ROYALTY

On 24 April 2017, the Sultan of Kelantan, Sultan Muhammad V will be installed as the 15th Yang di-Pertuan  Agong of Malaysia.

This occasion is described as an 'Installation' and not a 'Coronation' (from the word coronet which is also a crown).  Part of the Yang di-Pertuan Agong's Regalia is the Tengkolok di Raja (a traditional head-dress) and it does not include a Crown. Malay Sultans are not crowned (except for the Sultan of Johor).

After 73 years, (although I spent my first 63 years as a citizen of the  Republic of Singapore)  I am just getting acquainted  with the whats and whys and hows  of this unique system of  Constitutional Monarchy.  I am just beginning to come to grips with the history and legacy of  the Lingga-Riau Empire. Their Royal Regalia is similar to that of  Malaysia's Paramount Ruler specifically items like the Keris  and the Cogan. 



 More fascinating for me is the Nobat di Raja.

Here's a video of Perak's Nobat di Raja at practice.

No,  AsH has not gone dewy-eyed over Monarchy and Royalty.  Let me describe  phases of my span when Kings and Queens became part of my education - during Colonial times and the
Singapore-in-Malaysia era.

For a short spell when Singapore was part of Malaysia in the 1960s - Singaporeans faced the prospect of having a Monarch: a Sultan who is a Malay-Muslim and carries the nomenclature of  Yang di- Pertuan Agong as the Head of State.  The closest thing they could relate to a "Sultan"  is  Masjid Sultan or Jalan Sultan, where Malays and non-Malays would flock to for Malay and Indian-Muslim  culinary delights during every Ramadan.  As for Johor, it is the nearest neighbour with a Sultan, but Singaporeans were not too impressed with the 'stories' regarding the then Sultan of Johore.

From September 1963 to August 1965 ( which coincided with my sojourn at the University of Singapore )  we sang  Negara Ku  as our National Anthem.  The line  "Raja Kita Selamat Bertakhta" carried no significance for us  and we could not connect with the institution of the Yang di-Pertuan Agong in Malaysia.

But then, Singapore's very own National Anthem Majulah Singapura was sung with gusto at every morning Assembly in schools, and when a pupil was asked the title of the  Anthem, he happily gave the answer "Mari Kita"  (the Anthem's first two words)!

In Singapore, Malay might be the National Language (then), but it carried no kudos and no significance. Besides, Malay schools were flagging in their enrolment (like some vernacular Chinese schools in Malaysia today) and were left  to die a natural death, especially after August 1965.

When I was teaching at Sekolah Menengah Yusof Ishak in the late 1960s, I met a number of pupils who, in their 4th/5th year at Kampung Jagoh Malay School (Telok Blangah Road), had to menumpang at Jubilee Malay School (off West Coast Road) when their school enrolment reached a critical level.

By the 1970s/1980s Kampung Jagoh Malay School and Jubilee Malay School ceased to exist.   As they withered away, there were no voices that would or could whimper and mourn their demise.

But I'm digressing.

Interestingly, Dr Toh Chin Chye (1921-2012), a founder-member of the PAP, and a former Deputy Prime Minister (1965-1968) wanted the Anthem to be in Malay "as this is the indigenous language of the region "  and it would "appeal to all races".  A whole lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then!!

In 2001, the Anthem was re-arranged by Mr Phoon Yew Tien in "the musical key of F".  This arrangement was "grander and more inspiring" in order to make the anthem "more accessible to all Singaporeans".

[Details regarding the Singapore National Anthem were taken from www.nhb.gov.sg]

During the courtship period between Singapore and the Federation of Malaya, I recalled an incident that stuck in my psyche - that convinced me that this "arranged marriage" would not work.   One party was chalk,  the other was cheese.  More than that, the agenda - implicit and explicit - for the merger was fraught with duplicity and opportunism.

What was the incident?

I was with some of my fellow undergrads in the Union House canteen chatting about the hottest topic on the campus - of Singapore in Malaysia.  I was the only Malay in the group.  One of the boys cheerily quipped, "Yah man, we shall have AH GONG as our Head of State!"  They were beside themselves with glee and cackle -  except Maznoor bt Abd Hamid!

