A Malay Malady - Episode 2

Caution:  There is a point to this long pictorial posting which you will discover towards the end.

1. What could be more  Malay than a rumah kampung?  This is a photograph from 1966.

Our  kampung house - 691 Pasir Panjang Road, Singapore

==========================================================================================


2. What could be more  meticulous than this drawing?

Carving on a tiang seri of a kampung house.

============================================================================================


3. What could be more  joyous than remembering :

1.  a walk in the kampung ......

The old lady is how Iain Buchanan remembers his mother-in-law, AsH's mother

......  and this image was prompted by this 1948 (?) photo of her brother Mustapha taking a walk with Macik Ayik at Kampung Chantek, Dunearn Road.

2.  Here is a tikar  in the making, from Fatimah's Kampung .

AsH had such fond memories of the tikar on the floor - whch was much more flexible and portable than a sofa bed.  " It was as if all those years of use, all the sitting upon and the rolling up and the shaking out, had moulded it perfectly to Atok's comfort."

This mat has travelled from Singapore to Brunei (1978), then to Leicester (1984) and finally to Kuala Lumpur (2007).  I bought it in Port Dickson in 1970.

3.  AsH was a tomboy - with breaks in between  - like putting on the school uniform, or for Hari Raya or family outings.  Nevertheless she treasured the plywood doll house that Abah made for his two little girls.  The spouse drew this doll house for Fatimah, which looked more posh and traditional.

============================================================================================


4. What could be more  unforgettable than Busu's wedding in the small town where I was born. Like  many Malays from the kampungs and small towns of Malaya in the 1950s, the opportunity for employment was not in the shops or industries in Kuala Lumpur or Penang or Ipoh or Seremban or Johor Baru.   Their best chance was to enrol in the Police or British Armed Forces. Here, they did not merely "square bash" on the Parade Square.  They learned a trade, depending on which unit they joined.  They acquired discipline and initiative and enterprise.  When I was teaching at Sekolah Menengah Yusof Ishak from the late 1960s, I could not help but notice how the children of these soldiers were far more hardworking and enthusiastic about learning..  Their turnout was always clean and smart, their homework was always submitted on time and they gave us teachers far less disciplinary problems.

Busu Kamaruddin bin Moin was one of these enterprising Malays from Selangor.  He enrolled in the RAF (Singapore) and with a steady and secure income he was able to give some financial help to his much-loved kakak, our Macik Munah and her family.  Her greatest joy was to see her  adik bongsu married.  Between them there was not much money to be had for Busu's big day.  Her cousins (all male, including my Abah) offered and gave some assistance but they were determined to make it on their own.  It was a simple and unforgettable wedding.  Busu was a quiet and sweet uncle.  Ma'Busu was a lively and loving aunt.  This photograph says it all for us and the extended family.

3 - Macik Munah

To commemorate this special event the spouse recreated the above photograph - by drawing it in  hundreds of thousands (perhaps around a million) black dots (to imitate pixels).  He was determined to be absolutely computer-free and this was the result.

"Atok used to joke about the plastic tablecloth and the tent for the wedding feast that leaked."

============================================================================================


5. What could be more  yummy than the finger-licking taste of durian from the kampung?

Abah,  a Sanitary Inspector by profession was a civilian in the RAMC.

Abah's colleagues and students would come back from home trips to the kampung and we would be feted with our favourite durian, rambutan, mangosteen, ikan sepat from the sawah, tempoyak, kerdas and petai.  He would tell us stories about durian-hunting in the kampung and that inspired this drawing .....

Durian Watch

==========================================================================================


6. What could be  a greater tribute to Allah's creation than to imitate the beauty and glory of the forest in these images?

============================================================================================

7. What could be more  devastating than to see this splendour  destroyed by man and his greed?

============================================================================================

8. What could be more  graphic than this geographer's portrayal of the 'development' of his wife's tanah air through an LRT window?

The First Half - beginning with the forest ....

........ and the Second Half ending with the concrete jungle.

=========================================================================================

9. What could be more  loving than one man's love for his Malay wife and her tanah air to set out on an 8-year labour of love to write an illustrated story of Fatimah's Kampung ?

Note the vignette of the petai, the author's favourite ulam.

 

"Now, looking back, it is good to know that the two of us could eventually come together, and- by creating Fatimah and her Kampung - could say something we both needed to say."

For my 70th birthday the spouse drew a series of pictures for his little tropical flower - my favourite, the bunga tahi ayam.   This one is the best.

==========================================================================================

Today's posting by AsH is quite unusual.  Made up mainly of a series of  illustrations from her spouse's book (published in 2008) AND smothered with 'copyright Iain Buchanan' on each one, readers may be forgiven if they think proprietorial AsH is touting her husband's book.  Well, if I am publicising and hawking Fatimah's Kampung I should have done that years ago!

I merely desire to explain the learning, the research, the skills, the patience, commitment and especially the love that went into Fatimah's Kampung by Iain Buchanan - Ash's soulmate!

In a quaint and depressing way, this posting is to illustrate another piece of Malay Malady.  I am angry, I am ashamed, and I am sad when I have to face the extent to which a member of my bangsa has such cheek to pilfer someone else's toil and labour to earn a living and to profit from such an act of cheating.

My good friend and neighbour, Zarina puts it so neatly, " Kak, to our Malays, only arak and babi are haram!"

10. What could be more   despicable than this?

The above was plagiarised and purloined and corrupted into this

 No wonder Information Technology is such a popular subject in Malaysia!

By the way, this business was given a leg-up in Utusan Malaysia February 2014.

And now a song of apology and comfort from a Malay wife to her  Scottish-English husband.

Two of Us - On Our Way Home.

