Growing Up Part XVI

The last episode gave you an idea how things were in the mid-sixties. Nowadays, getting circumcised is so easy and without much fuss and ado. That was also the era when television was launched. Bah bought a nice set, which was in black & white. There were no colour TV yet those days. Although the introduction of TV was something everyone was waiting for, particularly the novelty of TV itself. For us, it was not a big fuss because we were used to TV when we were in the UK.

In the evening, some of our neighbours from the village would drop by to watch. Bah was always very accommodating. He would always leave the doors open and they would come in and sit on the floor to watch the programmes. At anytime, there would be about eight to twelve of them, mostly kids. If any elderly neighbour came, Bah would invite them to sit with him. Although they came to watch TV with us, they were considerate enough to give us some privacy. They would not come too early nor leave too late. They normally come over to watch a drama or a movie when they are on.

The casualty due to the emergence of TV was our grand radio. This was not in total mind you because those early days, TV programmes started only in the evening. So our grand old radio still enjoyed our patronage during the day time. It still had a long life ahead because it followed us to our next move away from Telok Anson.

Life became a routine. I had to cycle about five miles each day during the week from our house to Bah’s college to practice my piano on the days that I had no lessons. It was quite tiring and I was getting to not like taking the lessons anymore. Furthermore, on certain evening, my brother and I had our violin lessons. Nonetheless, I still enjoyed my music.

When I completed my primary school and started secondary school, we had to choose a uniform body to join as an extra curricular activity. My brother, who entered secondary school earlier, was a Scout. This was in line with family tradition where Bah was already a King’s Scout. At times when he had invitations to a Scout’s activity, he would wear his uniform. He looked very nice in it except for his shorts. They were the fifties type, complete with pleats, large enough for two legs to get into on side of the pants, and the length ended just above the knee. It was starched so much that I think if you put on the floor, it would stand up! I think some of you would have seen him wearing the same shorts when he did his gardening many years later, but with the top button undone because he had gained weight.

The politically correct choice was for me to join the Scouts, but I felt more comfortable joining the St. John’s Ambulance Brigade. On the day of registration, I lined up together with the new recruits. I was standing near the end of the line with my classmate who was my best mate. He too had the same dilemma as me. When Brother Patrick (teacher in charge) was noting down the names towards the middle of the line, suddenly I had second thoughts and I ran out of the line towards the bicycle parking shed. I thought I was the only one who did that, but apparently my friend did the same too. When I asked him why he ran, he said that he was just following me. I told him I was not sure whether I should join SJAB because it might upset my dad. Funnily enough, he had the same thoughts too.

For several weeks I didn’t enrol in any uniform activity, until one day Brother Patrick summoned me to his quarters. I went to see him that same afternoon after school not certain what to expect. Brother Patrick was Irish was a top of red hair, and had a reputation of one blowing his top often. You wouldn’t want to be the brunt of his anger as whatever he was holding might fly to you. Our meeting was in fact very pleasant. He said that he wanted to start a band with SJAB. He had heard that I was keen in music and asked whether I would be interested to join the band as its Drum Major. I told him that I would be honoured to do so, but preferred to play an instrument rather than be a Drum Major. He agreed on condition that I would assist the person he selected as Drum Major.

I did join the St. John’s Ambulance Brigade, but not before I told Bah of my meeting with Brother Patrick, crossing my fingers hoping that he would not be upset by breaking the family’s tradition. I was quite taken aback because he said he knew about it already. The principal of the school, Brother Damien, had asked him earlier. Actually, Bah told him it was up to me to decide, but he would not have a problem with it if I wished to. And so, I had a couple of years in the band, starting from scratch together with Brother Patrick. Our band had basic instruments, mainly clarinets, piccolos, trumpets and bugles. Of course the mandatory drums and cymbals was a must. The only drawback of being in the band was the time it took off you for practices. It was putting a lot of strain between the band, my gymnastic practices and not to forget my piano and violin.

Bah had a history of gastritis, which would graduate to an ulcer. It was during our time in Telok Anson that he had an ulcer. It was serious enough for him to be hospitalised, not in Telok Anson itself, but in Batu Gajah, which was about two hours journey by car from where we were. Mum would visit Bah daily, going in the morning and coming back in the evening. On alternate days, she would make my brother and I come along. These were in the afternoon after our school. I had visited Bah about three times already when mum insisted I had to go with heron the next trip. Alas, it was the same day where I had my band practice too. I told mum I couldn’t go because of it. Mum blew her top. There I was, getting the full force of mum’s fury and dreading the next day of Brother Patrick’s wrath. Throughout the journey and at the hospital I was quiet and Bah noticed it. When he asked whether anything was the matter with me, mum went into her tirade of how selfish I was in wanting to go for my band practice rather then visiting Bah. I was expecting Bah’s to concur with mum, but was taken aback when he told mum that I should have gone for my practice because the band depended on me. Mum pulled a long face at that but kept her peace. Because of what Bah said, I was really glad I came to visit him instead, that he understood the dilemma I was in. I was doubly glad that Brother Patrick wasn’t angry with me when I told him I visited my father and couldn’t come for the practice. He said it was alright and even asked how Bah was getting on. In the end, I had to give credit to mum (although reluctantly) for making me visit Bah instead, because of the important lessons learnt that day. One was that your family must always come first, especially in times of need. The second was that your parents do know what was best for you, and therefore we should listen to them more. The third was that if you practise the first and second lessons, others would respect you more for it.

