Parlimen Hawaii usul penyatuan Dunia Melayu pada 1879

Kemaskini:

Terjumpa lagi tulisan tentang usaha awal menyatupadukan Dunia Melayu:

http://austronesian.host-ed.net/GenInfo.htm

Kutipan:

"However, not all Austronesians accepted colonial rule--in fact most did not.  Revolts against the Dutch, the Spanish, the Americans, and Portuguese were frequent and intellectual movements dedicated themselves to the single task of rebuilding nationhood by reasserting the culture and the past of the Austronesian forbearers. In the 1860s, King Kalākaua of Hawai'i--an independent kingdom at that time-- founded one of the earliest nationalist newspapers in the Pacific. Ka Hōkū o Ka Pakīkīpa (The Star of the Pacific), which as the name suggest was nationalistic, progressive and Pan-Pacific. In 1879, he authored a bill in the Hawaiian parliament--the first democratically elected national parliament in Austronesia--to formally declare Hawai'i as an Asiatic Malay state and went around the world in 1881 making visits to Japan, China, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, and India. King Kalākaua through discussions with Maharajah Sultan Abubakar bin Tuan Ibrahim of Johor, Malaysia, began to formulate the idea of "Pan-Malay Unity" and discussed the idea of a federation to combat colonialism. The Maharaja was already well known among the Hawaiian royals for gifts such as tiger claw necklaces (which can be seen in official portraits of Queen Emma and Princess Pauahi) and would later give King Kalākaua a copy of the Malay translation of the Quran. 

Queen Emma of Hawai'i wearing the tiger necklace that was a gift from Johor

Remembering the Malay Radical Left

Update:
Salute to the forerunners of Malay nationalism and independence movement - Mohd Eunos Abdullah, Yusoff Ishak, Ishak Haji Muhammad (Pak Sako), Burhanudin Helmi, Mustapha Hussein, KAUM MUDA, KMM and KRIS stalwarts and supporters. They are the real home-grown freedom fighters and liberators of their homeland - Semenanjung Tanah Melayu, Tanah Air Tercinta. May Allah bless their souls, pardon their sins and welcome them into His Eternal Garden (Jannatulnaim).
================================================================
In light of the recent controversial statement by PAS Vice President, Mat Sabu, that a certain 'Mat Indera', Chin Peng and the CPM were the real heroes instead of the men in khaki uniforms (AND their families - innocent women and children who were burnt alive) who defended the Bukit Kepong Police Station in 1950, I feel compelled to wake up from my 'long slumber' over the holy month of Ramadan and first half of Syawal.

I, too, had subscribed to critical theories and political economic analyses of the media system which were founded on Marx's and Engel's theories on capitalism and used them in studying media ownership and content rather than the so-called 'pro-status quo' positivist theories. 
However, as a Muslim, I would stop short of embracing Marx's supposition that religion is the 'opium of the masses' except for moments when it is actually used to pull the wool over our eyes. And I'll definitely refuse to condone mindless atrocities committed under the guise of a social revolution and an international movement to 'liberate' the proletariats from the bourgeoisie's exploitation, with connections to an external Politburo in Beijing.

(Lately, however, I've grown closer to Allah's Laws on how social, political and economic systems should operate, but that's a topic for another day).

This so-called polemic on the eve of the nation's twin Merdeka-Malaysia celebrations brought back memories of my father and his contemporaries who aligned themselves to the so-called Malay Radical Left movement for Malayan Independence in the '40s and '50s.

Having been exposed to the spirit of Pan Arabism right after the Fall of the Ottoman Empire, my late father bought the notion of 'Melayu Raya' and Maphilindo lock, stock and barrel. He was willing to strain relations with his father (an Old School Ulama') and grow old in destitution by selling his share of the family property to finance an anti-colonial press in Perak, a paddy field in Kahang and a fish/coconut venture for unemployed Chinese converts and Indonesian youths (ex-jailbirds whom he met while spending time in Outram for smuggling fire arms from Indonesia).

He also bought Soekarno's contention about Malaysia as a 'neo-colonial construct' without suspecting that Big Brother could have had expansionist ambitions too. Well, wasn't it the tussle between Majapahit and Sriwijaya which led to the founding of Melaka, more than 600 years ago? Even Manila with her dream of a Greater Malay Nation (Some Day, Malaysia) had her sight set on Sabah.