Our good friend Jack has been over on most recent Saturday evenings to watch a very interesting TV programme on "Wild China".  We would share a small supper and after the programme, Jack and spouse would  depart to the latter's study where the two of them would go surfing YouTube for Opera songs,  not the fluffy modern singers like  Katherine Jenkins and Il Divo but the ones from the 30s, 40s and 50s like Amelita Galli-Curci and  a younger Maria Callas.     In the process they discovered a fabulous young tenor from the US called Lawrence Brownlee - Jack, an expert on classical singing, reckons he's the best singer around at the moment.....better than Luciano Pavarotti.

At about 11 pm we would walk Jack back to his house which is just 5-10 minutes away.  Before the three of us became old and decrepit it would have taken us just short of 5 minutes !!

Last Saturday, on our way home from Jack's, we bumped into our former neighbour and friend Doug.  He was walking home alone from Barry's house (about 20 minutes distance from his own house).   The time was nearly a quarter to midnight!   He was just as shocked as we were to meet up so late.  We told him of our trip back to KL and there was a hint of disappointment in his voice when he expressed his regret that we had shared only one get-together since we got back to Leicester.  You see, we had arranged for Doug to pop over for dinner five weeks ago.  But we, especially AsH, had a nasty infection for three weeks and everything had to be put on the back burner including our planned  return at the end of  January.

We got back home, we pondered and we agreed that despite our imminent journey we must have Doug over for a meal.  And we did just that two days ago.  And Doug was so pleased to share the meal and the time.  And we walked him home as well !

Douglas Holly and we went back a long way, since the mid 1980s.  He was then a lecturer at the University of Leicester School of Education.  I had applied to do my Masters at the School of Ed in 1983 when I was about to end my teaching contract in Brunei.  I waited and waited in vain for a reply from them.  Finally I had to call upon my former Geography Tutor who was teaching in Leicester University to make an inquiry.  He got in touch with his 'mature student' Frank Moule who knew a lecturer from the School of Education.  That lecturer was Doug Holly.

Now one could describe  Doug as an old-fashioned liberal - his political stand  would be very much to the left of centre.  He went to see the lecturer-in-charge of Admissions to find out what had happened to my application.  It seemed that this lecturer Dr RK  had chucked my application to the bottom of the pile, simply because it had come from Brunei!  Doug then called upon Morag Carsch who was in charge of one of the courses I was applying for.  They both looked through my 'suitability' and they both advised Dr RK that I should be given a 'yes' reply soon - before I  'relocated' to another University.  I did Doug and Morag proud because I became one out of two students to gain a Distinction in the M.Ed course.  And I did enjoy bumping into Dr. RK whenever  I could - just to gloat.

After the spouse and I got married we visited Doug at his little terrace house at Oxford Avenue.  We liked the cosiness of the Avenue  (and Doug!).   So sometime during late 1986 we bought No 10 Oxford Avenue and we moved in.    I could not think of a better and happier place to live in - our neighbours and the neighbourhood  were just perfect.  Today, sadly, as with most things, it has all changed - for the worse.

We were neighbours for 19 years.  We got on because on many political and social issues we had a lot in common.  However at the height of the protest over Salman Rushdie's  "Satanic Verses" in 1989, we discovered a chink in our relationship.  We could hear on that summer's day in 1989 loud protests against "Satanic Verses" and Salman Rushdie coming over from nearby Victoria Park.  In summer, most of us kept our front doors open.  From Doug's door we heard him shouting angrily against the protests from the Park.  His one sentence  "After all we've done for them!" shocked us.  "Them" referred to the Muslims!  And this came from someone who saw himself as a broad-minded liberal and a vocal supporter of multi-culturalism.

This made me realise that the white man's liberalism, anti-racism  and broadmindedness are really skin-deep. When it comes to Islam and Muslims, that entrenched hostility and insecurity which fills their religion, literature, history and  culture floats up to the surface - even for someone like Doug who sees himself as an atheist.

We decided we had to square this circle with Doug.  We went over to his house and had a civilized discussion about freedom of expression, about the pathological phobia of the West against Islam and Muslims and what we thought of Salman Rushdie the Wog, the darling of British culture and of the literati. It did not break our friendship - we were sensible, thinking adults and were willing to listen to each other.

That incident - and what I saw and heard in later years - pushed me to read and learn even more, especially about Christianity and Western history and culture.

Just after we got married, my father-in-law Professor  K.M. Buchanan posted me a little pamphlet ( from Wales where he was staying)  about what the West owed to the Arabs - in the field of mathematics,  philosophy, architecture, medicine etc. etc.   It was an eye-opener for me.  It only told me how ignorant I had been about the world , about my Muslim world.  I began my own journey into this world and the western Christian world starting with books by Edward Said , Noam Chomsky - and  V.G. Kiernan's "European Empires from Conquest to Collapse (1815-1960)."  For these discoveries I have to thank my father-in-law Keith and his son.

After that little fracas with Doug I articulated my frustration in a long essay about the context of the  "Satanic Verses" issue which I still store in my files.  I wrote a letter of protest to The Independent which was of course heavily edited.

From then until today,  my inquiry and my learning have not ended  The maverick and rebel in me became even more consolidated and tenacious.

As for Doug and us, our friendship grew stronger with the years.  We have a lot of respect for him.  He remains committed to CND, Friends of the Earth and the local Community Committee.  He has lived alone for as long as we've known him.  He has his family who keep in touch with him especially for Birthdays and Christmas but he leaves them very much to themselves and makes sure that he doesn't become a burden to them.  He is a keen solo traveller, has been round the world sans the frills and luxury, goes to the gym and takes a long walk in the English countryside  ( usually ending at the local Pub) every week - and he loves my cooking!

And Doug is 84 years old.

This has turned out to be a long posting when all I wanted to write was about our trip back to KL - arriving InsyaAllah on Friday 21 February - just a day short of my 70th birthday.

"You and I have memories - longer than the road that stretches out ahead."

 Anak si Hamid and Son of Buchanan have travelled a long way - physically and metaphorically - together,  and with people like Doug Holly and Jack Marlowe as inspiration we hope to do a lot more, InsyaAllah.