Eventually Bah recovered and came back home. Life got back to its normalcy again. I learnt later from Bah’s colleague, that his illness was serious enough to be life-threatening. You may say that it was only an ulcer of the stomach, but with the medical facilities and skills we had in those days, it might as well be.

What about my brother during all these events you might ask? Well, being the first borne, he was always my mum’s favourite. He was a Scout which made Bah proud and also they had many things to talk about and for Bah to show him scouting skills. Not that I was envious of him, but I can say that during that time, he had his priorities right, and recalling them today, I can say that I was proud of him. He understood my dilemma but didn’t say anything, which I appreciated. He could have made it worse though, but he didn’t.

Those were times too when Bah and mum had serious quarrels, or rather it was mum’s quarrel with Bah. Bah was a gentle soul and I had all my life not seen him having a quarrel with anyone (except with some politicians that he was not fond off). It lasted almost a week where we heard mum shouting and crying in the middle of the night. My brother and I couldn’t sleep as it was something new for us that had us worried. My brother would stand at their bedroom door, come back to the room and told me to do the same. I didn’t want to actually, but he forced me to. I didn’t realise the wisdom of this until one night, amidst the sounds of mum crying and moaning, we heard Bah calling us loudly to come to him. As we were already at their door, we ran in quickly. What we saw was shocking to us both. Bah was holding mum’s hands. In her right hand was a kitchen knife! Bah told us to take it away from her, which we managed to do. I knew Bah could have easily dislodged or taken the knife away from mum, but I knew he didn’t want to hurt her in any way. After we took the knife away, mum started crying more and started hugging my brother. It was sad to see her that way but Bah told us to quietly go back to our room and to take the knife back to the kitchen. My brother and I discussed the incident and we concluded that mum wanted to use the knife on her rather than on Bah. The quarrels ended after that eventful night. For me, it remained in my sketched in memory forever, because it was the first and only quarrels that mum had with Bah.

It wasn’t due to anything much really, except that mum felt jealous unnecessarily. At that time, an American peace corp lecturer was attached to Bah’s college for a couple of weeks. She was a nice lady, neither really pretty nor attractive as most American Peace Corps were, but soft spoken and kind. The issue was that Bah had to take her to visit schools where his students were attached. These were only day trips. Because of this, Bah couldn’t come home in the afternoon for his usual power naps. This lead to mum having wild imaginations and hence her quarrelled with Bah. Her jealousy took the better of her good judgement, and accused Bah of wanting to leave her for the American lady. Of course Bah kept on stating that they were not true, but mum refused to believe him. Bah being an educationist, was also a master in psychology. He was very patient with mum despite mum’s vehement accusations. In the end, every thing turned out for the better.

The quarrels lasted a week as I said earlier. It ended as quickly as it started. Bah came home in the afternoons because later I found out that he had requested one of the other lecturers to accompany the American on her visits. That was the father I knew and loved. He loved his family very much, and they very important to him. All his life, without us realising it, he made sacrifices for us all, his wife, his children, his in-laws, parents and his siblings and their children. He did all those things without any expectation of return or of anyone knowing he doing it. If there were a better example of the left hand not knowing what the right hand did, I would Bah’s the best example of one of such magnanimity.

I had to think twice about writing this sad episode in growing up, but I had promised to let you know how it was with Bah and mum. The good, the bad and sometimes the ugly are parts of our lives. We can’t run away from it. What is important is that we learn from them and try to make our lives and those around us, a better place and time to live in…….

Growing Up Part XV

Telok Anson was a turning point in the lives of my brother and me. It was a time when boys became men and with it came a different perspective of how we looked at our lives. It was the time when we were circumcised, an essential phase in the live of Muslim boys when they attained the age of 10 to 12 years old.

My grandma, Tok Bi, my aunts, Siti and Mak Chik, came to Telok Anson from JB for the occasion. Farid came too, but she was too small to remember any of these. It was wonderful with the house full of our family members, reunited once again after a long time. Sleeping arrangements were “as is where is”, but only the eldest and youngest got the beds.

Days before the event, I was getting more nervous and fretful. It was not something that I relished, having a part of my body cut-off…… doesn’t really matter which part really. Our friend Shamsul, had his done a year before and tried to tell us there was nothing to it. Although I had no reason to disbelieve him, still a concern lingered in my mind. The only guy who was smiling all the time was Swee Leong who of course didn’t have to do it! Teasing him to wipe the smile off his face, I told him that Bah had arranged the same for him too since he was more or else our adopted brother. That was the last we saw of him, on his bike cycling away as fast as he could. We only saw him the evening after our circumcision. He must have thought we were serious or if not, he didn’t want to chance it.

