The Story of My Life

THE STORY OF MY LIFE
The Story of Tok
AHMAD HASSAN
The views and opinions expressed in this book are the author’s own and
the facts are as reported by him. All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced or utilised in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission from
the author.
© Ahmad Hassan 2023
Written by Ahmad Hassan in 1995

Edited by Soraya Azhar and Azman Ahmad
Cover design by Johan Jaafar
Printed in July 2023
To my beloved wife, children, daughters-in-law, grandchildren,
grandchildren-in-law and great-grandchild
1 January 1995
This is not a diary.

I’ve always wanted to write or to put in writing, about my life. Some of my
close friends have suggested that I write about the many things that I’ve
done, especially about my ideas and experiences. To tell the truth, I don’t
know how to do it. Some suggested that I just write what I think – forget
about style, forget about whether it’s good or bad – just write! That’s exactly
what I’m going to do. Each day, I’m going to write something about my
past, my experience, and what I believe in.
I’ve just had my heart by-pass operation. It was done on 1 November
1994 in Adelaide, Australia. One big thing I learnt from this experience is
that I become more vulnerable as I grow older. I also notice that there are
people who do care for me when I am sick. One such person, above all
others, is my wife. She has given me all the support, all the care, all the
attention, and everything that a ‘sick me’ needs. Without her, my
recuperating days would be difficult. I’m also grateful to and feel proud of
my two sons who have stood strongly behind the family during my time
and difficulties.
THE STORY OF MY LIFE |1

2 January 1995
It has been two months since I had my heart by-pass operation. I feel well
and hope to be able to return to work soon. I feel that I’ve been away from
my school too long. This is not good. I fear that the longer I’m away from
the school the sooner people will forget me. It’s not that I don’t want to be
forgotten but I still have a lot to do for the school to make it the way I’ve
always believed a school should be. To do this, I must be there with the
staff to at least guide and inspire them. I also need their trust and belief in
me.
My involvement in education started when I went to Brinsford
Lodge Malayan Teachers’ college near Wolverhampton, England, in August
1955. When I was in school I never thought that I was going to be a teacher.
Among other things, I wanted to be an entertainer, a singer maybe; thus my
involvement in talentimes, stage shows, music bands, etc, when I was in
school. Yes, I even had the opportunity to sing with Saloma. Of course, at
that time, she was not known as ‘Saloma’ but plain Salmah Ismail. I was
then in the company of some local music professionals and film stars and
was very proud of it. Anyway, as fate wanted for me, I turned out to be a
teacher and I can assure you, I have never regretted it! I love teaching!
2 | AHMAD HASSAN
3 January 1995
This morning I went to school. I only stayed for a couple of hours. After
talking to some senior staff, I decided to go home. I asked Rosli, the van
driver, to drive me home in the Peugeot 405 assigned to me. The car had
been left in the school since my illness. The car, somehow, wouldn’t start.
The battery went flat. We had to use Mr. Chin’s car instead.
Talking about cars, I have had quite a few cars since I started
working. My first car was a second-hand Fiat 1100 Millicento, bought in
1958. Although the car was in my name, I shared it with my elder brother
with whom I was staying at that time. I can never forget my first car. To
me, it was a great achievement to own a car because no one in my family
had ever owned a car before. So, you can just imagine how much time and
attention I gave to the car. My second car was a new Volkswagen. I got this
car by trading in my Fiat and paying monthly instalments. At that time
Volkswagen Beetle was the most popular car and I was very happy to own
one, especially when I got it new.
After that, I regularly changed cars. Until now, I have owned an MG
Magnetite, a Borgward Isabella, a Saab (two-stroke engine), a Renault 16, a
Fiat 600, a Toyota Corolla, a Fiat 1400, a Mercedes Benz 200, a Mazda 323,
a Nissan Sunny, a Volvo 244 GL and now a Proton Saga. The Peugeot 405
I’m using now is a staff car. I still remember my car plate numbers:
SS5081, JA9011, JA2626, NB3673, NC4029, BW7157, CD7676,

EJB1245, EJA8334, NE7522, BBK7586, BCJ4246, WT9942, BDL635

4 January 1995
I couldn’t sleep last night. I purposely didn’t take the sleeping pill
‘Dormicum’ given to me, because I wanted to learn to live without it. As a
result, I spent a sleepless night, tossing about in bed with aches and pains
all over my body.
When I was in a hospital in Adelaide, Azhar and Azman gave me a
book called “Insomnia” written by Stephen King. They know that I like
reading Stephen King’s books. The book is about an old man who suffered
from insomnia. His problem is he keeps on waking up earlier and earlier
until he has no sleep at all. My problem now is that I can’t go to sleep. I feel
as if I don’t sleep at all. This problem started after about two weeks of my
return from Australia. To ease my pain, I was given some pain killers;
Capadex, and when this was unavailable here, Tik, my sister-in-law got me
Tramal.
While I was on these painkillers, I had no problem sleeping. For
about two weeks, I had very little sleep and this caused me a lot of aches
and pains all over my body, especially my chest area. I consulted Dr Yahaya
of IJN and he advised me to stay a few days in the hospital so that he could
run some tests. I went in on 28 December 1994 and was discharged on 31
December 1994. While there, I was given half a Dormicum each night and
for the first time, after so many nights, I slept like a log.
4 | AHMAD HASSAN
5 January 1995
I’m back again in the hospital. I got admitted after seeing Dr Lim who
explained the problem that I had regarding my heart operation. This was
also explained to me briefly by Dr Rusli. Although there were two blocked
arteries, two by-passes were done only on one. No explanation was given
in the report as to why no by-pass was done on the other. To see the
condition of my heart now, it is necessary to do another angiogram. It’s
going to be done tomorrow.
When I asked the doctor about the risk factor of such an ‘operation’
(angiogram), she said there’s always a one-thousand-to-one risk of fatality
and one-to-two hundred chance of getting blood clot problems. I told the
doctor that I don’t mind going for the angiogram but if it’s another
operation, I wouldn’t want to do it – not just yet, as the last one was only
two months ago. I’m quite apprehensive about the angiogram and what the
outcome is going to be. I pray to God that everything is going to be all right.

6 January 1995
This morning I was awakened by the urge to go to the loo at about 4:00 am.
After that, I found it difficult to sleep again. I must have dozed off
somehow because when I woke up again, I saw Nurse Gurnam bringing
the Cardiprin that I had to take every morning. It was about 6:30 am. As
part of the preparation for the angiogram which is going to be done at about
9:00 am this morning, the nurse took my blood. Yesterday they took it from
my right hand and today from my left. What if they have to take it again
tomorrow? Where are they going to poke me? The angiogram was not done
at 9:00 am as originally planned but at about noon. It took almost one hour
to complete the job. It was done by Dr Rusli. When the same thing was
done in Australia, I don’t think it took that long and I can’t remember the
elaborate preparation as is done here.
Over here, when I was brought into the special room for the
angiogram (it’s not an OT), they put me on a special table where there were
all the gadgets surrounding it. Above me to the left, was a monitor (TV)
where you can see the inside of you. Directly above me was the camera.
After stripping me bare, the radiographer (a lady) painted me with iodine.
She then covered me, except for the right side of the groin, for the doctor
to do his job. Thank God I didn’t feel a thing while they were probing my
inside!
6 | AHMAD HASSAN
7 January 1995
Dr. Devi, Dr. Rusli, and Dr. Lim, the three cardiologists concerned with the
re-examination of my heart condition, came to explain the findings of
yesterday’s angiogram: only one of the two by-passes was working. The
other one, using the artery from the inside of my chest, is not working. The
one which is working is sufficient to do the job of pumping blood to the
heart. In other words, it’s doing the job and there’s nothing to worry about.
As to the why, nothing was done to the other blocked artery, according to
the doctors, the artery is so fine and it may not be a good idea to do anything
to it. However, I was told that, provided I followed a proper diet and
exercise program, there is no reason why I can’t lead a normal life.
Oh yes, another piece of good news is that my cholesterol level has
gone down to 4.4. It was 7 two weeks ago. The doctors also mentioned that
the pain that I have been experiencing for the past few days, was not from
the heart. It could be from the operation – post-operative pains.
I’m now back home, having been discharged at about noon today.
Earlier, when I told my wife that everything was all right with me and that
I was coming home, she was so delighted. She said that all her prayers have
been answered by Allah. Alhamdulillah.

8 January 1995
ATI
On my return home yesterday, I was told that Ati (Hayati, my brother’s

daughter) was in the hospital (General Hospital) brought over from Johor.
Her previous illness has recurred, and she was in Johor Bahru hospital for
the past so many days. She had been unconscious and still is.
This morning I went to see her and there she was, lying in bed,
oblivious to everything. My heart cried out when I saw her in that condition.
There was nothing I could do except hold her hand and try to call out her
name. The only response I could get from her was some slight movement
in her eyelids and fingers. I pray to God that she will come out of this all
right. Abang and his family came over to the house yesterday evening.
Although he looked calm, I’m sure he was crying inside. Oh God, why must
this thing happen to my beloved brother? Besides Ati, Hamzah, his first son
had just recovered from a strange disease.
Ya Allah ya Tuhanku, ampunilah dosaku dan semua ahli keluargaku yang
ku sayangi dan kasihi. Selamatkanlah kami semua daripada kesiksaan dunia dan
akhirat. Jauhilah kami daripada penyakit yang boleh menderitakan dan berilah kami
semua kesihatan yang baik sentiasa. Ya Allah, perkenankanlah supaya Ati sembuh
dengan segera supaya dapat dia hidup dengan sempurna seperti sedia kala. Amin.
8 | AHMAD HASSAN
9 January 1995
THE CORDLESS PHONE
This morning, I asked Man to drive me to the KUBB offices to settle the
outstanding balance of my ASB loan. I received a letter from them a few
days ago saying that the period of payment for the loan was over but I still
owed them about RM1,700. Today, when I went there to confirm the
amount, the officer had some difficulty locating my file. I was made to wait
for quite a while. After I showed my displeasure, he found my file which
indicated that the outstanding balance was RM1,507.89 and that this
included the deduction of about RM1,300 to be made from PNB, the ASB
headquarters. This meant that I only had to settle about RM300 first, which
I gladly did.
By the time we left the KUBB office, it was lunch time. Since I
wanted to look for the SANYO cordless telephone, I suggested to Man to
go to Sungai Wang Plaza where we could look for the phone and have lunch
there. It had been quite some time since I last went to Sungai Wang Plaza –
maybe a year or more. As usual, the place was crowded. We had lunch at
the Palms – a self-service restaurant that served rather lukewarm (supposed
to be hot) food.
After that, we bought the cordless phone at a photography shop
called FOTOKEM. It costs RM349. I found out later that I could not use
the phone immediately. The battery had to be charged for 12 hours first.

10 January 1995
My appointment with the physiotherapist was at 8:30 this morning. There

were two other patients besides me. The physiotherapist, Hajjah Maimunah,
a rather serious but quite sweet looking lady, told me that they don’t
normally do outpatient cases. When I asked who did them, she said the GH.
However, I’ll be having (continuing) my therapy at the IJN. The whole
process of the therapy didn’t take very long. It was only about 40 minutes
or so.
When I arrived home, the first thing I did was to try out the cordless
telephone I bought yesterday by calling the school. To my delight, it worked
perfectly. This phone was one of the things I have been waiting to buy ever
since I saw its advertisement a few weeks ago. I thought it would be nice to
have a phone that you can carry about the house. After all, it’s not that
expensive. In my life, I have always wanted to own a few material things
that I’ve never had before.
Things like cars, nice house, clothes, etc, have always been objects of
my dream. I dream to have a nice big house with a big compound, a good
car or two and all the gadgets that can make my life, and my family’s,
comfortable and enjoyable. Now, my dream may not have been fulfilled,
but at least I can afford to buy whatever little I want. With the income I get
now, I feel comfortable. At least for certain things, they don’t have to be
just a dream anymore. Alhamdulillah!
10 | AHMAD HASSAN
11 January 1995
CIRCUMCISION
I was about nine and a half or ten years of age when I was circumcised. It
was during the Japanese occupation of Malaya and the war was still on.
Almost every day there were air raids from the Allied planes over Singapore
and parts of Johor Bahru. Whenever there was an air raid, everyone would
run to the bomb shelter which was built behind every house then. On the
day of my circumcision, the air raid came as soon as I had mine done –
before me my two cousins, Ibrahim and Ismail, and my elder brother,
Hamid had theirs done. I was the youngest.
When the air raid siren went off signaling that the enemy planes were
making an attack, everyone rushed to the bomb shelter. Of course, the four
of us could not make the trip. Instead, we were put under tables, or rather
tables were put over us, with pillows and mattresses covering the tables. I
wonder – had a bomb fallen over us then, could the tables with pillows and
mattresses have protected us? We could hear the roar of the bombers and
the sound of the bombs exploding somewhere. The whole house shook and
rattled with each bomb that was dropped. We were scared and the adults
around us were reading and chanting Yassin and verses from the Koran non-
stop until the whole raid was over, which normally took about an hour.
Then there would be a siren signaling that it was safe to come out.

12 January 1995
BLOWING THE CONDOMS!
Today after my physiotherapy session, we stopped at the Alpha Angle. I

would always visit the MPH bookshop. There I bought “The Comfort
Women” written by George Hicks. I had read the review of the book a few
days previously and I was really interested to read the book.
As a boy in Johor Bahru during the Japanese occupation, I
remembered the big house not far from where I lived in Kampong Mohd Amin
where the Japanese kept a lot of women. Officers of the Japanese army used
to come to this house. At that time, I was still too young to know exactly
what they were doing in the house. We boys used to see condoms floating
in the drains next to the house. Imagine some of us would collect the
condoms and blow them into balloons!
Yes, the women kept in the house were comfort women as described
in this book. According to the book, there were no less than 100,000 women
across Asia who were victims of enforced prostitution by the Japanese
Imperial Forces during World War II.
12 | AHMAD HASSAN
13 January 1995
TALKING TO THE FORM FIVE
This morning I went to school to talk to the Form Five students. This is the
first time I have seen them as a group this academic year. I like to do this
with the students of the upper secondary especially those in the examination
classes. In a very informal way, I made them sit on the floor in the school
lobby and I sat on the bench in front of them. I talked about things
important to them as students and those sitting for an important
examination such as the PMR and the SPM.
This morning I talked about what the school expects of them. I told
them that we expected them to do well in the coming exam. The teachers
were working hard to help them but it would be of no use if the students
didn’t help themselves. One of the ways to ensure that students benefit
from teachers’ help was to be present in school every school day. I told
them to enjoy coming to school and to develop good habits such as reading
habits and enquiring-mind habits and so on. Once the habit is formed it
becomes a natural thing for us. This also applies to bad habits like smoking
and so on – which we must avoid.
I noticed that the students responded very well to the talk. In the
end, I heard someone say “We love you, sir”.

14 January 1995
MEETING THE PM’S WIFE
At the physiotherapy clinic this morning, while waiting for my therapy

session, I saw Datin Sri Siti Hasmah, the wife of the Prime Minister, coming
into the clinic with the physiotherapist Hajjah Maimunah. I stood up and
she saw me and came over. I greeted her and she met my wife. I told her
that I was there for my frozen shoulder and she said that she came for
treatment of her leg. We talked for a while mainly about badminton and the
Badminton Academy. I am glad that she recognised me and she was very
informal and friendly.
I have, on many occasions, talked to my staff (teachers mostly) and
my students, about the importance of communicating (talking) with one
another. When we are willing to talk to one another, we will know about
one another better. Thus, avoiding misunderstanding and ignorance. The
Malay saying “Tak kenal maka tak cinta” is very true. It’s only through
knowing each other that we come to appreciate each other. I believe that
we ought to open up and talk to one another willingly. Be sincere and
understanding. Look at others’ points of view besides giving your views.
14 | AHMAD HASSAN
15 January 1995
SCABIES
I’m still reading the book “The Comfort Women” by George Hicks.
Reading it brings me back to some memories of the days of my boyhood
during the Japanese Occupation. Life was very hard then. Rice, our staple
food, was hard to come by. In its place, we have to eat tapioca or sweet
potatoes or maize, eaten with fish, vegetables and very seldom, meat. It
must have been because of poor nutrition that many of us suffered from
scabies.
At one time I was having scabies almost all over my body, especially
on the hands and legs. There was no proper medicine. My great-
grandmother used to concoct all sorts of home medicine to cure us of the
painful disease. One of the things she did was to bathe me with water that
she boiled with guava leaves. I can’t remember when I finally got rid of the
disease. Anyway, before the end of the war, I found that I was freed from
the disease.
Today, I still have some scars left. Besides not having much food,
clothing too was items of rare commodity. We wore clothes which were
more often than not patched up with different materials giving them a kind
of their own fashion! Even thread was difficult to get. I remember helping
my great-grandmother scrap pineapple leaves with broken glass until we got
fine fiber thread, good enough to be used as thread for sewing. I don’t know
who taught my great-grandmother to do this but I believe, everybody else
did that at that time.

16 January 1995
SCHOOL DURING JAPANESE OCCUPATION
Despite the hardships we faced during the Japanese Occupation, we still

attended school. I attended the government Malay school in my kampong
(village). The school was called Sekolah Melayu Mersing Kanan. My elder
brother and my two cousins attended the same school too. Somehow I
enjoyed studying at the school learning the usual school subjects of Malays
Language, Arithmetic, etc and, of course, Japanese Language. Singing
Japanese songs was compulsory.
At the school, besides the usual teachers, there was a Japanese soldier
attached to the schools. His role was, as far as I can remember, to teach us
how to sing Japanese songs – songs glorifying the Japanese Imperial
government – and lead morning mass drill. The daily routine was, when the
bell rang in the morning, all teachers and students assembled in front of the
school, facing the flagpole. As we sang the Japanese national Anthem
“Kimigayo wah”, the head boy slowly raised the Japanese flag. Of course, we
had to stand at attention while doing so. After that, an order was given for
us to face the sun. Words something like “sai ke re” was commanded and
we all smartly bowed our heads for the sun for about a minute or so.
After this ceremony, we had our mass drill. The whole school did
this under the command of the soldier. The drill started with the command
“Radio taiso daiichi – yot!”.
16 | AHMAD HASSAN
17 January 1995
THE HOUSE WITH ATTAP WALLS
After my circumcision and I was completely healed, I returned to Mersing

with my elder brother. In Mersing, I stayed with my great-grandmother
‘Cek’ in a house belonging to my mother. The house was actually built by
my adopted father ‘Ayah Awang’ and before it was completed, he sold it to
my mother. When we moved into the house it was hardly completed. Some
parts were without proper walls (dinding). My stepfather ‘Che’ gu Leman’
quickly put up ‘attap arpah’ as the temporary wall. Of course, it didn’t look
very nice but to me then, it was a nice house all the same.
I had some wonderful times at this house, playing around the big
compound it had. One of the things I enjoyed doing was spending a lot of
time on the jambu (guava) tree next to the house. Below the jambu tree, I dug
a longish sort of trench which I imagined to be a motorboat. I used to sit
in it and hit a metal can. I imagined the sound to be that of the engine of
the boat.
We stayed in this house for most of the Japanese Occupation of
Malaya which lasted three years and eight months. When the Japanese
surrendered, many Japanese soldiers were interned as prisoners-of-war and
were made to do work, such as cleaning, around the kampong. I remember
this one Japanese officer who used to come to the house, sat on the step,
and talked with us while keeping an eye on his soldiers.

18 January 1995
TO HULU BEJUBANG
My stepfather was a teacher in a religious school. That’s why we all called

him Cikgu. During the Japanese Occupation, he refused to work for the
Japanese government. Unused as he was in doing manual work, he did off
jobs such as fishing, rowing boats (carrying passengers across the Endau
River) and any other jobs to earn a few dollars a day.
I still remember the time when my stepfather, my mother, my
younger brother, Sallehuddin (my stepfather’s first son with my mother),
my great-grandmother and me ran away to Hulu Bejubang, somewhere
about four hours by rowing the boat up the Endau River. I said “ran”
because my stepfather did not want to work for the Japanese. So one way
was to be as far away as possible from the Japanese.
The five of us left in a boat with all our belongings in the morning.
As I was still small then (I was about eight or so) and nobody else in the
group knew how to row a boat, my stepfather did the job all alone. He too
was not good at it. However, it took us a long time to reach our destination.
To make matters worse, my stepfather had been to the place only once
before, accompanied or rather taken there by a friend, a local chap, whose
place we were heading that day. It was getting dark and we still hadn’t
reached the place. Finally, we arrived at the place safely. We were tired and
hungry. I was scared. That night we stayed at my stepfather’s friend’s house.
18 | AHMAD HASSAN
19 January 1995
AS A GUIDE TO MY STEPFATHER
The next morning, we were to move to a new house about twenty minutes
by boat, but only about ten minutes if you were to cut across on land
through the abandoned paddy land. As we had a lot of things to carry, my
stepfather, my mother, my baby brother and my great-grandmother went
by boat while I, accompanied by my stepfather’s friend, went by land. It was
also because I could learn the way by land to the main jetty which was near
my stepfather’s friend’s house.
After walking, or rather, trudging through abandoned paddy fields,
which were then overgrown with tall grass and other trees. We walked on
huge tree trunks which were felled by the farmers before they clear the land
for paddy planting. Some of these tree trunks were so huge that the diameter
was longer than me. Now, thinking about it makes me wonder how I could
manage to walk among those tree trunks which were lying haphazardly on
the ground. Anyway, we managed to arrive at our new house safely. Several
houses were alike and stood side by side. All these houses were abandoned
by the farmers who, after the harvest, moved on to another area to start
new paddy fields by felling the trees, thus clearing the jungle.
In geography, they have a term for this kind of farming – shifting
cultivation. Anyway, we moved into one of the houses. To me, though there
were no other souls around other than the five of us, it was quite exciting.
The house was virtually surrounded by banana trees.
We didn’t stay at Hulu Bejubang very long. As far as I can remember,
most probably about a month or so. There was nothing much to do there
and there were not many people to interact with. The most unforgettable
incident that happened to me during our stay there was, after being there a

few days, my stepfather wanted to go to Endau town for some business. As
he had to catch the regular boat to town from the jetty near his friend’s
house – the place where we landed when we first arrived there – he had to
walk there. The only person who knew the way was me. So it was decided
that I walk with him there and return home on my own – after all, it was
only about a ten-minute distance.
I led my stepfather, walking through the abandoned paddy field,
sometimes balancing ourselves on huge logs and fallen tree trunks. We had
no difficulty in getting to the place. My stepfather was very pleased that I
was such a good guide – mind you I was only about eight at that time. After
he had gotten on to the boat, and told me to be careful walking home, I
then left the place. It was then about ten in the morning and the day was
bright. After leaving my stepfather’s friend’s house for about a few minutes,
I came to the clearing where the abandoned paddy land began. From there
onwards you saw very few trees standing. All you see were fallen tree trunks
and wild plants beginning to grow where paddy used to grow. I walked on,
anxious to be home. Then I got lost!
20 | AHMAD HASSAN
21 January 1995
LOST IN THE JUNGLE
I must have walked for more than fifteen minutes when I realized that I was
not going anywhere. I couldn’t find the house I was living in. To me,
everywhere looked the same. The logs and the fallen tree trunks were
everywhere, and I couldn’t find any familiar landmarks anywhere. Then I
saw a stack of dried branches that looked like a small hut. I decided to climb
on this stack to see if I could see anything familiar to guide me home from
atop the stack of branches. As soon as I was about to reach the top, the
whole stack collapsed and I fell to the ground. Fortunately, I wasn’t hurt.
But I was frightened. I looked around me, hoping for some help but there
was none. I began to cry. Then I saw, not far from where I was standing,
some sort of a vegetable plot. I walked towards it and there lying on the
ground were some vegetables, like brinjals, chilies and long beans tied up in
bundles, as if ready to be taken to the market. While wondering if there
would be someone around, maybe the vegetable picker, I saw smoke not
very far away. Without hesitation, I made my way toward the smoke, falling
down a few times on the way. Then to my joy, the smoke actually came
from my house. I ran towards it and when I reached home I hugged my
mother and told her about my adventure.
I told my mother everything about my frightening experience,
sobbing at the same time and my mother consoled me and said that we
should go back to the place where I saw the bundled vegetables. After a
short rest and some refreshment, my mother and I went back to the place
where I saw the vegetables. It wasn’t very far away. We found the place all
right but to my astonishment we couldn’t find the bundled vegetables. We
went home. My great-grandmother said it was ‘orang bunian’ who could’ve

left the vegetables there to lure me. Luckily, she said, that I did not take the
vegetable, otherwise, I would have gone following them to their realm.
When I was in Form Four in 1953, I wrote this story as an essay for my
English lesson. Mr. P.V.C. Hannay, my class teacher and also the English
teacher was very impressed and gave me nine marks out of ten. If I’m not
mistaken the title of the essay was “Lost in the jungle”.
After about a month in this place, my stepfather decided to return to
Endau town as there was nothing much in the way of earning a living in this
place. So once again we loaded the boat with our belongings and the five of
us paddled back to ‘civilization’.
22 | AHMAD HASSAN
23 January 1995
THE MARRIAGE OF MY FATHER AND MOTHER
I was told that my mother was married to my father when she was still in
her teens, while my father had been married before. He divorced his first
wife who lived in a seaside village called Semanyih in Endau, before he
married my mother. At the time of their marriage, my father’s parents’
house was just a few meters behind my mother’s. My mother was living
with her grandmother as her mother, after being divorced by her husband,
got married to a Singaporean sea captain and lived with him in Singapore.
It seemed that my father used to visit my mother’s house regularly, helping
my great-grandmother write letters, and helping around the house. My
great-grandmother was very much impressed by my father. He was very
religious, well-mannered and very helpful. So, it was decided that my
mother, though not comprehending the whole arrangement, married my
father. They were married and four children later, they divorced! It seemed
that their marriage was doomed right from the beginning – my mother was
not ready for marriage at that early age. That was the reason why all her
children, me and my siblings, were raised by our great-grandmother, except
my sister Zaiton, who was raised by my grandmother in Singapore. So my
elder brother, Hamid, me and my youngest sister, Hasnah, who passed away
during the war, lived with our great-grandmother.
After the war broke, our family too somehow ‘broke up’. We had to
evacuate our kampong and leave for other places out of Mersing. I don’t
really comprehend this until today. I know that all those houses in town and
the coastal areas had to be burned to prevent them from being used by the
invading Japanese. Even our beautiful bridge which was quite recently built
was demolished. I understand that this was a miscalculation on the part of

the British. They thought that the Japanese were coming in from the east.
That was why they destroyed all facilities that they thought the Japanese
would be using. It included our beautiful house!
Well, as I said our family somehow went in different directions. My
great-grandmother, my elder brother and my younger sister, Hasnah, went
to Johor Bahru together with my father’s family. My mother and my
stepfather together with my grandmother and her other children went to
Batu Pahat. As for me, I followed my adoptive father, Ayah Awang, who
was then without a wife – he divorced Mak Som just before the war – first
to Batu Pahat then to Muar. For many, many months, we were living away
from each other, especially for me, my elder brother, my younger sister and
our beloved grandmother. I missed her the most because to me she was my
‘mother’.
24 | AHMAD HASSAN
25 January 1995
CEK
Everybody called my great-grandmother ‘Cek’. My grandmother, my

mother and everyone else called her Cek, which, among the Terengganu
people, means mother. This ‘title’ doesn’t stop at our immediate family only,
all the younger relatives and even friends, called her Cek too. She was the
matriarch of our family. She originated from Terengganu. She came to
Mersing when my grandmother was young, following her husband (not my
real great-grandfather), who was, among other things, a businessman, an
adventurer and a leader of men in his own right.
One of the things he used to do was to lead a group of fishermen up
and down in east coast from Kuala Terengganu down to Singlap in
Singapore and even up to Kuala Muda in Kedah during the northeast
monsoon season when fishing was not possible in the South China Sea. He
finally decided to settle down in Mersing. One amazing thing he did was to
bring a house from Kuala Terengganu to Mersing by sailboat. This house
which came in pieces was assembled on the riverbank of Mersing. This was
the house that I was born in. ‘Ki’, as we called him, had no children. So,
when my mother was born (in the house mentioned above), he doted on
her and as he wanted a son so much, he even nicknamed my mother ‘Salleh’.

26 January 1995
CHAINED TO A PILLAR!
‘Ki’ (from ‘Tok Ki’ meaning grandfather) was a fascinating man. As I

remember him, he was a big man, broad of shoulders, quite fair of skin and
with white hair. I was quite scared of him thinking of him as one who would
punish you if you made mistakes. His big strong voice would always put
fear in me and my brother.
Despite this, I still did things that I knew would make him angry. For
instance, one evening I went to the cinema which was on the other side of
the river directly opposite our house, alone. When I did not return home
when it was dark, Ki found out that I was at the cinema. He sent someone
to fetch me. When I arrived home, Ki reprimanded me and told me that he
wanted to teach me a lesson, not to go wandering around, especially to the
cinema, by myself.
In the centre of our house there was a pillar, called the ‘Tiang Sri’. To
this pillar, I was chained! Of course, I cried and made a lot of noise but
nobody dared come to help me for fear of being chained too. I was later
released by my grandmother who bathed and fed me. Although we feared
him, we loved him very much because he cared about us. In Mersing, he
was known as Che Lah Tatah. He died just before the break of World War
Two.
26 | AHMAD HASSAN
27 January 1995
KI
I said earlier that Ki was not my real great-grandfather. He married my great-

grandmother after she was divorced from her first husband. But it was Ki
that we were all very familiar with and regarded him as our great-
grandfather. In the early days of Mersing, he was quite a well-known figure.
Besides being a ‘towkay’ in the fishing business, he was also a leader among
the fisherfolk, especially those who originated from Terengganu.
He was known as Che Lah (Abdullah) Tatah. This nickname was
given to him on account that he was the first man in Mersing known to
have a gold tooth. The Malays called a person with gold tooth as ‘orang giginya
bertatah emas’. Besides that, his big size was so conspicuous, especially among
his hired men. He had many people working for him and among them was
a Chinese man who was very devoted to him because he (my great-
grandfather) helped him a lot. Sometime in the ’60s or ’70s, I came across
a very interesting article in the Straits Times about a millionaire in Mersing.
When I read the news, I suddenly realised that the millionaire was
the same Chinese man who used to work for my great-grandfather. We used
to call this man ‘Towkay Sayur’.

28 January 1995
OUR HOUSE
The house that I was born in was the house built by my great-grandfather
Ki. The house which was brought from Terengganu was big and was rather
unique in that it was the only house in and around that area that had a roof.
Like most parts of the house, the tiles were also brought from Terengganu.
Today you can still see some of the tiles, which are made by the Terengganu
Malays, used in some of the houses there.
The house consisted of three sections. The first was the main part
which consisted of the ‘anjung’ (living area) and the large area which had the
only bedroom in the whole house. As I remember, this room was my
mother’s. The rest of the house was just an open area that had multipurpose
use. The main part which had a tiled roof, had nice plank walls which were
covered with blue-white designed wallpaper. The floor was smooth and
shiny. The long windows had louvres and were painted pale green. The
second section of the house (the middle part) was slightly lower (about a
foot) and had a zinc roof. The floor was not as good as that of the main
section. Here, I used to sleep with my brother and great-grandmother. Then
the last section of the house, the kitchen area, again was lower than the
second. It had nipah roof and it was here that a lot of activities were carried
out.
28 | AHMAD HASSAN
29 January 1995
AYAH AWANG
If there was one person whom I was attached to when I was small, it was
Ayah Awang, my adoptive father. Ayah Awang, who was related to my
great-grandmother married Mak Som, who was an adopted daughter of my
great-grandmother. Their marriage didn’t produce any children, so they
kind of adopted me to be their son. That’s how I came to call them Ayah
and Emak, as well as calling my real father and mother, Ayah and Emak.
My adoptive parents lived in a house not far away from my great-
grandmother. I didn’t live with my adoptive parents. Maybe I spent a few
nights with them and the rest of the time I was with my great-grandmother.
Ayah Awang was a boatman. He drove a motorboat to the ‘kelong’ in
the sea, off-Mersing, and brought back the fish caught in kelong. Sometimes
he would spend days away at the kelong and also at the islands. I always
looked forward to his return because that was the time I got a chance to be
on his boat. Sometimes he would take me for a ride on the boat. The boat,
like all the other boats, would be moored in the middle of the river – Sungai
Mersing – and can easily be seen from my house. One evening Ayah Awang
took me to the boat. He cooked dinner on board and after dinner, we
wanted to return to shore but there was no boat to take us. So Ayah Awang
swam ashore with me on his back.
Ayah Awang has always been known as a strong and silent person.
He didn’t speak much but was always there when needed. I don’t really
know his early background. As far as I can remember, he came from
Terengganu with my great-grandparents and had always stayed with them
until he got married to Mak Som. His marriage to Mak Som didn’t last long.
They were divorced and Mak Som got married to Pak Ali, a Boyanese, who

worked as a chauffeur in Singapore. Pak Ali had a daughter, Esah and a son,
Ithnin, from his previous marriage. Later they adopted a Chinese girl and
gave her the name of Fatimah (Asman Sekak’s mother) and after a long
time, they got a daughter of their own, Khadijah.
After his divorce from Mak Som, Ayah Awang married a few times
but each one didn’t last long until he met his present wife, Mak Jah, with
whom he had several daughters. I met some of the daughters when they
were small. Among them, I remember the eldest, Fatimah, very well. She
was very fair and pretty. Before I left for Johor Bahru to attend the English
school in 1947, I was very close to Ayah Awang, spending a lot of time with
his family. But after that, I saw not very much of him. The last time I saw
him was many years ago. My last attempt to see him was early last year. But
he was not in Mersing.
30 | AHMAD HASSAN
31 January 1995
LIVING IN MUAR
I can’t remember exactly how long I stayed in Muar with Ayah Awang. We
were there when the Japanese entered Malaya. I still remember when we
saw many Japanese soldiers marching down the road in front of the house
where we stayed. Some of the soldiers broke from the column and entered
the houses. When they found what they wanted, especially bicycles, they
just took them. Anybody who tried to stop them would be beaten. They
were marching down south toward Singapore.
Before the Japanese arrived, conditions were chaotic. There was no
proper law and order. Shops were closed and nothing was on sale. But
people just helped themselves to what they wanted. They broke down stores
(especially those that kept ice, flour and sugar) and carted away foodstuff.
Sometimes in groups and sometimes singly. I remember seeing Ayah
Awang carrying bags of rice and flour home, so at that time, food was no
problem. Some even took bicycle parts, cloth and any other items that they
fancied.
All this looting stopped when the Japanese came. There was a
bombing incident which I can’t forget. The Japanese hadn’t yet arrived. It
was in the morning when we heard the drone of the airplanes, followed by
machine gun fire and later the dropping of bombs. Everybody ran helter-
skelter and later we discovered that the target was the harbour and a ship
sank in the middle of Muar River.

1 February 1995
THE BLIND KORAN TEACHER
In Muar, my adoptive father, Ayah Awang, and I stayed with some of his
relatives. I don’t know how Ayah Awang earned his living but I remember
him going out of the house every morning and returning in the evening. I
was left to play with a lot of the children and around the house. All the
children would attend the Koran reading class in the afternoon. Somehow
nobody bothered to ask me to attend the class, so I would just play around
alone while all the others read the Koran.
The teacher who taught the children was a blind lady. Although I
didn’t know much about Koran reading – other than reading the Al-fatihah
and “Kul-hu-wallah…” by heart – I enjoyed listening to the blind teacher
reciting the Koran. I thought she had a beautiful voice.
Another thing that I remember seeing at this place was the people
weaving cloth. The cloth weaver weaved the cloth using huge wooden
looms which were placed under the house. I was fascinated by the
movement of the looms, click-clacking, with the weaver throwing and
catching the cylinder containing the thread with nimble fingers, at the same
time moving the reeds up and down with her feet rhythmically. The people
that we stayed with were all originally from Terengganu. They must have
been there for a long time for they seemed quite settled down there. After
the bombing, we moved away from there and stayed in another house a few
miles away.
32 | AHMAD HASSAN
2 February 1995
THE LONG WALK
One day, Ayah Awang told me that we were going back to Mersing. When
I heard it, I was overjoyed as that meant that I was going to see my family
again, especially Cek, my great-grandmother. What I didn’t realize about
going back to Mersing was we were going to walk there! There was no
transportation available then. So one bright morning, Ayah Awang and I
joined about twenty or so others, including children, in a big walk from
Muar to Mersing. Our route was from Muar to Batu Pahat and then to
Kluang and finally to Mersing – a distance of more than 130 miles.
However, we were fortunate somehow to be able to hitch a ride on a lorry
between Kluang and Jemaluang.
To me the journey was not at all bad, I enjoyed it actually. As it was
hot to walk in the midday, we walked early in the morning, rested in the
afternoon, and walked again in the evening until quite late at night. We
stopped to rest and cook our food at various surau or masjid or schools on
the way. It took us about four days to reach Kluang and another two days
to Mersing. Part of the journey from Jemaluang to Mersing was by bullock-
cart which we met on the way.
One astonishing thing about the walk, that now I come to think of
it, was that I don’t remember having any shoes! That means I had been
walking barefoot. The sight of people walking was not strange. It was
wartime and we were all refugees! I was only about seven then.

3 February 1995
MERSING BRIDGE
I was both happy and sad when I reached Mersing. I was happy because I
had returned to my kampong but sad to see it destroyed, especially our house
which was razed to the ground. Most of the buildings, especially the
shophouses, suffered the same fate. Where our house once stood
majestically, we see only ashes and burnt remnants of our belongings.
Together with Ayah Awang, I walked through the ashes amongst the
crumpled zinc roof and broken crockery, burned black. Stacks of 68 RPM
records stuck together, which were the prized collection of my mother and
many other things, barely recognizable.
Not far from our house, spanning the Mersing River, was the newly
constructed bridge. It was one of the most beautiful bridges in Johor – so I
was told. I was very sad when I saw this bridge again. It was bombed
(detonated) by the British army before they left Mersing. What was left were
the two ends of the bridge leaving the middle gaping wide open. Part of the
bombed bridge could be seen partly submerged in the river.
When the Japanese occupied the country, they repaired the bridge by
joining the two ends with a wooden bridge. Later when the British came
back, the wooden bridge was replaced with a Bailey bridge. Now it has been
rebuilt and in my opinion, it’s not the same as what it used to be. I have
special feelings for this bridge because I saw it being built from beginning
to end, during my most impressionable age.
34 | AHMAD HASSAN
4 February 1995
BURUNG PUCHONG
Another shock that I got when I reached Mersing was that I didn’t find my
family waiting for me there. They were still in Johor Bahru - my great-
grandmother, my elder brother, my mother - people that I most missed!
When Ayah Awang saw me looking so sad, he consoled me by saying that
they would be back when they could get transportation. So, in the
meantime, Ayah Awang and I stayed with Mak Chik Tok Su – a lady who
married my grandfather (my mother’s father) after he divorced my
grandmother (my mother’s mother, Mak Wok).
At this time Mak Chik Tok Su too was divorced from my
grandfather, Ayah Long. Their marriage produced three children, Che Wa,
Angah Lah, both girls and Chu Mahmud, a boy. So they were actually half-
sisters and brother of my mother and thus are my aunties and uncle
respectively. Yes, they are still alive and are now in Mersing. I was staying
with Mak Chik and her family for quite a while until my other family
members returned to Mersing.
Most of the time, Ayah Awang was away sailing to some island off-
Mersing. One day he came back and brought me a young chick (bird) called
burung puchong – a kind of stork, black in colour. I was so happy. I took care
of the bird taking it with me everywhere I went. When the bird grew big
and was able to fly, it still stayed with me. It would fly above me while I
played with my friends below. Then one day it didn’t come back. Later I
was told that someone had killed it. Oh God!
Che’, my great-grandmother had two children, both daughters. One
was Mak Wok, my mother’s mother, and the other was Ayu (I was the one
who started calling that and everyone else did the same after that). Mak Wok

married my grandfather, Ayah Long and had my mother, who was the only
child. As I had mentioned earlier, they were divorced and each remarried;
my grandmother to a sea captain, named Arshad, a Singaporean, and my
grandfather to Mak Chik Tok Su. My grandmother’s marriage to the captain
didn’t bring them any children but they adopted two girls, one was the
daughter of Ayu, whom they called Zam (Cik Da Zam) and the other was
a Chinese girl they called Asmah (Cik Nga). Both these girls are considered
to be my mother’s sisters and therefore my aunties. Ayah Long, my
grandfather, on the other hand, had three children from his marriage to
Mak Chik Toh Su – two girls and a boy. They are, of course, my mother’s
blood sisters and brother.
Despite the divorce, everyone was still close to one another and was
loyal to Che’, my great-grandmother. Everyone that I have mentioned here
called my great-grandmother Che’ and every so often would congregate at
the big house. Che’ was the centre of everything!
36 | AHMAD HASSAN
6 February 1995
AYU
Ayu, my grandmother’s sister, married a Muar man and moved there. Their
marriage brought them several daughters, one of them, Che Da Zam, who
was adopted by my grandmother. Ayu stayed in Muar until the death of her
husband. Besides leaving several daughters and grandchildren, he left her
the kebun (orchard) – mainly durian and langsat – where she was staying. I
had the opportunity to visit her house a few times. The first time was during
the war when I was with Ayah Awang in Muar. The last time I met Ayu at
her Muar home was in the late 80s. She was then quite ill and not able to
move about very much. When her husband died, Ayu went back to stay
with us in Mersing.
I remember her, when I was still small, as someone who was very
kind to everybody, especially to me, because I liked to talk as well as listen
to her. She was very religious. I think, at that time, she was the only one
who was on her tikar sembahyang (prayer mat) most of the time. Compared
to Mak Wok, my grandmother, Ayu was an angel. It seemed that Mak Wok
used to bully her a lot – even when they were grown-ups. Just before the
war, Ayu went back to Muar to be with her children and she stayed there
until she passed away a few months after the last time I saw her.

7 February 1995
THE REUNION WITH MY FAMILY
I don’t know how long I stayed with Mak Chik Tok Su but I remember
always thinking of my great-grandmother, Cek, and my other family
members. I missed them very much. Sometimes I would cry alone,
especially at night when I slept alone when Ayah Awang would be
somewhere on his visits to the islands. Although Mak Chik Tok Su and my
two aunties and uncle took good care of me, I still missed my own family.
Then, one day, I was told that my father (Hassan) was back in
Mersing with his mother and sisters and their children. I was very happy to
hear that and at once, asked to be taken to them. They were then staying in
a rented shophouse (two-story) near the school I used to attend. When they
saw me, especially my aunty, Uda, they were very pleased because they took
pity on me, knowing that I had been separated from my loved ones and
living like a lost puppy. At that time, my great-grandmother and other
members of the family were still in Johor Bahru.
One day, it was decided that someone took me to Johor Bahru to be
with my family again. Ayah Awang was not too happy about it but at my
insistence, he agreed and let me go. My meeting with Cek and my other
family members was a very tearful one. We kissed and hugged each other
as if I was just raised from the dead!
38 | AHMAD HASSAN
8 February 1995
MY FATHER’S FAMILY
I said earlier that my father’s parents’ house was at the back of my great-
grandmother’s house. It was roughly about 300 meters away. When I was
small, I used to run to this house whenever I wanted to play with my cousin
– I was always the youngest. My father had an elder brother, known as
Abang Hitam, and three younger sisters, Angah Rogayah, Uda Gendot and
Chu Mariam. Abang Hitam (a real black sheep of the family) ran away to
Siam when he was young. I didn’t get to meet him until after the war when
he returned to Mersing, bringing along his wife and an adopted son.
Angah Rogayah married Mohamed (whom I never met) and had
Long Hassan, Ajid (Majid) and Che Ah (Saleha). When her husband died,
she married Sidek but didn’t have any children. So they adopted Hasnah.
Uda Gendot didn’t have any children at all. She and her husband, Abang
Leman, adopted a boy from Endau, called Ibrahim, and later took Atan, her
sister’s (Chu Yang) son as hers. Uda Gendot was very fond of all her
nephews and nieces. I was one of her favourites, too. Chu Yang had three
children by her first marriage – Ismail, Khadijah (Jah) and Md Aris (Atan).
By her second marriage, she had several children.

9 February 1995
TOK CHA
The head of my father’s family at that time was Tok (my father’s mother).
His father had died when the children were young, and Tok had to raise
them all by herself. Tok (she was known as Cik Siti) had another sister that
we called Tok Cha (Tok Besar – on account of her big size) and she married
an Arab and had a few children – I can’t remember how many.
The thing I remember well about Tok Cha was that she was blind.
She wasn’t blind from birth but by the time I knew her well, until she died
sometime in the year 1950, she was blind. She lived in a large house, painted
white, situated between my great-grandmother’s house and my father’s
house. So every time I wanted to go to my father’s house or my paternal
grandmother’s house, I had to pass by Tok Cha’s house.
Tok Cha’s family was quite well-to-do. Her Arab husband was a
businessman of some repute in Mersing at that time. So they used to have
all kinds of Arab ceremonies and celebrations, such as performing the Zapin,
serving Arabic food, etc. The Arabic culture was so influential in the family
that all the children married Arabs. They even brought slaves to work for
them (Bedouin Arabs from Arabia). I used to be scared of them – tall and
black!
40 | AHMAD HASSAN
10 February 1995
TOK
My paternal grandmother, Tok, was thin and straight. Although slight in

build, she was very active. She used to tell us that she had never had any
problem with her back – never had any backaches and was very proud of
it. I remember some of us, the grandchildren, asking her what her secret
was and she said; rise early in the morning, don’t overeat and exercise. She
taught us the exercises. They were very simple – just a few stretching
exercises when you get up every morning and an ‘ayat’ from the Koran,
which I’ve forgotten, to be read after the exercises while rubbing your back
with both hands. I think I used to follow that for a while when I was about
twelve or thirteen, then I stopped. I don’t know why.
Another thing I remember about Tok was that she was very religious
– she never missed her five-times-a-day prayers and fasted not only during
the month of Ramadan but also in the other months when necessary. My
father, among all her children, must have followed her. All the other
children were not so ‘alim’. One thing I can say is that my father’s family
was more religious compared to my mother’s – at least the former practised
the ritualistic aspects more than the latter. However, I learnt a lot of the
‘fardu ain’ from my great-grandmother, Cek, though she was not much of a
practitioner herself.

