitted that billing.

I was 16 when this beloved country achieved its independence. For some 50 years on I had witnessed the country undergoing massive changes. The big paradigm shift had spurred the country as a successful developing nation with a legacy of good governance in place. We applaud the sacrifices of our independent fathers and the excellent work of our visionary leaders. By now all good citizens should adhere to the notion Malaysia is on the right path to being a fully developed nation. We could be if we are focus and synergized our efforts unconditionally.

I remember, during the pre- and post-Merdeka periods the nation was under siege and threats of communist insurgencies. Early fiscal development saw the nation having to burden the heavy cost of national security and people’s freedom to go about their daily chores. Eradication of poverty was the core agenda of the newly self-ruled Federation of Malaya. Proper national policy was put in place prioritising on matters of national as well regional interest. The early goings was not easy, as the severity aggression of Communist Malaya guerrilla warfare, amidst threats of Indonesian confrontations on the formation of Malaysia had the country’s sovereignty put to test.

God willing Malaysia had survived as an independent and a democratic nation. I chanced witnessing 13 free General Elections. Also as public servant for 35 years I was on dutycallsto most of them. Till the 13^th General Election early March this year as a citizen of a free democratic nation, I ardently fulfilled my duty by going to the poll, casting my votes without fear or favour.

Borned during the Japanese Occupations of 1941-1945, brought up during colonial administration, Merdeka means a lot to me. Growing up as a Kampong Boy, and pursued a lasting career as a public servant for 35 years on – a fulfillment of a citizen’s dream to serve his newly independent nation.

For some 52 years of Merdeka, our leaders had put in place a solid social development premise for the nation to progress. We the people have to collectively brave the odds. The future is for us to follow through.

So is the new leadership’s war cry of ‘One Malaysia’ calling on the 'rakyat' to lead this country together as one nation. We are ‘rakyat’ of multi ethnics, religions and cultures. As ‘rakyat’ our co-existence built on solidarity in diversity is inherent to Malaysia as an exemplary unique nation on the global stage.

50+ years of self-ruled had transformed our beloved country from scarcity to plenty. It has become a land of opportunities widely sought after by many.

However the new millennium has brought in massive paradigm societal changes to fellow Malaysian. We are now bracing an era of information explosion of the digital age. We become dwellers of a global village and citizen of border less world. Technological advancements have influenced our self-beings. Information technology has reached its prime role as self dependent media within everybody’s reached. Personal privacy has no legitimate owing; we are now akin living in glass houses.

We are also of the opinion that our generations are of the lucky lots, not realizing we may be blinded by the massive on-slough of 'negative influences' via mass connectivity at the control of the fingers.

At of this very moment while we are all engrossed on the count-down heralding the New Year 2010 a decade has passed since we crossed the threshold to the New Millennium, a new age of IT Transformation.

For the fact that we had become technologically savvy, we ardently advocate affluent livings as parameters of the well developed.

Do we?

This old saying aptly could be a guiding star for our future endeavors: “Once you decide to follow an uncharted route, it will lead you to another and another, and finally to many others. So behold your right destination, before you decide to take on one.”

That's All Folks. Happy New Year.

.

THE VILLAGE BULLY

For reasons knowbody knew Din was known as the village hooligan – a ruffian and a tough guy. He was the sameseng kampong – a leader of sort to a gang of hoodlums. Parents warned their children not to associate themselves with him or his gang.

But Father had a different opinion and termed him or his friends as 'merely' harmless village bullies.

He had a well build physique and was tall and handsome. It was no secret that some women folk loved his flamboyant lifestyle as he had the persona of the popular film star Sharif Dol of Singapore Jalan Ampas Film Studio fame of that period. Yes, he was the Sharif Dol of my village, secretly adored by the ladies and loudly detest by the men folks.

We were of different age level then. He was a grownup while I was still a junior. I knew him as he used to frequent the only grocery store in our neighbourhood managed by the proprietor’s new wife.

Later there was this hush-hush news on the birth of a baby girl out of wedlock in our village. The identity of the mother was put under wrap, and the baby girl was immediately offered for adoption. Little was known who fathered the baby girl, while some believed the village Sharif Dol was the culprit.

Soon after the baby girl was adopted and became the pride of a childless couple.

Rumours had it that our Sharif Dol had absconded to a faraway place for sensitive reasons only known and discussed amongst a few village elders. Also was the reason on the sudden closure of the only grocery store in our neighbourhood, and the proprietor’s young wife gone missing. Some had it that the couple had marital problems. They were divorced. The wife returned to her parents in a faraway village. It was also rumoured that she eloped with Sharif Dol.

Whatsoever those sordid affairs were eventually forgotten and buried with times and so were Sharif Dol and his gang of hoodlums.

*****

The sudden demised of my eldest cousin Yong Kalsom on the 2^nd Muharram came as a shock to me. She was a 75 years old and an all times hardcore poor. (A piece on her life struggles was posted on this blog March last year as part of my PRU13 postings.)