My unease didn’t get any lesser as the day approached nearer. The anxiety reached to a point where I risked speaking to Bah. I told him that as I was a year younger than my brother was, he should do it first and I could have mine done the next year (at least I got a year’s reprieve). If Bah had agreed to this, I would be in ectasy. Imagine that for one, my brother suffers. Two, I could taunt him and he couldn’t get back at me in his condition. I guess you all know Bah by now, nothing stops his plans……

The day finally came too soon for my liking. The house was full of guests, mostly neighbours and Bah’s colleagues. The hour came for my brother to be a man. I had to wait outside, although I would have loved to watch and see how they did it. At least it might lessen my concern (or heightened it maybe?). Less than 15 minutes he was out, smiling, wearing his sarong. He didn’t tie or folded the sarong at the waist as normally one would. He held top of it by one hand stretching as far out as possible. This was to ensure that the sarong would not touch the manhood, which must be sensitive then.

Thinking that as he went through the procedure without a hitch, I assumed that I would not have a problem too. However, as fate may have it, mine did not go smoothly as expected. Firstly, my brother whispered in my ear that it would hurt. That rattled my nerve futher, which was already like a highly-strung piano wire. Upon entering Bah’s room, they guided me to lie down on the bed. The Tok Kadim (profession of a person who specialises in circumcision) started checking me out. He started to shake his head, got up and spoke to Bah in a low voice. I cound'nt hear what they were discussing about. While he was discussing with Bah, those around them stole glances at me, trying to see what exactly Tok Kadim meant about predicament that I was supposed to have. In the meanwhile, I was freaking out of my mind. I tried to get up but someone held me gently down. Eventually with the nod from Bah, Tok Kadim proceeded with the task at hand. The procedure done to me took much longer time then it did my brother. Finally, Tok Kadim smiled and said I was done. The look on his face showed that he was more relieved that I was. Forgetting what the fuss was all about in the first place, I too sauntered out of the room with my new sarong fully extended out.

It was later that evening when I understood what the problem was. I overheard Bah talking to his guests about it. Not that I liked it much him discussing with strangers about my you know what… Anyway I don't have to tell more about it, right?

When all the guests had left that evening, my brother slept on a bed beside mine. In between the beds, was just enough room for a chair, where my grandma stationed herself like a sentinel. Bah had made a rig for us earlier that day. He screwed in hooks onto the ceiling above our beds. He then secured a small rope to the hook allowing the other end of the rope to dangle just above the bed. The purpose of this rig was when we lie down on our beds, we could to tie our sarongs to the small rope so that they would be hanging above our waist. The sarong would provide enough space by not touching our recovering yet sensitive body parts, but more importantly, it allowed us to retain our modesty, or what was left of it, after that day. The result looked liked two Red Indian tepees side by side, with torso and feet jutting out of them.

The one person I appreciated most during the first few nights was my grandma. She kept vigilant eye on both of us throughout the night. I must say that I was apprehensive about her being too close to me because she held on to a half coconut shell (tempurung) with her any time she was near us. I didn’t know what it was for and I eyed it with a slight trepidation as she kept beating her palm with it. Perhaps she was going through some old custom, which I wasn’t aware. My curiosity got the better of me and I asked her about it. With a twinkle in her eyes and a sweet smile, she said that it would be put to good use when the time came. Duh????

The time for the magical “tempurung” to be used eventually came early the next morning. Allow me to explain first a fact in a male’s biological make-up. It is normal that male manly part gets rigid in the wee hours of the morning. Don’t ask me why, it just does! Even I didn’t realise that fact until then. Whenever it happens during recovery from circumcision, the pain can be very excruciating and agonising because of the tenderness and the tight stitches. Hence Tok Bi’s “tempurung”. As soon as she sensed what was happening to me (didn’t take much for her to notice with my groaning loudly), she started to hit my knees continuously with it. Not gently mind you, but hard enough to hurt my knee cap. Miraculously, I felt comfortable once more. Such wisdom of the old.

It was rather funny when both my brother and I had the rising problem at the same time. Tok Bi handled the situation pretty well because sitting on her chair between our beds, she would knock my knee once and then moved her arms across her body and knocked on my brother’s knee. What it looked like to me then was like her playing the drums! Maybe she was, as it did sound like one too. She would alternate with a double knock on my knees instead of once. Tat-tat-tattat-tattat-tat-tat! Man I tell you she got rhythm! It was a wonder our kneecaps didn’t turn blue-black.

After several nights, we decided to use the “tempurung” ourselves. It was much easier that way. I imagined Tok Bi could had a mischievous streak in her bones because even after my loud groaning, I knew she pretended not to hear me, letting me bear the pain a little while before she started her “drumming” on my kneecap. Doing it ourselves was less traumatic. As usual with my brother and me, when there was only one item to share, we would fight over it (although not literally as our condition would not allow it). Eventually I found out by accident that it worked well with other than the magical “tempurung”. Seeing as my brother was already using the “tempurung” and I needed to use one too, I grabbed hold of an empty bowl lying near the bed and out of desperation and started knocking my kneecap with it. It worked! Then I wondered why the need to stick with a “tempurung”.

