Getting to Know the Soul of the Nation

The language is the soul of the nation

Sekolah Menengah Aminuddin Baki
was named after the champion of Malay education 

I felt like a poseur

When we had to use Jenny’s rich relatives’ address

A posh, two-storey residence

With a well-tended lawn

And wrought iron fence

On a street which sounded clever

Up on the rolling hill with the clean, fresh air

On the other side of the thoroughfare

Jenny was a distant neighbour from Singapore

Who moved to KL at the end of ‘64

Indeed, her relatives were kind

To allow us to use their home address

To keep in touch with the Singaporeans

And correspond with the Department of Education 

In mid February ‘66

Ma waved three brown window envelopes in our faces

Which Mal opened gently

While Yat and I waited breathlessly

Finally, news about our school placements

From the Selangor Education Department

Mal was to enrol at once

For his secondary two class

At Sekolah Menengah Aminuddin Baki in Kampung Pandan

A distinguished Malay school, we were told

While Yat was to commence

Her secondary education

At the Ampang Road Secondary Girls School

Notorious for its wayward students, it was soon revealed   

And I was accepted into Primary Four F

At Gurney Road Primary School (1)

That seemed like a promotion from 3H

At my previous school

Mal had to leave early before seven

To take two buses to Kampong Pandan

And since my school session was also in the morning

I had to be up before sun rise and start walking

Lucky Yat had the afternoon session

So a little after noon

Ma would walk her to the narrow, wooden bridge

To see her cross the shallow river with strong currents

That carried the assorted rubbish discarded

Behind the maladorous Keramat market

Making new friends in school

And the neighbourhood

Was awkward when you’re the new student

With the strange accent

From an island that had just been ejected

Out of the Federation 

We were swamped by new words

That flew above our heads

We had to train our ears to spot the differences

In the choices of words, meanings and pronunciations

So we learned to hold our tongues

To avoid embarrassing moments

But never tired of privately making fun

Of the words used for different body parts

Countless hours were spent

Imitating the way “they” –

The landlord, neighbours, teachers and schoolmates -

Spoke with such finesse

Which made "us" feel like savages

Such great pains to properly phrase their sentences

Or even questions -

“Dah berkelamin?” (Are you married?)

Asked with a shy smile

Unlike the straightforward Singapore style –

“Dah kahwin ke belum?” (Married or not?)

Gradually we learned to substitute cultured words

Such as the refined “suami” (husband) for the crude “laki”

The polite “orang rumah” (lady of the house) for the coarse “bini” (wife)

And the proper “lelaki” (male) for the vulgar “jantan”

And that was how we learned to dive into the soul of the nation             

There is no patron saint of literary spree

To commemorate Roald Dahl's Day, Bet fancied herself as Matilda
Photo taken from AMightyGirl

It wasn’t til February

When we got our placements in schools

In the period in-between

We unpacked the boxes of story books

Prizes we won from doing well in final exams

Or tomes tossed aside by wealthier cousins  

They were all eager to leave the confines of their prison

And share their content

Adventures to faraway lands and ancient kingdoms

A handy escape from our humdrum existence

I flipped the pages of the glossy, hard-cover, full-colour book

That I had won for being third in class at Teluk Kurau West

A Sword in the Stone recounted the trials and tribulations

Of young Arthur who was destined to be the King of old England

With the help of Merlin the Magician

He freed Excalibur from a hideous stone

And led the Knights of the Round Table

From Camelot to Sherwood Forest

I snooped into the exploits of Robin Hood

And his band of Merry Men

Who robbed the Sheriff of Nottingham

And hurled his gold to the peasants

Farewell to Medieval England

Off to a life as a cast away on a tropical island

Marking the long, lonely days

With my chums Robinson Crusoe and Man Friday

Another shipwreck, another tropical isle

To marvel at how the Swiss Family Robinson built their tree house

In their frocks and breeches

And used their rifles and explosives to fight the natives

From the West Indies to Wonderland

Sitting by the riverbank

With Alice and the Principles of Logical Calculus

Walking away from that "horrible place"