After that startling revelation, I wrote an article for the Bulletin of the University's Democratic Socialist Club entitled 'SULTANS : AN ANACHRONISM? ',  I wish I had kept a copy, but in those days we were still using dinosaur technology.  In a nutshell, I stated that Sultans, like the British Colonials and the Chinese tycoons, have a place in the political makeup of the country - and especially the Sultans.  If they had not been conquered, conned and cajoled (and sometimes connived) into opening up their States, there would be no Singapore or Malaya or Penang.  Just as the British Isles is the United Kingdom, 'Government' in Malay is translated as Kerajaan.  Very flimsy ground maybe, but there's a limit to the insults and encroachment that the Malays can take.

When Singapore joined Malaysia, it became obvious that the main thrust of the PAP's agenda was to agitate for Malaysian Malaysia.   It was a glib and disingenuous mantra, which sounds like one thing, but it means another.   Today, though differently packaged it is still part of the agenda of the DAP, a clone of its cousin in Singapore.

So why did I write that article?

 I am no great fan of Royalty, local or foreign.  They were only characters in movies like 'Hang Tuah' (re the self-indulgent, unjust and effete Sultan) and 'Bawang Putih, Bawang Merah' (this time the handsome prince, which many red-blooded damsels dream of marrying).  Titles like Tengku or Raja or Syed for that matter do not leave me in awe.     But, enough is enough - just how many more apples do they want to pick off the tree??


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I reckon there are some in Malaysia who will snigger, mock, ignore or at the very least tolerate this Royal ceremonial event that takes place  every five years.

However this septuagenarian remembers how Singapore and the Federation of Malaya went to town to celebrate another particular Royal Event.   Here are some images from the "Penang  Settlement Coronation Celebrations" of June 1953.

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second and the Penang Settlement Souvenir Programme.

The pages relating to "The significance of the Crown in Malaya" indicates that the nine Malay Rulers are only entitled to the appellation  'His Highness', not HRH ('His Royal Highness).  Mere titles they may be but it still reveals the pecking order.  Malayans then were quite at ease and happy with this version of imported Royalty and feudalism.  How different  should they be today?

The Nine Sultans - His Highnesses taking their place in this Ceremony.

The following extracts describe the 'Historic Ceremony of Coronation'.

In 1953 I was just nine years old and we had all this procedure explained to us in our classroom.  I was fascinated by the Orb and the anointing ceremony.  Fancy rubbing  your hands and head with
"holy oil from the Ampulla which is poured into the Anointing Spoon".  And we were informed by our teachers that this means " she is blessed and consecrated as monarch and made ready to receive the royal vestments and regalia, the outward symbols of her office".  We hung on to the words to imagine all these rituals taking place.  I remember being quite gobsmacked ( though that's not the right word for 1953) and we little brown children of the British Empire sat there on the floor with glazed eyes and (some) open mouths.

The Orbs

The Mace (top picture), The Royal Sceptre and the Jewelled State Sword (lower picture)

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Here's the Malaysian version.

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But I must admit most of that pomp escaped us and all we wanted was the Coronation souvenir badge.

Now that I am 64 years older I find these parts of the Ceremony quite fascinating.

1. Then follows the administration of the Oath, in which the Queen, in answer to questions put to her by the Archbishop, promises to govern her people according to their laws and customs, to "cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed" and to uphold the Protestant faith.

2. The Queen then takes the Sword and goes alone to the altar and in an act of symbolism offers it to the service of God and lays it down.

3. The Bible is presented ("The most valuable thing that this world affords.  Here is Wisdom; this is the Royal Law; these are the lively Oracles of God") and the Archbishop's Benediction follows.

The Queen is then ceremonially assisted from the Coronation Chair to the Throne, and in turn the Archbishop, the Princes of the Blood Royal, and the senior member of each degree of the peerage, kneel before her to pay homage ....


Certainly the Yang di-Pertuan Agong's Installation won't be as complex and ostentatious and magnificent and sumptuous and showy as the Coronation of a Christian British Monarch whose reign covers half of the globe.  Malaysians who prefer to be Republicans can take comfort from that difference!

Finally, how did the Rakyat in Penang celebrate that joyous day?

And finally, a grand tribute from the Rakyat in Penang to Queen Elizabeth the Second -

That lottery is for the construction of a permanent memorial,  a concert hall named Queen's Hall  in Coronation  Garden.     What is $200,000 worth in today's money?

The intent of this posting - nine Sultans taking turns to be the Yang di-Pertuan Agong is simpler (and more interesting) than having a permanent lifelong monarch.  Every nation needs a figurehead Head of State.

