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Urut-urutan video diatas disematkan khas untuk pemirsa-pemirsa- diseantero Nusantara.

Video kedua diatas menunjukkan kisaran Kota Pontianak, tempat lahir kuliner kondang Nex Carlos. The crux of the trip is called tebengan or boncengan i.e to hitch a ride in a vehicle without paying for it called hitchhiking in English. The landscape in West Kalimantan is very much similar to that in Malaysia. The trip starts from Pontianak the largest city in West Kalimantan. It reminds me very much of a trip I took by car about 35 years ago up north to Kedah in Peninsula Malaysia. Malaysia and Indonesia share very similar tropical greenery and mountain landscapes. 

Now I begin my narrative in English. Today has been a wet and cold morning. Entertaining myself with watching old videos from Youtube. Quite a boring pastime actually. Honestly Youtube doesn't have that great a collection of videos. But we just have to make do with what we have I guess. I wonder during my parents' or great grandparents' day, what did they do as a pastime. There wasn't any TV let alone computers to wiggle our fingers.

I think back about the trips I have taken along the west coast of Peninsula Malaysia when I was much younger. As long as I do not open my mouth I am safe. In short never engage in small talk only talk that is very necessary. This is commonly called self-preservation.

Has Kuala Lumpur changed?

 

Many years ago during the sixties and early seventies, Kuala Lumpur was an icon of peace and tranquility. It was so tranquil, you could literally hear its denizens talking in the house even during the height of the day. Coconut trees and pinang tress dotted the landscape of KL and houses did not need to invest in potted plants for their gardens for the gardens naturally compose part of the natural fauna and flora of the land. The place I was staying, Djalan Selatan, Imbi Road, was a haven of greenery. The small enclave nested in a quiet corner of the city and was a place where sportsmen of all shapes and sizes converged in the evenings to test their mettle in their chosen fields. It gave birth to footballers like Zakaria Sharif, a natural and talented maestro of the ball who gave many kids like us a free viewing of his skills every evening at the Postal Club grounds in Imbi.

By  9pm in the night almost the whole neighborhood of Imbi was asleep. Night life and after office hour entertainment was unheard of. All the denizens were civil servants working in government departments and offices. Some houses were lucky enough to own a TV but usually, it is lights out early. Most of my friends were either from Djalan Imbi itself or the nearby area of Pasar Road.

I could not resist myself in between the story telling without inserting above, a video clip about the eating opportunities in the night in the historical city of Purwokerto in Central Jawa. I hope Malaysians of Indonesian descent or heritage or Indonesians the world over can relate to the video. The commentator is Bapak Nex Carlos, a noted and well known food logger from Djakarta Indonesia. It is a short simple story about a simple people and what they usually eat.

Back to Kuala Lumpur, it was a busy, thriving bustling Chinese-dominated city in the sixties. The fresh coat of paint hadn't been uncorked yet. But as we know, things were about to change. The old KL as we know it was to be knocked off its pedestal and in its place, a funny awkward-looking city had taken shape and form. An impostor you might say. Progress had been forced down on its inhabitants sometimes at costs which cannot be recovered. But reality has a way of forcing us to accept things that we cannot change. The new-look KL sang a tune that was jarring and out of place in the modern era. In short, KL now looks like an old lady dressed as a hot young chic, you get what I mean........KL is no more the KL of old, it now looks like a brand new hot young thing working in an old folk home. KL old-timers now can only spend their time on wishful thinking, wishing back the good old KL but inside their hearts, they know this can never happen, nothing can stop the march of time, the hands of the clock can only move in one direction and that is, forward. So they sit in their ruko kopi respectively while they "seruput" their kopi, their eyes looking in the distant where their "Mei kuei, mei kuei......flower of Malaya" once was, now on a battleship sailing for Britannia Raya. Now they belong to an era that is known as history. To explain it all in a nutshell, would be to summarize akin to the Indonesian saying, "Kisah panjang, sepotong rendang", which would e literally impossible.

In the context of the current landscape, the younger generation, those whom we fondly refer to the Millenials, haven't the slightest clue as to the ye olde Kuala Lumpur. The old folks in KL would fondly refer to it with a heavily accented Chinese accent as Ka-Lam-Par or Ka-Lom-Por. Don't ask me it's meaning, I am just as clueless as you. During that era, the cabaret was in vogue and they were mushrooming in every nook and cranny of Greater KL. I was a young un then but old enough to know they were places of happiness and fun for the male gender. I knew some of the male relatives of the older set would whisper in a hush and measured tones about such places among themselves. I don't think their womenfolk were oblivious to their male spouses but they were diplomatic enough not to cause a ruckus from them. It was rumoured cynically among them, that the real pendiri or founder of KL was none other than the famous stripper mademoiselle Rose Chan who has since then departed this realm and now residing with twinkle-twinkle, not so little stars far above the sky. In fact, some of them would swear this beside the big fat ogres residing in the temples. In fact, many among them would make weekly pilgrimages to this sponge bob for the latest kiat or tips on the "hot" numbers to invest in the nomor empat ekor. Sadly this trait is still around and still very prevalent and relevant in today's youth. They would say like, "No taloh, no kaser man!". BTW Kaser is Tamil for moolah or money. Parah banget.......

The three most famous schools in KL were St. John's Institution, Methodist Boy's School and Victoria Institution (my old alma mater). Of the three I guess VI was the most prominent at the time. During my time the headmaster was Mr Murugesu. He was its undeniable ruler from 1964-1969. I say ruler because that's what he did, he ruled over all and sundry like a mighty overlord. I haven't had the pleasure of knowing him personally even after we became septuagenarians and centenarians but woe betides to those who got on the wrong side of him. He was the Maha-thir of VI......note the Maha. But today among some all is past and history, he is your regular chum and guy next door.   I guess he meant well and he was sincere in carrying out his duties. He just wanted the students to give their best shot. I hear now he has attained the age well over ninety. That shows guts and stamina. He is in the last stages of completing his memoirs before it is published. 

The days of Ganyang Malaysia have passed to be superseded by "Teman Malaysia". It does not pay to wage war by military means but should war be considered, an economic-oriented war would be more palatable and palpable.

Tomorrow Saturday, November 28, 2020, my son-in-law will be travelling to Cambodia. He's being posted there. He is an accountant and his Chinese bosses require him to be there. I pray the Lord shall be with him and sustain him in his duties and responsibilities. His young family will surely miss him. Today's workforce is very mobile and their services are not restricted to one geographical area. Thus the need to be flexible and have a positive outlook. Kuala Lumpur is no longer self-sufficient and its citizens are needed to take on more responsibilities every day. 