11 February 1995
A TRIP TO BATU TIGA
My two cousins, Ibrahim and Ismail, and my elder brother, Hamid, were
my closest friends or rather my ‘protectors’, since I was much younger than
they were. I used to tag along whenever they went about playing around the
neighbourhood. Sometimes they thought that I was not big enough to take
part in what they did and they would ask me to stay behind. My reaction
was, of course, to cry and then they would either let me follow, with certain
conditions, of course, or they would just run away as fast as they could,
leaving me bawling behind.
One day, the three of them decided to go to my father’s kebun which
was about three miles away; at Batu Tiga. The plan was not to include me,
but as usual, I persisted in following. So we all walked. They had to slow
down on account that, after a while, I couldn’t keep up with them – I was
then hardly five or six. We finally reached the kebun and we helped ourselves
to some sugarcanes. There was nobody there. Then we went swimming in
the big longkang nearby.
After that, we left for home. On the way home, I was left further and
further behind as I was tired. Then I cried as I was not only tired but also
thirsty. There was no water to drink. The only water available was in the
drains beside the road. So we drank this water. Thank God, nothing
happened to us!
42 | AHMAD HASSAN
12 February 1995
BATU CAWAN
One day the four of us decided, or rather, the three of them decided and I
just tagged along to go and play on the beach near the mouth of Mersing
River, on the town-side of the river. There was a big rock there which the
local called ‘Batu Cawan’, because from afar it looked like a cup with its
handle broken, standing on a saucer. The rock was very rough and full of
sharp edges. If one is not careful, one can easily get cuts when walking on
it.
On that day, we didn’t go to the rock. We were just playing in its
vicinity, catching crabs. We were so engrossed looking for crabs that we
were not aware that the tide was coming in. Suddenly, we realized that we
had to leave the place for shore, about 100 yards or so away. We walked
and waded in the water which was coming to my chin quickly, with my
brother and cousins pulling me along. I stumbled and fell, swallowing salt
water. After what seemed like an endless torture, we arrived on the beach,
all wet.
Ki came to hear of our adventure. My brother and I received a very
good scolding from him. Batu Cawan was known to be a dangerous place,
especially for children. It was not just the ruggedness of the area that could
endanger children but also the locals believe that it was the home of ‘orang
bunian’. When I was in school, during the Japanese time, two of my
schoolmates’ brothers were missing while playing there.
Among the four of us, my two cousins, my brother and I, Hamid
(Abang), my brother, was the smartest. He did well in school and was able
to read all the classical Malay stories at an early age. Ismail (Ail) was clever

but lazy and not much interested in schoolwork. Ibrahim, poor Ibrahim had
not much brain for academic work and was struggling through school.
And as for me, I didn’t show any spark in learning until I was in
English school. There I began to show some interest and at primary level,
I was among the top of the class. There were a few times when I even came
top of the class. Somehow when I was at the upper secondary level (Form
4 and Form 5), I began to slacken in my schoolwork. It must have been, at
that time, I began to be interested in other things – girls being one of them.
When I was in Form 4 (Standard Eight) I almost dropped out of
school. I wanted to find work and earn a living. Fortunately, my very close
friends and schoolmates - Karim, Yem, Dollah Ismail and a few others,
advised me against it. Then, Wak Yeb, our teacher and scoutmaster who
was then still a bachelor, asked me to stay with him so that he could help to
see that I finished school. I moved in with him, together with Karim and
Yem. So began our life at 1107, Jalan Nong Chik, Johor Bahru.
44 | AHMAD HASSAN
14 February 1995
MY FIRST SCHOOL
I started school at the age of five plus because, although I was still underage,
I wanted to go to school to follow my brother and my two cousins. I was
put in Standard One and my teacher was Cikgu Rahman – they all referred
to him as ‘Cikgu Rahman Juling’ on account that he squinted. He was a strict
teacher and with his squinted eyes he looked very fierce to us, the little ones.
I remember one day I was made to count up to ten by using little
stones. I was called to the teacher’s table, which I barely reached, and asked
to count the stones. I was nervous and scared because the teacher was
standing near me with a cane in his hand. He called out “Kira!” and I, with
trembling fingers started counting “Satu, dua, tiga….” And so on until I
reached “Sepuluh” and at that very moment I accidentally spat on the table!
Actually my spittle was about to come out of my mouth by the time I
reached seven. Imagine my fear, because the teacher stood there staring at
me with his squinted eyes and raising his cane as if to strike me. But he
didn’t. He just asked me to return to my seat. I spent two years in Standard
One, under the same teacher. In the second year, I was less frightened of
him and at the end of that year, I passed my exam and was about to be
promoted to Standard Two. Then the war broke!
School in those days was quire fun. In Standard One, I was made to
carry a slate (papan batu) for writing. When the slate was first bought from
the shop it didn’t have any lines. Then you brought it to school and showed
it to your teacher who would draw the lines for you. On one side, he would
draw lines specially for ‘rumi’ writing or the Romanised alphabet – three
lines – and the other, single lines – used for writing Jawi script and for
Arithmetic and other things. For writing we used qualam batu or slate

pencils. The slate pencils need to be sharpened very often. To sharpen it
you either use a knife or by rubbing it onto the cement. It was quite a
common sight to see boys sitting by the side of the drain rubbing their slate
pencils during break time. The wooden-framed slate could easily be broken
if it were to fall onto hard ground. In my case, I was prone to falling during
the walk to and from school. Thus my slate had to be renewed now and
then. The qualam batu too got short very fast due to too often sharpening.
When it got too short and you have no money to buy new ones, you took
a short length of the little bamboo that you could find in the school fence
and inserted one end of the slate pencil into the bamboo. Thus lengthening
the pencil which would last you a while more.
My first school was called Sekolah Melayu Mersing Kanan. My brother
and the two cousins went to the same school. The school building was a
long single storied building with concrete pillars about three feet high.
Besides the pillars and the stairways which were of concrete, the rest of the
building was made of wood; but it was a very strong type of wood, or else
it wouldn’t be standing until today. Yes, the school is still there today, as
strong as ever. Inside, the school had no permanent partitions, except, at
one end. Two rooms were facing each other with a passageway in between.
The rest of the building was one long hall, partitioned only with moveable
screens for different classes. As there were only five classes (Standard 1 –
Standard 5), the hall was divided into five. The funny thing about the
partitions was that they were for partitioning the pupils of the different
classes only. The teachers themselves with their tables and blackboard on
easels were in full view of everybody. The sound of the teachers teaching
and the children reading could be heard by everybody.
Next to the school building was a well with a concrete wall
surrounding it. Not far from it was the latrine, also made of concrete.
Beyond the well, near the main road, was the headmaster’s house. In front
of the school was the school padang (field) and just beyond it was our school
vegetable garden. The wall and the windows of the school were all louvres.
The school uniform of my school in those days consisted of khaki
shorts, khaki shirt, white shoes and black songkok. The teachers wore white
trousers, white button-up-to-the-neck tunic and black songkok and shoes, of
course. For P.T. (Physical Training) we would take off our shirts, songkok
and shoes. Besides being a specific class (Std 1, Std 2, etc) the boys were
also divided into groups (pasukan). There were four pasukan altogether.
46 | AHMAD HASSAN
These pasukan were just like houses in most schools. So these pasukan
were called Pasukan Satu, Pasukan Dua, Pasukan Tiga and Pasukan Empat. I
can’t remember which pasukan I belonged to. The part that I remember
quite well was about us boys being made to sweep the school both inside
and outside of it and rearrange the desks. Two teams would sweep the
school while the other two would do gardening in our vegetable garden.
Each team was assigned a vegetable plot. We planted long beans,
ladyfingers, chillies and so on. I didn’t like gardening very much. I preferred
sweeping to gardening. Sweeping and gardening were done alternately.
Another thing that I hated most was when we were made to take
quinine for malarial prevention. About once in one or two months, the
teacher would reach for the huge bottle of quinine in the glass medicine
cupboard and made us, who lined up in a long line, swallow a tablespoonful
of the dreaded liquid. Many would rush to the well after that to wash away
the bitter taste in our mouths. Aghh!

18 February 1995
TOK SIAM
It was about the time when I was in Standard One that I suffered from
malaria. It was called ‘Demam Kura’ by the local people. They didn’t believe
in sending me to the hospital. Instead, they used bomoh to cure my sickness.
The bomoh that attended to me was a Thai that we used to call Tok Siam.
This Thai bomoh was considered to be a very clever man. He was supposed
to be able to cure all sorts of sicknesses. Besides that, he was also a good
soothsayer. I remember he had this book full of pictures in which only he
could interpret the meaning of each picture. He used this book to tell you
about your future.
One day, my brother and I were playing in front of this Tok Siam
when he called us and asked us whether we wanted to know our future. As
we were always fascinated by the book, we were only too glad to see what
it could tell us. So the Tok Siam asked us in turn, to insert a lidi (stick) into
the pages of the book at random. First, my brother did it. Tok Siam opened
the book to the pages where the stick was inserted. He looked at the pictures
and, with a smile, he said to my brother, “Awak akan kawin anak raja!” My
brother was very happy. Then, it was my turn. Tok Siam looked at the
pictures I picked and, again with a smile, said, “Awak akan kawin anak
Menteri!” Was it just a joke? Or was it a true prophecy? My brother’s wife
comes from Johor royalty and my wife is the daughter of the first elected
Negeri Sembilan Menteri Besar!
48 | AHMAD HASSAN
19 February 1995
MALARIA
The malaria that attached to me lasted for quite some time. I can’t remember
exactly for how long but I still remember that the attack came without fail
at a certain time of the day. Sometimes, while I was playing with my brother
and friends around the compound by the house, I would rush home because
I felt very cold and started shivering. My great-grandmother would then put
me to bed (on the floor-laid mattress) and cover me with a blanket. Under
the blanket, I would be shivering as I felt very cold. Even my teeth would
be chattering. At the height of the fever (my temperature became high) I
would become delirious, shouting or speaking nonsense.
I remember once, during my delirium I saw the roof of the house
above me, opened and I saw the sky. At this time, my great-grandmother
would be attending to me, dabbing my face with a wet cloth, massaging my
body and talking to me with loving words. Then slowly the fever would
subside when my body was drenched in sweat. Once the fever was gone, I
was all right again. I rose with a little bit of a headache and was able to play
again.
During this time, I was under the treatment of Tok Siam. I don’t
remember having to take anything, but a lot of chanting (jampi) and ‘magical’
things were done to me. I even had to wear a tangkal around my neck, which
made me very shy to take off my shirt for P.T. in school.

20 February 1995
ATAN
Although I was closer to my mother’s family, I did spend some time with
the family of my father. Uda, my father’s younger sister, had no children.
Because of this, she was very kind and took care of us, her nephews and
nieces. As I said earlier, she took this orphan boy from Endau and called
him Ibrahim and raised him like a son. Later she kind of adopted one of the
nephews - the son of Chu Yam, her younger sister and mother of my cousin
Ismail. She really doted on this boy, whose given name was Aris, but was
called Atan by everyone in the family. Atan was pampered and had
everything he wanted. I remember when I was bigger, after the war, i.e. after
the Japanese had left and the British returned, I had to look after Atan, who
was then about four or five years old. Every day, after school, I would go
to his house and play with him until it was time for me to go home in the
evening.
When I was playing with him, I had to be careful not to hurt or
displease him in any way, or else, Uda would be very angry. Our
companionship went on until I left for Johor Bahru to join the English
school. Incidentally, Uda and Abang Leman, her husband, were divorced
sometime before I left for Johor Bahru. Uda and Atan later moved to JB to
stay with Angah Gayah with whom I was staying together with Ajid, Cik
Ah, Jah, Nah, Ail and Ibrahim – all my cousins – and Tok, my grandmother,
of course.
50 | AHMAD HASSAN
21 February 1995
ENTRANCE EXAM TO ENGLISH SCHOOL
After the war, English schools were open again. There were no English
schools in Mersing at that time. Malay children from Malay schools were
given the opportunity to go to English schools through special Malay
classes. Children not more than twelve years old could sit for the entrance
exam and if they passed, they could be admitted to special Malay Class One.
Among the children in our family, I was the only one eligible. The
family on my father’s side decided to send me to Johor Bahru to sit for the
entrance exam and if I passed I could study there and stay with Long
Hassan, our eldest cousin, who was then the Headmaster of Sekolah Melayu
Tambatan Tinggi, JB. There was another boy from my school, called Wan
Mohamed who was going with me to JB to sit for the exam.
On the day of the exam, I felt rather nervous and lonely as all the
other boys that I saw there were strangers. They were town boys and I, who
came from the kampong must’ve looked strange to them. I looked around
for Wan Mohamed but he wasn’t there. Instead, to my relief, I met two boys
who were originally from my school in Mersing. These two boys had come
to JB earlier and were already studying in JB schools. Until the exam was
over, Wan Mohamed was nowhere to be seen. Later, I found out that the
uncle with whom he was supposed to live with in JB, moved out of JB on
transfer on the exam day and Wan Mohamed had to follow him.

22 February 1995
THE NGEE HENG PRIMARY SCHOOL
In January 1947, I began my English school education – the first person to

do that in my family. The school I was attending was called Ngee Heng
Primary School. It was about two miles from where I lived. I was then
staying with Long Hassan, who was then the Headmaster of Sekolah Melayu
Tambatan Tinggi and the house (government quarters) assigned to him was
next to the school. It was in this house that I had my circumcision during
the Japanese time. I used to walk to and from school every day. Sometimes,
when I was lucky, I managed to get a lift from my classmate’s father in his
Jeep.
Walking was no big deal to me then. I am not sure whether we had
to wear school uniform then, but my school attire was a white shirt, white
shorts, white shoes with white socks and to top it all, I wore a white cork
hat (the type normally worn by white hunters). The cork hat and the shoes
had to be blanched every week. I enjoyed going to school and made a lot of
new friends.
I studied very hard because I knew that I was at a disadvantage
coming from a kampong and not knowing a word of English. I learnt
everything by heart and soon I was among the clever ones in the class. My
class was called SM1A and my teacher was Mr Toh Boon Chin, a very good
teacher. In the afternoon, from 3:00 to 4:30 pm, I attended the ugama school
which was next door to where I lived. The ugama school used the same
school building as the Sekolah Melayu Tambatan Tinggi.
In those days, we had two important examinations a year; one, the
half-yearly exam and the other, the end-of-year exam, which was also
referred to as the final exam. One had to do well in both exams if one
52 | AHMAD HASSAN
wanted to be promoted to the next standard. In my very first exam in
English education i.e. the half-yearly exam, I did quite well. I was among
the top eight or so from the two SM1 classes and then in the final exam, I
was among the top five! All those who passed the exam were promoted to
SM2 classes. I was promoted to SM2B, to my disappointment. With my
results, I expected to be in SM2A. I was later told that promotion for A and
B classes was not based on the exam results alone but on odd and even
numbers. All even numbers went to A class and all odd numbers to B class!
I happened to have an odd number.
Anyway, after a while in SM2B, I didn’t regret going there because I
got a better teacher than SM2A. My teacher, Mr Charlie Hu – who later
became my good friend when I became a teacher – was not only good at
teaching but also very considerate to his students and never once punished
them physically. Mr K.H. Samuel was ever ready to rap his knuckles on the
student’s heads whenever they made any mistake.

24 February 1995
BUKIT ZAHRAH SCHOOL
The SM2 classes were in another school. The school was called Bukit
Zahrah English School. It was formerly Istana Zahrah belonging to the
Sultan of Johor. He allowed it to turn into a school as it was empty. It was
a beautiful building, built following the contour of the ground. Because of
this, you find that some parts of the building seemed to be below ground
level. It had the same type of decorative designs as the other buildings in
the Istana ground. In fact, the school was at one corner of the Istana Besar
grounds.
I liked this school very much. The Headmaster, Mr Logan, was a very
kind man and everybody liked him. It was in this school that I really learnt
a lot, not only in my normal school lessons but also in other school
activities, such as sports and camera club. I was still in this school when I
moved into Pak Ngah Wahid’s house which was on Bukit Timbalan, not far
away from school. Pak Ngah Wahid was my stepfather’s elder brother.
Part of the reason why I moved into his house was to be near the
school. The other reason was a slight misunderstanding with my aunty
Angah Gayah. Anyway, I stayed at this school for three interesting years.
As it was near my house, I spent a lot of afternoons playing at the school
padang.
54 | AHMAD HASSAN
25 February 1995
THE HOUSE NEAR LIDO BEACH
Before I moved to Pak Ngah Wahid’s house, I was staying with my aunty
Angah Gayah. She had moved from Long Hassan’s house – the one near
the school where I had my circumcision – as Long Hassan, who got married
to a Headmistress of a girls’ school, moved to her house which was near
her school. So all of us - Angah Gayah, Ajid (Long Hassan’s brother), Che
Ah and husband, Jah, Hasnah, Ibrahim, Ismail and I, moved to a rented
house near Lido Beach.
I liked this house, despite it not having modern amenities such as
light and water, because it was near the sea. Almost every day I would be
spending my time with my cousins and friends who lived close by,
swimming. From this house, I had to walk much further to school but I had
two other boys who stayed nearby to walk with me. They were Dollah and
Leman who were brothers and their father, who was called Endut. Around
this house, there were a lot of mangosteen trees. We boys were very fond
of climbing up these trees especially when there were a lot of ripe
mangosteens. For baths, we had to walk down to the well which was a good
distance behind the house.
There were three big houses near ours. One was a government
quarters occupied by an engineer, an Indian, one belong to a Chinese match
factory manager and the other belonged to Syed Harun. Later I found that
Syed Harun’s house was turned into Lido Massage Parlour. All the other
houses, including the one I lived in, were demolished.

26 February 1995
THE LIDO
During the British colonisation time, there were a lot of British government
officers living in the big government quarters in the area, especially along
the beach. Every Sunday and on public holidays the beach and specially
assigned area for swimming called ‘Lido’ was crowded with Mat Sallehs –
men and women. They were either government officers or the British army
officers and their families. There were also the local people but they mostly
kept away from the Lido.
The Lido actually ‘belonged’ to us, the local boys. At other times
when there was no Mat Salleh around. I remember going swimming there at
night when the tide was full. The Lido was an area of the sea fenced up in
a rectangular shape with a jetty on one side leading to a raised platform that
had a diving board. The fenced-up area could only be used when the tide is
full, otherwise, there was not much water to swim in. On the landside of
the fenced-up area was a concrete wall, and leading to this specially built
swimming place called Lido was a big open space, with some changing
rooms and parking space.
This place was also known as a popular place for lovers. At night one
could see rows of cars parked there with couples making love in them and,
without them realizing, that they were giving a free show to pairs of hungry
eyes in the dark!
56 | AHMAD HASSAN
27 February 1995
MOVING TO PAK NGAH WAHID’S HOUSE
It was at about this time that Cek, my great-grandmother went to live in

Singapore with Mak Som, her adopted daughter and my adoptive mother.
Mak Som was then married to Pak Ali who worked as a chauffeur in
Singapore. As I said earlier, Pak Ali had one daughter and a son from his
previous marriage. With Mak Som, they adopted a Chinese girl whom they
called Fatimah. They later got their own daughter, Khadijah.
When Cek went to stay with them in Singapore. I used to visit her
almost every weekend. This was one of the causes of my misunderstanding
with my aunty Angah Gayah. She was not too happy that I spent so much
time away every weekend. One night, she scolded me and told me that if I
loved going to Singapore so much, I might as well move there. I was very
hurt. Actually, I went to Singapore to see my great-grandmother whom I
missed very much.
Since that night I became very unhappy living with my aunty. I wrote
to my father saying that I wanted to move out of that house. I also told my
mother about my unhappiness. My stepfather, Cikgu Leman, suggested that
I moved to his brother’s house in Bukit Timbalan, which was near my
school. So not very long after that I moved to Pak Ngah Wahid’s house.
The house was a barrack with five families living side by side. A new episode
of my boyhood days began!

28 February 1995
LIVING IN A BARRACK
Each house in the barracks consisted of the front part which was the sitting
rooms; the sleeping area with a raised platform (pangkin) about three feet
off the floor and a separate kitchen, a few feet to the back of the main
house. There were two common bathrooms at each end of the barracks.
The toilets (with buckets, no flush system) were at one end. The floor of
the house was cement and the walls were planks. One could easily hear what
was going on next door.
Pak Ngah Wahid’s house was the second one on the right of the
barracks as you approach from the main road. He, therefore, had two
neighbours – one on the right and one on the left. All the occupants of the
barracks were employees of the Johor Medical Department. They were
either drivers or general workers of the department. Except for one Chinese
family, who lived at one end of the barracks, all the other four families were
Malays. They were very close to one another and seemed to be sharing
everything, especially gossips.
When I came to stay, there was already another person rooming
there. He was Mr. Ahmad Ghani who used to teach in my school. At that
time, he taught at the English College. He was from Muar. He occupied the
front part of the house where he had a bed, a table and a few chairs. At
night, I would be sleeping there too, on a mattress on the floor. During the
day, the mattress would be rolled up, with a pillow and blanket inside, and
pushed under Mr Ahmad Ghani’s bed.
One of the past-times I used to have while staying at Pak Ngah
Wahid’s house, was to stay up the many ‘pokok mentaga’ in front of the
house. There were a few boys around my age staying at the barracks who
58 | AHMAD HASSAN
became my close friends. After school and on weekends, we used to play
around the area including the school padang which was not far away. In front
of the barracks, there was this big building, which, according to people, used
to be a jailhouse, where they even hanged people there. This last part of the
information made the building, which was already gloomy, more eerie. I
don’t know how or why; the building was occupied by a few Indian families.
It was a two-storied building and the part which was occupied was mainly
the ground floor. We, boys, when we played ‘catching’, used to run all over
the building especially the top floor.
One day, we were playing this game and one of the boys was called
Keling. While chasing each other, I called out to this boy “Keling, keling!” and
when the Indians living there heard me, they were very angry. They thought
that I was insulting them by calling them Keling – a derogatory term
considered by them. Some of them wanted to catch and beat me, but I
managed to run away. After that, I never wanted to play there again. I stuck
to my pokok mentega, where I could see the strange building and its occupants
very clearly. We built a tree house on one of the trees.

2 March 1995
MOHAMMED BIN ALI
One of the hateful things I had to do while staying with Pak Ngah Wahid
was to do the dishes after each meal. This I did by squatting near the water
trough in the open space between the main house and the kitchen. I hated
doing this but what alternative did I have?
One of my classmates stayed not far away from my house. I used to
visit him, sometimes to discuss schoolwork or just talked. His name was
Mohammed bin Ali. His father, known as Baidali, was the famous original
mee rebus Johor maker. The mee is still famous and popular in JB now, being
prepared and sold by his sons and grandsons. Today, when I go to JB, I
must have this mee. Well, Mohammed Ali, had to bring the kuah (gravy)
from his house to his father’s stall, a distance of about a mile, every
afternoon. The kuah was carried in a big pot. It was heavy and poor
Mohammed Ali had to stop a few times on the way for rest. There were
many a time when I used to help him carry the gravy and, of course, I got a
free plate of mee rebus after that.
Another boy who became a close friend was Huzir. He lived not far
from my house. He used to come and join us playing around the house.
Later, I found out that he was Yem’s cousin and Dato’ Onn’s grandnephew.
When I was in Brinsford Lodge, one day he suddenly appeared. The last
time I saw him, he was married to Latifah Omar, the film star.
60 | AHMAD HASSAN
3 March 1995
MR. AHMAD GHANI
Mr Ahmad Ghani, who stayed at Pak Ngah Wahid’s house, as I did, was
teaching at the English College. He had a bicycle which he rode to work
every day. It was a red bicycle with white wheel fenders. I used to borrow
his bicycle a lot. He normally didn’t use the bike in the afternoon. Ahmad
Ghani was a rather quiet man. He didn’t speak very much. I remember when
he was teaching in my school, he came to our class to teach dictation. Even
his instructions were very brief. Somehow we didn’t give him any trouble.
When the lesson was over, he left the class as quietly as he came.
On certain days of the week, he used to have a visitor to the house.
They used to talk together and I was asked to leave them alone. That’s the
time when I would take the bike and cycle somewhere. Later, I found out
that the visit was for private tuition – Ahmad Ghani was having lessons on
short-hand. The visitor was his tutor.
At that time, Ahmad Ghani was still a bachelor. Not long after that,
he got married. He married a very pretty lady, named Rafeah, from his
hometown, Muar. They got married in Muar and he brought back his wife
to JB to stay with us at the barracks. Fortunately, at that time, Pak Ngah
Wahid took his family to Batu 4½ Skudai as Mak Ngah was giving birth to
their second child. So only the three of us were left in the house – Mr
Ahmad Ghani and his brand-new wife. I couldn’t help overhearing their
nocturnal activities every night!

4 March 1995
KELAB BOYAN
Then Mak Som moved to JB from Singapore. Pak Ali got a job in JB, driving
somebody’s car. As Pak Ali was a Boyanese, he was readily accepted to live
at the Kelab Boyan – a kind of community centre for Boyanese in JB. It was
a kind of long house with separate rooms for each family and some
common facilities, like a kitchen, toilets and bathrooms shared by all. When
Mak Som was staying here, I used to make regular visits to this place,
sometimes even spending weekends there.
The Boyanese who lived here were very friendly and respectful of
each other. I noticed that the younger ones always called the older ones
Abang, Kakak, Pak… or Mak… and so on. They were a community of about
twenty families – young and old. Although they were not related, they lived
like one big family. I never heard of cases of quarrelling and fights.
Mak Som didn’t stay here very long. They moved to rented rooms
(two) in a big house in Kampong Mohd Amin. This house used to be a
grand big house belonging to a Dato somebody. When he died it was
somehow left neglected. Somebody got the rights to it and rented it out to
several families. It was really in an appalling condition. There was piped
water but no electricity. The common bathroom used by everybody was
filthy and you could see maggots crawling around the toilets!
62 | AHMAD HASSAN
5 March 1995
SANDIWARA
The period just after the war was a period when the youths of the country,
well, at least those that I saw in Johor Bahru, were very active, especially in
the field of entertainment. In JB, at the time when I was staying with my
cousin, Long Hassan, in Tambatan Tinggi, the youths of Tambatan area
formed an association which they called PEPAT – Persatuan Pemuda
Tambatan. Actually the acronym was based on Jawi initials ‫ڤ ڤ ت‬.
One of their activities was to set up a group that performed stage
shows, referred to as sandiwara. They put up these shows at least once a
month on a specially built stage in the open area where the people of the
nearby kampong would congregate to see the show. The one, put up by
PEPAT was done on a panggong (stage) built in an open area in front of the
house I mentioned earlier.
Every time there was a show, I would follow members of the
household to see it, as it was an occasion that we all looked forward to.
Some of the stories were very interesting. I remember seeing ‘Gagak Hitam’,
‘Bangkai Bernyawa’, ‘Megat Terawis’, etc. one interesting fact was that all the
performers were male. They even dressed up as girls to do their part. In
between scenes, there would be songs, dances or comedy sketches.
It was the most popular form of entertainment at that time. The
cinema had not made its comeback yet. As the war was just over, films were
not easily available and many cinema houses were still closed. So the open-
air sandiwara shows, performed by local amateurs were the order of the day.
Almost every kampong had its sandiwara stage. In JB, besides the one in
Kampong Mohd Amin run by PEPAT, I knew there was one in kampong
and another in Tarum and I am sure there were others in other kampong in

JB. Even in Mersing, there was one in town. The most interesting thing
about the one in Mersing was that it used kerosene lights. This was because
Mersing didn’t have electricity at that time. So it was quite a common sight
to see helpers lowering the kerosene lamps each time the lights went dim
to increase the pressure by working on the pump. Because there was no
electricity, there was no PA system and the singers had to rely on their vocal
power to make the audience hear them.
Incidentally, all these shows were free and the local people would
congregate at the padang bringing their mats or stools or just sitting on
anything available, to see the show. To me, besides the story, it was the
music that really interested me. They had their own band which normally
consisted of an accordion or harmonium, a violin, a guitar, a double bass
and a set of drums. In both JB and Mersing, I had on some occasions the
opportunity to attend their practises and rehearsals.
64 | AHMAD HASSAN
7 March 1995
ACTING IN A SANDIWARA
The sandiwara stage shows, after the war, became not only very popular but
also very influential on the youths of the country at that time. Many young
people were involved in the staging of these shows. Panggung or stages were
erected in almost every kampong and the local people flocked to see the
shows.
I remember me and my cousins together with other boys in the
kampong in Mersing Kanan put up our own stage in front of our house. It
was only a small one but we managed to put up a show which, if I am not
mistaken, was called ‘Musallmah’ or something like that. In the play, my
brother took the leading part. The leading ‘lady’ was played by a boy named
Jusoh. I took a small part as a waitress in a restaurant where the climax of
the story took place. I can’t remember exactly how the story went. The part
that I remember well was that I, as an actor, was a complete failure. I just
stood there in the position that I was supposed to be, by the table, and just
stood there without saying a word and just stood there! Anyway, they all
said that I looked quite pretty as a girl.
Our panggung was very simple. The stage was about a foot off the
ground and about 10 feet by 5 feet in size. For curtains, we used bedsheets
and sarongs and, of course, for lights we used kerosene lamps.
There was also another group of people, on the town side of the
Mersing River, who organised their own sandiwara. Theirs was much better
as they even had real music, played by a small band. Actually, they started it
first and we just copied their effort. The person responsible for our show
was my cousin Jah (Khadijah) who came back to Mersing from Johor
Bahru. After seeing the one in Mersing Kiri (the town), Jah suggested that

we put up our own show. So she became the producer of the show. Our
audience was mainly our family members.
We played for a few nights and our effort must have been heard by
the other group mentioned previously. So they invited us to produce a joint
show. We were only too glad to accept the invitation. As they thought that
our story line was good, they decided to use it for the joint show. So once
again, my brother was the hero, Jusoh, the heroine and me the dumb
waitress. During the show, when I saw the audience, which was much
bigger, I was petrified with fear that I could hardly move – not that I had
to move much – and was so happy when my part was over. It was my first
experience in ‘show business’ and frankly I enjoyed it!
66 | AHMAD HASSAN
9 March 1995
YA’ACOB MOHAMED
As I recall, the persons who took part in these sandiwara were mostly young
working people. Some were clerks or government employees. I remember
the person who was very active in the one in Kampong Mohd Amin in
Johor Bahru was a man by the name of Ya’acob. He was a barber. He was
very eloquent and was a very good actor. Later, he went to Singapore and
became active in politics. He joined the PAP under Lee Kuan Yew and rose
to become a parliamentary secretary in one of the ministries. For a person
who didn’t have much formal education, he was doing very well indeed. I
was told that he originated in one of the kampongs near Mersing – I don’t
know how far that was true.
Another unforgettable character that I remember well was Omar
who always acted as a girl – what a beautiful ‘girl’ he was. Many men even
became crazy about ‘her’. Omar had a brother called Bakar. Bakar, too,
acted as a girl and was as ‘pretty’ as Omar. When these two brothers dressed
themselves as girls it was difficult to know if they were not really girls.
Anyway, everybody called them ‘pondan’. But they got married – to women,
of course – and got children.

10 March 1995
YEAST MAKING
My paternal grandmother, whom we called Tok, was an expert in making

yeast. The Malays used yeast for making tapai; pulut or ubi. The Chinese use
it for making samsu or rice wine. The yeast that Tok made was for making
samsu which was made by a Chinese samsu maker in Ulu Tiram near Kota
Tinggi. I am not sure whether the production of samsu was legal or not at
that time. Anyway, Tok supplied a great deal of yeast (ragi) to this samsu
maker – at least a few thousand pieces a month. She would put the yeast in
the big biscuit tins and deliver them herself to this man by taxi. She would
then proceed to Johor Bahru and returned to Mersing a few days after that.
The making of ragi is quite tedious. Besides knowing the various
ingredients (which only Tok knew the secret), the ingredients were pounded
with rice until the mixture became a powder. The powder was then mixed
with the right amount of water until it became a dough, which was then
kneaded until it became firm enough to be broken into small pieces, the size
slightly smaller than a ping-pong ball. These balls which were rolled by hand
were then put on a mat in rows and when the mat was full, it would be put
in the sun to dry. It took several hours for the yeast to dry and then packed
into tins.
Rolling the yeast dough into yeast pieces the size of a small ping-
pong ball was a tedious job. It was slow as it had to be done piece by piece.
Therefore, every available hand was needed. So we, children, were made to
sit around this mat with a basinful of dough and rolled it with both palms
and put the pieces onto the mat. It was important that the pieces were of
the same size. I had the tendency to either make them too small or too large.
Oh, how I hated doing this. It was back-breaking for it lasted between one
68 | AHMAD HASSAN
to two hours. We had to do this almost every day. Sometimes, I purposely
kept away from my grandmother’s house so as not to be made to do this
back-breaking job.
My grandmother made a lot of money from this occupation. I
remember she rewarded us – my two cousins, my brother and me – with a
suit of clothes each. Mine was a white shirt and shorts. The suit was made
by a Chinese tailor. This was my first suit made at a tailor after the war. Oh,
how proud I was the first time I wore it. Yes, as part of the reward I got the
opportunity to go with Tok to Johor Bahru in the taxi that carried the yeast
to Ulu Tiram. I remember, at Ulu Tiram, the taxi stopped in front of a
shophouse and the tins of yeast were taken into the shop by some Chinese
workers. Then, the taxi proceeded to JB. On our way home to Mersing, a
few days later, the taxi stopped once again at Ulu Tiram to collect the empty
tins and the payment.

12 March 1995
MY LIFE AT THE HOUSE NEAR LIDO BEACH
I don’t know for how long Tok continued making the yeast. But when the
family moved to Johor Bahru, there was no more yeast-making. I
mentioned earlier that when Long Hassan got married, we had to move out
of his house near the school and moved to the house near Lido beach. Well,
at this house, there were six other cousins of mine staying there. They were
Ajid (Majid), Che’ Ah and her husband, Ail (Ismail), Ibrahim, Jah (Khadijah)
and Nah (Hasnah). Ajid and Che’ ah were brother and sister and the siblings
of Long Hassan. Ismail and Jah were brother and sister and Ibrahim, of
course, was the adopted son of Uda, and Nah was the adopted daughter of
Angah Gayah, Long Hassan’s mother. Oh, I forgot there was another
cousin actually; Atan, Ismail’s and Jah’s younger brother.
The head of the household was Angah Gayah. Ajid was the eldest of
the cousins and he worked as a fireman at the Naval Base in Woodlands in
Singapore, just across the causeway. Ismail was in the British Army, also in
Singapore. Ibrahim worked as a barboy at a British Army Officers’ Mess,
also in Singapore. Jah, Hasnah and I were in school. Che’ Ah’s husband,
Che Ali (Jemali) worked as a clerk in NAAFI (Navy, Army and Air Forces
Institutes) of the British Army. Not very far from the house was a British
Army recreation centre run by NAAFI. I remember following Che Ali to
this centre some evening where I saw him talking to his friends and drinking
beer. I was given some orange juice.
70 | AHMAD HASSAN
13 March 1995
CHE’ AH AND CHE ALI
Che’ Ali was the only male adult in the house who was English educated.
So to him, I went for help whenever I had difficulty with my English
homework. He was very helpful and the two of us often spoke in English
which gave me an opportunity to practise my spoken English. At about this
time, Che’ Ah, Che Ali’s wife (my cousin) was expecting their first child.
She spent most of her time sewing baby clothes, baby pillowcases and so
on. As I was good in drawing, Che’ Ah would ask me to draw flowers and
butterflies on the baby pillowcases. Then she would stitch on the outline
drawings with coloured threads. The results were quite beautiful and I was
very proud to be a part of the handiwork.
Che’ Ah read the Koran very well. She had a beautiful voice. Every
night during her pregnancy, she would read Surah Yusof. It was believed that
if an expecting mother read that particular surah from the Koran, the child
if it’s a son, would come out very handsome. So, Abdul Rahman was born
and he was a beautiful baby. I met him not very long time ago. Well, he was
not as handsome as his son, Zul, who graduated from the hotel and catering
school where I used to be the principal.
Che Ali and Che’ Ah later moved to Singapore where Che Ali worked
with the City Hall. There they got several more children. Che Ali died when
some of the children were still small. Now the children are doing quite well
in Kuala Lumpur.

14 March 1995
LONG HASSAN
Che’ Ah and her two elder brothers, Long Hassan and Ajid were still small
when their father died. So they looked up to my father (their uncle) as their
father. They even called my father ayah sometimes, otherwise, they called
him Chik. All my other cousins called my father Chik.
Long Hassan, being the eldest, was a very responsible person. He
was also very smart. He was chosen to go to SITC Tanjong Malim when he
finished his schooling, to become a teacher. I don’t remember where he
started teaching after he came out of college. I only came to know him well
during the Japanese occupation when he was the Headmaster of Sekolah
Melayu Tambatan Tinggi. As I had mentioned earlier, it was at his house
that I and my brother and two cousins had our circumcision done.
Long, as we called him, was a bachelor for a long time. He got
married quite late. His wife was a headmistress of a girls’ school and was
called Sharifah Zainab (?). She died after having four or five children (I
know only two of them well). Long remarried and got a few more children
(I don’t know any of them). Long himself died a few years later. Long was
really like a guardian to me. He looked after me when I started schooling in
English school. When I wanted to ask for the hand of my wife in marriage
it was Long who went to Seremban to meet Dr. Mohd Said.
72 | AHMAD HASSAN
15 March 1995
LONG’S CHILDREN
Long’s two children that I know well are Zahrah and Hamzah. Zahrah,
whom I know since she was a baby, later went to the university with me.
We were in the same year and sometimes attended the same lectures. The
reason why I was with her in the university although I was almost twice her
age, was because I went to the university late, at the age of 35.
At the university, Zahrah met her present husband, Subki, who was
studying in the same year as her. Hamzah joined the army and married a
dental surgeon. Recently, I met him at the Heart Institute (IJN). He was
having a heart by-pass operation and now is recuperating from it. His other
brother, Mokhtar, whom I don’t know very well, also had an angioplasty
done on him.
Well, looks like my side of the family seems to have a history of heart
problems. Long Hassan died of a heart attack too. Ajid, my other cousin,
Long’s younger brother died when he was still very young. But he was
murdered! He was then a corporal in the British army in Singapore. It
seemed, one day, while he was having his meal in the mess, a fellow soldier
stabbed him in the back. He was taken to the hospital and died. The fellow
who stabbed him somehow got away with it as the court found him insane.
He was defended by the famed David Marshall.

16 March 1995
AJID
Ajid was an interesting character. Although he did not go very far in his
education – he only finished Malay primary school – but he was quite smart.
As a boy, he was active in scouting. It was here that he learnt to be an
extrovert and was always showing off his talents, especially in making
people laugh. Later when he was in the army, he appeared on a radio show
a few times with some of his friends. I can’t remember what the show was
called but it was a comedy sketch where Ajid spoke in the Kelantanese
twang. He was also good at imitating other people and he also sang. He was
waiting for a chance to be in show business. Had he lived, I think he would
have made it.
Ajid was also a dandy. He was very particular about his dress and
always dressed in the latest style of that time. He even designed his own
shirts for the tailor to sew. When he was a bachelor and working as a
fireman at the naval base, he had this friend who was really close to him.
His friend’s name was Rahman. Every afternoon, his friend would come to
the house and then the two of them, dressed stylishly, would go somewhere.
We, the small boys, would look with admiration at these two young men
about town.
74 | AHMAD HASSAN
17 March 1995
JAH, MY COUSIN
My cousin, Jah, was very clever in school. She always topped her class and
was very active in all her school activities. It’s a pity that she didn’t have a
chance to go to an English school. It seemed that Tok didn’t like the idea
of her going to an English school. What a pity.
Anyway, she went on to become a teacher after being framed under
the Normal Class training scheme. I still remember when she was still in
school, she used to teach me to read the Koran, as I had difficulty reading it.
I was always scared of being asked by my religious schoolteacher to read
the Koran in class, aloud. So, before the class, I would practise first with the
help of Jah.
Jah could also sing very well but she never sang in public. Jah’s
marriage to Atan, a good friend of Ismail’s (Jah’s elder brother), ended in
divorce after getting a son and two daughters. Now, Jah is married to Aziz,
whom I find a very likeable man indeed. Jah has retired from teaching and
the last time I met her, she told me that she spent her time teaching children
to read the Koran. When I was still an inspector of schools, I visited a girls’
school in Johor Bahru, SIGS Primary, and to my pleasant surprise, I found
Jah teaching there. That was her last teaching post.

18 March 1995
THE BIG HOUSE IN KAMPONG MOHD AMIN
When Mak Som moved to Johor Bahru and stayed in the rented rooms in
the big house, I mentioned earlier, Cek came to stay with her. After a while,
I moved in to stay with her too. As at that time I was attending the English
College, it was very convenient for me to go to school. The house was in
Kampong Mohd Amin and the school was just at the edge of the kampong.
I explained earlier that this house had no electricity but there was piped
water. The big bathroom with a big ‘kolah’, an open water trough in the
centre, was shared by all the families staying on the ground floor. The
people who lived on the upper floor shared another bathroom there. For
bed, I slept on a pangkin, a raised platform made from some timber. I even
made my own table and chairs from some timber I collected from a
demolished house nearby. The table was used for meals and for doing my
homework.
After staying there for a few months, Mak Som bought an old house,
which was on the verge of collapse, in Kampong Jawa. The house was
pulled down and a new one built on the site. The main structure and the
roof were built by a relative (Ayu’s son-in-law) who was a carpenter. The
rest was done by Pak Ali and me. I did the windows and part of the walls. I
also did the cement floor of the front and back parts of the house. There
was no water and electricity. For water, there was a well about 150 meters
away.
76 | AHMAD HASSAN
19 March 1995
THE HOUSE IN KAMPONG JAWA
At this place, I had a good friend who was also attending the same school
as me. His name was Hamidon. We used to walk to school together every
morning and after school used to play around the house, sometimes at his
house and sometimes at my house. Kak Esah, Mak Som’s stepdaughter, and
her husband (Kak Esah’s) also lived at this house.
Kak Esah’s husband, Abang Yusof was crazy about bodybuilding.
He was a short fellow and every day he would do some exercise under the
tree just outside the house. Suspended from the tree trunk was a set of
Roman rings. Here, Abang Yusof would pull himself up the Roman rings
and by pulling and lowering himself up and down the Roman rings, he
would develop his arms and chest muscles. Hamidon and I sometimes
would try our hands at the Roman rings and we found it tough.
Around the house, there were a lot of trees, especially, rubber trees.
I liked getting up early here, at about five in the morning. I would study by
the open window with the help of a kerosene lamp until it was bright
enough for me to go to the well for my bath. Then I was ready to go to
school with Hamidon.

20 March 1995
PLAYING IN THE BIG DRAIN
In spite of all the shortcomings that I was facing living here, such as no
water and electricity, I enjoyed myself very much. The school wasn’t too far
and we (Midon and I) had plenty of space to roam around. This we often
did, walking through the senduduk and tembusu trees, looking for, well,
nothing in particular, but just for some fun.
Not far from the house, there was this big drain with a wooden
bridge across it. When there was a heavy rain, the drain would be swollen
and it flowed with a tremendous speed. It was very dangerous to be
anywhere near it then. There were incidents where children were swept
away by the swift water and the bodies were later found in the sea, miles
away from where they fell. Now thinking about it, I really wonder how
nothing happened to us; when we actually jumped into the rushing water
and let ourselves be carried by the current until we caught hold of the
wooden bar across the river near the bridge. We somehow knew that the
bar was there. What if it wasn’t? We would have suffered the same fate as
the children I mentioned earlier. Now, just thinking about it makes me
shiver.
Most of the people who lived here were Javanese. Thus the kampong
was called Kampong Jawa. Somehow, there were a few Terengganu families
living there. Most of them were cloth traders. They rented houses in this
kampong while they did business here.
78 | AHMAD HASSAN
21 March 1995
PAK SHAM, THE BARBER
The Terengganu people naturally became our friends, knowing that we had
our origin in Terengganu. There was this young man, I can’t remember his
name, who used to come to the house quite often. One evening, when he
was at our house, he asked me if I could teach him English. I told him I
could. So began our hilarious English lessons that went on for only a short
while. I said hilarious because I couldn’t help laughing at the way he
pronounced the words that I taught him. He, too, laughed but never quit
trying. I remember trying to explain to him what the word ‘collar’ meant.
Then he touched his shirt collar and said in typical Terengganu Malay “Ni,
debbing lembek ni?”. Anyway, the lessons stopped as abruptly as they started.
Another interesting person that I can’t forget was this old man, a
lovable Boyanese, Pak Sham*, who was the kampong barber. He normally
worked at a barber shop with another barber but he also made house-calls.
He often came to the house to chat with Pak Ali. Together, they would talk
for hours in Boyanese. I don’t really know what they were saying. Anyway,
I enjoyed the sound.
*I initially could not remember his name but remembered it suddenly in the
middle of the night, two weeks later.

22 March 1995
KAMPONG LUKUT
At about this time, Abang, my brother, graduated from SITC – Sultan Idris
Training College – Tanjong Malim. He became a qualified Malay school
teacher. His first posting was at Sekolah Melayu Bukit Lintang, about eight
miles from Kota Tinggi – on the way to the Kota Tinggi waterfalls. At that
time, the place was quite remote and the bus service was rather irregular.
The bus from Kota Tinggi town would stop at Lombong Village and from
there one had to walk to Kampong Lukut where the school was, a distance
of about a mile or a mile and a half.
Kampong Lukut was and still is inhabited by people who were
originally from Negeri Sembilan. They not only speak with Negeri Sembilan
twang but also practised some form of Adat Pepateh, a matriarchal system. I
was told that these people’s ancestors were from Lukut in Negeri Sembilan.
It seemed that the two brothers had a misunderstanding and one of them
together with his supporters ran away and settled down in Bukit Lintang,
Kota Tinggi and called the place Lukut too.
The school building here was identical to the one that I attended in
Mersing Kanan. In fact, most Malay schools in the state of Johor then, were
identical. As my brother was alone, Cek came to stay with him in a rented
house quite close to the school. I often went there, especially during school
holidays.
80 | AHMAD HASSAN
23 March 1995
MY FIRST BICYCLE
I don’t know how much Abang’s pay was at that time, but after a few
months, he was able to buy me a bicycle. It was a new bike and it was a
Rudge Sports. I was thrilled when he told me, one day, that he was buying
me a bicycle. We went to Kota Tinggi town from Lukut by bus. At the
bicycle shop, we selected this particular bike which was green in colour. It
was shiningly new. I can’t remember how much it cost. It must be
something like fifty or sixty Ringgit which was a lot of money at that time.
After buying the bicycle we wanted to return to Lukut, but how do
we carry the bicycle? I told my brother that I could ride the bicycle while he
took the bus. He didn’t agree at first but I assured him that I would be all
right. So he took the bus and I rode the ten miles home! The ride was really
thrilling; tiring but thrilling. For the first time, I rode my own bicycle. When
we reached home, we showed the bicycle to Cek. She was more concerned
about my safety riding the bicycle and gave all sorts of advice such as to get
down from the bicycle when there was a car or lorry coming! Both my
brother and I were excited about the new bicycle and took turns riding
around the house. Then it was time for me to return to Johor Bahru. I rode
to Kota Tinggi and then put the bicycle in the back of a taxi. In JB, I rode
my brand-new bicycle home!
Now that I had a bicycle, it was very convenient for me to go to
school. Before that, I had to walk to school. By about that time too, I joined
the Sea Scout Troop, which was run by Mr. Taib (Wak Yeb). The scout den
was at my former school, Bukit Zahrah School, for Mr Taib was still
teaching there. We had our meetings once a week, but I used to go there
very often. With my bicycle, it was no problem. I also used to spend a lot

of time at my school in the afternoons, either for sports and games or other
co-curricular activities. One of the clubs that I was active in was the Camera
Club, where we not only learnt how to take pictures but also how to develop
films and print and enlarge pictures.
Having a bicycle then was like having a car today. It made you very
mobile and you could go anywhere you liked. And if your bicycle was new
and of good quality, like Rudge sports, which was next only to Raleigh
Sports, you were among the top bicycle owners! I must say, I was among
the lucky ones and caused envy among some of my friends. Poor Midon,
he had to ride an old bicycle belonging to his uncle, when we went to school
together. Later, I even got a better bicycle. But that’s another story.
82 | AHMAD HASSAN
25 March 1995
MY SECOND BICYCLE
My brother didn’t stay very long at Bukit Lintang Malay School for he was
soon transferred to Sekolah Melayu Kota Tinggi. The school was right in
the middle of the town, next to the river. In Kota Tinggi, my brother rented
a house in Kampong Jawa, about a mile and a half from the school. By now,
I spent almost every weekend in Kota Tinggi with my brother and my great-
grandmother. As my brother had to travel quite a distance to his school, he
too needed a bicycle. So he bought himself a Raleigh Sports, a bicycle much
better than the one he bought for me. When I saw this bicycle, I couldn’t
help wanting it for myself. I can’t remember how we decided, but we found
ourselves exchanging bicycles!
One weekend I brought my green bicycle to Kota Tinggi and
returned to JB with the shiny new black Raleigh Sports. I used this bicycle
for a long time until I left for England to study at the Malayan Teachers
College, Brinsford Lodge, Wolverhampton. I don’t really know what
happened to the bicycle. It seemed that while I was away, it was being used
by my housemates in JB. When I returned from England, I could hardly
recognise the bicycle. It looked like a piece of junk. It was now the age of
motor cars!

26 March 1995
THE SAND-COVERED CAKES
I narrated earlier that I was separated from my family when the war broke
and was not reunited with them until almost a year later. After our tearful
reunion, I stayed with my family in Kampong Scudai, Johor Bahru, in a
house rented by my stepfather Cikgu Leman. My brother was there and so
was my aunty, Che Nga. I remember Abang, my brother, and Che Nga were
made to sell cakes by going round the kampong.
One day, there were selling putu piring. The cakes were carried in a
basket. As they were crossing a drain, my brother who had the basket of
cakes on his arms, fell. All the cakes from the basket fell onto the ground.
Just imagine how frightened they were as the cakes were all over the ground
and most of them were covered with sand. They quickly picked up the
cakes, brushed away the sand the best they could, and put them back into
the basket. They then continued selling the cakes. When buyers saw that the
cakes were covered with some sand, they refused to buy. So my brother and
my aunty returned home without selling any of the cakes. They were so
frightened of being scolded for what had happened that they cried as soon
as they arrived home. Somehow they were only lightly reprimanded.
84 | AHMAD HASSAN
27 March 1995
BATU 4½ SCUDAI
Batu Empat Setengah Scudai – that was the name of the village, was not
very far away from the sea, but it could not be seen from our house on
account that there were many trees between the houses and the sea. Nearer
the sea was the mangrove swamp. One interesting thing about the village
was that whenever there was a high tide, the part of the village nearer the
sea would be flooded. Many houses, including ours, would be under
between five to twelve inches of water. To us, the children, it was great. We
would be playing in the water, either rowing in small boats or just running
about in the shallow part of the water.
This kampong was actually the kampong of my stepfather. He was born
and bred here. When he married my mother, he only had his mother, an
elder brother and a younger sister. His father had died earlier. When we first
came to this kampong, we stayed at my stepfather’s mother’s house. Later,
we moved to a rented house nearby. The people who lived here were the
original Malays of Johore. They must’ve been living here for a very long
time. They were very loyal subjects of the Sultan of Johor. In their houses,
you would see pictures of the Sultan and the Johor Royal family prominently
displayed.