Only a couple of days ago I remembered and missed her.

As the funeral was to be after Zohor prayer, I braved the wet weather and drove the 200km route back to my ancestral village Tanjung Bayan to pay my last respect. I was received on arrival by her adopted daughter and her husband.

Villages, neighbours, as well close relatives were at her funeral. Except for some close nieces and nephews, I hardly knew most of the attendees.

I admitted that I had been for some 40 years now, living apart from my ancestral village and seldom returned. And as I reminiscence the good old days brought up as a Kampung Boy, I recognised a familiar figure walking with a limp entering the compound, from the main road not too far distant away. Somehow I recognized that familiar face as our once renowned Sharif Dol. I couldn’t believe my eyes, as the lonely figure hobbled towards where I was sitting almost unnoticed by those present. Eagerly I approached him. We exchange greetings and shook hand. Rightly, he was Din the once flamboyant Shariff Dol of Kampung Tanjung Bayan.

I remember it was sometimes in the late fifties I last saw him. He may not remember nor recognised me, but it was him alright.

Later he sat by himself underneath the house, cutting a lonely figure as a frail old man. At times his eyes half closed and his lips trembles. While some others paid their last respect and leaved, he waited till the end of the funeral rites and joined the imam for the Jenazah Prayer.

****

Later that evening while driving back to Petaling Jaya, the chance of meeting long lost relatives and some kampong folks and also Din the village Shariff Dol of the late fifties at Yong Kalsom funeral brought back fond memories growing up as a Kampong Boy in the Malay Settlement. Some loose fragments of past memories concurred vividly in my mind as I tried to piece in my mental picture frames the proper ‘continuity’ on the changing events that were long forgotten.

I was flabbergasted on the dramatic ‘rought cut’ that my wild mind finally assembled, connecting some of those happenings to the timely adoption of my adopted niece.

Hopefully I was not influenced by the miss conception and wished Hajar was duly informed and had met her true biological parents whoever they maybe. Wallahualam.

As for now she and her family need to collect the pieces ( if any ) and go on with their lives.

Alfatihah for Yong Kalsom.

Looking Back

This month exactly 50 years ago I sat for Cambridge School Certificate/Federation of Malaysia Certificate of Education examinations.

This week on the 18^th November 2009 Aizat the eldest of my 8 grandchildren is experiencing his first taste of the equivalent public examination – SPM-Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia. This year saw some 600plus thousands of candidates compared to a couple of thousand five decades ago.

Looking back, our school days back then were totally different from what they are today. Secondary School Educations were only in big towns. As there were no hostel facilities, students from the rural areas have to travel the long journey to school by bus. It was time consuming as well expensive. There was no other alternative; either attends school in town or abandon studies. Some of my classmates from the rural areas opted for the latter. I nearly drop out of school as Father was ill - suffering from terminal disease. But Father was adamant and forced me to continue my study in town.

Taking the long journey to school by bus meaning waking up at 5.00 am each morning to catch the 1^st bus to town at 6.00 am. At times I cycled the 30 km route, because I could not afford the monthly bus fare.

Later we shared a rented room at the rear of a Malay Barber Shop at Masjid Melayu, Teluk Anson (now Teluk Intan). The room was small only enough as sleeping area for the 6 of us. Most nights after Isha prayers we normally parked ourselves in unused spaces at the mosque doing our preparatory studies. Practically we live and study in the mosque. The Imam was kind enough allowing us to use the mosque facilities. We were also given excess to some empty room at his Mardarsah next door, only if we could effort candles for light.

Text books were expensive as they were all published and printed in England. For each year RM100.00+ needed for text books alone. The amount equivalent to RM1000.00 today. Then again there were the monthly school fees and other club fees to be paid.

At times l secretly work odd jobs to help eased the family burden. But Father did not like the idea. Once he found out, for weeks he ignored me. (Maybe he was too proud that I was the only lad from our neighbourhood studying in an English School in town then.) Mother explained that I need the extra money for my schooling. Instead Father pledged to sell out the little property he had to support my study through Form 5.

According to Mother the only property he had then was our house and the plot where it stood. Selling it, meaning our family had no other place to go.

I remember while in Form 4 and during the school Third Term Holiday, I got myself employed as a temporary clerk at a Pineapple Canning Factory for 6 weeks. I was paid RM180.00 for the job. Part of the income was used for my extra pair of new school uniforms, costs of Form 5 text books as well payment for SC/FMC Examination Fees.

Throughout my Form 5 studies, Father’s illness was getting worse and most of the time he was bedridden. Meaning I had to shoulder all the family’s shortcomings, as well prepare for my SC/FMC Examinations. For a 17+ years old, it was the most challenging period of my life.

That was how it was.

Alhamdullillah we managed to overcome all obstacles. I scraped through. The SC/FMC examination results were published in the English Dailies early the following year. I was overjoyed with the result and so was Father. He kept the newspaper cutting under his pillow and eagerly showed them to whoever visited him on his sickbed.