I have forgotten to include a very important section of Kuala Lumpur in my writings and that is the enclave known as Bukit Bintang or Star Hill in English. Backlanes like Djalan Alor come to mind. Bukit Bintang during the nights is an incredible fairyland with a myriad of lights, sounds and smells of aromatic food filling and saturating the electric atmosphere in the air. I have walked the main street of Djalan Boekit Bintang in the night and truly it is comparable and on the same plane as London's West End or Tokyo's Ginza. The food served in Djalan Alor is the mecca of food enthusiasts in KL as well as Malaysia. In a way it beats even Gurney Drive in Penang Island which is now a haunted street. All the major hotels have a presence here. Even with the negative impact of pandemic, business has been hardly hit by it. The sustaining power of this street is awesome. During my schooldays, the place was still not developed to its full potential but the presence of BB Park alone was still sufficient enough to make it famous among locals and foreign visitors. In the sixties and early seventies, there were two theaters or cinemas servicing the district, they were the Cathay cinema and the Pavilion. Both of these have since been demolished to make way for super or hypermalls. Incredible as it may seem, the hustle and bustle of yesteryears have been increased after the total makeover of Djalan Boekit Bintang. The old may lament the vanishing of certain landmarks like old prewar cafes but the young in general welcome the new makeover with outstretched open arms. Boekit Bintang was near where I studied and that is Victoria Institution. BTW, a notorious character i.e the current Minister of Defence for the Republic of Indonesia i.e. General (Ret.) Prabowo Subianto studied also at the famous school. The famous Lot10 where the most expensive branded goods are displayed and sold to the rich and famous is also to be found at the main intersection of Djalan Boekit Bintang. When I was studying for my O levels at VI, I used to visit the Cathay cinema for a movie and then head for Djalan Alor for a cheap meal. BTW, everything here is non-halal so for Muslims, it is better to stay clear of this area when they are hungry.

Egad, if anyone were to condemn Djalan Boekit Bintang, it would only reflect badly on the person concerned. The three main sub-domains of Kuala Lumpur, i.e. Pasar Loot, Pudu Loot and Boekit Bintang Loot are the main attractions and honey pot of KL. They are the "andalan" or mainstay of the city. Batu Loot unfortunately lost its status as a honey pot sometime in the eighties for reasons we would not go into lest we be accused of being anti this and anti that, a prevalent culture here.

Just to digress a little, the above video clip shows the food logger Nex Carlos devouring tengkleng (goat's bones with some meat), sate klatak (sate wrapped around jeruji besi or iron bars) and tongseng (ribs soup or sop tulang iga). Sorry for the Indonesian words, this is for the benefit of Indonesian. readers. Well any way, rerouting back to good olde Boekit Bintang, it says in travelogues that this part of KL never sleeps. In the old days Boekit Bintang was infested with crime dens and criminals of the worst kind. But this has changed with the march of time. These criminals have been absorbed into the new landscape of Boekit Bintang and contributing to its revenue by being respectable businessmen. I view this as a positive sign of a change in the mindset of people who hold uniquely different occupations in the past.

The skyline over KL has indeed undergone an incredible transformation. This is due to the rapid progress made by Malaysians in the fields of technology and the art of acquiring wealth. Both these characteristics have driven the change in KL and its surrounding area e.g. Petaling Jaya. During my school days, many school students used public transport or leg power to get to school and back. But many today have their own transport in at least a scooter. Today's teachers are much younger and better qualified as far as their credentials are concerned. During my days, many of the teachers were past middle age and some even about to retire. In yesteryears, KL was less smoky and dusty. This could be attributed directly to the number of mechanized vehicles. present. Motorized transport is very popular these days and only a fool would be caught walking as a means of transport. The area where I stayed had a huge number of the university student population. Many were outstation students who had gained entry to the University of Malaya. University of Malaya then housed the cream of Malaysia's brains. But much of its lustre and shine have been robbed by private institutions of higher learning. Private educators in Malaysia have teamed up with their western counterparts in a win-win situation where many twinning courses are made available at affordable prices. My three children are such locally-foreign trained graduates. Hence the standings of Malaysian public institutions have plummeted invariably to the depths of despair. However, the bulk of the students in public universities are from the rural areas of the country. Unfortunately, these do not represent the best in the country. The quality of food however has not diminished with the march of time. 

Above is a clip of the evergreen traditional Djakarta-Betawi song, "Inilah dia Si Jali-jali".  This haunting melody never fails to stir up many very old memories in me. Memories are the centre stage where the spotlight shines on the protagonist who performs the dance routine which in this case tells the story of the life of a human being. 

Rojak vs Rujak

 

Two different countries. Same stock. Neighbors. Yet sworn enemies. Not family squabble. That briefly describes Indonesia and Malaysia. 

Why?........why this scenario? Sibling rivalry but with a twist......same father but different mothers......hence step sons and step daughters. Now you comprehend the vitriol involved. The lands of tropical forests and high mountains and rivers gushing into the Straits of Malacca or South China Sea or the Sea of Java.

I am not qualified to write on matters such as these. Who knows what is inside the heart of a man. Hence I have changed my direction and write on other nonsensical things. 

Just to clarify things, my blogposts are not fit entirely for human consumption. For one thing though it does not reflect the views or opinions of others. It would be best for one to read this blog with a big gunny sack of salt. 

Today is Friday 13/11/2020. Still boring and empty. Nothing happening. 

Saturday morning 06:33 am. Woke up at 06:00 am. Brushed my teeth and made myself a cup of milo. Aortic aneurysm and aortic dissection, medical terms which suddenly have cropped up in my life. Maybe one day they too will go away like my many illnesses of the past. God is indeed great. I have never been a pious or devout Christian but I sincerely believe in and have faith in my Lord Jesus Christ. He is not only my Saviour but my Healer. He is with me in times of distress. I remember just as if it was yesterday when after my fourth operation on the spine, I had difficulty walking for more than 10 years. The pain was gone but it seemed like the strength had left my legs. On and off I would pray to Jesus for help in walking normally again. I went to church for a few years and then stopped when my mother became seriously ill. I thought I would never get well again. Then one day in 2015, I walked up from my house to the commercial center where I stayed and realised "I could walk normally again". Thanks be to God for our Lord Jesus Christ. I am ever so grateful to the Lord for the many miracles that happened in my life. When you least expect it, the Lord Jesus Christ will step in and intervene and that is when the healing starts.

I have always suffered from a weak constitution since my young days till today. I remember the frequent fever chills that have plagued me even in grade school. Visits to the doctor were seldom carried out as we could not really afford a doctor's consultation even then. I remember my grandmother would come over to our house and work her miracles with a hard boiled egg and reciting incantations around a small pot that was burning with small pieces of yellow paper. Wonder of wonders, the fever would leave me and I would feel better. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamn't of in your philosophy (science).