WOMAN

Been feeling poorly, under-the weather, out-of sorts or just plain knackered!!

My usual remedy is to go through my magpie collection of old books and this made me smile.

But first, listen to this  ...........




You see, I have this Duckworth's Encyclopaedia from 1891.

 Amongst other hilarious entries, I discovered this.

The Wife's Duty

Here are some of the main points.

1.Be careful in your purchases.  Let your husband know what you buy and that you have wisely expended your income. ( I don't, especially after a spending spree at Charity shops like "Animal Rescue"in Leicester.  And if he notices them I will shrug my shoulders and say it's coming from my state pension, lah, which is about 22 GBP a week!)

2.  Let no wife devote a large portion of her time to society work which shall keep her away from home daytimes and evenings, without the full concurrence of her husband. ( The spouse reciprocates this rule except when he disappears into a second hand bookshop.)

3.  Beware of entrusting the confidence of your household to outside parties.  The moment you discuss the faults of your husband with another, that moment an element of discord has been admitted which will one day   rend your family circle.  ( Isn't that called backbiting which no one, whatever the relationship, should do to another.  As for me I call the spouse a MOG or Miserable ole git, a SOG or Silly ole git  and he regards me as his 'Tart' .  And we say that to all our friends and relatives!!)

4.  Beware of bickering about little things.  .......  he is in the habit of giving commands  .... and the same dictatorial spirit may possess him in the domestic circle.  ( I have to remind the spouse that  all items in the kitchen should be properly kept, there's a place for everything and everything has its place. )

5. Be always very careful of your conduct and language.  A husband is largely restrained by the chastity, purity and refinement of his wife.  ( For a number of months last year the spouse was unable to do the driving.  Three times a week I had to drive to Tung Shin Hospital at Pudu.  Such is the level of driving in Kuala Lumpur that you cannot keep your sanity without screaming expletives in the car.  All the spouse could do was to roll his eyes upwards in despair and once asked,  "Where did you learn those words?".  I gave a short crisp answer,  "From my workmates in Leicester!!"

6.  Whatever may have been the cares of the day, greet your husband with a smile when he returns.  Make your personal appearance just as beautiful as possible.  ( I will when he does.)

7.  Be careful that you do not estimate your husband solely by his ability to make display.........  The superior qualities of mind and heart alone will bring permanent happiness.  ( When either of us say  "I love you" to the other - the response is always the same - "What for?" )

8.  A man does not alone require that his wife be a good housekeeper.  She must be more; in conversational talent and accomplishment she must be a companion.  ( I'm not a good housekeeper but I always try to have the last word  and I'm also an accomplished listener.)






AND FINALLY - a tip from 1891 for all those who do not know how to make money -  especially those who live on the urban fringes and in the rural areas.  It is still applicable today and it must work - when you see the well-heeled and influential scoundrels surrounding us today.

Hallelujah!!

What a Flop

                                                  Tanah  Tumpah  Darah  Ku

For the past week or so since getting back to Kuala Lumpur, life's been swinging between a flop and a  fever.

Election fever in Malaysia did not really affect where we live.  The streets looked very lively and colourful with blue, white and green flags, banners and buntings.   A couple of them promised cheap petrol and cheap cars - mainly in the poorer neighbourhoods.  The mugshots of the candidates were the usual run of the mill but I must say the poster boys of a certain political party looked like images drawn up by Saatchi and Saatchi of London.  In open necked shirts  (looking like Tony Blair), with shoulders back and arms folded  in a Stamford Raffles stance, they give such an air of authority and style that you feel tempted to vote for them because of their impressive image and to disregard  the ideas.  But that's politics for you.  Lebih indah rupa dari kata!

A couple of days ago we were driving through the leafy suburbs of Wangsa Maju when a car with DAP flags attached to the sides passed us by and what we read on the posters at the rear windows made us gasp in disbelief!  I had no chance to take a photograph but we remember very distinctly what they claimed.  It was so heinously devious and cynical it couldn't come unstuck from the memory!

One poster read  FREEDOM FOR PALESTINE, SYRIA, and MALAYSIA.

The other 'pleaded'   SAVE  GAZA AND PERAK.

Where were these  "Malaysian Freedom Fighters" when the Zionists were pulverising the Gazans and Palestinians?  What campaign and demonstrations did the DAP organise to support these beleagured people?

As Malaysians, we have to apologise most abjectly to the Syrians, Gazans and Palestinians for the cheek of some of our citizens for making use of their sufferings  and oppression to serve the political ends of some of our well-fed, well-heeled smug people in Malaysia and Perak!

I guess I was so shocked by those posters that I didn't notice this naughty-wotty Aedes mosquito
attacking me and leaving me flopping about with breakbone (dengue) fever.  Or could that poster-wielding car have been nasty Mr Aedes in disguise?  Especially in Malaysia, many politicians are such great actors that they could fill up the rolls of Oscar nominee awards.  There are wolves in sheep's clothing, wolves in wolves clothing, sheep in wolves clothing,  foxes in clerics'garments, foxes dressed as hens scouting about the henhouse, sharks in dolphins' suits, Greeks bearing gifts, smiling crocodiles in city suits and Malay baju, dumb asses who would sell themselves for a carrot, carpet baggers on the ready for a quick buck and loads of Friends of Red Riding Hood  (FoRRH)  using her to get a good bite at her dear old grandma.

Indeed the dengue's breaking my bones, but I hope my mind's still intact.



For (some of)  my fellow Malays :

I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping  .....

However, ....... 

.....  I don't know how someone controlled you
       They bought and sold you.

.....  I don't know how you were diverted
       You were perverted too.
       I don't know how you were inverted
       No one alerted you.

A SIGHTING

While clearing out my bookshelves for books to pack in the freight,  I came across this gem.

This book, published in 1971, had travelled with me since I bought it in 1972, settling wherever I put up my feet.