Alas Father passed away a couple of months later at the age of 52.

Alfatihah.

Happy Birthday Aizat

My feeling was 'over the moon' on being around to celebrate my eldest grandchild's birthday bash on the eve of his 17 year of age last evening. It was done on a very modest scale.

We were the earliest guest, arriving during Maghrib. Soon after the others joined in. It was sort of a close nit All In The Family Garden Party – attended by Grandpas & Grandmas, uncles and unties together with Aizat's 4+3+1+2 first cousins and also his 3 sisters.

According to the law - Aizat would reached the age of majority on his next birthday. A shift to adulthood; hence the simple celebration. No balloons, no fanfare, no normal handout of birthday kits for the kids to spoil themselves. I was certain it was planned that way by his Mummy and Abah.

Only that, ( I observed ) the birthday cake had this 'symbolic overture'. I have yet to ascertain.

Between Grandpa and His Grandson, me and Aizat had this small 'open' secret. As a grownup, like any other kids Aizat aspires to drive..... He told me this in not so many words. I advised him; firstly he need to have a valid driving licence before being allowed on the road. He could get himself enrolled at a Driving Institute after his coming Exams. I promised him to persuade his Abah & Mummy if they are against the idea.

'Aizat!!....Its a model of a car. A mini cooper?' I exclaimed as the birthday cake being brought forward. 'Aizat.... now TokBabah can assure you that you are going to have what you have been expecting for. Only that you have to give your very best shots for your forthcoming SPM exams. Make your Abah, Mummy, your siblings and all of us proud of you; gratitude would fill your days.'

Now for entertainment – a debut performance by the birthday boy himself singing and playing the guitar. Tok Babah was lost for words. It was 'like' only yesterday I drove you (as a tiny tot) around Kelana Jaya; with frequent stops at someone front gates to intimidate their guard dogs. Together we enjoyed responding to the angry barking and howling of those agitated canines. Then we proceed on and on, saying 'meow' to any cat 'purring' from brick gateposts. Spontaneously we giggles together. At a point TokBabah nearly drove the car into a drain...ha..ha..ha.

It was those little adventures we had together, a secret Tok Babah cherishes. Of course you don't remember the frequent drives we had, as you were too small then and just learning to walk. In the first place TokBabah should not have taken you for the drive. I did so, because I did the same to your Abah when he was a tot of your age, only he was placed on a special rattan chair hung suspended on the front seat of my old Borgward Arabella, TokBabah's and TokMama's first car.

(You cannot find Borgward Sporty car models on Malaysian road nowadays. Those days only a handful of Borgward Arabella sporty supermodel car could be found on the Malaysian road. Tok Babah was proud to own one.)

So Aizat, happy birthday. Now that you are 17, you and I can talk man to man. I hope your Abah would do the same to you.

We love you earnest and TokBabah & TokMana always pray to ALLAH for your better health, and successful future.

With All Our Loves -

TokBabah&TokMama

AMAN RIMBA

It was Friday evening on the 2^nd October 09. We arrived at Aman Rimba - Private Estate, before dust.

Sabri & Wati were on hand to receive us.

Before we could finish our eidfitri greetings Sabri had already 'jockeyed' my car to a small parking space close by.

Next follows the welcome drink, all in the tradition of a luxury hotel.

The dinner invitation includes an overnight stay at their vast private estate. We were immediately checked in to a posh villa overlooking a big fish pond, instead we opted for a smaller chalet by the swimming pool.

Shortly after jemaah maghrib prayer at the newly built surau we were ushered to a specially laid out private dinner table for 10: 'the menu of complete western cuisine to be presented by our new chef.'

Over the years Aman Rimba had transformed to be an exclusive private estate in the green luster of Janda Baik. It was a mixture of traditional and modernity outlook. Sort of an up-market private resort. It took them 13 years to realize a dream, putting in place their personal touches - I believe inspired by their holidays in Bali sometimes early 1997. Honestly I remember having a glimpse of their proposed rough drawing concept some 13 years ago. (Mind you, this old man rarely forget).

It was customary for the guest to give a speech after a sumptuous dinner. I felt honoured to be allowed to. In my short thanksgiving speech, I reminiscenced how we stumbled on Aman Rimba piece of property.

It was on a hot afternoon in 1996*. Sabri was taking me for a round trip to this rustic corner tugged in a hilly remote Bukit/Genting Sempah of Selangor/Pahang border– some 30 kilometers away from the bustling Kuala Lumpur.

Enthusiastically Sabri drove me to almost every nook and corner of Janda Baik. He showed me a couple of vacant plots he loved to own, but failed in all his bits. Like a child craving for a play toy, Sabri narrated his bitter feelings. I was hooked and sympathized with him.