Trailing a talking white rabbit

Wearing a waistcoat and a pocket watch

Falling deep into his rabbit hole

To open a tiny door leading to a race

Where a small snail beat the other animals

Odd characters like the Duchess and her Cheshire Cat

The March Hare at the Mad Hatter’s tea party

The Queen of Hearts and her game of croquet

And the Knave of Hearts accused of stealing the tarts

I had to escape the wrath of the Red Queen

To follow Philaes Fogg on his bet with his friends

In Around the World in Eighty Days

Along with Passepartout, his French valet

And Aoda whom he saved from the funeral pyre

Back to Victorian London

I tried to outwit Dr Watson

In the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes          

And solve the mystery of Jack the Ripper

Who disappeared in the foggy winter

Along with the split personality

Of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

On to the Arabian Gulf

I boarded the dhow with Sinbad

To the banks of the Euphrates

And witness the splendour of old Baghdad

Onto the magic carpet with Aladdin

Transported to a secret cave with treasure chests

Overflowing with rubies, sapphires and emeralds

And held my breath as Sheherazade kept her head

By captivating the Sultan with her enchanting tales

Of A Thousand and One Nights

  

My voyage took me to the land of the Minangkabaus

I shed silent tears for Siti Noerbaya

Who was married against her will to the cruel Datuk Maringgeh

My lips uttered every word in the letters written by Syamsul Bahri

To his lady love in Tenggelamnya Kapal Van de Wyck

My mind trekked the steps taken by the ill-fated protagonist

Who sought his fortune in Merantau ke Deli 

From Deli to Padang and Bukit Tinggi

Where myths of princesses who turned into fish with golden scales

Flourished in famous Sumatran folktales

Which Mak had collected from her days at the highlands      

To all the trees I've climbed before

Nothing beats climbing, hanging on to or simply lying on tree trunks

Long after you've forgotten about the doll who cried 
When you pressed the round button between her shoulder blades
Who blinked her glassy blue eyes when you bent her golden head
Or your new dress with its fancy pleats
Or even your first glittery shoes with the diamante 
You'd still have the scabs on your limbs to remind you of the times you climbed to the highest branch of the guava tree
Or the fun you had playing 'bus conductor' on the old tapioca plant
Or just hiding between the trunks of the banyan

A New Place To Call Home

The KL Railway Station in December '65

The National Mosque was unveiled on August 27, 1965,
about four months before our arrival

In the pitch black night
The shapes of trees, bushes and railway quarters blurred

As the train whooshed by

Speeding through straight stretches

And slowing down at dangerous bends

Going over iron bridges

Crossing over streams and rivers

As it skipped obscure stations

And stopped briefly at smaller ones

The darkness gradually retreated

As day light spread

Silhouettes of domes and minarets appeared  

The locomotive reduced speed

And put on its brakes

To let us know that we've arrived at KL Station

A mosque like edifice with a cavern

Where the night train finally heaved, stopped and spit out

Its bedraggled passengers who had survived the 10 hour ride

We straightened ourselves

Hauled our bags

Trudged towards the exit

Held on to the hand rail

Gingerly stepped out

Of the carriage

And onto the concrete

A giant billboard with a sketch of a woman

In kebaya standing in front of a winding train

Smiled and welcomed us to this new location

Cries of porters eager to relieve travellers

Of their baggage, shattered our reverie

Ma found two that she fancied

We handed over our heavy cases

Which the men carried to the curb

Where they hailed a black and yellow cab

Mal sat next to the driver

As Ma, Yat and I plopped onto the back seat

Ma told the driver: 

“Can you take us to Lorong Keramat 2?”

“Sure, I can!”

He nodded, glanced and smiled at us  

Revved up the engine

And steered the old taxi towards the main road

Followed the round-a-bout onto the other side

Where there was another structure in the shape of a mosque

Grey and barefaced

Trust Ma to blurt out what was on our mind:

“The train station and this other building have domes and arches,

But the national mosque has opened and closed umbrellas!”    

As the cab rattled along the broad boulevard

We got to know the landmarks

Federal House – that tall building on the left

Held the offices and studios of Radio and Television Malaysia  

The Selangor Padang was where the Malaysian flag was raised

On the eve of Merdeka Day

Globe Silk Store and Chortimall on Batu Road

Odeon cinema on the corner of Campbell Road

Kampung Baru’s Sunday Market on Perkins Road

The Chief Minister’s house on Princess Road

Circular Road was the longest road

And Gurney Road which turned into Kampong Datok Keramat

If the national mosque had no domes and minarets

This village named after a grand saint

Had no markers

Unlike the tomb of Habib Noh

Up on the mound by East Coast Road

Or the grave of Raden Mas

On the edge of a hill

Looking out to a healing stream 

The cab driver signalled and crossed over

Pulled up by the side of a long wooden house

A thin lady looked out of the door and smiled

We got off and claimed our bags

As Ma paid our taxi fare

The landlady invited us in

There were soda biscuits and black coffee

Then she handed Ma the key to the rented unit

The last one on that row of units stuck to the main house

The pale blue door opened to a vinyl-carpeted living room

A single bedroom, a small kitchen and an indoor bathroom

The outdoor lavatory was a shack at the end of the lane

There was a large drain by the kitchen

Beyond that, tall grass grew wild by a shallow stream

Across the stream, a football field led to a school building

And across the road, the wet market which stank to high heavens

Across the Causeway II

Courtesy: johor48.rssing.com

      

