LIve, Die, Then What?...Hidup, Wafat, Lantas Apa?...Live Again?

 

Selamat siang, hari ini saya akan menyinggung sedikit tentang pertanyaan hidup dan mati. Ini corat-caretan doang. Kini saya usah berusia kisaran jang bisa disebut lansia atau orang tua. Saya dalam ketakutan karena kondisi kesehatan saya mengancam dan menurut dokter ahli jantung saya, saya mengidap penyakit "aortic dissection" and juga "abdominal aortic aneurysm". Kedua-dua penyakit ini bisa dianggap penyakit jang sirius dan peluang saya untuk terus hidup amatlah tipis. Siapa diantara kita tidak ketakutan kapan menghadapi berita buruk seperti ini lho. Saya takut, takut dan sangat takut tentang ajal yang menunggu saya. Saya dilahirkan di Kota Malang, Jawa Timur dan sudah lama sangat saya tidak menjengok kampung halaman saya yang tercinta. Adakah ini jamak buat orang-orang jaman moderen ini. Saya rasa tidak...........Mencari nafkah dan rezeki sudah memulaukan saya dari akar hidup saya sejati. Kini permisis saya menceriterakan sedikit sebanyak perasaan dan emosi yang begitu kian memendam dalam hati sanubari saya.

Kondisi saya sekarang sekian lama semakin depresi. Tapi saya tetap tidak mau menemu Sp.Kj. karena luka saya amat mendalam. Kini biar saya bergeser kedalam bahasa inggris untuk melanjutkan ngomong saya.

 It has been a sixty-eight years of life in this world. Yet I wonder whether I have achieved anything of substance. And the resounding response that come back to my ears is NO. Have I then caused misery to others, and the answer that reaches my ears is YES. It has been good in some parts but by and large it has been a miserable life for me. The thing is generally I do not like people, nor am I interested in what they do or think.  Be it my pastor, my family, my friends (if I can think of any) or for that matter Kublai Khan himself. No I am not narcissistic either. In fact I have a very poor opinion of myself. Children for example strike me as a noisy and selfish lot. I was told when I was a kid, I had the character of Saint Michael. 

Tatkala saya duduk dipinggir meja bundar saya ini, terkilas balik saya rekan-rekan, rekan-sesekolah saya, famili saya, guru-guru dan dosen-dosen saya di sekolah dan universitas. Kebanyakan dari mereka sudah tutup usia. Ada yang wafat karena penyakit dan sebagian juga dari korban tewas kehendak Illahi dan juga ada yang meninggal karena sudah mencapai usia yang lanjut. Yang wafat alami saya rasa merekalah jang paling hoki (mujur, beruntung). Di negara saya kewafatan alami satu kurniaan dari Yang Maha Esa karena kita warga dan bangsa Indonesia sudah mewarisi bumi yang begitu mengganas dan mengancam. Rasain sedih kapan saya memikir kembali mereka yang sudah pulang kerahmatullah. Saya memikir kilas balik tatkala saya mengusahakan pabrik suku cadang buat pesawat kedirdantaraan. Bisa dikatakan saya ini pengolah dan penyalur suku cadang terkait untuk pesawat dari Amerika, Uni Soviet, Republik Rakyat Tiongkok (RRT), Jepang dan India. Itulah riwayat saya 40 tahun yang silam. Kini saya sudah mengundur diri dan lantas memangkir dari semua tanggungjawab terkait perusahaan saya. Beban tugasan saya kini bergeser kepada  warisan-warisan saya dan mereka jang megelola segala urusan dan hal-hal jang terkait. Mereka setidaknya anak bawang dan harapan saya agar mereka bisa melonjakkan status perusahaan saya ke suatu klasemen yang lebih berprestasi. Buat saya mencukupilah klasemen saya jeblok ke tahap nara biasa saja. 

Jang penting buat saya bukannya yang bermateri tapi jang berohaniah, perihal kehendak Pencipta Al-Masih Yesus Kristus. Selama ini saya sungguh-sungguh berhajat naik sholat ke lahan Baitulqaddis atau Yerusalem tapi hoki saya masih belum ada atau tiba. Menetes air mata gue kapan terlintas dulu angkara-angkara yang pernah saya lakukan. Kini pada usia yang bisa dikatakan sudah hampir sampai liang lahat di sentiong jang menunggu ketibaan gue, waktu saya sudah terlalu mepet and saya pada detik-detik akhir ini cuma mau melasankan kewajipan saya sebagai kurniaan Illahi Yang Maha Esa. Amin raab al-Alamin.