It was a week of walking about like zombies, taking each step slowly with our sarong fully extended, daily changes of bandages and setting up tepees at night. Bah helped to clean our wounds and changed the bandages. One day, he was busy at work and couldn’t help us. Mum volunteered but my brother and I refused saying we could do it ourselves. The reason actually was we were too shy to bare ourselves to the opposite sex, even though she was our mother. I believed mum felt slighted and upset because of that. I could still remember her saying that she had brought us up since we were babies and nothing that she had not seen that we should be shy of. Nonetheless, both of us were unwavering and insisted in doing it ourselves.

As the days passed, with some hiccups here and there we eventually recovered fully. During those times, Swee Leong was ever so helpful. He would bring us drinks or do whatever for us so that we didn’t have to move as much. I presumed he felt either guilty for running out on us or just that he was a very helpful and concerned friend. I never doubted it was the latter.

Now that we had fully recovered, something new in our lives happened. Mum gave us underwear for the first time. OK, now you know that before this, we were always in a “free & easy” mode. Well, what we got wasn’t exactly a Calvin Klein for sure, not even close to it. Mum sewed them. Not sure whether she was economising then. Our new underwear were of thin, white material with elastic band at the waist. When I held it up, I noticed that the length of one side was not the same as the other, although barely noticeable. It was more evident when you fold them. As mum sewed it, we assumed it done with love and we appreciated it…..then.

I couldn’t remember now how many pairs mum made us each, must have been not too many because if I recalled correctly, we could change only on alternate days. Because the size and colour were the same for all pairs, they became a source of contention between my brother and me. He was never particular of whose belonged to whom (remember that episode of my swimming trucks on the ocean liner – see Growing Up Part X). I, on the other hand, instinctively knew which were mine. However, it was a no win situation for me because if I saw him putting on “my” underwear and if I were to make an issue out of it, he would take it off and threw it to me and quick as lightning, put on a new pair, even before I could retrieve the one he threw. So he ended up using a clean pair while I ended up with the one that he had used. Problem was there weren’t anymore clean ones. Go figure what I did! It was either steeled myself and wore that or go free & easy for the day. The choice was simple actually…..

After time, the waistband lost it’s elasticity. There were two ways to overcome the problem. One was to tie a simple knot, as the underwear without the elastic band was broad enough to do that effectively. The other way was the fold it liked when you use a sarong normally. My brother preferred latter method. I tried it and found that it could come loose if you jump about rigorously. It can be very difficult to re-do it inconspicuously if other had not already noticed that your underwear was slipping down the sides of your trousers. I wonder how I survived so many embarrassing moments while growing up?

That was what happened to my brother :). I remembered our team were playing badminton with another team, and my brother played the first singles match. After about ten minutes into the match, I could see his underwear started to slip and hanging down the sides of his shorts. He would tug them up every opportunity he had, but I could see it was a losing battle, and especially on long rallies, he simply couldn’t cope at all :). I could hear the sniggers from the spectators.

My feelings were confused. I felt that he deserved to be embarassed after the hard times he gave me all this while, but at the same time, I felt choking on my throat feeling his embarrassment. I glared menacely at anyone that sniggered. No one should ever make fun of my brother! That’s siblings for you. We fight each other all the time, but we would fight together side by side against anyone who threatened the other’s safety, dignity or integrity. Funnily enough, throughout the match, his slipping underwear didn’t seem to bother him at all. Although I could say, he lost his battle against his underwear, but he won the hard fought match against a better player. Perhaps his opponent was too distracted. It seemed the most likely conclusion.

It was distressing that we had to wear that hand-made underwear when we knew there were proper ones sold. Noticing our underwear slipping down our legs one day, she asked why and we informed her about the non-functioning waistband. She told us not to use them anymore. We thought mum would at last buy us proper ones. It was not to be. After a couple of days of being “free & easy”, she returned us the old underwear with the elastic waistband duly replaced with new ones. So we ended up wearing them still :(…. In Malay, we have a term for this type of underwear, it’s called “seluar katok”……..

Growing Up Part IVX

I have an hour window while waiting for my flight back to Singapore at Chennai airport. I thought maybe I can write a bit more of our family in Telok Anson when I was growing up.

During end of year school holidays, our family normally went back to JB to stay with Tok Bi and my aunts. Also there, we were reunited with our youngest sister, Farid. There was not much that I recall of Farid during those years as we were normally apart most of the time. By then, Farid was already walking and running about.

The house in Ngee Heng where Tok Bi lived was small. When all of us were there it was really crowded. Some slept in that one bedroom, and the rest will have to roll out mattresses and slept on the floor. Our Aunt Siti was a stickler for cleanliness and neatness. She’ll normally get quite riled up when we overslept or woke up late as it would disrupt her routine to sweep the whole house in the morning.

