Welcome and Selamat Datang to the Al-Manar Trust Blog. We hope to provide information on our activities, our students past and present.
***** BERKHIDMAT KERANA TUHAN UNTUK KEMANUSIAAN *****
This is Pakcik’s 300th posting for Almanar website, the first being on 20.7.2006, six years ago to day to be exact. This year also marks the 21st year since the private Alamanar trust was established in 1992. I sit reminiscing and decide to share with my dear visitors.
It all began with the end of my 30 years of working life. For several reasons I was very pleased that all had gone well with my family and our life in general. The burning question was whether, without a pension, we would survive on whatever saving (EPF and shares) and gratuity money I received. The answer was positive on condition we would slow down on our social activities which we had been enjoying over the years. Instead of being active members to three premier golf clubs it was time to call it a day and hang my clubs for good. For the good life we had had expressed our gratitude by establishing a small family trust fund for charity activities.
In particular I was delighted that my other half gave her consent that we moved our home away from Kuala Lumpur to another location where we would manage a simpler life, and in so doing we would leave our children in KL to fend for themselves without our interference with their family life. They had to learn to do what we had to thirty years earlier, raising them to be what they were. We have to show them that life goes beyond being of service to own family but to the community around us.
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A year before we finally decided to leave KL I started looking for a piece of land in Kuala Terengganu. As chance would have it, I met an old school mate who was now a known personality in the village and who belonged to a landed family. When questioned for my purpose to settle in this quiet locality I casually mentioned that I would want to help local children. His spontaneous action surprised me. Without much further thought he showed me six plots of land from which I was free to choose. I decided on two pieces of land, each measuring one acre. One has a sea frontage.
Further surprise was waiting for me when he insisted that I named my price, putting me in a very difficult position. But I did and he accepted with a smile.
Sadly, that dear friend passed away several years ago. Today, it is a normal practice at Almanar that the children would recite Alfatihah for this dear man and for other individuals who had a hand in the growth of this humble one-man tuition centre.
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When I started writing the Introduction to this blog on 20.7.2006, I only had a vague idea that this was going to be some kind of notes of events related to Almanar tuition centre which was beginning to show some progress. Blogging was Greek to me, but my three children relentlessly persuaded this old horse to post in blog instead of merrily using pen and pencil, the habit I acquired during my school days.
Gift from my children - Old fashioned brfitting the intended user!
I am glad I started. Six years today I have managed to post an average of 50 entries per year, making this the 300th posting. A very pleasant surprise, something I never bargained for, is the emergence of visitors who care to leave comments at a modest average of 10 per month. It is so unlike my school boy diaries. But of course the latter is full of ‘secrets’ which I would not wish my grandchildren to read! So I need to be wary of the fact I cannot put down in blog entries what can the privacy of my secret diaries.
Part of my treasured possession – Not for public viewing!
Be that as it may, responses from readers give me cheers and encouragement when my Almanar tuition is not going as expectation. On a number of occasions I became so disheartened that I wished to call it a day. But messages from my visitors seemed to tell this old horse to buck up and keep pushing forward.
But at this age, being a septuagenarian, how much time do I have to enjoy the sight of the autumn leaves?
Pakcik’s previous entry drew a number of comments. The one from Awang Goneng (copied below) touched on points very pertinent to learning of English language.
“Way to go Abang Ngah! I am happy to hear about your planned collaboration with a local university. The problem nowadays is not the quantity of teaching but the quality. Our children have lost their language skills but there are more opportunities for language learning around them. People say there's too much Malay nowadays, but there's too much English too. More and more government departments are writing in English, more people in public are speaking in English and there are many, many television programmes in English. Language learning isn't just vocabulary building or learning the mechanics of grammar. It is more than that. Children should read and love reading. They should listen and love listening. In short, they should love the language they are learning. Literature is kicked by the wayside nowadays and language is pushed into slots. English for Science, English for this English for that. Teaching English as English seems to be a futile exercise. Give them back the love of literature, the sounds of words.”