At a point, while we were at our last stop by a running stream Sabri eagerly wanting to check with the owner of a house on the opposite bank for any vacant plot nearby for sale. The house looked empty, but Sabri was convinced the owner was around as there was a thin burning smoke at its compound. It was already late and I felt tired and thirsty. Out of desperation, I pointed to a nearby connecting lane running west parallel to the river. I said; ' Sabri, trust me, your piece of property is at the end of that lane.'

Called it fixated or possessed, Sabri quickly reversed the four wheel drive and drove up the trail to the end. We stopped at a blockage. Right in front was a green meadow.

It was a 'rezeki jatuh keriba'. ALLAH's willing, on that very evening we struck a deal with its owner. Weeks later Sabri & Wife owned the said property which they affectionately named AMAN RIMBA.

Selamat Hari Raya.

----------------------------

*Note: On the 3rd or 4th week Shawwal 1417 - exactly 13 years to this date.

MY LONG-SHORT STORY OF CENSORSHIP WOES

I had this to share. My experiences on the 'hype' of censorship by 'certain quarters' on things 'they considered' deemed unfit for Malaysians.

I experienced all form of media 'censorship' right from the date I was first commissioned as a 'fully-fledged' Television Practitioner – as RTM employee in 1971.

Having served Radio Television Malaysia for more than 30 years, (retired in 1996 as RTM Managing Director) and with the emergence of multilevel mass communication outlets, I am of the opinion that there is now the need to 'redesign' and reform the country's censorship act.

I remember, as a Public Broadcaster, right from it's inception, RTM's programming 'gate keeping' censorship was 'fluid' yet 'rigid'. Government policy and public interests must be adhered to fully. And those policies changed with times.

No programme considered fit for broadcast without undergoing stringent censorship and approved by Ministry's of Information Directorate as well The Government Censor Board.

Even Government Sponsored video or film campaigns were not spared. Some had to go under the axe if they failed to fulfill the censorship demands.

I remember 2 filmlets on Government Road Safety Campaign were put on shelves because the characterisation and the slant of the dramatic sequences considered racial.

I remember a 'commercial film' for a bank, portraying a particular community as 'watchman' with the tag line STRONG AND FRIENDLY was rejected for tv commercial 'spot buy'. That community complained that the portrayal was not done in good faith. Also sequences such as the slaughtering of cattle for Aid-Adha offerings would certainly go under the scissor, as the act would offend the Hindus. Nor do a Muslim Actors performing Non-Muslim religious ritual in a local TV Drama allowed on the screen. There are many other thrifty-gritty sensitive elements being added to the rules and would be implemented totally.

As such many of RTM's very own production had been banned or heavily censored.

One of the special Made for TV Movies, I produced for Aidilfitri in 1974 entitled SAYANG MAS MERAH was taken off the network on the eve of Hari Raya Celebration in spite of its earlier massive media promotions. The main character a Chinese, acted by singer cum actor Andre Goh was portrayed in a scene having a brawl with some Malay youths. The Ministry rated it as too 'racial' and disapproved the sequence. Unless I chopped the whole scene or the production banned. I off ted for the latter.

Even Tom Jone Musicals were not spared the ban; for reasons the singer's bare breasted attire conspicuously dangling a scripture medallion on his hairy chest as he swings in rhythmic ecstasy, the trademark of all his shows. Reason given - the show not fit for Muslim viewers.

Tun Razak Hussein our 2^nd Prime Minister had a cameo role in one of Filem Negara's Production THE GREEN BOOK on Rural Malaysia's Development project. The dramatised blockbuster documentary was sponsored by a private firm, meant for public screening in the theatres and the Mobile Units. The documentary never got to the tv network, because there was a scene of a Malaysian Cabinet Meeting, where The Prime Minister bang his fist in desperation for some unresolved problems at hand. 'They were' of the opinion that the particular shot would tinted Tun's soft spoken personality, as well discredit his cabinet. The decision was to censor it.

(Who would dare to snip off Prime Minister Tun Razak sequence in that high profiled documentary without his consent. Neither, who would have the courage to seek Prime Minister's consent, in the first place. I don't think my boss would, or even my Minister dare take the risk.)

So the idea of telecasting the documentary for public viewing ( for that particular period ) was left in oblivion.

The tight censorship policy was real challenges for us in RTM as well other media practitioner and the production houses. As far as RTM was concern (until late 1980es) no local programmes were outsourced to private production houses.

The Ministry of Information was noted to be too strict in assessing all programmes for telecasts. It's in house 'censor board' were more stringent in enforcing its own set of rulings than that of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Lyrics, dialogues, multiracial/multi religious castings, political or cult's ideologies, cultural promotion and interpretations must follow MOI rigid set of rules.

There was a totally different set of rules for shows performed in a converted stage in the amusement halls or stadium to those performed for the mass media.

Present day, what is being staged around you, would eventually be access to television and other online multimedia viewers.

Furthermore, pop artistes persona's are 'star rated' based on their self personification. Mostly on multilevel self image representations, some are personal, sordid and incoherent, not suitable for the young minds.