After graduating from Singapore University in 1967 I had a great sense of dissatisfaction.  I felt there was still so much more to learn and to explore.  I think that Mr Roy Haas - my Political Science lecturer - recognised that hankering in me.  A few months after my graduation, he contacted me and suggested I further my studies at Cornell University - his Alma Mater.  I informed him about my financial constraints but he did not think that would be too much of a problem - he could arrange it, he implied.  Fired with the optimism of youth I thought I could find a way to sort out my commitments to firstly my family, and secondly my Bond with the Singapore Ministry of Education.

I sat for a while on the offer.  Then I got a phone call from the Straits Times's Personnel Officer  asking me to see them.  I had already started working out my Bond - teaching at Sekolah Menengah Yusof Ishak - and I was a bit perplexed but curious.  I went one afternoon to the Straits Times Office at Kim Seng
Road.   It was not an interview.   I could not see any other 'candidates'.   Instead, after brief introductions, I was taken for a tour of the premises, the editorial rooms, the printing rooms and so on.  I must confess I have blurred memories of that episode because I was given no idea what it was all about.  I found myself later in the office of the Financial Director where he briefed me on the running of the Straits Times.  I  also had a brief chat with a Senior Executive - a Mr Simmons,  if my memory served me well.   Eventually I was told what I was there for.  They wanted to take me in as a graduate recruit - and I would spend a few months learning the ropes in the Singapore office before they transferred me to  Kuala Lumpur.

I was just 23, fresh out of University, teaching Geography, History, and Mathematics in Malay  (my trials and tribulation of that period of my career need another story) and even Karangan, for someone who had only  P7 for the Cambridge School Certificate Malay Language!   All these offerings on my plate were creating a whirlwind in a head so young and inexperienced.

With my heart and head in my stomach I went to the Ministry of Education to inquire if there was any way I could  postpone working out my Bond ( for the offer at Cornell ) or negotiate a way to pay off my Bond ( this was pie in the sky for neither myself or the family had that kind of money to play with)  for the job offer at the Straits Times.  On both counts I was given a flat "No".   End of story.   End of my dreams of a more challenging career and future.  I did feel sore because I found out later that someone else who was bonded in exactly the same situation as myself was given 'leave' to pursue his Masters.

Still undeterred, I made an appointment with Syed Hussein Alatas, Professor of Malay Studies at Singapore University, to apply to do my Masters  part- time.  I submitted a Research Proposal on "Education and Malays in Singapore".   It was accepted but I'm ashamed to say I made no headway in that endeavour.   It was an undertaking that proved too much for me.

 Teaching took up more than the 7 to 1 schedule.  I was doing my teacher training part-time.  In school I was on the School Magazine editorial board.  I was running the National Cadet Corp with only one other teacher as my "Second-in Command".  I was also preparing my pupils for the SPM  (the School Leaving Examination for the Malay Stream)  which left me a bundle of nerves during the Examination and during the Results.  Also, I was spending good times with my good friends like Julehar and Sim Loo Lee.  With Julie and Loo Lee, we went on driving holidays to Malacca, Port Dickson,  Penang and Cameron Highlands.  I did all the driving and I really enjoyed that.  Loo Lee and I were teaching in the same school and we would dart off several times a week to go swimming, and play squash and tennis.

Loo Lee's grandmother was a Peranakan.  Whenever we popped into Loo Lee's house in between swimming and squash the dear old lady would shake her head and say,  "Lu dua orang suka keluar main main, swimming lah, tennis lah. Tengok!  Kulit dah tak chantek - hitam legam.  Siapa mahu kawin dengan lu dua?"   We would laugh and tease her,  "Tak apa Amah.  Kita boleh kahwin orang tua - old man's darling, young man's slave."  She would roll her eyes and put up her hands in despair.  Dear Amah, bless her wherever she is now.

But that's enough reminiscing.  My copy of Syed Hussein Alatas's book  is full of underlinings and asterisks because I found his analysis and scholarship so illuminating.  I read it from cover to cover.  I have just finished reading it again and I want to share this extract to accompany my posting on
http://anaksihamid.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/stamford-bob-and-dave.html

These extracts from "Thomas Stamford Raffles 1781-1826 Schemer or Reformer?" by Syed Hussein Alatas,  Angus Robertson, Sydney, 1971  were sourced from "S. Raffles, Memoir ....., Vol. 1, letter to Hugh Inglis, February 13, 1814.

On the Malays, this was what Raffles had to say.

The Malay, living in a country where nature grants (almost without labour) all he wants, is so indolent, that when he has rice, nothing will induce him to work.  Accustomed to wear arms from his infancy, to rely on his own prowess for safety, and to dread that of his associates, he is the most correctly polite of all savages, and not subject to those starts of passion so common to more civilized nations.  But with all his forbearance, he is feelingly alive to insult; submits with a bad grace to the forms to which, in a civilized life, he finds himself obliged to conform; and when these are neither numerous or enforced with supercilious contumely, or the delays of office, he flies to the woods, where, with a little rice boiled in a bamboo, eaten with sprouts of the surrounding trees as a leaf, he feels he is free.  ( Page 28)

On the Chinese :

Wherever they have formed extensive settlements in Java, accordingly, the native Javanese have no alternative but that of abandoning the district, or becoming slaves of the soil;  besides, the monopolizing spirit of the Chinese frequently exercises a very pernicious control over the necessaries of life, and the produce of the soil, even in the vicinity of Batavia.   If we consider the suppleness and insinuating address of the Chinese, how apt they are on all occasions to curry favour, how ready they are to proffer assistance when there is no danger, and when they perceive that it falls in with their own interest, we may depend upon their utmost efforts being used to ingratiate  themselves with the English.  It is, therefore, of the greatest importance to be early on our guard against this pernicious and increasing influence, which preys on the very vitals of the country, draining and exhausting it for the benefit of China.  In all the Malay states, the Chinese have made every effort to get into their hands the farming of the port duties, and this has generally proved the ruin of the trade.  In addition to these circumstances, it should be recollected that the Chinese, from their peculiar language and manners, form a kind of separate society in every place where they settle, which gives them great advantage over every competitor in arranging monopolies of trade.  It also gives them an opportunity of aspiring after political ascendancy, which they have often acquired in the inferior Malay states.  This ascendancy of the Chinese, whether of a commercial or political nature, should be cautiously guarded against and restrained; and this perhaps cannot be better done than by bringing forward the native population of Malays and Javanese, and encouraging them in useful and industrious habits.  (Page 29)