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While Awang Goneng laments briefly over the teaching and usage of English language I am using this avenue to express my concern on the same subject:
i ) - Would the few hundred teachers imported from America be of help to the likes of the poor rural children who attend classes at Almanar?
ii ) - Assuming our teachers have been suitably trained to teach English as a means to communicate and a tool to search for knowledge, are they at liberty to use their skill to the full or are they being restricted to doggedly and blindly follow what the demigods of education upstairs have outlined?
iii ) - Have the heads of schools been trained to MANAGE an organisation rather than to teach; and if so have they got the leeway to exercise discretion to suit the problems faced in their varied environments?
iv) -Seeing what has been the excessive emphasis on RECORDs of straight ‘A’ at state as well as at school level, should we not, for a change, see highlights of the number and percentage of pupils achieving nothing beyond ‘D’ and ‘E’?Not long ago, the percentage of the group of pupils in this low category at one school reached as high as 30% in one PMR exam. That is very telling isn’t it?
v) – Does the introduction of a subject like EST ( English for Science and Technology) reflect deficiency in our English as a subject?
vi) – Instead of hard copies, blackboard and chalks, must we encourage the use of computing technology to the extent that a teacher can leave the pupils on their own in class?
vii) – Are the text books used for teaching English up to standard?Is it acceptable, for instance, that poems and short stories by Malaysians are translated into English and used as parts of introduction to English literature? Are we making our children learn English literature or learn to be proud of ‘Malaysia boleh’?
I have these questions playing in my head from time to time for so many years when I keep seeing with despair at the attainment of many kampong children coming for help at Almanar.
I will not forget what Awang Goneng once mentioned to Pakcik how the problem of poor children at the bottom classes in schools of a neighbouring country was tackled. The method was so successful that teachers would scramble to teach bottom classes! But we are too proud to be a ‘copycat’. With Malaysia Boleh we should not be surprised when Malaysian engineers are soon required to reinvent the wheel!
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To Awang Goneng.
Mi, I may have been unnecessarily critical. I may have raised some eyebrows among my readers. But in the environments I happen to live in, on top of growing old, I have my frustrations.
Weary of a possibility that this entry might be construed as an attempt to highlight self importance, Pakcik will have to be as brief as possible.
I cannot help waking up to the reality that this year marks an important milestone in my journey through time. Twenty years ago Pakcik had to vacate a cosy chair with an employer that I had been closely associated with for thirty five years of my life. I owe them my tertiary education and I owe them material gains and experience in building the life of my family. At the end of that milestone we were gratified to witness our three birds leaving their nest, and the two of us left contented to begin unhindered the final part of our journey. That was 30 years ago.
We were ready for our ‘hijrah’; in location, modes of living, devoid of clubs and partying, and, above all, the activities which preoccupy. Sadly we had to part with many very close friends and relatives, including our own children.
Two years later I chose a new career, one which the pair of these old birds would not expect any material gains. And now, eighteen years past the bridge in time, we are happy that, without any lingering doubts, we had Almanar launched. In its humble way Almanar shares the pride of seeing some deserving children from this small community progressing ahead in education, one that could bring gains to their respective families; as briefly sketched in our ‘End of the Tunnel’ series.
The very recent siting of a home for orphans and children of needy families by the authority has presented Almanar a new challenge. The present number of children living in this new home, a stone’s throw away, is about 80 children and very soon it will increase to about 100. Sadly, these children, resulted from shortcomings in years of upbringing them, have little inclination towards education. This is an added challenge which Pakcik have neither time nor expertise to deal with.
It is very fortunate that we have been offered an opportunity to open a discussion with representives from a university with the view of implementing a small project loosely called ‘transfer of knowledge from university to community’. I am hoping against hope that a new era will open in a not-too-distant future when members from that university will make programmed visits to Almanar to deal with motivation aspects of these children. It will surely mark a new milestone in time for Almanar.
On a slightly wider perspective, if the above-mentioned project truly gets underway successfully, I would like schools around us to take advantage of this new university-Almanar venture; instead of the current tendency among certain groups in the schools to look with scorn and doubts at what benefits Almanar could offer to their pupils.
Year in and year out in my life I continue to see the passing of August to September. The arrival of September heralds the soon-to-come Monsoon rain.
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September in the rain
(Dinah Washington)
“The leaves of brown Came tumblin' down, remember In September in the rain
The sun went out Just like a dying ember That September in the rain
To every word of love I heard you whisper The raindrops seemed to play A sweet refrain
Though spring is here, To me it's still September That September in the rain
To every word of love I heard you whisper The raindrops seemed to play A sweet refrain
Though spring is here, To me it's still September That September in the rain That September in the rain” ____________________
September was the month I came into being three quarters of a century ago. I wonder whether it was raining then or bright sun-shine.