Just like the elusive concept of Pan Arab unity, Malay solidarity in the Nusantara is often thwarted by conflicting interests and intense power struggles. Forget about regional cooperation with 'saudara serumpun' (regional brethren), even internally the cracks and cleavages are widening with each passing day. 
I wonder if Mat Sabu ever stopped to reflect on the high costs of political notoriety at the expense of Muslim-Malay harmony? 
Still, I'm hopeful that a truly post-colonial Malaysia will emerge, with Brunei and the four provinces of Southern Thailand cleaving into its fold. 

Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka!

Of Culture and Crime in Singapore

So there I was, more than a fortnight ago, traipsing around Geylang and Joo Chiat with my cousin Pet, trying to capture my elusive childhood memories.

Gone were the smelly wet and dry markets, now it's all under one organised and sanitised complex.  Gone were the grimy bus terminal, the crammed textile shops and the flea-infested cinema.  No more pawn shops, no more street hawkers operating from their portable wooden stalls in the narrow back lanes.

The mi rebus and sate vendors have moved to the neat and orderly food court with its brightly coloured plastic tables and chairs stuck to each other.  We shared a pre-lunch bowl of mi rebus from Haji Watusi, while an old friend of my cousin's, vented her anger at Malaysians in general and Johorians in particular.  The lack of system, efficiency, hygiene, security, so on and so forth.  The unveiled jealousy the Johorian Malays harboured towards Singaporean Malays who own upmarket properties in Johore, yadda yadda ...  
When I returned to KL, I encountered a news article (below) which broached on the issue of rising crime, stress and suicide rates in the island republic.  How I wish I had also asked the antsy lady what's her take on the possible erasure of the last Malay cultural showcase (apart from Kg Glam complex in the Arab Quarter) right there in her beloved neighbourhood. After all, she had also lamented on George Yeo's agreement with the PRC government which had led to the flooding of mainland Chinese food servers in Geylang and Joo Chiat, whom even Halal outlets such as Hajjah Maimunah (where we had our lunch) have to hire over fellow Muslim brethrens from Malaysia and Indonesia who could, of course, speak the language of the majority of their customers.
  

Petition to preserve Malay Village Geylang Serai

Dear all,
The management is requesting that our lease with Housing Development Board be extend as the lease will be expiring in September 2011.

We seek your support in appealing for extension of lease so as to enable Kampung Melayu Geylang Serai to continue and provide an ideal place for anyone to experience various cultural activities, shopping and dining amidst the kampung atmosphere.

Saturday July 9, 2011

An epidemic of corpses

INSIGHT DOWN SOUTH
By SEAH CHIANG NEE

IN RECENT days, parts of this law-and-order city, whose murder rate ranks as low as Japan’s, resembled scenes from the American TV series Crime Scene Investigation.
Against its staid nature, seven gruesome bodies have been found in various parts of the island since July 1, unrelated to each other – at a rate of one a day.
In fact, the grisly spate had begun earlier, from around mid-April when a decomposed body was found in a luggage bag at the casino resort of Sentosa.
A month later, an Indonesian maid’s body was discovered submerged in a rooftop tank that supplies drinking water to nearly 200 residents at Woodlands. Her Bangladeshi boyfriend had been arrested.
Since then a total of 13 bodies have turned up, prompting shocked citizens to ask: “What has become of Singapore?”
Police investigators and pathologists – as well as sociologists – are working overtime to probe this epidemic of corpses. Most were believed to be murder or suicide victims.
Until a clear picture emerges, people are blaming it on the rapid intake of foreigners, as well as the presence of two casinos, or possibly both.

Wat-er tragedy: Police removing the body of an Indonesian maid who was found in a water tank on the roof of a flat in Singapore on 16 May. — Singapore Straits Times / Asia News Network