28 March 1995
When I was staying with Pak Ngah Wahid, my stepfather’s elder brother, I
used to come to this kampong quite often. In fact, at one time when Pak
Ngah Wahid’s wife gave birth to their second child, they moved temporarily
to this kampong to deliver the baby and to spend her time in confinement.
Pak Ngah Wahid’s wife was also from this kampong. Her father must’ve been
a prominent figure in the kampong – must be a penghulu or somebody like
that, I never really know. At that time her father had passed away, leaving
her mother and a younger sister. Their house was about the biggest one
there with a substantial compound. So, as Pak Ngah and his wife moved to
this kampong, I, too, had to follow them. This means that I had to travel
about 4½ miles each way to go to school daily.
Fortunately, Pak Ngah had this old and big bicycle that he allowed
me to use. The bicycle was so big that my feet barely reached the pedals.
Anyway, I travelled on this bicycle for almost a month and a half. The
distance was not only far but the bicycle was very uncomfortable to ride.
The only consolation was that the route was along the beach and I enjoyed
seeing people swimming and picnicking there.
86 | AHMAD HASSAN
29 March 1995
Now, coming back to the time when I was staying with my mother and Cek
and the rest of the family in Kampong Batu Empat Setengah Scudai, when
the Japanese were already ruling the country, we all decided to go back to
Mersing. I can’t remember how, but except for my mother, stepfather and
their son, Sallehuddin, we all went back to Mersing.
In Mersing, at that time, a lot of new houses were built to replace all
those burned down by the British before they left. At the place where our
former house was, a row of single-storey shophouses was built. This was
just a simple building made of wood, zinc and attap.
When we arrived in Mersing, we had no place to stay. My
grandmother, Mak Wok, rented one of the shophouses and we all stayed
there. Mak Wok and Cek made cakes for sale, to support us all. I don’t
remember my brother, Abang, being there with us. I think he was still in
Johor Bahru, with my mother. So the people who were staying in this house
were: Cek, Mak Wok, Che Nga, Zaiton (my sister) and me. Mak Wok later
married a man called Ngah and he too stayed there. But the marriage didn’t
last long. They were divorced after a few months. To me, the most
interesting thing about staying here was my little hut that we built behind
the house. The hut was partly above some sort of a pond.

30 March 1995
At about this time Ayah Awang, my adoptive father was building a house
which later became my mother’s. As I mentioned earlier, before the house
was complete, Ayah Awang sold it to my mother. My mother and the rest
of the family returned to Mersing a few months after us and stayed with
Mak Wok until the house built by Ayah Awang was ready to be occupied.
Cek and I moved into this house too. So now, my mother, my stepfather,
my brother (Abang), my half-brother (Din), Cek and I were staying together
again. While staying here, my mother was expecting a baby.
One day, Cek followed Mak Wok to Singapore. Mak Wok went to
Singapore at the end of every month to collect her late husband’s pension.
On their way home to Mersing, as they were travelling in the only bus
service which also carried the mail, the bus was stopped by some
communist terrorists. There was a policeman on the bus who acted as an
escort. The terrorists shot the policeman in front of all the passengers. Cek
and Mak Wok saw the whole episode. The passengers were asked to get
down and the terrorists took away all the belongings of the passengers. The
news of the attack reached us at home and when my mother heard this, she
was shocked and bled, aborting the baby she was carrying. Cek and Mak
Wok returned safely.
My mother and Cikgu Leman decided to move to Endau. Mak Wok,
Che Nga and Zaiton, besides Cek, me and Ayah Long also decided to go
along. So the whole family moved to Endau. The only person who didn’t
follow was Abang, my brother. He decided to stay in Mersing with Uda. In
Endau, we stayed in a large house in a kampong near the mouth of Endau
River, on the Pahang side. I can’t remember the name of the kampong. This
house was all by itself without any other houses nearby. Around it was a lot
of mangosteen and coconut trees. It was just like staying in the jungle with
88 | AHMAD HASSAN
trees all round. The house was nice – high up from the ground – on stilts.
I was not allowed to play anywhere on the ground alone. Sometimes we saw
a herd of buffaloes roaming around the area. They looked very fierce. At
night, we even heard bears but we never saw them. The best part of staying
here was being able to see wild peacocks strutting in front of the house in
their beautiful plumes. The moment you tried to go near them, they would
fly away. My stepfather often took me fishing in the river nearby. He would
row this little boat with me in it until we reached the place where we would
fish.

1 April 1995
Mak Wok, my grandmother, remarried Ayah Long, my grandfather when

we were staying at this big, isolated house. One day, Ayah Long collected
some kind of roots which the local people called ubi gadong. The roots
looked very much like yam. They can be eaten if properly treated first.
Otherwise, it can be poisonous. Ayah Long put the roots, after cleaning
them, into jars and filled the jars with water. The water had to be changed
daily. Normally after about five days, the roots can be cooked and eaten.
So one morning, the roots in the jar were taken out, cleaned and
boiled. When it was cooked, the boiled roots looked very nice to eat. I
remember the ubi was yellow in colour, looking like pulut kuning. That
morning, the whole family had ubi gadong for breakfast. Not very long after
that, my younger brother, Din, who was the youngest (he was then about 3
years old) started crying and walking around like a drunkard. Then, my
great-grandmother, she could not get up, complaining of weakness in the
legs. Soon everyone suffered from dizziness; some even vomited. Only then
we realised that we all suffered from ‘mabok gadong’ – symptoms of gadong
root poisoning. Anyway, by the evening, everyone was all right again. No
one touched ubi gadong again after that. As for me, even at the mention of
the words ubi gadong, I feel nauseous.
90 | AHMAD HASSAN
2 April 1995
Mak Wok’s remarriage to Ayah Long was too good to be true for they
divorced again after a few months. I didn’t and still don’t understand why
Mak Wok, my maternal grandmother couldn’t hold a husband for very long.
Except for the sea captain whom she married and stayed with in Singapore,
all her other marriages ended in divorce. The sea captain died while they
were still married.
I wasn’t close to Mak Wok – I was scared of her. I thought that she
was rather strict and not at all friendly to us; my brother and me. I remember
once, when I was still quite small, going to her house and was given lunch.
I was forced to eat although I didn’t like the food. As I was scared of her, I
swallowed the food, forced it down and almost choked to death.
After Mak Wok divorced Ayah Long, not long after, she married a
local man named Pak Ali. Pak Ali was a maker of ‘gula kerek’. Gula kerek is
a kind of sugar made from the nectar collected from the unopened flowers
of the coconut trees. Everyday Pak Ali would climb the coconut trees with
a very sharp knife specially made for the job and slice off the tip of the
unopened coconut flowers and put a bamboo receptacle into it. The
bamboo tube, about 18 inches long with a diameter of about 4 inches, is
called ‘tukir’. It can hold between 1.5 to 2 pints of liquid. By the next
morning, this bamboo container would be filled with the nectar called
‘nyira’. The nyira is very sweet.
After all the nyira had been collected, it would be taken to the hut
where it would be boiled until it became a sticky mess like melted chocolate.
The cooking of this liquid was done in a big wok about 4 feet in diameter.
When the liquid was thickening it would be continuously stirred with a long
wooden ladle. Only an expert knows how to stir the boiling liquid to its
correct texture.

As the liquid thickens, the colour changes from colourless liquid to
yellow and then to light brown. I was always fascinated at seeing the gula
kerek maker stirring the thickening liquid. At certain strokes of the ladle, the
liquid bubbled and when the bubble broke, it made a booming sound. The
sound could be heard for quite a distance. When the villagers heard the
sound, they would all say, “Ah, the sugar is about ready”. Where the liquid
reached the required consistency, the wok would be tilted to one side, ready
for the liquid to be scooped with a flat wooden knife and put into pandan
rings, each the size of a small saucer, arranged in rows on a mat. The job
must be done quickly with dexterity or the liquid would solidify and it could
not be scooped up into the rings. After a few hours, the gula kerek would be
dry and hard, ready to be handled like a round ½ inch-thick disc about 4
inches in diameter. The gula is very nice to eat or used as sugar.
92 | AHMAD HASSAN
4 April 1995
It is quite a common practise among Malays, especially those living in the

kampong, to give people nicknames. Almost everybody has a nickname,
especially those whose names are Mat (a short form of Mohammad or
Ahmad). Mat will inevitably be followed by something like Mat Zorro. Mat
seems to be the most popular name followed by a nickname because the
names Mohammad or Ahmad seem to be the most common names among
the Malays. This, however, does not mean that other names are spared from
having nicknames e.g. Man or Raman Tango, etc. the nicknames are given
for easy identification of the persons, and they are given based on a number
of things associated with the persons.
Sometimes the person’s look can be the cause for a nickname e.g.
Mat Katak, because he looks like a frog; Aman Belon because his tummy is
like a balloon and so on. A person’s occupation or job can also be the reason
e.g. Pak Ali Sadat (my grandmother’s fourth husband) because he was a gula
kerek maker (‘sadat’ is the action of cutting the coconut flowers for the
nectar). In modern times, you hear people calling factory girls, Minah Karan
and the boys, Mat Spanar. Those who escaped from being given nicknames,
like me, they are called with their father’s name after their own e.g. I’m
called Mat Asan (Ahmad Hassan).

5 April 1995
After our return from Hulu Bejubang, we stayed with Mak Wok in her new
husband’s house for a while. Later, my mother moved to a house nearby.
Cek returned to Mersing. I stayed on with my mother who was expecting a
baby. She was often unwell and had to stay in bed most of the time. I
remember one day I had to do the cooking. My mother who was lying in
bed, directed me by giving instructions as to what to do. She would call out
from the bed to tell me to take this or that and put this and that and I would
follow her instructions carefully until at last the cooking was done. This
began my first formal lesson in cooking. Before that, I was used to seeing
my mother and my great-grandmother cooking. So when it came for me to
learn, it wasn’t very difficult. After a few more instructions from my mother,
I was able to do it on my own, although the dishes that I prepared were
simple ones – kampong dishes.
I can’t really remember how long we stayed here. Cikgu Leman, my
stepfather, was working as a boatman rowing a boat that carried passengers
across the Endau River from the Pahang side, where we stayed to the Johor
side, the town. The place where we stayed was called Tanjong Gemok.
From here, we moved to a place where we became paddy planters.
94 | AHMAD HASSAN
6 April 1995
I don’t know how it worked but the government then gave people land for
planting paddy. My stepfather, along with others, was given four acres of
‘jungle’, which he had to clear and plant with paddy. First, he had to cut
down the trees and they were huge ones. This must be done together with
the other people who owned the adjacent lands. All the land given and these
people had the road frontage – in other words, the new road built by the
Japanese, from Endau to Pekan, passed by the land.
When my stepfather was clearing the land, I returned to Mersing.
Then one day, I was told that my stepfather was taken to the hospital in
Mersing. He almost chopped off his leg while chopping down the trees! It
wasn’t a surprise because this job was new to him but my stepfather was a
person who would try anything. As soon as his ankle was all right again, he
went back to his work. When all the trees were chopped down, then came
the part when the fallen logs and branches had to be burnt. During the time,
the fire would be burning for days, glowing day and night, spewing smoke
into the sky and the glow could be seen for miles. When the fire died down,
then the planting began. First the nursery.
A space in the land was cleared and paddy seeds were strewn on it.
A few days later, little paddy plants were seen. Soon they grew to about a
foot above the ground. They were so close together and had not much
space to grow bigger. These were the seedlings ready to be pulled out and
replanted in the paddy field. The planting time was a time when you needed
more hands. It was a slow process and back-breaking too. So my brother
and I were called from Mersing to help. The house at the paddy field was
not ready yet. We stayed about a mile away.

One day, my brother and I decided to build our own hut so that we didn’t
have to travel a mile each way every day. With some poles gathered around
the area, we constructed a hut that was big enough to sleep five people. It
was very tall. The floor was about seven or eight feet from the ground and
was made from small wooden poles. The roof was made from broad leaves
arranged on wooden rafters and the same material was used for walls. The
reason for the height was to protect ourselves from wild animals such as
tigers and wild boars which were known to come out at night. We stayed in
this hut until our house was ready.
I actually didn’t like doing the work of pulling out the seedlings and
replanting them. I was very slow doing it and was scolded by my mother
for it. One day, my mother was very angry with me for not wanting to do
the job. She told me that it would be better if I went back to Mersing. That
night, I was sulking away and refused to eat. I decided to return to Mersing.
At that time, the bus service from Mersing to Endau and back to Mersing
was only once a day and was always fully booked. Although I knew that it
wasn’t easy to get a seat on the bus unless you book very early. I was
determined to return to Mersing even if I had to walk. I told my brother
about it and he was worried about what I was going to do. So he decided to
come along with me.
The next morning, we woke up early and told our mother that we
were going back to Mersing. She didn’t stop us, instead, she said that it was
up to us. We walked for two and a half miles to the bus station. As expected,
we couldn’t get a seat on the bus. My brother and I went round the town
looking for a ride to Mersing but there were none. So the two of us decided
to walk the 23 miles. The middle part of the route was actually through the
jungle. Nervously, we set off on our journey.
96 | AHMAD HASSAN
9 April 1995
WALKING FROM ENDAU TO MERSING
Before we set off on our walk to Mersing, we bought ourselves six pieces
of ‘apam kukus’. With the cakes nicely wrapped up in a handkerchief, we
walked briskly out of the town towards Mersing. At first, the walk was
through the town and the villages outside the town. Then the road became
more and more lonely until it began to go through the jungle. Big trees and
over-grown undergrowth were on both sides of the road. On some parts,
the leaves of trees on either side of the road seemed to touch each other
forming a kind of canopy over the road.
After about two hours of non-stop walking, we must’ve covered
about 5 or 6 miles. A major part of the road was laterite and though walking
barefooted, we didn’t feel uncomfortable. Then the rain came all of a
sudden, drenching us to the skin. We didn’t stop but continued walking,
holding each other round the shoulders. We were not afraid but felt cold.
There was no place to stop. Then we heard the sound of a motor engine. It
was a lorry coming from behind us. We waved to it to stop. It was a PWD
(Public Works Department) lorry with some workers in it. It didn’t stop.
Instead, the people in it waved back and just laughed. It was then that I
started to cry. The rain stopped. We continued walking and shared the cakes
whenever we felt hungry.
After about nine hours of walking, with brief stops, we finally
reached Mersing at about 5 pm. In order to reach our house, we had to pass
in front of our aunty’s house which was by the main road. We didn’t want
to be seen by her or any member of her family. If any of them did, we would
be questioned as to why we were walking there. Then the whole story would
come out. We wanted to keep our walk from Endau to Mersing a secret. In

fact, no one really knows about our walk until today. Well, in order not to
be seen by our aunty, we took a diversion – we cut across to the beach
which was about 400 yards (365 metres) from the main road and walked on
it until we came to Tanjong (the fishing village) and cut back to the main
road. From there, we walked home.
Cek was surprised to see us appearing out of nowhere. She wanted
to know how we got there. We lied to her, saying that we hitched a ride on
a lorry from Endau. She somehow believed us. As she wanted to prepare
dinner for us and there was nothing much in the house, she asked me to go
to the shop about 800 metres away, to buy a few things, I took the money
and ran to the shop and after buying the things Cek wanted, I ran back.
Didn’t I feel tired? I don’t know, I can’t remember.
98 | AHMAD HASSAN
11 April 1995
There’s one part that I forgot to mention about our stay in Hulu Bejubang.
Now I remember why we went there in the first place. We went there to be
hired as rice harvesters. While waiting for the harvesting to begin, we stayed
in the house that I was telling about earlier; the place where I got lost. The
paddy field that we were to harvest was on the other side of the river. After
about a week or so, the harvest began and we moved to this new place.
My first impression of the paddy field was of one vast expanse of a
golden field with houses which seemed to pop out of the field at a certain
distance from each other. We were taken to this house whose paddy we
were to harvest. The funny thing was that none of us had any experience
harvesting paddy. But we soon learnt how and were able to do the job pretty
well.
An experienced harvester could harvest about 10 baskets of paddy
stalks a day. One basket could hold about 100 to 150 stalks (tangkai) of
paddy. We, being new, could only come up with between 3 to 4 baskets a
day. As for me, I think I produced about 1 or 2 baskets only. If I am not
mistaken, we were paid according to the number of baskets we produced.
If I am not wrong, the rate was one basket to every ten you produced. To
us, this was our first experience in paddy farming.
The houses built by the paddy farmers were somehow identical.
Every house had a ‘pelantar’ or platform in front of it. This platform which
was of the same height as the house extended about 15 to 20 feet long and
about 10 to 12 feet wide. The floor of the platform was of ‘nibong’ splits
which were very strong. In fact, nibong splits were used for the floors of all
houses there. Somewhere on the platform, a rectangular hole about 18 by
20 feet was made with a pole suspended below it. The hole is for the ‘lesong’
to be put in with the suspended pole barely touching the bottom of the

lesong. When the paddy is pounded in the lesong, the bottom of the lesong will
touch the pole, producing a kind of resonance that could be heard for miles,
especially at night.
When I heard the sound for the first time, I was fascinated by it and
it soon became something that I always looked forward to. The pounding
of the paddy was normally done by women – sometimes 3 or 4 ladies would
work on a lesong at the same time. It takes some skill to do this. This timing
must be perfect or else you would clash with one another. When 3 or 4
people work on one lesong, the sound is most musical, like the beating of
far-away drums.
Inside the house there was a special place where the harvested paddy
was kept. This place was called kapok – a walled-up place – almost reaching
the ceiling. The wall was made of mengkuang or pandanus leaves stitched
together, more like a screen than a wall. The paddy that was kept here was
meant to be stored there until it was required to be used.
When the paddy needed to be processed into rice, the paddy seeds
which were still attached to the stalks were taken out and heaped onto a
mat. Then the farmers would step onto the heap of paddy with bare feet,
moving the feet against each other as if rubbing the paddy stalks to detach
the paddy seeds from the stalks. When all the seeds were detached from the
stalks, the stalks were removed from the mat leaving only the paddy seeds.
This action is called ‘mengirek’. Then the paddy seeds were spread on the
mat and put in the sun for a few minutes before they are pounded to remove
the husk. After the mengirek and the stalks were removed, the paddy seeds
were put in a bamboo tray and the farmers would raise the tray to head level
and pour out the contents slowly onto a mat. This was done in the open
where there was a strong breeze. The purpose was to separate good paddy
from the bad. The bad paddy were the ones without any rice inside them.
They are called ‘hampa’. They would be very light and easily blown by the
wind; this process which is called ‘menumbuk’ is done by using an instrument
called lesong and ‘antan’ – all made of wood. They are like over-sized mortar
and pestle. As had been mentioned earlier, up to four people can pound the
paddy in a rhythmic pattern using an ‘antan’ each and only one ‘lesong’.
After a few minutes of pounding, the husks begin to separate from
the rice. Then the pounded paddy is put in the bamboo tray called ‘nyiru’.
The nyiru is then moved up and down with deft hands (normally women’s)
and the movement would let the husk fly out of the tray leaving the rice,
100 | AHMAD HASSAN

which is heavier, behind. This action is called ‘menampi’. The rice obtained
in this manner is unpolished rice and very rich in food value. Even the taste
is sweet. The local people refer to it as ‘beras baru’ – new rice.
I was told then the harvesting must be done simultaneously by all the
farmers and the local ‘pawang’, a man full of knowledge about the powers of
the unknown who would decide on the day to begin. The pawang would also
decide the day of planting.
The harvesting of paddy is called ‘menuai padi’. In some places in the
country, the harvesting is done by cutting the whole paddy plant with sickles
or the Malays called ‘sabit’. Then the paddy seeds are removed from the
plants by threshing them into a huge bin. But in Endau, where we were,
they do not use sickles but an instrument called ‘tuai’ which is held between
the fingers of one hand. Each paddy stalk is cut individually and the process
is much slower than using the sickle. However, the Endau paddy farmers
prefer to use the tuai over the sabit because they believe that the paddy must
be handled gently, lest the spirit (semangat) of paddy will desert them.
The truth is, by handling the paddy gently through cutting with a tuai,
the paddy seeds do not drop easily off the stalks unlike using the sickle,
where many paddy seeds are lost through rough handling. The threshing of
the paddy plants, too, is considered disagreeable by the Endau farmers.
They consider it disrespectful to the ‘semangat padi’. Paddy farming among
the Malays is full of beliefs in spirits and the power of the unknown. If in a
certain year the harvest is bad, they believe that the ‘semangat padi’ has
deserted them, through the faults of the farmers themselves.

16 April 1995
GRINDING COFFEE POWDER
During dinner two nights ago, Man told me about the new coffee shop at
the Life Centre in the city. He said that the shop sold about 40 types of
coffee from all over the world. The customers can choose their preference
and the price will depend on the type of coffee you ask for. He said that the
coffee powder was prepared there. That reminded me of the time we always
prepared our own coffee powder. We never bought ready-made powder.
Raw coffee beans were bought from the shop and roasted in a wok.
The raw coffee beans were greenish in colour and after being roasted
became brownish. Sometimes sugar would be added to the beans and this
would make the beans rather sticky and cling to each other. When the beans
were sufficiently roasted, they would be grounded into powder by using the
coffee-grinder which we called ‘kisar kopi’. First, the grinder would be
attached to the edge of the table by screwing it to the table like a vice. Then
the roasted beans were put in the funnel and someone would turn the
handle grinding the coffee beans. The powder which came out through the
outlet was collected in a bowl under the grinder. The sweet-smelling brown
coffee powder was then ready to use.
102 | AHMAD HASSAN

17 April 1995
I never really knew my father. I wasn’t really close to him. When I was small,
I was close to Ayah Awang who used to take me everywhere whenever he
was ashore. As I narrated earlier, he spent a lot of his time at sea in his
motorboat collecting fish from the ‘kelong’.
One of his favourite past-times whenever he was ashore, was to sit
in the coffee shop, chatting, or in his case listening, as he was not much of
a talker, to others in the shop. He used to bring me along to the coffee shop
and would order coffee or tea for each of us. There I was, sitting at the same
table with other adults listening to all sorts of stories told by these people
while sipping hot coffee or tea.
When these people talked, they seemed unaware of a child present
among them. They simply talked about anything they liked about their
work, which was mostly about the sea and fishing, and their escapades with
women. Young as I was then, I began to understand what they were talking
about, even when they talked about women and what they did to them! That
must be the closest I came to my earliest sex education. Besides that, I learnt
a lot about boats and fishing. Somehow I didn’t, and still don’t, know much
about fish.

18 April 1995
THE FISHERMAN
A typical Mersing fisherman of my boyhood would be a man from

Terengganu or a descendent of people from Terengganu. His complexion
would be dark due to long hours of exposure to the hot sun in the middle
of the sea. His young face would be wrinkled and he looked harsh, his hands
rough and his feet, which were always bare, had soles that were hard as
leather.
His attire consisted of a sarong which he wore loosely around his waist
and with or without a shirt which could be just a singlet. He had another
piece of cloth hung on one shoulder. This cloth was very useful to him as
it could be used for many purposes. On a hot day, it could be used to shield
off the sun. On a cold day, it could keep him warm, at night - a blanket,
after a bath - a towel, and could also be used to carry his purchases from
the shop.
He would most probably be illiterate as he did not go to or never
finished school. He started his vocation early and knew everything about
the sea and fishing. His life revolved around fishing and kept on at this job
until he could work no more due to old age or sickness. When not going to
sea, he would spend his time chatting with his colleagues, most probably at
coffee shops. His favourite games would be sepak raga and draughts played
on board drawn on the floor.
104 | AHMAD HASSAN

19 April 1995
THE HOUSES IN TANJONG
In Mersing, even today, the fishermen live in a village by the beach. The
village, known as Tanjong consists of wooden houses on stilts with attap or
zinc roof. When I was small, during the early part of the Japanese
occupation, I used to live here. The houses were built close to one another
without proper planning. There was no proper drainage and excess water
would just sink into the sand and remain on top in a puddle emitting a smell
intolerable to visitors who arrive for the first time.
As houses were built on stilts, under every house in the kitchen area,
you would find a stinking puddle of water which the locals called ‘air char’.
This was water from the washing and cleaning done in the kitchen. The
water would stay for some time and then sink into the ground. I sometimes
wonder if the smelly water would sink into the ground and go into the well,
which was normally located not far from the houses.
A well was normally shared by several houses, but each house had its
own latrine which was located outside the house not far from it. As the
ground was sand, water would sink into it very fast. My memory of the
village is that of the unpleasant smell that I had to tolerate daily.

20 April 1995
I still remember there were several types of fishing done by the fishermen.
The fishing done in the open sea off Mersing around the many islands were
either done by individuals in small boats, which they called ‘kolek’, or in
groups. The kolek could vary in size and were either meant for a single
person or as many as four. The single fisherman didn’t go very far and he
normally stayed quite close to land or islands. He would use hook and line
and sometimes small net (white in colour) called jaring. The bigger boat
would, of course, go further and use bigger nets.
Of all the types of boats used, I was fascinated by the ‘payang’. It
was a much bigger boat, and longer. It could take about ten fishermen and
had a unique shape with the bow and stern looking very much alike, except
that the stern had a kind of platform where the rudder-man or ‘jurumudi’
would stand to steer the boat, using a long oar. The crew of the payang
consisted of the ‘jeragan’, the head of the crew; the ‘juruselam’ (diver), the
‘jurutimba’, who has the toughest job of all, as he would be the last to leave
to see that boat would be cleaned after everyone had gone home. His job
was also to go to everybody’s house to wake them up in the early hours of
the morning. The rest of the crew were the ‘awak-awak’.
106 | AHMAD HASSAN

21 April 1995
I said that the jurutimba had the toughest job of all. His job started with going
to the houses of the crew at about 4:00 am to wake them up. Then during
the fishing, he did the same work as the others; casting and hauling the net.
When there was no wind, the boat had to be rowed and he would take his
place among the rowers. When the boat returned to shore and after the fish
had been delivered to the ‘towkay’, the boat had to be cleaned and ready for
the next trip. It was the jurutimba who would do the job while all the others
returned home. However, for all his hard work, he was compensated by
receiving a bigger share of the catch.
The payang fishermen received their payment once a week, normally
on Thursday night (malam Jumaat). They would go to the owner’s house (my
great-grandfather used to be one of them). They sat around the room and
the owner would announce the amount collected that week. Then the
sharing began. First, the jeragan (captain of the boat) received his share –
which was the biggest – followed by the juruselam. Next came the jurutimba
and the rest of the crew – the awak-awak received an equal amount each.
After the sharing, they had some refreshments of coffee and cakes. A few
times, I had the chance to watch this when I was small.

22 April 1995
Of all the members of the payang crew, the most colourful one would be the
juruselam. No payang would go out to sea without a juruselam. He was no
ordinary man. He had a strange power and ability. When out in the sea, he
would be the one to decide where to fish. He would lower himself into the
water beside the boat and listen carefully to the sound of the fish. He would
then know exactly where the fish were and would direct the jeragan to go to
the place. Then the rowers would row the boat to the spot.
Arriving there, they would cast the net over the area in the sea where
the fish is supposed to be. The big net would cover a large area. The net
then would be slowly pulled into the boat. You would see fish sticking to
the net and being taken out and put in the hold of the boat. Some fish would
try to jump out of the net. If the jumping fish were caught in mid-air by the
fisherman, the fish belonged to him and he could do anything with it.
This ‘caught’ fish was called ‘ikan tangkap’ and they could be sold by
the catcher and he could keep the money. When there was a big catch by
the payang – capacity catches – the locals referred to it as ‘muat luan’, the
payang would fly a flag, a piece of cloth at the end of a pole, in the bow at
the back.
108 | AHMAD HASSAN

23 April 1995
The return of the fishermen from the sea on fishing days (they fish 6 days
a week, except for Friday), as I can remember, was like a small festival.
Waiting on the beach were members of the families, fish buyers and
onlookers. At about 3 in the afternoon, they all went to the beach and
focussed their eyes on the sea. There, on the open sea, you could see the
sails of the boats coming in. The square sails, mostly white trimmed with
some other colours, could be seen clearly in the afternoon sun. Family
members could identify the boats of their husbands or fathers even from
far, as they could recognise the design of the sails. And then, when the
payang flew a flag in front of it, the people connected with the crew or the
owner of the payang would be very excited and words buzzed around saying
that so-and-so’s payang had a muat luan.
On the other hand, if they saw a payang, instead of flying a flag, there
is an inverted timba on a pole in front of the boat, which meant that they
had a bad catch and everyone concerned would be very sad. From the time
when sails were first visible until the boats finally reached the beach, the
people waited patiently and it took almost an hour of waiting. To while away
the time, adults would indulge in gossip and children just ran about in fun.
To me, it was quite an exciting moment.

24 April 1995
The fish caught in Mersing were mainly for export. The destination was
Singapore. When the fish were brought to shore in huge baskets, they were
brought to a place where they were crated in specially made wooden crates.
First, huge blocks of ice were crushed using huge wooden mallets by
two or three persons hammering away at the ice. The ice broke into pieces,
some of which would fly out of the box in which they were crushed and we
children would pick them up and gleefully sucked them like sucking ice
cream. The broken pieces of ice were put in the bottom of the crate on a
layer and the fish were arranged on top of this layer. Then another layer of
ice would be put on top of the fish. On top of this layer, another layer of
fish was arranged. This went on alternately until the crate was full. Then the
crate would be closed with planks that were nailed down to the crate.
Once all the crates were filled with ice and fish, they were put on
lorries to be transported to Singapore. The journey to Singapore started as
soon as the lorries were loaded. It would be in the evening when the lorries
left Mersing. They would arrive in Singapore slightly after midnight. Then
the fish would be ready to be sold in the market in the morning.
110 | AHMAD HASSAN

25 April 1995
The last time I went back to Mersing was during the 100th day ‘kenduri’
(feast) of my father’s demise, sometime last year. I have been back to my
beloved place of my birth several times since I left it. Every time I went
back there, I saw a few changes but the changes were slow. In fact, the
changes in Mersing Kanan, my kampong, were not fast enough that it looked
as if time just stood still there, especially in Tanjong, the village of the
fishermen.
During my last visit there, I noticed that the conditions in the
kampong were worse than the time when I was a boy. Then, it was cleaner
and the houses, though close to each other, were in better shape and not
too crammed. My aunty is still staying there. The house she is staying in
now is the same one built before I left for Johor Bahru to study in the
English school in 1947. The house looks rather gloomy now and the
compound is very unkempt.
As I have mentioned earlier, this kampong had no proper drainage, it
still hasn’t any proper drains to drain the excess water away. During the
rainy season, the kampong is full of patches of water here and there, making
it look very untidy. It still smells the same as I used to remember when I
was small – bad!
The Mersing town itself experienced some changes. Though the
roads and streets are more or less the same, there are some new shophouses
now. The main road that runs through the town is still the same, with
shophouses, some of which are from my childhood days, on both sides of
the road. As you enter the town from the main entry point into Mersing,
you would see a small roundabout with roads radiating in four directions,
one from where you come, another into the main part of the town, another,
slightly to the right, that takes you to the area where you find mostly

government buildings, and to the left is the road that takes you to the bridge
across the river and Mersing Kanan (my kampong) and on to Endau.
When I was a boy, I remember crossing the river from my kampong
to the town in a sampan. Before the war, the fare was one cent per adult and
free for children. The sampan was a long canoe-like boat with plank seats for
the passengers. The rower or paddler sat at the stern of the boat and using
a paddle, manoeuvred the boat expertly across the river. Although children
were free to ride, they have to wait for adult passengers first. Once there
was an adult passenger, the children could ‘tumpang’. The fare was just left
on the seat.
112 | AHMAD HASSAN

27 April 1995
CIKGU MAT SEPURAT
The town padang in Mersing town was the centre of all sporting activities,
especially football. I don’t really know which teams were playing in those
days but there sure were many football matches being played on the padang.
Whenever there was a football match, there was a big crowd watching it.
There were no seats but people just stood or sat on the ground around the
field. The crowd consisted mainly of the fishermen from the fishing village
of Tanjong. Oh, those people, they really loved football. They went there
not to support any particular team. They just enjoyed a good game.
I remember one of the most popular local players in those days was
a player nicknamed ‘Mat Sepurat’. He was a schoolteacher and was a very
good footballer. He was so popular that every time he played, there was a
capacity crowd. He was something like the local Pele! Why was he called
‘Mat Sepurat’? His name was Cikgu Mohammed and since he was active in
sports, instead of calling him Cikgu Mat Sport, they called him Mat Sepurat,
as that was how they thought ‘sport’ should be pronounced – sepurat!
Immediately after the war, many football matches were being played by the
British soldiers who were stationed there.

28 April 1995
THE BINTANG TIGA
Immediately after the war, just before the arrival of the Allied Forces, or the
British back in Malaya, there was a period of a few days when the ‘Bintang
Tiga’ who were the Communists, took the opportunity to take revenge on
the locals who were working for the Japanese during their occupation. The
Bintang Tiga was a group of Communist militants who went underground
to fight the Japanese under the pretext of liberating Malaya. So when the
Japanese left and before the arrival of the British, we went through a reign
of terror. All those who were considered Japanese informers and those who
were powerful Japanese officials were rounded up by the Bintang Tiga.
I remember there was this Chinese man who was a powerful
Japanese civilian officer, who was caught by the Bintang Tiga. I saw him
being practically dragged by the Bintang Tiga. They were passing in front
of our house (at that time I was staying in Endau). I was later told that he
was taken to the town padang and tied to a post. There, the charges against
him were read by the leader of the Bintang Tiga. When all the charges were
read, one of the Bintang Tiga hacked the man’s head with an axe! It was all
done in full view of passers-by and on-lookers.
114 | AHMAD HASSAN

29 April 1995
HOW THE D.O. MET HIS DEATH
There were many more gruesome stories that I heard about the brutality of
the Bintang Tiga. One of them was about how they killed the District
Officer (D.O.) of Mersing, a Syed-somebody, his name was. During the
Japanese time, he was the most powerful government officer in Mersing.
He rode in a big chauffeur-driven car and everyone feared him. As soon as
the Japanese left, a group of Bintang Tiga went to his house. It was Maghrib
time. He had just finished his prayer and was still in his sarong. The Bintang
Tiga dragged him out of his house and took him to a hill behind the town.
There, a hole was already dug. The D.O. was a fat man. They squeezed him
into the hole, hitting him on the head with rifle butts. The hole barely fit
him. Anyway, they buried him in that hole. Until today, I am wondering
whether he was still alive when he was buried. Well, that’s the story I heard
from people in Mersing at that time. It was the talk of the town then.
Talking about brutality, there was another case of brutality that I
knew of when I was staying in Endau, during our paddy farming days. One
day, the kampong folks were busy talking about a murder. It happened about
a mile or so from our house. Yaacob married an Orang Asli woman, he
used to beat this woman daily. I used to personally know about the beating
even before the war in Mersing.

30 April 1995
YAACOB’S MURDER
When they were staying in a house not very far from ours, Yaacob was a
violent man and his quarrels and beating of the aborigine wife was known
by everyone in the kampong. I remember seeing clothes and things being
thrown out of the house during the quarrel. Anyway, during one of these
quarrels, the wife decided to run back to the father’s house. The father must
have been very angry for he came to Yaacob’s house at dusk and hacked his
head with an axe. Yaacob was found dead the next morning. An axe was
left standing on a table. I saw this when I followed my mother to see the
place.
Everybody knew that it was Yaacob’s father-in-law who killed him.
The same morning, the father-in-law was arrested. At the police station, he
was questioned by the Japanese soldiers. He refused to talk. The Japanese
wanted him to admit that he killed Yaacob. One of the popular ways used
by the Japanese to make people talk was to make them drink (by force) soap
water. When the stomach was full of this soap water, he would be made to
lie down on the floor while the Japanese soldiers stand on his tummy. It
seemed that the water sprout out from all the openings in his body. In the
case of Yaacob’s father-in-law, the Japanese squeezed his testicles with two
pieces of wooden boards. The result – he admitted his guilt and was hanged.
116 | AHMAD HASSAN

1 May 1995
THE TIMBER THAT CRUSHED THE HOUSE
Another gruesome incident that I saw when I was staying at the paddy farm
in Endau, was an accident that involved a baby. There was this big storm
that almost razed the village. After the storm, several houses were almost
blown away and many trees were uprooted. Then we heard of the tragedy.
A baby was killed in the storm. It seemed that the baby was sleeping in a
‘buaian’, a cloth cradle, in the house. The parents were outside attending to
their work. Suddenly, a huge tree, which was across the road, toppled over,
crossing the road, and the top part of the tree fell on the house flattening it
to the ground. The baby, who was sleeping peacefully, was smashed by the
huge branches and was killed instantly.
When I went to the site to see what happened, they had just removed
the body of the baby which was mutilated. It seemed that the head was
smashed and the brain was scattered about. I was not allowed to see closely
but I remember standing by the fallen tree and the trunk which was laying
across the road, taller than me. I then went home with my mother, feeling
horrible, thinking of the tragic incident. Since then I always associate storms
with frightening scenes.

2 May 1995
ENDAU REVISITED
As I mentioned earlier, my last visit to Mersing was on the 100th day after
my father died. I went there with my wife, my son, Azhar and his two
children, Soraya and Ariff. For our return journey, we decided to go through
Endau, Rompin and near Pekan, cut through the new way to Kuala Pilah,
Seremban and KL. What interested me most was to see the places around
Endau where I used to spend a lot of my childhood days. Somehow, I
couldn’t see the familiar places as they have changed so much.
The road from Endau to Pekan was then under construction by the
Japanese. Before that, there wasn’t any road. I remember they used a lot of
local workers to build the road which ran right in front of our house. From
about two miles or so from Tanjong Gemok, the village on the Pahang side
of Endau, the paddy fields started. Ours was about the beginning of the
fields. Before that, there were some vegetable gardens operated by some
Chinese gardeners. The paddy fields ran on for about 10 miles on the right-
hand side of the road. Occasionally, there were some paddy fields on the
left side of the road. While driving through this memorable road I could
hardly identify the places I used to live and play as a child. Maybe now
travelling by car, things move so fast.
118 | AHMAD HASSAN

3 May 1995
CARRYING 4 COCONUTS FOR TWO MILES
As we travelled along this road, I thought of the time of how often I used
to walk on this road from my grandmother’s house at Tanjong Gemok to
my house about two miles away. Tanjong Gemok was the nearest village
where you could get all your supplies. I used to go down to this village to
shop or to go to my grandmother’s house. If I was lucky, I could get a ride
on the lorry that used to carry rocks or earth for making the road. One of
the drivers of the lorry was very friendly with us and used to give us lifts.
When I couldn’t get a lift in the lorry, I walked.
One evening, I was returning home from my grandma’s house and
as I couldn’t get a lift in the lorry, I decided to walk although I was carrying
with me four unhusked coconuts. I tied two coconuts at each end of a pole
and slung the pole on my shoulder. The coconuts were heavy and got
heavier as I walked further. I was only about nine then. Did I have shoes?
No. Imagine, a skinny nine-year-old walking for two miles with four full-
sized coconuts with no shoes on and all alone. I wasn’t afraid at first but as
it got darker, I began to feel frightened. Anyway, I arrived home safely.
What did my family think of what I did? I don’t know. They didn’t seem
worried. Perhaps it was expected of boys those days to do what I did.

4 May 1995
OPIUM FOR STOMACH-ACHE
There was a period of time during the Japanese occupation – I can’t

remember exactly when – when I spent some time in Singapore staying with
Mak Som, my adoptive mother. Mak Som’s husband, Pak Ali, was working
as a chauffeur to a Japanese officer. Mak Som, Pak Ali, Abang Nin (Ithnin,
Pak Ali’s son from the previous marriage) and Timah (Fatimah, their
adopted daughter) were staying in a rented house near Bukit Timah. It was
a simple wooden house with a zinc roof. The neighbours were mostly
Indians. Around the houses were some vegetable gardens belonging to the
Indians. I remember Abang Nin used to ‘curi’ some vegetables at night and
the next morning, the Indians were making a lot of noise saying that some
people were stealing their vegetables. We just pretended not to know
anything about it.
It was while staying here that I suffered from frequent stomachaches.
The pain was unbearable sometimes and the only medicine I was given was
to rub my tummy with some oil. One day, Mak Som gave me some black
stuff, like tar, and asked me to take it with water. I took it. It was about the
size of a pea. I swallowed it with warm water. I can’t remember how it tasted
but I was soon asleep. I later discovered that what I had swallowed was raw
opium! No wonder I was sleeping so soundly.
120 | AHMAD HASSAN

5 May 1995
LIVING IN SINGAPORE
Food was difficult at that time. We used to eat tapioca mostly and rice
whenever we could get it. I think once a week, we used to line up at the
Japanese food supply place where we were given some foodstuff and some
soap. For food, we were given some hard-as-rock cornbread, a bottle of
palm oil and sometimes noodles mixed in palm oil. To get our supply, we
had to bring with us a bucket (small) of ash which we got from our kitchen.
It seemed that the ash was used to make soap. Abang Nin and I would go
to this place and together with other people would stand in line to get our
supply. This place was somewhere near Stevens Road.
Stevens Road, Holland Road and areas around Bukit Timah were our
playgrounds. Everyday Abang Nin and I would wander around these places
pushing our metal hoops just for the fun of it. The metal hoops which were
about 18 inches in diameter and about 1.5 inches wide were pushed with a
stick with a kind of hook at the end of it. It took some skills to control this
contraption and once you got the hang of it, it was easy and great fun.
Another thing I remember doing while staying here was to make ‘jerok
maman’. We used to collect wild maman plants around our house, near the
big drain and prepared the jerok maman.

6 May 1995
HOW JEROK MAMAN IS MADE
This was how we prepared the jerok maman. First, we cleaned the fresh
maman by removing the roots, unwanted stalks and old leaves. After washing
the maman, we put them in an earthen jar. Then, we poured boiling water
on the maman. The amount of water used was just enough to cover the
maman. Some salt was added to it. Then, the most important part – rice. In
lieu of rice, as it was quite scarce, we used tapioca powder (tepong ubi). The
purpose of putting rice (cooked) or tapioca powder in the ‘jerok maman’ was
to make it turn sour. Then, the jar was tightly closed and stored in a dark
place. Don’t ask me why in a dark place. Nobody explained it to me.
Anyway, after a few days, the jerok was ready for eating.
Jerok maman, until today, is still a very popular Malay dish, especially
on the East Coast. To me, it is still my favourite. Those who have never
tasted jerok maman (J.M.) may not know the pleasure of its taste. Oh yes,
J.M. must be taken with rice or any other main dish. It is never taken alone.
Today, if I am lucky, I may be able to get J.M. from the night market. My
wife would sure buy it if she sees it at the market. When I was small, I used
to see an old lady selling. J.M. in bowls, from house to house. That’s how I
was introduced to Jerok Maman!
122 | AHMAD HASSAN

7 May 1995
COCONUT OIL LAMP
I’m writing this by candlelight as there’s no electricity. The power had been
on and off since yesterday evening. This reminds me of the time when I
was living in Mersing and Endau during the Japanese occupation. Before
the war, though, we didn’t have electricity in Mersing, we used kerosene
lamps. They were quite bright. During the Japanese time, kerosene was not
available so we used coconut oil to light our lamps. The simplest lamp was
that of a wick (either made of cloth or a gunny sack string) put in a saucerful
of coconut oil. The wick which was almost immersed in the oil, had one
end protruding from the side of the saucer. That end was lit and the light
was bright enough to light a small room. If you need more light, then you
put more than one wick in the saucer. Matches, too, were difficult to get.
To make a fire, they used ‘gobek api’, a kind of instrument for making a spark
to get fire.

8 May 1995
GOBEK API
The gobek api was normally made from buffalo horn. There were two parts,
one the body and the other the plunger. The body, is about 4 to 5 inches
long, about ¼ inch in diameter and about 2 inches deep. The plunger, about
4 inches long fit in exactly into the hole. At one end of the plunger was the
handle, round like the handle of a drawer. At the other end, was a hole to
hold the fibre which caught the spark and burnt. At this end too, a thread
was wound tightly and a coat of wax covered the thread. The idea was to
make it slide in and out of the hole in the body easily.
To light a fire, firstly, a fibre, which was obtained from a palm tree
and looked like cotton wool, was put in the hole (just at the entrance of the
hole) of the body. Then, holding the body in one hand (a right-hander
would hold it with the left hand), the person would punch the handle of the
plunger with the other hand and immediately pull it out again. In the hand
of an expert, he would see a spark burning the fibre at the end of the
plunger. The spark would then be slowly fanned into a fire by putting the
burning fibre into coconut husk or dry leaves. It wasn’t easy to light a fire
with the gobek api. You must be strong and fast. I tried a few times and
seldom got a spark. Though it looked like a toy, it wasn’t a toy. Only adults,
and men at that, would be strong enough to light a fire using the gobek api.
124 | AHMAD HASSAN

9 May 1995
SMOKING THE MOSQUITOES OUT
In the kampong, because of the difficulty of lighting a fire, normally the

kampong folks kept the fire burning all the time by burning logs of wood or
huge tree trunk somewhere close by. Whenever fire was needed, they just
went to the burning log and got some. The fire also drove the mosquitoes
away. The smoke from the fire which in some cases was burning under the
house, drove away all insects, especially mosquitoes. When there was no fire
burning under the house, coconut husk was burned. This would result in
the emission of a lot of smoke which not only drove the mosquitoes away
but caused your eyes to water if the smoke got into your eyes.
Another way of getting rid of the mosquitoes was by killing them
quickly. This was done by smearing coconut oil on a plate and waving it
around. Soon, you would see plenty of mosquitoes sticking to the oiled
surface of the plate. This was normally done at dusk when the mosquitoes
would come out in their hundreds or thousands. Somehow, they don’t come
out in bright light. If you walk in the rubber estate or jungle, where sunlight
is shielded, you’ll find a horde of mosquitoes whizzing around your head.
You can see this over somebody else’s head.

10 May 1995
WHY I DIDN’T LIKE DOING MANUAL WORK
Because I’ve done so much manual work and went through so much
hardship when I was small, now I feel that I don’t want to do any of those
things again. I don’t like to walk very far now if I can help it because I’ve
done enough walking when I was small to last me a lifetime. I don’t like to
do any digging, as in gardening, because I suffered so much doing that
hateful job when I was small. I don’t enjoy doing the dishes because it
reminds me of the humiliating time I had staying with Pak Ngah Wahid
when I had to do the dishes after each meal.
Somehow I don’t mind washing my underwear and ironing a shirt or
two now. I used to do my washing and ironing when I was in school in JB.
In fact, I was very particular about my clothes. They were always clean and
smart and I can say that in school, I was considered as a well-dressed fellow
– so said my friends and my teachers. Another thing that I used to do and
can still do is sewing – tears and buttons. For this, I owe it to my great-
grandmother who used to teach me to thread the needle and do some
simple sewing.
126 | AHMAD HASSAN

11 May 1995
THE SEA SCOUT
The Sea Scout Troop that I was a member of when I was in Form Four,
was founded by Mr. Taib (Wak Yeb). He and a few of his students formed
the 5th Johor Bahru Troop. It was the first sea scout troop in Johor. The
troop was an open troop, meaning that it was not attached to any particular
school. The members could come from any school but somehow almost all
the members came from English College and were formerly Wak Yeb’s
former students when they were in Bukit Zahrah School. Wak Yeb was still
teaching at Bukit Zahrah School when he founded the Sea Scout Troop.
Among the first group of scouts were Salleh Ali, who by then had left school
and was the Assistant Scout Master, Dollah Ismail - the Troop Leader,
Hassan Omar, Othman Dahwan, Ahmad Dahwan, Ibrahim Taib, Karim
Zahri, Salleh Mohamed (Engeh) and a few others. I joined them a few
months later.
The scout den (HQ) was in Bukit Zahrah School. We met once a
week when we had our formal inspection and activities. But we spent a lot
of time at the den, almost every evening. The troop was divided into four
patrols, namely, Cook, Drake, Grenfell and Raleigh – all famous English
seafarers. I belonged to Drake Patrol and Hassan Omar was the Patrol
Leader. When he left, I took over as the Patrol Leader. I heard that Hassan
passed away several years ago. May God bless his soul.