Now we have yet again left August behind and are moving towards the end of September 2011. These two months have brought Pakcik and Makcik a mixture of sadness and joy. Between the two of us we saw the last of five elderly relatives and a close friend, a very heavy toll in two months; and we have not yet seen the end of the month. We pray all will be well, until the next August, for us to celebrate another anniversary, and another birthday for Makcik; and the next September, another birthday for me. Makcik is just about to recover from the pain of having lost her only aunt and the aunt’s elder sister, Makcik’s own mother.
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There is nothing magical about the months of August and September. However, the series of unhappy events which the two of us have to face during these two months prompted Pakcik to pick up one of my old diaries. Somehow that of 1956 was a natural choice. It was a very special year, not just a milestone to mark a distance covered, but a cornerstone to mark a prominent spot in time. It was in that very year I was allowed to realise a shift in the direction to one I was destined to head for.
I am looking at the year of 1956 from a different perspective, not just moments of joy and pain. On one part that year happened to be a year of discovery, when for the very first time I was made to explore life outside that I had been accustomed to until then. On the other part, the year carried a number of early academic successes, meaningful and important enough to chart my future.
In this posting I will explain why I have named 1956 'a year of discovery'. Insya Allah, in due course I will write another to give the other aspect of 1956.
I am fortunate to have kept diaries and carefully noted down what happened and how I felt at the point of writing. Today these entries bring to life what memory alone has begun to wear out in time. As I am reading the entries now, all seems like a playback of a video, uncannily real, despite a lapse of 55 years in time zone.
My 1956 diary
In my earlier posting, Pakcik reminisces (Pt 11), I described my maiden journey from Kuala TREngganu (note the original spelling, TRE…) to the far-away capital of MALAYA, Kuala Lumpur, with all its famous shopping areas along Batu Road, Mountbatten Road and so on. Till today I still call those two roads by their original names which are more meaningful to me (a sentimental old fool, maybe!). Through my mind's eye, I still see pictures of rows upon rows of shops no higher than two-storey buildings. And the Robinsons which drew mainly the elites.
That very first long bus ride to the Malayan capital in early January 1956 was a discovery expedition, a full two-day journey by bus. T here were seven of us. It sounds strange if I say that it was not just the seven of us who rode in the bus but the bus itself took a ride on a ferry on seven occasions along the journey. There were indeed seven rivers to cross en route to Kuala Lumpur. As the ferries were operated only during daylight, the journey required two whole days with a half-way stopover to spend the night.
Before the bus was driven up the ferry, all passengers (for safety reasons, of course!) had to step down. I do not recall being provided with life jackets or being advised what to do in case of emergency. I guess, as there was no record of serious incidents, safety measures were not deemed necessary. Standing on the ferries beside the empty bus was an experience for us. Maneuvering a ferry against the swirling current, which was pushing hard against one side of it, demanded skill and experience among the ferrymen. And there we stood in wonder whether the ferry would reach the exact landing spot across the river. It never failed. And watching the dark water around us, we wondered if there were crocodiles following us below the surface. The picture would be different if the ferry crossing was outside the rainy spells of a monsoon season, when the rivers flowed smoothly and everything seemed beautifully peaceful.
So the long bus ride was indeed an adventure for the seven of us, watching apprehensively at the strong current.
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My ‘expedition’ to Kuala Lumpur, on 27th January, was just a start for the year. I was to join the Post School Certificate class (Form 6). During the course of the next eight months the sitution changed. In the evening of Friday 7th September I took a night train from KL station traveling second class to Singapore. That was an uneventful twelve-hour journey in the dark to reach Tg Pagar railway station, sadly closed down for good recently, at eight in the morning of the following day.
Then at 8.30 in the morning of Sunday 9th September I boarded a turbo-prop plane, leaving Singapore on the greatest ‘expedition’ of my life. I was heading west towards ‘negeri orang puteh’ (the white men’s country). After an eventful journey I finally set foot on the English soil.