Facilities in that house left much to be desired. Only one small bathroom to share by all or us. Toilet was outdoors somewhere away from the houses, as it was still using the bucket system. This had to be shared with the rest of the neighbours. Although I was quite familiar with this from the younger days at Kampung Kubor, I wasn’t really comfortable with it. Unlike in Kampung Kubor, the outdoor toilet was ours alone. Here, we had to share with the neighbours. The peak period was normally in the morning. There would always be a queue. Funnily enough, those waiting their turn were patient. So far I had never seen anyone that was desperate. Small children like Farid for instance, need not do their business there. All they had to do was simply do it at the drain outside the house, and flush it with water after that. Most of the people there reared chickens. Therefore, hens and roosters run about the area looking for food. Their favourite was always when some kid did their business and would start pecking at “it” as soon as…..

When we were there in JB, sometimes I attended to Farid when she had to do her business at the drain. My job was simply to keep the chickens away from her. Farid is a smart girl. I noticed that she could fend for herself without my help. What I remember most about her those days was that she used to run around with only her panties on. Normal actually!!!

Sometimes late at night, my aunt would want to visit the out-house. She would then make either me or my brother to accompany her. It wasn’t that I didn’t like to accompany her, except that it was really boring waiting for her. While waiting in the dark, I would be eaten alive by mosquitoes. The smell I could live with. Furthermore, it was really dark and quite far away from the house. The trees would throw creepy shadows from the moonlight. Sometimes it would creep me out that I ran back home. My aunt would get angry when she found me missing from my post. I argued that if she could come back on her own, then why would she need me to accompany her? She didn’t answer me on this, but it was Bah who explained that it was not that she was frightened of ghosts, but rather being a young lady, she could be disturbed by rowdy boys. I understood the reason and from then onwards, I was never derelict my duty.

Besides the school holidays, we always came back to JB for Aidil Fitri. As far as I can remember, Bah never failed to come back to JB for the festivities. It was always a joyous occasion for us but can be very, very tiring too. The visits we made from house to house were never ending. But again, that was the way Bah was, he never failed to visit a family member as long as he was near them.

Those journeys back and forth JB and Telok Anson usually last the whole day and sometimes an extra day. The reason for this was that Bah would stop and visit our relatives almost every town that we came across. If we couldn’t do it on the way down, we would certainly did it on our way back. From Telok Anson our first stop would normally be Kuala Lumpur. Then it would be in Melaka where mum’s relatives were or we would visit our great and grand father’s grave at Trengkara. Next up would be Muar where his sister was there. Batu Pahat would be next where mum’s brother resided. Pontian where mum’s sister family could be found.

Those long trips although tiring for us, would have been very tiring for Bah too because he was the only one who drove. The only thing that he needed was a damped cloth to wipe his face from time to time. I think that kept him awake and fresh. If you knew Bah, you would know that he was fond of passing wind. We knew when it was coming when he shifted his backside. Each time he did that mum would always scold him, but Bah would always laugh it off. We kids knew that mum didn’t really mean it, as we guess that was one of the ways they teased each other. Fizah would always laugh loudly each time Bah let go. My brother and I tried to keep her quite because her laughing only encouraged Bah more as he could keep it coming. After a while all of us would go into a fit of laughter when mum couldn’t keep up with her pretence any longer. Although the journey was tiring it was nevertheless enjoyable, except the part when I had to ask Bah to stop from time to time for me to be sick!!

My flight is boarding now, so I'll post this as soon as I get back. Hope I can find more time to tell you from my perspective of growing up with my family.

Growing Up Part XIII

My last part was written in Jakarta. Tonight I’m writing from Chennai (Madras) India. In typing this episode, sometimes I have to type with one hand because the other I have to place it on my left cheek to stop my head from shaking from side to side. Hey, it’s contagious!!!

Growing up in Telok Anson was a turning point in our family, especially my brother and I. It was here that we transformed from boys to manhood. Yes, you guess rightly that it was here that we were circumcised. But this event I will tell you in a later instalment.

My sister Fizah, like me, started to go to a school earlier in lieu of kindergarten. I did mention in my earlier story that during our time, there was no kindergarten. Normally Bah would send her and Noni to school. My brother and I at that time were already cycling to school on our own. One day, Bah couldn’t send Fizah to school. As she was in the afternoon session like me, I volunteered to send her. Of course, she had to sit on the frame of my bicycle, which was not probably very comfortable for her. The back of the bicycle was meant to carry our school bags. As we cycled along the busy roads, all was fine until I had to cross the road and turn into a perpendicular road. Seeing the opportunity to cross over, I did this as quickly as possible. Fizah didn’t like it at all and she started to shout warning me of on-coming bicycles (there were more bicycles than cars then). Of course being a good cyclist that I was, I managed to get across fine, but Fizah was fidgeting so much that the bicycle started to wobble. The next thing we knew, both of us were strewn on the roadside. Fizah was very young at time and of course started crying. I got up, picked her up and started collecting our school bags. By this time, there were a number of other cyclists that had stopped to help us. Although we were not hurt, the only thing that hurt was my pride. I was very embarrassed especially with the helpers telling me to be more careful carrying my sister. When Fizah had stopped crying, I asked her whether she wanted to go on to school on a trishaw or with me. Good thing about Fizah is that she is strong-willed. She said she wanted to go with me because it was more fun!!! It’s no wonder why men can never understand women!!!