Disusuli Bab 2 Coratan Gw:-

Sesudah santap malam baru sebentar tadi, saya amat bersyukur kepada Yang Illahi Esa karena menyediakan sesuap nasi untuk gue dan keluarga gue. Setinggi-tinggi junjung kepada Illahi Esa saya melimpahkan. Beliau murah hati menjaga kebaikan dan keselamatan hidup saya dan famili saya. Gue kagak terkata apa-apa terhadap Nya yang begitu murah hati kepada seorang nara  yang berdosa. Tapi saya sudah berjanjiakan bertobat dan menjauhi dari segala perkara dan selingkuh yang memalukan. kendatipun saya tua dongkol atau ngambek, saya engga lupa akan janji saya nih.

Coratan Ketiga:

Hari ini merupakan hari Natal dan besok kita yang beragama nasrani akan meraikan kelahiran Yesus Kristus, Pencipta Alam Semesta, Raja kepada yang kesat mata dan yang enggak kesat mata, Raja kepada Yang di Atas dan juga Yang dibawah dan Raja Segala-galanya. Ini kesaksian saya kepada dunia yang masih belum ketahuinya. Sekarang saya digolongkan dalam kalangan sepuh dan juga sesepuhan. Saya melaksanakan tanggungjawab saya kini sebagai kasepuhan kepada keluarga saya dan rekan-rekan yang masih mentah dan belum matang. Ini kesaksian saya kepada dunia.

Coratan Keempat

Waktu Natal sudah hampir tamat tinggal lagi tiga jam. Teman-teman saya di Amerika Serikat akan mulai meraikan Hari Mulia ini tidak lama lagi. Teman saya bernama Sara Cornelius di Utah ngomong dengan saya kemaren bahwa dia sedang menanti ketibaan natal dengan hati yang berdetak-detak kuat macam gendang di palu. Kita dari keberagaman bangsa yang amat luas. Inilah satu tanda bukti bahwa segala-galanya bisa mungkin dengan Illahi Esa kita. Saya rasa sedih karena kesehatan saya tidak seperti yang dulu. Saya risau tidak dapat melihat dan berbagi hidup saya dengan cucu-cucu saya yang sedang membesar. Apakah kan daya, ini semuanya kehendak Illahi Esa kita. Namun demikian saya tetap sedih dan tidak dapat menghindari dari perasaan sesal karena usia saya tidak akan menjangkau waktu yang panjang. Kini sudah Haples satu, besok akan haples dua dan seterusnya. 

Permisi saya bergeser ke bahasa inggris untuk meneruskan ngomongan ini. 

When I think back on my life and the many friends that I have lost (all through my own fault alone and no one else's), I am sad and equally fearful that i do not stand a ghost of a chance to be with my Lord Jesus when I exit this world. So much i want to be with Him but I know the sins and dirt that I carry in my heart will not qualify me for that privileged position. I am sad also that i will not get to see my two young grandsons growning up, going to school, graduating from college and getting married......and to be able to carry my great grandchild in my arms. Already I feel the life force ebbing from my body, and I have to catch my breath every now and then. I am only 67, not 87. You see the irony.It is now past 11 pm on Christmas night. It was like any other ordinary day. There were no presents and parties, no guests, simply because we did not have the money.It has been like this for many years. I cry my heart out for my grandsons. What will become of them. I pray and I beg as a sinful mortal and earthly father would, that my Heavenly Father would see to it that my progeny and their progeny are amply provided for. This is is hope and fervent prayer. Amin.

I know and very well aware of what social influencers in various forms and texture want and need. They want views, they want likes and they want to be noticed and heard. What does all this translate to, yes, the age old, ancient and time-proven booty of cash. The more people take notice of you the more opportunities will come your way to increase your bank balance. You may think me and rightfully so, stupid, when I say to you I have been there.........and it is an lonely and empty, meaningless life. Jesus used the analogy of the eye of a needle, nothing could be truer than that simple analogy. Money wont make you think of your Creator, not in the way that you should think anyway. You think of your Creator as your benefactor or money-churning engine. Does any religion ask you to accumulate worldly goods, the sad reality is, there are religions who ask you to build up your knowledge and worldly possessions. I would not name them, I think you guys are smart to identify who these groups of people are. What profiteth a man, if his backside is taken away by the devil...well some humor wont hurt anyway isn't it? But 99.99999..............of the world is like that. 