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Reading my entries about the journey, I can feel the great excitement and expectation. The kampong boy, just turned twenty, had left many things behind; his mother and ailing father and grandmother, his familiar environments, his friends, his way of life and above all his earlier dream of going to Al Azhar University for religious and Arabic education. I had now taken a one-way journey along a new path heading for a new destination.
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Entry on 9th Sept 1956
The plane, before the advent of jet airliners, made four stopovers, Calcutta, Karachi, Beirut and Zurich. In total the number of hours we were in the air, as I meticulously jotted down in my diary, was close to 32 hours. That does not include the number of hours at the airports en route. (One of my children has just returned from his business trip to London. He took less than 12 hours in all to reach KL. How about that for a comparison?)
To make the historic journey of discovery more eventful, the plane to London had to be diverted to a military airfield about 30 miles (50 km) away from Calcutta. It was due bad weather. From there, we were taken by bus to Calcutta airport. That bus-ride itself was another interesting part of the discovery –running along a dusty road of the sub-continent of India. As if that was not enough, the plane was found to have engine trouble, and that caused a delay of another four hours. It was just as well that the fault was discovered while we were on the solid ground.
All in all, it was an exciting journey for this kampong boy, seeing the vast surface of the sea from the sky, admiring the inside of cloud formations and the upper side of the clouds, and watching the desert and the Alps (which I was familiar with from the geography lessons) with it snow-covered tops. There was a one-line entry noting down how air pockets after Zurich nearly made me throw up.
I summarise below the places we stopped and the flying time for each sector.
Leaving Singapore at 8.45 am on Sunday 9/9/56
Singapore to Calcutta7 hrs 45 min
CalcuttatoKarachi5,,45,,
KarachitoBeirut8,, 15,,
BeiruttoZurich7,, 50,,
ZurichtoLondon2,,20 ,,
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Total flying time 31 hr55 min
Arriving London at 9.30 pm on Monday 10/9/56
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Indeed, the kampong boy had his year of discovery.
The ‘discoveries’ alone are not all the reason that made 1956 a milestone, a cornerstone and a prominent landmark in my early years. A number of early academic successes resulted in my change of direction. 1956 was the year I reached a fork on my path, where I chose one, knowing I could never go back to take the road not taken (reflection of Robert Frost's poem, The Road not Taken). HE had it all planned for me, for which I can never thank HIM enough but to serve HIM with humility whilst there is still daylight.
Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan
P/SInsya Allah Pakcik will have another posting on the personal successes of 1956.
More than 70 years ago a sweet sixteen was married to a young teacher, and two years later the couple was blessed with a baby girl. So much adored, being the very first, the baby was given a pet named, Ning. Following that came two baby boys.
When Ning was nine, the family of five moved to England where the father was appointed a lecturer at a Teachers’ training college. Ning continued her primary education at a primary school with local English children.
Leaving for England - for a better future
Three years later the young lecturer left England and became a lecturer at a university in Singapore.
Everything was seen to go well with the family who, by then, had a second daughter.
But it was not all sunshine and rainbows.
At the age of 39, barely one year after taking up his new post, and a few months before celebrating the Merdeka of Tanah Melayu in 1957, the lecturer passed away.
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So at 34, the lady, Ning’s loving mother became a single mother and was left alone to raise the four young kids. The loss of her father affected Ning’s progress in education. She had to work soon after finishing school. And the mother chose to remain faithful to the memory of her deceased husband, remaining a single mother all her life. Her first real reward was when her adored Ning was married and, a year later, gave birth to three children, who in turn had ten children who were,naturally, the old lady’s great-grandchildren – a new generation.
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So life went on for good many years. The once sweet sixteen was now 88, a great-grand-mother. In April this year she fell ill, but life went on for Ning who has now taken over the role of a grand lady – or should I say the ‘first lady’!
Before the 30th day of last month, the very special month of August, Ning’s three children had planned a special gathering to be held at our home, Nuri, in Terengganu. There was something special about August 2011; firstly, there was Ning’s (and Pakcik’s too, of course) 47th wedding anniversary. Then there were two wedding anniversaries of our first two children, making it three wedding anniversaries in all. There was also the Merdeka anniversary on 31th August. Then there was Hari Raya which fell on 30th, all in the same month of August.
But that was not all. Tuesday 30th was not just any Hari Raya. It was also Ning’s 70th birthday. So, for all intents and purposes, that day ought to be a befitting day of the month to celebrate – (not to mention Pakcik’s own birthday which would fall three days later – just into September.)