By the time Fizah started proper schooling, Fuzi had started to grow up. She was probably 4 years old then if I can remember correctly. She was very cute and had very curly hair. You may not know this, but at that age, she could dance very well. Television was still unheard of then. So our main entertainment was still the radio. Remember that radio I was talking about during our time in JB and Melaka? It was the same one! Fuzi loved listening to the radio. If we wanted some fun, we’ll ask her to dance and she normally obliged without hesitation. I tell you that she could really dance!!! Wonder if she still does it nowadays.

Fizah had a memento from her days in Telok Anson. She had to have stitches on her forehead courtesy from yours truly. One afternoon, Fizah, Noni and I were fooling around having pillow fights. We were hitting each other with the pillows. Somehow, Fizah managed to hit me on the head from the back while I was concentrating on Noni. As soon as she hit me, she started to run out of the room. I turned around and threw the pillow I had on me at her. It flew straight and hit at the side of her head just as she reached the opened door. Then momentum of the pillow propelled her forehead to the corner of the door jamb. She fell of course and when she got up, we saw her forehead bleeding profusely. She started crying, which also got Noni going too. Knowing a bit of first-aid, I put pressure on the cut. Opposite our door was Bah’s and mum’s room. It was Bah’s power napping time.

With all the commotion, Bah’s door swung opened. I felt my heart drop knowing very well that I was going to get a beating of my life if the first face that emerged from that door was mum’s. You know, her style was to hit first and asked questions later!!! It was a temporary reprieve that Bah came out first. He went over to Fizah and asked what happened. After telling him, he went to the phone and called Dr. Sharma. He was our neighbour. After the call, he went inside to change and thereafter took Fizah to the hospital. Another temporary reprieve that I had was mum going with them.

The waiting for them to come back from the hospital was really agonizing especially for me. One was the anxiety that whether Fizah would be alright and the other was the canning I was to get from Mum when she came home. My brother didn’t help much though. He kept reminding me that I was going to get the beating of my life when mum came back. Worse still was the “smile” he had on his face when he said that. Finally, they came home. Fizah’s forehead had a plaster on it and it didn’t look so bad at all. Bah said that she was going to be fine. Dr. Sharma who was the hospital main surgeon, did very fine stitches on the cut so that a scare would not be visible. If you really look for it today, i.e. above he left eyebrow, you may be able to see a very fine scare. Ask her how she got that and I wonder whether she remembers.

As anticipated, I got my beating from mum but I think it was just a token. It was just a couple of clips to the ear telling me never to do that again. Of course I said sorry and regretted the incident but after all it was never intentional. But in my heart, I was really pleased that I didn’t get what I deserved and more importantly, Fizah was fine.

Remember I told you that Telok Anson was infested with snakes? The story behind this was that in Telok Anson, there was a large oil palm plantation. If I am not mistaken, it was the first such plantation in Malaysia as most other was rubber plantations. The storey goes that the plantation was infested with rats that ate up the young oil palm seedlings at the nursery. Eventually, the rats infested the growing trees too. Most of the workers there came directly from India who was experienced. The plantation was owned by a British conglomerate called Janrata Estate. A very initiative India worker went up to the English estate manager and suggested that he had a way to get rid of the rats. His solution was to bring in cobras from India, set them free in the plantation and the rat manifestation will be gone. I am sure that was what exactly happened. Unfortunately, that Indian worker didn’t tell his manager the whole picture which was that to get rid of the rats, the snakes had to multiply significantly. And so they did. Gone were the rats and now we had cobras instead. But I guess the Indians are more comfortable with cobras then rats anyway.

The compound of our house was large and covered with grass. I told you earlier that we never ventured more that 3 paces from the edge of our drive way fearing the dreaded cobras. Once a month, the gardener from Bah’s college would come to cut the grass with his motorised mowing machine. We loved to watch him do it because one, he had no fear of the snakes. But what we were actually waiting for was for him to bring over to us snakes that were cut up that didn’t escape his mowing machine in time. After the grasses were cut, he would start to rake the cut grasses and pile them up. Sometimes, when doing this, a couple of live cobras were found. He would chase them and hit them dead with his rake. The best was yet to come. After piling up the cut grasses, Bah would set them on fire. I don’t how he managed that when the grasses were still green. There was always more smoke than fire. But he said it would also drive away the mosquitoes. After got the fire going, what we used to do was to throw the dead snakes into it. Then we would stand back a bit and waited for the popping sound of the snake exploding when it burnt. Gross thinking of it now, but then again, we were young and growing up. Fun was fun which ever way we found them.