On the Arabs:

The Chinese must, at all events, be admitted to be industrious; but the Arabs are mere drones, useless and idle consumers of the produce of the ground, affecting the descendants of the Prophet, and the most eminent of his followers: when in reality they are commonly nothing more than manumitted  slaves: they worm themselves into the favours of the Malay chiefs, and often procure the highest offices in the Malay states.  They hold like robbers the offices they obtain as sycophants, and cover all with the sanctimonious veil or religious hypocrisy.  Under the pretext of instructing the Malays in the principles of Mahomedan religion, they inculcate the most intolerant  bigotry, and render them incapable of receiving any species of useful knowledge. (Page 30).

The professor commented:

Raffles' intense dislike for Arabs extended to the Islamic religion which he called the "robber-religion". To diminish the influence of Islam, Raffles suggested the propagation of Christianity.  He was perturbed by the tenacious hold of Islam on the Muslims and he saw a political danger to British power in the defiant attitude of Islam.  (Page 30)

Though Syed Hussein's book was written  42 years ago it is still as relevant today as it was on the day it was written.  I so regret that my undisciplined youth caused me to lose an opportunity to learn from this scholar.

Knowledge is of two kinds.  We know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it.  (Samuel Johnson, 1709-1784)




APPENDIX:

Syed Hussein's book is not just about "Raffles' Views on the Different Communities in this Area" as found in the third of five chapters.  This is about the arch-imperialist Stamford Raffles, who has been given an easy ride in many history books.  It's  "An account of his (Raffles) political philosophy and its relation to the Massacre of Palembang, the Banjarmasin Affair, and some of his views and legislations, during his colonial career in Java, Sumatra, and Singapore."

It has also been described as "An entirely new study of one of the most important historical figures of Singapore's colonial past, based on original research and translations from contemporary Malay documents."

ACJC - The Finale

In this last episode of my shortest teaching stint, I want to begin with what is perhaps my biggest regret - before I pick up the thread of my tale of "culture shock" at ACJC.

My sojourn at ACJC lasted for the duration of my one month's notice of resignation to the Singapore Ministry of Education ( MOE ).

On my last day, 2 February 1978, I was presented with a  'Thank You' card, signed by about a dozen students who wanted to let me know that they appreciated my understanding and support for their situation as outsiders at ACJC.  They were all non-ACSians - 'imports from other schools'.  Alas I have lost or misplaced that precious card.  I have searched for it, high and low, in Leicester and Kuala Lumpur but to no avail.

However there was just one ACSian - a sweet, timid Chinese lass who assured me that she would see me before I left.  A week before, she plucked up the courage to confide in me about how she had been regularly abused and raped by her businessman stepfather since she was 13.  She could not talk to any one, not even her mother,  and at 17 she wanted to expose and perhaps cauterize the pain.

I listened to nearly 2 hours of tears and pain and anger from this gentle, fragile child as she relived all over again her years of agony and trauma.  It was heartbreaking and all the more so because I could not do more to help - I had just about a week to be at hand for her and I was leaving Singapore almost immediately.  I had no choice but to convey the case to the Senior Teacher or Class Tutor, just which one I could not remember.  It seemed a breach of trust on  my part, but she needed urgent professional help.  I looked for her just before I left but she had been recorded as absent for a couple of days.

As a retired teacher, I have had ( and still have ) misgivings and regrets about some of my students whose lives I have touched.  My inability to minister to this tortured child, however,  was my biggest frustration and failing.

Now back to my finale.  In a previous posting I had mentioned  my experience of the the Lord's Prayer every morning during the flag-raising ceremony.  See  http://anaksihamid.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/x-factor.html  

Other than the 'secular' flag-raising ceremony, it was normal for every school to conduct a weekly Assembly to inform and to publicise various activities in the school's calendar.  In ACJC this took place on Monday mornings and I duly attended.  I cannot remember the precise order of events.  But I recall how all members of Staff stood in a row on the stage behind the Principal.

Then each of us was given a book, and so were all the students in the Hall.  I glanced at it and noted it was a book of Hymns and Prayers.  Such a thing had never happened in all of my previous schools.  I held my breath and waited.  Then the Principal or the College's Chaplain gave a little religious homily.  We were then instructed to turn the page to a particular Hymn.  The Hall was filled with the sound of a Christian choir singing Christian Hymns.  This was a Church Service, there can be no other explanation!!  Those of us who were not pedigree ACSians and non-Christians were taken aback.  I felt we had been ambushed.  Again, no one from the MOE had informed the teachers and new students about this extra duty in this top-drawer Junior College.

I closed the Hymn book and simply stood still.  I glanced at my colleagues left and right.  They were all singing away, including the Malay language teacher who I reckoned  was employed by the College's Board of Governors.  There was Amin, another teacher seconded to the College like me.  We looked at each other.  He was also doing what I was doing.

Well, I attended Assembly the following week just in case it took on a different tone.  It was exactly the same as the previous week.  I did what I had done then and looked straight ahead across the rows of students standing and singing in that vast Hall.  Suddenly, my eyes caught the eyes of an Indian sixth-form student - located almost in the middle of that 'Choir' -  singing and holding the open Hymn book in his hands.  Our eyes locked, almost transfixed in an odd empathy of our plight.  A communion, you might say in Christian parlance.  It was quite 'electric'. as people would describe it in today's electronic language.