     


     Stops Along the Tracks

It was around midnight

When the train groaned to a halt

At Kluang Station

Written in bold black

On a stark white board 

Rows of yellow wooden benches

Matched the wooden offices

Next to the ticket booth

Was a Chinese coffee shop

With its round, marble table tops

And curved wooden chairs

The kopitiams was run by Hainanese operators

Who served thick white loaves, steamed or toasted 

Generously splattered with Planta margarine

And thick layers of golden kaya spread

Half-boiled eggs splashed with dark soya sauce

And strong, black coffee in chipped porcelain cups

It seemed like yesterday

When we got off here

To spend our school holidays

In Kahang, about 40 miles away

We arrived at the tiny hut

In the middle of the paddy field

Which was ripe for harvesting

Pa had cleared the land and planted the grain

With help from his adopted sons

Razali, a mualaf, and a couple more young men

With unusual Javanese names which slipped my mind

Jobless youths whom Pa had befriended

While at Outram 
Or the tea shop at Central

 

The simple, country life was a new experience

We woke up to the sounds of birds chirping

The sight of golden paddy fields was refreshing

A splash of cold water from the pump

Boiled tapioca and sweet potatoes for breakfast

Boiled rice for lunch, withulam and fish from the parit

Narrow waterways in between the paddy plots

The boys brought home sepat, keli and haruan

Which Mak cleaned with lots of tamarind

And boiled with santan in earthen pots

Or fried and grilled them with tumeric
Dipped in soy sauce with cut chillis and garlics

Sometimes after our morning meal

Razali took us up the trail

Which led to the winding river 

As we passed the bamboo thickets

We took a deep breath

At the top of the rickety stairs

The clear water which flowed below

Lured us to brave the steep descent

To the jetty by the deep end

Where Razali left his rakit

A flat bamboo raft

Tied firmly with vines

Which ferried us across to the shallow, sandy bank

There we waded and splashed

Ma had our laundry washed

And Razali swam after small items

Swept away by the currents

We couldn't believe our eyes

When we spotted a snake with its ornaments

In a hollowed cavern
On the opposite bank

And heard a tiger's distant roar

Which made us quickly leave that shore

The kampong folks were full of tales

Of Sang Kelembai, the Fierce Ogre

Who felled the tall trees with both his arms

And Bunians, the sprites and nymphs

With their hidden communities

While on a walking tour one evening

The local guide pointed to a grass clearing
He whispered: 

“This is the site of the Bunian hamlet

They’re just like humans

But they inhabit a different dimension”

As if to welcome us

A sweet fragrant filled the air

“Be careful not to walk alone  

There had been cases of young men

Taken by the Bunians”

These creatures, it seemed

Had lured loners and simpletons

To be wedded to their women

Which sounded like the infatuation

Between Titania and Nick Bottom

Not long after our adventure in Kahang

We heard from Razali that the paddy project had bombed

They failed to harvest the ripened stalks before they wilted

And were out of funds to pay the workers' wages

When Pa returned home depressed

We were careful not to ruffle his feathers

It was the middle of the night

When suddenly everyone stirred

As the train approached the interchange

At Gemas, Negri Sembilan

Unlike Kluang and other smaller stations

Gemas had another set of railway tracks
Which branched off to the East Coast states -
Pahang, Terengganu and Kelantan

And passengers bound for those destinations

Got off and boarded another set of wagons

The stop was longer than at other stations

Indeed it was a chance to stretch our legs

Sip hot coffee or drop in at the public toilets

Since very few ventured beyond our seats
To reach the dining car and stinky WCs

During such long stops

Food peddlers got on board

To sell curry puffs, nuts and sweetened drinks

Ma made up her mind
We should refresh ourselves

And refuel at the kopitiam

With a clean Good Morning towel

Rinsed at the nearby sink

She scrubbed our faces of oil and grime

And ordered warm steamed buns

With cups of hot Ovaltine

My new belted dress

With its short, puffed sleeves

Was not exactly travel friendly

But Ma thought our friends and family

Should remember us at our most trendy

As the youngest

I was doted upon

Much to Mal's chagrin

Who revelled in horror stories

About me being a Changeling

And about Ma keeping a toyol

A chubby imp who stole money when he was told

And a pelesit, an evil spirit unleashed to wreak revenge

To be passed on to the last offspring