As a result, the second most densely-populated city in the world (next to Monaco) is now also poised to overtake Las Vegas as the second largest gaming destination as well.
These two factors have pushed economic growth sky-high but few ordinary citizens are celebrating.
Families are extremely concerned about the social impact they may bring – including crime, family stress and suicides.
“In fact, they may already have started to take a toll on society,” said a housewife.
Several of the bodies had been found in surrounding waters or forested areas, a few having died or been killed some time ago.
Among the grotesque finds was the lower half of a decomposed female body which was discovered floating in the Bedok Reservoir, a source of drinking water for many Singaporeans.
So far, the phenomenon has not really dented Singapore’s reputation as one of the world’s safest cities, with an average of two murders a month. This works out to 0.5 homicide per 100,000 people, a proportion close to Japan’s and slightly ahead of Hong Kong’s.
But suicides here are another matter. Despite its prosperity, the republic ranked 43rd in the world in 2009 with 401 cases; that was before the casinos opened their doors.
At least half were non-Singaporeans, a few of them China mainlanders. In the latest case, a decomposed body was found near the National University of Singapore (NUS) on Wednesday.
Two days earlier, a couple taking a stroll along the Singapore River were shocked to see the corpse of a Chinese woman floating below the Helix Bridge.
Many Singaporeans are wondering if the 38,600-strong police force is adequate to cope with the population expansion – by 65% to five million since 1990.
Long overcrowded, the city state has undergone a tremendous transformation in almost every field.

Financially, people are generally richer, live better; most youths are better educated. But among the lower income earners, social problems and tales of poverty abound.

As bodies were turning up, the state television reported that the Government was picking up the highest number of homeless individuals in the city in four years.
A total of 339 homeless individuals and 15 homeless families (totalling 50 people) were found last year – compared with 217 individuals and 17 families (comprising 82 people) in 2009.
Nearly one in every six households has more than US$1mil (RM3mil) in assets, making it the densest population of wealthy households in the world, according to the Boston Consulting Group.
But despite the high GDP growth, the lot of the other half is gloomier.

Widely-travelled business consultant Imran Ahmad likened it to “Singapore’s long trip from Third World to First World and back to Third” in which serious crimes are getting more common.

The city before 2004 was less crime-prone, Imran noted. He named some recent social ills: floating corpses in drinking water tanks, a flabby (family) man dressed in wet underwear at Singapore Zoo, a woman threatening a train official after refusing to pay her son’s fare – and so on.

“It is impossible to turn the clock back. Nor does one wish to return to the past. However, Singaporeans must be conscious of society’s direction,” he warned.

Meanwhile, a Chinese-language tabloid reported that a man was arrested for attempting suicide at a flat – half an hour after another man had fallen to his death in the same block.

The public is showing a mixture of bafflement, anger and worry about these social ills.

“Floating bodies are found everywhere every other day,” said a man who wished to be known as Swift Disaster.

“Our crime rate used to be among the lowest, with incidents like these (ones) very rare.

“Foreign workers (are now) robbing and killing each other and domestic maids, illegal prostitution is on the rise, our void decks are being terrorised, rubbish bins being scattered.

“Our children no longer feel safe in the streets of our home. Our aspiration of becoming a First World standard in everything is taking a toll on our lives.

“I hope it’s still not too late for us to make changes where needed and bring back the beautiful Singapo­rean lifestyle. It (might not have been) perfect but it was beautiful.”

End of the line

The Tanjong Pagar railway station was taken over at midnight,
on July 1, 2011, by Singapore.

I know it's been more than 10 days since the date of this article but I've been busy with house guests, outstation trips and pressing deadlines.  However, I think it's still current given the despair voiced by poets and artists over the loss of the last Malaysian property in Singapore.  I wonder what's the reaction to the plan to demolish the Malay Village in Geylang after the Eid celebrations in September?  