 

 

The people I once knew-Mr. Mokhtar Dahari a True Human Being

 

During the sixties, specifically from 1960 to 1965, I was ensconced at the Pasar Road English School (1) in Pasar Road. There was a Malay school across the road but I have forgotten its name. The structure then was not as impressive as the building now captured in the video above. Obviously this was quite a recent take of the school. They say old schools never die, they just fade away. But for me this school after six decades still remain firmly implanted in my mind. It was here that I began my journey into literacy. I cannot remember much of those halcyon days but I remember it was a happy time indeed. Many of my classmates then are still around today but their status have changed since those early years. Many are now pillars of society. There is no bigger joy than to recognize and greet a fellow classmate from those days. It is like winning the first prize in a lottery......much much more than that I should say. Sadly a few have passed on before their time, due to sickness. But they are now in heaven with the Creator, of that I am certain. Tears well up in my eyes when I think back to those fresh yound innocent faces, lining up outside the corridor waiting to enter the  classrooms. I am not a learned man but I can feel the pride and joy of being taught by those wonderful and dedicated team of teachers we had back then. No one in particular but without a doubt, all Malay, Indian and Chinese teachers worked hand in hand to educate us in the finer things of life that is knowledge. 

Pasar Road school was situated in Pasar road, eponymously named if you must. The people who stayed there were called Pasarians. Yeap, to be a Pasarian was an honor bestowed on those who lived in the area. The residential part of it comrpised those working in the civil service while the commercial center was 100% Chinese merchants. There wasn't any trouble between the two groups, in fact they complemented each other. Religious faiths was evenly distributed and hence there was always something to celebrate. The different races were in harmony with each other and often celebrated each other's festival. No government officer was around to tell them to get along with each other, they just did it naturally. I was staying at No.17, Djalan Selatan, Imbi and in front of my house was the famous Imbi road drain. I spent many a happy moment catching fish in the historic big drain. In the nights around 9pm I would sit beside the front window of my room and conduct a tete-a-tete with Tamil Michael, my other half who was my neighbor and whose dad worked in the government printers in Djalan Tjan Sow Lien.I came to know he has migrated to Germany and is married to a German doctor. Tamil Michael was a devout Catholic and he went to church without fail every Sunday. He was a member of the congregation at St. Anthony's church near the Selangor Chinese Recreation Club. T Michael dreamnt about being a priest and he did enter a seminary in Singapore after his MCE but he was kicked out after his eigth year as he was deemed unfit to be a priest. The course was extremely strict and difficult and not many made the grade. His dad, Uncle Arulnasamy or Uncle Arul as we affectionately called him was a genial gentleman who had a fondness for nira cola aka tuak aka toddy, the strong sweet brew that many Malaysians loved so much. After work, every day uncle Arul would head for the toddy stall near the big drain and there drown his sorrows together with his cronies. He would be there drinking from 6pm to 10pm and then head back home singing and whistling popular Tamil songs. He was all kindness and gentleness in such a condition smiling and wishing everyone a pleasant night. A sad thing befell Tamil Michael after his MCE exams, he was stricken with the disease of albino. Before T Michael left Malaysian shores headed for germany, he was completely white from head to toe. Me Tjina Michael and he Tamil Michael made a formidable duo during the sixties in the Imbi area. Many jambu and chicken thefts were attributed to the both of us. We were even credited with the ability to become orang halus or the invisible men. We were average students, not much good at anything except for a big mouth and big dreams. Coincidentally we looked almost alike, we both had squarish heads and short curly hair. And we both loved nasi uduk or called nasi lemak in Malaysia. In the summer of 1968, T Michael and C Michael entered a church in Djalan Peel and we swore to be blood brothers in a quiet solemn ceremony beside the rupang (image) of our Mother Lourdes. I remember coming back after that feeling high and elated that now I had a blood brother. T Michael had a younger sister called Apam, yeap Apam....and she was a looker. Apam Arulnasamy went to the Convent Peel Road school and scored 8A 1s and she went to study medicine at the University of Malaya. After she qualified as a doctor she joined the Indian army as a captain and that was the last we heard of her. Her family does not mention her name anymore and I suspect she was killed in one of the many wars India either fought against pakistan or the peoples republic of China. I am not sure whether Miss Apam ever married or had progeny as a result of it. When I think back of her I wonder what made her go to India...was it pressure of fashionable for Indian girls to go back to Mother india or Sangam as the Indians call it. When I was nine years old in Djalan Imbi, Communist China fought a war against India and I remember vividly T Michael's family selling their earrings, bangles and gold bracelets and donated it to the Indian government via the Indian embassy in Kuala Lumpur. Such misplaced patriotism for the whole family were Malaysians, all born in malaya then. I fail to understand people to this day. My dad was a great friend of uncle Arul and the both of them would trade stories in the night at their front doors which faced each other. T Michael's mom was the second wife of uncle Arul and I understood uncle Arul's first wife ran off with a tikam batu man. T Michael took after his father in looks and temperament. Both of them were jolly kaki and very jovial characters. Tamil Michael loved the arts and after his LCE he quickly enrolled in the arts stream. If I had a wish, it is this, I wish to see Tamil Michael again and touch base with him about old times. 