For the Malays - whose economy, demography, government and culture have been subverted and muddled by the appetite of Britain and its compradores - please, please let them keep their Sultans .... and please, please save them from the Republicans, the puritan Arabists and all shades of Shakers and Modernisers.

Confessions of a Veteran Street Protestor

PART ONE: My Lady doth protest too much

 I was young, I was naive. I had unbounded self-confidence (or arrogance?), thinking that I knew just what my country needed and how!  With gusto and hauteur, my fellow undergraduates and I in 1966 marched in protest at the Singapore University Campus against the Suitability Certificate  (a condition for admittance into University) and the right for Academic Freedom and Autonomy.

AsH the Samseng 'freedom fighter' - 4th from left.  (Note the scooters on the right.)  One of the placards carried this indignant message : Politics NO!  Integrity YES.  Some of the leaders and participants on that march - when they graduated and moved into the real world - took no part in either politics or  integrity!!

Out of that single Campus protest I recall  one of the most radical and vociferous voices against the system, who became a member of a political club - no, not the Democratic Socialist Club (a sort of wishy-washy pal of the PAP) but the more radical Socialist Club.  After we all graduated in 1967, this  hard-core 'leftie'  (by Singapore standards) got himself a plum job in the Ministry of Culture, Singapore.  It's all about the fox in the hen-house!  Or the proverbial 'heart on the left and pocket on the right' !!

So you see, protests of the young and not-so-young against the system are nothing new.  Although it's quite impossible to see this scenario in Singapore  nowadays (no wonder several of our politicians and social commentators are dead keen on emulating Singapore)  protest  movements in Malaysia are almost like an annual festival, in all shades of colour, gaiety and agenda.


Another fascinating feature of these Malaysian "Springs" is the network created, extending over national and international landscapes -and even occurring in one of the world's youngest states, Timor Leste.  This, of course, is partly because (compared with the dinosaur-technology of  the 1960s) communications today are much more advanced, with the internet and the social media making connections more pervasive and widespread.  But I often wonder why this 'spring' has not sprung in Malaysia's own backyard in the  rural and poorer parts of the nation.   Could it be they don't have mobile telephones?    Of course they do.      So could it be other things are more important??


Then there's the matter of leadership, and who it is that inspires.   Well, every cause and protest movement must have a leader - a charismatic and articulate leader who can wield the arm of unity of belief and purpose.  And such a leader there is, according to a reliable source: one who crossed the globe to make a  "special guest appearance in London to meet Malaysians ..... kindly agreed to give a talk this Sunday 23rd August in Central London."  And who then "flies home to take part in the main KL march but she will be with us in spirit."       The leadership's clarion calling sounds almost messianic.


But let's not forget that there can be other external guiding leaders and mentors like the Oslo Freedom Forum, organised by Thor Halvorssen Mendoza's Human Rights Foundation (HRF).

See  http://anaksihamid.blogspot.my/2014/10/oslo-freedom-forum-aristocracy-of.htm


Here are extracts from the above post:


1.

2

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PART TWO: The burdens of youth

George Bernard Shaw had this to say about Age: Youth, which is forgiven everything, forgives itself nothing: age which forgives itself anything, is forgiven nothing.

I do envy the young Malaysians who, on the 29th and 30th August (with non-Malaysian support) had the means, the reasons and the opportunities to go into the streets of London, especially at Belgrave Square, to demand the resignation of the Prime Minister of Malaysia.

In 1975, at the London University School of Education (Malet Street), I was sitting in a classroom with my other classmates waiting for the lecturer to turn up. Then a couple of students stopped at the door, calling us to join them in a demonstration downstairs.  One of them  gave me an intense look as if to say "what about you?".  I had to respond,  " Sorry, I'm here at my own expense. I intend to get the education I paid for."  Some of my classmates shook their heads to indicate 'no', the others simply ignored them.

You see, I couldn't afford to expend my energy and time supporting "good causes".   I was living week to week on my meagre allowance.  By the weekend, I would have just enough  milk and bread to see me through till Monday when I began my next allowance.  For 'entertainment', my good friend Loo Lee and I would pack a meal of sandwiches and milk and go for lovely, long walks in the various beautiful parks in London or venture to the free British Museum and National Gallery.  For transport we had our monthly season ticket on the Underground.