As planned, the Hari Raya started all too well with the birthday and delayed wedding anniversaries cakes and all. And that being a Hari Raya, soon after ‘sembahyang Raya’, relatives and friends began to call in – the promise of a wonderful and joyous day.
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Disangka panas sampai kepetang, rupanya hujan ditengah hari.
While things were warming up and the family gathered to take group photographs, Ning received a phone call from her sister near Tanjong Malim. Their bed-ridden mother had just passed away. Was this not a divine planning that the faithful wife, the grand old lady chose to breathe her last at the age of 88, on a Hari Raya, on the very exact day, 70 years earlier she gave birth to her first child, Ning? Just imagine how Ning would feel, celebrating her birthday and the Hari Raya to be followed with the death of a very loved one.
It was perfect – the work of the Greatest Planner of all.
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So, Pakcik has lost two loving mothers. Fifty years ago my mother passed away while doing her pilgrimage in Mecca. I do not, as a result, have her grave to visit. Then this loving lady, who had been my mother, left us on that very auspicious day of 30th August.
On hearing the sad news, Pakcik made a snap decision to stop our part in the day’s celebration. The next seven hours of Hari Raya saw me driving on a relatively quiet route. We reached the burial ground when the last group was leaving the freshly made grave covered with flowers. There we squatted with tears running down our faces, reciting Al Quran, marking the end of our Hari Raya. We had to stop as the sun had gone down behind range of hills.
The final destination
We planned and planned, and we often forget who the Ultimate Planner is. HE reminds us over and over again in the Quran of HIS overall power ABOVE EVERYTHING.
In August 1963 Martin Luther King.Jr. said in his famous speech, “ I have a dream.”
That was 48 years ago at about the same time Pakcik, too, had a dream. I wanted a partner in life to share my pains and joys
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"When I was young,
I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart
what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows,
day after day
Here's what my sweetheart said
Que Sera, Sera,
What will be will be." ---------------------
And in August of the following year He granted my wish.
-------------- What lies ahead ?
However, one wakes up from a dream into another – But now it was no longer MY dream but OUR dream.
--------- We had our first princess
We had our first child to call our own. Then the dream continued.
My three ‘princesses’ ( EJ on the Princess Vandan Plas stands for East Malaysia Jesselton- Before Kota Kinabalu).
Three years later came our second, a hero.
----------------- Now we had two
We had a pair. But the dream did not end. Greedy, we wanted more. And HE granted us.
------------ With a princess and two heroes
Then He made it known to us through a gynecologist that we should ask for no more or else ....
We grew as a happy family. The children were big enough to entertain dreams of their own, surely.
--------- Togetherness - one happy family
Humans we were, we began to dream of acquiring ‘datukship’. And for that He has granted us ten - six heroes and four princesses.
--------------------- This is number ten to give us 'Datukship".
Will there be more? We have stopped dreaming.
Sooner or later we have to come to terms with what HE says:
---------------- Surah Alkahf
"Wealth and children are the ornament of this life ….. "
We have had most of what we dreamt for. Today, 47 years down the road our dream is simply that He grants us more days so that we can acquire more children, no longer our own but those who need love and care, the unfortunate.
--------------------- Orphans and of poor parents
Let us give these children a fighting chance to have a dream.
Thank you and good bye. What a simple headline for a sensational newspaper. And on Sunday 10th July 2011 the curtain fell on the News of the World an old British Sunday newspaper that had survived since 1843 - 168 years in print!
“So what ?” one might ask. Indeed it does mean something to me. It is one of those items in my life that stretch my memory back, this time, to half a century ago.
An innocent young Malay lad was transported away from home to settle in an English home with lads from five other countries but Malaya; from Iraq, South Africa, India, Peru, and a working man from North Ireland. And the landlady who looked after the house and cooked for them was an elderly lady from Scotland, Mrs Robertson, a widow. At first the Malay lad thought at least he had for company a fellow Muslim from Iraq. He had that impression when during their conversation the Iraqi stated the best Arabic text is in the Quran. At the breakfast table came the surprise. The Iraqi seemed to be enjoying his bacon and egg! He turned out to be a Christian. Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the house, called ‘digs’, was one of friendliness. In the morning they trouped out on their bicycles heading for the same college, and every evening they met at the same dining table, the early arrival trying to secure one of the chairs with coal fire burning hot at the back. Oh, what a pleasure it was to come in from the cold to warm the palms of you hands in front of the fire!