Saturday July 9, 2011

End of the line

By Louisa Lim

A group of party-goers decided to take to the tracks after learning about the closure of the historic Tanjong Pagar railway station. However, saying goodbye to the past is never easy.
What were they thinking?”
That was my first impression of the passengers on the final train into the Tanjong Pagar railway station. To spend eight hours onboard a wobbly, old train to Singapore was one thing, but to spend eight hours onboard a wobbly, old train just so you could bid goodbye to a railway station in Singapore ... well, that’s just plain lunacy.
But the Tanjong Pagar railway station is the Mick Jagger of railway stations: it may be old and decrepit, but it still has its fair share of groupies. I spotted one of them, Singaporean Zakaria Jaafar — who was proudly clad in a black “Last Train to Tanjong Pagar” logo tee — just as I heaved my bags onto the Ekspress Rakyat’s upper-level compartment and plopped onto one of the musty cushion seats.
“This isn’t just any railway station,” corrected Zakaria, a jovial 45-year-old oil company employee who was returning from a holiday in KL with his family. “This used to be the only way Singaporeans could travel to Malaysia and vice-versa. Previously, passengers needed to use ferry boats to cross the 1km straits.”
And today, Tanjong Pagar would be closing down for good after almost 80 years of operation. Like many historical sites in fast developing countries, the land it is sitting on has been earmarked for development. After this, the Keretapi Tanah Melayu Berhad (KTMB) station would be relocated from Tanjong Pagar to the Woodlands Train Checkpoint, a place often criticised for lack of toilets and cramped space.
“It looks too much like a prison,” commented at least one other person.
Meanwhile, Singapores’ Straits Times reported that a steady stream of people had been visiting the old station to catch a glimpse of its last days. Others like me had taken it a step further: we would be joining in a party of more than 100 people on June 30, to celebrate the station’s final moments by making a last journey there by train.
Inside, the mood was pensive. Apart from the group of Chinese aunties who were yakking up a storm in Cantonese behind me, much of the conversations that floated around were muffled by the thundering clatter of metal against track. It became obvious, as soon as the train pulled out of KL Sentral, that this was not going to be the type of party that left one dazed and confused the next day.
Rendezvous with ghosts
“The last time I travelled by train was back in 1984, before my daughter was born,” said Zakaria. “I’m actually doing this for her today. She’s 16, but she’s never taken the train before.”
Staring past the grimy windows, I can make out wooden houses nestled among the graceful sweep of coconut trees and shimmering green padi fields. The images of pastoral beauty occasionally gave way to dull, grey slabs of concrete and heaps of multi-coloured rubbish that dot the tiny industrial towns. As this scary prophecy flashed before me, I couldn’t help but wonder: Just how much has changed? Would the train’s very first passengers from 1932 recognise Malaysia if they saw her today?
While the outside scenery evolved over years, the carriage still looked as if it was stuck in a time warp, at least according to Zakaria.
“As far as I can recall, not much has changed since my last trip,” he said, scanning his surroundings. “The only difference is that there’s air-con instead of fans now, and the seats are not wooden anymore.”
Two men pushing a cart full of ready-packed food and drinks shuffled past the aisle. I waited for them to pass, before getting up to explore the other carriages. I ambled unsteadily past groups of people — kids, teenagers, the elderly — sitting placidly in their seats, their faces lit by the afternoon sun that streamed through the windows.
After his four-month journey across Asia by train, American novelist Paul Theroux wrote in his book, The Great Railway Bazaar, that “the trains (in a country) contain the essential paraphernalia of the culture.”
“Thai trains have the shower jar with the glazed dragon on its side, Ceylonese ones the car reserved for Buddhist monks, Indian ones a vegetarian kitchen and six classes, Iranian ones prayer mats, Malaysian ones a noodle stall, Vietnamese ones bulletproof glass on the locomotive, and on every carriage of a Russian train, there is a samovar. The railway bazaar with its gadgets and passengers represented the society so completely that to board it was to be challenged by the national character,” he recounted.
While I didn’t see any noodle stall on this train, I did see many friends and families. They filled the train with myriad colours and hailed from all social and economic strata of society. Some were Malaysians, but many more were Singaporeans. Among them was Melissa Lam, 19, a journalist with big hair and even bigger personality.
Lam, who had taken a budget flight from Singapore to Kuala Lumpur the day before just so she could be part of history, revealed that she was inspired by Before Sunrise, the romantic drama in which a couple meets onboard a train.
“None of my friends wanted to do it with me so I got a ticket myself,” she said, snuggling up to her only companion, Ollie the Frog, a giant green plush. “Nobody wants to talk to you on a plane but on a train, you have all the time in the world to make friends. People are friendlier because they are more relaxed, I guess.”
However, some people like Emily and Edmund Tan, retirees, cite practicality as the main reason they have been travelling to KL by train for more than 10 years.
“We choose to travel this way because it gives us a freedom of movement. But of course we’re going to miss the old station, especially the teh tarik and the potato soup there,” remarked Tan, whose lined face lit up as he recalled the many eateries there.
Speaking to random people at a time, I discovered that nobody knew the fate of the teh tarik man or the famous nasi briyani stall once the curtains came down. All they knew was that there’s nothing quite as delicious anywhere else in Singapore.
Balik kampung
Three hours into the train ride, I discovered that there was a rite of passage that every reluctant train passenger had to go through: using the toilet. Trying to relieve yourself in a moving train makes learning a new language like Russian look really easy. Without proper technique, there’s a pretty good chance that you will mess up ... literally.
But no matter. I burst out of the toilet feeling rather triumphant for a first-timer. Basking in the glow of my own personal victory, I was momentarily oblivious to my surroundings, accidentally bumping into a stern-faced train supervisor. Mohamad Sharif Baharom, 51, however, was not as crotchety as he looked.
“I’ve been travelling this route every day for the past 30 years,” said Sharif, who spent countless Hari Raya and New Year’s Eve days onboard the train. “I’ll go from KL to Singapore, and then stay a night at the KTM living quarters in Tanjong Pagar, before heading back to KL the next day. It gets lonely, so I always wind up celebrating the major holidays with my passengers.”
Sharif also expressed sadness at the closure of Tanjong Pagar.
“I’m sad to leave my old post,” he said. “People have been comparing it to the Woodlands checkpoint but I don’t think they can. It’s a beautiful place, but of course, people prefer new things these days.”
The gloominess that hovered between us immediately evaporated when the train pulled up at Segamat. A large group of party-goers and media trolls from Singapore and around the world clambered onto the train, armed with drinks, cameras and high spirits.
Perhaps the most unlikely party animal among them was Rosemary Ong, who had travelled to Segamat with her friend and father that very morning. Dressed modestly in shorts and T-shirt, and lugging a big trolley bag for “shopping purposes”, the vivacious 50-year-old real estate agent said she had taken a day off work for the occasion.
“I like the idea of anything new, and a party on a train sounds exciting enough,” she said, grinning manically. “Honestly, though, I still feel very sad about Tanjong Pagar, even though I hardly take the train. It’s Singapore’s very own kampung, and when I went there last night to get tickets, I could see how many people loved it. Even the old ticket-seller had a good cry when he rolled down the shutters for one last time.”
While Ong is more of a car-and-plane person, she confessed that sitting in a train brought back a rush of fond memories.
“We used to have a house on KTM land, and it would shake whenever a train passed by. The trains also acted as our alarm clocks at 6am every morning,” she said.
It was then that we heard the announcements. Ekspress Rakyat would be arriving at Tanjong Pagar in another half an hour. I looked out the window, hoping to get a glimpse of the Green Corridor, a new proposal by the Nature Society of Singapore to preserve the lush greenery that had sprung up around the station. But it was dark out, and all I could see were outlines of cars and people alongside the tracks. They clapped, cheered and honked as we chugged past, and we returned their greeting.
Much to everyone’s surprise, the train arrived on schedule. I stepped off of it, only to find myself swallowed up by this sweating, heaving, shouting mass of humanity. People were rushing forward to pose for pictures with this magnificent steel giant, so I trudged to a little corner with my luggage, hoping to steer clear of this bedlam.
From the sidelines, I watched as KTM officials became instant celebrities. Visitors clutching mementos — caps, bags, key chains, mugs, you name it — crowded around these men in blue for photographs and autographs. Station manager Shamsul Bahari, 43, said he had signed more than 1,000 autographs since morning.
A number of people also leapt onto the tracks to pocket some rocks as a souvenir. But it was reported that one of the most coveted souvenirs was the 50 pieces of S$200 (RM490.40) silver-chromed sculpture fashioned from bits of old railway track. Those who bought them believe they would increase in value.
The Sultan of Johor appeared soon enough, and he too, was not spared from the autograph-signing and picture-taking frenzy. With one final bellow, the last train pulled out of Tanjong Pagar, with the Sultan at the controls.
“I didn’t understand what was the big deal at first as old railway stations close down all the time in my country and nobody really cares,” said Dipashree Das, 30, a journalist from Bombay. “However, the more I did my research, the more I found out why they get so emotional about it. Some have been travelling for decades. There are also many couples that met, feel in love and got married here.”
Das did not have to complete her sentence because I already knew.
“The station’s their last link to the past,” she said anyway, frowning as the last of the revellers trickled away. “From today onwards, Singapore will just be another big, modern metropolis.”
Follow Louisa Lim at www.twitter.com/lolibites
Related Story:A quick history lesson