One afternoon, Bah came home with a male goose. He said geese are better than watch dogs because they make loud noises when strangers or animals come near the house. It is also believed that geese shits keep away snakes as they are adverse to them. Well everything that Bah said about the goose was right. It didn’t only make noises when strangers came over, it would do the same for us too. It was not really that friendly to us too. At times it would chase us away and pecked at our ankles. And the shit smelled. Bah told us not to wash them away because they were supposed to keep away the cobras from coming in. After some time, the goose become acustomed to my brother and I and it didn’t chase us anymore. It loved Bah’s car best. Each time when Bah came back, it would waddle quickly to the car. Bah didn’t like that much because sometimes it pecked at the car. I think being a male goose, it may have wanted a companion. The car provided a reflection of the goose and that was why it sometimes pecked at the car. Of course the car was scratched or slightly dented when it did that. Bah didn’t like that at all.

After some time, the goose was becoming to a pain in the neck for our family. It made too much noise especially at night, it really shitted a lot and Bah’s car suffered too. But I think Bah was too proud to say that it was a mistake to have the goose, and so we tolerated it. For some reason or another, the goose worse enemy was Fuzi. As soon as it saw Fuzi, he will start chasing her. It was fun for us to see Fuzi screaming and running away from the goose. Most of the time she managed to out run it until one day. We were about to go out for a drive one afternoon. Fuzi was excited and she dashed out to the garage where the car was parked. Unseen by her, our goose was on the other side of the car looking at its own reflection as usual. Sensing Fuzi was on the other side, it caught her unaware. Fuzi was trapped and she could run away because the car being too close to the front wall, blocked her only exit. The only other escape route for her was to go around the goose as quickly as she could. I think that was exactly what she did, but unfortunately, she fell. The goose climbed on top of her. Fuzi was smart enough to keep her face down on the floor and covered the back of her head with her hands. It was here screaming as well as the loud cackling of the goose that alerted us that she was in trouble. Bah was the first to reach them. What we saw was that the goose was pecking furiously at Fuzi head and back and all the while standing on top of her back. Bah caught hold of the goose by the neck and flung it away from Fuzi. The goose fell on its feet and came running back to Fuzi. My brother and I blocked its path, and I caught hold of a broom, gave it a couple of thumps and chased it away.

It was a traumatic experience for Fuzi. It also broke the camel’s back as Bah was concerned. He decided there and then to get rid of the goose. But being practical, he asked mum whether she wanted to cook it. We all shouted a definite no! The next day, Bah gave it away to one of villagers near our house. That was the last we saw or heard of the goose that terrorised our family in one way or another.