My youth age 5 to 18 was spent in an enclave of KL known was Imbi road. It was hemmed in Pasar road in the south and Bukit Bintang in the north. My grade school was spent in Pasar Road English School (1). The (1) meant that I was in the morning session of the school. I credit Pasar Road English School (1) with moulding me into the person I am today. Pasar Road a name synonymous with anything that is Chinese was home to many great men who lived and studied at the school. Pasar Road English School (1) was the equivalent of Harrow's in the British Isles. The teachers were patient and I don't remember anyone of them shouting or slapping any students for being overly naughty. The headmaster a benign and friendly gentleman ruled the school with the touch of a saint. He was the epitome of what a teacher should be. The speech days at the end of the year and the sports days organized by him went like clockwork and everyone enjoyed themselves to the tilt even the parents of the students. Sports day was marked by a sterling performance of the school band of which I was a member (I played the flute). The band was trained and led by Mr. Ng Cheng Kiat. The school band was very well known throughout Malaysia and we were even invited to perform at important events at the Stadium Merdeka. I cannot remember if we were attired in special uniforms for the band but we trained regularly on Saturdays and school holidays. I remember Mr. Mac Kean Boon who played the big drum and Mr. Dennis Appaduray who played percussions. There was no reward handed out to us only the joy of being able to play our musical instruments.

I used to hang out at pasar road with a young classmate who has since then migrated to UK when he was in Victoria Institution. We would go on Saturday afternoons to visit the fish shops stocked with aquariums. There was plenty then. We did not buy any fish and would just watch the fish swimming around in the aquariums. After so many years I can still remember every little detail of our weekly visits to the aquariums. We could not afford the bus fare, so the both of us would walk to pasar road come rain or shine. I lost a good friend and companion when my friend left for the UK while we were studying in form one in VI. At the perimeter of pasar road were places like Cochrane road, Nakhoda Yusuf, Peel road and Kampung Pandan where the houses were also inhabited by civil servants. A classmate Mr.Lim Mun Hoy stayed in Djalan Nakhoda Yusuf  while we studied together at Pasar road and VI. His dad Mr. Lim Wee Sin was a colleague of my dad. Both of them were at Federal House and were very close. In the nights Mr.Lim would cycle to our house bringing with him a pile of magazines for me to read. He migrated to New Zealand with his family in the early nineties and since then we have no news of him any more.

The Postal Services Club was only about 100 meters away from our house. It was a popular meeting place for the young and old alike. The young would go there during the day and played football or just exercised while the older ones usually comprising of civil servants would head for the club for drinking sessions and billiards. 

The postal club still exists today and together with the padang are the last remaining vestiges of the old era. Though many of its former patrons have passed on, the club has a sort of notoriety about it. A famous footballer and ex-Victorian Mr. Zakaria bin Shariff trained at the postal club padang during his schooldays. I do not know the reason why but when Zakaria left VI, nothing more was heard of him and his football exploits. The inter-civil-servants annual athletics meet was also held at the Postal Club padang. Malaysia excelled at athletics and stamped its mark in South-east asia. Surprisingly the meet was of a very high standard. The best part of the meet was reserved at the end. Tables were reserved and covered with refreshments meant for the guests, meaning us. We helped ourselves generously to the food and drinks that were laid on the tables. It was kind of postal club management to allow everyone including the residents living nearby to participate in the happy event. 

During the era in the sixties, was the height of the emergency. The emergency in reality was an all out war between the government and the Malayan communists. It was fought deep in the jungles of Malaya, specifically in the Main Range now known as Banjaran Titiwangsa. Hence every year the Information Services Department of Malaya specifically it's propaganda arm would conduct film shows held at the Postal Club field in the late evenings. Usually an announcement would be made about the film show to be held, its time and venue. About an hour before the film show, we would head for the field and sit around the projector and in front of the screen. The shows were popular Hollywood movies e.g. Sinbad the Sailor and Ben Hur to name a few. Before the movie was screened a short talk about the evils of communism would be held by an officer from the department. Usually we would forget what the officer had said and wait impatiently for the movie to be screened. Often the officer would be a bule (known in Malay as Mat Salleh) representing the British government who were assisting the Malayan government in the war against the communists. The government should have no fear about the emergency for the people were solidly behind the government in the war against the Malayan communists. We knew too well what the communists stood for and had no love for them. The movie would end about 10 pm in the night and we would head home, all walking as cars were unheard of then. We brought no stools along with us and just sat with legs folded on the soft green grass. It was one of the many kindnesses shown by the government towards it's people.

After completing standard six I was lucky enough to be selected to progress to Victoria Institution, Kuala Lumpur to continue my secondary education. I remember receiving a letter from VI to sit for an entrance examination to be held on a Saturday morning in December at the school. I recollect that on that fateful Saturday I forgot to bring a pen or pencil for the test and had to borrow a red ballpoint pen from the student sitting on my right. I also remember for getting a strong whack on the back of my neck by an invigilator whom later I would get to know as a teacher by the name of Peethamparam aka in short Peet. Peet has since migrated to Melbourne, Australia and my desire to repay that whack he gave to me never materialized. I am now bigger, stronger, taller and much more younger than him and I strongly believe in the proverb, "An eye for an eye.............". Peet had developed a reputation as a whacker among the many male teachers who were addicted to whacking and slapping found in Victoria Institution. I believe one of the pre-requisites before a teacher was accepted to teach in VI was, "Do you believe with all your heart and soul in whacking and slapping your pupils on a regular basis?' If the answer is a positive, rest assured you would be accepted into the fraternity of whackers and slappers nesting happily in the premier school of Malaysia during that era. The whackers and slappers were the norm and not the exception and indeed if a teacher were to be found lacking in this discipline, he would be looked down upon by his fellow brethren and sisters of the Hood. What Hood, I frankly have yet to ascertain. Sadly among the Hood, some had fallen beneath the Hood and no longer with us. I bear no malice towards anyone of them for many of us were really stubborn and naughty and needed a whack or two to get back our alignment and balancing into perspective something akin to the wheels of a wahana (vehicle).