Always rolled your eyes and wondered what the big deal about the Tanjong Pagar railway station was? Here are some fascinating facts that might change your mind:
● It’s supposed to have been the southernmost point of an ambitious vision to link Europe’s vast rail network to one that would span Asia, and eventually connect with the rest of the Far East. If completed, Singapore would have served as the gateway.
● Its main building opened on January 2, 1932. In his speech to officiate the opening of the station, Governor of Singapore, Sir Cecil Clementi Smith, said, “We stand here at the southernmost tip of the continent of Asia”, adding that he had “not the slightest doubt that for centuries this Singapore terminal station will stand here as one of the most nodal points in the whole world’s scheme of communications.”It is thought to have been designed after Helsinki’s Central Station and shares elements with Washington D.C.’s Union Station. The style of architecture selected, Art Deco, was thought to combine Western and Eastern influences.
● The four Angelo Vannetti sculptures on the façade of the building represent the four pillars of the Malayan economy – agriculture, commerce, transport and industry. A Chinese temple also inspired the green-tiled part of the station’s roof.
● The railway platforms were some 366m long, built to cater to the longest of mail trains. Third class passengers had to use a side access to the platforms.
● In April 2011, the Government announced that the Tanjong Pagar Railway Station would be conserved as a national monument. Prior to this, there had been suggestions to turn the place into a museum, or refurbish it into a pub-and-restaurant.
Excerpts taken from http://www.thelongnwindingroad.wordpress.com/.