The student stopped singing, closed his Hymn book, and like me, he just stood still in attentive respect.

It was uncanny, it was like magic!!  I can feel goosepimples on my arms whenever I recall that spellbinding moment.  Very, very unforgettable.

And so I saw no point in attending Assembly/Services at all.  I decided to stay in the Teachers' Room to do my marking.  I was later called up by the Principal about the date of my departure and also to enquire about my lack of 'participation'  during  Assembly.  He expressed concern about how this would affect discipline in the College.  I simply told him that non-Christian students should not be subjected to Christian rituals especially as most of the new students were from government secular schools.  I further added  that such dispensation should include members of Staff too.  He was glad to see the back of me and the feelings were mutual.

EPILOGUE
The moral is clear and this I emphasise with another little story.

I wore a baju kurung on my first day at ACJC, and for most days I would be garbed in this or the baju kebaya.  In the Common Room, a sweet Chinese lady teacher welcomed me and said,  " You must be our new Malay language teacher."
I told her I wasn't.  I was the new Geography and General Paper teacher.
She looked shocked and uttered, "You're a graduate?"
"From Singapore University, 1967,"  I replied.
She then made a sweet, quick retreat.

It's like that in Singapore.  If, as a Malay, your presence is above the usual  level of gardener, driver, peon, ( or Malay language teacher in the case of ACJC and other secondary schools) it can cause a bit of consternation.  Maybe things have changed now but old habits die hard.  How can Malays be at par with those people who  are inheritors of '3,000 years of culture' ?  (That cultural description of the Chinese was made by Mr LKY )

My late brother Akim was an accounts clerk at NOL ( Neptune Orient Lines) in the 1970s.  He was not only the sole Malay in the Accounts Department but he was also good at his work.

"Hey Akim, you must have Chinese blood in you aah?"  said one of his colleagues who was attempting to pour scorn on Akim's ability to solve an accounting problem that he himself could not.

My sharp-tongued brother retorted,  "You are 100% Chinese, how come you cannot do what I can?"

Just another AnaksiHamid!  We go for the jugular.  We don't take prisoners.

Another Tale or Two.

.........  and to continue where I left off.  I was writing about the nail in the coffin that the Nanyang cabal at Jurong Secondary School had prepared for Miss Hamid.

But first, here are a couple of images from that inglorious era.  JSS had grand plans such as  running seminars during the school holidays to rejuvenate and inspire laid-back and browned-off  members of staff to be better teachers, to turn the school into the A-Team of Education.  That of course assumed that the teachers did not "know better" before this.  At thirty-two, I "knew better" : you can't teach an old dog new tricks.



Oh Yeah?  Tell us something new!

Blah! Blah! Blur! Blah! Blur! Blur .....zzzzzz

Of course every seminar must have a theme.


Towards Change for Betterment

 Remember, this was 1976 - so little old JSS was quite a pioneer in catchy slogans and self-advertisement.  But that "Towards Change for Betterment" was not my idea.   In response to the wishes and objectives of the gaffers the words were chosen by Mr J,  another  English medium teacher who was in JSS way before I turned up.   He was 'appointed' the general factotum for any task requiring the English language - doing tedious and time-consuming tasks that nobody else in the English stream wanted to do - like writing the minutes of every Staff Meeting.   Poor Mr J!  He 'co-operated' with the system because he was given the hope by those in power in JSS that they could help to expedite his application for Singapore citizenship.  Mr J. was from Johor.

By late 1976 and early 1977 I was feeling the strain of being a minority Malay in a minority English medium in an Integrated Chinese-English School  like JSS.  I was getting weary, having constantly to look out for my kids in the English stream, having to negotiate a way out of every nook and cranny of overt and covert discrimination.  This was like a re-run of my years in Yusof Ishak Secondary  School  (1967-1974)  when I played out the role of a 'bouncer' for the Malay medium kids vis-a-vis the English medium.

Sometime in early 1977 I responded to this advertisement  for teachers in Brunei.

I was called for an interview at Shangri-La Hotel on 12 April 1977.   In mid-1977 I was informed that my application was successful.  I got cold feet and tucked that letter away in a file.  They sent me another letter asking for my reply in November ( if my memory served me right).  I kept on thinking of  SLL's - my good friend and confidante - advice:  "Maz, as a Malay graduate, you won't go far in Singapore.  Your future would be better if you were just a factory worker.   If I were you I'd leave for Malaysia."

Well, as usual, circumstances and fate (?) helped me to make the right move.  Just a few days before January 2 1978, the beginning of the new academic year at JSS, I received a letter from the MOE (Ministry of Education) stating  that I had been transferred to ACJC (Anglo-Chinese Junior College).   I knew something sinister was afoot.   It was a plan that the Nanyang Mafia had drawn up to get rid of the craw in their throats.

In the first place, such transfers were usually given out weeks before the beginning of the new term.   This was like the rabbit that the Nanyang Mafia had pulled out of their hat.  Secondly, as a teacher in a Christian Missionary Sixth Form College, albeit one of Singapore's pukka schools, my future was doomed.  Moving you sideways meant that your upward mobility was extinguished.

I was told that during the first School Assembly at JSS,  no mention was made of the whereabouts of Miss Hamid, one of the school's Senior Teachers.  Usually the Principal would announce the arrival of new teachers and thank those who have been transferred.  I was quite simply airbrushed out of the picture.  I would  whenever possible, make several visits to the school to meet up with my former colleagues.  At times I would 'bump' into the Nanyang Mafia and their cronies on the school premises but they very quickly slunk away for an escape hole when they see me about.  I do enjoy re-visiting my /their sins!!


I dutifully reported for work at ACJC on 2 January 1978.  The day before, on 1 January I handed in my one month's notice of resignation to the MOE.  On that same day I wrote a letter of acceptance to the post of Education Officer in the Government of Brunei's Department of Education.

That transfer would be the biggest favour that the MOE of Singapore had given to me.