Furthermore, my father did not have the benefit of a pension or an accumulation of  property and financial reserve to subsidize my one year at London University.  In fact, my parents were dependent on my siblings' and my financial support.  For this post-graduate course I was supporting myself on my savings and my six-months half-pay.  I had my budget finely tuned so that it would last right through the Examination and I could then seamlessly get back to teaching when I had the additional piece of paper.  I toyed with the idea of spending another year at the School of Education to get to the Masters-of-Education - I reckoned I could get by for the extra year with part-time jobs. (I already had an evening job clearing tables at the ULU Refectory).   But three months into my course, on 21 December 1974, my father passed away and I knew I had to go home and stop at the Academic Diploma. The Masters degree had to wait - for another 10 years.

PART THREE: Growing old ... and angry

Jai came along with us for this demonstration against the war in Bosnia in 1995.  The brown bag contained our drinks and food for lunch and pre-dinner comestibles.

Since the mid-1980s, the spouse and I have been to umpteen protest marches in England.  It involved travelling nearly 100 miles from Leicester to London and another 100 miles to get back home. Sometimes we took the National Express coach, or we drove and parked the car at Golders Green. At other times we travelled with the local Anti-War or Support for Gaza coaches.

 We also attended several marches in support of the two Intifadas - in 1987 and 2000.  This was where I saw what grief for your homeland can look like ; a grief that is quiet, enduring and painful. There was no music, no dancing, no enthusiastic sounds from drums and horns that usually accompany a demonstration.  There were mums and dads pushing their little ones in buggies.  But the most poignant and heart-rending was this Palestinian family.  The father had his 5 year old daughter on his shoulders and the mother held the hand of their 8 year old son and they walked and chanted in a tone only audible to anyone immediately next to them, "Palesteen .... Palesteen ....Palesteen".  (The Palestinians do not pronounce the last syllable as tyne.)

 At the turn of the 21st century there were two huge demonstrations against the War on Iraq.  My sister and brother-in-law, Mak Haji Maznah (60) and Pak Haji Harun (67), - two retired cikgus  from Batu Pahat -joined us for the 400,000 anti-war demonstration on September 28, 2002. That was a day they will never forget.

We were on our own for the largest ever protest march - over 1 million - on 15 Feb 2003.  We were all expressing our worry and concern over a second attack on Iraq (following the First Iraq War of 1990-1991).  This anti-war protest took place all over the world.   Of course, thanks to the arms manufacturers, the oil-thirsty industrialists, Israel, the Islamophobes, the power-mad leaders like Blair and Bush (AND with the tacit and not-so-tacit agreement of the Arab states) Iraq was shredded to pieces.  But this was just part of the bloody dismemberment of the Muslim world (from Iraq, Libya, Yemen, and Syria, to Palestine, Somalia and Afghanistan) led by the world's two most powerful Judaeo Christian nations.

The Anti-War Protest of 15 February 2003.

Such is the strength of "people power" that one month later - after and despite this huge demonstration against the War -  on 19 March 2003, Bush invaded Iraq.

The protest against this war was expressed not only by Muslims (well, some Muslim nations) but across every colour, creed, religion and nationality.

Then in November (18-21) 2003, Bush made a formal visit to Great Britain.  He was granted a Royal audience.  The establishment knew of a looming anti-Bush and anti-war demonstration and decided to keep Bush's route a secret so that the American President would not be embarrassed by those tens of thousands of the British populace lining his route and calling him a war criminal and shouting at him to go home.

November 2003 - the spouse holding our very own home-made and home-designed placard.  It was inspired by that very popular 1960s song, "Yellow Rose of Texas".

By then , of course, the British public were weary, disheartened and disillusioned.  The main issue of the war against the Muslim world was less popular - although people did at least maintain a sense of loyalty to their "boys" who were fighting in a war that they did not want or believe in.  (Which made me wonder: would most Malaysians feel and act the same way in supporting our "boys"?  The history of the Communist Insurgency from 1948 to 1960, at least, suggests not.


After 2003, in Leicester and London,we attended several other activities in support of Palestine and Gaza.   We got no buzz and no kick from such demonstrations.      In fact, if anything, we went with a sense of gathering despondency at the way so many hundreds of millions of people were being made to suffer..

And I would always remind myself of a basic truth: as a Singaporean and later a Malaysian, I had been so very fortunate in never having to suffer or fear mayhem and bloodshed because my country had been attacked and occupied by the Big Boys of the world.
   
                                     .....                    .....                    .....                    .....

For one who's a loner and a maverick, I don't expect overt support for my unconventional and bolshie viewpoints.     But I do try to remember the victims.     Of all kinds.      I hold very dear this memory from 1978 when I was sent to teach at Anglo-Chinese Junior College, Singapore's most pukka missionary Sixth Form College.