Growing Up Part XII

I must apologise to you guys for not keeping up with my stories. Just noticed when going through my blog that I do have a number of anonymous readers. My sister, Farid and aunt Siti visited me a couple of days ago just before my I had to fly off to Jakarta. She didn’t know my blog existed and when Alann (my son) showed it to her, she was laughing her head off.
She asked questions of the time before she was born that in a way made me feel quite sad that we didn’t talk about it when we were kids. Anyway, again I’m writing this in a foreign city, Jakarta in the middle of the night. This part of the story is dedicated to my sis, Farid, as this was the time when she stepped in this world and made it a better place to live for us all.
So our family had settled in Telok Anson as it was called then. Now it’s called Teluk Intan. If you would remember that my mum was expecting Fuzi before we left for the UK. What I forgot to mention earlier, that she was expecting Farid before we went back home. So I had always teased my two sisters that one was made in Malaya, born in UK while the other was made in the UK, born in a new country called Malaysia. Remembering the two of them, Fuzi when she grew up starting speaking with a slang e.g. instead of say ikan (fish for Malay, pronounced as “ee-kan”) she always ended it with a “g” so it became “ikang”. We thought it was cute then that she spoke Malay in an English accent. Later, when we had moved around Malaysia more, only then that we realised, she spoke more like one from Kelantan or Trengganu!!! These are north eastern states of Malaysia where the accent of spoken Malay differs significantly to those from other states, like Scottish speaking English for example, not easy to understand, especially those from Glasgow.
Not long after being in Telok Anson, Mum went back to JB to give birth to Farid. Farid then stayed behind with my grandma Tok Bi and Aunt Siti. She stayed and grew up with them until we came back to JB after 4 years. So Farid, in reading, there isn’t much I can say during that time about you, except during the few occasions when the family came back for holidays to JB.
Life in Telok Intan was laid-back. Bah went to the college in the morning, came home for lunch, did his power nap and off to the office again for a couple of hours. As my school then was in the morning session, he would take me along to the college. There I had to practice my piano which was located on the stage in college hall. Of course in the afternoon there were no students, so I was free to practice without embarrassing myself. Violin lessons were at night, when Bah would send my brother and me to my music teacher’s house.
At the fringe of our house, there lived a lady who taught reading the Quran. She came almost daily in the afternoon for my brother and I to learn to read the Quran. Learning to read the Quran was difficult at first, but it got better after time. But till today, I still could not imagine how she could read the Quran from the opposite side. We would sit on the floor with the Quran facing us whilst she sat opposite us. She could spot our mistakes and explained the alphabets and how it should be read. All this done with the Quran facing opposite her. Amazing.
She was a lovely and gentle lady. Best part was that she had a son of our age. Naturally, we became very good friends and he was at our house practically every day. He was one of our best friends when we were in Telok Intan. The other was a Chinese boy who was my brother’s classmate. Let me tell a bit about him.
He came from a large family staying in a very small house. One day, my brother invited him to the house where they studied, ate and even slept over for the night. The funny thing was that he didn’t leave after that. He started bringing bit by bit his clothing, his books etc. Finally, he was a permanent fixture of our family there. He made himself useful though by helping to water the plants, a chore which I hated most. Mum and Bah were into plants especially orchids and it would take me at least an hour to water the plants around the house.
Bah made a badminton court in front of the house, and this was the game that the four of us would play daily after our chores. Of course my brother was the best between the four of us, followed by his classmate, then me and then Shamsul. Name of my brother’s friend? It was Saw Swee Leong. At one time he was Malaysia’s top badminton player. Just to let you know that once in a while I had beaten him!!!!
I am sure that you guys know (and I believe practice too) that our family likes to power nap in the afternoon. This was true of my brother and me too. One day while we were napping, our Quran teacher came. Mum would call from the living room announcing her arrival, which she actually meant for us to get up, get reading and start the lesson, or else!
What happened was that my brother turned over to me and told me to start my lesson first. This would mean that he would have an extra 20 minutes of napping while I had to get up. So, I told him no and that he should start first instead. The next thing I knew he was on top of me and we actually started brawling. Nothing new actually between us siblings, but our Quran teacher saw this and came over trying to stop us. She failed miserably not knowing what to do as we kept rolling on top of each other trying to gain the advantage. I stole a glance at her and saw her genuine anguish, but that didn’t stop us. What stopped us was Mum who came into the room with a cane and started lashing out at both of us. That was the time that I tried to be under my brother rather than to be on top so that he could bear the full force of Mum’s fury. So as quickly as we started our brawl, we stopped, did our cleansing, wore our sarong and songkok, took our Quran and sat down waiting for the Quran teacher as if nothing untoward had happened. I was very sure that our Quran teacher was absolutely puzzled with us and as she sat down I could see her shaking still. I looked at my brother and he gave a knowing smile.
The routine of Bah sending us to school was broken when one of us had to start school in the afternoon session. Telok Intan was a small town where almost everyone got around on a bicycle. My brother asked for one and Bah bought one for him. The whole family went to the shop selling bicycles. He chose one and the vendor prepared the bicycle for him. When all was done and paid for, Bah told my brother to ride it home. So he got on the bike and headed for home. The funny part was that all of us in the car followed behind him. Can you imagine the numerous blasts of horns from impatient drivers behind our car? Of course Bah was oblivious to all that and he just kept driving behind my brother who in fact cycled quite well and perhaps didn’t realise until we were near home that we were behind him all that time.
That one bicycle became a source for further brawls between us. Bah said we should share, but knowing my brother, what was his remained his! It was not that long later that Bah bought another one. I think he was quite fed-up being the arbitrator all the time. When we got a bike each, it was a time of much enjoyment. The four of us (Shamsul & Swee Leong always had theirs) would cycle to school, to the sports field and to the cinema together practically to almost anywhere we decided to venture too.
One night the four of us watched an evening show at the local cinema. On our way back, we decided to cycle through a less lighted road. The reason for this was that Swee Leong and Shamsul’s bike didn’t have lights. Cycling at night without lights was and still is an offence. So we thought that by taking a less lighted route we could escape being caught by the police. Not knowing any better, unfortunately, that was exactly where the police usually prey the law-breakers. When we saw the policeman, who at that time had already stopped a couple of offenders, it was too late for us to turn back to make our get-away. Shamsul and Swee Leong were stopped by the policeman. Although my brother’s and my bike had lights for some strange reason he stopped the both of us too. Shamsul started crying, he was the wimp amongst the four of us. Swee Leong kept a straight face and I suspected that he had gone through this a number of times before. The policeman threatened to bring us to the Police Station after shouting at us how we broke the law. On hearing this, I said to the policeman that if he wanted to bring us to the station, it was fine, provided I can inform my dad first. He asked who my dad was and I told him. It was then that he told us to wait while he took care of the other two offenders which he had stopped earlier. Then he came back to us and told us to get the lights fixed later and asked us to go straight home. But before we started, he came over again and asked us to give his regards to my dad. That was Bah for you, he made so many friends easily in such a short time, and it didn't matter if they were the Chief Police Officer of the District (who happened to be our good neighbour) or ordinary policemen.
I will have to tell you more of our time in Telok Intan as we stayed there a good long four years. I think that was the longest place that we stayed at one place.