12 May 1995
TRAINING AT THE NAVAL BASE
I enjoyed being a sea scout. As our troop was the first and the only sea scout
troop in Johor, we attracted a lot of attention, especially with our uniform,
which was very much different from the land scout (Boys Scout). Our
uniform consisted of a white shirt, blue shorts, blue stockings, black shoes,
a white navy hat (British Navy), a blue scarf and maroon epaulets on the
shoulders. Because our shirt was white, all the badges that we wore were so
very striking. We often took part in marches whenever there was an
occasion when all the uniform bodies were required to march, e.g. on
Sultan’s birthday and so on.
We were also very good at marching as we were trained by a naval
officer from Woodlands Naval Base. We also went to the Naval Base to
have our sea training. For several weekends, we attended a special course as
a sailor. Our instructors were British Naval officers just like the real sailors.
We were taught to row, sail, scrub the deck, signalling (semaphore and
Morse Code), identify various types of boats and ships and best of all,
shooting! We used real rifles with real bullets. At the end of the training, we
were awarded the Seaman’s Badge, which we wore on the left of our shirt
sleeve proudly.
Our scout den was in a room below the school hall. It was slightly
below ground level. Each patrol was given a corner. This room was used as
a store before it was turned into our scout den. In fact, there were still a lot
of things – furniture and stuff like that – being stored there. I used to spend
a lot of time in the den. Wak Yeb brought his old radio there and we fixed
it up and we could listen to music while we work in the den.
128 | AHMAD HASSAN

We had our scout meeting once a week (was it on Saturday?). On
that day, we put on our full uniform. At a signal (a whistle), we quickly lined
up smartly according to our patrols, in front of the flagpole. One of us
would take turns to raise the flag. The flag raises would stand by the pole
holding the string waiting for the order to raise the flag. We were all standing
at ease. Then the Troop Leader gave the order “Attention!”. We all clicked
our heels smartly to attention and at that very moment, the Scout Master
(Wak Yeb) walked in. The Troop Leader received him with a salute. The
Scout Master then took his place in front of the troop. A signal was given
and we all sang the state anthem while the flag was slowly raised. Then the
inspection began. The Scout Master accompanied by the Troop Leader
inspected the troop, patrol by patrol. After the inspection, we carried out
our various activities. We also played games (scout games).

14 May 1995
GUARD OF HONOR TO LORD ROWALLAN
Among the activities carried out during our weekly scout meeting was
working on our various scout proficiency badges. After our tenderfoot
badge which every one of us must have, we worked for our second-class
badge and then the first class. I got my first-class badge before I could sew
my second-class badge on my sleeve. After that, I worked for other badges,
by the time I got my Queen Scout badge (the ultimate badge that every boy
scout worked for), I had so many badges sewn onto both my shirt sleeves.
For my Queen Scout, I didn’t get the certificate as I was then above 18 years
old. However, I was allowed to wear the badge.
I remember a group of us was chosen to form the guard of honour
to Lord Rowallan’s (the Chief Scout) visit to KL. Scout reps from various
states of Malaya were assembled in KL for the occasion. We all camped at
Castle Camp near the police depot in KL. That was my first visit to KL. We
went there on the train, travelling in the third class – also my first trip on
the train. It was great fun, both the train ride and the camp at Castle Camp.
On the day when all the chosen scouts formed the guard of honour to the
Chief Scout, we all stood proudly and till today, I can never forget how
fortunate I was to shake the hand of the Chief Scout of the world who came
all the way from England. The occasion was filmed by the Malayan Film
Unit. The year was 1954.
130 | AHMAD HASSAN

15 May 1995
SCOUT GAMES
At the weekly meeting, besides working on our badges, we also played

games. Most of the games were those that require thinking and skills. We
competed among the patrols. I remember one game where we had to boil
some water. We were given only two match sticks to light a fire. If you can’t
make a fire with the two match sticks, then you won’t be able to boil the
water. All this was done in the open air where the breeze could be quite
strong. Using a lot of paper and twigs, I was able to light the fire with just
one matchstick.
Then, we were supposed to cross an imaginary river full of
crocodiles. The river wasn’t deep. It was only about two feet deep and about
ten feet wide. The width was indicated by two lines on the ground. We were
given a pair of stilts that we could use to walk with. With the stilts, you
could walk across the ‘river’ without trucking the water. This was where you
needed the skill of using the stilts. Each stilt was about 6 feet long, with the
place where you put your foot about 2½ feet above the ground. The trick
was, when you had both your feet on the steps of the stilts, you pull them
upward and close to your body. You walked forward balancing yourself on
the stilts remembering not to loosen your grips on the stilts. Once you got
the hang of it, it was easy.
Another interesting activity that we had to do was learning how to
row a boat. This we did at the Naval Base in Woodlands under the
instructions of the naval officers. One of the things that I can still remember
today is about the two different types of boats that we had to operate, one
was the ‘cutter’ and the other, the ‘whaler’. The whaler is bigger than the
cutter. I can’t remember how many people were needed to row a whaler but

if I’m not mistaken, there were quite a number of us rowing it together. The
oars were long and quite heavy. The coxswain, the man in charge of steering
the boat and giving orders to the rowers, gave us orders – I forget most of
the terms used.
Anyway, I still remember something like “Hold water port”, “Give
way starboard” which means rowers on the left have to stop rowing but
hold the oars still in the water while those on the right keep rowing making
the boat turn to the left. The cutter, which is smaller, is a one-masted boat.
I remember a few of us tried to sail one all by ourselves. I think there were
five of us in the boat. At first, we were doing fine. Suddenly there was a
squall and our sail could not be controlled. The boat was drifting in the
choppy water. Somehow we managed to steer the boat to a ‘kelong’ and tying
it there, waited until the storm blew over.
The part that I enjoyed most during the training at the Naval Base
was target shooting. At first, we were given the air rifle to shoot at the Naval
Base firing range. The instructor was a petty officer who was a white man.
He started instructing us on the do’s and don’ts when handling firearms.
In spite of that, there was almost an accident during one of the target
practises. We all were lying down on our tummy facing the target which was
about 50 yards away. Each of us held a rifle each and after loading in with
a bullet, waited for the order to fire. Only three or four of us were shooting
at the targets at a time while the others waited for their turn. The instructor
was standing behind us and the others were a little bit further behind. When
the order to fire was given, the three chaps pulled the trigger. One of the
chaps’ gun didn’t fire. He ejected the bullet and threw it on the ground. The
chap next to him took it and loaded it into his gun. In the meantime, the
instructor walked to the targets to inspect them. While he was there, the
chap who loaded his gun with the thrown bullet and thinking that it was a
dud, fired his gun. To everybody’s shock, the gun fired and almost hit the
instructor! The instructor jumped and rushed to the chap who almost shot
him. He and all of us were reprimanded and practise was called off
immediately. There was no more practise after that.
One day, after our training at the Naval Base was completed and all
of us were declared qualified seamen, we were taken on a boat ride on the
ML (motor launch). It was quite a big boat and well-equipped with some
up-to-date weaponry. It was skippered by a lieutenant, a Mat Salleh, from
the jetty at the Naval Base, the boat took us towards the open sea. After
132 | AHMAD HASSAN

riding around at various speeds, the boat suddenly stopped in the middle of
the sea (it was the wider part of the Straits of Johor). The boat dropped
anchor and we were ordered to jump into the sea for a swim. One of us
said to the officer in charge that there might be sharks around and we were
told not to worry as they had this gun that could kill sharks. Anyway, some
of us decided to take a swim. I was one of them. We stripped of our
underwear and jumped into the sea. Only after we had jumped into the sea
that we realized there was quite a strong current pulling us. We swam
around a bit and returned to the boat. Before we went swimming, we were
asked to shoot a target with a real rifle (503). The target was a small oil drum
dropped about 100 yards away. Each one of us tried our best to shoot the
bobbing target. I think nobody got the target.
Another unforgettable moment of my sea-scouting days was the
camping that we had at a place we called Temenggong Valley in Tarom, JB.
I was then the Patrol Leader of Drake Patrol. Each patrol was given a place
to pitch our tent. I chose a raised piece of ground while the other three
patrols pitched their tents on the lower ground next to the big drain where
we got our water supply. There was some competition between the patrols.
One of the things we were given marks for was the construction of some
useful gadgets for our camp. My patrol built a table with benches around it.
The table and benches were made from wooden poles that we collected
from the nearby bushes. We also built a rack to store our crockery and pots
and pans. Our day began with an early rise, quick wash, cooked breakfast,
and ready for inspection. The inspection covered not only our appearance
but also our tents and the kitchen area. Our pots and pans must be shiningly
clean. Then, we had our various activities for the day e.g. games and work.
At night, we always had a campfire and night games. We also took turns to
be on guard duty. Two persons would be on duty for about 4 hours starting
at 10 pm. Nobody liked the second shift duty, starting at 2 am.
When I was working for my First Class Badge, I had to hike for ten
miles and camp overnight. I went with another scout, Dollah Yusof. We
brought with us a hike tent that could sleep two, and our cooking utensils.
After walking five miles, we stopped and pitched our tent in a school
compound. The school was called Sekolah Melayu Pengkalan Rinting,
where later, my brother used to teach. That evening, we cooked our dinner
next to our tent. While we were preparing our dinner, we were curiously
observed by a few children who lived nearby the school. They were

wondering what we were doing. Dinner over, we cleaned our utensils,
plates, cups and so on, and were ready to retire for the night. Before that,
we had our logbook to write. I didn’t just write, I drew maps and sketches
or interesting things that I saw during the hike. Soon, we felt very tired and
dozed off. In the middle of the night, it rained quite heavily and water
started leaking into our tent. We had no alternative but moved into the
school building. We continued our sleep on the desks in the school. The
next morning, we got up very early. We bathed at the school bathroom and
after breakfast, we continued our walk back to our HQ via a different route.
On the way, I made one of my best pieces of drawing. I saw this
unique house standing by the roadside and I was so fascinated by it that I
decided to draw it. So we stopped by the roadside and quickly sketched the
house. When I reached home, I improved it and the result was a nice picture
which was appreciated by all my friends. How I wish I still have the picture.
The picture with all my other valuable photographs and books was
destroyed by white ants when I left them in boxes stored under my bed
while I was away studying in England. Now, I don’t have a single photo of
me as a sea scout. I must try to find out from my friends who were with me
in the sea scout troop if they happen to have some of our photos. I want to
make copies of them. As I mentioned earlier, we were always busy working
for our badges.
One of the badges we worked for was the ‘Venturer’s Badge’. For
the badge, we had to cross the jungle around the lake area called ‘Hutan
Kolam Air’. Now the hutan is no more there. In its place is the golf course.
Even the lake has dried up. Well, the jungle then was very thick. There were
three of us: Dollah Yusof, Ramachandran, who later became one of the top
naval officers in our Navy, and me. We got lost. Rama was very worried but
Dollah, forever a practical joker, and I laughed it off and played jokes on
poor Rama. After some time, we managed to come out safely.
134 | AHMAD HASSAN

22 May 1995
SINGING AT THE ARMY CAMP
The early 50s were times when talentimes were often held by the youths of
JB. It was a way of raising funds for their organisations. Clubs, associations
and such bodies organised talentimes and many budding singers came
forward to take part in them to vie for prizes which were nothing compared
to what they offered today. In those days, the prizes were just trophies. All
the same, many took part. Our scout troop took part for the first time in
the talentime organised by another scout troop. Our group consisted of
Ahmad Dahwan, Hassan Omar, Rahman Juri, Othman and me. The five of
us played some musical instruments and sang. I didn’t play any instrument
at first as I didn’t know how. In subsequent performances, I was able to
play either the harmonica or the bongo drums, but most of the time, I sang.
Well, in our first outing, we came out as champions beating other groups.
After that, we never looked back and became a fearsome group.
As for me, from singing in a group, I became more confident and
started singing solo. I took part in many stage shows, and later was a
member of a band that often played at charity shows in JB. I sang, of course.
Then, one day, I accompanied a friend, Wan Mariamah to Singapore, where
she was singing in a band. The band was rehearsing for a show to be staged
in an army camp. One of the singers was Saloma, who was then known by
her real name – Salmah Ismail. Another well-known singer in the band was
S. Hamid. There were also a few others. I used to go to their practises a few
times. I just watched and admired these established singers, wishing that I
could be like one of them. On the night of the show, the band boys travelled
by lorry together with all the instruments. I was on that lorry too. The

singers, especially the ladies travelled by car. The occasion was a dinner for
some senior army officers (British).
The band, which was called Al-Nujam, led by a guy called Omar
Bakshir, who was a very good violinist, entertained the officers with song
and music. Among the artistes who were there was Saadiah. She was then
still very young but was already a famous child star. That was the first time
I met and came to know her in person. Towards the end of the show, I got
my first chance to sing with the band. It was Saadiah who asked me to sing
and I sang “Sway”, a song made popular at that time by Dean Martin. They
must have liked it and asked me to sing more. Then I sang “Pretend”, a Nat
King Cole song, followed by “Walking My Baby Back Home” also a Nat
King Cole song.
Omar Bakshir was obviously impressed by my singing. He asked
me if I would join the band as a regular singer. I told him I had to think
about it. Of course, I was very excited. The other members of the band and
singers too thought I could sing quite well. But for me, at that time, what
mattered most was the fact that Saadiah liked my singing. I joined the band
in their outing a few times more and then I stopped going to Singapore. I
suddenly realised that I was facing the most important examination in my
life – the Cambridge School Certificate (CSC). Much as I liked mixing with
those people in Singapore, my CSC exam must come first. This, however,
didn’t stop me from singing. I joined a group in JB, a band, I don’t
remember what it was called, most probably it didn’t have any name, and
sang with it whenever they put up a show around JB.
In the band, there was this little girl who could dance the Indian
dance very well. She used to dance on the stage to the delight of the
audience who always gave her a thunderous clap. Her name was Pon. I later
found out that Pon is Salmah’s cousin. I met her recently at Salmah’s house
and when I mentioned her dancing, she just laughed. Most probably she
didn’t want it to be remembered.
136 | AHMAD HASSAN

25 May 1995
P. RAMLEE
I can never forget the time when I met P. Ramlee for the first time. There
was this talentime organised by, I can’t remember which organisation, but
I was taking part in it. P. Ramlee was a guest singer, together with a few
other artistes. Backstage, P. Ramlee was always surrounded by all those
taking part in the talentime, especially the girls. I had the opportunity to
chat with him. At first, I was rather nervous. Imagine talking with the
superstar of the time. Anyway, I only had a few minutes with him.
Then, the Sea Scout Troop decided to hold our own talentime. I
played a major part in it. It took us quite some time to prepare the show.
We also decided to call the big stars to attract people to come to our show.
So we invited P. Ramlee, Tompel, D. Harris and Mariani (Saloma’s sister).
The afternoon before the show, we were busy preparing the stage and I was
fooling around with the microphone and sang a P. Ramlee number, trying
to imitate him. While I was doing so, behind the curtain, P. Ramlee arrived
to check the stage for his number that night. When he heard me, he
remarked “Wah, mau lawan ya!”, and laughed. That evening, I had to go see
him with a message. He was staying at a friend’s place which was near my
cousin’s house. So when he saw me, he recognised me as the one who tried
to ‘lawan’ him. I passed him the message; I can’t remember what it was
exactly but had something to do with the talentime. I was quite nervous but
he made me feel at ease by asking me to sit down and talking to me about
singing and music. I asked him about his new song “Hamidah” and he said
he was going to sing that song that night, and he did it to the delight of the
audience. Behind the stage, in the changing room, I asked him to teach me
that song. He obliged me by asking me to copy down the lyrics and then

asked me to sing the song with him. Until this day “Hamidah” is a special
song for me.
P. Ramlee in person was very much like the one you see in films,
especially comedies. He was forever ‘alive’ and witty. I remember at that
time he was whistling “Day After Day”, a very popular song then by Dean
Martin. Soon “Merak Kayangan” came out. P. Ramlee wrote and sang it in
one of his films. Those who know these two songs will notice some
similarities between them. Later, whenever I sang “Merak Kayangan”, I
always include “Day After Day” as well. I often wonder whether P. Ramlee
thought of “Day After Day” by Dean Martin when he wrote “Merak
Kayangan”.
138 | AHMAD HASSAN

27 May 1995
Singing was a popular pastime among young people at that time. From the
west, singers such as Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Perry Como, Dean
Martin, Doris Day, Pattie Page and so on were people that they wanted to
emulate and copy. And singers like Bing Selamat, Samsaimon etc, from
Indonesia and P. Ramlee from Malaysia were the models for Malay songs.
Whenever there were talentimes, more often than not the participants
would sing their songs.
In our Sea Scout Troop, Hassan Omar and Ahmad Dahwan (both
deceased) were accomplished singers. Ahmad Dahwan sang a-la Bing
Selamat, though he had a deep and strong voice, not unlike Bing Selamat’s.
Hassan had a deep melodious voice. Both of them often took part in
talentimes and Hassan once came out champion in one of them with a song
“Kerana Janji”. Hassan, Ahmad and I formed a trio to compete in
talentimes and came out tops in a few of them. We also sang as guest
artistes.
Besides singing, Ahmad Dahwan could play the violin and the guitar.
Hassan was a good guitarist, harmonica player and drummer. I could play
the bongo drums and a bit of the harmonica. Hassan and Ahmad had been
singing earlier than I had. They were singing with different music bands. I
learnt a lot from them. In fact, they were the ones who encouraged me.

28 May 1995
OH THE MOON IS SHINING BRIGHT OVER MALAYA
My singing developed further when I went to the MTC Brinsford Lodge,

England. At the college, I was very active in the Malay students’ activities.
One of the activities was to put up cultural shows for the others, especially
the English guests. Whenever there was a show, I was sure to sing. One of
the first songs I sang was “Bahtera Laju” which was made popular by
Effendi, an Indonesian singer with a very powerful voice. Another song,
also an Indonesian song, which almost became my trademark in college was
“Lambaian Bunga” which started with “Nun jauh di sana….”.
My solo singing was not only confined to the college. When we
visited other colleges, I was always asked to sing a Malay song. For a Chinese
songs, Tan Ching Nam was the regular choice and for Tamil songs, N.
Nadarajah. So the three of us, each representing our racial group, were the
‘stars’. Others sang too, but they were not as ‘popular’ as we were. When
the juniors came, my wife-to-be was among them. They put up a concert to
entertain us – as part of the orientation programme – and I was invited to
sing. I sang “Aryati”, another Indonesian song and after that, they all said
that that was the song I wooed my wife with. Anyway, whenever I hear that
song now, I always think of that night, with the girl who was later to become
my wife, sitting in the audience, looking very shy.
While in college, I never stopped singing. I sang in various college
concerts and I sang in the college choir. In the choir, I sang bass together
with Camilo Gomez, one of the Tres Amigos of Melaka, who was in the
college for a special course (Trainers’ Course). Gomez had a beautiful
singing voice. In one of the college concerts, he sang “Oh, the moon is
shining bright over Malaya”. According to him, that song was written in
140 | AHMAD HASSAN

Changi Prison, Singapore, by one of the Tres Amigos, who was interned
there during the Japanese Occupation. It’s a beautiful song. I managed to
learn it from Gomez and often sang accompanied by playing the guitar
myself. I remember singing this song in a group when I was studying in the
MTC Kirkby, Liverpool in 1962 (my second trip to England). The group
consisted of Michael Ooi of Penang who played the guitar as well, Aziz
Wok, Alias Idris and me. I also played the guitar besides being the lead
singer. The occasion was a concert put up by the students as a farewell to
the college and the local community, for the college was to close down after
that. The main part of the concert was a play called “Laila Sari”, written and
directed by Aziz Wok, who later became a director at RTM. I composed
the theme music and Aziz wrote the lyrics and I sang the song.
My love for singing went as far back as when I was a boy. I remember
singing to my mother who liked to hear me sing. Before the war, my mother
used to collect records and I used to listen to them with her. Some of the
songs stuck to my memory and I could sing them without much difficulty.
One song which my mother said was written about her was “Zahrah” song
by Mohd Yatim, a popular singer at that time and whom my mother knew
during her regular visits to Singapore. My interest in singing developed
further during the time of the popularity of P. Ramlee’s films. I went to see
all the Malay films shown during the time before I went to England. After
seeing the films, I learnt to sing the songs sung in the films, especially those
by P. Ramlee. Later, when I was in Form Five, I began to be interested in
English songs, especially those sung by Nat King Cole and Dean Martin.
Through listening to them, I learnt quite a few and was able to sing them
quite well. That was why when I was with the Al-Nujum band, they asked
me to sing English songs mostly. When I was in college in England, I had
the opportunity to study music. It was here that my interest in western
classical music developed. I began to enjoy Chopin, Beethoven, etc. In one
college concert, I sang a song from Mozart’s “Magic Flute” solo.

31 May 1995
When I was posted to Kemaman on my return from Kirkby (1963), I had a

rather quiet life for the first two years. Then, I was appointed the
headmaster of Sekolah Menengah Kemaman (SMK) and life which was full
of social activities began. I can’t remember how many dances we had during
the three years of my headship at SMK but I’m sure we were just looking
for some excuses to hold a dance. There were, after the sports dance, end
of term dance, Hari Raya dance, Chinese New Year dance and farewell
dances which were quite many. The majority of the people who attended
these dances were the teachers from the three main schools there, namely
the Sultan Ismail Secondary School, the Sultan Ismail Primary School and,
of course, my school, the SMK. Others were the doctors and the nurses,
the police officers led by the OCPD and some officers from the District
Office led by the D.O. himself.
As for me, the best part of the dance was that I got the chance to
sing with the accompanying band. The song “Misty” became almost my
signature tune. Of course, I sang other songs too, such as “Strangers in the
Night”, “Mona Lisa” and some P. Ramlee numbers. I was not the only
singer. There were others, like Sham, Mazlan, Ahmad Idris, Yahaya,
Shamsuddin Dahlan and so on. We were really having fun those days.
142 | AHMAD HASSAN

1 June 1995
I didn’t do so well in my Cambridge and School Certificate exams. I only

got a grade three. I expected that kind of result as I didn’t really study for
the exam. Instead of studying during that crucial year (1954), I was more
involved in singing and my scouting activities. It was during that year that,
at one time, I used to go to Singapore almost every weekend, mixing around
with the singers and musicians. It was during that year too, just a few weeks
before the exam, I went to KL to take part in the guard of honour to Lord
Rowallan and camping for a week in Castle Camp. I did all these when I
should be studying instead.
Anyway, I scraped through the exam getting Distinction (A1) in Art
(my favourite subject), C3 in English Language, C3 in Malay, C4 in
Mathematics, P7 in English Literature (I didn’t read much of the Literature
books prescribed) and I failed in Geography and General Science. Had I
passed my Geography, I could’ve got at least a grade two. When the results
were announced, I regretted my action. Only then I realised that I should
have studied hard. Well, I was already working when the results came out.
I was then working as a field investigator under the charge of Professor
Ungku Aziz, who was then conducting an economic survey in some villages
in Malacca, for RIDA (Rural and Industrial Development Authority). RIDA
has now become MARA.

2 June 1995
I have just returned from the wedding reception of Faiz who married
Azizah, a girl from Johor Bahru. At the reception, I was the Master of
Ceremony (MC). This is another thing I like doing. Ever since I was in
school, I always enjoy doing the MC job – I remember my first MC job. It
was during one of the variety shows put up by the school and I was asked
to be the MC. Since it was my first time doing it, I was rather nervous at
first, but once I started, I was enjoying it. After that, I even volunteered to
do it. I got even better when I was in college. I was MC for our concert and
dances too.
After that, I became quite good at speaking in public, especially when
I became a headmaster. The strange thing is that the bigger the crowd, the
better I like it, and look and feel very confident. Because of this, I suppose,
since the early eighties, I was a popular choice as an MC whenever there
was a wedding of my friends’ children. Once I was the MC at the wedding
reception of Dato Aziz Ismail’s (deceased) daughter’s wedding which was
held at PJ Hilton. A few days later, I got a call from the hotel asking me if
I could be the MC for another wedding. When I asked whose wedding it
was, I was told that it was the child of a Datuk who was getting married,
and they wanted to know how much my charge was. I told them I charged
nothing but I do only for my friends.
144 | AHMAD HASSAN

3 June 1995
Today, I want to talk about my first job. The most popular thing for
students to do while waiting for the School Certificate results in those days,
was to teach in a private school called “Public School”. The school was a
popular place in JB for students to earn some money while waiting for
something better to do. Most of my friends went through this. In my case,
I got a job at the University of Malay Singapore, working under Professor
Ungku Aziz, who was then a lecturer in Economics and was conducting a
rural economic survey for RIDA. Ungku Aziz wanted a field investigator to
carry out the survey in the kampongs in Malacca. A friend, Rahman Hamidon,
who was then an undergraduate at the university told me about the job. He
must have told U. Aziz about me, for soon, I was asked to see U. Aziz for
an interview.
At the interview, I was asked by U. Aziz several things, mainly how
to get information from the villagers without harassing them. He must have
been pleased with my answers, for I got the job. I was to be paid a $200/-
a month allowance, which was at that time quite a sum. I was told that after
some practise, I was to go to Malacca to carry out the survey. For the
practise, I went to Kampong Lukut in Kota Tinggi – the kampong where my
brother started his teaching job. The headmaster of the school was pleased
to see me again and offered to put me up in his house for the two nights I
was there.
During my two-day stay there, I visited some houses to try out the
questionnaires that I was going to use in Malacca. There were more than
ten pages of questions that I had to ask, covering such areas as the members
of the household, the land and property that they had, their level of
education, etc. and it took me quite a while to complete a set of the

questionnaire. The practise gave me a very good idea about what I was
about to face in Malacca.
When I returned to Singapore (my HQ was the University of Malaya
in Singapore then), I was briefed further by Ungku Aziz about how to
collect the data needed. Then, before I left for Malacca, I was introduced to
Ahmad Zainal Abidin (Abang Bidin, deceased), a newly recruited RIDA
officer, who was to lead the survey. Ahmad Zainal had just graduated from
the university and this survey was his first assignment. We struck up a
friendship at once. For the next six months, we were together all the time
and I felt we were inseparable. Ahmad Zainal had a car, an Austin Somerset
which he just bought. We travelled about in this car both for our work and
pleasure. Ahmad Zainal’s parents lived in Linggi and on some weekends we
would spend time there. During the week, we stayed in a rented house in
Simpang Bekoh. On weekends, we would either be in Malacca town or JB
or KL or Muar or Linggi.
It was during this time that I came to know other members of
Ahmad Zainol’s family, especially his two brothers who were about my age,
Ahmad Kamaruddin (Topot) and Ahmad Khalid. They were also awaiting
the SC results as I did at that time. After I met them, and heard them calling
Ahmad Zainal ‘Abang Bidin’, I, too, called him that. Abang Bidin had two
girl friends at that time, one in Johor and one in Pahang. One day, the one
from Pahang, called Norzehan, came to Seremban to meet Abang Bidin.
With her was her sister, Salehatun. Topot and Khalid, too, came along. I
was introduced to Abang Eda, their cousin, a bachelor who worked in the
Information Department. That night, we all went to a dance hall and danced
the night away. In the course of our conversation, I found out that
Salehatun and I were somehow related. She told me that Cikgu Ghazali of
Mersing was her uncle, and Cikgu Ghazali, who was responsible for
arranging my going to English school in JB, was related to my father.
Anyway, I didn’t meet her after that until she went to Kirkby in 1956. She
and Khalid went to college together that year, a year after I went to
Brinsford.
146 | AHMAD HASSAN

6 June 1995
My job as a field investigator in the Mukim of Nyalas in Malacca with Abang

Bidin was quite an interesting episode of my life. As our job required us to
visit every house in the five-resettled villages, and there were about forty to
fifty houses in each village, we had to work very quickly to cover all the
houses. But as the survey covered so many areas and we had to check the
authenticity of the information given to us by looking at land titles (grants)
and other things, we spent an average of two hours per house. We were also
not supposed to make them stop work to give us an interview. To make it
easier for them, we even visited the houses in the evening. If we did that,
we normally could do only one house because we ended up chit-chatting
with them after that with makan as well. We really wanted to win them over
to us so that they could feel confident with us and trust us and give us
genuine information. One way was to be one of them. So we decided to live
with them. We rented a house – a very big one, the biggest in the village,
but was abandoned, and we occupied only the front part. For food, we
frequented a mamak shop whose owner we called Mydin although that was
not his real name. Every morning, we started our day at Mydin’s for
breakfast and ended it there with dinner.
The five villages, which were originally scattered about along the road
from Simpang Bekoh to Simpang Nyalas, were regrouped into five well-
organised settlements with roads and drains running through them. Then,
each village was fenced with bard-wire fence with the main road running in
the middle of the village. There were gates where the main road entered and
left the village. These two gates would be closed during curfew time which
was from six in the evening and six in the morning. No one was to go
outside the fence during curfew time. However, we were given special
passes as we were considered to be doing important government jobs.

Within the perimeter of the village, the people were free to move about.
The purpose of the curfew was to prevent the Malayan Communist bandits
from getting help from the villagers and also for the security forces to hunt
the bandits. Anyone found moving about outside of the fenced-up villages
during curfew time would be challenged and if unidentified shot. One night,
we heard the sound of bombs being exploded not very far from our house.
We were told the next morning that the British Army was bombing the
jungle where the Communists had ambushed and killed some British
soldiers.
The size of the fenced-up village varied from one village to another.
The one that we lived at was quite big. It was called Simpang Bekoh, near
the Johor border. In fact, the children of this village went to the Malay
school on the Johor side of the border as there was no school in Simpang
Bekoh. If I am not mistaken, the villagers referred to Johor as Negeri Raja
Melayu, as opposed to Melaka which was then a Straits Settlement ruled by
the British. Before Simpang Bekoh was fenced-up, the villagers lived in
houses quite far apart among the paddy fields and rubber trees. Then, the
land around the ‘town’ part of the village was repossessed by the
government, subdivided into house lots and given each to the villagers to
build houses and moved there, leaving their kebuns outside the fences.
During the day, they went to work in their respective kebuns, either to plant
paddy or to tap rubber. They returned to the village before the gates were
closed at 6:00 pm.
As Simpang Bekoh was an old village, many of the houses were old
or original houses. I think two of the villages were new i.e. they were built
on lands specially cleared for the villages. One of them was Kampong
Abbey. So all the houses in these two villages were new and looked alike.
Like most kampong houses there, they were (in all the villages) not
numbered. So the first thing we had to do was to number them with
blackboard chalk and marked the map of the village correspondingly. By so
doing, we could know which house we had visited and which we hadn’t.
One day, we found a house with so many numbers written on it. It was the
work of some local boys who wanted to have some fun on our account.
Anyway, it didn’t do us any harm. We could still identify the house. We
started our survey in the village that we stayed in i.e. Simpang Bekoh. When
we finished with Simpang Bekoh, we moved on to the next village but we
still stayed at Simpang Bekoh. We commuted in Abang Bidin’s car. I can’t
148 | AHMAD HASSAN

remember exactly how long it took us to finish one village but I remember
when we reached the last village i.e. Simpang Nyalas, it was almost five
months later.
Of course, there were days when we were doing some work in the
District Office of Jasin, checking some documents, or in Malacca Town for
the same reason, or returning to Singapore for further instructions. After
some time there, we became so familiar with the villagers that they took us
for granted. We became a regular feature to them and our visit to their
houses was expected and welcomed. We were even feasted with food and
drinks. Later, I asked Ungku Aziz to supply us with cigarettes so that we
could offer them these during the interview. That was how I started
smoking myself.
It was while working here that I applied to join the teachers’ training
college. At that time, there were three colleges available, two in England
and one in Malaya. The ones in England were MTC Kirkby, in Liverpool
and MTC Brinsford Lodge, which just started that year. The one in Malaya
was the MTC Kota Bharu in Kelantan. When I applied, my decision was to
accept only if I were chosen to go to England. Fortunately, I was chosen to
go to Brinsford Lodge. Otherwise, most probably, I wouldn’t be a teacher
at all. As fate wanted it to be, the chairman of the interview board was Pak
Ngah Yusof, Abang Bidin’s father! My interview was to be in Johor Bahru
and he had to travel down to JB from KL by train. It also meant that I had
to return to JB for the interview. As the train was passing through Ayer
Kuning, a station not very far from Nyalas, where I was working, I was
asked by Pak Ngah Yusof to wait at the Ayer Kuning station and join him
to JB. Abang Bidin drove me there and when the train came, I boarded it
and was shown to a special coach, first class, where Pak Ngah Yusof was
waiting for me!
It was my first experience travelling first class on a train. In those
days, only high-ranking Malayan officers and British officers travelled first
class. I was a little apprehensive when I stepped into the first-class coach.
Besides Pak Ngah Yusof, who sat in a lounge chair type of seat, there were
a few Europeans in the coach. I sat in one of the chairs near Pak Ngah
Yusof. After a brief greeting, we sat quietly minding our own business. Pak
Ngah Yusof was reading a book while I read a magazine and also the
newspaper. We remained like this most of the journey, talking to each other
only once in a while. When we arrived in JB, Pak Ngah Yusof took a taxi to

the VIP Rest House, where he stayed during the duration of the interview.
I took another taxi home.
The next day, the interview took place at the Education Department,
which was then situated in the Johor Government Office building. I saw
many other candidates waiting outside the interview room. I knew some of
them and even chit-chatted among ourselves while waiting for out turn to
be called. Before the start of the interview, one of the officers asked for a
volunteer to be the caller, I quickly volunteered and was given the job of
calling out the name of the candidate to be interviewed. This went on until
my name came up.
When I went into the room to be interviewed, one of the interviewers
said, “Ah, this is the gentleman that has been helping us!” Pak Ngah Yusof,
who was chairing the interview board, smiled and asked me to sit down. I
greeted the board, thanked them and sat in the chair meant for us, the
interviewees. I wasn’t at all nervous or scared during the interview. Besides
knowing the Chairman himself, I had been going in and out of the interview
room when I was helping to call out the interviewees. All the interviewers
seemed very friendly and I was confident that I would be successful in
getting into the college except that I didn’t know which one.
After the interview, I returned to Nyalas and carried on with my
work. On one weekend, Abang Bidin took me to Linggi to his parents’
place. It happened that Topot and Khalid were there too. They knew of my
interview to get into college and their father was the Chairman of the
Interview Board. By that time, the interview which was done in all the major
towns of Malaya, was over and we all were waiting for the results. All the
application forms of those successful in the interview were with Pak Ngah
Yusof. These were kept on the table in his room. Khalid urged me to go
and see if my form was there. I said no, I shouldn’t do that, although in my
heart I was very eager to know.
Anyway, we hardly reached the door of the room, when we heard
Pak Ngah approaching. He saw us loitering near his table and told us not
to touch anything on it. We sheepishly left the room without knowing
whether I was successful or not. Of course, later I was informed officially
by letter that I was chosen to go to Brinsford Lodge. I was still working in
Nyalas while waiting for the news of whether I got a place in college or not.
But before the news came, Abang Bidin was transferred to Perlis as the
RIDA Officer there. So I was left alone in Nyalas. I felt very lonely without
150 | AHMAD HASSAN

him. I wrote to Ungku Aziz asking him to allow me to return to Singapore.
My request was granted and I returned to Singapore. The survey was still
not over and after about a week in Singapore, I had to return to Nyalas.
As we wanted another person to work with me, I recommended a
close friend, Bakar Kasiran for the job. Bakar was not doing anything at that
time, so I asked him to follow me to Nyalas. After about a week with me, I
brought him to see Ungku Aziz in Singapore. Ungku Aziz then gave him
the job and he returned with me to Nyalas. No sooner had we started
working together, I got the letter offering me to go to Brinsford. This meant
that I had to resign from the survey job. I returned to JB to get ready for
the trip to England. Undoubtedly, I was very excited about the new life I
was to face.

14 June 1995
Ungku Aziz, my boss, knew of my desire to go to the teachers’ college.

When I told him that I was offered a place in Brinsford Lodge, he gladly
released me and wished me the best. In fact, he gave me a very good
testimonial, but it came late and I couldn’t bring it to the interview. I had
about two weeks to get ready for my departure to England. Karim, my
housemate, was also chosen to go to England, but in his case, he was going
to another college, the one at Kirkby. We were given a few hundred dollars
(I can’t remember how much exactly) to buy the things, clothes, especially
that we needed for the cold country.
Fortunately, there were people we knew who had been there before
who could give us some advice. Encik Ali Ismail, who had just returned
from Kirkby and was teaching in Bukit Zahrah School, became our – Karim
and I – advisor. So we bought only the necessary things that we could get
here and the rest to be bought in England. I made two suits in Singapore
because I was told that tailormade suits were more expensive in England. I
also bought some cotton shirts which were cheaper here. As the days were
drawing nearer to the time when I was to leave for England, I became more
excited. I almost forgot to see my mother in Mersing. Anyway, I managed
to spend a few days with her.
152 | AHMAD HASSAN

15 June 1995
There were only two from Johor Bahru who were chosen to go to Brinsford
Lodge that year – me and Damudahran, who was my senior in school. We
had to catch the plane in KL. All the students from outside KL were to go
there one day earlier. My relatives and friends saw me off at the JB Railway
Station the evening I boarded the train to KL. We, Damu and I, arrived in
KL the next morning. The place where we were to spend the night was
Sulaiman Hostel which was quite close to the KL Railway Station. I can’t
remember whether we took a taxi or walked there. Anyway, we were among
the first to arrive there. Soon, we saw others coming. It didn’t take us long
to know each other.
Among those who became friends straight away were Alias Hj Idris
from Kuantan, Pahang; Yusof Mydin from Alor Star, Kedah; Mohammed
Salim from Kulim, Kedah and Annas Hj Ahmad (deceased) who came in a
car and offered us a ride to the airport. Most of the students had their
friends and relatives with them. I didn’t have and didn’t expect anyone to
see me there. To my surprise, that evening, Abang Bidin, Topot, Khalid and
Abang Eda came to visit me. I was overjoyed to see them. The next
morning, at the airport, Bakar, my friend who took over my job in Nyalas
came to see me off. I will never forget the day I left for England. Early that
morning, we left for the airport which was then at Sungai Besi and was still
under construction. When I arrived there, together with other students, I
saw tents put up on the airport ground. These tents were put up to handle
the students who were leaving for England by chartered planes.
Furthermore, the airport buildings were not quite ready yet. We checked in
at the counter specially put up in the tents, had our breakfast in the tents,
briefed in the tents and went through the immigration in the tents.

Anyway, I was too excited to think much of the facilities provided.
The sight of the plane standing not far away from where the tents were, was
enough to excite you. It was a two-engined “Argonaut” plane that could
take about fifty passengers. BOAC, the company that owned the plane was
then a major airline that serviced Britain and this part of the world. It was
my first experience flying and to such a distant place to boot. After all the
formalities, we boarded the plane. Our seats were already decided. It was
decided by our body weight! As I was lightweight, I was put towards the
rear of the plane. There were two rows of seats, one with three seats and
the other, two. I sat in the three-seat row. I remember one of the fellows
sitting next to me was Sheikh Mohammed from Batu Pahat. I can’t
remember who the other chap was.
The plane was full and in the plane, we were instructed by the cabin
crew how to fasten the seat belts, how to tilt our seats, where to find the
sick bag and so on. To most of us, if not all, it was our first experience in
flying. So everyone seemed rather nervous and the plane was quiet. No one
seemed to be talking. We just waited for what was to happen next. As for
me, I was worried that I would get sick. I used to get sick travelling in a car
or a boat when I was small. Since this was my first flight, I was sure that I
was going to be sick. As a matter of fact, I did get sick some time during
the flight but I did not throw up. I just felt dizzy and closed my eyes most
of the time. The worst part was during take-off and landing, which the plane
did a lot.
You see, in those days, the flight from KL to London took three
days, with a night stop somewhere along the way. In our case, we stopped
at Colombo, Ceylon for our night stop. After that, we stopped for refuelling
at so many places that by the time we reached London, most of us felt
exhausted. I remember stopping at Madras, Karachi, Delhi, Bahrain, Cairo
and Rome before we finally landed in London.
154 | AHMAD HASSAN

18 June 1995
MOUNT LAVINIA HOTEL
Although the places that we stopped at were famous places which we had
heard about but had never been to before, we were (at least me) too groggy
and tired to enjoy and appreciate them. In some places, we were only at the
airport but in some, we were taken by bus somewhere else to rest. When
we stopped at Colombo, our first stop and spent the night there, we were
still very fresh and active. We arrived there in the afternoon and from the
airport, we were taken to the Mount Lavinia Hotel by the sea. It was a grand
hotel and I was very excited because I remembered seeing the hotel in the
film “The Bridge on the River Kwai”. We all checked in at the hotel, putting
us two in a room. I, however, was given a single room.
My small room was facing the sea. From the window, I could see
waves beating on the rocky shore below. Wow, it was heavenly for me. This
was my first experience staying in such a place. After checking in, we were
told that we were to be taken on a city tour that afternoon. So, after tea, we
all assembled in the lobby to wait for the bus. When the bus came, we all
trooped into it and waited for the driver who disappeared somewhere. After
waiting a while, we became quite restless. Then we saw someone climbing
into the driver’s seat. We were very happy; it turned out the chap was one
of us – Madon!

19 June 1995
We arrived in London on the third morning after we left KL. Though it was
summer, I felt the chill of the English air for the first time and quite liked
it. We were received by two members of the staff of the college who were
specially assigned to do the job. Two coaches waited for us and, as soon as
we were cleared by the immigration and customs, we boarded the coaches
for the long journey to Brinsford Lodge. Though we were tired of the long
plane journey, the excitement of seeing England, especially the beautiful
countryside, for the first time, kept us alert.
The coach journey took us through some villages and small towns,
stopping for lunch and tea at some restaurant or café on the way. The
weather on that day was really beautiful. The sun was shining brightly and,
of course, we didn’t know the difference so much then because the weather
was always like that where we came from. Anyway, we later found out that
the summer of that year (1955) was one of the best of the past ten years.
We arrived at the college late that afternoon and were received by a group
of students who arrived a few days before us. We were shown our blocks
and rooms and were asked to get ready for dinner. Before that, I had a
chance to have a quick look at the college.
Although the first batch of about fifty students arrived just a few
days before us, they were already behaving as if they were our seniors.
Anyway, I was taken around by Hashim Majid, who showed me the various
facilities the college had, places such as the Dining Hall, the Junior
Common Room, the Sick Bay and so on. I was put in F House. Every one
of us got a room each – a very small room about 7 feet by 7 feet. Very few
lucky ones got a much bigger room. Such a person was Alias Hj Idris, who
lived in E House. Later, I moved to this house as most of my close friends
were staying there, but my room was still small.
156 | AHMAD HASSAN

The college was meant for a student population of 300, but that year,
when all the students arrived, there were only 150 of us. There was a lot of
space around. The students were divided into personal groups under the
charge of a Personal Tutor. I can’t remember what my group number was
but my Personal Tutor was Mr Foord, the Art Lecturer. The group met
together once a fortnight. Other than that, you can make an appointment
to meet your Personal Tutor anytime, or your PT can call you any time. The
Junior Common Room was the place where students congregated when
they were free.

21 June 1995
Dinner at college was a formal affair. We had to dress formally in lounge

suits or national costumes. A group of students would be selected to serve
at dinner. A duty roster would be put up on the notice board and we would
know when our turn to serve at dinner was. The servers reported at the
dining hall about 15 minutes before dinner began which was at 7:00 pm. A
leader would be chosen among the servers and his job was to call aloud the
prayers before dinner by saying “Let us remember the good things of the
day”, and all the diners lowered their heads saying whatever prayers in their
own ways. Before this, one of the servers would open the dining hall door
to let in the students who were waiting just outside it. They all rushed in for
the table nearest the door. This was because they wanted to be the first out
to get the best seat in front of the TV in the TV room later!
When all the students had taken their places, standing behind their
chairs, the lecturers came in to take their places at the high table. Only then
the chief waiter announced the prayer. Then we all sat down and dinner was
served. When dinner was over, the duty tutor would make some
announcements, if there were any. Then we left the hall after the lecturers
did. Then, only then, the servers had their dinner.
158 | AHMAD HASSAN

22 June 1995
I must admit that I didn’t enjoy the study part of the college life very much
but I enjoyed all the other part. We were put in houses with about twenty
students per house. The houses were named A, B, C and so on. The men’s
blocks (houses) were on the left-hand side of the college as you entered it
from the main entrance, and the women’s were on the right. In the middle
were all the administrative, educational and other blocks. The principal’s
house was right at the entrance next to the tennis courts. The lecturers’
quarters were at one end of the college compound.
The college buildings were made of prefabricated materials heated
centrally with hot water pipes that run all over the college compound from
the centrally located boiler house to all the blocks. The first thing that one
would notice as one entered the college was the pipeline that ran all over
the college slightly above the height of the roofs of the houses. I was
wondering what it was when I first saw it. The buildings were low, painted
dark red on the outside and built like longhouses. Each student block had
an entrance at one end and another, which was meant as an emergency exit
at the other end. There was also an emergency exit in the middle. As you
entered the block, on one side was the small kitchen area. On the other,
toilets, followed by the washroom and bathroom. Then the student rooms,
about 20 of them. At the end of the block, as you walked through the centre
corridor, was the sitting room. Here the members of the house would gather
to chit-chat or have some form of recreation. Here too, we would listen to
music or hold house parties which we had quite often.
The interior of the house was very nice. It was painted white or cream
with nice flowery curtains that matched our bedcover. The cupboard where
we kept or hid our things, was built in. A small writing table with a
cushioned chair was in one corner of the room. On the wall just next to the

window was a mirror with a small shelf beneath it. Here we put all our
toiletries. Next to the bed, on the wall was another shelf where we could
put all our books. Oh yes, the most important item in the room was the
heater which was attached to the wall below the window. It was heated by
hot water which was piped into it and came from the boiler house in the
centre of the campus. Each of us had a key to our room door which could
be locked. It was a latchkey and quite often, if you forgot to bring the key
out, you would be locked out. You needed to go to the guardhouse to
borrow the spare key to open your door. Our bed sheets and pillowcases
were changed once a week. They just gave us the sheets and the cases. We
had to do the bed ourselves.
160 | AHMAD HASSAN

24 June 1995
The twenty or so students in each house took turns to be on duty each week.
The duty roster was done by the college authority to ensure that everyone
must carry out their duty. The main duty of the duty student, referred to as
“Duty Master”, was to report that everyone in the house was back in the
house at 11:00 pm, when the “Duty Tutor” came round to check. In the
beginning, this was done very enthusiastically but as time went by it became
less and less serious. The Duty Master just waited at the main door and
announced to the Duty Tutor that everyone was in without even bothering
to find out if indeed everyone was in. It happened a few times when after
reporting that everyone was in, just then a student walked in from
somewhere! Of course, both the student and the Duty Master mainly, were
reprimanded. On some occasions, the Duty Tutor checked the rooms
himself.
The favourite place for male students to spend their nightly activities
and caused them to walk late into college was the local pub, the “Red, White
and Blue”, not far away. I, myself, was one of the regulars of the pub but I
never came home late. My regular drinking “kaki’s” were Alias and Yusof.
We spent, on average, three to four times a week at the pubs. Yes, “Red,
White and Blue” was not the only pub that we frequented. There were many
others.

25 June 1995
We were then paid £10/- pocket money a month, which was about RM85/-
according to the exchange rate then. They were using pounds, shillings and
pence at that time. There were 12 pence in a shilling and 20 shillings in a
pound. Although we were taught this in school, but when it came to using
the money for the first time, it was quite confusing. After a while, we got
used to it. The £10/- we got monthly was enough because you didn’t have
to pay for food and lodging. Even some books were given to you for free.
Anyway, as I smoked and drank as well, I found it difficult to save
anything for holidays. Cigarettes were expensive but beer was cheap.
However, I managed to go on holiday during the long vacation with some
help from home. Once I got help from Che Nga, my aunty from Singapore,
who gave me about £40/-. With that money, I managed to visit some places
in Europe. I didn’t see very much, as some of the students did. During my
first year, I only visited Switzerland. I went together with our Scout Troop
led by Mr Dobbs, our Music lecturer. We went to the International Scout
Camp at a place called Kinderstag, near Interlaken. We were there for about
a week. Then we were on our own for a few more days before we left for
home in England.
162 | AHMAD HASSAN

26 June 1995
As I mentioned earlier, I didn’t really enjoy the study part of the college but
I did get by all right. The subjects that I liked most were music and art. I
took up music in my second year. In the first year, besides the educational
subjects, such as the Principle of Education, Educational Psychology,
Educational Method, and so on. We also had to do basic English, Malay
and Physical Education. On top of these, we had to specialise in two other
teaching subjects. In my case, I took Arts and Crafts and Geography.
Then, in the second year, the college decided to add another teaching
subject. So I took music. In fact, I was more interested in Music than in any
other subjects. I was learning to play the piano and the recorder
(compulsory for all music students), the clarinet and the guitar. Of course,
I was a member of the choir. At the end of the term, the music students
would put up a concert. The concert was the performance of the choir
which sang some works by famous classical composers. Besides the choir,
some instrumental numbers were also presented. I once performed with
Alias, playing a duet on our clarinets. I also sang solo; the first time was
“Blow the Wind Southerly” and the second was a song from Mozart’s
“Magic Flute”.