I remember Mr.Renggasamy, our teacher in General Science. He was a tall, stooping and rather thin character. But he knew his subject matter well. Moreover the added bonus was that he was a personal and good friend of the author of our series of general science books, a Mr.Ooman, himself a teacher at the Methodist Boys School KL. Mr. Ooman's books were well written, easy to understand and very illustrative with plenty of pictures and diagrams to help the students. Mr. Ooman's books were accepted as the standard teaching material for students in Malaya from form one to form three. I grew very fond of general science and would look forward to the lessons taught by Mr.Renggasamy. I cannot remember who was the class master/or mistress for form 1 north. It was so long ago. I was living in Djalan Selatan, Imbi Road during my education at VI. Every Tuesday morning we had a one hour lesson in Physical Education or PE in short. Nobody liked PE for it made us sweat and sticky all over. But PE was mandatory and unless one produced a medical certificate from the doctor, everyone had to partake of this stupid routine once a week. I was as think as a rake or bambu and what I needed was more food and not exercise. All of us were thin as bambu (aka bamboo) except for Mac Kean Boon, who looked like spongebob. No offence meant as Mac was a nice guy and easy to get along with. He had a cousin brother also in the same class, a Mac Yin Tee. Both Macs were good students and very friendly. Both also came from Pasar Road English School (1). There were 7 Malay students in the class, Salleh the Hood, Nordin, Raja Nong Chik, the twin brothers, Syed (Syed Nasir's sons), Abdul Rashid and Aminuddin. 

VI was perceived as a melting pot of the best students in academia and sports. I do not subscribe to this view. I believe other schools had equally smart students in academia and those who were also good in sports but their public relations was not so effective. School commenced at 7 am and ended at 1pm. And after that there were curricular activities which were given equal importance. I joined the 2nd.KL Scout Troop but cannot remember much of the activities I participated in. I also joined the Red Cross, the Philatelic Club. I cannot recollect joining anything else. The house I belonged to was SAS (Sultan Abdul Samad) denoted by the purple T-shirts that we wore. During form 1, the house captain was Nah Seang Hoo who also happened to be the school vice-captain. He was good both in studies and sports. 

The school kantin was famous for its curry laksa. But due to financial constraints I had the opportunity to taste it only once when I was in Form 1 North. As for the other dishes it was equally expensive for me with my limited budget. Hence by 10:30am I was a very hungry young man. There was no subsidies given to impoverished students. The new economic policy had not taken effect yet. I had a few friends who were prefects and they executed the trust placed on them exceedingly well. It was during this period that Malaysia was experiencing a Christian revival. Many evangelists from the United States and also from Indonesia came to Malaysia to perform evangelistic work among the local Christians. People like Billy Graham was on everyone's lips. Even the conversion of Karen Carpenter and Cliff Richard was much talked about in schools, pulpits and coffee shops across Malaysia. Speakers especially from America were much sought after and many of them were asked about the hippie culture and flower people. The war in Vietnam was much debated and most Americans especially its youth were against the war. I remember being taken every Friday and Sunday nights to attend a church service at Gospel Hall, Jalan Gasing, Petaling Jaya by an alumnus two years my senior, a Mr.Kam Beng Teik. It was here that I received Jesus into my life. I expected to feel something different inside me but there was change in my feelings or emotions, everything was the same as before. I was advised by Beng Teik not to rely on my feelings or moods. Beng Teik was essentially a nice person and soft spoken. He was a bio-math student and after his HSC he was offered to study medicine by the National University of Singapore. I was with him for two years before he left for Singapore to further his studies. At Gospel hall Djalan Gasing, our pianist was none other than Dr.Lenny deVries's younger brother who also taught at VI. The younger brother was totally different from Lenny, he was kind, humble and soft spoken.

There were three cinema theaters that were closest to VI. They were the Rex cinema, the Pavilion cinema and the Cathay cinema and the Rialto in BB Park. These  cinemas aired popular Hollywood films. I remembered that I saw the movie "Goodbye Mr.Chips" three times at the Cathay cinema. I was in Form 3 East. It was the year the Lower Certificate of Education was held. There wasn't any panic among the students as it was an easy examination and the school achieved 100% passes. Form three was a pretty quiet year for an examination year.

I cannot remember any earth shaking event that happened directly or indirectly because of the school because nothing happened at school but something did happen which the world would soon know as the May 13, 1969 racial riots that happened in Kuala Lumpur and its surrounding areas. It started at around 6pm in the evening and quickly spread like wild fire. I returned home early on May 13, 1969 as there were no curricular activities that day. My dad had heard what was happening early on, as the prime minister's office was in Federal House as were many ministers at the time. So those working in Federal House got the news early. It spread quickly and soon the building was almost empty of workers as they fled home. The Malays gathered first at the house of the menteri besar of Selangor, Dato Harun Idris at the junction of princess road and circular road. Many witnesses claimed they saw the darkening night sky lighted up in flames and heard the beating of drums in the distance.

Malaysia declared two months of emergency curfew and all the schools were closed. Thus the honeymoon year was given an additional two months of "holidays" by circumstances beyond our control. It was also days of the rumors. The rumors sounded ridiculous in the first place. Thankfully peace was restored after two months and the situation on the ground gradually returned to normal. We have learned not to take things for granted and to work diligently for our peace and prosperity. 

Victoria Institution Ups and Downs

 

This school or what is left of it was once my alma mater for 7 lousy years. There was nothing original about the school. The school was a fraud. It did not nurture or develop home grown talents. Rather it stole the best from other schools and then shamelessly claimed them as its own. The only thing original about it was the unliving, unbreathing stone structure that symbolizes the school as a product of a proud colonial era now long since defunct. As far as its teachers were concerned they were notoriously famous for the rapid one-two slaps executed on the faces of pupils who would dare stand up to them. The teachers were perverts and obviously they were from the lower strata of society or not they would not have become teachers. Among the perverts stood an outstanding individvidual by the name of Peet @ Peethamparam, I suspect a cross-breed or what locals call pariah who perfected what the Japanese kempetai left in 1945. He is now I believe in Melbourne. This is due to the fact that many of his victims are now looking for his blood just like what the Israeli Mossad are now hunting the Nazis responsible for the genocide.

Before I move on to the story proper. This expose would not be complete without telling the story of a late teacher a Mr.Rajasingham or Rajalingam, I am not sure which is his real name but one thing I am sure of is the "Raja". This Raja was a tried true and tested hireling of the Japanese Kempeitai. He brought the levels of torture to new heights. Not satisfied with the quick one-two, his right leg would often follow after the one-two and land on the butt of the victim. But Nature in her good sense saw what was happening and the imbecile's leg was amputated for cancer. But the one-two on the faces of pupils never stopped and one fine day when the birds were chirping in the sky and dear papa it was hard to die, well Mr.Raja expired his last and went on a final journey to receive his well deserved one-two from his Creator.

I am not a bigot or racialist but without exceptions, all the self-appointed torturers of pupils were without an exception from the Tamil class. If one knows his history, the Tamils were all from southern Indian state of Tamil Naidu where the one-two culture was steeped in their folklore. Well before I turn xenophobic, I think I better steer clear of this sensitive subject lest I be accused of executing the rapid one-two on the local Tamils. 