Take for example, the much talk about the objection by PAS Youth Wing on the American Superstar Beyonce's Concert in Kuala Lumpur on Oct 25^th.

"Beyonce Promotes Hedonism", says PAS."We know that these groups are not suitable for our Malaysian culture. Their appearance and attire are against our Eastern identity."

Beyonce's followers in the country were devastated on the objections. They aired their desperation as well put forward all the justification they could, supporting the show to proceed. Even Dato'Seri Dr Rais Yatim, The Honorable Minister of Information joined in the foray, citing that The Ministry would have no objection if Beyonce is dressed accordingly.

PAS Youth was quick to respond: "Even if Beyonce were to dress in a Jubah (Muslim Attire) she was still known for her 'sexy image'. We are against Western entertainment that promotes bedonism. We do not want our youths to be misled. We have in the past objected to Indonesia dangdud artiste Inul Daratista performing in Malaysia as she is also well known for her sexy gyrations."

Now, here we go again. No consensus of opinion. Each beating around the bush. Each follows their very own set of rules.

For whatever it is the 'gate keeping' process on activities touching on racial, religious and cultural sensitivities amongst the Malaysian Society still staggering at its infancy stage. Say what you like, it still the unending tales of desperation, ' a thorn in the ass ' to most aspirants.

I suggest, it is time to formulate a standard set of 'fool proof' rules enacted by the government to be adhered to by Producers and the Performing Artistes. Banning a show based on some public outcry would mean setting an unprecedented precedent. On the other hand 'allowing' such an act would not earn an extra credit to the population, except that it satisfies the follower's few.

The degrading of morality amongst the young has been of concern to most. More than 60% of Malaysian population are below 50es. There is this believe that, the influx of western cultures in our midst would for the foreseeable future form a society of a mixed east-west broods. And the very thought of our very own social and cultural heritage succumbed to foreign influences not to the favour of most Malaysian.

Come RAYA

Most likely the 1st of Shawwal this year would fall on Sunday the 20th September 09.
The month of Ramadan saw Muslims world over passionately fulfilling their Ibadah. In mosques and suraus Muslim performed Terawih Prayers followed by sessions of Kiaimulai. They beseech Allah’s forgiveness by offering ‘sunat prayers’, ‘doas’, giving out alms to the poor, reciting and understanding the teaching of Al’Qur’an as well performing all other compulsory religious obligations - attributions and covenant to Allah.
Come Shawwal Muslim world over herald Eid Fitri as a day of liberation. A period of deliverance and rejoice, a deserving celebration for most, with relatives, neighbours, colleagues and society at large - despite their different ethnics, religion or faith.
Most Muslims in Malaysia choose to celebrate Eid Fitri with their close kin at their ancestral homes in the villages. Hence the once a year exodus of ‘Balik Kampung’. Malays which form the majority of Malaysian Muslims are close nit families. Aptly Eid Fitri as the opportune time for them to forge acquaintances amongst siblings, relatives, neighbours, old collegues as well other village folks.
The Eid Fitri morning starts with special Eid Fitri prayer congregation at the local Mosque or Surau. Some would visit the ancestral graves of their long lost also visiting the elders. The day would be spend receiving visitors or visiting others in the neighbourhood. There are spreads of traditional cooking to everyone’s delight. Some of those traditional recipes take months to prepare, hence they are considered as the local specialities. Each household would have its own festivity ambience, serving some of the family’s known close guarded recipes. This uniqueness beckons togetherness amongst close kin, hence the urge of ‘Balik Kampung’ favourable to most. Those spending Raya away from home would consider themselves as missing a moment in time. They not only missed the traditional ‘Kampong Raya’ galore with close loved ones, but missed the uniqueness of one’s a year local gourmets.
Evidently Eid Fitri is a festivity of tolerance where the young and the old would seek for each other’s forgiveness. This act of ‘moral cleansing’ strengthened Muslim Brotherhood as Eid Fitri is an appropriate time to advocate the forbearing concept of Islam.

To err is human, to forgive Devine.

To all Muslims –
Selamat Hari Raya, Maaf Zahir Batin.

'Merdeka! Merdeka!! Merdeka!!!

31st August 1957 - Malaya 'Merdeka'. I regretted to this day since 52 years ago for not being able to attend The Merdeka Proclaimation Celebration at Stadium Merdeka, Kuala Lumpur. I was 16 then and in Form 3 at a Government English School. Being in the most senior class, we were offered special student passes to attend this auspicious and historical occasion. School Principal Chegu Rahim personally encouraged us so, on condition we had close relatives staying in Kuala Lumpur.

The offer inspired me most. For long I had wanted to visit the capital city. I had 2 uncles living in Kampong Dato’Keramat. They had been encouraging me to visit them. The long desire of visiting the cosmopolitan city, the chance to be invited to the newly built Stadium Merdeka and the lure of witnessing ‘Merdeka Fireworks Display at The Lake Garden very much influenced my decision. For once, I had valid reason to take the offer.