27 June 1995
Life in college was not all work. There was a lot of time for fun. We used to
go out visiting some places during weekends and shopping in
Wolverhampton. The college had a coach bus which left the college for
Wolverhampton at 3:00 pm every day. Those who were free then and
wanted to go shopping in Wolverhampton could take the coach. Otherwise,
you could take the No. 21 public bus from Featherstone, about five
minutes’ walk from the college. The last bus from Wolverhampton was at
10:00 pm. If you missed this one, you wouldn’t be able to be back in college
by 11:00 pm, unless you took a taxi which would cost you a bomb! The
distance between Wolverhampton and the college was about 10 miles.
Once, we went out to Wolverhampton for the pictures and ended up
at the pub after that. We were so engrossed in what we were doing that we
missed the bus back to college. There was a bus, however, that went only
as far as halfway between the college and Wolverhampton. I forgot the
name of this village. Anyway, we took this bus and walked the rest of the
journey. Naturally, we arrived at the college past the curfew time and there
standing at the entrance, was the Duty Tutor. Our names were taken and
then sent off to bed as we were hardly able to walk straight.
164 | AHMAD HASSAN

28 June 1995
Quite a number of students picked up drinking here, including me. This was
because beer was cheap and going to the pub was the local past-time. The
first time I went to the pub was with Alias and Yusof. Later, the three of us
became regulars. There was this trainer (a trainer was a qualified teacher
who went to the college to attend a special course for a year to become a
lecturer in teacher’s training college when they returned to Malaya) whose
name was Macintyre, who was an established drinker even before he went
to England. He used to drink every day and sometimes after the closing
time of the pubs, would bring bottled beer to the college to continue
drinking. It was here that we sometimes joined him. Poor Mac, I was told
that he died an alcoholic (May God bless his soul).
Anyway, Alias Yusof and, I became established drinkers ourselves,
even after our return home. Until my heart by-pass operation in Adelaide,
I was still drinking beer. In fact, that evening before my heart attack, I had
a couple of beers with Grant, our MBf staff in Adelaide. Since then, I have
not had any beer yet. I can’t say whether I am going to stop dinking
completely. I just refrain from doing so at the moment. God willing, I’ll just
keep it that way.

29 June 1995
As part of our Arts course in college, we had to attend a life class at the
College of Art in Wolverhampton. This, we did once a week in the evening
for about a term. A life class was a drawing class using real-life models. The
first time we were in this class, most of us almost fainted with shock. For
the first time in our lives, we saw a stark naked, Mat Salleh woman standing
in front of us, waiting to be drawn. I was shocked but after a while, I got
used to it. There was this student whose name was Vincent Voo. He just
sat there looking at the model; couldn’t do anything but sharpen his pencil.
He went on sharpening his pencil until there was nothing left of it. The
others, like me, including the girl students, got over the first shock all right
and went on to draw the model.
The instructor was very good. He showed us the right technique for
figure drawing. We all sat at our benches with an easel attached to each
bench, in a semicircle with the model in the middle. We began by drawing,
using charcoal on paper. The model would rest after posing for us for about
20 minutes or so. During the 5 minutes’ rest, she would put on her dressing
gown and take it off again to continue posing. I was told that she wasn’t
paid much for her job. We had a few other models to pose for us on other
nights. Once, to our disappointment, a male model posed for us. He wasn’t
completely naked. He had a loincloth on. But that wasn’t as bad as one
evening when no model turned up. So, our Arts lecturer from college, who
always accompanied us, Mr Foord, posed for us. Of course, he didn’t take
off his clothes. I think I made a very good drawing of him. It was a pencil
drawing and when Mr Foord saw it, he liked it very much.
As I said earlier, the life class was only for about a term. In fact, I
missed several classes myself. It was mainly because I got bored towards
the end. What we did was draw with charcoal or pencil. We never got to
166 | AHMAD HASSAN

paint. The class was held especially for us, from our college on that
particular night. However, later we found that one or two others joined us.
One night, I saw this man, an elderly fellow who had been coming to the
class, brought a camera with him. No one was supposed to do so. Anyway,
he secretly took pictures of the model. I think the lecturer knew about it
and must have given the man permission. The model didn’t seem to realise
what was going on. One night, during her rest time, I spoke to the model.
She told me that she was a housewife with two kids earning extra money.

1 July 1995
For the past six months, I have been writing every night, never missing a
night. For the next six months, insya’Allah, I’m going to address it to my
two sons, Azhar and Azman. So here goes.
My dear Az and Man, my idea of writing this story of my life is to let
you really know me, especially about the part that you never heard before.
So far, I have written about my childhood, the people I grew up with, my
schooling days, my little adventures and things I used to enjoy doing. I have
not written them in any particular order, but just write what I can think of
at that moment. I’m going to continue doing the same way, I’ve so far
mentioned my family, my mother, my father and their respective families
briefly.
I know not much about my father’s side of the family. I know that
my father’s father’s name was Da, but never met him or knew him at all. I
know my father’s mother, however. I called her Tok and I mentioned her
in my earlier part of the story. Tok, if I’m not mistaken originated from
Terengganu, just like my great-grandmother, on my mother’s side. Da, my
grandfather, I was told, originated from Pahang.
168 | AHMAD HASSAN

2 July 1995
I don’t know if my father went to school or not. But he wrote very well in
Jawi. That was one of the reasons why my great-grandmother liked him so
much and matched him with my mother when she was still in her teens. My
great-grandmother used to ask my father to write letters for her. My father
wrote beautiful letters, in the style of the old days – very flowery, very
formal.
I don’t know what my father was doing when he married my mother.
According to my birth certificate, my father’s job was ‘berkebun’ or farming.
That means he was farming when I was born. But where was the farm? I
don’t remember us having any farm except that my father acquired a piece
of land, about three acres, at Batu Tiga on the Jemaluang road. But then, I
was already about 4 or 5 years old. I remember my father building a house
there, and I and my brother spent some time there with my father and
mother.
You see, my brother and I never really stayed with our parents. Our
great-grandmother (our mother’s grandmother) looked after us all,
including our mother. I think the first time my mother stayed away from
our great-grandmother was to stay at the house my father built in Batu Tiga.
Even that was only for a short while. She went back to stay with our great-
grandmother.

3 July 1995
I don’t know if I know my father when I was small. As far as I know, I

didn’t mind whether he existed or not. To me then, the man whom I cared
for more and called ‘ayah’ was Ayah Awang. Yes, I did call my father ‘ayah’.
That was because my brother called him so and everybody else referred him
to me as ‘ayah’. Of course, when I grew up I realised that he was my real
father. Oh yes, when I was small, I referred to my father as ‘Ayah Abang’ –
my brother’s father.
As I have mentioned earlier, my mother was very young when she
married my father. I don’t think there was any love, real love, I mean,
between them. By the time I was born, my mother showed some kind of
resistance to the marriage which was, by the way, an arranged one. That was
the time when she used to frequent Singapore where her mother was
staying. My father was then working for PWD as a ferry operator. While my
father was gentle and tolerant, my mother was stubborn. The rift in their
marriage began then, but it was not until they got two more children, my
two sisters, Zaiton and Hasnah, that the marriage broke up. As far as I was
concerned, I didn’t feel a thing. It didn’t affect me at all.
170 | AHMAD HASSAN

4 July 1995
Although my father and my mother were divorced they were still on talking
terms and my father used to come to our house. I wasn’t aware that they
were divorced because things seemed to be quite the same. My mother was
always there at home, and my father who used to be away from home most
of the time on account of his duty as a ferry operator; the landing of which
was not far from our house, was never really missed. So long as there was
Cik, our great-grandmother, who looked after us in that big house of ours,
that was all that mattered.
Me and my brother were very happy children as there were so many
people in the house who took care of us. I don’t remember my mother
looking after us. It was always Cik, our great-grandmother who made sure
that we had everything we needed. After the divorce, my mother went to
stay with her mother in Singapore for a while. I remember one day, she
returned home from Singapore, looking so different, I could hardly
recognise her. She had her hair permed and wearing a kebaya, instead of her
usual long hair in a bun and Malay baju. To top it all, she was wearing dark
glasses! Wow, she looked different – no more like the kampong girl she was.

5 July 1995
My mother loved music, or at least listening to music. She had a good

collection of records – those big 68 r.p.m. records. She had this
gramophone which looked like a small cupboard. The lower portion was
used to store the records.
To play the record, you have to open the cover or the lid which was
at the top of the gramophone and it stayed open with the help of a hook.
Then you wind the spring; put the record on the turntable; put a needle
(specially made for the purpose) in the arm, which could be moved up and
down and sideways; released the catch that held the turntable from moving.
When the turntable began to revolve, put the arm with the needle onto the
record. The arm was a hollow piece of metal with a head in the shape of a
disc. The head was also hollow with a diaphragm inside it that caused the
sound to amplify, thus enabling us to hear the music. The sharp needle
attached to the head moved along the groove in the record. It was important
that the needle be sharp. Each needle could be used for only two records.
After that, it was necessary to change the needle. The used needles would
be thrown away. During the Japanese time, we used to sharpen the used
needles to play the record, for needles were not available then.
172 | AHMAD HASSAN

6 July 1995
Even before I went to school, I was able to recognise the companies which
produced the records. The most popular was the HMV record (His Master’s
Voice) which had a picture of a dog sitting in front of a gramophone. Then
there was the MGM’s with the picture of a lion. I knew the names of the
records later when I was much bigger and went to school.
One of the first songs I used to remember quite well, was a song
called “Bunga”, sung by a singer very popular at that time, named Ahmad
C.B. Another popular singer then, was Abdul Rahman and a bit later, Mohd
Yatim, who sang “Zahrah”, a song supposedly written for my mother.
During the Japanese Occupation, I remember this mamak shop next door
to my auntie’s rented house in Mersing Kanan. Every day the shop played
its gramophone to entertain the customers. Me and my cousins used to
frequent the shop to listen to music. One of the songs I remember well was
“Kopi Susu”. It goes something like this:
“Kopi susu, kurang manis, tambah gula. Anak wayang, kalua lihat di malam
hari, malam hari. Muka cantik, hidung mancung macam bidadari. Kopi susu, kurang
manis, ditambah gula. Anak wayang kalua lihat di siang hari, siang hari, muka pucat,
mata cenkong macam pencuri. Ma’af sobat kerana saya bergurau saja.”

7 July 1995
Talking about lyrics to music, I once read a letter written by one reader of
The Straits Times who asked if anyone could help him with the lyrics of
“Terang Bulan”, which is now, of course, our national anthem, “Negara
Ku”. I should have replied because I know the lyrics very well. I used to
teach this song to English children in schools that I went to for my teaching
practice in England. Of course, the tune wasn’t used as our national anthem
yet at that time. The lyrics are like this: “Terang bulan, bintang-bintang pun
berchaya. Duduk termenung, Memikirkan cinta, Memikirkan tuan, Yang jauh di
mata, Sampai hati, Meninggalkan saya.” Try and sing this to the “Negara Ku”
tune. And then, when I was in Special Malay Class Two, my class teacher,
Mr Charlie Hu, one day brought his portable gramophone and played some
records to the class. One of the songs he played was the English version of
the “Terang Bulan” called “Mamula Moon”. It began like this: “Mamula
moon, shines high above the southern sea…”. I can’t remember the rest. I wonder
if the song is still available.
Another song he played was “Chee Baa Baa” which went something
like this: “Chee baa baa, chee baa baa, chee waa waa, Angilaa waa, Koo kaa laa
gumba. Chee baa baa, chee baa baa, chee waa waa. My bambino, go to sleep. All the
stars are in the sky. Ready to say good night. Can’t you see your doll is sleepy too. Close
your drowsy little eyes. Mama will hold you tight. And she sings this lullaby to you. Chee
baa baa, chee baa baa, chee waa waa, Angilaa waa, Koo kaa laa gumba. Chee baa baa,
chee baa baa, chee waa waa. My bambino, go to sleep.” And when you were babies,
I used to sing you to sleep with this beautiful lullaby.
I must say I’m lucky to be blessed with the ability to remember music
well. Some of the songs that I used to hear a long time ago are still clear in
my mind. During the Japanese Occupation, we learnt a lot of Japanese
songs. We used to sing them a lot although we didn’t know the meaning.
174 | AHMAD HASSAN

One of my favourites was a beautiful ballad called “Ma shiro ki pu ji no”. I
still remember some of the lyrics and used to sing them to myself whenever
I think of the difficult life I had during the Japanese Occupation.
Music always does something to me. Even when I was small, music
had an emotional effect on me. When I was lonely, I would sing quietly to
myself and would cry, and even today, I still do – especially after my heart
bypass operation. Today, when I drive alone and think of my childhood
days, I would sing a sad song and I would cry. I do that too when I think of
my mother!

9 July 1995
The expression ‘Jack of all trades and a master of none’ describes me very
well. I can’t recall what I am really outstanding at. Even as a child, I was
interested in so many things. When I was in school, I was involved in sports
and games (I played football, rugby, hockey, badminton, table tennis, and
later tennis), drama, music, art, chess and photography. In photography, I
was more interested in the processing part.
My first introduction to photography was through being a member
of the camera club in primary school (Bukit Zahrah school). There, I learnt
how to print pictures using the contact print method. The printing ‘box’,
which looked like a pin-ball machine, was used to contact print photos.
First, you put the negative on the glass plate which lay horizontally, the top
side of the box. Inside the box, directly below the glass plate, was a 100-
watt light bulb. On the negative, you put the photographic paper, shiny side
down (all this was done in partial darkness – the only light was the safety
light, red in colour) and switched on the light in the box for a few seconds.
After switching off the light, the photographic paper was taken out and
immersed in the developer, which was in a special tray. The photographic
paper, with the shiny side up, was closely watched for the picture began to
slowly appear. When the picture was clear enough, it was taken out and
immersed in the tray of hypo which was the fixer. Before you fix the picture,
rinse it first in water. Then, after a few minutes, you could switch on the
light to see the picture. Using clothes pegs, you hung the pictures to dry.
Pictures from contact print were exactly the size of the negatives.
Later, I learnt how to enlarge pictures. There was an enlarger in the
darkroom which the teacher in charge, Mr. Chen, taught us how to use.
Enlarging a picture was more complicated. Anyway, I soon mastered the
technique and was able to enlarge pictures.
176 | AHMAD HASSAN

Next, I learnt how to process films. This was even more difficult. In
those days, the films were quite big. One of the sizes of the film that I can
remember was the 120 film. The unexposed film was rolled up in a metal
spool with light-proofed paper, yellow on the outside and black on the
inside. After the film had been exposed to a camera, the film would be
manually rewound and taken out of the camera. Then, in the darkroom
(totally dark), the films would be peeled off from the paper cover. Holding
the film at each end (the film was about 3 feet long) with the thumb and the
index finger of each hand, you immersed the film, starting with one end
into the developer. Then you slowly pulled that end up, letting the rest of
the film pass through the developer. When you reached the other end, you
repeated the process by going in the reverse direction. You did this for
several minutes, making sure that every part of the film was immersed in
the developer. To count the time, we just counted it orally. Then, we quickly
rinsed it in running water and fixed it in the hypo (fixer). After that, we
could switch on the light and see the film which was the negative. Once the
negative was dry, we could print the photos.
Compared to the method of processing films today, our method may
seem very primitive. But it was fun as the result was quite unpredictable.
Sometimes, due to some errors in the calculations (the time, the temperature
and the mixing of the chemicals), the result was disastrous. Later, I was
introduced to using the developing tank. The tank made from plastic
material, was cylindrical in shape, slightly bigger than a milk tin, and black
in colour. It had a cover with a hole in the middle. Inside the tank, there
was a plastic spool which could be taken out. At each end of the spool was
a disc with grooves on the inside. The film was threaded through the
grooves, by inserting one end of it in, and then twisting both the discs, each
time in the opposite direction, thus pulling the film into the spool. This was
done in total darkness. One must have a good sense of touch. Once the
film was in the spool, it was put back in the tank and closed tightly. You
could then switch on the light or bring the tank outside in the open. Then
the developer was poured into the tank, through the hole in the cover of
the tank. The spool in the tank was twirled now and again with a plastic
stick, meant for the purpose to ensure that every part of the film was washed
by the developer. After about one or two minutes (the time depends on the
type of film and the strength of the developer), the developer was poured
out of the tank. Clean water was then poured into the tank to rinse the film.

After that, the fixer was poured into the tank. After a few minutes of
twirling the spool again, the tank could be opened and the film was taken
out. The film was now developed!
The climax of my experience in the processing of films was the
processing of colour film for making colour slides. This was when I was at
Kirkby College in England in 1962. You see, Uncle Mat Salim, who was
with me in the college was and still is a photography buff. He bought not
only cameras but also some equipment for processing, such as an enlarger
and so on. He was the one who learnt how to process colour films. One
day, he invited me to help him to process the colour film. The process was
quite complicated, but our attempt was a success. We also experimented
with the making of black and white slides which could be projected onto
the screen. We also made copies of pictures and photos using the enlarger.
Uncle Mat Salim shared with me the technique which he learnt in
college, as he was specialising in audio-visual aid. I still remember how it
was done. First, you put the picture that you want to copy at the base of the
enlarger, where you normally put the photographic paper for enlarging
photos. Then, you focus the enlarger light on the picture until it is really
sharp. You also adjust the brightness of the light. Then you switch off the
light and put an unexposed film (a special film for copy work – very slow
speed) in the enlarger, where you normally put the film for enlarging photos.
You then switch the enlarger light on for a few seconds. The unexposed
film catches the image of the picture below as a camera would do when you
take a photograph of any object or scene. After that, you remove the film
and put it in the developer for about a minute or so. The film, which is
white before being developed, turns black and becomes a negative. When
dry, you can now print it and the result would be the exact copy of the
picture copied, if the job is properly done.
178 | AHMAD HASSAN

14 July 1995
TELOK SARI
My dear Az and Man, tonight I would like to talk about this place called
Telok Sari. I had mentioned this place earlier. Telok Sari, a seaside village
between Mersing and Endau, today seems to be an abandoned place. The
first time I went to Telok Sari was when I was maybe 4 or 5 years old. I
went there with Ayah Awang and Mak Som, my adoptive parents. I
remember this boat ride from Mersing which took more than two hours. It
was in the evening and as I was a bad traveller, I slept most of the way.
When we arrived at Telok Sari, it was dark and, with the help of some
kerosene lamps, we got ashore safely.
I don’t know how Ayah Awang was related to the Penghulu of Telok
Sari, but we stayed with him during our stay there. The Tok Penghulu of
Telok Sari was an interesting man. He had four wives. Each wife stayed in
a house just next to each other. We stayed in the first wife’s house. If I’m
not mistaken, her name was Hawa and was very good at sewing, especially
baju Melayu. I had a few sewn by her. When I was staying in Muar with Ayah
Awang, the Tok Penghulu and the wives and children were also in Muar. So
we did see them again.
Now, coming back to Telok Sari. As I remember, it was quite a big
village with its town centre consisting of two rows of shophouses facing
each other. As the village was by the sea, all around it was sandy. The open
space between the two rows of shophouses was the public thoroughfare,
like a wide road, except that there were no vehicles plying it. It was very
sandy and on hot days, the fine loose sand was very hot and if you walked
on it barefooted, you may not be comfortable at all.

There were quite a few coffee shops run by Hainanese. These coffee shops
were very popular places for the locals to gather. The local men, who were
mainly fishermen, would sit at the coffee shop until quite late in the evening,
talking to each other or just sitting there drinking one cup of coffee after
another. To reach Telok Sari from Mersing was by boat. There were regular
boats plying between Mersing and Telok Sari. Most of these boats were
fishing motorboats.
After the war, my stepfather, Cikgu Leman, was posted to teach in
the school in Telok Sari. My great-grandmother and I followed my mother
and Cikgu Leman to Telok Sari. We stayed in a rented house near the local
mosque. The house was much further inland from the sea. However, the
space in front of the house was so open and flat that we could see the sea
from the house. In between was the schoolhouse and the school playing
field. In front of the house, to the left, was the mosque.
Telok Sari was a fishing village with about a few hundred people
living in it. The only way to reach it was by sea or by walking along the
beach. This made it difficult to get in and out of Telok Sari during the
North-East monsoon. During those three months or so, Telok Sari was
almost cut off from civilization. There was another way to enter and exit
the village. I once went through this way as the sea was too rough for any
boat to travel on it. From Mersing, we took a bus which was going to
Endau. About halfway, we (my stepfather and two other people and me)
got down. It was right in the middle of the jungle. From the road, we went
into the jungle. Following a track, we trudged through the jungle, sometimes
so thick that the sunlight could hardly penetrate through. I saw rattan plants
growing wild for the first time and also nibong palms.
Occasionally, we came across an open ground with grass growing
like a field. After about an hour and a half of walking through this jungle,
we came to a river. Here, we rested for a while and got onto a boat which
was rowed by the two men. I can’t remember how long it took, but what a
relief it was for me to see Telok Sari. But, for the first time, I saw Telok Sari
from another direction, from the inland – not from the sea.
180 | AHMAD HASSAN

17 July 1995
The government built a house for my stepfather. It was built just a few
metres from the beach and very near the school. When the tide was high,
the water almost reached the house and during low tide, there was a stretch
of white beach just next to the house. Oh, I really loved this place. Every
time I came back for my school holidays, I felt like not wanting to go back
to school in Johor Bahru.
The river I mentioned earlier, ran through the village to the sea and
the village was actually at the river mouth. Our house was on the right side
of the river mouth nearest the open sea. From the house, we could see the
open sea and all the boats that came in very clearly. Of course, during the
monsoon season, we would get the blast from the strong wind first. And
then, the roar of the waves was heard day and night until the season was
over. The sea looked white with foam from the waves, which came in
several feet high crashing onto the beach. I used to enjoy watching this.
The roar of the sea and the crashing of the waves are still vivid in my
mind. Then, of course, there was the rain which fell continuously for days.
During this time, the fishermen could not go out to sea and could not earn
a living. They then became the victims of the towkays who gave them loans
to be paid when they started catching fish again once the bad season was
over. They went on like this, year in and year out, not being able to save at
all. No wonder the fishermen of the east coast, as a whole, always lived in
poverty.
Among the bad habits I noticed of the fishermen, was buying coffee
from the coffee shop instead of making it themselves. For instance, if you
visited their houses, they would send someone, a child or somebody like
that, with a container to buy coffee from the nearby coffee shop to serve
you. Another unproductive pastime practised by the fishermen was to sit in

the coffee shops for hours if they had nothing to do. I saw this happening
in Mersing, Telok Sari and Kemaman.
Oh yes, there is yet another interesting pastime. In all these fishing
villages along the East Coast that I’ve opportunity to visit, there was always
a shop with a billiard table. Here, you would see a big group of people
watching some of the fishermen playing billiards. They were really good.
Later, I found out that they played for money. In Telok Sari, the billiard
parlour was in one of the shops. It became the centre of some popular
activities until the early hours of the morning. The sarong-clad players would
play on, watched by the sarong-clad fishermen. Yes, they all wore sarongs;
men and women, except that the men sometimes didn’t wear anything on
top, except for a piece of cloth like a towel slung over the shoulder.
Thinking about this now reminds me of what Abdullah Munshi
described the Malays of the East Coast during his visit there. He described
them almost exactly the way I saw them, almost 100 years later. The
impression that one would get was that they were all a lazy lot – just sitting
around with their sarongs around them, doing nothing productive. I came
from that kind of environment, although my father was not a fisherman.
Had he been one, perhaps now I would be a fisherman myself.
My ‘escape’ to Johor Bahru to attend the English school there, was
a big change in my life. Had I not done so, perhaps my outlook in life would
have been different and perhaps I would have been a different me
altogether. Now, I can look back with a feeling of how lucky I am compared
to some of my friends who remained behind. I remember meeting some of
them years later. They looked much older than me and, sorry to say, were
very much behind time. I believe the one way of improving the kampong
Malays is to educate and expose them to the town! I didn’t have many
friends when I was small, in Mersing. The problem was, there weren’t many
boys of my age around my house at that time. Furthermore, I was too
overprotected by my brother and cousins. They were the only friends I had.
Then, when I went to school, my brother and cousins were there too.
Earlier, I mentioned that there was this boy who went with me to
Johor Bahru to sit for the entrance examination to the English school. His
name was Wan Mohamed. As fate would have it, he didn’t sit for the exam
on account that his uncle with whom he was to stay, moved to another
place, on the same day of the exam. I don’t know why the uncle couldn’t at
least wait until the exam was over and then move. Had he done so, Wan
182 | AHMAD HASSAN

Mohamed could have been with me in the English school. I found out later
that he returned to Mersing and continued in the Malay school. He
ultimately became a Malay school teacher. During the school holidays, when
I went back to Mersing, I used to meet him and he wasn’t very friendly
towards me. He must have felt very envious of me and couldn’t help feeling
that he could’ve been in the same school as me. Anyway, I didn’t see very
much of him after that.
In my own family, I was the first to be educated in English. On my
father’s side, Long Hassan, my father’s nephew, was the first to have gone
to SITC (Sultan Idris Training College) Tanjong Malim to be framed as a
Malay school teacher. In those days, SITC Tanjong Malim could be
considered the highest educational institution a Malay schoolboy could have
gone to. The best of the boys from Malay schools (which only gave a
primary education) were chosen to go to SITC. So, those who were selected
to go there were really among the best of the Malays. Had there been
secondary Malay schools and tertiary-level educational institutions at that
time, those who were selected to go to SITC, could’ve been university
graduates. Anyway, many of them who came out of SITC later studied
English on their own, while they were teaching in the Malay schools, and
sat for the school certificate in English. After passing that, they tried the
HSC (Higher School Certificate) also in English, and after passing that,
went to the university and graduated as graduate teachers. One of them was
my brother, Pak Long.
The best example of a Malay school teacher who went through this
process and reached the highest level of educational achievement is Tan Sri
Professor Awang Had Salleh. Today, he is a prominent educationist in the
country. From a Malay school teacher, he rose to become the Vice-
Chancellor of a university! There are many others, who started as Malay
school teachers, studied on their own as they never had any formal
secondary school education, and went to the university. Not until the Malay
secondary schools were established in 1961, beginning with Malay
secondary classes in some English secondary schools, had the Malay
children who went to Malay schools have any opportunity to have any
secondary level education.
The Malays had been fighting for Malay secondary schools for years.
Then, in the 1960s, about four years after Merdeka, a start was made. Some
children from Malay schools throughout the country were chosen to study

in specially created Malay-medium classes in some chosen English schools.
There were no teachers specially trained for the job, there were no
textbooks written in Malay then and there was no proper terminology for
words used in subjects such as Maths and Science. For teachers, all Malay
secondary teachers were asked to teach these classes and for textbooks, the
teachers had to translate them from the English textbooks.
I was involved in this in 1962 when I was transferred to teach in a
secondary school in Johor Bahru. The school was called Secondary English
School, which used to be English College Annexe, and now it is called
Sekolah Dato’ Jaafar. I was given to look after Tingkatan Satu B and was
teaching Bahasa Melayu, Tawarikh (now known as Sejarah), Ilmu Alam (now
known as Geografi), Senaman (now called Pendidikan Jasmani) and Lukisan
(now called Pendidikan Seni). There were only a handful of us, Malay teachers
and every one of us had to handle the Malay-medium classes.
As we were not trained to teach in Malay, we had difficulty teaching
that language at first. One of the major problems was the lack of proper
terminology to use. I remember when I was teaching P.E. (those days it was
P.T.), I wasn’t sure of how to say “free running”, “feet astride” and so on.
I used to translate English textbooks for my history lesson. This I did
chapter by chapter until the whole book was translated. Whenever I wasn’t
sure of the Malay terms, I used English. At this time, the Dewan Bahasa
dan Pustaka was busy preparing the proper terminology for all the subjects.
We were supplied with lists of words from time to time. Textbooks, too,
were being written but they were mostly translations from the existing
English textbooks.
Year by year, the number of students was getting bigger and bigger
until the first batch sat for the Malay medium school certificate. I can’t
remember when exactly the first batch of Malay students sat for the Malayan
Certificate of Education exam in Malay. Anyway, during that time English
schools were still the major schools and the main exam was still the
Cambridge School Certificate. Slowly, but surely, the Overseas Cambridge
School Certificate was replaced by the Federation of Malaya Certificate
(FMC). During the transition period, a student could offer both and could
get two certificates in one exam.
Later, the FMC was changed to the Malayan Certificate of Education
(MCE). All these exams were in English and a pass in the English Language
was a must. When the Malay-medium school certificate exam was
184 | AHMAD HASSAN

conducted, there were two media exams then – English and Malay. By this
time, there were already full Malay medium schools, e.g. Sekolah Alam
Shah, in KL. By 1965, there were many Malay-medium secondary schools
in all the states in the country. In the same year, I was made the headmaster
of a Malay-medium secondary school in Kemaman, Terengganu. It was
called Sekolah Menengah Kebangsaan (SMK) – a national secondary
school. Before this, I was teaching in another school in Kemaman, called
the Secondary Continuation School.
The continuation schools were set up throughout the country to
serve children who failed their Standard Six exam in primary school and
could not continue their secondary education in the normal secondary
schools. Before the setting up of secondary continuation schools, thousands
of children at the age of around twelve dropped out of school on account
of failing the Standard 6 exam. The government then realised the fate of
these children – not good enough to continue with their academic pursuits
and too young to be employed. So it was decided that they should be kept
in school until they were fifteen, at least.
Thus the secondary continuation school was formed. The curriculum
was modified to suit these children. The emphasis was more towards basic
education – one that can be very useful in everyday life. In the teaching of
language, for example, emphasis was given to reading ability, writing for
specific purposes, e.g. filling in forms or writing letters and for Maths, areas
such as weight and measure, calculation or areas and volumes and the like
were taught. I enjoyed teaching in this school because the children were not
put under pressure as they were not preparing for any exam. As
I was teaching many subjects here – English, Maths, Science,
Agriculture Science and Art – I could just move from subject to subject
without really following the timetable. For example, when I was teaching
Maths and the following subject was Art, I could just continue teaching
Maths until there was an opportunity for me to make use of the knowledge
in Maths for art, e.g. the constructions of circles using the compass and the
properties of circles and triangles and angles – all these could be turned to
designs and shapes as the basis for artwork. When I taught them weight and
measure, I asked some of the children whose parents ran provision shops,
to bring the dacing (weighing balance). We used this to understand ‘kati’ and
‘tahil’. To understand measurements such as inches, feet, yards, etc. I made
them measure various things in and out of the classroom using rulers,

measuring tapes and even borrowed measuring chains from the survey
office.
One day, a boy asked me how to measure the height of a tree. In a
simplified version, I showed them how to do it through calculation. This I
demonstrated by drawing diagrams on the board. I told them that they had
to imagine a right-angled triangle (it gave me the opportunity to teach them
the various types of triangles) formed by the tree, in the ground and the top
of the tree to a point on the ground. This point must be marked at a certain
distance from the base of the tree. I told them that the distance from this
point to the base of the tree can be easily measured with a measuring tape.
I also told them that in order to calculate the height of the tree, we must
have two known facts. We already knew the length of the distance between
the base of the tree to the point on the ground. Next, we can, by using a
homemade protractor (a big one), measure the angle made by the ground
and the imaginary line from the point on the ground to the top of the tree.
Then, I explained to them that by using a formula used in trigonometry (I
never used this word), we could calculate the height of a tree, building, or
mountain. This was not in their syllabus but, in Form 2, they didn’t realise
that they were already learning trigonometry, which students normally learn
in Form 5.
Although these students were not preparing for any public exam,
such as the LCE at Form 3, they could sit for the exam if they wanted to.
In fact, some did and got through it all right. In the school where I was
teaching, there were English as well as Malay-medium classes. I taught in
both.
After two years there, I was appointed headmaster of a new type of
secondary school which the government introduced. It was the
comprehensive type of school, which in Malay was known as the ‘sekolah
anika jurusan’. With the establishment of this type of school, the secondary
continuation school was closed and the students were transferred to the
new school. It was in this school that the former students of the secondary
school took the LCE exam and many of them passed. Incidentally, only the
Malay-medium classes went to my school, and the English-medium ones
went to the English-medium secondary school (the SIS in Kemaman).
It was at the same time, too, that the standard six exam in primary
school, which was used to decide whether a pupil could go to secondary
school or not, was abolished. All primary school children could then
186 | AHMAD HASSAN

proceed to secondary school under the comprehensive school system.
Under the comprehensive school system, the secondary school also offered
vocational subjects, such as Industrial Arts and Domestic Science, besides
the usual academic subjects. All children at Form 1 were given the
opportunity to show their potential, whether it was in the academic or
vocational. It was to be decided after the LCE exam, taken after they
completed Form 3. At Form 4, they were either put in Art, Science or
Vocational streams. Later, they added a commercial stream as well.
Anyway, this system of education, with some modifications here and
there, remains today. The main thing is that I was somehow involved in
many of the changes as a teacher. When the government wanted to
implement the secondary continuation school system, in order to retain 12-
year-old children in schools when they failed to get admission into the
normal secondary schools, more teachers were needed, and quickly. In
order to get this, a new system of training the teachers was created. School
certificate holders, especially those who had just left school. And wished to
become teachers, were recruited and posted to secondary continuation
schools as teacher trainees. They taught under the supervision of the
headmaster and attended lectures at weekends.
This training system was further improved after they abolished the
Standard Six exam. The training was known as the RTC (Regional Training
Centre). The centres were established in major towns and the trainees went
to the nearest one at weekends. The trainees were mostly those who were
specially trained at the MTC Kirkby, where I, too, was trained. The nearest
centre for the trainees assigned to my school in Kemaman, was in Kuantan.
There were eight of them in my school (SMK) then.
Other than the weekend training, they also spent a major part of the
school holidays in the teachers’ training colleges. They went to the college
chosen for them according to their choice of subjects they wanted to
specialize in. After two years, they sat for a special exam set for them. If
they passed, they became qualified teachers. Many of them later went to the
university and became graduate teachers.
This training scheme was later stopped as they increased the intake
into the training colleges. Under the RTC training programme, the trainees
who were placed in schools had only to teach about ten to fifteen periods a
week, as they were required to study and observe qualified teachers
teaching. But they were also expected to perform other duties like other

teachers. These included doing co-curricular work and weekly duties as duty
teachers.
As I mentioned earlier, I had eight trainees in my school. As they
taught only about half the time as compared to other teachers, eight of them
were considered only as tour teachers. In order to help them, I gave them
some guidance in the theory and practise of education by conducting some
classes, and some afternoons after school. I considered myself lucky as all
the eight trainees that I had were hardworking. Finally, all of them got
through their final exam.
188 | AHMAD HASSAN

31 July 1995
When I was informed that I was to report to a school in Kemaman,

Terengganu, on my return from the one-year course in Kirkby, I was rather
apprehensive at first. I had heard so much about the east coast in general
and Terengganu in particular. The east coast then, was known as very much
underdeveloped compared to the west coast. No one wanted to be posted
there. It was almost considered as ‘kena buang negeri’.
A few of my friends advised me to find a way, say use some influence,
not to go there. Before I could do that, your Tok (Dr Mohd Said), one day
during lunch, said it was good to go to such places while you were young.
That stopped me from even thinking of asking him to help me get out of
the east coast posting. Instead, we (Mi and I), made up our minds to go
there.
So, one beautiful morning, we loaded our car (it was a Borgward
caravan) with our things, right to the roof of the car, and you (Az), who was
about 2 years 3 months old, an Indian girl, who was your nanny, Mi and I
drove off towards a place that we had never been before. With the help of
the road map, I drove the car first to KL (oh yes, we started from Tok’s
house in Seremban – the MB’s Residence) and then to Kuantan. This was
my first time driving beyond KL, especially towards the east coast. After
KL, every inch of the road was new to me. It was really an adventure!

1 August 1995
We experienced our first ferry ride across the river at Temerloh. Nervously,
I drove the car onto the ferry for it was my first experience. The ferry could
take five or six vehicles at a time and was pulled by a motorboat. Then there
was another one at Kuantan, just before entering the town. After a short
stop at Kuantan, we proceeded to Kemaman about 40 miles north of it.
The drive towards Kemaman was interesting as it was mainly along
the coast which was really beautiful. Some of the kampongs along the way
reminded me of some of the kampongs that I used to grow up in. As we
drove further north, the road became bad. It was a laterite road, very dusty
when dry and muddy when it rained. It was also full of potholes.
Anyway, after almost two hours of driving, partly due to admiring
the beautiful view and also the bad road condition, we finally reached
Kemaman. Yes, we saw the town but it was on the other side of the river.
We had to cross the river on a ferry. The crossing took about ten to fifteen
minutes. The ferry landing on the town side was the town centre which
consisted of the market and rows of shophouses. Not far from it was the
Government Rest House where we spent the night.
We knew no one in Kemaman then, but it didn’t bother us much as
we were too tired from the long drive. What I needed was sleep.
190 | AHMAD HASSAN

2 August 1995
CUKAI
I never knew that the town of Kemaman was called Cukai until sometime
later. The town of Cukai was then a small one consisting of mostly wooden
shophouses. The entry point into Kemaman (Cukai), for that matter into
Terengganu from the south was by crossing the river by ferry. As you
disembark from the ferry, you see right in front of you a row of two-storey
shophouses which were about the better buildings in town.
The main road ran right in front of the row of shophouses. On the
left, as you stood in front of the shophouses was the market and right
opposite the market was another row of shophouses. But this row consisted
of wooden single-storey shops. To the right, the road turned almost right-
angled to the left and it led you to Kuala Terengganu and further north to
Kota Bharu. Along this road, firstly on its left were some wooden
shophouses, and further on there were many more wooden shophouses.
This time, on both sides. Then it came to a junction, which again was a right
angle, but this time to the right. At this junction, the main government
building, which was the District Office, was situated. On both sides of this
road, were houses of the main population of Cukai.
This kampong is called Kampong Besut. The school that I was
supposed to report to was at the end of this kampong. I think we stayed at
the Rest House for a couple of nights. Then we moved into the school
quarters allocated to us. The small single-storey brick house was in the
school compound, with a few other houses belonging to the school close
by. Next to our house was a bachelor’s quarters and further up about 200
yards away, was the headmaster’s house. In front of the house was the

school padang and across it was the school. To the left of the house was the
main road that led to Kuala Terengganu.
I mentioned earlier that the school was situated at the edge of the
village, well, almost, as there were a few other buildings beyond the school.
A bit further up was a river where there was another ferry used to cross it.
So, Cukai town was confined within two rivers each with a ferry crossing.
At that time, to reach Kuala Terengganu from Kemaman, one had to go
through no less than five ferry crossings. By the time we left Kemaman,
after five very interesting years, there was not a single ferry left. They were
all replaced by very good bridges. Another significant thing about
Kemaman at that time was it had no piped water system.
192 | AHMAD HASSAN

4 August 1995
THE WATER TOWER
I said significant because there was no proper piped water supply. The
whole town had to depend on well water. In the compound of our house,
there was this water well with a big water tank towering above it. At the
foot of the water tower, next to the well, was an electric motor that pumped
the well water into the tank about 20 feet high. From this tank, the water
flowed into the tanks in the various houses including ours.
It was this water that we used for cooking and washing. It came out
of taps just like the ordinary water taps that we see in modern houses today.
BUT, it’s a big but, the water was dirty! It was brownish in colour and
sometimes muddy. Because of this, the water had to be filtered to make it
consumable. From Maurice Chye, the headmaster of the school where I was
teaching, I learnt how to make a water filter. Maurice, who had been there
much longer became an ‘expert’ in not only filtering water but also repairing
the water pump should it give any trouble. In fact, he could remedy any
problems that we encountered with the water supply. When the water was
not flowing up into the tank, he would take a piece of wood and bang onto
the pipe several times. It worked every time!

5 August 1995
THE BOOKCASE
Maurice was also good at carpentry. He made most of his furniture in the
house himself. He had a kind of workshop at the back of his house
complete with tools and all. He taught me how to use some of the tools.
Then, one day, while Maurice and his family went on a holiday
leaving his house for me to look after, I made full use of his workshop. I
made myself a kind of bookcase that could also be used as a place to put
my radio on. The radio, a Blaupunkt, was quite a huge one, almost 2 feet
wide, 1½ feet tall and a foot deep. Though it wasn’t the best of bookcases
one could find, it was good enough to be put in our small living room. This
wasn’t really my first effort in carpentry.
Remember, I mentioned earlier somewhere that I made my own
table and chairs when I was younger and even helped to build a house! I
was really quite creative during my first two years in Kemaman. I painted,
made wood carvings and dyed fabrics. This must be because I had plenty
of free time. I taught in the afternoon and I couldn’t go anywhere in the
morning. Other than taking care of you, Az, I had the mornings to do
anything I liked. Mi taught in the morning.
194 | AHMAD HASSAN

6 August 1995
I am 61 today. It was on this day 50 years ago that the first atomic bomb
was dropped on Hiroshima, Japan. The effect of this bomb was so
devastating that today every country in the world except the so-called
superpowers, is crying for the ban on nuclear powers.
War, in any form, is bad for humans. I have gone through one and I
know how difficult life was through a war. Now, we hear of wars going on
in some parts of the world. The news is never complete if it doesn’t mention
wars somewhere in the world. The picture that one gets of wars was always
of misery and destruction. Wars bring humans to the level of animals.
Killing means nothing.
Why? Why do humans become so inhuman? Perhaps, it’s because
man is so weak. He needs to be assured that he is strong by showing off his
might through the weapons that he creates. The bigger the weapon, the
stronger he feels. Doesn’t that prove that he is weak? Until he realises that
the weakness in him can be defended not by weapons but by reason, man
will go on waging war against one another. The big question is: What is the
UN doing?

7 August 1995
Early this morning, I flew to Kuantan with my boss and three other
colleagues. We were there to see some educational facilities of the
organisation which wanted to tie up with us in setting up a secondary school
and also to attend a meeting. It was only a day trip.
The last time I was in Kuantan was about 3 or 4 years ago. How
Kuantan has changed since then. There are now so many buildings and
roads that it took me quite a while to get my bearing. I also had a quick look
at the school where I was the Headmaster. That, too, had changed
somewhat.
I still remember when we were in Kemaman, Kuantan was the
nearest decent town. We used to go there almost every weekend, especially
when Uncle Farid and Aunty Nah were staying there. Besides going there
to do some shopping, we also went there to get a decent bath! Yes, Kuantan,
compared to Kemaman then, was civilization. The distance was about 40
miles but because parts of the road were so bad, the drive took us quite a
while. Of course, there was the ferry at Kemaman. If you were unlucky, you
had to queue up for the ferry which might take you an hour or more. But
this did not deter us from travelling along the coast road right up to Kuala
Terengganu, ferry or no ferry.
196 | AHMAD HASSAN

8 August 1995
Several days ago some teachers asked me when my birthday was. They knew
that it was in August but they didn’t know on what day. I told them that it
was on the day the Americans dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima.
They said they didn’t know and I told them to look it up. This morning,
one of them, Pn Haslina, told me that she checked and it was on August 6.
And I said yes, that’s my birthday. She went on asking me whether I realised
at that time that the bomb was dropped. I said not on that day itself, but
many days later when I heard people talking about the “Atomic Bomb”.
And when later I was told that the Japanese had surrendered and that the
war was over, only then I realised the significance of the bomb. I think I
was in Endau on that day, and never even realized that it was my birthday.
The truth is, I never knew my birthday until I went to English school
in Johor Bahru. My father had to apply for my birth certificate extract for
my school admission. You see, the strange thing was, that when they
checked the register of birth, they found that my birth was reported but no
name was given to the baby. Only a few days later that they decided to name
me Ahmad. Because of that, until today my birth certificate had no name!
And, in order to certify that it was really me that the certificate is talking
about, my father had to make a Statutory Declaration in front of a
Commission of Oaths to explain the absence of a name in the certificate. I
could have inserted the name officially by applying to the Registration
Department but now, after so long, I feel that it should be as it is, as it has
its own story to tell. Another reason is that I am afraid I may have to
surrender the SD which has a very valuable postage stamp on it, a 1948
issue, with King George V picture.
Another interesting episode about my birthday was that, when I was
in Bukit Zahrah School, for some time my birthday was recorded as 6.6.35.

Of course, it was a mistake. It was somebody else’s birthday which was
wrongly recorded as mine. I didn’t know about it until when I was about to
leave the school, and upon checking my particulars in the huge school
register and comparing it with my birth certificate that the mistake was
discovered and duly corrected. Otherwise, my age today would be one year
younger. I know of many people of my age whose birth dates are rather
questionable, as many records were lost during the war.
198 | AHMAD HASSAN

10 August 1995
Today, I want to talk about the time when I was staying with Wak Yeb.
Mohd Taib bin Ibrahim is his name and he was our teacher – a very good
teacher but a strict one. I was never in his class but was taught by him a few
times when he came to my class as a relief teacher. I was really scared of
him then as everybody said that he was very strict and stood no nonsense.
I believed that, as I never saw him smiling. Then, when I joined the Sea
Scout, which was under his charge, only then I learnt the truth about him.
He was not at all what people said he was. He was the kindest and
jovial person that I had come across. He was then a bachelor and when I
was about to go to Form 5, Wak Yeb got this government quarters – No.
1107, Jalan Nong Chik, JB. As he was staying alone, he asked me if I would
like to stay with him. He also asked Karim and Yem to make a foursome.
So the four of us, Wak Yeb, Karim, Yem and I stayed in this, which later
became a very popular place for students to congregate. Yes, almost every
day, there would be a number of us, including Wak Yeb’s former students
who were studying at the university, gathering at the house, playing games
or just chitchatting. One of the past times was listening to music. Nat King
Cole was the favourite.