I entered form one north in January 1966 after sitting the trials for entry into VI. I knew no one in form one north and made it a point early in my school life not to know anyone. However complete avoidance of any form of human or social contact was impossible. I remember the first classmate who stepped up to me and introduced himself as Cheah Peng Keong. Peng Keong was fair and had small shifty eyes. He said he stayed in a place called Cochrane road and came from the primary school called Pasar Road English School. I replied I came from Sekolah Dasar Banyuwangi Negeri Satu in East Jawa. He kept quiet. Well that was certainly a very short conversation. I have forgotten the Form master but I believe it was an  Indian. In fact VI bore close resemblance to the Indian sub-continent. In my first day at class I remember I studied about a French king called Charlemagne. Recess was at 10 am and I sat in class. Simply because I had no money to buy any food or drink. Nobody asked and nobody cared. I learned later that the majority of my classmates came from well to do families and money was no issue with them. 

I cannot remember much of my first day at class and classes ended at 1pm after which I walked the short distance to the school's junior hostel. The hostel is more a ramshackle barn than anything else but as the stupid but true saying goes, "Beggars you are entitled to the lowest class". Meals were 3 times a day and bland. Obviously these guys haven't heard about seasoning. 

The next day, was science lesson taken by a tall thin Tamil gentleman by the name of Mr. Renggasamy. Rengga was a nice guy unlike most of his peers. And his lessons well delivered and interesting. Biology was the first subject matter touched on and I liked biology. As usual recess meant sitting in the classroom and I truly envied my classmates who could stuff their stomachs with food. Throughout form one, nothing unusual happened or anything worth talking about. I remember there were two cousin brothers in my class, a Mac Kean Boon and a Mac Yin Tee. One was tall and fat, the other short and undernourished. During assembly on Monday mornings the whole school sang the Negara ku while I hummed and sang softly the Sang Merah Putih. As far as I was concerned I did not owe any allegiance to Malaysia and it was to be like this throughout my seven years there.

Mr.Murugesu the headmaster presided over all the assemblies and I have never seen him seconding it to anyone else. The school captain stood on the right side of the HM while the vice-captain on his left. The teachers were seated on the dais of the school hall. The assembly was never long and always within a reasonable time frame. 

In form two we had a new math master, an Tamil by the name of Ramalingam. He also was an adherent of the quick one-two and he was indeed very generous with it. Same a form one, form two was equally dull and boring. In form two I knew a little more English and thus became a little more daring. On Saturday evenings, when we were allowed out of the hostel, I walked all the way to Sultan Street, Petaling Street and even up to Batu Road. KL was a food paradise and foods of all kinds especially Chinese food could be easily found. I usually ordered my food in English as I wanted to show off my new found prowess. The Chinese in Malaysia could converse in English with no problems and I had many a pleasant time trying out new dishes.

During my second year I also befriended Koan Po Wo. Koan was a tall burly fellow with a ready smile. He was in the school's cadet corps and was being trained to play drums. He told me he stayed in Imbi Road. I do not know where Imbi Road is but I am told it is quite near our school. Of course by now I know Imbi road very well, and it is part of the Golden Triangle which is a very busy district of downtown KL. Koan loved spicy mee curry with plenty of cockles. Sometimes he would consume two bowls of the stuff before he feels satiated. Last year I heard of his tragic demise on Christmas eve from colorectal cancer at Subang Jaya Medical Center. Apparently he had been fighting the disease for 4 years. Koan was also a brilliant student and would always remain within the top 5 students in the class. At the end of the year after the school tests I surprised myself by bagging the prize for mathematics. 

Form 3 1968 was a very memorable year. Many exciting events were happening in the world. The flower people were growing in strength in America and the famous rock concert at Woodstock was about to be held themed Jesus Christ Superstar. Many great rock and roll songs also appeared on the scene by American and British groups. On top of that a Christian revival was sweeping the world with its origins in America's famous evangelist Billy Graham. I was in Malaysia and even in this conservative Muslim majority country, the reverberations of the revival could be felt strongly and churches were doing a roaring trade. Pastors were in great demand and were asked to speak on all matters from politics to religion and even the end days. I went to many such meetings following my Malaysian classmates who seemed particularly affected by the new wave of emotions surrounding Christianity. Almost every Ah Beng adopted a Christian name. The Malay community was quite tolerant towards the winds of change and this encouraged the local movement to gain more followers and further strength. The schools were the hotbeds of these movements and many students converted to Christianity. It was an exciting period to live in and I enjoyed every moment of this period. 

The Lower Certificate Examinations came and went. It was just a mere formality, it was so easy, the school secured 100% passes and multiple students with strings of straight A's to show for their efforts. But I am wiser today to know that a basketful of A's mean nothing if it is not complemented with human decency, humility, kindness, empathy and compassion. An intelligent man is only half a man when the other half is missing...the one called love. Love not for the ones who love you for your status, stature or wealth or fame, but love for the ones who are unloved in this world, the ones whom the world despises because they were born with nothing in this world. 

The school compared with other schools in the country could be deemed to be spacious, palatial and foreboding at the same time. There was nothing chirpy or bright about its surroundings, everything single item or structure was conservative or old fashioned. It was not a place that bred good-naturedness or empathy. It was narcissistic, self-centered and egotistical. Everything was based on ranking and scoring the most points. The more you scored, the more you were loved and looked up to. Be it academically or in the field of sports, coming out tops was the focus and priority. Failure was not looked upon as a learning process but as a weakness that had to be overcomed. 

I never did like VI and what it stood for. It was hypocrisy practiced to the extreme. Good students were fawned upon, mediocre students were frowned upon. The teachers were active participants in this culture of nurturing the plants that bore good fruit and cutting down like reeds the ones that did not produce good fruit. One fella I knew was a holder of 4 scholarships. Then there was a boy who came from Sekincan. His dad was some kind of big time Chinese contractor. He joined VI in Form 4. Apparently his grades were below average. But daddy's money got him in. While in school, this enterprising fello got himself involved in everything. He was into all the sports but he never really shone in any one of them. But this fello knew the importance of visibility. He barely scarped through his Malaysia Certificate of Education and entered form 6 double math. There he upped his ante and became the president of every imaginable school society. This and daddy's yearly contributions to the school's coffers did not go unnoticed and he was chosen to be the school captain. To enforce his claim, he became a Christian. Again he barely scraped through his Higher School Certificate examinations and could not get entry into any local university. But no problem, daddy's money got him into an obscure polytechnic in the UK known as Kingston Polytechnic where he enrolled in the civil engineering degree program. When he came back to Malaysia, he eventually became a big man and today he is well known as a corporate big wig in Malaysia as well as internationally. That goes to show you what money can do.

