My Reminiscene Of Father We Fondly Called 'Bapak'.
I remember, Bapak passed away after a long illness at 9.30pm on the 6th September 1960 aged 52, and Emak 33 years later of old age. Since then I missed them most.
I remember Bapak as an icon and mentor. Born in 1908, he grew up between the 2 World Wars. War had deprived him of proper education. As a teenager he had to fend for his family living, helping his aged parents providing him and his siblings enough food and shelter.
Bapak had an elder brother, a travelling shaman. But his brother was of no help to the poor family. Little did Bapak told me about his elder brother, except that he had settled somewhere afar married to a nobleman’s daughter he had successfully nurse back to health from a long supernatural illness. Bapak had all the respect for his brother as an elder, and look high upon him. However, his brother died at a young age, leaving a wife and a son….a Meor. ( Who knows a 70+ years old a Perakian Meor out there could be my first cousin ).
I can consider myself closed to Bapak. As both of my brothers died during the hazards caused by The Japanese Occupations. I was sort of ‘the apple of his eyes’ ( 'Anak Bapak' the rightful term used in our Malay society) as the surviving boy of the family ( Zainal my younger brother was born 10 years later ).
But, little did I knew, he had tasked himself to make a man out of me. Learning all the trade of surviving the hardships of post war Malaya at the same time pursuing proper education. So as a lad I was made to go to school as well learning the trade of hard labour. The weekends were usually spent working at our Salai Kelapa (Copra Kiln), or helping him cutting down ‘MataBuaya’ tree of the mangrove species at the distant banks of Bernam River, or his sampan 'deckhand' as an inshore fisherman. Each was a tedious job not meant for a 15 years old. Choosing and cutting down a tall ‘MataBuaya’ tree in the thick and muddy mangrove swamp was no joke. Each tree should be about 20 meters tall. One had to fell them using axe toward the riverbank for an easy excess to the river on a high tide. Bapak could’t do that alone. He was not healthy either. He was a frail man, look older than his age. More so he was suffering from a certain terminal illness.
For all that tedious jobs he depended so much in me the unexperienced with a lot of energy to burnt. Diligently he would guide me on using the axe, the technique of cutting the hard wood, chopping on the area the tree should fall. For the inexperience it took almost an hour to fell down a hard MataBuaya tree. But it was a worthy experience. Choosing and felling the second MataBuaya was yet another challenge and a complicated task. We would cut down 2 MataBuaya for a day’s work. The fallen trees to be trimmed of their branches, and push down towards the river banks using slippers of Nipah Palm found abundance by the river banks. Pushing 10 to 13 meters length of a hard MataBuaya log through the muddy bank of thick under growths was no easy task either. We have to wait for the high tide to ease the burden.
Bringing home 2 MataBuaya log for a day’s outing was more than enough for a feeble old man and his inexperience son could offer. Those logs were meant as pillars for building a new annex of his elder sister a single parent's home. We had to have a few more trips to the mangrove swamps before the annex could be built. Bapak as the only man in the family, was duty-bound to look after the welfare of his siblings. And me as the eldest boy in the family was to be trained as a responsible Waris Ahli (next of kin) to my siblings. Ardently Bapak had fulfilled his responsibilities as a father and a Waris Ahli ( next of kin ) of his siblings.
During those days, going to school was not a common things for young lads of my village. The nearest Malay School was miles away. One had to brave the wet morning through a narrow, muddy and isolated kampong lanes for the 3 miles trek. One had to leave home after dawn to reach school in time, a journey too scary to undertake, considering my tender age and the only lad from my neighborhood attending primary School then. Bapak was adamant for his son to have a proper education. He would do anything for me to be in school, though at most time I joined my two cousins from another neighborhood playing truant.
After 3 years in the Malay School I was admitted for English Education firstly at GES and later at ACS in town. Bapak was highly trilled on the news I passed my SC/FMC (Cambridge School Certificate & Federation Of Malaya Certificate of Education) Examination in 1959. He passed away the following year at 52 years of age.
If Bapak is still alive today, he would be 101 this year. For sure, there would be no Father’s Day celebration for him from me either. It was not part of our family tradition. Further more he would not understand why we should have the celebration in the first place. It is difficult to justify to him on why we need to celebrate Father's day, for we are totally living in 2 different world altogether.
Me ( his onetime ‘apple of his eye’) is now living in the fast lane, far away from our beloved Bernam River we used to fish to gather. Far away from the mangrove swamps where he tough his son to swing the axe and cut down some MataBuaya trees, or helping him building our RumahKotai at Parit 26 Baruh, that took 5 years to complete. He would not understand why I ownd a couple of cars for me and my wife’s daily chores, he won’t understand why everyone in my family, including some of his cicit (great grandchildren) having a hand phone each, or wearing braces to put right their ( God given ) jongang (Jonah) dentures. He won’t understand why we had television set each in the kitchen, in the study, in the bedroom as well as in the living room. Neither he would understand why we need to go for annual holidays abroad or an occasional Umrah in Saudi Arabia, for during all his entire life time he could not afford even to perform his obligatory pilgrimage to Mecca & Medinah, though he very much like to.
Now thinking of all the sacrifices Bapak had for me during those short years of his life, the more I missed him. Not a day passed by my remembrance of Bapak and Emak fading off memory. I am proud to fulfill all his dreams for me, my siblings, children and grand children. Though he is not around to share our glories, his fighting spirits and his life vision inspires and lives on all his decendents.
Alfatihah untuk Bapak dan Emak.
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