The neighbor to the left of my house was a Syed Ali. Syed Ali's dad was of Arab descent and his mom was Chinese. He was a genial character and he loved "char siu" or Chinese red meant made from roasted pork. He loved to say to us kids younger than him, he had no problem to bantai "Chi yoke" or pork in any form. He used to tell us he was a friend of pigs and pigs loved him. I used to wonder if his parents knew what he was up to. His elder sister was a Kirby trained teacher and she was there two years and came back to Malaysia after her training in the UK.There were only three of them, Syed Ali had an elder brother who was a sort of a mysterious character. The elder brother smoked Roughrider cigarettes very popular brand during those days. Syed Ali often came to my house when he was free and he was free a lot. I never heard him discuss anything about his school work. In front of my house was a cherry tree and Syed Ali would often sit on the trunk of the tree and gazed longingly at the big drain. SA could speak cantonese and he would often try to speak to me in cantonese. Problem is I did not understand a word of cantonese. Syed Ali, Tamil Michael and I were a threesome and we often walked and prowled the neighborhood together looking out for jambu batu trees. SA also studied at pasar road english school and as to his grades I never had an idea. We used to call SA gajah affectionately as he was a tall and stout person. he loved jeans and would always sport a pair of jeans when he was with us. SA 's sister spoke very fluent English and being a teacher she knew how to get along with kids like us. She married another teacher who happened to be her colleague teaching at the same school i.e the Princess Road School in Princess road now known as Djalan Raja Muda. I remember that night very well, the house was lit like a fairyland and the Prime Minister of malaysia, His Highness Tunku Abdul Rahman alighted from his car at the intersection with Circular road and walked all the way along the drain to SA's house for the happy occasion. There was a Malay orchestra who played entertaining Malay music and it was a joy to listen to music like Si Jali Jali and Semerah padi. I was at the feast and remembered gorging on 60 sticks of the sate a Malay delicacy. Sate was smoked meat usually of chicken and beef. I washed the stuff down with a red F & N drink I forget the name. That night I suffered from bad dreams about being chased by sate sticks. Syed Ali's mom and dad were proud and happy parents who gladly gave away their daughter's hand in marriage to a young dashing teacher who taught English at the school. Actually both were English teachers. After the marriage the happy couple stayed with SA's parents at the Imbi house. All the Imbi road houses had been renovated and almost all had extensions including the house I stayed in.The house was big enough for 10 persons and they were very spacious. Very few houses had cars, cars were then perceived as luxuries and not necessities. My parents were fond of Syed Ali whom they treated like a son. SA was two years my senior. SA's dada was a tall burly man with a head like a big rugby ball. He was completely bald. He had a strong physique and according to SA, he could down 3 plates of nasi uduk in one sitting hands down. During those days there were no mamak stalls around and people who wanted teh had to visit Chinese coffee shops. Nights in Imbi road during those days were a quiet affair. Eevryone went to bed early. There was no entertainment around. And the favorite form of relaxation was the sturdy radio.