‘Kuala Lumpur, here we come.’

However Chegu Rahim adviced that we should provide his office with letter of consent from our parents.

But father was quick to discourage me. Father was more concern of my safety. It was not safe for a 16 year old the long bus journey alone to Kuala Lumpur along stretches of ‘curfew areas’. Then again, one had to change buses 5 times along the route. The total distance from my Kampung to Kuala Lumpur was around 150+ miles. The narrow roads to Teluk Anson, Bidor, Sungkai, Slim River, Tanjung Malim, Kerling, Batang Kali, Rawang right to Kuala Lumpur passed through lonely stretches of vast rubber estates, small villages, unattended orchards, meanding through hilly dense jungles in communist infested areas and were unsafe for ordinary travelling. Father said some stretches were famous for regular occurrences of communist insurgences.

Commuters along those curfew stretches were not to carry foodstuff or medicines. They had to pass many road blocks for their travel documents to be checked by the security forces. The communist terrorists would ambush and burnt vehicles, rob passengers of their belongings, travel permits and identity cards before escaping into the deep jungle. The terrorists needed those documents for their daily movements for foodstuffs and medication.

Mother tried her best to convince Father. Discreetly she told Father that I had been in touch with cousin Ismail in Kuala Lumpur about my attending the Merdeka Celebrations. Ismail was quick to respond and the date of my travel was fixed. Ismail would wait for my arrival at Kuala Lumpur bus depot on the evening of 30th August.

Father reiterated it was a journey not worth taking. Approaching Merdeka the communist propaganda machines had continuously threatened to destabilize the country with force. The threat was serious. I could easily be involved in an ambushed and be killed.

Father’s decision was final. I was devastated.

No Kuala Lumpur trip for me, meaning not attending the Merdeka Proclamation Ceremony at the stadium, or witnessing the fireworks display at the Lake Garden on the Merdeka night.

Alas my desire to be part of our nation’s history shattered. It was a lifetime occasion that I should not missed. The date and the event would be etched in the nation as well the world modern history. And I had the chance to be at part of that history.

Malaya of the Malay Archipelago had been colonised by the western powers for more than 500 years. As of 31st August 1957 we would be a free Nation. ‘Merdeka’ means ‘freedom’, free from colonial rule. Indonesian got its independence in 1945 and had just celebrated its ‘Merdeka’ day on the 14th August. The Indonesian had to take up arms against the colonial for their Independence. For years their freedom fighters struggled and sacrifice their lives fighting The Dutch. Unlike Indonesia, Malaya got its independent from the British through negotiation.

We were lucky.

It’s the communist that had wanted to destabilise Persekutuan Tanah Melayu sovereignty, terrorising the country by taking up arms and staging guerrilla’s war fares. The communist insurgences were real threat to the country’s stability. Communist ideology had influenced certain sector of the population. Likely they had supporters and sympathisers amongst us.

We have to accept the fact that we must be vigilant at all time.

I finally submitted to that notion, and accepted Father’s decision. I wrote a letter to cousin Ismail cancelling my trip. The letter was short and was written in English.

Cousin Ismail in his reply; chided me for still honouring the colonial legacy even on the eve of our Nation’s independent. Ismail wrote: ‘aku malu menerima warkah dalam bahasa penjajah dari anak bangsaku diambang negaraku menerima kemerdekaannya.......’ I was ashamed and felt like being hit by a truck.

Cousin Ismail was a member of the arm forces. After Form II he joined the elite force - The Royal Malay Regiment.

Since then, on every August countdown of our Merdeka Celebrations I vividly recollect my failed desire to be at the Stadium Merdeka for the Merdeka Proclamation by YTM Tunku Abdul Rahman Putra Al-Haj.

Whatsoever since 31st August 1957 I passionately behold my love for the country. ‘MERDEKA’ had since to be my ‘war cry’.

And again it was cousin Ismail’s critique that helps me to be true Malay and strengthened my patriotism to my beloved country - Malaysia.

DirgahyuIbuPertiwi

Note: Cousin Ismail retired from The Malay Regiment as a Warrant Officer. He passed away a couple of years ago after a long bout of Parkinson disease. Alfatihah.

THE WAY WE WERE

Saturday the 15 was a day to remember. At least for most of us RTM pensioners. It was PVRTM's meeting at Hotel Singgahsana. Some 50+- 'diehard' members converged at the venue for the occation. They were in as early as 8.00 am. Most had surpassed 70, still strong and healthy. Ex RTM staff are known to be functual. Maybe because of our past daily routines, governed by strick work shedules and datelines. A habit we mostly preserved and practice till this day. That maked us ticks. That maked RTM ticks. Since its inception for the last 6 decades RTM never fails its obligations.

The PVRTM general meeting was smooth and cordial a reflection of true democracy in practice.