There were many like this fello in VI where daddy's money got them entry into this elite school. Texas tea aka black gold is drunk all over the world. Just based on merits alone, this fellos would most probably have qualified for San Peng Road Secondary School in Jalan San Peng of course which is loacted just next to VI, and ended their days working as coffee shop assistants where else but in San Peng Road of course!

I do bear a grudge against my alma mater. My alma mater stood for qualities such as excellence in academia and sports and nothing else below it matter. What happened I believed is they succeeded in created a huge pool of neurotic misfits after they graduated from school. These pool of neurotics believed wholeheartedly they were they were the be all and end all of human life as known in the world. Many believed they were the penultimate polyglots of society and behaved as such. But they were wrong, sorely wrong. Life is more than excellence in any particular human endeavor. Life is about respect for all regardless of one's standing or stature in life. Life is about compassion and humanity for the other person. Life is about humility taking pride in the simple things of life. Life is more than just acquiring a man-made trophy that will soon lose its shine and collect dust in one's cabinet. Life is more than about standing on the rostrum acknowledging the accolades and cheers of a frantic nation. Life is about knowing your Creator and the purpose you were created for. Champions come, go and they die. Do you know you can derive more peace of mind and pleasure in washing dishes and doing ordinary household chores than having the whole world's treasury in your grasp. 

What happens after you die? People will say nice things during your wake, some tears will be shed, people will look solemn for a while and then what......you will just be another memory etched in the minds of the few who really cared for you. After a decade, what then, nobody will remember who the hell you were anyway. Will you remember your headmaster after he is gone....really nobody gives two hoots after he is gone. Will a politician or even a statesman be remembered for the great things he has done. I will tell you no one cares except for historians who will pen thick tomes about the person and the tomes will be left on the library shelves to collect dust. 

Do the schools or colleges prepare you for the day when you will be forgotten? People are so obsessed with paper qualifications so much so that the measure of a man's character or ability is based on the quantity of such papers he possesses. They feel so proud when they are called Dr. this.....and Dr. that. 

Victoria Institution may have produced some of the best students in terms of GPA but that is all it ever did. After that the supposedly brilliant fellow goes into college and scores another first as a summa cum laude and then nothing is ever heard of him/or her anymore. Let us be sure of one thing, Victoria Institution during the good old colonial era and during the fifties, sixties and early seventies were not Eton or Harrow, though they did everything they could to try and pain this facade. They were never able to emulate this two noble institutions simply because they did not have the quality to do so. Unlike schools and colleges in Singapore today are close to closing the gap on the top schools and universities in the world. So, shame on you VI, you are just like imitation Japanese goods produced during the era after the second world war.. I know what I am talking about because I was there living and breathing the air and stench of VI for seven long years. Although now it is 5 decades too late to regret, but I should have continued my studies in Indonesia where I would have derived a well-rounded education without being always pressured to be the best in everything, including pooping.

The custodians in VI failed to understanding one basic human element of human nature. Not everyone of us are geared for excellence or want the very best of everything. Many of us are quite contented to be second best or even third best. WE just want to lead a normal life with 3 meals a day and work at an ordinary honest job fulfilling our duties as a good citizen. Being the best does not necessarily mean a good citizen and often avariciousness will set in and a good apple turns bad. Just look at the many pillars of society who have fallen thinking they can go one step further in their careers.

Victoria Institution was conceived by a group of local rich men who wanted to show their appreciation to British for the wealth they had accumulated under the white man's benefaction. Much of the money came from illicit trade like prostitution, opium and gambling dens. Hence VI was the first version of the House of the Rising Sun. Many a famous man walked the corridors of VI when they were young. And now many are dead as doornails. It is said wine becomes better with age but not so with VI. In VI, it lost its lustre and fluster with age. Though it can be said the downgrading of VI was not entirely its fault but the policies of the government to level the playing field bt bringing down the standard of education across the board. It succeed magnificently in this  endeavor and is now the talk of the world. 

So down, down, down, it went under never to resurface again. Well proud mary keeps on rolling, rolling down the river....tang....tang.....tang.......

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But to be fair change was inevitable. Mass migration of ethnic Chinese and Indians to foreign lands also to some extent had depleted the best brains in the country. Where was the school to scout for new talent? Education as a means to attract tourist students from foreign countries was still far of in the offing. So, the grades slipped further and further down until one day, no one recognizes the school but just as another common everyday school.

I feel tired today. Nothing comes to mind. Everything is blank.Is Tamil Michael still alive? Are his eyes open or perpetually closed? I have just spoken to ES Shankar, Dr.Mahendran and Ng Chee Peng, The first two I talked about my disease, aortic dissection. The secondary disease abdominal aortic aneurysm is also a cause for concern. I do not know what to think anymore. The hands refuse to move.

Today Sunday 1st. November 2020 is not much better. The stomach feels bloated and queasy. Maybe tomorrow will be better, I hope.

There is some cheer for me at least for today. As you know I was diagnosed with aortic dissections at the University Malaya Medical Center last Sunday. The cardio's prognosis was "quick death"....."at any time". Well my wife returned from Ipoh yesterday where her elder brother gave her some traditional Chinese medicines in the form of pills for me. Those pills don't come cheap, Chinese medicines to the contrary are always very, very expensive. According to my brother-in-law, a friend of his was cured of the same ailment as mine by taking those very same pills. I was never a fan of alternative medicine approach but now I am willing to try anything. Anyway one must keep in mind, Chinese civilization began much earlier than Western civilization. I had my first dose this morning.

It has been 5 days since I was diagnosed with the deadly disease. A good friend advised me to take it a day at a time. Why do I want to run, when I can only walk? Makes a lot of sense. The place where I stay known as Petaling Jaya is a busy thriving suburb and the most expensive place to live in Malaysia. Just in terms of density alone, it has the largest number of malls and specialist centers in the country.

Well it is half way into Saturday and a most boring day it has been. I am troubled with a stiff neck, wonder whether it has anything to do with my aortic dissections. Looking forward to nothing and expecting nothing. It is now late afternoon, zero, empty, nemo, nothing, cipher. 

Sunday evening, November 8, 2020. My thoughts were of my impending demise. This was confirmed by 3 specialists at the University Malaya Medical Center last Sunday while I lay on the makeshift stretcher at the emergency room. They insisted I undergo immediate surgery but I signed the necessary papers absolving them of any blame and discharged myself. Did I make the biggest mistake of my life or am I about to witness the greatest miracle in my life by the Lord Jesus Christ. I wish I had the answers but I hadn't the slightest clue. I thought of my two young grandsons aged 10 months and 3 years. I will miss them. I have no more tears left not even for myself. The well dried up years ago. My life had been the story of one disaster after another, one grief after the other. Some are blessed with the quality of courage, I am cursed with the quality of cowardice. After all they are specialists, who am I? I am one very scared old Christian. I have no money to engage the best doctors or get into the best hospitals. I have no money even for a stick of ice cream. The worst is I have no one to share my fears with or talk to them about my ailments. It is like watching the sunset but the sun does not go down. 

