15 May 2009

Pak Cik Reminisces (Pt 7)- 13th May


13th May comes and goes every year. But 40 years ago one 13th May came and is gone forever, leaving an indelible memory of an event – the fateful 13th May 1969 and the few days that followed.

It was a tight 24-hour curfew in and around Kuala Lumpur following the worst racial conflict in our history. One risked being shot at not only by the enforcing miliatry but killed by either of the two warring factions. Kuala Lumpur was a dead city except for the military vehicles.


In those days, a petroleum depot existed strategically in Brickfields area of Kuala Lumpur, now part of the KL Central. Police and military requirements of petrol and diesel oil in Kuala Lumpur were sourced from there. Their vehicles would cease to run the city streets if that small depot stopped to operate. To maintain supplies of oil products from the depot, tank valves would need to be opened, pumps would have to be run, bulk meters to be set, bulk lorries to be moved into position and filled with products, and drivers to take the vehicles to the police and military depots, not to mention the necessary documentation to be prepared.

Pak Cik became a central figure to organise what was needed done. Escorted by police Pak Cik had to fetch a supervisor and a driver from their homes. They in turn fetched a skeleton number of staff. ‘All oil tanks at the police and military depots must never run dry’ was the simple brief Pak Cik had; and that I had to obey without question because the answer was so obvious.


Those were days when hand-phones and computers were no-existent. Using my two fingers I remember typing delivery orders. I remember helping to turn the tank valves and operate the pumps. All basic knowledge had to be put into practice, like it or not. With a few staff we managed to keep oil supplies going. Pak Cik was privileged to have a special pass to break the curfew. I became an unwilling key personnel, driving a company van with its logo (for safety identification?) along the deserted roads of KL, fearing that I would not be mistakenly shot at by the police or the ‘enemies’ whoever they were in those few initial tumultuous days.

I remember it too well the time I drove alone along the narrow end of the deserted Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman, feeling eerie, fearing that an unknown 'enemy'would choose to take a pot shot at me from one of the upstairs windows. I had no wish to be a dead hero.

Pak Cik find it hard to forget the morning when a member of my staff came up to me all shaken up. “I was nearly stabbed to death,” he began to relate his frightening experience. He was a young Malay with very fair skin. He could pass for a Chinese. At one point along the Federal Highway his car was stopped by an angry Malay mob who wanted to kill him. He tried and tried in vain to convince them that he was a Malay. Only the utterance of ‘dua syahadah’, his last recourse, won him his freedom.

Pak Cik can carry on reminiscing about the 13th May 1969 but it is all mine, meaningful only to me. There are books written on this. Pak Cik would only want to leave you, ex-Almanar pupils with one question that I will ask and answer it myself.

“Do you want to go through all that over again, Pak Cik?”

“No, once is too many.”

P.S. Photos courtesy of May 13, 1969 - Truth and Reconciliation



Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

5 comments:

GUiKP said...

In the late 80s, when my company asked all of us to return home after a shooting "spree" incident in Chow Kit (?), a lot of people thought another May 13 was in the making.

Talking about the company logo or mere mention of it, I must admit in my early 20s, I was an impatient driver and was reprimanded by the police traffic countless times. In the interogation, interestingly, I was invariably asked "Encik kerja mana?", and after dropping the bombshell, I got off scot free. Why?

Thank you for sharing.

Al-Manar said...

GUiKP
I am not wrong to maintain that your father has a memory like an elephant, casually droping a similar date when he hears of a date, a person, a happening, a place etc when he hears of one. He is the last candidate to earn the title of 'an absent-minded professor'!
And dropping that 'bombshell' in my blog is too subtle and close for comfort!
Salaam

Zendra said...

I (then 15) was safe at home when it erupted but hubby (16) was with his best friend, Bock Lim, happily cycling round the mining pools somewhere in KL. Off course their respective parents were frantic when they took their time coming home that day, after deciding it was too late to check out what was causing the plumes of black smoke rising round the city.

You were part of the supplies platoon Sheikh, AWESOME! My late father had to see to the communications infra. Every morning he was fetched by a police car to go to his office.

But us kids had a break from school!

Al-Manar said...

Zendra
Oldies like your dad (yarhamuhullah)and I had our shares of danger and excitement while you and your hubby enjoyed your school break. Is there any wonder,therefore, when today we see a common object in two different perspectives?- generation gap!

the principal said...

tq for your comment in my blog. Didnt notice it until recently.