11 August 1995
The two-bedroom semi-detached house that was 1107, Jalan Nong Chik,
was a popular gathering place for the young people who looked up to Wak
Yeb for leadership. Almost every evening, they would gather here for some
fun and games and sometimes serious talk. Here, Wak Yeb shed off his
serious image and became one of us. Among the regulars who frequented
the house were Salleh Mohd (Engeh), Othman Dahwan, Dollah Ismail,
Karim Sharif, Dollah Esa, Tahir Rahim, Rahman Hamidon and many
others. Girls, too, used to join us whenever we held parties there. Not all
parties were held there. They were held usually around Hari Raya time and
we used to move from house to house.
Wak Yeb was active in the teachers’ union. The union used to hold
dances for the purpose of collecting funds. The most popular venue for
such a function was the Bukit Zahrah school hall. Whenever there was such
a function, we, the Sea Scouts, were asked to help around acting as waiters
and bartenders and so on. It was during such functions that I was
introduced to dances (ballroom) and drinks (beer). Then we started to learn
to dance. Some of the senior ones among us already knew how to dance
and they taught us. We used to have lessons in the same hall. Sometimes,
we looked so funny ‘pushing’ our partners around trying to keep to the
music, now and again, stepping on each other’s toes, that we couldn’t help
laughing at ourselves. We later referred to this as ‘sorong gerobok’.
Thanks to this sorong gerobok sessions, when I went to college in
England, I was among the few Malays who could do ballroom dancing.
Among our group were two teachers, one of them who taught me in
primary school was Mr Yunus and the other, Encik Ali, had just returned
from Kirkby. Of the two, Encik Ali was a more regular visitor to No. 1107.
He had a car, a brand-new Hillman Minx, which he had just bought.
200 | AHMAD HASSAN

Sometimes, we all would get into his car and went for a drive, mostly to
town to have some makan.
Talking about makan, we mostly cooked our own food by taking
turns in the kitchen. Of the four of us, Karim was the best cook. As for
Yem and me, we did better at washing up. Most of the time, Yem’s mother
would send some lauk for us in a tiffin carrier. Yem’s house was just about
200 yards away and he would just go over to the house and bring back the
tiffin carrier. Yem’s father, Pak Taib, had a car, which Yem sometimes
borrowed to enable us to go to Singapore mostly. Wak Yeb would drive the
car, as Yem, though could drive, did not have a license.
I remember once, it was a few days after Hari Raya, when Wak Yeb
came home one evening in a borrowed car. Wak Yeb asked us to go for a
drive in the car. We, Karim, Yem, there was somebody else whom I can’t
remember, and I were in sarong and baju Melayu or pyjama tops at that time.
So we told Wak Yeb we wanted to change first to which Wak Yeb said there
was no need to do so as we were only going round the neighbourhood.
Without thinking much, we all jumped into the car. I was wearing a pair of
trompah (clogs) besides my kain pelikat and baju Melayu. Yem, I think was
barefoot. Wak Yeb and the other person were properly attired. From the
house, Wak Yeb drove the car around the kampong nearby and then he said,
“Let’s go to town and buy some goreng pisang.” We all said yes, so long as we
didn’t have to go down to buy it. At the goreng pisang stall, one of us who
was properly dressed, got down to buy the goreng pisang.
You see, in those days, we were very particular about our dress. To
be seen dressed only in sarong and baju for men, was unthinkable. Nowadays,
I notice that people go about freely wearing anything they like, some almost
the bare minimum. So, can you imagine the shock that we got when
suddenly Wak Yeb said, “Let’s go to Singapore!” To Singapore, in sarong,
baju and trompah or barefoot? To me, Yem and Karim who were dressed in
our home attire, it was a most embarrassing moment. We protested but to
no avail. Wak Yeb said if we didn’t want to go to Singapore, we could take
a bus home. Imagine that! So, reluctantly, we followed him to Singapore. At
that time, going to Singapore was just like going to town. There was an
immigration check or any restriction at all, except, on the way home, on the
Johor side, we had to go through a customs check. So, to Singapore we
went. The three of us, Yem, Karim and I were very quiet. Wak Yeb and
the other chap who was like Wak Yeb, properly attired, were in high spirit

and made jokes about us. Wak Yeb drove straight to Happy World, the
most popular amusement park at that time. He parked the car and said,
“Let’s go inside!” What! The way we were dressed? No way, so the three of
us stayed in the car, while Wak Yeb and the other chap went into the park.
I don’t know whether they really went inside, for after a few moments, they
came back. Then we drove home. On the way, we all had a good laugh.
Anyway, there were a few other jokes like that, that we played on
each other. My lifestyle somehow changed somewhat since I lived here. I
became more aware of the sophistication of life. Maybe it was because I was
more exposed through mixing with people of better living standards like
the family of Datuk Wan Idris, who later became the Menteri Besar of
Johor. Datuk Wan Idris was related to Wak Yeb and we got to be invited
to his house a lot, especially whenever the Datuk had a function in his
house. We went there not so much as guests but more to help around. It
was here that we began to learn the proper way of setting the table for
formal dinners and what table manners meant. Datuk Wan Idris and the
Datin, his wife, whom we called Mak Uteh, had several daughters and only
one son, Want Othman, whom we called Wan Aziz. Wan Aziz used to come
to our house very often. Wak Yeb was very fond of pulling Wan Aziz’s leg,
for Wan Aziz somehow was rather simple and an easy victim. We, too, used
to play practical jokes on him. Of the daughters, the youngest was Wan
Mariamah. She and Yem were pretty close at one time. Wan Mariamah sang
very well. She used to sing with a band in Singapore. It was while
accompanying her there that I got introduced to the band and began singing
with it. Life at 1107 was quite fun.
On school days, the three of us, Karim, Yem and me would walk to
school about a kilometre and a half from the house. Before that, we had our
breakfast, which we took turns to prepare every morning. Wak Yeb would
take a bus to work. He was still teaching in Bukit Zahrah school which was
about 8 or 9 kilometres away. When we came home from school our lunch
would come from Yem’s mother’s house. One of Yem’s brothers would
send it. For dinner, we cooked our own or sometimes went out to eat
something at the stalls in town. In the afternoon, more often than not, we
had visitors. They were mostly members of the Sea Scout troop or other
school friends. There was always something to do and now I’m wondering
where I found the time to study for my exam. Remember, I was then in
School Certificate Class, or Standard Nine (Form 5) and the most important
202 | AHMAD HASSAN

exam, the Cambridge School Certificate, was staring me in the face.
Anyway, I wasn’t really worried about the exam. When it came, I just did
what I could and the results showed clearly that I was very stupid not to
prepare for the exam!

17 August 1995
Fridays were our washing days. Wak Yeb bought this washing machine
which was a great help to our washing. Compared to today’s washing
machine, it was quite a primitive one. Although it ran on electricity, it could
not heat the water and instead of a spin drier, we had to roll the wet clothes
through a roller that was cranked by hand.
So, on washing days, we had to get up early to boil some water to be
fed into the machine before we operated it. We used a big kerosene tin to
boil the water. When the water was hot enough, we poured it into the
machine. I can’t remember where the soap (was it a soap solution?) was put
but we put our dirty clothes in the machine. It was then tightly closed and
the motor switched on. After about 10 – 15 minutes, we took out the wet
clothes and wrung out the water with a hand-driven roller. We then loaded
the machine with another load of dirty clothes and repeated the process.
After about three loads of dirty clothes, we emptied the machine of hot
water and filled it with cold water to rinse the washed clothes. After the
rinse and the water wrung out, the clothes were then hung to dry.
204 | AHMAD HASSAN

18 August 1995
Yem and I, who shared a room, also shared many things in common. One
of them was admiring modern houses. Whenever we were free, we would
go looking at newly built houses which normally were about half-done, we
would pass comments on the good and the bad aspects of the houses.
Looking at houses in the process of being built became some sort of a
hobby for us. Whenever we knew of a house being built in the vicinity, we
would visit it.
We also liked to look at the Esquire magazines which Wak Yeb
subscribed. What interested us most were the men’s clothes and their latest
styles. I remember learning how to knot a tie according to the various styles,
one of which was the Windsor. When I was chosen to go to England, I was
given some money to buy some clothes for the new country that I was going
to. My knowledge of the Western clothes that I acquired from the
magazines helped me a lot in my selection of clothes. As we were quite close
to Singapore, it was most convenient for us to do our shopping there. It
was not only cheaper but above all, fashion-wise it had the latest of styles.
This was evident when compared to the clothes worn by students from
other states.

19 August 1995
A few days ago, I saw on TV, a programme about monkeys, specially trained
to pluck coconuts. When I saw it, my memory was brought back to the time
when I was small in my kampong, Mersing. Coconut-plucking monkeys were
quite common on the East Coast. They were used to climb up the tall
coconut trees and pick the ripe coconuts. These monkeys were specially
trained and listened only to the handlers who trained them. The monkey,
which the Malays call ‘berok’, is the bigger type and very strong. It is also
rather fierce. It has strong, sharp teeth with fangs at the back of them. If
not properly handled, the monkey can be a danger to people, especially kids.
When not climbing coconut trees, the monkey would be chained to
a pole with a monkey house on top of it. The monkey could climb up and
down the post and moved on the ground only as far as the chain would
allow it to go. We, children, would look at the monkey from some distance,
and the braver ones among us would go nearer to offer it bananas and
groundnuts. The monkey would always behave aggressively, rushing in our
direction and baring its fangs menacingly at us.
There were some cases of children and adults too, who were attacked
by these monkeys. We were always told not to go near them. I used to see
this particular man in our kampong who was a coconut-picking monkey
handler whose house was not very far from ours. His monkey was a big one
and he called it “Salleh” or “Leh”. I don’t know why the monkey was given
that name but I remember hearing people referring to the monkey as
“Salleh”. Could this be the origin of the name “Mat Salleh” given to the
white man, on account that the Australian soldiers stationed here those days
were very fond of eating coconuts (the old ripe ones, not the young ones
eaten raw by the locals)? You see, to us, seeing people eating old coconut
was very strange. The only other being eating coconut like that was the
206 | AHMAD HASSAN

monkey. So I deduce that since monkeys liked to eat raw coconut and
monkeys were referred to as “Salleh” and white soldiers liked to eat raw
coconut just like the monkeys, they were therefore called “Mat Salleh”! well,
anyway, that was what I used to hear the elders in my kampong referred to
the Australian soldiers when they came to the kampong.

21 August 1995
Talking about the Australian soldiers, there were many of them stationed in
Mersing, especially just before the war. We saw many of them walking
around the kampong and the thing that made them very conspicuous was
that they walked about without any shirt on. They just wore their army
shorts, army boots with the long stockings and their big brim hat with the
one side of the brim flapped up. Their bare bodies looked like cooked
lobsters, being exposed to the sun.
Just before the war, we saw many of the soldiers busying themselves
preparing for the war. All over the kampong, they strung barbed wires, not
like a fence but rolled like a spiral stretched all over the place, even under
our house. I think the idea was to cause a hazard to advancing enemies. I
was told later, that they also planted bombs everywhere, especially on the
beaches. I still remember many of the kampong people accidentally stepped
on the bomb and got killed. This happened after the Japanese had
conquered Malaya. I, myself, nearly lost my life when I almost stepped on a
bomb. Had it not been for this guy, I forgot who he was, who pulled me
back in time, I and most probably that guy too, would have been blown to
pieces!
We also saw many leftover weapons and machines of the war when
we came back to Mersing after the defeat of the British by the Japanese.
There were guns, bullets, helmets and even motorcycles left behind by the
British soldiers. One day, to our horror, we saw a skeleton of a soldier, still
dressed in the British army uniform, in a trench. We ran away when we saw
it and told the elders. I don’t know what happened after that.
Stories like that were common then and we were also told of these
places where the soldiers died were haunted. I was told that people heard
voices and sounds of people shouting and crying as if they were in battle. I,
208 | AHMAD HASSAN

myself, never heard it but I could imagine the sound when I looked at old
war trenches.
One day, I heard some boys talking about an aeroplane wreck found
on the beach not far away from the kampong. We decided to go and see.
About half of the plane was buried in the sand. It was a fighter plane. Of
course, I don’t know what type it was then. It was a British plane, according
to the markings. The cockpit was still intact. So we boys had fun sitting in
the pilot seat. The tyres of the wheels were torn exposing the inner tubes.
To us, this was a great find. The inner tubes made good elastic bands for
our slings (lastik).

23 August 1995
My dear Az and Man, I’m writing this while in Chalet No. 1150 at Burau
Bay Resort, Langkawi. Mi and I arrived here this morning and will be here
until Saturday morning. The resort is quite big with chalets built all around
the bay which has a very nice beach. At the moment, there are quite a
number of tourists, mainly Mat Sallehs and Japanese. From what I can see,
there’s nothing much one (especially old ones) can do here except to laze
around. For those who like the sea and sun, of course, this is just the place.
The government, especially Mahathir, is trying to make Langkawi
develop into something well-known internationally. LIMA, an expo of
aircraft here is being internationally projected, and many countries are now
participating in the show. You can see the effort of developing the island
going on busily. New hotels, shops and other structures like roads and
bridges are being built. It is hoped that the island will become a major tourist
destination. Already, it is full of holiday resorts. And the duty-free stature
of the island is, of course, a great pull!
210 | AHMAD HASSAN

24 August 1995
This is the second day of our stay in Langkawi. This morning, we were taken
on a tour of some of the local tourist attractions, such as the tomb of
Mahsuri, and the Black Sand Beach, which we visited when we were here
years ago, remember? The Mahsuri tomb is now very much improved to
attract tourists. It is now fenced up with concrete and within a fenced up
area, marble floor is laid and visitors have to take off their shoes to go in.
Just outside the wall, a wooden house, supposed to be that of Mahsuri’s is
built and itself is a tourist attraction. All around the area are shops selling
souvenirs and food and drinks. All these shops are making a roaring
business. This morning when we were there, there was a gendang group
playing some gendang music. To me, it sounded like silat music.
The half-day tour was part of the package of our visit here. The last
stop was the duty-free shop at the town of Kuah, before the bus was to take
us back to the hotel. But we decided to be left in town and to go back on
our own. So we went mainly window-shopping. Then, after a quick lunch
at one of the food stalls, we took a taxi back to the hotel.

25 August 1995
Today, the third day of our stay in Langkawi, we spent the morning lazing
around the chalet. I spent some time on the beach which is just a few metres
from the chalet. Then, I took a walk on the white sand where the feel of the
smooth sand on my bare feet was just wonderful, bringing me back to the
days of my childhood. With the water lapping up and down the beach, I
just stood there in the water, enjoying its movement, moving the sand
beneath my feet whenever the water receded into the sea again.
When I was small, I used to play along the beach of Mersing.
Although the beach here is not as wide as that of Mersing, it nevertheless
gives the same kind of feeling that I used to get whenever I went to the
beach. Today, after almost 50 years or so, I experienced again the feeling of
hot sand on my bare feet. I was walking on a patch of loose fine sand and
the sun was beating down strong on the sand, and I had to move very
quickly as the sand was really hot. I remember, in Mersing, I had to walk on
this kind of hot sand, and it was much wider in area.
212 | AHMAD HASSAN

26 August 1995
About an hour or so after our arrival home from Langkawi, we received a

call saying that Mak Teh Mon (Auntie Bok Chik’s mother) had passed away
in Seremban. Tired though we were, we went to Seremban, hitching a ride
in Auntie Salmah’s car. While in the car, Uncle Shap, as usual, would talk
about the various types of trees that we saw growing along the road. He
would name the trees and describe the species and he is very knowledgeable
about them. Then, he went on to talk about birds, another area that he is
knowledgeable about. In fact, Uncle Shap is knowledgeable about all things
Nature. Aunty Salmah, who had just returned from Pulau Perhentian in
Terengganu, mentioned a bird that she saw swooping down the sea and
flying off with a fish. After listening to Aunty Salmah’s description of the
bird and how it caught the fish, Uncle Shap named the bird.
Then I, not to be left out in the topic discussed, mentioned the bird
that I had when I was a boy in Mersing during the war. I said the bird, which
the locals called ‘burung puchong’ was like a stork; long thin legs and a long
sharp beak and black. Uncle Shap didn’t name the bird and Mi said she’d
never heard of burung puchong. I told this story in the earlier part of this
writing.

27 August 1995
One interesting part about Mak Teh Mon’s funeral yesterday: I was asked
to say a few words, as it is customary before the body was taken away from
the house for burial. I had never done this before but I had seen it done a
few times. As it was my first time, I was rather nervous. I was afraid that I
might say the wrong thing. So far, I have experienced ‘meminang’ – asking
for the hand of a girl in marriage, on behalf of a boy – a few times. MC-ing
various functions including weddings, giving hundreds of speeches and so
on but yesterday was different. The occasion was solemn and you can’t
afford to say the wrong thing. Somehow, I managed all right and Uncle
Mahmud, Aunty Bok Chik’s husband, who asked me to handle the job, was
quite pleased.
What did I say? Well, I said, on behalf of the deceased family, I
thanked all those who were present. On behalf of the deceased, I asked
everyone to forgive her for any of her misdoings while she was alive and
should there be any claims to material things by anyone alive, to see and
settle them with the living members of the family. Lastly, I asked everyone
to pray for her soul and asked God to take care of her. I felt rather sad after
that.
Death is always sad. But it is the ultimate thing for everyone.
214 | AHMAD HASSAN

28 August 1995
Aunty Salmah who, as I mentioned earlier, had just returned from Pulau
Perhentian, Terengganu, was telling us, while driving to Seremban last
Saturday, about how clear the water was around the island. According to
her, one could easily see the coral and the fish that swam at the bottom of
the sea. I didn’t dispute what she was saying for I had seen this with my
own eyes when I was small.
It was not in Pulau Perhentian but in Pulau Pemanggil, near Tioman
Island. My adoptive father, Ayah Awang, had some jobs to do around the
island. He was taking some people to make a kelong there. As it was during
the school holidays, I followed him. We stayed there, on board the boat for
a few days. The thing that I remember well about the island was that the
water around it was so clear that you could see the sea floor from the boat.
One day, while swimming there, I tried to reach the floor but hardly
had I reached halfway, I had to come up again. It was so deep but from
above it didn’t seem so. Another unforgettable thing about the place was
the sand flies. In the evening, they came in thousands, biting you, and
making your life miserable. To chase them away, we had to burn coconut
husks which produced a lot of smoke. The smoke chased the unwelcome
flies away but left us in tears!

29 August 1995
Some of the best experiences that I had during my working life were those
of the time we were in Sabah. As you remember, Mi, Man and I left for
Sabah leaving you, Az, behind as you were then in Form 3, in September
1974. I went there as the Vice-Principal of Gaya Teachers’ College in Kota
Kinabalu.
My first impression of Sabah was that I thought I was in a foreign
land, not in Malaysia. There were still plenty of colonial marks left behind,
especially in the buildings and rules and regulations. Even the shophouses
looked different. The most noticeable part about the shophouses was the
absence of an open drain in front of it and the pavement or the “kaki lima”
had no pillars.
Of course, the way the people talked also attracted my ears and soon,
I myself, picked up the lingo. We were put in a hotel in Kota Kinabalu called
Winner Hotel, on our arrival and we stayed there for two nights. We were
told and soon found out ourselves, that things were much more expensive
in Sabah compared to West Malaysia.
We then moved to a quarter in the college compound. It was a very
nice house, raised quite high off the ground. It had three bedrooms with a
fairly large sitting room, adjoining a verandah. I like the house very much.
Even today, I still think of it as one of the best houses that I’ve lived in.
216 | AHMAD HASSAN

30 August 1995
I liked my stay at the college, teaching and taking care of the students, many
of whom were from West Malaysia. At that time, in Sabah, there was still
the English medium school. So in Gaya College too, there were two
mediums of teaching, one in BM and the other in English. So I taught the
Principle of Education in BM as well as in English.
As in other teachers’ colleges, students carried out many co-
curricular activities as part of their training. There were sports and games
besides social activities, such as Hari Raya, Chinese New Year, Christmas
and Harvest Festival celebrations. Normally, at these celebrations, besides
food and drinks, dances were the major part. Ballroom dancing was still
known!
Students were housed in hostels, one for boys and one for girls. Part
of my duty was to make surprise checks on these hostels, now and then. I
was also the advisor to the Student Council, elected by the students
themselves and approved by the College administration. Leading the
council was the President.
One of the most difficult moments of my time in Gaya was when a
girl student from West Malaysia, passed away in the hospital after a short
illness. It was indeed a very sad moment and the whole college was in
mourning. With the consent of the guardians (she had no parents) in
Kelantan, we buried the girl in KK, Sabah. The funeral rites were done in
college and for several nights we had “tahlil” in the college hall.

31 August 1995
MERDEKA DAY
Where was I on this day, 38 years ago? Yes, I was still in England when
Malaya got its Independence. A delegation of Malayans led by Tunku Abdul
Rahman went to London to negotiate independence for Malaya. I don’t
remember how many trips they made but on the final one, they got the
actual date when Malaya was to be independent.
We were among the fortunate ones to know it first. You see, since
there were so many of us in England at that time, it was only right that we
were to share the good news first. So, before they left for home to tell the
people there, they came to our colleges – Tunku went to Kirkby and Tun
Razak came to Brinsford Lodge.
I remember we had a special assembly in the hall that day. Tun Razak,
I think he was Datuk Razak then, addressed the assembly and told us that
the British government agreed to hand over Malaya to Malayans on 31st
August 1957. We, especially the Malays, were so happy when we heard it.
At the end of the assembly, we put Tun Razak in a chair and carried him
around the college, chanting “Merdeka, Merdeka”.
So, today, 38 years ago, Malaya became an independent country. Did
we celebrate in England? Yes, all Malayans abroad, especially in London
celebrated on Independence Day. In London, there were various activities
carried out during the month of Independence.
There was an Art exhibition in which many Malayan students,
including me, took part. I sent in one painting together with works by other
students in my college. The selection was done by our Art lecturer. I don’t
know why he chose this particular work of mine. It was an oil painting on
a soft board 3 feet by 5 feet of a scene supposedly to be of our students’
218 | AHMAD HASSAN

common room, called the Junior Common Room, during tea time. The
picture wasn’t finished, but good enough to be displayed. I was given the
task to go to London to deliver the exhibits to Malaya Hall, where the
exhibition was to be held. I went with another student, Zakaria Jiman. I
can’t remember for how long the exhibition was held. I didn’t go and see.
When the exhibition was over, we were supposed to collect our work.
Somehow I didn’t do so. I don’t know why; maybe I didn’t think very much
of it then. Maybe it was stored somewhere in Malaya Hall. Maybe, one day,
somebody would discover it and, who knows, it may even be quite valuable!
Well, in fact, I have forgotten about it, until only when I talk about Merdeka
celebrations.

2 September 1995
Talking about Art, did I not say that I used to be quite good at it? It used to
be my best subject in Secondary School. I used to love drawing and painting.
I did a few water colours during my school days and my cousin, Long
Hassan, framed a few of them. I remember seeing them hanging on the wall
of his living room. I wonder what happened to them now. And then in
college, other than the big painting I sent to London for the Merdeka
exhibition, there were quite a few other paintings, including a self-portrait,
that I did for my coursework. There were, also, a few pottery work that I
did. All these were left behind and only God knows what happened to them
now.
My interest in art returned when I was posted to Kemaman. During
my first two years there, I had nothing much to do. I was teaching in the
afternoon and was very free in the morning. Then, one day, I was inspired
to start painting again. So, I bought some paint and using a hard board as
canvas, I painted a few scenes. There was one of the boats that I saw
moored at the Kemaman River. This I gave to Uncle Farid. He hung this in
his house in Kuantan. Then I never saw it again after that. Another that I
remember was one of two dancers – a man and a woman – doing the
ronggeng with a gong beater in the foreground. I gave this to the D.O. of
Kemaman.
220 | AHMAD HASSAN

3 September 1995
On TV this morning, I saw a programme on logging and sawmill in

Terengganu. When I saw it, I was really intrigued because of how much
progress the industry has made compared to the time when I was small,
more than 50 years ago. I remember, right in front of our house, by the
river, there was this timber yard. It wasn’t there originally, but the yard came
into existence just before the war. Every day, lorry loads of logs were piled
in front of our house. To me, they looked huge and were piled up as high
as a house. At the expense of being scolded, we used to climb up the pile
of logs when there weren’t any workers around.
On TV today, I saw the logs were hauled by machines. All the work
- cutting, hauling, sawing and so on was done by machines, whilst those that
I can remember seeing were done by men. I didn’t see them loading the
huge logs onto the lorry, because that was done in the jungle where they
chopped off the trees, but I saw how they unloaded them. They rolled off
the logs from the lorry with the help of wooden supports onto the ground.
They moved the logs to wherever they wanted them to go by pushing them
with wooden poles stuck under the logs and pushing them with their
shoulders. It took several men to move a log.
The logs which measured between 3 to 4 feet in diameter and about
20 to 30 feet long came in with their barks on. Someone would peel off the
barks first before they were shipped off in a big tongkang (Chinese junk) to
their destination. He used a kind of a hoe with long wooden pole as the
handle; would peel off the bark by inserting the hoe in between the bark
and the log and pulling the handle toward him thus prying the bark off. He
continued doing this along the length of the log and the bark came off in a
long strip about 10 to 12 inches wide. The bark was used as a cheap type of
wall for a house.

Another interesting part that I used to enjoy watching was the
loading of the logs into the junk. This huge junk, with eyes in the prow, had
two masts. Besides holding the sails, the masts were also used to hold the
cables for hauling the logs into the junk. The junk actually looked like a brig.
From each mast, a boom was attached to hold and direct the cables that
hauled up the logs. One end of the cable was attached to a kind of winch
with levers that could be pulled and pushed with the feet at the same time
to make it revolve and pull the cables. The other end of the cable was
secured to the side of the junk. The logs which were to be loaded were
pushed into the water next to the junk. Then, the cable from the boom was
slackened and brought under the floating log. When both ends of the log
were inside the slacked cables, the winches (two of them) were quickly
turned. They turned very fast and easily until they started taking the weight
of the log.
Now, maybe two or three men were needed to work each winch,
pulling with their hands and pushing with their feet simultaneously. It was
necessary that the turning of the winches be coordinated, otherwise, one
end of the log may rise faster than the other. When that happens, it could
cause some problems. For instance, the log could just slide back into the
water. When the cables were pulled taut, the log would reach the top of the
side of the junk and it would just fall into the hold of the junk with a
booming sound. I used to enjoy the sights and the sounds. Once the log
was free from the cables, the slackened cables would fall easily into the water
again, ready to haul up another log. The pulleys in which the cables passed
through, made a clucking noise as the cable ran loose. The huge junk could
hold quite a large quantity of logs. When it was full, the junk looked very
low. I was told that the logs were taken to some foreign countries.
222 | AHMAD HASSAN

6 September 1995
I don’t remember seeing any mechanised sawmill in Mersing before the war.
For local consumption, the logs were sawn into useable timber by hand.
The huge logs were sawn with hand-held saws, with saw blades stretched in
a wooden frame several feet long. First, the logs were cut into manageable
lengths. The cutting was done with a saw operated by two men each holding
the handles which were at each end of the saw. It took quite a while to cut
the logs. Then the log was cut lengthwise, first into two halves and then into
quarters and so on depending on the size of timber required.
To cut smaller and thinner timber, the men used finer sawblades
stretched on a wooden frame, like the one I mentioned earlier. This was
done by inclining the timber to be cut at an angle and sawing it while
standing on it. This was done by one person. To ensure that the timber was
properly cut, a line was drawn on it first. This was done by stretching an
inked piece of string on the timber and by snapping it; it left a straight line
better than a line drawn with a ruler. The timber was then cut along the line.
It took a few days to saw a few pieces of planks.
As far as I can remember, all these jobs were done by Chinese
workers. Maybe because they were skilled at the job.

7 September 1995
Perhaps now I should be talking a little bit more about our stay in Sabah.
We were in Sabah for almost 5½ years, two of which in Gaya College and
the rest in Kampong 14, when I was the Chief Inspector of Schools there.
It was as the Chief Inspector of Schools that I really know Sabah.
My main duty was to inspect the schools all over the state. When I
took over the job, which incidentally was from my former teacher, Mr.
P.V.C. Hannay, there were only 6 other inspectors to help me. The seven
of us were expected to travel all over Sabah to inspect the schools.
Some of the schools were situated in places so remote that it took a
few days to reach. While most schools could be reached by land, including
walking, some could only be reached by boat. These were the ones situated
on the islands off the north and east coasts of Sabah. The sea around this
part was rather dangerous, as pirates who came across from the Philippines,
were very active there.
Once, one of my inspectors, who was on his way to one of the islands
in a hired boat, was intercepted by some pirates in a high-speed boat. The
pirates ordered the inspector to strip off to his underwear and made him
jump into the sea. He did as he was ordered because he was scared. While
in the water, he hung on to the boat while one of the pirates came aboard
and ransacked the boat for anything they fancied. As he didn’t find very
many things of value, the pirate was very angry and stepped angrily on the
fingers of the inspector with his boots. Until today, the scars are still there.
The pirates then left, taking the clothes of the inspector with them. The
inspector climbed back into the boat and asked the boatman, who was all
the while shivering with fright, to take him back to the mainland. As he was
only in his underwear, he asked the boatman to land somewhere more
secluded. From there, he walked to the village and borrowed some clothes
224 | AHMAD HASSAN

from the villagers. Somehow, the villagers didn’t show much surprise. I
suppose they were quite used to such a sight. The name of the inspector
was Yusof Chin.
There were many strange and funny incidents that happened to us
when we were visiting these remote places. I remember once riding the
railcar from KK to Beaufort. The railcar could carry 15 people including
the driver. As it was my first ride in this rather strange vehicle, I was quite
excited. I said strange because the car didn’t have any steering wheel but all
the foot pedals for the brake, clutch and throttle were there, plus the gear
lever. So it was driven like a car except that the direction was controlled by
the rails. On this first trip, I sat next to the driver with another inspector
next to me on my left. So I had a good view of what was in front of the
railcar. The rails were narrow gauge, rails and ran through some villages and
jungles. In some parts, they ran through a gorge with the fast-flowing Padas
River by the side. This part was very scenic. I remember once on this railcar
when suddenly the rails just disappeared under some water as there was
heavy rain before that and the area was flooded. The driver stopped the car
and asked us whether he should drive on. We said we didn’t know and
suggested that he should go and check the tracks. The water wasn’t deep
and covered only a short distance of the tracks. So the driver went into the
water feeling for the tracks with his feet. Soon he came back and said it was
all right – the tracks were there. He then drove on. I, who sat next to the
driver was quite excited like a small boy, seeing the car driving through the
water, some of which was about a foot high. We crossed the body of water
safely. I could see that everyone was relieved.
Another interesting thing I noticed was that the railway track was
also used by the villagers as a road to walk on. Whenever they saw a train
coming, they stepped off the tracks, squatted down by the side and let the
train pass. In some parts, the place was so overgrown with trees and tall
grasses that the train virtually travelled through the trees. I noticed the
driver would carry with him in the railcar, an axe and a saw. These, I
suppose, were used in case there was a tree fallen onto the tracks.
As the driver didn’t have to steer the car, he had all the time to chit-
chat or even share whatever titbits passengers brought with them. I
remember once while the train was moving one male passenger patted the
driver on the back and said, “Berhenti, berhenti, aku mau kencing!” The driver

stopped and the passenger got down, and went into the bush to relieve
himself.
On another occasion, the railcar was approaching the station, when
there was another train standing there. As it was a single-track railway, one
of the trains had to give way by getting onto the side track near the station.
Since we were the smaller of the two vehicles (the other was a real train,
with several coaches), we had to give way. The stationmaster adjusted the
tracks so that our car was directed to the side, letting the train travel on the
main track. Then, when the train had gone, we were to get back onto the
main track by reversing onto it. Do you know what happened? The reverse
gear didn’t work! The next thing we realized was that we were asked by the
driver to get down and give the car a push. So, all the passengers got down
and together, we pushed the heavy car. This was the first experience for me
and I believe for the others too, pushing a train. When the car was on the
main track again, we all got back into the car and proceeded on our journey.
Ahmad Siraj (deceased), who was on that trip with me, never stopped
talking about the experience after that. To him, it was very strange to have
to push a train.
This train (they called the railcar train or keretapi) can be chartered.
That means the whole railcar can be hired for either one or return journey,
and no other passengers can ride on it. We used to do that quite often, i.e.
whenever we wanted to save time. When chartered, the car can travel
without following the train schedule. Besides this 15-seater, there was also
the five-seater. Do you remember we chartered one of these from Tenom
to KK? It was just like a car on rails. The best part was it could stop
anywhere on the way so long as you didn’t block the way for other trains.
Remember, Mi asked the driver to stop when she saw some villagers selling
durians by the side of the tracks? Imagine doing that to our railway trains!
226 | AHMAD HASSAN

12 September 1995
There were so many other interesting episodes of my life in Sabah. For

instance, there was a time when we had to go through roadless terrain to
reach the school. Our four-wheel drive just trudged through some
undergrowth. Whenever there were some obstacles in the way, we had to
clear them to make way for the four-wheel drive. Or we had to make make-
shift bridges or ‘titi’ over some drains for the vehicles to cross.
We were on such a trip once, when, after arriving at our destination,
we found that the school was closed. The teachers (three of them) and the
pupils were there, as well as the villagers. It looked like some celebrations
were on. We were not expected. In fact, they were expecting the arrival of
the “Yang Berhormat” who was to arrive by helicopter that day. Anyway,
since the arrival of the YB was quite a while away, we asked the teachers
and the pupils to get back to school for our inspection. They all did,
including the villagers who just made themselves at home at the
schoolhouse, which was actually the balai raya of the kampong. After the
inspection came the ceramah to the teachers. The children were dismissed.
The ceramah (briefing) was meant for the teachers, but the villagers sat in as
well, to listen. Some of them even asked irrelevant questions. They asked
about facilities promised to them by some politicians. Anyway, to make
them happy, I told them to wait for the arrival of the YB who could then
answer their questions. We finished our inspection and briefing before the
arrival of the YB. As we did not want to be in his way, we quickly departed
although we were invited to stay for the YB function, which we politely
declined. Things such as this happened quite often then. In the rural areas,
the YB often took precedence over everything, including education.
On another occasion, we were visiting another school near Ranau,
when the whole school was all excited as a helicopter roared down onto the

school field sending dust and leaves all over the compound. The children
just left their classrooms and rushed out to see the ‘copter. It turned out
that a YB was visiting a nearby village and the school playground was the
best place to land. The YB did not stop at the school but went on in a
waiting car to where he was supposed to visit. In another place, a ceramah
was going on in the school hall when we paid a surprise visit to the school.
In most cases, our visits were surprise visits. The ceramah was political in
nature but since it was conducted by the ruling party, there was nothing
much we could do.
228 | AHMAD HASSAN

14 September 1995
Four of my inspectors were conducting an inspection of schools on Banggi

Island to the north of Kudat. This island is very close to the Philippines.
This island, though only about 2 to 3 hours journey by boat, was very
underdeveloped. The people there still lived in a primitive way. During that
time, about 20 years ago, some of the natives there still wore loincloths
instead of proper clothes like other Sabahans.
Anyway, the government built a few schools on the island. The
schools were situated mostly by the seaside. There were 7 schools on the
island at that time and each had between 10 to 20 pupils with 2 or three
teachers. On this particular visit, the four inspectors, who went by the
government motorboat spent about a week three, staying on board the boat
every night as there was no rest house on the island. At one village where
the inspectors were to visit the school there, there was no jetty for the boat
to let the passengers disembark. So, the boat went as close as possible to
the land and the inspectors had to wade ashore almost chest high, holding
their briefcases above their heads. When they got ashore, they had to wait
for their clothes to dry before making their way to the school.
When they arrived at the school, they saw children running around
the school compound with no one attending to them. When the inspectors
asked for the headmaster, the children said they didn’t know where he was.
Then, a lady, carrying a baby on her hips, came from a house at the back of
the school. She said she was the wife of the headmaster. Then the inspectors
asked her where her husband was. She said her husband went to Kudat on
the mainland about three weeks ago to look for the other teachers who went
to Kudat about a week earlier. Now they both disappeared leaving the
family with very little food, especially for the baby. The inspectors took pity
on the woman and the baby and gave her their ration of rice and sugar.

Things such as these were nothing strange to the inspectors. In such
a remote place, where very few or none at all of the officials from the
Education Department visited the schools, the teachers just left the school
whenever they felt like doing so. In such a school, you can just imagine the
amount of work or the lack of it being done there. Over and above this, the
student absenteeism was very high indeed. In most cases, attendance in rural
schools in Sabah depends a lot on the village activities. For instance, during
harvesting season, attendance would be very low as the children were
needed to harvest the rice. On “tamu” (weekly open market) days, which
were held once a week, attendance was very poor. I remember once visiting
a school on a day when the tamu was held, and it was held just next to the
school. The children, and the teachers too, just popped in and out of the
school to visit the tamu.
An air tragedy, involving a MAS Fokker 50, happened yesterday in
Tawau, Sabah. Thirty-five people were killed and the news is being carried
by all the papers today. When I read it, it brought the memories of the time
when I used to fly to Tawau so many times to visit schools there. The small
airport with its wooden building was so familiar. I don’t know if that old
airport, with its wooden building, is still being used now. Maybe they have
a new airport now.
Sabah airports, at that time, except for the one in KK, were very
small and the runways were enough to cater for the Fokker Friendship
aeroplanes. In smaller places such as in Kudat and in Keningau, the planes,
usually the Cessna, landed on football fields! These small planes carried
between five to seven passengers and they, the passengers, were seated
according to their body weight. The heavier ones usually sat in front, the
lighter ones in the rear. The many times I flew in the Fokker Friendship
(not the type that crashed yesterday), gave me a lot of experience, some
funny and some frightening.
230 | AHMAD HASSAN

17 September 1995
Travelling in Sabah then, especially by air, can be quite an experience. Once

on the way back to Kota Kinabalu from Tawau, where crabs were
considerably cheap, there was a big commotion in the plane. You see, some
passengers bought crabs in Tawau to be brought to KK. The crabs, which
were alive (they always were as the dead ones were useless), were tied
together with some strings and put in the cargo hold at the back of the
plane.
While in the air, the crabs somehow got loose and started crawling
around the passenger cabin. It was not until some lady passengers shrieked
with fright, seeing the crawling creatures coming toward them that the rest
of the passengers and the cabin crew realized what was happening. The
immediate reaction of the passengers, including me, was to lift our feet off
the floor. Many were squatting on their seats. The cabin crew, with the help
of the owner of the crabs, quickly picked up the crabs (fortunately, there
were not many of them) tied them up again and put them back where they
were supposed to be.
I found out later that live crabs were not allowed in the plane after
that, unless they were carried in a box, securely tied. It must be as a result
of the incident that I witnessed on that journey from Tawau to Kota
Kinabalu.

18 September 1995
Another common cargo that I used to see on the plane was some crates of
live chicks. Those little yellow chicks were placed in some cardboard crates
with the top open and put in the cargo hold. As the hold was at the back of
the plane, separated only by a curtain from the passenger cabin, the
passengers could easily hear the cry of the chicks during the flight. In fact,
all sorts of things were carried by passengers on these domestic flights –
live chickens being the popular ones.
In spite of flying so often in all sorts of planes, I was always scared
whenever the plane passed by Mount Kinabalu. The flight was always rough
there. Once the plane pitched roughly, spilling whatever the passengers
were drinking at that time. Then, all of a sudden it dropped several feet, I
don’t know how many, but I thought it was not going to stop. The only
thing I heard above the screams of the passengers was the voice of the
steward asking us to fasten our seat belts. Then, as suddenly as it started, it
suddenly stopped and smoothly went on its flight. Everybody seemed
happy again. One way to forget the fear was to drink beer, which was free,
throughout the journey.
232 | AHMAD HASSAN

19 September 1995
I don’t know if I had mentioned this before but there are a number of things
that I became skilled in that I never really had formal lessons. In other
words, I never took lessons to learn some of the skills. For example, I never
really took lessons to learn how to drive. As far as I can remember, I have
always been interested in watching people drive cars, lorries or buses. I
would always sit in front, next to the driver so that I could watch what he
was doing. I observed everything that the driver did and memorised it. Then
I would imagine that I was driving, doing everything that a driver would do
in my mind.
One day, the opportunity came. I was then staying with Wak Yeb,
and I was in Form 5. Yem, my roommate was already driving but had no
license. I think it was on my school sports day or something. We were at
my school padang and Encik Ali Ismail, one of our close friends, a teacher,
had this new Hillman Minx. At that time, Encik Ali was busy on the padang.
His girlfriend (now his wife) Wan Azah, wanted to buy some drinks or
something. Since Encik Ali was busy, she asked if I could drive. Confidently,
I said yes. Believe it or not, I just started the car, put in the reverse gear,
reversed out the car from the car park and drove on to the shop. Then, after
having our drinks, drove back to the school padang. All the while, nobody
in the car (there were five of us) realised that I never driven before! I, myself,
was amazed at my ability.
My next driving prowess was when I was working as the field
investigator in Nyalas, Melaka. One day, Ungku Aziz, my boss, came to
spend a few days with us in Simpang Bekoh. His car was a Morris Oxford;
quite a big car. To show him around the place, I travelled in his car. I
observed him driving the car, especially the gear change. An opportunity
came for me to drive his car one day. I don’t remember how it actually

happened but I remember him asking me if I could drive and my answer
was in the positive. The next thing I realized, was I was driving this car
without any difficulty at all. Then, after that, I knew I could drive any car.
I didn’t have the chance to drive much after that. Then, when I
returned from England, I had plenty of opportunities to drive as Wak Yeb
then, had a car and he was very encouraging. One day, he had to deliver a
friend’s car, from his house to his office. Since he also wanted to bring his
car along, he asked me to drive it. Somehow, I hesitated because I had not
driven for a long time. Anyway, with some encouragement from Wak Yeb,
I agreed to do so. The car was a Fiat 1100. Before I started the car, I asked
Wak Yeb to show me the gear changes. Then, he got into the other car and
asked me to follow him. Nervously, I did. Somehow, my driving was not
smooth at all. It was jerky and erratic. Somehow, I managed to follow Wak
Yeb to his office, a distance of about a mile and a half.
After that, I decided to do more practise in driving. Wak Yeb gave
me all the encouragement. Then, my brother and I decided to buy a car of
our own. At that time (1958), one could easily get a second-hand car in
Singapore. So my brother and I went around the second-hand car dealers
in Singapore, looking at various makes and models until finally we found
one that both of us agreed upon. It was a Fiat 1100, about 2½ years old.
The price was $3,500. With a down payment of about a few hundred dollars
(can’t remember how much, exactly) I signed an agreement to pay the
balance in monthly instalments for 36 months at an interest of 10% per
annum. So, that was my first car, shared with my brother. It was blue in
colour and had a number plate SS5081. I hadn’t a driving license yet at that
time, but not long after that I went for a test and got my license without
much difficulty.
I did mention earlier about my reaction to my first car. At that time,
I was staying with my brother and his family. The house was a government
quarters. It was different from the usual government quarters. It was a
raised wooden and brick building that was formerly the quarters of workers
of a large rubber estate in Larkin. The building was renovated and made
suitable for government officers to live in. If I am not mistaken, there were
six units all together in the row of terraced houses; my brother’s being at
one end of the row. There was an empty space next to the house. I built a
shelter for the car there. The shelter was just below my bedroom window
234 | AHMAD HASSAN

and for the first few days, I couldn’t help admiring the car from the window,
even at night! Maklumlah, my first car, and never had one before.
Every Friday (Friday being an off day in Johor at that time), I spent
some time washing and cleaning the car. As my brother was a co-owner of
the car, he was also entitled to use the car. I got my license first and he got
his a few months later. Before he got his license, I used to drive him to
school every morning. His school was at 5th mile, Tampoi. After that, I went
to fetch Mi who stayed at a Lady Teachers’ Hostel.

23 September 1995
Today is your birthday, Az. You were born on this day 35 years ago. At that
time, we were living in a rented house in Larkin Housing Trust, Johor
Bahru. It was a single-storey bungalow belonging to a Malay Cikgu. I think
the rent was $80/= a month and the Cikgu never failed to appear at the end
of each month to collect the rent. Mi was sent to the hospital earlier when
she showed signs that the time had come for the baby to appear. Nek came
down to JB from Seremban a few days before that. It was on a Friday, and
Nek and I were chatting in the sitting room, waiting for the visiting time to
see Mi in the hospital. The visiting time was 1:30 pm. Then, at about 12:30
or so, Chu Lah (Dr. Abdullah), who was then the CMHO of Johor, came
to the house to report that Mi had given birth to a boy. I just jumped up
and was in my car (a Volkswagen Beetle) in no time. Nek told me to slow
down.
With Nek next to me, I drove the car as fast as I could to the hospital.
I didn’t even hear Nek who was all the time telling me to slow down. When
we arrived at the hospital, we (at least me) rushed to Mi’s room which was
on the second floor. I was so happy to see Mi all right. Then you were
brought in. I was told that you weighed about 6½ lbs. To me, you looked
so small. I held you in my arms for the first time and felt so strange holding
my own baby. It was just like a dream. I didn’t hold you for long as I was
afraid that I might hurt you. Nek was the expert and held you and talked to
you in her familiar voice.
Mi and I decided to name you Azhar after considering ‘Azlan’ and
‘Azli’ as well. Tok who arrived on the next day in his official car, and Austin
Princess, wanted to name you Mat Peral, after one of his Bugis ancestors
who came to Linggi or Boestaman, after one of the well-known political
236 | AHMAD HASSAN

freedom fighters of that time. To both, we politely disagreed. Imagine you
being called ‘Mat Peral’!
A few days later, I brought you home in our Volkswagen. Nek sat at
the back. Mi, holding you in her arms, sat next to me, as I drove. I drove so
very carefully that the car was going almost at crawling speed. Anyway, you
only stayed a few days in our house in JB as Nek and Tok thought that it
would be better if Mi and you were taken to Seremban to be properly looked
after. So, one very sad morning, Mi and you with Nek and Tok drove off
leaving me alone in the house. Anyway, I drove to Seremban every weekend
until you were brought back to JB.

25 September 1995
You know, Az, you almost became another Abang Jai! What I mean is that
Tok wanted you to be left with them in Seremban just like Abang Jai was
left there by his parents. I gave an emphatic NO to his suggestion, and when
it was time for Mi to return to work in JB, I went to Seremban to fetch her
and you without any delay. You were then just about two months old. If
you want to know how I felt at that time, you can just think of the time
when you got Soraya.
Well, our life changed a bit with your arrival. If we used to go to
Singapore almost every weekend, now the number of times was very much
reduced. In fact, we would rather stay at home playing with you. Not long
after that, we moved to the government quarters in Jalan Mustapha. The
wooden bungalow, although old, was large and very comfortable. It had a
large compound with a garage for our car. The kitchen, with a servant’s
room, was in a separate structure, adjoining the main building with a
covered passageway. If I am not mistaken, there were eight similar houses
along that road and they were all occupied by people who were in the
education service. Wak Yeb was staying just a few houses away from us.
238 | AHMAD HASSAN

26 September 1995
My dear Az and Man, I’m writing this while in Room 5152 of the Melaka
Village Paradise Resort. I came here this morning for a brainstorming
session conducted by the MBf Group of Companies. This is the first time
I have been invited to such a session. MBf conducts this kind of brain-
storming sessions very often but they are mainly for very senior staff only
i.e. Presidents of companies. This time the second and third liners too are
invited.
Today, the session started at 10:30 in the morning and went on till
almost 7:00 pm! Almost every company in the group gave a report. After
the meeting, there was a dinner by the poolside. It was a steamboat dinner.
During the dinner, there was a video show which was part of a promotion
by one of the companies. Some of the staff returned to KL after the dinner
but many of us are staying the night here. Before I came back to my room,
I stopped by the karaoke lounge where many of those who were not
returning to KL tonight were singing the night away. I only stayed a
moment and decided to return to my room where I am now.