See :  http://anaksihamid.blogspot.my/2012/05/acjc-finale.html

Of course, the world is much wider than this.    In the end, I can only hope that our (and so many others) presence at all those street protests will transmit to the voiceless, neglected, unrepresented victims our empathy for their sufferings.   And the knowledge that they are not alone - albeit it's just cold comfort.

The news cries out for more empathy.    Take the plight of refugees risking their lives to escape war and violence in their now-demolished homelands.     The sound of (near) silence is almost deafening.

Good Luck Syrians, Iraqis, Palestinians, Yemenis, Libyans, Somalis, Eritreans, Afghanis, Rohingyas  ......

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.

Colin's Fault

The Moon, with Jupiter , a little dot just to the northwest.  Seen from our front door on 21.11.2013 at 2330 hours - thanks to Colin who pointed them out to us.

Colin came for dinner and when he departed for home he left  us the vision of the moon and Jupiter - in the sky, in our spirit and in our heads.  He also got me hooked on watching out for Comet Ison  (both the real thing and on the Astronomy Websites) which was supposed to be visible around 3 December.  On 11 December 2013, ISON was pronounced dead - that it did not survive its encounter with the sun.  But there's hope that fragments may have survived.






The first video gives a description of the arrival of the comet and the second is interesting for comparison of size and sightings of the comet in November.

Now if I had got to be this keen on stargazing and comets when I was 16, I might have turned out very different -  female Malay  Astronomy Geek instead of female Malay malcontent.  But as Colin puts it,  "You're never too old to learn"  The trouble is, when I was 16, Colin would just be a snotty kid of 6!!

As if that was not enough, Colin tempted us with an evening of Stargazing at University of Leicester on 8 January 2014.  We applied and we managed to get our places.  Of course Mr Colin Brooks, Chief Photographer, Creative Services, External Relations, University of Leicester encouraged these two geriatrics with a beautiful skymap to be used for the evening - made by the young man himself!

www2.le.ac.uk/institution/stargazing-live/event-documents/360-star-map

Here's a list of the activities for the evening.
www2.le.ac.uk/institution/stargazing-live/event-documents/welcome-and-activities-list-programme

AsH admits she has been guilty of truanting on the usual ramblings because she's been too starry-eyed, so to speak.  She has literally gone over the moon  with these two photographs of the moon taken in the backyard.

The Moon on 21 Dec 2013 at 0732.

The Moon on 25 Dec 2013 at 0731

In the span of 4 days the moon has moved further to the left of the photo - to the east.

But, above all, a few words about Colin.    Colin has been University photographer for over 40 years.   But Colin lives and works in a box far far bigger than his job.   He is an amateur astronomer, a musician, a lover of maps, and an all-round technical whizz kid.   He has a love of life and all its mysteries.   And that wholeness of vision is what inspired these two old cynics to look at the stars, seriously, for the first time in their lives.  He's a gem.  He must have arrived on earth via a meteor fragment!

And so let me end  with these two poems - in Malay and English - on the moon, extracted from two 1950s/1960s school textbooks.

The Yusof Ishak Years - A Preamble

Remembering one's first place of employment  ......

Sekolah Menengah Yusos Ishak / Yusof Ishak Secondary School. 1970s.

........ is somewhat like recalling one's first love.  It's a touching experience - but sometimes it's one you prefer to forget or suppress.

My launch into Singapore's Education Service and into Sekolah Menengah Yusof Ishak - today known as Yusof Ishak Secondary School - was not an inspiring encounter.

As a recipient of the Special Malay Bursary for University, a career as a teacher would be my destiny.  And so it was a requirement for the Bursary that you  take up teaching subjects like History, Geography and English.

In the first year of Singapore University an undergrad had to choose three subjects.  You then specialised in your choice of your Degree during the Second Year.  You could decide on either a One-Subject or Two-Subject Degree.  Of course you needed good results in your First Year before you could qualify for a One-Subject Degree.

My subjects in my First Year were English, Geography and Political Science.  I loved the challenge of Political Science (PS) - it widened my interest in what was going on in the political maelstrom of Southeast Asia and the rest of the world.  This was the time of the bloody Vietnam War, of Singapore in and out of Malaysia, of Confrontation with Indonesia, of racial riots and the rising serpent's head of racism and racist politics in and out of the Campus.