Syukur Alhamdulillah.

To be continued .......

A Tale or Two

In the light of the recent brouhaha about the "Christian threat" Seminar in Johor,  I recall some instances of my encounters with Christians and Christianity.

Like the merchant houses and various types of carpet baggers,  missionaries and Christianity came to our part of the world on the coat-tails of  Portuguese, Dutch and British invasions and imperialism.  One very potent vehicle for lubricating the colonial system and for conversion of the natives was the setting up of schools - for both boys and girls.  The missionaries undoubtedly contributed a great service to education in the far corners of the British Empire but it was a very successful enterprise which brought in bountiful dividends, both  financially and spiritually.

One very, very successful story is that of the Anglo-Chinese School in Singapore.  It could even be regarded as the Eton of Singapore.

I can claim  two very peculiar  flings in my education in Singapore.    The first - which also marked the beginning of my education -  was my one-day sojourn at Pasir Panjang Malay School - that beautiful school by the sea at 6 milestone Pasir Panjang Road.  The last was at Anglo-Chinese Junior College, better known as ACJC.  That was just for one month, for January 1978.  That year also marked my final break from teaching in Singapore and the beginning of a new, wonderfully weird and wandering life.  Like my ancient ancestors who were maritime nomads, I became a terrestial one.

The background goes like this.  When I came back from my study leave at London University in 1975, I was posted to what the likes of the wealthy well-scrubbed boys in ACS would describe as a sink school.  Jurong Secondary School was initially a Chinese medium school tucked away in the 'jungle' of Jurong.  It expanded when Jurong became the hub of Singapore's industrial revolution.  It had to take in the English medium teachers and students but the reins of 'power' were held - or should I say, monopolised - by the Chinese stream Nanyang University graduates.  After a year spent in JSS, I dubbed them the Nanyang Mafia and sometimes the "Gang of Four" (as in Chairman Mao's PRC at that time).

The English stream students were treated like second class citizens.  They were constantly picked upon by the Disciplinary Teachers, mainly  Nanyangians.  Those from the Chinese stream were treated with kid gloves. 

My best friend  KT  was a brilliant English Literature teacher but she was relegated to teaching English as a Second Language in the Chinese Stream.  As she was not a Graduate she had to give way to someone who was .  KT and I will never forget this Graduate's excuse for not wanting to teach Shakespeare's  "As You Like It".  She did not study that particular play while she was in University!!!!  Do they still make graduate teachers like that today?

So  KT went to her first ESL lesson in  Secondary Two  Chinese Stream .  When she greeted them with the usual "Good Morning Class" , they responded with grumpy mutterings - almost hostile.  Then one of  the girls stood up and haughtily asked KT,  "You are Chinese, why do you teach English?"  For a moment, KT was stunned.  She simply told them,  "I am here because I was given this duty by your Principal.  Whether you like it or not, English is an  important language for you to learn."

A few days later as KT was walking past these Chinese stream classes the students had prepared another greeting for her.  They snapped shut very loudly one by one, a series of louvred windows as KT walked past every classroom on that floor.  She was assailed by the sound of snap, snap, snap from the louvres of each window frame as she walked along the corridor.  There was no one to be seen - just that serial clattering of  snaps.  KT kept calm and when she got to the Teachers' Common Room, she broke down.   How cruel, these snaps of bigotry from such young souls.  All said and done, the Principal attempted to assuage KT's anger and explained to her why these Chinese stream students did what they did  blah, blah, blah and all they had to do was to make a curt apology to their  "Sen Sen".

Hats off to you Malaysia - in making Malay the National Language and the medium of education.   Fifty-five years on and I can still hear those snapping louvres!!

By my second year in JSS, I was promoted to  Senior Teacher for the English Stream.  I made it my duty to 'correct various anomalies' in the administration of the school.  For instance, the winners of the oratorical and story writing competition were usually given prizes of Mandarin Dictionaries.  I put a stop to that practice.

There was "a problem", they said, of getting the right prizes.  I offered to get it done, to select the most suitable English  language books for each  level .    That would be too costly, they said.   I asked them how much they allocated for the Chinese stream.  On that basis, I had no problem getting the kids the right books.  It took me several  trips from Jurong in the west to MPH and other bookstores in the  city centre, but they loved what they got.  That did not win me any hearts from the Nanyang Mafia.

When the school was organising a trip to West Malaysia for the students who had done well,  I stood my ground and made sure the English stream students were duly represented.  And on the first lunch break of that 'holiday' in Malacca, I blew my top when the non-Chinese students were told to have their meal in a Chinese restaurant with the rest of the entourage. The Organising Committee lumped everybody's diet to be the same as theirs.  I remembered one statement I made which made them turn purple with fury.  "Is it that difficult to get Muslim and non-Chinese food for us in West Malaysia?  This country has more Malays and Muslims than Singapore!"   So I bundled my non-Chinese ( not just Muslim) students off to a suitable place to eat. And  I did that for every meal at every stop.  The expense came from my own pocket.  The Committee expressed no sympathy or culpability.  I made no claim because it was all too dingy and sickening.

I reckon that was the last nail for the coffin the Nanyang Mafia had prepared for me, for Miss Hamid.  As a Senior Teacher, my next step was to move up - to a Principalship.  I had all the qualifications, the experience and my CV was immaculate.  But they had other plans.

The link with Christians and Christianity?  Wait for the next instalment.

Seksualiti Merdeka

If I was born in 1997 I would have a tough time right now coping with the pressures of being a female Muslim teenager, especially my sexuality.

There are all these early photographs of me ......... especially this one looking like a cool dude in my dad's shades, at the Singapore Botanical Garden when I was 4/5.

According to LGBT ideology this is most likely an indication of a non-female sexuality trying to 'come out' of the oppressed female/feminine Muslim's sexual ethics.

Should my parents be hauled over the coals for repressing my 'true sexuality'?  I think this is probably what they will say.