Looking back my 30 years service with RTM (1966 – 1996) I acknowledge that we were a great team. We were a bunch of true professional of our times. Each of us an effective team member and proactive team player irrespective of age, experience and position we held. As public servant we never ever failed our obligations to the country and the nation. A word of command from our bosses upstairs, an order to be executed fully. We communicate effectively and freely as a team. We worked on shared opinions and divide our responsibilities effectively. We were trustworthy lot. (Bukan nak masuk bakul angkat sendiri). Truly we were. We relied on each other to give our most. At time we were ‘Jack of All Trade’ within the contact of our professional skills. We were Producers, Script Writers, and Reporters/Anchor Person, DJs ect..whatever each could contribute to enhance team output. That makes us effective and RTM strong. Self critique and our willingness to accept criticism both from our bosses and our peers as well the public strengthened our determinations for continued success. No financial or self gain. We were proud for a job well executed.

Those were the way we were.

Most of the 65 – 75 years old attendees with us today are the remnants of the ‘Last Mohicans’ of RTM yesteryears. They formed the majority of this year’s GM Quorum. It was an honour to have Tan Sri Zaleha Ismail (former UMNO Wanita Chief), Tan Sri Ahmad Merican, Dato’Abdullah Mohammad ex Director General of Broadcasting. Again there was a strong present of Radio Malaysia stalwart among others Dato’ Aziz Singah, Fatimah Kamaruddin, Norazah Aziz, Zahurin Zakaria, Habsah Hassan, Norela Samad, Latifah Sidek, Maizatul Akmam Yahya, Datin Wan Rohani Zain, Lee Keng Seng - also the regulars and some ex office bearers make our gatherings more significant. Though this time we missed Tan Sri Dol Ramli ex RTM DG a strong supporter of PVRTM, Tan Sri SM Salim, Dato’Jaafar Kamin and some senior members, least to say the successes of PVRTM are attributed to the all time commitment from all its members.

We bade each other farewell after lunch with a prayer to meet again

The Case of Nadrah 'gadis Belanda'

I vividly remember the couple's loving poses. She was a foreigner, a Dutch. He was local, a teacher in Singapore hailed from Kota Bahru, Kelantan.

Other than the portrait of Sukarno, the Indonesian Freedom fighter, the framed postcard size photograph of Mansor Adabi and his young bride Nadrah adorned the ‘tiang seri’ (main pillar of a traditional Malay House) of my house. More so on most Malay houses in the British Malaya and Singapora then. They were then the icons of most Malay Muslim. The duo was the 1950es craze, their potraits were most adorable pinups.
Mansor Adabi was Malay, and Nadrah was Dutch - ‘gadis Belanda’. Mother fondly refers her beauty as that of a ‘bidadari dari shurga’ (a fairy from paradise) and Mansor as the young ‘Malay Bangsawan’ (The Prince Charming ).

To most Malays they were the most celebrated couple of the year. They adored them, prayed for their well beings and ever willing to fight for them. Being hardcore Muslims they were directly committed to the cause of Islam. They were of the openion that Nadrah had willingly embraced Islam and should remain a Muslim. She should not be raised as her biological parent’s Roman Catholic religion. She should be free to lead her own lives with her foster parents and her husband and raised her family as a true Muslim.’

There was a legal tussle between Aminah Mohamad her foster mother and Adranus Petrus Hertogh her Dutch father, and was widely covered by the media. When the court finally assigned Nadrah to her biological parents and returned to Holland, the Malay Muslim ran amok. The onslaught was bloody. The clash was between the Muslim and the Christians on the streets of Singapore. The aftermath of that religious riot in Singapore also deepened amongst the Muslim in the Peninsular. The period was 1950es. Indonesia just got its Independence from the Dutch and Malaya was still in the midst of negotiation on its Independence from the British. As such the grudge for the colonial rules continuously deepened.

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Today Friday, July 10, 2009 The New Straits Times – filed the sad news in its PRIME NEWS page the death of Maria Hertogh 72 at her home in Huijberhen in South Holland of leukemia at the age of 72 the day before. Her 10 children and close relatives were at her side.
A statement released by her family said Hertogh made world news when her parents Adeline Hunter and Adranus Petrus Hertogh went to court to seek her return after World War 2.

Adrianus had been captured by the Japanese in Indonesia in 1942. Her mother then gave her for adoption to Aminah Mohamad from Terengganu without her father’s knowledge. She was renamed Nadrah Maarof and raised in Kemaman as a Muslim.
After his release at the end of the war, Andrianus began the search for his daughter. Aminah took her to Singapore to see her father and she was placed in a girls home ( a convent ). Aminah won an appeal to get her back and the then 13 year old was married to Mansor Adabi. But on December 12, 1950, the court ruled she should be returned to her biological father and she went back to Holland where she was brought up according to the religion of her father.

After the judge assigned her to her parents riot broke out between Muslims and Christians in Singapore, resulting in 18 deaths and 200 people injured,’ the statement said.