Syamsuddin or Din as we affectionately called him lived a few doors away from us. He was also a student of Pasar Road English School (1). His English wasn't very good but it was not a problem as we spoke Malay when we were together. Din was a jovial person and easy to get along. In later years he became the first choice goalkeeper for Cochcrane Road Secondary School. He had a funny way of laughing, giggling like a school girl but it was not unpleasant and we got on very well. Sometimes the mother would cook nasi padang and would tell Din to invite us and partake of a nasi padang meal. As I said we never used English as a medium of communication and we spoke colloquial Malay whenever we were together. Din knew a bit of Tamil and sometimes he would tease Tamil Michael in Tamil. Since we were all of almost the same age, we shared similar interests. Our interests were watching western coboy movies and football which was our favorite game. When it was dark, we would often gather at the doorstep of my house and chatter away the time. Our curfew time was 9pm and before 9pm we would break up and go to bed. We were all studying in morning school and oftentimes we would wind up waiting at the bus stand waiting for the same bus to take us to school. The famous Imbi road bus stand was just alongside the famous big drain. Many years have passed since those years in history and I am grateful for sharing a piece of my life with those stalwart friends of my childhood. 

Spider catching was very popular those days. And my friends and I would spend hours crouching near bushes and any place which has flowers and leaves to try and catch us some spiders. I have forgotten most of how we caught those spiders but I remember we were crazy about catching spiders. 

I remember Mr. Mokhtar Dahari very well. He was staying in Kampong Pandan, KL when he was studying at VI. A soft-spoken person, he was a very pleasant personality. He had a crew-cut when he was in VI and kept it till his last day at school. He was not well known as a footballer then, he was more into athletics as a sprinter because of his powerful thighs which packed a 2hp engine in them. He was the darling of sports masters until a small unkown teacher teaching geography in Form 6 had the foresight in noticing Mokhtar's tremendous potential in football. He made a suggestion to the headmaster Mr. Mureugesu to include him for football. After getting permission to get Mokhtar the switch, the teacher contacted Datuk Mazlan the manager for the Selangor team to take a look at him and after the "look" there was no turning back for Mokhtar in the field of football. Riches and fame did not affect Mokhtar, if it had Mokhtar would have easily been accepted by any first division team in the English Premier League and became a very rich man. Mr. Mokhtar Dahari I repeat was not such a man. He was contented to play for the Malaysian team until his unfortunate passing.

MR. MOKHTAR DAHARI I SALUTE AS A TRUE PATRIOT AND HUMAN BEING.

The Malaysia vs Indonesia Dilemma.......BIG BUSINESS vs nemo.....& Blak Blakan

 

Above a blow-by-blow schema showing Indonesia versus Malaysia paradigm. So far after decades of independence, both countries have shown no signs of a let-up in this blow by blow encounter. In fact the rivalry has picked up the tempo and most often animosity of this rivalry is displayed in sports i.e. most prominently in badminton and football. It has even spread to the humble maids who had left Indonesian shores to seek a better living in Malaysia as maids to residents comprised mostly of Malaysians. UNFORTUNATELY, some have resulted in deaths..... STIGMA that must be borne by the host country.  

Ajang ngelenong nyok yang diadakan baru-baru ini. Lucu hati dan meggelitik seluruh raga kita. I have never seen a show like this in Malaysia. Well hopefully my situation will not be a protracted one and soon I shall reestablish communications with my roots. BTW ngelenong is a traditional Betawi (Djakarta) music form which incorporates the gambang kromong and also the rhythm of Chinese music. I believe such entertainment is nowhere to be found in Malaysian cultural roots. 

The perpetual rivalry between Malaysia and Indonesia is unhealthy and does not bode well for neighbourliness and good manners. I mean the language you come across in a simple game of badminton for example is definitely a no-no. I wonder if this rivalry will ever end. 

There are about 2 million Indonesians in Malaysia whether working legally or otherwise. With such massive numbers, it is literally impossible to monitor or track the movements of every Indonesian. It is better for the people to come to a compromise with the "pendatang" and work out a win-win relationship. As the saying goes if you can't win them, then join them.

