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.

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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.