Cruise from Port Said to Malaysia in 1934

Attended a briefing at the SWAM (Screen Writers' Association of Malaysia) office at Desa Melawati last night (mind the nasty potholes on the road before you turn in to the shoplots, guys).

A bigger crowd than the ones I fraternised with at the two workshops on (Fundamental) Screen Writing and Directing at FINAS which I enrolled myself in.

It's a steal at RM50 per weekend class (Saturday & Sunday), with three full meals thrown in (yummy too, not cat chow).

There was a general spirit of camaraderie, among aspiring and published writers, griping about the challenge of writing for an audience hooked on 'melodrama, horror and comedy'.

Now, I wonder if I can translate whatever I have so far into a 12 episode of 60 minutes' series?

I found out it's much 'cushier' to be a channel-zapping critic than to actually conceptualise, pitch and write a whole series ...

Lemuria - the origin of the Malay race?

This video showed the traces of an ancient civilisation which spread between Madagascar and California. The existence of the lost continent of Lemuria/Mu has been substantiated by the discovery of giant monuments by a Japanese professional diver off the coast of Yonaguni, the southern most island in the Japanese archipelago.

This notion of the Atlantis or 'Eden of the East' has been propounded by Oppenheimer via his 'Out of Sundaland' theory which debunked Bellwood's 'Our of Taiwan' assumption. Hopefully, with this revelation, more readers will subscribe to blogger Srikandi's claims of Hapshesut's journey to her ancestors in the East and that the word 'Pharoah' came from 'prahu'.