Today Monday was another quiet day. The morning was particularly bad. Emotions negative overwhelmed my whole psyche. Thanks be to God there was no pain. A good friend and Christian sister Sara Cornelius from Utah in America wrote me an email. She encouraged me to plug on and not to lose hope. She has always been there for me in my time of need though she herself faces many challenges in her daily life. Her prayers have been a great source of strength for me and I am grateful to her with all my heart. Such good and sincere friends are hard to find and just one in your life is more than sufficient. It is late evening now and soon it will be night. Time flies and we are not even aware of it. We take time for granted. I had a simple dinner of a slice of bread with margarine on it washed down with plain water. Spartan some may say, but simple meals are usually the healthy meals. I wanted to read the webpage of my alma mater but decided not to. I wonder how poor people face the trails and tribulations of everyday life.

Many things in the world are beyond our control. Though we claim through technology that we have control over many things, in reality we have control over nothing. Even our lives and destiny are beyond our control. I have always dreamt of visiting western europe but that dream still remains a dream. Maybe in another life, the afterlife where there are no more restrictions and constraints to block my path any longer. I do not wish to see the big cities but to take in the atmosphere of the lush rural countryside. Christmas is around the corner but it will not be much of a Christmas for many of us. The virus appears in no hurry to leave us. America has the most number of people infected by the virus.

 

Kindness or Empathy

 

It is Saturday morning Aug 15 2020. It is the period before the breaking of dawn. Three  hours later I am back at the keyboard. There is nothing much to do, Saturday is always quiet and lack color. I have been reading up on old Kuala Lumpur right back to the fifties and sixties. My memory is also failing me and I have to struggle to remember places, events and names. In the old days, when life was not so hectic, the people in general were much more polite and not in a hurry to catch up on appointments. I remember distinctly the bountiful numbers of Chinese in Malaysia. Comparatively we had very little Chinese here.

Victoria Institution was really an eye opener on the life of the elite class. Practically all the students were of the elite caliber. The school was impressive, the teachers very dedicated and hardworking. Today I do not know if the school is still around. I guess so, as the grapevine has no news on its demise.

Teachers on the whole are a forgotten lot. On very rare occasions, we hear and see of old students coming together to celebrate a former teacher for his/her dedication in helping them acquire a good education. Coming to the subject of teachers again, I remember clearly my teachers in KL who taught me so many things and were very decent and patient with me. After crossing the Sea of Java and docking at Port Kelang I was sent to meet the headmaster Mr. V Murugesu without even waiting to catch my breath. I showed Mr. Murugesu the letter from the Ministry of Education, Indonesia confirming my enrolment in Victoria Institution. It was Christmas Eve, nonetheless Mr. Murugesu kindly waited for my arrival at his office just below the bell tower. Mr. Murugesu said I would be placed in Lower Six B1, or the pure math class and he added he would walk with me to the students hostel just adjacent the school. We walked a dirt track under very shady trees and from about 60 meters from the hostel, I could hear the tune of silent night being played and the raucous voices of young hostelites.

I was introduced to the hostel master, an Indian man and also the hostel captain, a muscular young man about 20. They were very friendly and went out of their way to show around the premises which was to be my home for the next two years. The hostel captain Joe (not his real name) was Chinese about 19 and a cheerful manner about him. English was the lingua franca spoken at the hostel and was to be my language for the next two years.

English was quite difficult and I found the going tough. But my classmates spoke English as if by second nature. I tried very hard during the two years in VI, trying to beef up my command of English. Malaysians in general spoke fluent English having been taught so by their English colonial masters. All races spoke the language without difficulty. The weather in Malaysia was similar to that in Indonesia except for the fact that it is not home to a single volcano. My form teacher was a Chinese lady but I have forgotten her name. I remember Mr.Ananda Krishna who taught us Pure Math. Mr. Ananda was super cool in Math and had once taught in India. He was a short tiny man, a bit deaf in the right ear. Hence he had a earphone place in his right ear. He also had a sense of humor, the Jack Benny kind. Mr.Gan taught us applied math, a tall and burly Chinese who had graduated in mathematics from the University of Malaya. Mrs. Ee taught us chemistry while Mr.Selavaraj taught us Physics. Since Form 6 had no physical classes, often we had to attend classes by occupying the laboratory. For General Paper, a eurasian man taught us the subject.

VI had a good mix of scholars and sportsmen and performed exceedingly well in both disciplines. I believe the school's motto was second to none.

Do not do unto others...

 

Calm before the Storm

Today is the day after the storm. The storm refers to the violent eruption from Gunung Sanbowo in the island of Sumatra just north-west of Jawa. I heard on the airwaves in Kota Malang, East Jawa. We have another 145 active volcanoes to contend with. This year is the second active voice we in Indonesia have heard and felt. Altogether 147 active volcanoes that will speak but only when.....

Got up at 04:30. It was raining heavily. The outside was dark and quiet. Thinking of the past a lot. Possible friends, former colleagues and ex-schoolmates, whether they were still alive. I have tried to reconnect with the past, 50 years back in time but always I hit a dead end. What I write here is not really a blog, that is heavy stuff, what I do here is to pen my thots about myself starting from getting up from bed to before I call it a day.

Continuing from this morning, the rain has abated. Good news. Too much rain will also be hard on most folks. I started the day reminiscing about past friends and colleagues. Especially childhood friends from the early days of childhood. The group which ran about naked and barefooted. Yes, even slippers wendre a commodity that we can ill afford. It is a nice-to-have but not a must-have. Most of my group settled in Holland as we were once a colony of Holland.

The two years I spent in Kuala Lumpur did not help much in terms of language barriers but it was an eye-opener as to how low our standards were when compared with the Malaysians in general. Even today the elite of Indonesian society seek treatment from Singapore. In Singapore, we may see the best pool of medical talent but soaring and exorbitant prices have sort of barred the ordinary Indonesian from treatment in Singapore. For us we have to seek the services of a modest and humble treatment from a Kedokteran PNS (Pegawai Negeri Sipil) or a doctor from the civil service.

The sun is now arising from the eastern skyline and it is comforting the day will soon be a shining and burning hot weather which we are accustomed to. For those holding the BPJS (or Badan Penyelenggara Jaminan Sosial) can at least have access to public medical treatment.