PARENTS:  Sometimes, in our culture .........

VICTIM-FEMINISTS'  WATCHDOG  (VFW):  You mean the oppressive Patriarchal Culture !!!

PARENTS:  ....... in the hope that it will catch, parents will dress up their daughter in boys' togs (mind you, not for all of the time) so that the next baby might turn out to be a boy.

And hey presto, it worked!  Mustakim was born giving them an ideal number of two girls and two boys.  Of course it's not as certain as going for a scan and then aborting the foetus if it's not the desired type.  After all, abortion is another much-vaunted human right like the right to happiness and freedom.  It has even been resorted to as a form of birth control for some busy women in Britain.

VFW:  What about this then? 

The scruffy kid on the right (front row) looks like a Hari Raya 1948/1949 version of Richmal Crompton's 'William'.

PARENTS:  Well, we can't stop her as she loves her boy's outfit.  We know she feels a little left out being the second child, stuck between the special first-born sister and the first son and the youngest one, you know, the second child syndrome.

But she seems comfortable and happy - we think she will grow out of it.  Children do go through such phases of wanting to be different, to demonstrate their distinct identity.

VFW:  What do you mean by that?  So you think that her dressing like a macho-male female is only a phase.  You believe that she could or would grow out of becoming a feminist/lesbian/transgender - that she will recover from this - like getting over a nasty flu?

PARENT (ABAH):  Hey, hold on a minute.  Where did you get the idea that a girl who likes to dress up as a boy is a budding lesbian?

PARENT ('MAK):  Abah, lesbian 'tu apa?

ABAH:  Nanti Chah. Nanti abah terangkan.

VFW:  How about this picture then?  She's now 15 and she's still trying to express her true sexual identity - to escape this patriarchal cultural agenda.

Above is the Kampung Abu Kassim 'samseng' at Jardine Steps sporting her butch hairstyle.

15 YEAR OLD TEENAGER (pleading) :   Stop it everybody!  Let me have my say.  I was born a girl and I'm happy to be one.  I love wearing those comfortable 'boy outfit' because I lead an active life riding bicycles, running around the backyard chasing the chickens in the evening to get them into the hen-house, wandering around the kampung with Mus cutting grass to feed the geese, cleaning the goose-house and uncovering their eggs  as well as cleaning the rabbit-hutch.  Also I love climbing up the hills along South Buona Vista Road (or The Gap) with my brothers - you can't do that wearing a frock or a baju kurung, can you?

Sometimes I dress up in the same girly attire as my sister which my dear ole mum had sewn for us.

Admittedly till today,  my sister Maznah always, always looks prettier than me.  And she's a better cook too!

By the way Abah, what is a lesbian?

ABAH:  It's ... it's a girl who ....likes girls ...ummhh ... prefers girls to boys.  And don't tell your mother.  She might throw away all your shirts and shorts!

But Abah, I like boys too.  Did I tell you about my boyfriends when I was in Primary One?

FRONT ROW:  Au Guat Eng (2nd from left), AsH (5th from left)

BACK ROW:  My boyfriends, Tan Aik Chuan (5th from left) and Ang Hock Kee (8th from left)

When I was thirteen, I fell in love with Ng Kian Ann.  It was a love that dared not speak its name because he was Guat Eng's paramour.  Guat Eng and I were always placed in the same team whenever we played netball.  You see, one day she fainted during PE.  When our teacher lifted her up, I had to tell the other kids to keep quiet (in those days, us demure girls never use the word 'Shaddup') and behave themselves - because they were all yelling, 'her knickers .... see her knickers!"

And then in 1957, on our last day in Pasir Panjang English School, before we all went to separate Secondary Schools,  Kian Ann waited for me at the bicycle shed ......

ABAH:  All right, all right. That's enough!  

31 August 1957, Tengku Abdul Rahman called out "Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka"  and I saw my father's tears.

Now, if I had been born in 1997, I would have to ask these questions.

Abah, what's this "Seksualiti Merdeka"?  Has Merdeka got a gender?  Is it because freedom must be made more sexy?  Or is being sexy and doing all kinds of sexy stuff, freedom?  You said Merdeka has to do with seeing our country free from British Colonialism, of working hard and being responsible for our country's safety, well-being and freedom?

  Datuk Ambiga Sreenevasan mentioned the "marginalised LGBT"  in the campaign for "Seksualiti Merdeka".  Can  the 'marginalised'   include the poor, the orphans, the single mothers, the drug addicts, abused children and women, the OKU, the alcoholics?  Will there be a "Merdeka" campaign for them as well?

I know now that 'L'  refers to Lesbians.  What is the meaning of Gay (G), Bisexual (B) and Transgender (T)?

The dictionary says  'gay' means mirthful and cheeky.  I am always a happy and cheeky little sod.  Does that mean I am Gay too?

ABAH:  Look, I've got a headache.  Please get on with your homework and then help your mother with the laundry and the gardening.

That's yucky work.  Can I wash the car instead and Mus can do the laundry?

ABAH :  Just go!!!

Am I glad I was born in 1944.  Life was so much simpler for tomboys then, with no worries about being deconstructed by the Post-Modernist brigade.

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

Of course, Hamid's daughter Number Two had many girlfriends like Tai Ann, Geetha, Sumijah, Soh Khim, Maimunah, Asmah, Yvonne, Jeya, Dorothy, Ann, Aysha Bevee and a string of boyfriends stretching from Singapore to Brunei, Leicester and Penang.

When Hamid's daughter Number Two had enough of her wonderings and wanderings, Iain Buchanan managed to clip her wings (only with her permission of course) and got her started on wifely duties like cooking and marketing and sewing.  Strangely enough, she likes it.

But she still wears the trousers.  Here's the middle-aged Dominatrix, boots and all,  happily married  to the unflappable cameraMAN.

Mus, you refused to give me any chance to wash the car but you made up for it - years later - by introducing me to David Armand.  Thank you.