Joan Baez - Where have All The Flowers Gone

This song may be the anthem for the anti-war movement in the sixties, and not an appropriate tribute to teachers, but for me, ultimately education is about promoting peace among fellow brethren on Earth.
"Amal ma'aruf, nahi mungkar" (Do good, not evil)
What is the purpose of teaching if it's for our children to learn the tools of exploitation, oppression, manipulation, hatred and genocide?
Is it justified to use our knowledge of mathematics, logic, science, astronomy and the arts to equip them with the drive to invade and impoverish other nations?
On a lighter, and less idealistic note, let me share with you the teachers who had, wittingly and unwittingly, shaped my life.
Like most kampong kids in the sixties, my parents didn't have the wherewithal to enroll me into a 'sekolah makan', a kindergarten, so I was like a 'rusa masuk kampung', a little lost doe in the unfamiliar terrain of the school compound.
Mak accompanied me on my first day to school (and way into the rest of the school year).  She had my hair cropped so close to my round face that I looked like a 'tomboy' in a girl's shirt and starched, orange pleated skirt. For the first time, I had white socks and Pelican-polished canvas shoes on.  She had bought me a brown plaid square hardboard bag with plain plastic guards at the corners from Pasar Geylang.  She handed me a few brown cover exercise books and a pencil case to put into the bag and showed me how snap the metal latch together.
By 11:30am, the 'apek becha' (trishaw man) was already ringing his bell to get us to board the side car attached to his bicycle. He cut through Chai Chee to join the rest of the traffic on Jalan Eunos, then stopped at the t-junction before cycling straight into Still Road, deftly turned left and right, and there we were in front of the side gate which led to the 'tuck shop', where many moms and kids congregated.
I clung to my mother's hand as we made our way to the cafetaria. I only released it to sit on the edge of a long bench, careful not to crease my new uniform or soil my new white shoes. I held on to my new school bag on my lap while Mak bought 'goreng-gorengan' (prawn fritters) and syrup water for lunch. The plump fritters were soaked in a pool of thin chilli sauce; I chewed a quarter of the fried fritter and gulped down the crimson syrup. My tummy was in a knot.  I waited anxiously for the bell to ring before I blended among the row of new found classmates who were assembled in double files under a placard written '1K'.  After the principal, Mrs Whissell, had given her welcome speech, we obediently followed our teacher, Miss Suppial, to our class on the left wing of the second floor.
I don't remember much about my class mates, except for Zainal, who was the class clown, and Nasir, the precocious boy that I was seated next to.  Zainal was a natural entertainer who seized every opportunity to 'perform' in front of the class whenever the class or subject teacher was away while Nasir looked like a street urchin who was 'straight jacketed' into crumpled shirt that was carelessly tucked into his short pants.  I was not comfortable seated next to the big-sized, hairy and crude 'Benggali' boy but never thought of requesting to be seated to a class mate with more refined manners.  For the rest of the school year, I just focused on my lessons, occasionally amused by Zainal's antics and persistently ignored Nasir's foul body odour and lewd body language.  And when my second brother knew about my predicament in class, he tried to humour me by singing a silly ditty about my supposed admirers - 'Aceh, Jenal, Yon' (Nasir, Zainal and Haron, who was the boy next door).      
I might have been a 'terror' at home, running around the yard and climbing the ubi and jambu trees, but I was on home ground with the neighbourhood kids whom I'd known for years. In that fenced and neatly demarcated compound, I felt awkward and hemmed in.  I don't remember having any close friends 'til my last day in 1965. For several months in my first year, Mak would wait for me at the canteen during recess and took me home in a 'beca' or 'teksi pak wan chah', a shared unregistered cab, after school. In between classes, I would excuse myself and peep through the louvres along the corridor to assure myself that Mak had not abandoned me.                
Fortunately, I was relegated into the 'back burner', the last or second last class of the Telok Kurau West Integrated Primary School 'freshies' of 1963. My class teacher was a sweetheart - good-natured and gentle, with soft soothing voice, floating from full lips which stretched into smiles or laughter, and with, oh, just a hint of lip gloss. She always had a black tear drop or red disc on her forehead - a 'nandek', a girl whispered to me.  Thick, dark brows framed her almond-shaped eyes which were expertly lined with kohl.  Her shiny, black hair was neatly coiled in a bun and rested snugly on her nape. Her dark slender arms, embellished with colourful glass bangles which shimmered as she turned into the corner which led into my class room, would be clutching some folders or text books pressed against her slim chest, sheathed in a short-sleeved 'choli', or blouse, and draped with yards and yards of satin with thin, gold borders which flowed dreamily over her back and cascaded into wave-like folds around her ankles.
Mastering the 3Rs - reading, writing, arithmetic - was a breeze for me.  I made it to the third of my class and, in a hall crammed with kids on the floor, I received my first glossy, hard-cover, full colour 'ABC' book with a blonde, blue-eyed, benevolent-looking Queen holding a wand with a gold star on its cover.
The following year - in January 1964 - I was promoted to 2I and had a tall, full-figured Chinese lady, Miss Ong, as my class teacher.  In her low-heeled, black stiletto shoes, dark full skirts and light-coloured blouses, complete with dark-framed eye glasses, she fit the image of the school marm more than the nymph-like Miss Suppial.  What I treasured most being in her class was the many walks that she took us on under Nature Study.  I made good grades and was placed second in class in the second term but my grades were pulled down by poor performance in mental arithmetic (2/5), which earned me a ninth placing.
In January 1965, I was promoted to 3I, had Miss Ong again, managed to pull my socks up and was placed sixth and fifth in class.  And the reward came in the form of a slim, glossy, hard-cover, fully-illustrated book on King Arthur of England, A Sword in the Stone, which I read over and over again while waiting for my placement at Sekolah Jalan Gurney in Kuala Lumpur.
I never really bid farewell to that orange brick school which shared a common compound with Telok Kurau Malay Girls' School and Telok Kurau East School (which was attended by LKY and Tun Hussein Onn) but I never returned either.