It was those early days the Malay lad began to get acquainted with English newspapers. The Times was a heavy reading. But people would steal a look at you if you carried one. The young lad settled for Manchester Guardian, politically known to lean towards the opposition party of that time.
Then on Sundays there was the News of the World. What a paper that was, concentrating and specializing in sex scandals in lurid details. The lad never had that sort of eye-opener back home in Utusan Melayu (in jawi). This was exciting beyond words. However it did not take for him to learn that people read this paper on the quiet but showed expression of distain towards people who read it. ‘Wasn’t this a form of hypocrisy?’ the boy often wondered. Half a century ago, the standard of morality in the mass media was still conservative. So, quite naturally, the lad began to learn how not to show his liking for that Sunday paper. Fold the paper and tuck it nicely in the inner pocket of your overcoat. And every few days or so, flash your copy of Manchester Guardian. That did the trick. That was, indeed, a sign of sophistication in that boy from Malaya, some of whom thought was located in Singapore!
So, on the quiet I enjoyed News of the World, making doubly sure that I showed my liking for Manchester Guardian – but I truly did enjoy both.
It is a shame the paper has to go. But nothing lives forever, I suppose. Even my Manchester Guardian has lost its Manchester.
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( B ) The man I knew.
Having freshly seen the end of a ‘great’ newspaper I was saddened to read the demise of a person I used to know well. Raja Aziz Addruse, the three-time Bar Council president. He passed away on Tuesday, 12th July. I have not seen him the last twenty years. The last time we had a chit chat was at the Lake Club when my family used to frequent that very special club in KL.
Raja Aziz was in UK about the same as I was (the time I was enjoying the News of the World ). At the same time my old class-mate of ’55 was also in UK doing his law. The latter was Tan Sri Wan Adnan who showed his brilliance in breezing through his course in two years when others laboured for three. Sadly he passed away prematurely, just one short sure step to take over the topmost post of he judiciary.
In the early ’60, our bachelor days, the three of us used to share a room on top of a shop house on Jalan Traverse, KL. Imagine how close we were then. But our careers brought us adrift, though Wan Adnan, and his family, remained close right to the end.
We shared a lot in common. We enjoyed the same age and were shipped to the same country to study. Today,of the three, I am the only one left behind, to reminisce and say my prayers and AlFatihah in memory of their valued friendship. I no longer need to remind myself that nothing, no one lives FOREVER, in all its majesty and glory.
The much celebrated surah Al Rahman has this to remind me.
“All that lives on earth is doomed to die. But the Face of your Lord will abide FOREVER, in all its majesty and glory” - Dawood
The day was Sunday 15th May, 2011, and the time was almost 11.00 pm. Earlier I had put down my autographed copy of AMOT and I was beginning to get absorbed in the second chapter of ‘A Doctor in the House’.
“Abang, come and watch this old film with me.” I stopped reading to ask what film that was - on TV2.
“It’s To Sir, with love,” came her reply.
Not for one moment I hesitated to put down my book to watch this film for the umpteenth time, our favourite. We first saw the film way back in 1967, 45 years ago, in a town named JESSELTON, the capital of the state Negeri Di Bawah Bayu. We had not long been married with only our two-year old daughter with us. I was sent to serve in ‘Borneo’ for about four years, almost the whole of the early years of our married life. Away from the rest our respective families we had a chance to build our own life without interference, casting the marital love the way we would want it to take shape. It was then Sidney Poitier’s ‘To Sir, with Love’, with Lulu singing the hit song, was first screened.
It was not just the very touching story and the beautiful lyrics but the very title itself evoked so much memory of our family life, blessed with love and affection.
------------------ To Sir, with Love ( See p/s at the foot )
Those schoolgirl days, of telling tales and biting nails are gone, But in my mind, I know they will still live on and on, But how do you thank someone, who has taken you from crayons to perfume? It isn't easy, but I'll try,
If you wanted the sky I would write across the sky in letters, That would soar a thousand feet high, To Sir, with Love
The time has come, For closing books and long last looks must end, And as I leave, I know that I am leaving my best friend, A friend who taught me right from wrong, And weak from strong, That's a lot to learn, What, what can I give you in return?
If you wanted the moon I would try to make a start, But I, would rather you let me give my heart, To Sir, with Love
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The film ended this morning, 16th May, at 1.00 a.m. Before my tears ran dry I decided to write this, because I thought it was not inappropriate to have this posted on the Teachers’ Day. To Sir, With Love is forever to me a beautiful song and a beautiful film that tells about a teacher. After all, in our own ways, we are all teachers in our lives. -----------
P.STHE SONG
Here is a video of Pakcik's grandson's UPSR ceremony held a few years ago . It was his last day in the primary school. The video : Convocation 2007 ( To Sir, With Love in the background)
Apart from the Great Planner/Creator Himself, to Whom we all owe absolutely everything, I owe this gentleman more than he can ever imagine, and I am forever indebted to him.
Picture taken 60 years ago, of one young man who had begun to learn that there were different roads in life.
He is now an aged gentleman, well into his 80’s, with frequent lapses of memory, but, otherwise, physically well. Sixty years ago he had a vision that his younger brother ought to be equipped better than he had been, to face a future. In so doing he became instrumental in sending his brother on a ‘road less traveled.’ Subhanallah.
Picture taken nearly 60 years ago of one cheerful boy with dreams of a bed of roses.
So, on Friday evening, Jan 4th 1952 with smattering of English learnt in afternoon classes I joined the evening classes at a private school, hoping that, by the end of the same year, I would have learnt sufficient English to be admitted to the only government English school in the state of Terengganu, Sultan Sulaiman English School (SSES). Whilst proficiency in English was never a necessity for one to further his studies in Cairo, it had, for unexplainable reasons, suddenly grown in importance in my case- the work of an unseen hand.
The morning classes at the religious school (MSZA) went well in 1952. Today I relate to my children with pride how their father completed a seven-year course at MSZA in five years, something unheard of until then. The two years saved was a gift from heaven without which I would never have an earthly chance to join the government English School. The age alone would put a stop to it and I would very likely be on a long boat journey to Egypt (Gaddafi would be a boy of about 12 then!) to join my other school mates.
I had to satisfy three conditions to join SSES viz,
i) Joining a class appropriate with my age group. ii) Possession of a leaving certificate to show proof of acceptable level of English education. iii) Passing an entrance test in two subjects, English and Maths.
AS mentioned above, the two-year credit the religious school was a blessing. I could be pegged to join Form 3.
The first condition satisfied, I was left with the impossible task of meeting the other two. It was simply impossible. How could one own a certificate when he had never sat for the exam? How could one pass a test for admission into Form 3 after a year’s study in the evenings.
What then? Could we do it by-hook-or-by-crook principle? Should we change the rule of the game so that crooked means justify honourable ends?
Yes, apply the ‘darurah’ (sheer emergency) rule and all should be legal!
Today I live to marvel at how with five ringgits (mind you, that was in 1952!) I became a proud owner of a leaving school certificate that came from someone/somewhere, the details of which transactions best left undisclosed. The certificate categorically stated that I had passed Form 2 in all subjects. This satisfied condition (ii)
Having achieved to satisfy the second condition, we began to work on good ‘human relation’ practices – one must cultivate the skill of intimately knowing who and who. This town was a small town where almost every one was connected to everyone else by blood or whatever. So it was not all that difficult
The long and short of it I was discreetlygiven a chance to study the test questions while everyone's eyes were closed. Armed and well prepared, on Monday, Jan 13th (lucky number!)1953, as recorded in my diary, I sat for the entrance test and with sheer brilliance I DID IT!
------------------- And so, as recorded in my diary, on Sunday ( Fridays being weekend in the state) Jan 18th, 1953, I joined one of the two Form 3 classes at SSES, coy with inferiority, to be with a group of about 30 pupils consisted of Malay, Chinese and Indian boys and pretty girls. And the English teacher was an elegant English lady (in knee-length skirt!) named Mrs Patton. This was my first taste of ‘culture shock’.
How I envied my new friends, seeing them socializing with ease, and merrily conversing in English among themselves and with teachers. And I, in the course of the next few weeks, was a laughing stock when I, with sheer ignorance, read aloud certain words like ‘stomach, rhythm, volume’ etc (pronounced sto maach, raai m, vo luum etc) like an Arab!