It is almost sundown, the time to eat, wash up and then to bed. Feeling a bit under the weather while continuing the process of weaning from a potent medication. It has helped but I feel it is time for the drug to go. I will try and keep trying to locate my long lost friends over the internet. I am not very optimistic about my chances but I have got to try. I hope they are well and still around. 

Where is the sky?

Sering-sering kita tertanya-tanya antar kita sendiri, apa maksud kehidupan kita di fana yang di sebut-sebut dunia (Earth dalam bahasa Inggris) dan alam maya (Spiritual world).

The vidwo above comprise of old traditional Jawanese music. It's ancient flavor has not dissipated for centuries and the main musical instrument is of course the gamelan. It is a rather a strange and awkward theme to base one's blog under but for one cent goes, here goes nothing.

This world is obsessed with the new and fascinating toys we have been given the privilege of playing with. Even  old aunties and uncles do not remember the times they were young and a computer was only a pipe dream.

I also believe the generators of such tools and content should be given the proper acknowledgement and dues. Piracy is not cool, it is wrong morally and also wrong secular-wise. I too would like to be given free content and free this and free that but have we thought about the other guy who is plugging away the night to give us so much joy and realization of one's worth. No I don't really believe we have given much thot to these nerds and geeks. Well it is time we do or as we say, "Where is the sky then?". Even the Good Book says "A workman must be paid his wages". Companies like Google, Microsoft and Facebook have given the world so much and I strongly believe in the principle in allowing such companies enjoy the fruits of their labor.

As the old latin once said "Ora et Labora".

Tired, ill and downcast

The two video clips above are dedicated to the memory of the men who took part in fight for freedom. This one, a larger one I include as it is a syntax error.

I included two video clips of the American Civil War, I have a great interest in America, its history and legacy and most importantly the lives of the everyday American.

My peripheral neuropathy is acting up again with shooting pains in the face and legs.

Gypsies "Friends" and Thieves

This particular song has a special place in a small compartment inside my heart. I was only 16 when I first heard this song. Since then, all the members of the original group have died except for one. I am a lansia (lanjut usia) now, a ketandan, an old man who gets by each day reliving the memories of yesteryears. Somehow the musix dished out today does not interest me at all or strike a cord of vein in my body. Perhaps that is what the world calls falling into old age.

The title to this blog I suppose the three types of generic friends that passed through my life at different phases of my period in this world. Yes gypsies, friends and thieves would aptly describe the scumbags that I had to deal with.

During my formal school education in Indonesia I guess was the only time I had true friends, perhaps because of our innocence or the absence of having to earn a living so that we would not go hungry. Even in college I guess this trend continued but unfortunately I have lost the contacts of those halcyon years. Our study years could be summed up by one word and that is we were all hardup. We had very little except for the shirt on our backs. Money, most of us had none. In Sekolah Menengah Atas Malang, Negeri 1, my cohorts had just as much as me and that is one big egg O. Hence we were always hungry in school. The boys at the education ministry placed filling one's stomach at the bottom of the pecking order. As for recreation we just jumped into the nearest river that happened to be nearest.

MY shior or constellation was Aquarius which was thought to represent a peaceful and rewarding life. I believe the peramal or tukang tebak (soothsayer) who said this has to have his head checked at a sanatorium.


The song above I first heard when I was 15 years of age and have never grown tired of it. Music has a unique and special way of harnessing and bonding people of different cultures all over the world. In the morning I took out my laptop as usual around 8 am and tried to look for any traces of past schoolmates and childhood friends that may give me a clue as to where they are and what they are doing. As always after two hours of frustration I decided it was time and stop. Where on earth could they be hiding, I thought to myself, they cannot have just vaporated into thin air.

When I was in KL, I like the First Baptist Church located at high ground called Bukit Gasing. The pastor was Rev. Lloyd de Run. He was a genial man and had immaculate manners. His wife was Chinese and the adopted daughter always followed them to services. Their real daughter was a Miss Malaysia/Miss World winner and the pastor had a son who trained dogs for a living,

How time flies. I remember going to the USIS (United States Information) which was set alongside the Gombak river. Further up  from here was the famous food court known simply as benteng. Often I would walked to Pasar Road, it was no Abercrombie and Fitch but it was always bustling with activities and the prices reasonable provided you know to haggle over prices. I remembered a Malay lady who sold nasi lemak (or nasi uduk in Indonesia). It was very delicious and the prices resasonable.

Sukabumi versus Sukajadi

Above video from UTube diurik (plucked) as my preamble to script below. I used to insert snippets of song in the right column of this frame but I am going stop or reduce such efforts because it is just to plain and simple and hasn't the advantage of visuals. At the top of the block I invited those visitors to N Razak's blog and stop by and refresh yourself at my blog. I have great admiration for Najib Razak. I truly believe he was a victim of circumstances arising from the constant heckling and cackling from his fat wife who felt the country owes her a living which in her twisted mind is her God given right. As I have said my sympathies go out to the former prime minister of Malaysia and he must be given every right to tell his side of the story.

As I have mentioned countless times about my two year stay in Kuala Lumpur to complete my matriculation called the Higher School Certificate then, and during that short period I was exposed to Malaysian life in the bustling metropolis that was KL. Frankly I have forgotten the names of most of my classmates and only remember a few but I can still recall with total clarity the youthful eager faces as teenagers. I did not have any special friend except for perhaps two, i.e. Dr.Tan Beng Siang and Wong Seng Choy. Both I believe are engineers and Dr. Tan is from the famous Imperial College in London. In hindsight I remember these two gentlemen went out of their way to make me feel at home and for that kindness I am forever grateful to them. They never touched on the theme oh, we are Malaysians and you are only an Indonesian Chinese. I believe both left for England soon after completing their HSC while I left for America. My parents had the notion that the Englishmen were snobbish and tend to look down on people who spoke bad English while the Americans were more easy and friendlier. I think so too when I look back on those years fifty years ago.


For the past two years I have been trying very hard to reconnect with these two individuals but I have hit a dead end. Their names do even appear on social media neither are their names on the public domain. I tried some contacts of the old al mater but they too proved to be false leads. The Victoria Institution then was an exclusive secondary school where only high achievers in sports or academia or both were accepted by the school. This situation is no longer relevant today when the government of Malaysia introduced the New Economic Policy or NEP in short. It is tragic this policy was implemented as the playing field was levelled at the expense of meritocracy. But the shrewd politicians knew there was no other way out if they were to remain in power. It wasn't a masterly move but a move for survival and to ensure the Malay majority remained in power. 

Hence this is the title for my story here. Of course it can be said that the Malaysians got much helping hands from my country Indonesia. Indonesia gave them the blueprint and after some minor tweaks and re-engineering every thing was set to go. 

To project an image predicated on false pretences will not work and eventually the truth will be known.

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