Malaysian’s Ambassador to the Netherlands Datuk Dr Fauziah Mohd Taib, who last met Hertogh at her birthday party on March 24, said she looked frail but happy.
“Her birthday party had a Malaysian-Indonesian theme. She talked a lot about her happy days in Malaysia and her heart was very much there.”

Till present day, the tragic case of Maria Hertogh @ Nadrah Maarof was a never ending stories among the Malays especially those in the East Coast. Books and journals were written about her early life, the court tussle between Aminah her foster parents and Adrianus her biological father. Television ducumentries, a (Malay) feature film was also produced based on her life story. It was a love story with a different twist.

The youngest of her 10 children, Silvija Wolkenfell 38 said there would be no burial as it was Hertogh’s last wish to donate her body for research. “All her life she did what other people wanted. This is her own choice, and it is important we respect that,” the 38 years old said in a telephone interview.

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There is an irony to the above statement by her youngest daughter on her last wish, to give her body for research.

She was brought up as a Muslim for almost a decade before returning to Holland and brought up according to her biological parent’s religion. Such a tragic situation for a young girl having lost both her parents because of war and found a new family love in the Malay and Muslim hardland. She blossomed as a Malay damsel with a foreign complexions. Loved by her foster family and proudly accepted by the community. She was later married to a Muslim. But the jevunile marriage won her biological father's custody appeal. The court ruled in favour of her biological parents. She returned to Holland and was brought up according to the religion of her father.

It was a teen love story with a twisted ending. Her life story chronicled that of a 'bondage or feudal serf' female.

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She was borned in Tjimahi, Jawa on 24th March 1937. She was the 3rd child. She was baptised Maria Bertha Hertogh by her Dutch-Eurasian parents. Maria's father was a A Dutch Army Sargent was taken in as a prisioner-of-war during during the Japenese invasion of Jawa during WWII. Andelina her mother gave Maria to the care of a family friend Aminah Mohamad on 15th November 1942 without the knowledge of her husband. The process was withness by Andelina's brother Soewaldi. Maria was raised as a Muslim and named Nadrah binti Maarof. She was verymuch loved by her foster parents and fondly niknamed her Puteh ( meaning 'white').

Aminah moved out of Jakarta to Bandung. She was enlisted as an interpreter for the Japenese Military Police. Fearing that Nadrah's Dutch background made her vulnerable during the Indonesian War of Independence Aminah and her foster daughter Nadrah fled to Terengganu, Malaya. Nadrah grew up in Aminah hometown Kemaman. Maria aka Nadrah study at Chukai Malay School, Kemaman and learnt reading the AlQur'an from an Ustazah.

Renuited after the war Maria's parents began seeking for their lost daughter. They lodged a request with the Dutch officials to locate their daughter.

Arthur Locke, the a British Administrative Officer, in Terengganu was first to alert authorities on Maria's whereabouts when he spotted her at a school competition in Kemaman. A custody battle ensued over Maria, which drew much public attention and fuelled religious sensitivities.

Initially the custody of Maria aka Nadrah was given to Aminah. Within 4 days of the ruling, on 1st August 1950 Nadrah was married off to Mansor Adabi 18 year old Kelantanese, a 2nd year Normal Class Teacher at Bukit Panjang Government Shool. The marriage of a juvenile 13 year old Maria was reised to court, at Andranus's appeal for custody of Maria. The 12th December 1950 court's rulling granted the custody of Maria to her biological parents. She screamed for mercy and begged the court to recind its rulling. She pleaded to be with her husband and remained in Malaya with her foster mother as a Muslim. But the court rullings also nullified her juvenile Muslim marriage. She was made a 'Murtad' and 'allowed' to be brought up according to her father's religion that of Roman Catholic. With the court's rulling her biological parents immediately wisked her to Amsterdam.

Maria married a Dutch cabinet maker John (Joep) Ganardus Wokerfeld on 20th April 1956 and bored 13 children, 3 of which did not servive infancy. However a 1975 TV production on Maria's story stirred up Marias's unhappy memories and led her to tragic actions. Meserable over her working at her husband's cafe-cum-bar the "T Pumpke" (Tan Sri A.Samad Said 'Lantai T.Pumpke'?) from early morning to midnight, she plotted to murder her husband through 2 friends, but the plan was found out and she was brought to court on 16 August 1976. However, after reviewing her tragic past, Maria was aquitted within 1 day of hearing.

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Aminah bt Mohammad, Maria's foster mother was from a respected Malay family in Kemaman, Terengganu. She married her first husband Abdul Rani (Abdul Gani) who had been the private secretary of The Sultan of Terengganu in 1918. Abdul Rani was a cousin of Datuk Panglima Bukit Gantang, who became The Menteri Besar of Perak after the war. She accompanied her husband to Tokyo where he tought Malay for almost 11 years. They mustered Japenese and adopted a Japenese girl whom they named Kamariah.

Maarof bin Haji Abdul a jeweler from Bandung was Aminah 2nd husband whom she married in the mids of 1930 after her 1st husband passed away.

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