I desperately wanted to do PS One-Subject.  I was eligible for it and it would be so satisfying for me to study a subject I loved.  But, because of the conditions of the Bursary I had to twin PS with Geography, a teaching subject.

I had been keen on Geography since my days in Primary School.  Even today, I am still fascinated by maps and atlases and analysing the connection between climate, landscape, demography and economic activities. But then, as an undergraduate, I was to be sorely disappointed.  The Professors and Lecturers in the Geography Department were quite soulless and unimaginative.  The members of Staff - some of them, not all - ranged from the self-centred and smug to the opportunistic.  To be fair, I suppose you could find the same atmosphere in most of the Departments in Singapore University in the 1960s.

However the Geography Department had a culture of snobbery - of pursuing a kind of favouritism for the One-Subject students while the Two-Subject undergrads were regarded like second-class school-goers. Even the Administration and Technical staff practised this discrimination.  The Department even had a rest room exclusively for the One-Subject students in the Department Building.

The entrance to the Geography Department in the old Bukit Timah Campus.  Photo taken in 2011.

As for the PS Department, they were not partial to any particular category of students - we were all undergrads who needed to learn and to be taught.  Also there was a very mixed assortment of Staff members from different parts of the world. As far as I can recall, there were hardly any local dons.  I supposed that mixture encouraged a more liberal and open relationship between the academics and the students. For me, that made learning a very fulfilling and enjoyable experience.

My choice of subjects was an odd one -  I think I was the only one in my year combining Geography and Political Science. For the Final and Third Year Examination (which also determined whether you got a General or Honours Degree), my Time-Table was so ridiculously tight.  I reckoned it was scheduled for a candidate in a pressure cooker.  I clearly remembered completing  half of my 8 papers on two consecutive days.  I just didn't have time to breathe or to stagger my revision like most of my peers.  We all know how the scheduling of an Examination Time Table can make or break a candidate.  But that was the luck of the draw and it had to be taken in its stride - a good lesson that served me well for the rest of my working life.

When you are young, you harbour such idealism about life and learning in the hallowed halls of a University.

You imagine your lecturers to be dedicated scholars purveying their knowledge with much pride  and interest.  But the scales fell from my eyes. Most of them were condescending and treated us like school children, like a kind of low life.  Some were blatantly lazy like the American lecturer who took up half of the lecture period on British politics regaling us about how the English hold their teacups. Then there were those who were pathetically 'hamsab'  (lecherous in Cantonese) and who spouted cliches like  "Singapore has the highest density of pretty girls in the world".  Still, these we could handle.  It was the arrogance and  the patronising attitudes of some of the Academics that were harder to absorb.   

You also imagine your fellow students would be keen to discuss, debate and share their knowledge and interests with you and others.  Instead they stashed and hid the required reference books in nooks and crannies of the Library only for the eyes of themselves and their cronies.  As for the Red-Spot books, really crucial reference books which could be borrowed for only an hour - you would  find your name as fifth or sixth on the waiting list and yet you'd notice the same person consulting the Red-Spot book for more than two hours.  I soon discovered their technique - you got your boyfriend/girlfriend or cronies (that word again) to sign after you!  As I had no boyfriend, I reined in the help of my sarabat stall undergrad mates to sign after me.  As they say, 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do".

There also existed an unwritten Social Cycle - that female undergrads should start scouting for a boyfriend during the Second Year so that by the Third Year they would have a "steady" - to be followed by a wedding after Graduation.  There you are - you've made it - two pieces of paper!  A Paper Degree and a Wedding Certificate!

Crikey, was this what University was all about? 

I felt so disillusioned that I would ponteng lectures and make a getaway to the nearby Botanical Gardens at Cluny Road to enjoy the company of the trees, the lake and the resident monkeys. I very nearly made a decision to leave University during my Second Year and apply for a scholarship in Physiotherapy in New Zealand.  But the head had to rule the heart because I could not renege on the Bursary - my family did not have the resources to fund my discontent.  Furthermore I had to remain where I was and eventually get a "good job" after my Degree.  That was the only way we could persuade our Abah - who had a heart problem - to retire.

After three years - in 1967 - my parents and I finally saw the day that we had been struggling for - my Convocation.

But this was not the end of my education.  There was more to come when I was appointed as a teacher in Sekolah Menengah Yusof Ishak in February 1967.  However, it was only in May 1968 that I was appointed as a Trained Graduate Teacher.

The real world was banging on my door.  University days were beginning to feel like a big sleep-walk.