Indonesia is an archipelago defined as a large body of water consisting of many islands while Malaysia is a peninsula i.e. a land mass protruding from a larger body of land into the sea. Indonesia has more or less 18,000 islands many of which are inhospitable. From this aspect, it would appear that Indonesia outsizes Malaysia many times over in terms of sheer strength of population and land mass. There are more than 800 tribes in the archipelago and over 450 different dialects spoken by its people. The sheer weight of succeeding in unifying such a diverse population demographics into one national identifiable race is a reflection of the strength and character of its founding fathers."Bhinekka Tunggal Eka" or "All different but one" is truly one sentence to describe the amalgamation and integration of various tribes into a singular race. Kudos to the founding fathers in what they achieved over such a short span of time. I often wonder if they had any misgivings in the adventure they undertook.

Today is 05 December, 2020 is one of the worst days of my life. Depression relapse. No drugs means, depression control mind and body. No mind and no body means almost gilak or gokil maybe even dongkol. Then big problem, feel kayak want to tutup usia. Depression is not something to laugh about, depresi can kill...remember ellipsis after the word k***. I have long wanted to write about depresi but malu-malu kucing lah. Hope no mangkuk merah will happen.

Yesterday or last night to be precise, sleep could not be attained. Rolled from left to right and back to left again. Perhaps the end is getting close. Who knows? But so many things have yet to come to pass. The time for leaving is not now. The house is like a factory manufacturing sound at 1000db. The crescendo never drops.

Coming back to rivalry. It is to be found everywhere, even in the "jamban" or "kakus" or simply in English the 'LOO' or 'TOILEY' the place where you pay the body's income tax after having, 'chiak', 'makan', 'soru' or 'bantai' a few good or not so good meals a day, depending of course on the size of your wallet or 'kantong'. Remember do not bring too big a kantong or Mr.POLISMAN eyes will membelalak or terbeliak, whichever is relevant. You guys think I am joking or main sandiwara when I say this, but man b/careful, many conman are all too willing to lighten the 'load' you carry in your kantong (kocek). Aiyo, aiyo, kadi valeh, kadi valeh (according to my Malaysian Indian friends". Unfortunately or fortunately Indonesia does not have many Indians around.  Many many years ago, I regret having not made more Indian friends, they are a delightful lot, very relaxed and they take things and life in general very philosofically. They are a joy to be with. It is very unfortunate that the government does not take enough pride in its citizens of Indian ancestry or for that matter Indian culture, which is one of the oldest in the world. Ok, ok, look here guys, my wife is not Indian ok. I am just trying to be fair to everyone. In the United States of America, some of the best minds in IT and medicine are Indians. And many top CEO's of top multi-national corporations are Indians. So you better put on your thinking caps fast and do some fast thinking before you open your fat mouths and start criticizing people. The one thing I hate is other people talking down about other people just because they are different, like Mr. Trump the Chump (who has now fallen into the dump).....serves him right. That fello sure has fallen from grace. He must be very sad that he is no longer top monkey or monyet (not dog). Well as they say, "Pride goes before a downfall". 

Try try and try not to put anyone down........regardless of who you are...nothing is for certain in this world...

Now coming to the second part of the narrative also where the bonteng (or timun) fights with the durian or liu lian (ala Chinese style).

This world aint fair because of one simple reason only, "Nature has never been fair" and "Shall never ever be fair". That is a fact of life. If it were fair, we would have no need of moolah (money). Rich dad poor dad simply means, rich dad kicks poor dad in the teeth simply because poor dad is...well er.....well...er....poor! Damn it very had to say it! Just ask a go ask a pelanduk to fight a black mamba, who do you think will win? Or go ask a kulum-kulum to face a gajah. Now why do I use the word big business as the title for my narrative. It is because big business stinks...the bigger the business the more it stinks, like a rottening, wasting piece of stale meat waiting for the hering or burung nasar to gulp it down. BTW if you do not know the words I am using, go find yourself a good online translator and start punching it. I am no teacher! There are some creatures in this world who are good in talking what I call sideways, avoiding all the teeth or false teeth whichever is relevant. They are so good at it, they end up as big businessmen or famous politicians or even great philosophers. Goodness me looks like we got no hope man. Man we are done for. 

I want to share with you this today, "If I had been able to see a little further today, it is because I have been standing on the shoulders of giants". Today, I wish to say a big thank you to those giants.

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