27 September 1995
For the past few days, we have been hearing of floods occurring in many
parts of the country. One of the worst-hit was Penang Island. It was shown
on TV that right in the middle of the city, the flood water was almost waist-
high.
Seeing that brought my memory of the time when I was schooling in
Johor Bahru. I used to return to Mersing every school holiday. The
December school holidays, which were the long end-of-year holidays,
coincided with the NE Monsoon. This is the rainy season, especially on the
east coast. In Mersing, I remember the rain would fall for days sometimes
and the low-lying areas would be flooded. Kota Tinggi town was known for
being badly hit by the flood every year. One year, it was so bad that in the
town centre, the water level was reaching the roof line of the single-storey
houses.
I was in Mersing at that time, for my school holidays, and it was time
to return to JB as the school was opening soon. I could not go through
Kota Tinggi as it was heavily flooded. The alternative route was to go
through Kluang. From Mersing, we had to go to Kluang through a place
called Kahang. Kahang was also often affected by floods. From Mersing,
we boarded a bus until we reached a place near Kahang. We had to get
down from the bus there, as the bridge spanning a small river was washed
away by the flood water. We crossed the small river on foot and once on
the other side, we got onto another bus which was waiting for us.
After travelling for some miles, we had to get down again as the bus
could go no further. Right in front of us, the road just disappeared into an
expanse of water which looked like a brown sea! At first, I was wondering
how we were going to cross this water to get to the other side to proceed
with our journey. Then I saw some people bringing a few boats. We
240 | AHMAD HASSAN

boarded the boats and they were rowed by the men whom I supposed were
paid by the bus company as part of our transport. Nervously, I sat in the
fully laden boat with the side barely inches from the water. Fortunately, the
water was very calm. It was so stagnantly still that I thought it was going to
be there forever. The boat passed by sunken trees and houses which only
the roof was seen. Every now and again, I saw snakes scurrying about when
they saw the boats. After about 15 to 20 minutes of the boat ride, we
reached the other side where we saw a big crowd waiting at the water’s edge.
These people were waiting to cross the water to where we came from to
join the bus to take them part of the journey to Mersing. Here we got onto
the waiting bus and proceeded to Kluang. It was very late in the afternoon
when we arrived in Kluang. The journey from there to JB was to be on our
own. We had to find our own transport.
I was travelling alone and as a young boy, I didn’t know very much
about finding my way around a strange place. There was this man who was
travelling with his family. He must’ve noticed that I was alone and needed
help. So he asked me to follow him as he too was going to JB. First, we
went to the railway station and found that the last train had left and the next
one would be late at night and there were no more tickets. Then we went
to the bus station. Likewise, there was no bus available. The only way left
was to take a taxi which would cost us a bomb. Anyway, we had no
alternative but to take a taxi. I don’t know how much money I had but I
spent it all on the taxi fare. Now, I remember, I hardly had any food until I
reached home in JB quite late at night.
Later on, when we were staying in Kemaman, yearly floods during
the NE Monsoon became one of the hazards of staying on the East Coast.
There were a few times when our car had to go through floods on our way
home. There were several places in Pahang, especially near Temerloh, where
we had to go through floods.
One interesting aspect of these floods. Although they caused a lot of
hardship to the villagers affected, they also gave the young men and boys
of the village an opportunity to earn some extra cash. They would wait at
one end of the flooded road and offer to help motorists push the cars
through the floods for a fee. The water would be about 1 to 2 feet deep and
if you drove through it, the chances were your engine would stall and your
car would be stranded in the middle of the floods. If this happened, after
you refused the services of the enterprising boys, it would cost you double

to get them to push your car out of the predicament. So, it was wiser to
accept the services of these boys from the beginning. The procedure was,
first you switched off your engine, the exhaust pipe was plugged with some
rags to stop the water from getting into it and into the engine. Then the
boys would push your car, telling you to steer it according to their direction.
It would cost you between 5 to 10 ringgit, depending on the distance.
Normally, it was less than a hundred yards. Once you were on dry land
again, you started your engine and revved it up to get rid of any water that
could interfere with its smooth running.
My last experience with such a situation was when I was in the
Inspectorate. I was visiting some schools in Kuantan. It was during the
monsoon season. I didn’t know that there were some floods after Temerloh
town, before Kuantan. There was another inspector with me. We were
travelling in my Mazda 323. When we reached the flood area, we saw a line
of cars waiting to go through the flooded road. As usual, the kampong youths
were there to give their services. Some motorists refused to pay and took
their chances crossing the floods without help. Some managed all right but
some were stranded in the middle of the floods. In our case, we decided to
get the services of the kampong boys. We crossed the floods all right but all
the carpets in the car were damaged. I had to strip them off to dry when I
reached home in KL.
Not all floods cause misery to all people. In Kota Bharu and Kuala
Terengganu, yearly floods used to give the people cause for some form of
celebration. Young men and women would come out wearing their best and
wade around in the flood waters teasing each other. Many, in the end, found
their life partners in this way! In my young days, I heard a lot about floods
but I never had the experience of one. People talked of floods in Mersing
but I never saw one, and then there were floods in Singapore where my
adoptive mother, Mak Som, was staying and I wasn’t there. Yes, in
Singapore in those days, especially around Bukit Timah, whenever there was
heavy rain, the low-lying areas were heavily flooded. The worst affected
areas were where the very low-income group of people were staying. These
people usually stayed in temporary wooden and zinc buildings with no
electricity and water. My adoptive mother, Mak Som, was staying in such a
house. She told me once that after a big flood, all her modest belongings
were mostly destroyed by water. It took her quite a while to reacquire them.
As they say, in any disaster, it’s the poor who suffer the most.
242 | AHMAD HASSAN

3 October 1995
This morning, Mr Lim Chong Guan, my Deputy Principal, was in my office

talking about one of the teachers who was resigning from his teaching job
in school. Lim said that he saw this teacher looking upset. He was sitting in
his car as if he wasn’t aware of what was going on around him. Mr Lim said
maybe he regretted his action of putting in his letter of resignation and was
too shy to come to see him about withdrawing it. I told him that that it
could be the reason but it could be more than just that.
One of the things that can upset people is financial reasons. Many of
our young family men nowadays find it hard to make ends meet, especially
living in a city KL. But all these are due to their own doing. If only they
lived within their means they wouldn’t be in trouble. Many are in debt. The
debt would normally get bigger, instead of disappearing. One of the reasons
for many people getting into heavy debt is the abundance of hire-purchase
schemes. One is so taken up by the ease of getting whatever one wants,
especially household goods, through the HP scheme, one forgets to think
of the long-term effect the scheme has on one’s budget. There are cases
where people have to pay monthly for 5 or 6 HP schemes, starting with
houses, cars, electrical gadgets and many other things being offered in the
market. And when payments cannot be made, the articles are repossessed.
So we can safely say that the main cause of people not having enough
money is poor budgeting and living beyond their means.
I, myself, had experienced this when I was young. At that time, I
wasn’t married yet. Mi was still in England. I was earning more than $300 a
month, which was quite a big sum then. Somehow, it was never enough. I
was always in debt. I owed the bookshop where I took newspapers, books,
magazines and other personal items such as toiletries and stuff like that. I
took all these things on credit and paid only a part of what I owed and the

amount got bigger by the month. I spent my money on buying clothes and
made regular trips to Singapore. When you have friends, sometimes you
don’t care how much you spend. I also spent my money on drinks and
cigarettes. I didn’t have a single sen of savings.
Once, I was so short of money and it was needed for something
important, I almost went to borrow from a Chettiar! I was contemplating
doing this when my headmaster (my boss), En Wahid, called me to his
office to talk to me about something. While we were talking, he brought up
the topic of borrowing money. He said if you could help it, never borrow
money from anyone, least of all a Chettiar. Did he know I was thinking of
doing that very thing? Or was he just talking in general? Anyway, I took his
advice and until today I can never thank him enough for that. Later, I learnt
that he was talking through his own experience and when he died, he died
in debt when he could have been a rich man. I didn’t realise he was in
difficulty at first. Later, when I was teaching in another school, a secondary
school, I saw him there teaching as a reemployed teacher. He retired on a
pension when I was teaching in the primary school where he was the
headmaster. I was happy to see him in this new school. We became
colleagues. The sad part was that he had to earn a living. I suppose to make
ends meet. He had no car. I don’t know what happened to his beautiful car.
He must’ve sold it. So, I gave him lifts in my car to and from work every
day. I took some money from him – his share of the petrol bill. At first, I
refused to accept but I thought he would feel bad if I kept on refusing. So
for almost six months, we went to work together daily until I left for Kirkby
to attend a special course there. I didn’t meet him after that because when
I returned to Malaya after a year, I was posted to Kemaman, Terengganu.
Later I heard that he died. May God bless his soul!
Talking about the late En Wahid reminds me of his younger brother
Mr Ahmad, a teacher who was known to students for a few generations. Mr
Ahmad, whom I came to know when I was studying at English College,
Johor Bahru, was an unforgettable character. He was a very kind and
likeable man; a good teacher, who hardly raised his voice in anger. To many
of us, Malay students, he was known as our Malay teacher. He always started
his Malay lesson by asking one of the students to recite the “Al-fatihah”. Not
every one of us knew how to do it, so those who did not know would try
to avoid his eyes lest he asked them to do it. I was once asked to do it and
though I wasn’t sure how to do it properly, I managed to rush through it,
244 | AHMAD HASSAN

mumbling something which sounded like the real thing. Mr Ahmad was
also a good Mathematics teacher. I was once taught by him, geometry. It
was an exercise about proving some geometrical problem – I think it was
to prove then the two triangular figures were similar. He drew the two
figures on the board and by pointing to the related sides of the figures, using
the minimum of words, he proved that the two figures were similar.
A really strange thing happened during one of the school
examinations. Mr Ahmad was invigilating the exam. As usual, students were
seated far apart from each other to avoid copying. As the exam was
progressing, two friends who sat two seats away from each other at the back
of the class wanted to communicate or rather one of them wanted to ask
the other for help. He wrote a message on a piece of paper and waited for
Mr Ahmad, who sat at his table in front of the class to fall asleep (Mr Ahmad
was known to nod off in short sleeps while sitting at his table). Mr Ahmad
was marking some exam papers at that time. Then, suddenly his pen
stopped and his head was down, supported with one hand, meaning that he
was asleep. Our friend quickly took the opportunity to pass the message to
his friend. He folded the paper into a small, folded piece and gingerly threw
it towards his friend. Unfortunately, his aim wasn’t good. It struck the head
of the boy sitting in between them and fell on the floor, away from the
target. Both the boys froze in fear, lest what they were doing would be
discovered. They did not know what to do. Suddenly, Mr Ahmad rose from
his chair and walked straight to the piece of paper on the floor. He picked
it up and gingerly threw it to the boy who was supposed to receive it and
walked back to his chair to continue what he was doing. Everybody in the
room saw what was happening. As for our friend who received the piece of
paper, he dared not touch it. No other action was taken by Mr Ahmad. But
one thing was sure – no copying was done!
Those who knew Mr Ahmad had full respect for him, a very simple
man who spent most of his time in religion and in doing good. The reason
why he took short naps during the day, he slept very little at night, spending
it in prayers. He also lived a simple life, always wearing a white shirt and
white trousers, carrying a briefcase (like a small suitcase) which he normally
left on the low wall in the school corridor next to the library. It would
remain there the whole day until he left for home – somehow nobody dared
to touch it.

Mr Ahmad was also very philanthropic. Without the knowledge of
many people, he gave money every month to some poor students in the
school. Every year he would go through the school registers to find out who
would benefit from his help. He would then keep a list in a small book of
his. Then at the end of the month, when teachers got their pay, he would
call these boys and give them some pocket money. On a number of
occasions, I personally saw this, but I didn’t know what was going on then.
I thought he was selling something but later, after I had left school, I was
told about this wonderful kind man that was Mr Ahmad.
Until today, I can still see him in my mind’s eye, always riding an old
bicycle to and from school when other teachers of his status drove cars.
Why was he like that? It seemed that he was quite a naughty boy when he
was young. He was very smart in school. He won a scholarship to study
medicine at Hong Kong University. Then, one day during a ragging of new
students, he and a group of other senior students caused the death of a new
student. Those concerned were called by the university authority. Mr
Ahmad owned up and said he was responsible, and after an enquiry, he was
sacked from the university and his scholarship withdrawn. He came back to
Johor Bahru and later enrolled as a trainee teacher.
I don’t know when he turned seriously to religion. When I knew him,
he was already this wonderful man whose other passion, besides religion,
was cricket. Once he was telling a group of us boys, a story of his childhood.
He said he was very playful. One day, he said he was playing with a group
of his cousins and brothers in the house. It was in the living room where he
used to see his father and his friends used to sit and chit-chat while smoking
hookah – the way the Arabs do. On that day, the adults were not around.
Mr Ahmad led all the others into the room and asked them all to sit down,
pretending to be the adults. He lit the hookah and they all smoked it in turn.
They were having great fun pretending that they were some Arab
merchants. Mr Ahmad told them to speak in Arabic if they wanted to really
pretend to be Arabs. Of course, they couldn’t. Mr Ahmad solved the
problem. He told them to quote some verses from the Koran as if they were
talking in Arabic. Each time someone quoted a verse somebody else would
reply by quoting another verse. Of course, nobody understood what they
were talking about. It didn’t matter to them so long as it sounded Arabic.
They all laughed and thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
246 | AHMAD HASSAN

Mr Ahmad was known to be a man who didn’t say very much
normally. But once he started talking, there were so many humorous stories
that he could tell. Once he asked us how often we went to the cinema. Many
of us said about once or twice a week but in my case, I could only afford
once or twice a month. To this, Mr Ahmad said when he was a boy he went
almost daily! At the same time, he also read a lot.
I mentioned earlier that Mr Ahmad’s other passion was cricket. He
played with the local team and in the school he was the teacher in charge of
cricket. He trained our school cricket team and led it to many victories. If
you look at him, he doesn’t give you the impression of a person who cares
much for sports. Instead of walking, he shuffled his feet and sometimes he
looked like he was going to fall.
Besides always wearing a white shirt and white trousers, he also wore
sandals. It seemed one day, his wife threw the sandals into the rubbish bin
as they were so worn out and didn’t look fit to wear. But Mr Ahmad went
to the bin and picked them up again and continued wearing them to school.

13 October 1995
For the first time since I started writing in this book, I did not write last
night (12.10.95) as I was too tired after coming home from the concert
performed by my primary school children. The concert, which was held at
Dewan San Choon, Wisma MCA, Jalan Ampang, KL, was a great success.
The children who had been practising for the past two months under their
teachers, performed extremely well that those who were present at the
concert were greatly entertained and were full of praise for our effort. I,
myself, was so happy with it that I couldn’t sleep well last night thinking
about it.
Indeed, I’ve not been sleeping well for the past few nights worrying
about the concert – because this was the first time we were putting up a
concert of such magnitude where almost the entire primary section of the
school population of more than 500 took part. I’m not only the principal of
the school but also the producer of the concert. This was also the first time
we put up a show outside of the school, in a public hall. My main worry was
due to the lack of time to practice in the hall where we were to perform. We
only had one chance to rehearse in this hall. The rest of the rehearsals were
done in the school where the place was so much smaller.
Anyway, as I was hoping it would happen, the children did rise to the
occasion and performed beyond expectation. It must be the beautiful
costumes, the beautiful backdrops done by the teachers, and the response
of the audience which consisted mostly of their parents, which made them
perform their best. During the show, the audience was visibly enthralled by
the show and there was no shortage of applause throughout the show. The
backdrops, designed and constructed by Cikgu Badrul assisted by a group
of men teachers, were obviously the main attraction. Whatever flaws there
248 | AHMAD HASSAN

were in the children’s performance were hidden by the beautiful costumes
designed and, some were sewn by the lady teachers.
Not to be outdone by the teachers, I, too wanted to leave an
important mark in the production – the theme song was composed by me!
They all said that the music was beautiful, like the rest of the concert. I hope
they are not just being nice as I am their boss. I must explain how I came
to come out with this music. I actually composed it about 33 years ago, for
a play we put up while studying in Kirkby in 1962. The play was a historical
play called “Laila Sari” written by another student, Aziz Wok, who also
wrote the lyrics of the song. I not only composed the music but also sang it
as an introduction to the play. Then, after that, the song was never sung
again or no one ever heard it again. When I proposed to the teacher that we
put up a dance-drama based on “Puteri Hang Li Po”, I even suggested that
we use my music. I rewrote it making slight changes here and there and was
rearranged and played by a professional group and sung by our school choir.
The lyrics were composed by Adeline Khoo (English) and Jeffery (Malay).
I am glad that everyone seemed to like the music.
During the show, I was interviewed by reporters from all the major
papers but other than a small report in the Malay Mail on Friday, there were
no other reports. I thought some news of the show would come out in
today’s papers. So I bought all the main papers but, nothing. What a
disappointment!

15 October 1995
When I finished my degree course at the University of Malaya and before

the results were announced, I was posted to Sekolah Menengah Abdul
Rahman Talib (SMART), Kuantan, as the principal. There was another
person who also just finished the course at the same university, who was
posted as a teacher to SMART. His name was Mohd Khalid Ibrahim. Like
me, he was already a trained teacher before he went to the University.
Although I used to see him on the campus, I didn’t know him well. Just
before the end of the final exam, I was talking to my close friend, Aziz Busu,
who knew Khalid well. Aziz, who knew that I was going to SMART as the
Principal, didn’t tell Khalid about it, and Khalid said that he had heard that
the principal to-be of SMART was also from among us.
Anyway, on the last day of the exam, I met Khalid, who by then,
knew that I was going to Kuantan and asked him how he was going there.
He said he was taking a bus. I suggested that he came with me as I had a
car and I was travelling alone. He was only too happy to accept my offer.
So he agreed to meet at the university on the day were leaving for Kuantan.
At that time, he still didn’t have any idea that I was going to be his boss. I
think it was somewhere between Temerloh and Kuantan that I made a slip
and gave away the secret. When he discovered that I was going to be the
headmaster of the school we both were going to report to, he was a little
bit restrained in his behaviour which was at first quite free. Anyway, I told
him that until we started work, our relationship should not change from
what we were when we first met.
During the journey, I asked him where he was going to stay and he
said that he didn’t know. Then I told him to stay with me wherever I stayed.
When we arrived in Kuantan, which to me was quite familiar, but not to
Khalid, as it was his first time there, we checked in at the Annexe Rest
250 | AHMAD HASSAN

House. After some rest, we drove to the school to have a look at it. As it
was in the late afternoon, there were not many people around. We just drove
around the school compound and my impression of the school that it was
very big. Khalid had to report to the school as soon as he could while in my
case, I had to report on the first of the month, which was a day later.
The next day, I took Khalid to the school and he reported to the
Senior Assistant who said that the HM was not around and he did not know
when he (the HM) was going to come, to which Khalid quickly pointed me
to him and said “This is he!” The poor chap, when he heard that, stood up
quickly and shook my hand. The Senior Assistant, his name was Abu Tahir,
told me that the school was without a head for quite a while and he was
holding the fort. He said that he was glad that I was there. I told him that
officially I was only to start work on the next day. He then took me to the
office of the principal, which was locked. He unlocked it and took me
inside. By that time, Khalid had already been taken to the staff room to
meet the other teachers. I only stayed a while and returned to the Rest
House. Khalid came back to the Rest House after school. That evening, we
drove around the town, familiarising ourselves with the place.
On the next day, after dropping Khalid at the school, I went to the
Education Office to report for duty to the Director of Education, Mr Tan
Boon Lin. After a short briefing and meeting a few senior officers there, I
went to the school. At the school, Abu Tahir and some senior teachers met
me on my arrival. I went to my new office, which by then was dusted clean
and Abu Tahir filled me in with what I ought to know about the school. My
first day there was rather uneventful. I spent it looking at various files and
trying to learn as much about the school. If there was any big thing I
discovered about the school, it was about at its worst then. The morale of
everyone there, staff as well as students, was at a very low level.
One of the first things I noticed about my new office was that the
phone had been disconnected. It seemed that it had been for some time as
the school did not settle the phone bills. When I asked the clerk why, I was
told that the school had no money. About a week or so after my arrival, the
man from the electricity board came one morning to disconnect the power.
I had to appeal to him not to do so but he said he had his orders and he
could not go back to his office until the power was disconnected. So I did
the next best thing. I asked him for some time so that we could go and settle
the bill. As there was some money in the hostel account, I used it to pay for

the school’s electricity bill. The man left when we showed him the receipt
for the payment. These were some of the problems that I was facing when
I took over SMART. In spite of that, I was determined to do something
about it.
My first task was to raise the morale of everyone there and also to
change the public view of the school. I thought that if I could make
everyone work together as a team and make them feel important enough, I
was sure I could start somewhere. I started by being close to them, worked
alongside with them; set a good example and showed that you care for them.
At my first staff meeting with the teachers on the second day, I told them
that I was there to work with them not to direct them to do things. I said
that for the good of the school, we had to work together. Soon, I gained
their confidence. They said that I was serious with my work and that I set a
good example.
As the school was short of funds, I appealed to the Education
Department for a special fund to start me off. With whatever little money
that we had, I tried to improve the physical aspect of the school. For
example, some of the furniture needed to be replaced, the toilets which were
in an appalling condition were repaired and the school compound was
cleaned up and planted with trees etc. In the academic area, proper check
and monitoring were carried out and various subject committees were set
up to ensure that all work was properly co-ordinated. Serious attention was
also given to the co-curricular aspects of the school. Sports and games were
given their rightful place. Soon, the school was alive with activities and
everyone seemed committed to his/her responsibilities.
252 | AHMAD HASSAN

21 October 1995
I didn’t write this page last night – I’m writing this on Saturday 21/10/95 –
because I was not feeling well. In fact, for the past two days, I had been
having an upset stomach. Yesterday I didn’t take much food. I skipped
lunch and dinner but I took some liquid and a few pieces of bread. Today I
feel much better. I went to work in the morning but I came home at about
11:00 am.
Now I wish to continue with my story about SMART. In order to
bring back the good image of the school, we decided to have a function that
would give a chance for the public to visit the school. So, we decided to
have a fair which we called “Karnival 10 Tahun SMART”. This was during
my second year there. By then we were already able to form a school band,
a drum and fife band. Actually, we bought the instruments second-hand
from the Vocational School and paid in two instalments. Under the charge
of Cikgu Roslan, who, by the way, was a pupil of mine in the primary school
in JB, the band took shape very quickly and in a matter of months was able
to perform in public.
One of our first public appearances was at the opening of the State
Legislative Assembly. We hardly had any uniform. Somehow, we managed
to make the band members look presentable enough by wearing all white;
white trousers and white shirts. A black songkok with metal badge attached
to it and used boots, given to us by the local Police Force, blue tie and blue
cummerbund completed the attire. They looked smart all right. But the
most important part was their playing. They played the few songs we taught
them (by heart) and they were worthy of the honour given them. After that,
the band, whose members (about 50 of them), were exempted from other
co-curricular activities including sports, practised very hard and became

quite well-known in Kuantan then. This was partly because there was no
other school band.
With our school marching band quite established, we launched our
“Karnival” with a bang! With some of our prettiest girls dressed in colourful
dresses and other students, the band led a procession right in the town
centre, bringing out curious shoppers and other people out to see what we
were doing. The procession ended at the State Government Offices where
the office staff were leaving at that time. The girls, who were armed with
the fair coupons took the opportunity to sell them to these people. And
they made quite a sale!
254 | AHMAD HASSAN

22 October 1995
The funfair at SMART went on for two days including the nights too. We
erected stalls around our school padang and there were games and food
stalls as well as stalls ran by some business houses in Kuantan. You see,
what I did was something different from the usual school funfairs. Ours
was something that involved other schools and business-houses. We rented
out stalls to schools which we invited to participate and they either sold
food or other items. The games stalls were run by us. A few business-houses
such as the Wearne Brothers, which displayed their latest car models and
some electrical shops which displayed their TV’s and radios, etc, and
bookshops displaying their books and so on. Our guest exhibitors also gave
us a certain percentage of their profits from their sales to us besides playing
us a fixed rental.
Besides the games and the stalls that sold things, there were also
shows put up by the students. On the final night, there was a fashion show
and the Miss Carnival was chosen. A lucky draw was also drawn where the
grand prize was a modest Raleigh bicycle, which was quite a prize at that
time. The lucky draw was based on the number printed on the coupons.

23 October 1995
I mentioned two names when I was describing how I was asked to take up
the headship of Sekolah Menengah Abdul Rahman Talib in Kuantan. One
was Khalid Ibrahim, who was with me at the university and went to
Kuantan with me. The other was Abu Tahir, the Senior Assistant of
SMART, to whom Khalid reported himself.
Khalid later left SMART to continue his studies in Australia. He got
a scholarship to do a Master’s degree in Economics. When he left SMART,
that was the last time I saw him as a teacher. When I was in Sabah, I met
him once but at that time he was in the corporate sector. In this sector, he
rose very fast, he became the Head of PNB, well-known for Amanah Saham
Nasional and Amanah Saham Bumiputera. It must be due to his effort that
the ASN and ASB are what they are today. He got his Datukship which he
truly deserved. Now Datuk Khalid is the head of Guthrie and is a well-
known corporate man.
As for Abu Tahir, he, too, left SMART, first to take up a post in the
Education Department. Then, he, too, went overseas (to the USA) to do a
Master’s Degree. He came back with a Ph.D. Dr Abu Tahir worked in
several divisions of the Ministry of Education on his return and then was
posted back to Kuantan as the Deputy Director of Education, Pahang. At
the same time, he was also active in the Yayasan Pahang. For his services to
the state, he was awarded to Datukship. So now, he is Datuk Dr Abu Tahir.
I have not met him since his Datukship.
You see, these two great men were once working under me and as
fate wanted it to be, they are now people of great standing in society. I have
not met Datuk Khalid for quite a while now. Once I was invited to a Hari
Raya open house in his house and then after that, I met him once again at
the Lake Club. That’s about as often as I have the opportunity of meeting
256 | AHMAD HASSAN

him. I remember meeting him once at his office – a huge room, maybe
about 6 or 7 times the size of the room I used to occupy when I was his
boss. It was very good of him to see me at a very short notice. Actually, he
had asked me to help him to get his daughter into the MRSM. His daughter
did get into it finally, but not so much due to my help. My job was just to
get the necessary forms and to tell him what to do. Anyway, he was quite
grateful for that.
Remember, I used to help him a lot when he was just a mere teacher
in my school. Besides staying with me when he first arrived in Kuantan,
later when he decided to get married to one of the lady teachers, also
teaching in SMART, it was me who went to “meminang” the girl at her
parents’ house. It was quite an experience for me because I had never done
it before – in a serious manner, I mean. I remember going with a group of
my teachers to the girl’s house one evening for the occasion. The house was
quite deep in a kampong outside Kuantan. When we arrived at the house, the
girl’s people were already waiting. After the usual greetings and welcoming,
I started by announcing the purpose of our visit (as if they didn’t know),
followed by formally asking for the hand of the girl for Khalid. Soon
everything was settled; the proposal of marriage was accepted, the date was
fixed, the amount of dowry agreed and whatever else connected with the
wedding was decided. Then the “jamuan” followed.
As I said earlier, the girl was a teacher teaching in SMART. Her name
was Salbiah. The Head girl of the school at that time was a Form Six girl
also named Salbiah. Khalid was teaching her Economics. Somehow, this girl
must’ve had a crush on Khalid as Khalid had shown some interest in her.
Later, when Khalid began to show interest in Salbiah, the teacher; Salbiah,
the student was devastated. She even refused to go to school. When her
father discovered the reason for Salbiah’s refusal to go to school, he was
very furious and to my worry, I heard that he even wanted to harm Khalid
should anything happen to his daughter. When I heard this, I called Khalid
to my office for an explanation. He admitted that he had misled Salbiah, the
student and that he actually was interested in Salbiah, the teacher. I scolded
him for what he did to Salbiah, the student, but I told him that I was going
to see her father to try to put things right.
So, one evening, together with Ya’acob Othman, my new Senior
Assistant, I went to Salbiah’s house. There, I met the father and other
members of the family. At first, the father was quite angry, but after I had

explained to him what actually happened, and that Salbiah, his daughter,
had a bright future in her studies as she was among the top students of the
school, the father cooled off and agreed to persuade the daughter to forget
the whole thing and instead to concentrate in her studies. A few days later,
Salbiah came to school. I called her to my office and gave some advice.
Although she seemed rather unhappy, she continued with her school work
and finally got through her exam pretty well, she went on to study at the
university, I think it was the UM, and I never heard of her until one day, at
a seminar held in KL sometime after I had left the government, I met her
again. I didn’t recognise her at first until she introduced herself. She told me
that she was working in the Ministry of Education and that she was married.
258 | AHMAD HASSAN

27 October 1995
It was exactly a year ago, today, that I experienced a chest pain that caused
me to be rushed to the hospital and a few days later had a heart by-pass
operation. It was in Adelaide, South Australia. I can never forget the
experience. It was my very first trip to Australia. I was leading a group of
eleven students and three other staff. When we arrived there that morning,
I didn’t expect what was going to happen to me for the next three weeks.
While I was being hospitalised, the rest of the group continued with the
planned trip.
At first, I thought that there was nothing very serious happening to
me, and that perhaps after a check-up at the hospital, I would be declared
all right and able to join the group. I was actually feeling very well the next
morning. Somehow the doctors there refused to let me go and said that I
needed a thorough check-up which they did. I wasn’t aware at first how
serious I was in. By that time (the next day) people in Malaysia (my office)
were informed of predicament and the phone was a buzzing with the news.
The first person to call me was Ms Chin, my school administrator. I told
her that I was not in a serious condition and there was no need to panic
everybody.
Somehow, the people in Malaysia thought otherwise and decided to
send Mi there. Anyway, Mi arrived on the next day. When she came to see
me in the hospital (The Royal Adelaide), I was about to go through a series
of tests which would decide what was to happen to me. One of the first
tests was the stress test, where I was made to walk on the treadmill at various
speeds. The test showed that there were some irregularities with my
heartbeat. The doctors told me that there could be blockages in some of my
heart vessels. They needed to do the next test which was the angiogram.
They said they could locate the blockages through this test and if they found

them, one way to remedy them was to do the angioplasty – a method where
a kind of a small balloon is inserted into the blocked vessel. This method
doesn’t need the opening up of your chest.
Anyway, as we all know, the doctors decided to do the operation
after they found that the blocked vessels were too small. Though I was
somewhat upset with the news that I had to go through with the major
operation, I wasn’t really scared of it. My only concern was that I could not
join the rest of the group in its planned tour, as I had to be warded in the
hospital for a much longer time. I told Mi of the doctors’ decision when she
came to see me that afternoon. She was quite upset and worried about the
operation. Anyway, I thought that it was good to have it done there – what
with the good facilities and expertise available.
So the operation was scheduled for the 1st of Nov. While waiting for
the operation, they monitored my heart by attaching all sorts of wires to my
chest. It seemed that they had me watched 24 hours a day. As part of the
preparation for the operation, various people visited me to inform me of
what was going to happen. First, the surgeon specialist told me of the
necessity of the operation and the risk involved. Then the surgeon who was
going to perform the operation, Dr Stubberfield, came. He explained how
he was going to do the operation – the procedure. Then the Chief Nurse
came to explain about the post-operative care. I also had a visit from a lady
whose duty was to look after the welfare not only of the patient, but also
the patient’s family should they need accommodation or something like
that.
One of the things the hospital authority asked me was whether I was
insured. You see, the operation was very costly and if you not insured, you
have to pay for yourself. Fortunately, I was insured, on account of my work.
I found out later that the insurance coverage wasn’t enough, so the school
paid the balance. The whole amount came to more than RM40,000. The
actual cost of the operation was only about RM4,000. It’s the bed and the
care by the hospital staff which cost the most. Then, the cost of the
ambulance service too, was surprisingly high. It came to about RM500.
Anyway, while I was in the hospital, the staff really took care of me.
I was really impressed by the service, especially of the nurses, which by the
way, were males as well as females. I remember being put in three different
places or wards while in the hospital. I was first warded in one ward before
260 | AHMAD HASSAN

the operation, then in another immediately after the operation, and then a
few days after that in another.
The first ward I was in was a mixed ward – both men and women
were put in the same room, which contained six beds. I was brought in here
quite late at night. The lights were mostly off as patients were asleep. Only
the next day, I realised that the patient next to me was a lady. The ward that
I was in was a kind of an open ward with six beds set in two rows one
opposite the other. One side of the room were windows with venetian
blinds and the other opened to a special room where the staff (nurses) were
stationed. There were three or four of these six-bedded rooms, all on one
side of the ward with the nurses’ stations and the washrooms in the middle
and some single-bedded rooms on the other side. There was a long corridor
between the single-bedded rooms and the nurses’ stations. To go to the
ward I was in, one had to go through the long corridor and then either go
through the nurses’ station or through the break between the nurses’
stations and the washrooms. On the side where the single bedded rooms
were, there were also rooms for waiting, meeting and therapy. There were
also medical stores and treatment rooms. These were alongside with the
nurses’ stations and the washrooms. For privacy, each bed was provided
with curtains that could be reeled open or shut easily.

1 November 1995
One this day, exactly one year ago, I had my heart by-pass operation done
in Adelaide, South Australia. It was done at the Royal Adelaide Hospital. At
first it was scheduled for the morning but they changed the time to the
afternoon. The last thing I remembered was that I was wheeled into the
room before the operating theatre. I think they gave me something to knock
me out because I can’t remember when I was brought into the operating
room. The preparation for the operation was done a day before that. One
of the first things they did was to shave off my pubic hair. As I don’t have
much hair anywhere else on my body, that was the only area they shaved
off. Then, there was the fasting. My last meal was about 10:00 pm the
previous night.
That morning, they took my blood pressure, temperature and so on.
I was awakened quite early that morning as the operation was supposed to
be in the morning. When I was ready for the do, then they told me that it
was changed to the afternoon. I can’t remember not feeling hungry or
thirsty. I wasn’t afraid but anxious. I wanted it done quickly so that I could
be well soon. My thought was to return home to Malaysia.
262 | AHMAD HASSAN

2 November 1995
It was today that I woke up and realized that the operation had been done.
I woke up and Mi was there, looking rather worried. I didn’t feel much pain
but I had all sorts of wires and tubes all over my body. My movement was
rather restricted but I could feel something dull around my chest and there
was some sensation of having been hurt with a knife or something sharp. I
was not allowed to have any food or drink for a while. Anyway, I wasn’t
hungry or thirsty. I was put on drips. To ensure that I didn’t feel any pain,
I was given painkillers and even morphine every few hours.
The doctors came to see me very regularly and the nurses were there
attending to me all the time. Then, when I was well enough to listen, Mi
told me what actually happened during the operation. Well, while the
operation was going on, Mi was at the hospital at first. Then, she was asked
to return to her hotel and she could phone the hospital every hour or so to
find out what was happening. When the operation was done, she was told
that everything went well that there was nothing for her to worry and that
I was in the recovery room. Then an hour later, she called the hospital and
to her shock, she was told that I had to be wheeled into the operating theatre
again to reopen my chest as they saw that there was some internal bleeding.
But soon, she was again told that I was all right and that I was resting in the
recovery room.
As I said earlier, Mi came to see me the next day when I was already
in the ward. During the time I was in this ward, I was closely monitored by
the staff. There was a TV monitor in the nurses’ station and the duty nurse
could see how I was doing. I was given medication every four hours or so
and the nurses would come and check on me every few hours, day or night.
Every morning, the nurses would come and clean me up. In this ward, I
was still attached to the monitor, drips and waste disposal tubes. Once I

was stable, all the attachments were removed and I was allowed to get up
and eat some solid food. Then I was moved to another ward. Here I was
allowed to go to the toilet and to have showers. Whenever I was in the
washroom, there was always someone waiting outside to ensure that I was
all right. The person would call out my name now and again to ask me if I
was all right or if I needed any help.
Then on the fifth day, I was asked to go on a shuffle – a walk along
the corridor around the ward. There were four or five of us on this walk
accompanied by some nurses. One of them followed us with a wheelchair,
in case one of us needed it. We walked slowly in pairs. I was paired with a
male patient, about 80 years old, named Snowy. We walked, holding to each
other and soon we became close friends. Snowy, who came from outside
of Adelaide, had his operation about the same time as I. I found him to be
a very nice man and we did send each other Christmas cards during
Christmas.
Besides Snowy, I also made friends with some other patients,
especially those sharing a room with me. And then, the doctors and nurses
(male and female) too became friends. As I was the only Asian in the room,
I became quite an interest to the other patients who were rather reserved at
first. But once I began to talk and act friendly with them, they became
friendly and began to ask me all sorts of questions. One of the doctors,
attending to me was a Chinese girl, from Singapore. She, too, was rather
reserved at first, but later, when I asked her a few personal questions, she
became quite friendly.
264 | AHMAD HASSAN

5 November 1995
We arrived in Melaka yesterday afternoon. We, Mi and I, were in Melaka for

the ex-Brinsford Lodge students’ reunion, which is organised once a few
years. The last one was held in Penang several years ago. We didn’t attend
it. We only attended it once before. That was held sometime in the 80s, in
KL. This time, the one held in Melaka, was very significant because it
celebrated the 40th anniversary of the college. The college was opened in
August 1955 and I was one of the first students.
Last night, more than 200 ex-students were gathered in the Ballroom
of Malacca Village Paradise Resort, where the reunion was held. When we
first arrived yesterday afternoon, the foyer of the resort was in
pandemonium as ex-students greeted each other, some met for the first
time after 40 years. There were shouts of recognition, hugging and back-
slapping after an initial period of silence of trying to make out who they
were looking at. Yes, many of us changed in our looks, many with grey hair
and some with no hair at all. But after a while, we soon saw each other as
we were before, during the good old days at the college. Ex-students from
the various batches throughout the life of the college – eight batches all
together from 1955 to 1964, were there and the biggest group was the
pioneer group which numbered 52. It was quite natural to see people
greeting each other from the same group. Since my group was from the first
batch (the pioneers), most of us were in our late 50s and some had passed
their 60th birthday, me being one of them.
Once again, when we gathered in the Ballroom for dinner, we could
hardly hear each other because everybody seemed to be shouting to one
another to make himself/herself heard. When the chairman of the
organising committee, Hilary D’Cruz, who is now a lawyer, finally managed
to quieten the gathering, he made a speech, asked for a one-minute silence

for those who had departed, and then we all sang our college song, which,
I, as a music student then, helped to compose. We all sang with gusto and
cheered at the end of it. Then, the dinner began, with background music
played by a three-piece band that rendered songs of the 50s and the 60s.
Once again, the noise of us chattering to each other filled the hall
throughout the dinner and then everybody complained of sore throats the
next morning.
266 | AHMAD HASSAN

7 November 1995
Those of the first and second batches and who remained in the government
service, either as teachers, headmasters or officers in the Education
Department or with the Ministry, were all retired from service as they had
passed their 55th birthday. Those who opted out of the government service
or resigned earlier were still working, either in businesses of their own, or
other private sector, including working in private schools, like me. Quite a
number left teaching earlier, after obtaining a degree at the university; some
of which are now lawyers and successful businessmen. A few migrated to
other countries, such as Australia and Canada. For those who married
among fellow students, they remained married and that night we were
comparing notes on how many grandchildren we had.
Talking about grandchildren, that night I won a prize for being one
with the oldest grandchild (Soraya – 8+). There were also people who didn’t
marry their college girl or boy friend. The saddest part was that quite a few,
especially from my batch passed away, three of whom were from the house
I was staying in at the college (E House). A few were Datuks and, of course,
there were Datins, by virtue of them marrying Datuks. There was also a
Puan Sri – married to a Tan Sri.

8 November 1995
This morning, I sent Shap to his office, the GH, as his car was damaged in
an accident with a lorry yesterday. While in the car, we were talking about
gobek api. I don’t remember what brought us to talk about it but we were
earlier talking about our childhood. I think I have described how the gobek
api worked in the earlier part of this book.
Anyway, Uncle Shap said that he had a gobek api but he didn’t know
how it worked. So I tried to explain to him the best I could, stressing that
one must be strong enough to quickly punch in the plunger and pull it out
immediately to make it work, i.e. to get a spark that lit the ‘wool’ at the end
of the plunger. I also said that the ‘wool’ was obtained from a palm tree,
probably a nibong tree. The ‘wool’ is actually a kind of fibre that is found
at the base of the fronds that hold the leaves. The fibre was scraped from
the tree and put in a pouch after it had been dried in the sun. Then, when
it was needed for use, a small bit was put at the end of the plunger which
had a little recess to hold the ‘wool’. When the ‘wool’ caught the spark due
to the friction made by the plunger and the body of the gobek api, you could
see the smoke and then the spark. The spark was then gently blown until it
burnt the whole of the wool, which was then transferred to something
combustible to create a fire. As I mentioned earlier in the kampong, the fire
was kept burning for days, weeks or even months.
The gobek api, which was made from buffalo horn or very hard wood,
was also beautifully decorated in some cases. I had seen one that was full of
intricate carvings. The carvings were done on the body of the gobek api, not
on the plunger which consisted of a thin, cylindrical stem about 8 cm long
and 4 mm in diameter. It had a spherical handle about the size of a fifty-sen
coin, about 1 cm thick in the centre. It was very smooth and round and fit
very nicely in the centre of the palm of the holder. The smooth top of the
268 | AHMAD HASSAN

handle of the plunger enabled the operator to punch it hard without hurting
the palm of the hand. To ensure that the two parts didn’t go missing from
each other, they were normally connected with a string.

10 November 1995
RAJA ZAIN
This morning I was visited by Raja Zain, an old friend, especially from the
Sabah days. I first met Raja Zain when he came to Brinsford Lodge as a
teacher-trainer. A teacher-trainer was a trained teacher who underwent
special training at the college to become a lecturer or trainer at the various
teacher-training colleges at home.
These were mainly the Day-Training Centres set up to train primary
school teachers. The country was then in need of so many teachers that
students who passed Form Three were recruited into these centres and
given special training to become primary school teachers. Later, the
qualifications to enter these centres were upgraded to Form Five and the
centres gradually became full training colleges. In fact, many of the teacher
training colleges in the country today began as day-training centres. Well,
Raja Zain was one of a number of already trained teachers who were
selected to undergo the teacher-trainer course in Brinsford. If I am not
mistaken, there were only three batches of them who were sent there. There
were 20 or 30 of them in each batch. Raja Zain was in the third batch. He
arrived in college when I was about to leave for home. You see, the trainers
were there for only a year while the students did a two-year course.
Although I hardly knew him in college, we became colleagues and
close friends when we were in Sabah. He was the Principal of the Sandakan
Teachers’ Training College while I was the Vice-Principal of Gaya College.
Later, when I became the Chief Inspector of Schools in Sabah, he used to
help me in conducting courses for the headmasters and principals of
schools in Sabah during school holidays. The holiday courses, which the
Inspectorate conducted, were one of the good things that the division did
270 | AHMAD HASSAN

for the school administration in Sabah. By the time I left Sabah, practically
all the headmasters and principals throughout Sabah had gone through the
course. What we did was, besides making sure that the headmasters and
principals knew what their responsibilities were, we also highlighted their
duties – from day-to-day to the general duties. To make it more effective, I
also involved officers from the Education Department, who gave talks on
their various sections e.g. the finance, the service, the curriculum, the
examination and so on. As Sabah is a big state, the courses were conducted
at various centres during school holidays.

12 November 1995
TAPAI DRINKING
I remember the first one – I think it was in Keningau, where we held the
course at SMK Keningau. The participants came from all the schools in and
around the Keningau District. For three days, the participants attended
lectures and workshops where they did practical work. At the end of the
course, a party was organised where a dinner and dance, too, was held.
It was there that I experienced the drinking of tapai (the famous
Sabah rice-wine), the style it’s done in a gathering such as that one. There
was a row of tapai jars with drinking bamboo straws sticking out of them.
The jars were placed on a long table. Then the guests were lined up beside
the table. The first guest, normally the main guest, would start by sucking
through the straw in the first jar and move on to the next one. As soon as
he finished the first jar, the next guest took over from him and followed
him to the next one and so on. This went on throughout the night. More
and more tapai jars were replaced as soon as they were empty.
By the time the night was over, everyone would be in a drunken
stupor. They said the hangover was terrible but somehow I felt none the
worse the next morning. We were staying at the Rest House. When we got
back there after the party, which was held in the school hall, we were still in
a drinking mood. Though it was past midnight, we woke up the Rest House
keeper to order some beer. He obliged us by bringing out several bottles of
beer, which we consumed to its last drop, leaving the empty bottles under
the tables as well as everywhere else on the floor. That, I suppose, was the
normal behaviour of people who were under the influence of alcohol! As I
said, I didn’t feel too bad the next morning, in spite of the amount of drinks
272 | AHMAD HASSAN

I had that night. Anyway, I slept in the land-cruiser almost the whole
journey home.
Keningau town, which is situated in a valley, somewhere quite far
inland, has its own charms. The villages surrounding the town were very
picturesque, with houses built among paddy fields. I remember my first
view of the Keningau as we approached it from the hills. There, right below
us, was an expanse of paddy fields dotted with huts and fruit trees where
the people built their settlements. Even when the sun was shining, there
was a slight mist hanging in the air. And, beyond, you saw the mountains in
their majestic splendour, creating a feeling of mystery. Similarly, one would
experience the same feeling, whenever one sees the mountain villagers of
Sabah for the first time.

14 November 1995
KENINGAU REST HOUSE
The Keningau Rest House was built on a higher ground overlooking the
village. All around the rest house were government quarters and in front of
it was the golf course or a place where one could play golf. I played there a
couple of times and I should say, in the absence of a good, well-kept course,
it was good enough to satisfy a golf addict. One of the hazards was the
presence of buffalo-dung which were found in little mounds here and there
and more often than not, your golf balls were plugged in them.
The double-storey Rest House was known to be haunted. I didn’t
know about it at first. Only after we left the place I was told about it. It
seemed that one of the rooms on the ground floor was the one that was
known to have given some guests some harrowing experiences. The story
was that the person or persons who slept in that room would find himself
or themselves sleeping in the bathroom instead. The eerie discovery would
normally happen in the middle of the night or the next morning. On my
second visit to the place, I saw that the room was locked and it seemed that
it was never used.
274 | AHMAD HASSAN

15 November 1995
THE HAUNTED REST HOUSE
Sabah seemed to be never short of haunted places. Almost all the rest
houses and little hotels had some fascinating stories. The Kota Belud Rest
House had its haunted room. Only people who didn’t know the story would
take the room and what he found out later made him regret doing it.
Then, there was this hotel in Tenom. The room facing the graveyard
was claimed to be haunted. Anyone who slept in it would hear, especially
around midnight, the sound of groaning men. It was believed that a ‘Mat
Salleh’ was murdered and his body was buried there. It was his ghost that
one would hear groaning at night. Actually, I slept in that room once with
another inspector. Of course, we didn’t know the story before that. You
know what? We didn’t hear a thing!
The Kudat Rest House, too, had its share of a haunted room. A story
was told that a man slept in this room once, when the next morning, he
found himself sleeping outside on the ground with nothing on. I had slept
in this rest house a few times but not in that particular room.

16 November 1995
HAMID BAHARUDDIN
At about 5 this evening, Mi and I went to see Uncle Hamid, the musician,
at his house. He had just been discharged from the hospital where he had
been warded for several days. Hamid Baharuddin is one of my close friends.
I came to know him many years ago when we were in the school
inspectorate – I was then in Sabah and he was in KL. Then, when I came
back to KL, we were working together in the same office.
Hamid is a very good musician. He plays the piano beautifully and
whenever there’s a gathering, he would surely be asked to play. He also
composes songs and he has won several song writing competitions
organised by RTM. Today, when I went to see him, he looked rather weak
and I don’t think he plays the piano much now.
Rahman Ghani, another close friend, knows Hamid much better, for
they were college-mates. According to Rahman, Hamid has changed a lot
since he came back from Mecca about three or four years ago. The lively
Hamid is now very serious and talks mostly about religion. We used to have
get-togethers quite often before where Hamid would entertain us with his
piano playing, but since his return from Mecca, we have seen less and less
of him.
276 | AHMAD HASSAN

17 November 1995
When I was small, I used to see people building boats – small fishing boats
and huge tongkang. I would sit there fascinated by the skills of those boat-
builders. The owner of the house I was staying in with Mak Cik Tok Su in
Mersing after our return from Muar, was a boat builder. He built his boat
in a shed next to his house.
The most wonderful part about this man was that he used very
simple tools to build the boat. I remember seeing him using a saw, an axe,
a few chisels, a hammer and a plane. He started by laying the keel of the
boat first. The keel, about 10 feet long, was the length of the boat. The keel,
which was lying horizontally on the ground, on some wooden supports had
two stems, one at each end. Then, he built the ribs of the boat. They were
of different sizes, the biggest being the ones in the centre of the boat and
they became smaller towards the two ends of the boat. The ribs were about
a foot apart. The keel with the ribs and the stems formed the skeleton or
the ‘chassis’ of the boat. The keel is actually the spine that holds the boat
together. Once the ribs and the stems were securely attached to the keel
(lunas, as they called it), the walls of the boat were then ‘wrapped’ around
them.
Every part of the boat was made of wood; even the nails were
wooden. To ensure that the boat didn’t leak, a kind of gum called ‘gegala’
was used to seal off all joints. Before the gegala was applied to all the joints
and cracks, a kind of material such as rope made from coconut husk or a
soft bark from a special kind of tree, was squeezed into the cracks first.
Then, the gegala, which was quite soft and sticky was applied to the joints.
The gegala came from the gum of a tree. I don’t know the name of
the tree. The gum obtained from this tree in the jungle looked like dried
rock crystals. Chunks of them would be pounded into powder. I don’t know

what else was added to the powder but hot water was poured into it. The
powder then became clay-like and sticky. The mixture was then kneaded
like dough. To avoid the mixture sticking to the fingers, coconut oil was
used. Actually, gegala was very much like tar except that it was yellowish
brown in colour. This is what I saw when the man applied the gegala to the
boat. A lump of gegala – about the size of a small football – was put in a
small container containing some water (the water was to avoid the gegala
sticking to the container and also from drying). He pinched the soft gegala
with his right hand and holding it in his palm, he applied it to the boat joint
in a continuous strip, pressing it with his thumbs and forefingers of both
hands. Every now and again, he dipped his fingers in coconut oil to avoid
the gegala sticking to his hands. The gegala, when dried, became hard and
water tight.
The building of the tongkang was quite similar to the building of the
small boat I’ve just described. Because of its huge size, almost ten feet high
and about twenty feet wide at its widest part and almost forty feet long,
several people were needed to build it. It was during the Japanese time when
I saw several of these huge boats built on the riverbank of Mersing. The
place was a stone’s throw from the site of the house where I was born.
I don’t exactly know how long it took to build the boat, but I
remember well how often I and my friends used to play around the
unfinished boats (there were two or three of these being built at the same
time). We normally went to play around the boats when the workmen were
not there after they had finished their work for the day. Everything about
the boat, as I can well recall, was huge. The keel, the stems and the ribs,
especially the ribs, stood towering above us. This type of boat was known
as Tongkang Keling, as opposed to Tongkang Cina, the one I described earlier.
278 | AHMAD HASSAN

20 November 1995
This morning, I went to school (my office) despite being on leave because
I had to see this person from GfBt. The person, a lady by the name of
Audrey had made an appointment to see me earlier but I forgot about it.
Anyway, she came to see me about how she could be of service to help my
teachers develop further their effectiveness in their work. I briefed her on
what we are doing in the school; the school philosophy and so on.
Among other things, we spoke about the educational systems, both
in our country and in other places in general. She seemed to agree with what
I am doing in the school especially the way we handle discipline. I told her
that we believe that discipline can be inculcated through respect. We don’t
believe in instilling fear in the children instead we propagate love and
respect.
She also liked the idea of the school having a special theme for each
year, e.g. our first-year theme was “Love and Care”. The second was
“Responsibility”, the third was “Towards a Dynamic Society” and currently
“Clean and Beautiful”. When she asked me what it was going to be next
year, I told her that it had something to do with “Dignity”.