However, it did not take long before I began to get on very well with them, albeit keeping my safe distance from the opposite sex. And, soon, I began to be myself again, a serious and determined fellow.
A dream is just another dream
Circumstances and new atmosphere created new ideas, new aspirations and new dreams.
In those days Bukit Besi in Dungun, if one studied geography as a subject, was known as having the world largest tin mine. Those who managed to be employed by the company operating the mine were seen as especially privileged people, earning good salaries and all, against the backdrop of farmers, petty traders, fishermen and so on in the state.
‘It would be nice to be a mining engineer working in Bukit Besi’, a seed of a new dream began to germinate to rival that of a graduate from Al Azhar university.
The following three years saw me being carried forward by my own momentum. All went on so well that I found it hard to step on my brake. It was just what Frost said:
‘ …….. Yet knowing how way leads on to way I doubted if I should ever come back.’
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Five of these seven musketerrs (1956) have sadly gone
Early 1956 saw me taking a two-day bus ride with a group of friends heading for KL, my first ever trip (Pakcik reminisces – Pt 11), to join the Higher School Certificate Class at two prestigious schools having ‘Mat Salleh’ principals, teachers and all; but at a price. Must I join my new non-Muslim classmates in the school chapel on Monday mornings (me, the product of a religious school with a headful of Quranic verses)? - more cultural shocks
I was beginning to come to terms with who and what I was in life – and more to come.
Just as I was settling down nicely in KL, getting acquainted with the busy Batu Road, Malacca Street, the week-end ‘pesta’ at Lake Garden nearby, the marvel of Robinsons departmental store, and my new hostel life of course, I came yet to another fork , two roads diverged in a yellow wood.’
One morning I was summoned to see the school principle who asked me whether I would be interested to be nominated a candidate for interviews with a multinational company which was offering two scholarships to boys in MALAYA. Successful candidates would be packed overseas to do an accelerated one-year A-Level course followed by a four-year tertiary education; and, all being well, would need to serve the company for a specific number of years somewhere on earth.
A new challenge; but what became of my earlier dream, a prosperous engineer mining this good earth?
Subsequently I did attend a series of interviews, only soon to be advised that two Chinese boys from other schools had topped the list. That ought to be my first bitter taste of appointment. But was it really?
Look at the opening page of my 1953 diary.
from 1953 diary
The highlighted words coined in Arabic told me on no uncertain terms : Never cease to expect His bounty. So as early as three years earlier I instinctively forewarned myself that life was not going to be a bed of roses. Be prepared and never cease to expect better things to come.
But there was an unexpected twist of event. Hardly two weeks later, came an official from the multinational company to my hostel. He was a bearer of good news that one of the two successful candidates had failed his medical check-up. Would I accept it or was I too proud to be just a stand-by? God works in mysterious ways. I did not win it but someone lost his chance by default. With little thought I made up my mind to go for it, knowing fully well that
‘I doubted if I should ever come back’
Accordingly, in early Sept 1956 I bade farewell to my parents, leaving behind a dream of the revered posts of an Al Azhar graduate and the prestigious position of a mining engineer. As Robert Frost said:
“I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence Two roads diverging in a wood, and I, I took one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.” ------------------------ I will end this posting with one saying that I learnt some 60 years ago, one that I do not expect to forget ever. It came from an early Islamic thinker/philosopher (before Imam AlGhazali), Yahya ibn Muaz Al Razi. He once said:
Yahya Ibn Muaz Al Razi
A person who truly understands and knows who and what he is, is indeed, one who knows who his Creator is.
Today I know better who and what I am, my weaknesses, strengths, failures, successes and how I have been led from one path to another less traveled one; and I think I know HIM better.
And today whenever I raise my two hands, I never fail to say in whatever little Arabic that I learnt sixty years ago, “My God. I thank You for the very life You have given me, and for giving me a wife, children, sustenance, knowledge ………”
Almanar Trust The Almanar Trust (Amanah Almanar) was established in 1992 by the family of Hassan Abdul-Karim from Kuala Terengganu. The aim of this small private body is to provide academic support to deserving individuals who have slipped through the formal channels due to various circumstances.