21 November 1995
One of a number of framed photographs that I display in my office is that

of me with Tunku Abdul Rahman, the first Prime Minister of Malaysia. The
photograph, which was taken in his residence in KL sometime in 1989,
shows the Tunku sitting comfortably in a lounge chair with me sitting on
his right, slightly behind him. The pose has caused a number of curious
looks from visitors, some of whom were brave enough to ask. “Are you
related to Tunku?” and my proud answer is, of course, “No, but I am one
of his many admirers.” Then I started telling them how the picture got
taken.
It was during the Charity Dinner for the Tasputera Perkim Children’s
Home to which the Tunku, who was the Patron, was the honoured guest
that night. It was held in the compound of his residence. As the whole
function was managed by Hotel, Catering and Institutional Management
Centre (HCIMC) students and staff and I was the principal of the college, I
was playing the role of host. The dinner, which attracted almost 400 paying
guests, was prepared, cooked and served by the HCIMC students helped by
their lecturers. It was indeed a proud moment for the college and whenever
I look at the picture of me and the Tunku, I can’t help feeling proud of my
association with the college.
280 | AHMAD HASSAN

22 November 1995
When I was still in school, when UMNO was in its early stage, I remember
the UMNO Headquarters in Jalan Ibrahim, Johor Bahru. It was in one of
the shophouses alongside some of the very popular shops there – one of
them being the well-known E Heng, the Air Batu Campur (ABC) shop,
which later became a very popular provision shop, similar to our mini
market today. The UMNO HQ was the most prominent one along the row
of shophouses with its better façade and the UMNO flag flying in its front.
From the outside (the kaki lima), you could see the inside of the building.
Other than tables and chairs for meetings and so on, there was nothing
much inside, but upstairs, there were offices and even a big hall that could
be used for shows and conferences. I remember singing with the band I
was with, in this hall once. I don’t know what the occasion was.
Long Hassan, my cousin, was very active in UMNO at that time. I
think he was some kind of a secretary to the movement. He went there
almost every evening to do some work. I once followed him there and I had
to wait for him while he was typing some letters. Many of the members
were Malay school teachers like my cousin, Long Hassan. During this
particular time, I think I was then in Form 4 or 5. I used to see Tunku Abdul
Rahman on some days, waiting for the bus or taxi to go to the UMNO HQ.
he was then living in Jalan Yahaya Awal, almost opposite the house of Encik
Wahid, my former boss, whom I described earlier. I remember seeing the
Tunku with his briefcase in one hand, waiting there by the road-side for the
bus, with no one paying much attention to him. Who would ever think that
he was to be the first Prime Minister of Malaya, then Malaysia?
My first real encounter with the Tunku was during my wedding. You
see, the Tunku was a good friend of your Tok’s. They met and became

friends when they were studying in the United Kingdom. It was on the
Tunku’s insistence that your Tok became the first elected Menteri Besar of
Negeri Sembilan. So when Mi and I were married, the wedding ceremony
was carried out at the MB’s residence in the Lake Garden. It took place in
the same year that Tok became the MB. The Tunku, who was then the
Prime Minister of Malaya, was the guest of honour. I mentioned this to him
when I met him at his residence during the Tasputera dinner. I don’t think
he remembered but was polite enough to say he did. But he asked me about
Tok, whether he was still alive. Of course, he was not only alive then, but
still alive today.
Another VVIP who came for the wedding was Tun Razak and his
wife Toh Puan Raha, but they came on the next day. He reasoned that he
could have more time with the newly-weds if he came when it wasn’t too
busy. Anyway, we chit-chatted for quite a while with Tok and Nek being
there too. I told Tun Razak of the memorable day when he visited Brinsford
Lodge to announce the date of the Independence. I still remember what he
said about being a teacher. He said the teaching profession was one of the
most noble of jobs, and that I should be proud to belong to the profession.
I also remember him saying that he preferred to work with people that he
knew well. For that reason, he said he picked his staff among people that
he had worked with before or among his colleagues. But he said this did
not mean that ability and hard work did not count. In fact, they were the
first criteria to be considered. Tun Razak, who was known to be one who
was always serious and seldom smiled, was very relaxed and jovial on that
day. He joked about me and Mi going to spend our honeymoon in Japan,
and then said that when going to Japan one should not bring one’s wife, as
the Japanese ladies didn’t like our ladies!
Tun Razak was then the Deputy Prime Minister and he was
synonymous with rural development. He would tour the rural areas
throughout the country to make sure the development in the kampongs was
going on at the same time as those in the towns. It was also a known fact
that government officers were very apprehensive when they heard that Tun
Razak would visit their departments. They would try their best to put things
right, lest the Tun would be very upset when he saw things were not
properly done or things were done behind schedule.
Tun Razak was also the first Minister of Education. It was the report
done during his tenure of office that has become the basis for our
282 | AHMAD HASSAN

educational system today. The report is known as The Razak Report. The
report stresses the importance of Bahasa Malaysia and that it should be the
main medium of instruction in all government secondary schools. Now, his
son, Datuk Najib, is the Minister of Education. There have been quite a
number of ministers of education since the country got its independence.
The ones that I remember and some of them I had the opportunity to meet
personally were Abdul Rahman Talib, Capt. Abdul Hamid Khan, Mohd
Khir Johari, Abdul Rahman Yaacob, Mohammad Yaacob, Musa Hitam,
Abdullah Badawi, Anwar Ibrahim and Sulaiman Daud.
Musa Hitam was my school mate in English College, Johor Bahru.
He was two years ahead of me. Anwar Ibrahim was my university mate. He
was two years ahead of me. Mohd Khir Johari was the Education Minister
when I was the Headmaster of SMK Kemaman. When the school had its
official opening in 1966, it was Mohd Khir Johari who officiated it. If I am
not mistaken, he was about the longest-serving Education Minister.
Sulaiman Daud became the Educational Minister twice, once in the 80s
when I was still in the government services, and again in the 90s before
Datuk Sri Najib took over. In between, he was appointed a minister of some
other ministry. It was during Musa Hitam’s tenure of office, that the KBSR
was implemented – a real big change in the primary school curriculum. The
new curriculum was to emphasize the 3Rs – Reading, Writing and
Arithmetic.

27 November 1995
I think it was sometime in 1976, about six or so years before the KBSR was
implemented, I had the occasion of talking to Mr Tan Boon Lin, who was
then the Federal Chief Inspector of Schools and I, the Chief Inspector of
Schools, Sabah, something about the Ministry of Education wanting to
change the primary school curriculum. He said that he was involved in the
discussion and that a committee was being formed to look into the matter.
Later, when the committee was formed, the Director General of
Education was heading the Main Committee. Datuk Aziz Ismail, the
Deputy Director General, headed the Technical Committee to which Mr
Tan Boon Lin was a member, and I used to represent him at some of the
meetings. Mr Tan Boon Lin was elected the Chairman of the Committee
that was to develop the Moral Education syllabus and I sat on this
committee. It was indeed a very busy time for many of us who were
involved directly with the creation of this new curriculum. I am proud to
say that I was one of those people. Although I was directly involved in the
creation of Moral Education, which was to be an important ingredient of
KBSR, I was also involved in the KBSR development in general.
As an inspector of schools, I was given the task of monitoring the
‘prototypes’ of the curriculum in the selected schools to try it out. The
inspectorate visited these selected schools, whose teachers were already
exposed and ‘trained’ in the new curriculum and submitted reports to the
main committee on the viability of the curriculum. The main committee,
which was composed of all the state directors of education, and all the
directors of the divisions in the Ministry of Education, was headed by the
Director General of Education, who was then Tan Sri Murad.
284 | AHMAD HASSAN

As I was the linkman between the inspectorate and the main
committee, it was my job to present the report of the inspectorate to the
main committee. The job could be a tricky one, as some of the things
mentioned in the report might have not pleased some of the directors of
education, especially the state directors. I remember once, the Chief
Inspector himself, who was then Mr Cheah Tat Huat, presented the report
and he was ‘torn to pieces’ by the members of the committee. Fortunately,
I did not face such hostile reactions from the committee members when I
presented the report.
Besides providing the report, I also helped the KBSR Technical
Committee to work out solutions to any problems faced by the infant
programme. One of the most interesting parts of the KBSR project, for me,
was working with the Moral Education programme. Moral Education was
a new subject. It had to start afresh. Before I joined the working committee,
a National Level Committee was formed with the Minister himself as
Chairman.
After discussions at the Cabinet level were completed, various other
committees were set up to work out the programme. Mr Tan Boon Lin, the
Chief Inspector of Schools was appointed to chair the main committee. The
committee, which comprised various religious leaders or their
representatives, was given the task of coming out with the social values that
were to become the basis for the syllabus. I had the opportunity to attend
one or two of these committee meetings and I noticed that the members
argued about the various values put forward from their own religious point
of view. Although most of them agreed on most values put forward e.g.
honesty, kindness, gratitude, etc, whatever small differences were only in
application or approach. The Main Committee’s main duty was only to
come out with the values. Then, there was the Technical Committee to
work out the details such as how the subject was to be taught in schools.

30 November 1995
On the Technical Committee were representatives from the Ministry of

Education Division, as well as some selected schools. I represented the
Federal Inspectorate. In fact, I had two roles in the KBSR – one as the
Inspectorate’s rep in the KBSR Technical Committee and the other as a rep
of the Inspectorate in the Moral Education Technical Committee. All the
subjects taught in the KBSR had their own technical committees and the
inspectorate, like all the other divisions in the Ministry of Education, was
represented in all of them.
Several courses and workshops were held, mostly at Fraser’s Hill, for
all the subject committees. Each committee would discuss and work out
everything connected with the subject and at the end came out with
guidebooks for teachers. Of course, each committee was responsible for
creating the syllabus first, in my case, I had to be involved in the
development of the general guidelines for the KBSR as a whole e.g., the
KBSR guidebooks, as well as the Moral Education syllabus and guide book.
We also had to produce sample lessons and prepare teaching aids, such as
charts, pictures, music and even plays, which we acted and recorded on
tapes. I must say it was quite fun!
286 | AHMAD HASSAN

1 December 1995
Today is the first day of the last month of the year. This means that I have
been writing continuously every night for the past eleven months. All this
while, I’ve been writing about things that I’ve experienced and seen or done
since I can remember. Sometimes, I feel that I have nothing much to say.
For instance, at this very moment, I can’t think of anything worth writing
about. Maybe I should elaborate on some of the things that I have written
about.
I don’t know whether I have spoken about the little crabs I used to
see on the banks of the Mersing River when I was small. Yes, these little
creatures were indeed very fascinating. On low tide, when the muddy banks
were exposed, hundreds of these little crabs, in various beautiful colours,
came out looking for food, running and scattering about. When you
approach them, they quickly disappear into their holes in the ground. I
remember, me and my cousins used to catch some of them. These crabs,
about an inch long, had huge claws almost the size of its body. There was
only one huge claw to a crab. The claw, which was white in colour,
contrasted with the colours of the body which in some cases were blue or
green or even orange. When you approached them, their first reaction was
to extend their claw out, trying to snap at you with it. On a few occasions,
I was clawed by the crab and although it was quite painful but bearable.
A few days ago, I saw a programme on TV about similar crabs. They
have a name for these crabs, which I’ve forgotten what it was, but it has
something to do with ‘mud’. According to the narrator, the crab with the
huge claw was a male crab and the female had two small ones. The male
also has another small claw, but so small that it is almost invisible. The male

crab would extend out its huge claw not only to attack its enemy or to
defend itself but also as a means to attract the females – so said the narrator.
On my several trips back to Mersing later on, I didn’t see any of these
crabs anymore. I don’t know whether they are now extinct or that they have
moved away to somewhere else, as there’s so much development going on
along the riverbanks that I used to play about when I was small. Besides
these crabs, there were also some other creatures, one of them was the ikan
temakul or the mud-snapper. The other was a bigger crab which left a big
mound of earth at its hole.
288 | AHMAD HASSAN

3 December 1995
MR J.P.B. DOBBS
Mr. J.P.B. Dobbs was a music lecturer at Brinsford Lodge. He was not only
my music lecturer but also my close friend. Our friendship began when he
saw me singing at one of the college functions. At that time, I was among
the first, if not the first to sing Malay songs solo. I think Mr. Dobbs had
never heard a Malay song before. He began to ask me a lot of things about
Malay music. Since then, we have discussed Malay music and everything
else Malay at every opportunity we had. He even asked me to teach him
Malay, which I did. We used to meet once a week in his tutorial room where
I taught him basic Malay and then talked about music.
I told him that I was interested to learn music but I had no
opportunity to do so when I was small. Then, when the college decided that
all students were to take three teaching subjects (options), I naturally chose
Music on top of Art and Geography which were my other two options. My
taking of music as a subject brought me closer to Mr. Dobbs. We even
‘adopted’ each other as brothers. On one Christmas holiday, he took me
home to his mother’s house, somewhere near Gloucester. His mother was
then staying with his aunty who was indeed very kind to me.
While I was still in college, I saw Mr. Dobbs’ mother and aunty a few
times. On one or two occasions, he brought them over to the college when
we had some celebrations. Mr. Dobbs’ mother was on the plump side and
the aunty was thin. I think Mr. Dobbs’ mother had one arm disabled. Both
ladies were great and they treated me with such care when I came to visit
them at their house. Their house was quite remote from the city. The place

could be considered rural by English standards. There wasn’t even a
modern sanitation system in the house. I remember going to the toilet,
which was situated quite a distance from the house. It was then snowing
and the whole area around the house, including that of the toilet, was white
with snow.
As I said, the house was quite far away from the city. After driving
for quite some time out of the city of Gloucester, we came to a small village.
As it was in winter, it was quite dark when we arrived in the village. Mr.
Dobbs drove his car to a petrol station where there was a garage and left
the car in the garage. From there, we walked to his house. It was quite a
distance and I felt the distance much more as it was very cold. The warmth
of the house was most welcomed.
290 | AHMAD HASSAN

5 December 1995
The “Tres Amigos”, though not really very popular among Malayans, were
often heard over the radio in the 50s. They comprised three men of
Portuguese descent from Malacca. One of them was a teacher, the other a
Customs officer and the last one, I don’t know what he was. The three of
them sang, more as a hobby than as a way of earning a living.
The teacher, whose name was Camilo Gomes, went to Brinsford
Lodge as a trainer. It was there that I met him. We were in the same music
class and we sang bass in the college choir. Camilo had a beautiful singing
voice and used to sing one of the songs sung by the Tres Amigos. The song,
called “The Moon Shining over Malaya”, according to him, was composed
by one of the Amigos, while being interned in Changi Prison in Singapore,
during the Japanese Occupation of Malaya. I liked the song very much and
learnt to sing it from Camilo. He not only taught me to sing the song but
also taught me the guitar chords to accompany the song. I have sung that
song many, many times at various functions including the last concert we
put up at Kirkby College in 1962. I think the first time I sang that song solo
was at a campfire held by the girl guides in Adelboden, Switzerland. We, a
group of scouts, were invited there.

6 December 1995
Talking about scouting and Switzerland reminds me of the time when a

group of us Rover Scouts from Brindsford Lodge, spent about a week at
the International Scout Camp in a village called Kandersteg in Switzerland.
Mr. Dobbs was the team leader. We all wore our full uniforms and stayed
in lodges in the village. One of the chaps who came with us was Nazri, who
was not a scout and had never been one in his life. To enable him to join
us, we made him wear the scout uniform and taught him to behave like a
scout.
Not far from our village was another village, Adelboden, where the
International Girl Guide camp was. As the crow flies, the village was only
about 2 km from our village, but to reach there by road, the distance was
about 20 km away! When we broke camp after about a week, we decided to
go over to the girls’ side. Instead of taking the road, we decided to cut across
the mountain. Guided by the information given by the local villagers, we
(there were six of us) started climbing (walking up) our side of the mountain.
It was easy at first but it got steeper as we went higher. At one point, we
were not sure whether we wanted to go on or to turn back. But it was too
late to turn back as we had gone so far. We trudged on until we came to the
peak, which was really a saddle.
Behold! What we saw from there, to me was the most beautiful sight
on earth. Standing there, we could see both sides of the mountain. On one
side was the village that we had just left, Kandersteg and on the other was
the village we were going to, Adelboden. And for miles beyond, we saw
farms and villages in the bright beautiful summer daylight. After we rested
a bit, we decided to go on down to the village we were aiming for. Climbing
292 | AHMAD HASSAN

up the mountain was tough but going down was no better. At least we didn’t
fall coming up; we fell a few times going down.
Just as the top of the mountain looked quite close to the village we
came from, Adelboden, the village we were heading for looked so close
from the top of the mountain. But it took us more than two hours to reach
it. When we arrived there, we stopped at the first farmhouse that we came
across. It turned out to be the one that we stayed in during our stay in the
village. It was also quite close to the girl guide camp. The farmer, a very
jovial man was very friendly and offered us to stay in his barn for a small
fee. The barn house was very clean and we slept on bales of hay. He also
allowed us to use the kitchen under his house where there was also a
bathroom.
One of the best things that happened here was we got to drink plenty
of fresh milk every day. Fresh milk and oats were plentiful and they became
our daily diet. Every morning, we got up early and as it was in summer, it
turned bright very early. We took turns to cook breakfast in the kitchen
under the farmer’s house – Razak Rouse (deceased) was always the earliest
one to rise and by the time the others got up, he had already cooked
breakfast for everybody.
Razak was such a wonderful fellow. He was always willing to help
others and was a real gentleman. I later met him when we returned home
to Malaya. He was then the headmaster of a secondary school in Batu Pahat
and I was the Headmaster in Kemaman. We were attending a seminar for
all the newly appointed headmasters. It was held in Kuala Lumpur. We
didn’t see each other again after that until I was posted to Sabah. I
discovered that Razak was a lawyer in Kota Kinabalu; a partner in a very
successful law firm there. When he heard that I was in KK, he and his wife
Normah, came to visit us and then invited us over to his place. He even lent
us one of his cars, a Metropolitan – a cute little car made in America. We
were quite close, visiting each other quite often while we were in Sabah.
Razak was quite close to Tun Mustapha, who was then the most
powerful man in Sabah. He was the Chief Minister. When Tun Mustapha
fell (his USNO party was badly defeated), and Berjaya came to power, Razak
too began to lose his business. When we came back to Peninsular Malaysia,
Razak was still there. Then one day, we heard that Razak passed away. His
body was brought back here and I attended his funeral in PJ.

When we were in college, Razak and I were not the best of friends
but had great respect for each other. Like me, he came from Johor but his
hometown was Segamat. Like me too, he was a very keen scout. That was
why, when we were in college, we were active in scouting by being members
of the College Rover Crew. I don’t know how Razak spent his free time in
college. While other students spent their time going to the pubs or dance
halls, Razak seemed to be always doing things less interesting, such as doing
college work or going to the library. I know he played tennis and cricket
too. He was also active in the Student Union and was the President of the
Malay Society of the college. The biggest blow to him, and a great shock to
all of us, was when we failed his final exam.
294 | AHMAD HASSAN

10 December 1995
This morning, Mi and I went to see Soraya and Ariff in PJ. On the way, we
passed Wisma Damansara. This huge building used to be a place where I
was working for a brief spell with ICL. Somehow the experience of working
here left me with a strange feeling of dissatisfaction. I didn’t mind the place.
It was nice but the work or the lack of it was not at all to my liking. I didn’t
have much to do. My position was Administration Manager and my direct
report was to the Training Manager, Mr Parmjit Singh. It was he who
brought me to work here when I left the position of Principal of HCIMC.
At ICL, I didn’t even have a room to myself. I sat in this big room
which was also the library and workroom. I didn’t do much administrative
work except shuffling and clipping papers together, which could have been
done by a lowly paid office boy. Most of the things I did were things that
Parmjit directed me to do. After a few months, I began to lose my identity.
Except for a few students, nobody cared two hoots about who I was. I
wasn’t used to this. For years, I had been looked up to by so many people
and here I was, a real nobody! I felt miserable though the pay was good.
Then, after six months, I decided to quit.

11 December 1995
Before I worked for ICL, which I left after only about six months, I was
working for HCIMC (Hotel, Catering and Institutional Management
Centre) as the principal. As its name implies, the centre was training
students for the hotel industry or as they prefer to be referred to, the
hospitality industry. Although I was not trained for the industry, I found
that I could manage the centre all right and I enjoyed doing it.
The centre had just opened and its first Principal, a man trained for
the hotel was appointed. Somehow, though he was a good hotelier, he was
not able to run a school. My coming into the scene was purely by chance.
At that time, I was teaching part-time in an expat private school called ELC.
The Principal, Margaret Kaloo, an Irish lady, who married Dr Kaloo, a
Malaysian Indian, held a Deepavali party in her house. I was one of the
guests. Here I met Ng, who taught at HCIMC. She was teaching at ELC
before that. I got to talking about education and naturally, I started telling
her about my ‘rich’ experience in it. I think she and her husband (both very
young) were quite impressed, then she told me that the school she was
teaching in, HCIMC, was looking for a principal and that I should try
applying for the post. I told her that I knew nothing about the hotel
business. Anyway, I gave her my phone number which she said she would
give to her boss to contact me. I never really took it seriously.
Then, one bright morning, I got a call from HCIMC. The director of
the company was interested to see me. So a date was fixed and on that date
I made my way to his office which was in Jalan Ipoh Kecil in the Chow Kit
area of KL. The director, by the name of Thillay, was a nice man. We chit-
296 | AHMAD HASSAN

chatted on a number of things, each trying to find a common topic of
interest to both. Finally, we touched on Art – he is quite an artist himself,
specialising in glass-etching and I being an art teacher – we went on talking
about it until we realised that that was not the purpose of our meeting. He
then explained to me that the college needed someone to run it as an
educational centre. I told him that I wasn’t short of that kind of experience
but running a hotel school, was something altogether new to me. Anyway,
in the end, we agreed to give it a try. That was how I became the Principal
of HCIMC.
I spent two years running the centre and I must say I thoroughly
enjoyed the experience. I learnt a lot about the hotel business and was very
much involved with people in the hotel business. I had the opportunity of
walking in and out of some of the finest hotels in KL. To the hotel staff,
they thought that I was a hotelier myself! There were even occasions when
I was invited to judge cooking or food preparation competitions! The
competitions were hotel chefs and other judges were people in the industry.
Anyway, I managed to create an impression and to my surprise, my judging
wasn’t bad at all, very much on par with the other judges’.
I was also often invited to the meetings of the MAFBIA (Malaysian
F&B Managers Association). The group whose members were F&B
managers of most hotels, clubs and restaurants in the country, met once a
month at different venues. Carlsberg supplies all the beer and there was
always plenty of food. I remember once it was held at the Iranian restaurant
in Jalan Ampang. One of the items was a talk by the Toast Master’s Club
Chairman. He was supposed to be a very good speaker, very witty and
eloquent. When he was introduced, there was a big round of applause and
when he started speaking, everybody else did the same, for most of us were
more interested in the beer than listening to the talk. Anyway, he cut short
his speech and he got a much bigger applause! Then it was followed by
some Middle Eastern music and dance. We were told that there was to be a
belly dance which we all were looking forward to. The music went on and
on and there was yet no sign of the belly dancers. Then the dancers came
out – they were all moustachioed men, performing some very vigorous
desert dances! What a disappointment. We expected to see some gyrating
Arabic girls, instead, we saw what we saw, some hairy-chested men doing
some boring dances.

Another interesting episode of my tenure of office as its Principal of
HCIMC was when the centre was preparing the students for their final
exam. It was the first experience for everybody. The exam was to be
conducted by the French examiner from Toulouse in France. Five of them
came, led by Prof Jean Pierre Poulin. They were experts in different fields
– Management, Restaurant, Cooking and Accommodation. They were here
for more than a week. They set the questions, conducted the exam, marked
the papers and announced the results, all in about 10 days. The exam was
conducted in three forms – oral, written and practical.
298 | AHMAD HASSAN

15 December 1995
I am writing this in Kem Bina Semangat in Kuala Kubu Baru. I arrived here
with three other teachers this evening. I’m here to see our school prefects
undergoing a leadership course. The three-day course is being conducted
by MBf Academy in collaboration with this camp in KKB. The prefects
arrived here yesterday. I had the opportunity to see some of their activities
this evening and from what I could see they seemed to be responding well
to the activities.
The activities were geared towards teamwork. They were quite
rigorous and most, if not all of them, had to be done in a group. Tonight
they finished their activities way past midnight and tomorrow they have to
get up early to start the day. Most of the prefects seldom have the
opportunity to do this kind of physical activity. They are so used to the easy
life. I am sure when they finish this course, it will be a good experience for
them and I hope they will be good leaders.
This camp is quite far from the busy part of civilization and very
suitable for courses of this kind. Accommodation facilities are adequate and
training facilities, too, are very suitable. Besides a big hall, there are dining
halls and canteens.

16 December 1995
I woke up quite early this morning realizing that I wasn’t at home but in a
youth training camp. I got up and looked out of the window, and what a
beautiful sight it was. The air was so fresh and the surrounding area with
mountains and jungle in the distance was indeed something that you don’t
see in KL and any big towns. I saw the trainees were already up and about.
Together with Pn Munap and Cikgu Mahani, I went for a walk. We went to
the area where they conducted the High Rope training. We saw rope bridges
and other rope training facilities slung between trees about 20 to 30 feet off
the ground. The area was next to a river. There was no one training at that
time.
When we came back to the camp, we saw our prefects doing the 12-
foot wall climb. It was a very tough assignment, especially for those who
were not used to the rough and tough life. Anyway, to their credit, all 36 of
them managed to go over the wall by helping each other. Next, they had to
build a raft. They were given 6 empty oil drums, some ropes and pieces of
wood. They were to get onto this raft, all 18 of them on each raft and row
to a designated place to collect a flag and return. They managed to do that
with great difficulties, such as the raft coming apart and had to be built
again. Also, they couldn’t make it within the time required of them.
I personally feel that this kind of training is good for our youths of
today, especially those who live in urban areas. Many town boys and girls
of today have never seen life in rural settings. Many of them have not been
to the jungle or swam in a river. All these are found in the training
programme conducted here. Another good aspect of the training is the
emphasis given to the teamwork. The boys and girls are required to work
as a team. They are given problems to solve and they have to think as a
group to find ways and means to solve the problems. Those who have
300 | AHMAD HASSAN

attended the course, I am told, started as individuals or very selfish, and left
feeling very close to one another. During my young days, we did not have
such facilities. One of the ways to give youths such training was through
activities such as scouting. But, as for me, being a boy from the kampong, I
had plenty of opportunities to experience physical activities. When I saw
what the prefects did at this camp, I couldn’t help feeling nostalgic for my
young days.

18 December 1995
Yesterday I received a Christmas card from Mr. Dobbs. The last time I
heard from him was more than 20 years ago. It was actually my mistake for
breaking the communication link. I did not answer his letters – I don’t know
why I kept postponing the idea of writing to him. But I do remember him
a lot. It’s just that I don’t take the trouble to write. Now that he has broken
the ice and likewise I have done the same by sending him a Christmas card
this morning. I must resume our correspondence. There must be a lot to
talk about. Imagine, more than 20 years of happenings!
This morning, while writing the Christmas card to him, an idea struck
my mind – why not I visit England next year? Yes, maybe I’ll just do that.
It would be wonderful to see England again. I am sure, after more than 33
years, a lot of things must’ve changed. England has always had a place in
my heart. It was there that I learnt a lot about the world, the Western world
especially. It was there that I discovered the meaning of things I learnt in
school, especially the literature and above all it was there that I found my
wife!
302 | AHMAD HASSAN

19 December 1995
Before I went to England, I had already heard so much about the country.
We learnt it in school as our textbooks were all from England and most of
the stories in them especially in literature were all about England. We learnt
British history and knew about the history of all the Commonwealth
countries better than the history of our own country. In geography, too, we
almost knew every inch of Great Britain. We knew the physical features of
the land and the weather by heart. In Arithmetic, we learnt to count their
money and to us pounds, shillings and pence were as common as ringgit
(dollars) and sen. Although in Malaya at that time, we used kati and tahil for
measuring weight. Pound and ounces were also used, especially when it
came to weighing body weight.
To me, at that time, it was not strange to learn all those foreign
things. In fact, we felt lucky to be able to learn all those things. We felt that
we were better educated by learning everything British, as compared to
those who only went to the Malay school. We were not only able to speak
the language of our masters, we also had better opportunities to widen our
knowledge through reading their books and magazines, etc.
Yes, those who went to the English schools were the lucky ones.
They were considered English-educated as opposed to the Malay or
Chinese-educated. The English-educated were considered better educated
as they were the ones who had the opportunity to become doctors,
engineers, lawyers and so on. As for the Malay-educated, the furthest they
could go was to become a Malay cikgu. I am considered to be among the
lucky ones, to be able to go to the English school, although I finally became
a cikgu too, but an English school cikgu, trained in England!
In my immediate family, I am the first to be English-educated and to
go to England. My elder brother, Hamid, had never been to an English

school. He finished his Malay school education and became a trainee
teacher and was sent to the Sultan Idris Training College in Tanjong Malim,
Perak. He later studied on his own and took the School Certificate (in
English) and when he passed this exam, he was sent to the Language
Institute in KL for a one-year course. When he came out of this college, he
was posted to an English school to teach the Malay Language. It was while
here that he studied for the Higher School Certificate and when he passed
that, he enrolled himself in the University (MU). He graduated with
honours in Malay studies. After a short period of teaching as a graduate
teacher, he was promoted to principal of a secondary school, first in Batu
Pahat. Then, in Muar and finally in Pontian where he stayed until he retired.
As I mentioned earlier, my brother even as a boy was very smart. He
could read very well when he was very young. In school, he always topped
his class. It was a pity that he had no opportunity to go to an English school.
Otherwise, he would have done much better. In spite of that, he still did
well by studying on his own and eventually went to university. Compared
to some of his classmates in the Malay school he was in Mersing, he did
very well indeed.
His nine children, five boys and four girls, on the whole, are doing
quite well. Three of the boys and two of the girls have gone to the university
and are now gainfully employed. One of the boys, the youngest is, at the
moment, still studying. Two girls, who are married, were not interested in
going to the university and one boy is now studying at ITM, pursuing a
course in photography. The saddest part is one of the girls who qualified as
a lawyer, is ill, after doing quite well in her chosen career. We hope and pray
that she will recover soon.
304 | AHMAD HASSAN

22 December 1995
Blue jeans from America came and became popular in this country, as far
as I can remember, when I was still in school in the early fifties. I think we
used to call them ‘seluar Yankee’ – Yankee being the name referred to the
American cowboys. After that, all pants with tight backside and narrow
bottom were referred to as ‘seluar Yankee’.
As far back as I can remember, I have seen so many changes
occurred in the shape and style of trousers. There was a time when trousers
were small at the waist, baggy at around the thigh and very narrow at the
ankle – with turn-up bottoms. Then they became tight at the hips, tight at
the knees and broad at the ankle – referred to as the bell-bottom. By now,
the turn-ups disappeared. Belts, too, played the game of ‘now-you-see-it
and-now-you-don’t’. When belts were out of fashion, trouser waist saw
buckles, zips or plain nothing. I can still remember when young men liked
to wear these baggy around the thigh with small bottom leg trousers made
from a material called sharkskin. The sharkskin, white in colour, very
smooth and shining, looked very sharp, especially when pressed nicely.
When I was very young, I used to admire them trousers but I couldn’t afford
one as they were considered expensive. In fact, at that time, I could not
afford to buy any kind of long pants.
I think my first pair of long pants was given to me by Mak Som,
when I was about 15. It was a white cotton pair bought at a clothes bazaar
in Selegie Road, Singapore. I can’t remember how much it cost. I think it
cost about 7 or 8 ringgit. I started wearing long pants to school when I went
to English College. The school pants were white cotton. By then, I had two
or three pairs of them, which I washed and ironed personally every week.
At that time, I was beginning to be conscious of what people wore, in other
words, ‘fashion’ but as I could not afford to buy them, it was just admiring

them that I did a lot. It was not until my brother ‘Abang’ started working
and began to give me money that I began to have some money to buy a few
things that I had always wanted.
And then, there was a time when boys in my school were going to
work during school holidays in the British Army camps in Singapore. These
boys were talking about how they could earn a lot of money by working
there. They also showed off what they bought with the money – clothes,
shoes and so on. When I saw this, I was attracted to join them. So one
school holiday, I followed these boys to the Army Camp called the BOAD
in Sembawang, Singapore. I had to get up very early to catch the truck that
would take us from JB to the camp. The truck was waiting for us at the
Johor end of the causeway. We packed ourselves into the truck, for there
were so many of us, regular workers and we, the extras from schools. The
journey took about half an hour and when we reached the camp, we rushed
for the work pass - a metal disc with a number on it. Only those who got
the discs were allowed into the camp to work. Normally, most people go
get the discs. On my first day, a friend got it for me and as I wasn’t sure of
what to do, I stayed close to him and followed what he did. At the gate, the
security people checked our discs. Once we were inside, we were made to
squat down in rows on the parade ground. Then a chap, a British soldier
would pick a row and ask them to follow him. On my first day, my row
which consisted of about 6 persons, including my friend, was picked up by
this young soldier. We followed him into a truck and were taken to a huge
yard containing rows and rows of tyres. I had never seen so many tyres, of
all sizes, in my life. Our job was to either move or arrange the tyres in rows
according to size. We also had to load the tyres onto a truck to be taken
somewhere else.
Lunch break was for an hour and lunch was served in a central
canteen, where you could choose what you wanted to eat from a variety of
local food served. You ordered what you wanted and signed for the food.
You needn’t pay for it at that time. The amount will be deducted from your
pay at the end of the day. Yes, you were paid daily. Just before you left the
camp, you queued up for your pay. An envelope containing your pay was
given to you at the hatch before you left the camp. If I’m not mistaken, we
were paid RM3 a day. After deducting our lunch expenses, we would be
getting about RM2 a day. So, if you worked for about 20 days, you would
get an average of RM40. That was a good sum to earn at that time. With
306 | AHMAD HASSAN

that kind of money, you could buy yourselves clothes or other things that
you fancied. In my case, I bought some clothes and used part of the money
for my school expenses. I only went to work here once, during one school
holiday. After that, I didn’t go anymore because it wasn’t easy to get the
work pass. More and more regular workers were engaged and they seemed
to control the distribution of the work passes.

26 December 1995
Yesterday was Christmas Day. Christmas Days nowadays are rather quiet.
Except for the heavy decorations in big shopping complexes and big hotels,
you may not be aware that Christmas Day is being celebrated. As a boy,
living near Lido Beach in JB, where we were almost surrounded by Mat
Sallehs, we couldn’t help being affected by their celebrations. Every year, the
Mat Sallehs would be celebrating Christmas with parties and get-togethers
and we, the native children, would be watching from across the fence at all
the goings-on. They could be drinking, singing and dancing, oblivious to
the people from the kampong watching them.
It was here that I first heard Christmas songs, and later I began to
hear more when I was in England. Maybe, at that time, I knew the tunes
and then when I was in England, I began to know the words. So, when I
was invited to Christmas parties in England, I was able to join them in the
singing. In fact, when I was in Mersing, after the war, I used to hear this
particular song which I quite liked and used to hum it. It was played by the
British Army when they put up cinema shows on the padang for the local
people to see. Before the show, they used to play this song. It must have
been during Christmas time. I later found out that the tune was “Silent
Night”.
After being exposed to so many Christmas songs, especially when I
was in England, I began to like singing them. I like the music and to me, it’s
just nice music to sing. I remember once when I was working with ICL, the
computer company, I was attending this party put up by the staff. It was in
a way, a Christmas party, and towards the end of it, those who were
Christians were singing carols and Christmas songs. Naturally, I was singing
along with them. Many of them were surprised at my ability to know most
of the songs. The Malays, of course, were wondering what the heck I was
308 | AHMAD HASSAN

doing, singing Christian songs while the Christians were fascinated and, I
suppose, pleased. They later asked me where I learnt the songs, then I told
them of my exposure to them. One of the chaps started singing solo
“Mary’s Boy Child” made famous by Harry Belafonte. Hardly halfway
through he stopped as he couldn’t remember the words. Then, to the
delight of everybody, I continued and finished the song. Yes, I remember
the words.

28 December 1995
Yesterday afternoon, while I was working on the computer, I heard the

phone ringing. I quickly answered it and the voice I heard on the other side
was that of a young boy’s. He asked me if he could speak to Aisah.
Obviously, he got the wrong number. I asked him “Aisah mana?”. When he
heard that, he realised he made a mistake and instead of saying sorry, he
said in anger “Aisah, mak engkau lah!” and banged the phone. I was shocked.
I was upset the whole afternoon. It was not so much at what the boy said,
but more at what is happening now in the upbringing of children by many
parents, especially Malay parents.
In spite of the emphasis being given to religious practices now, the
children seemed to have lost the essence of the Malay politeness that we are
known for. Where have we gone wrong? I feel that our religious teachers
and more so the parents themselves, seem to put emphasis more on
religious rituals rather than religious values. The children are put through
rigorous training in ‘sembahyang’, ‘mengaji’, ‘puasa’, ‘naik haji’ and so on and
not much is put on things like the good social values expected of everyone
living in society like ours today. “Cleanliness is next to Godliness”; so
believes Islam. But look at the conditions of many of our Muslim houses
and kampongs. Even personal cleanliness, too, is not given much thought. I
think the concept of ‘najis’, ‘halal’, ‘haram’, etc must also equate to present-
day conditions.
When I was in the religious school in JB, I was taught to understand
that Islam covers every aspect of life, especially emphasising the good values
in society. The way I see what the so-called religious people do today is to
emphasise the afterlife. The favourite saying is “Dunia ini hanya sementara saja.
Akhirat juga yang kekal.” Well, that may be so, but there is no reason why we
should not enjoy and appreciate the world while we are still in it. Wasn’t it
310 | AHMAD HASSAN

Nabi Muhamad S.A.W. who said that we should enjoy the world as if we
are going to live forever and pray as if we are going to die tomorrow? The
problem with us is that we either emphasise one and forget the other. I
honestly feel that the teaching of Islam must also be related to what’s going
on around us. We often hear our leaders talking about Islamic ways. What
do they really mean by that? Does it mean that the Islamic ways are only
preparing oneself for the afterlife? Astaraghfirullaha’lazim.

30 December 1995
I am writing this while watching the film “The Piano” on TV. What’s
interesting about this is that I was watching the same film in Adelaide a year
ago when I felt sleepy before the film was over and I decided to go to bed.
It was while I was lying in bed that I began to feel the pain in my chest. That
was the beginning of my heart-by-pass operation. Now, watching the film
again brings my memory back to that memorable night.
As I mentioned earlier, my interest in music started when I was very
young. I don’t know if I had seen a piano before I went to the English
school. I might have but I can’t remember where. But I remember the first
opportunity I had to really touch the piano keys. It was in Bukit Zahrah
school. There was a piano in the school hall. Every time I went there either
on my own or with the rest of the class, I would take the opportunity to
touch the piano keys. Later, when I was more senior in the school, I was
brave enough to not only touch the piano keys but even attempt to strike
them into a tune. I was already able to play the mouth organ or the
harmonica then, so with that knowledge, I more or less knew the position
of the high and the low notes on the piano. Much later, I was able to play a
tune!
312 | AHMAD HASSAN

31 December 1995
For the past 364 days and an equal number of pages, I have been writing
every day about my life, what I have gone through from as far back as I can
remember, much of which brings back old memories, some sweet, some
sad and some funny. Today, being the last day of the year, I am going to
wrap up what I have written so far and maybe start thinking of what I am
going to do next year.
At the moment of writing this, Soraya, my granddaughter is sitting
next to me doing her work. We are sitting under the porch in front of the
house. Ariff has just joined us and now the three of us are sitting here, each
doing his work. My two grandchildren never stop asking questions. The
funny thing about children is that they ask questions and they expect to get
the kind of answers they would like to hear – so humour them.
What a beautiful day it is today. The weather is just beautiful with
gentle wind blowing and birds chirping in the trees. And above all, my two
grandchildren are with me. Seldom have I had an opportunity like this. It is
indeed a blessing from Allah that my last page is written in such a situation
when I am indeed feeling so happy. Alhamdulillah!

314 | AHMAD HASSAN
Messages from Ahmad’s children and grandchildren
July 2023

Message from Azhar Ahmad (Ahmad’s son)
My father has been a central figure in my life since I had a conscious

memory. I hero-worshipped him when I was small and still hold him in high
regard until now. He was the person I aspired to be when I grew older, the
wise-cracking, popular man, full of funny stories to those who cared to
listen (and there were many), with many friends from all social standings.
He was also a strict disciplinarian, not entertaining indiscipline from his
children and his students and on a few occasions, I was on the receiving
end of his ire. He is always forgiving though and lavished us with love and
laughter, gifts and kindness. He has always been there when we needed him
and for that, I love and cherish him and in his already long life and vast
experience, we give thanks to God Almighty for bestowing this man as our
father and mentor, Alhamdulillah. May you have many more years with us,
Bah!
Message from Azman Ahmad (Ahmad’s son)
6 August 1934. This was the time of the world economic depression. In
between two World Wars. Hitler was the German Chancellor. On the other
side of the world, the Europeans were in control of much of the tropics,
caring little about how the natives would fare in times of war or peace. They
were bent on reaping the fruits of the earth even if they would later poison
it and let the locals starve. This was the world my father was born into.
When the relatives were the ones who looked after him, he coped. When
his cousins put baby crabs into his shirt pocket, he coped. When he and
family members walked miles to safety, he coped. And when his mother
died, he coped. He has been coping in his calm unassuming way most of
this time. I think what is fascinating is some of us carry our forebears'
experienced trauma. It may not be just bleak, negative events. It is what's
known as a coping mechanism. How we adjust ourselves and deal with life's
events. Under the circumstances, he has coped very well. And he has in one
way or another taught us all to cope too. It has been an amazing life. This
is my father.
316 | AHMAD HASSAN

Message from Soraya Azhar (Ahmad’s granddaughter)
My Tok is a fascinating, respectful, outgoing and admirable man. He and

Nek have been a constant presence in all my 36 years of life, always there
and supportive at my most important life events, happy or sad ones. Tok
and Nek are very loving, generous and proud of their family. Tok was so
excited that I shared the same interest in playing piano as him, he bought
me a piano when I first took my piano lessons at the age of 8 or 9 years old.
Besides music, we share a common interest in reading and travelling. Other
admirable talents of his that I can not replicate are drawing/ painting and
public speaking. Tok is a very confident public speaker and loves to humour
people with his jokes. His outgoing and confident manner always makes
him the centre of attention. He is also very proud and fond of his teaching
career. Reading his journal, I admire his persistence, resilience and courage
to overcome all the odds from being a kampung boy to an important
contributor to the transformation of the country’s education. Thank you
Tok for sharing your life journey with us and inspiring us to push ourselves
to be the best at what we do. I am forever grateful and proud to have you
and Nek as my grandparents. I love you and hope that you are pleased that
we finally printed your journal nicely into a book as a gift on your 89th
birthday.
Message from Mohammed Ariff Azhar (Ahmad’s grandson)
My grandfather is one of the most interesting person I know. He has tons

of stories and life lessons that would glue you to your seat for hours. He
has led a very eventful life, making tons of friends everywhere he goes,
some of who would go on to become central figures in the growth of our
country. Everywhere he goes, he becomes the centre of attention as people
flock by to listen to him speak. Not to mention, some incredibly original
and humorous jokes would follow suit. On top of being the life of the party,
my grandfather is also someone who values family above all else. I
remember going to his house as a child and he would entertain us to no
end. Now that he has a great-grandson as well, I can see an ever more gentle
and nurturing side of him whenever he interacts with my son. I could see
in his eyes how happy he was to see the joyful and cheery face of my son,

lighting up his already brightly shining life. Despite being the wise and
intelligent person that he is, my grandfather has not always had an easy life.
He was a person who had nothing, growing up quite poor in war-torn
Malaya. He had to strive and work hard to get to where he is. All the
sacrifices made shaped him to become the man I know, someone whom I
greatly respect and admire. I sincerely hope that you will enjoy this book,
as I’m sure it will be an interesting read. I hope that you will get to know
about my grandfather just as I have known him. One day, he won’t be of
this world any longer, but his stories will live on forever in our hearts.
Message from Siti Zahrah Azman (Ahmad’s granddaughter)
Many people have helped shape me into the person I am today, but nobody
has had a greater influence than my grandpa. Over the years, Tok’s endless
kindness, attentiveness and support have helped me learn the greatest
lesson of all–to always be true to myself. Growing up, seeing Tok make
time for his many passions, whether it be art, literature or music,
encouraged me to discover the same things that made life enjoyable. My
fondest memories will always be our many trips to the bookstore; I’ll always
remember the excitement of holding my grandpa’s hand and talking about
the books we looked forward to reading. He is also easily the best
conversationalist I know–his sharp wit and infinite wisdom always mean he
is ready with a hilarious joke or fascinating anecdote at hand, and time
seems to fly by whenever we talk. I think he was always destined to be an
educator, as he encouraged my curiosity for any topic my mind stumbled
upon, and was always generous with advice and guidance anytime I asked.
Tok, I am forever thankful to have such a loving and strong grandpa to
look up to, and I hope there are many more birthdays to celebrate just how
amazing you are. I love you, and I hope you have a great 89th birthday.
318 | AHMAD HASSAN

Message from Muhammad Ilham Azman (Ahmad’s grandson)
We all love our mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. After them, we
should always give our love to our beloved grandparents. Here are a few
words I have to say about Ahmad Hassan, my dear grandfather. Our
grandfather is one of the most interesting people I know. I always hear
intriguing stories about him from my father and mother, and what he used
to do back then. These stories were out of this world for me. I would never
imagine these scenarios happening to me today. I also admire how he keeps
his brain exercised through various card and board games, and his keenness
to be up to date with what his direct and extended family are doing. And
we cannot forget how generous he is to his family. Whenever he sees his
grandchildren, he never forgets to spoil them with various gifts such as
beautiful paintings, clothes, and food. He has us all on his mind, and on his
most recent visit, he would always ask us how we were all doing. Thus, I
am truly grateful to have a grandfather like our dear Tok. Have a great 89th
birthday!
Message from Ahmad Umar Azman (Ahmad’s grandson)
Assalaamualaikum Tok. This is Umar. I am so happy it is finally about to be

your 89th birthday and that I will write this message to you. When you first
came to our house with Nek, I felt really happy and excited as I have not
seen you in such a long time ever since I visited yours and Nek's house. It
felt really calming for me when I could come to your room at night, when
I put on TV shows for Nek in the living room, and that one time we went
shopping together! I even watched you play cards! That game was really
awesome and you seemed to be really good at it! But moreover, you have
always been a generous grandfather who cares so much about me and
everyone else. I am very grateful to have such a kind grandfather. Thank
you, Tok. Have a great 89th birthday!

The Story of My Life - Ahmad Hassan (1.9.2023)

Uploaded by

Document Information

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

The Story of My Life - Ahmad Hassan (1.9.2023)

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

The Story of Tok

Written by Ahmad Hassan in 1995

This is not a diary.

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |1

SS5081, JA9011, JA2626, NB3673, NC4029, BW7157, CD7676,

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |3

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |5

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |7

On my return home yesterday, I was told that Ati (Hayati, my brother’s

THE CORDLESS PHONE

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |9

My appointment with the physiotherapist was at 8:30 this morning. There

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |11

BLOWING THE CONDOMS!

Today after my physiotherapy session, we stopped at the Alpha Angle. I

TALKING TO THE FORM FIVE

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |13

MEETING THE PM’S WIFE

At the physiotherapy clinic this morning, while waiting for my therapy

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |15

SCHOOL DURING JAPANESE OCCUPATION

Despite the hardships we faced during the Japanese Occupation, we still

THE HOUSE WITH ATTAP WALLS

After my circumcision and I was completely healed, I returned to Mersing

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |17

My stepfather was a teacher in a religious school. That’s why we all called

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |19

LOST IN THE JUNGLE

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |21

THE MARRIAGE OF MY FATHER AND MOTHER

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |23

Everybody called my great-grandmother ‘Cek’. My grandmother, my

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |25

‘Ki’ (from ‘Tok Ki’ meaning grandfather) was a fascinating man. As I

I said earlier that Ki was not my real great-grandfather. He married my great-

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |27

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |29

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |31

THE BLIND KORAN TEACHER

THE LONG WALK

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |33

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |35

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |37

THE REUNION WITH MY FAMILY

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |39

My paternal grandmother, Tok, was thin and straight. Although slight in

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |41

A TRIP TO BATU TIGA

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |43

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |45

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |47

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |49

ENTRANCE EXAM TO ENGLISH SCHOOL

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |51

THE NGEE HENG PRIMARY SCHOOL

In January 1947, I began my English school education – the first person to

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |53

BUKIT ZAHRAH SCHOOL

THE HOUSE NEAR LIDO BEACH

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |55

MOVING TO PAK NGAH WAHID’S HOUSE

It was at about this time that Cek, my great-grandmother went to live in

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |57