Slow-golf syndrome.

 Sat 1.2.2025

In my almost 40 years of golf, I saw plenty of it and am sick of it.

Golf's still 18 holes, 14 clubs, and holing the round ball in as few strokes as possible. Other than that, the 2 world-ruling authorities of the Royal & Ancient St. Andrews and USGA have, since 1400, been trying to, at different times,   work together / fight each other; speed / obstruct changes;  cause confusion, exasperation and condemnation  to the players who are living off the game / turned off by it; who  swear by / swear at it.  

A few years back Greg Norman had been trying to change world golf focus from USA  to non-USA, aided by  the deep-pocketed Arab sponsors. Money changes things. That's been applied to sports before. It worked. Now better things are coming to golf ?

In the last 600-plus years the game itself went through many changes:  the size and make of the ball - even in my own experience I went from 1.62" to 1.68", with different number of dimples and all the colours of the rainbow ; the clubs - from steel-shafted woods that were real wood to all kinds of alloy shafts with all kinds of club heads made from everything except wood; from steel spikes to palstic studs on the shoe-soles; the dress-code for different sexes - long sleeve with tie for men, and knee-length dress and socks for women, to now whatever you like, man or woman - only tuck in that  damn shirt !; the number of holes; the size of the field (the number of players). 

Today the last one change that has been the longest overdue and yet easiest to impose is finally on the authority's plate. Slow play.

Surely, this is the one curse that needs no magic spell to remove. 

The problem is, unlike other sports, there is no rigid time frame each time a golf match is run. Football (I mean soccer), rugger, hockey et el  have it;  the racquet-sports have it, in terms of the intervals between sets; all water-sports have it. Not golf.

Of late, on some golf tours, the officials threatened to penalise players  for "slow play" decided by the watching marshal. I'm yet to see one. 

You have to experience it, like I have, to know the pain of it. And the worse part would be to play behind a maddening slow flight, but in front of an equally maddening fast flight !

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Halim Dato' Ibrahim.

 Sat 1.2.2025

The last time I met Halim must have been at least 5 years ago, at SIGC. We'd never played together, but once in a while we'd see each other with our own different partners at the club. He always played with the late Zul, Muhsin's f.i.l. Last week Ajit texted about Halim's passing.

The connection was Bukit Temensu. 

Halim was Kayah's husband. Kayah is probably my age, because we sat for our LCE the same year (1960). Wan Esah (Kayah's grandmother) saw me and asked how I did in the exams, and I said I got 3 A's, and she said Kayah also got 3 A's. I never found out what Kayah's score was, because she was in TKS, while I was in TMS.

Kayah is Tengku Rokayah Tengku Fakharuddin. She had a younger sister from the same parents - Tengku Hasnah. We know her in Bukit Temensu as "Tekwa" - short for "cantik lawa" (very pretty). Probably because she's fair, like Wan Zarah, the mother. Kayah was slightly less fair, taller, and has a different facial look than Tekwa. I guess it's the father's side.

Kayah went on to work in a bank. Halim was a senior police officer whose father was once the CPO of Kelantan. Where they met, I don't know, but in the late 70's we found ourselves in the same place - Damansara Utama. I eventually moved to Seremban, and would you believe it, so did they. Tewkwa married Cikgu Sulan's army officer son. I don't know where they are now.

Tengku Fakharuddin sadly died tragically during the "14-day" Communist rule immediately after the Japanese surrender and before the British Administration re established rule of law.

Wan Zarah remarried twice. The second one produced Man, an only son, who now lives in a smaller house built in the same compound as the grand ol' house that still stands, though in disrepair, in that vast piece of land. This marriage ended in divorce, I think. Then she married Dr. Jeremaih, the only private practice in the whole of Kuala Pilah for donkey's years. It was said that every time an epidemic occurred, like influenza or small pox, the doctor "printed money". He had a large house opposite my parents' house (built later), before building a huge mansion near Kg. Parit. Being the only private clinic in town, Wan Zarah must have frequented it, because she eventually married the good doctor. They had an only daughter who grew up to also become a doctor, and a specialist to boot. The marriage didn't last long, and the daughter never got married.

KP being KP in the 60's, there was so little traffic on the Jalan Tampin that in the late evenings Kayah and Tekwa would join us boys playing "galah adang" on the road !

That grand ol' house also has memories for me. 

Once I attended a birthday party or something, with food and music and  dancing. I remember Mak Cik Zizah declining photographer Tony from "Bee Choon" who asked her for a dance. She danced with me instead. Tony emigrated to Australia. Mak Cik Zizah died at about 90, still single. 

Another time was when I was already working in Alor Gajah, and came back to attend a wedding there. It must have been Kayah's because this was 1968. There I met Raja Alias, who my dad introduced me to. Dad said "he's from LKTP (Felda)". A few months later I joined Felda and stayed for 21 years. That was when I bought the Damansara Utama house, just like Kayah. And Halim Dato' Ibrahim. 

Small world. Long memories.

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Hank's new car.

Wed 22.1.2025.

There are two old cars in my porch right now. One is already 31 years old. The other is slightly younger - 20.  That was how I got to talk to Sam in December about finding a replacement for one or both of them. There's nothing seriously, mechanically wrong with them. They're just old.

Then I mentioned it to Hank. He wanted one, too, immediately. It looks almost certain now that Hank will get his first.

Early this month Sam said he'd found a car, in Taiping. It belongs to "his childhood friend", a retired Prison Officer. Apparently he can't drive much now because of lower limbs weakness because of his age, and a heart condition. Sam has seen the car, and remembers that it's in good repairs. But he could recheck this if I was serious about it.

We had to attend Md. Sham's funeral prayers on 13/1, Hank and I. Since we finished at the Damansara Heights mosque around 11 a.m., Hank agreed at my suggestion that we meet Sam straightaway, and discuss the car-purchase in Shah Alam, somewhere.

Sam agreed to meet us, although he had planned to do some work on one of his many cars. 

The problem was they decided to change the hotel's name to something quite different. "Waze" couldn't help, and my memory didn't also, although 15 years ago I frequented Shah Alam because Dekna was doing her 4-year law courses here. Sam had no problem getting to the renamed hotel initially suggested by me as our rendezvous. He remembers the location, unlike me. Well, there were several exchanges on the our phones, and finally we met at the roadside, at a location Sam suggested.

What was agreed was for Sam to get the car so that we could view it in Shah Alam before the arrival of Ramadan in 6 weeks.

Sam went to Taiping to bring the car to Shah Alam on Sunday, 19.1.2025. He called me Monday; I called Hank immediately, and at 12.30 we left for, again, Shah Alam. I told Sam we'll meet in Shah Alam in 2 hours time, with concern for a work-day traffic everywhere, I was right. I saw (I was driving, as usual) the Pejabat Pos Besar Shah Alam, with it's ample parking, and stopped there, and called Sam straigt away. 

PKK 8238 is a Mercedes Benz 1.8 Compressor C Class. It's  15 years old. We went all over it, inside out, Hank drove it on the Highway. Everybody agreed that the car is in excellent condition, and would be a good buy. Sam even managed to get 10% off the original  price.

All agreed that this sale is a done deal. Hank agreed to full settlement in 2 weeks.

Otherwise, as I told Sam, I'll buy the car.

Addendum 31.1.25

Yesterday Hank regretfully declined the hitherto agreed purchase for several unexpected reasons. I've now offered to take over. Let's see where this ends.

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Datuk Mohammad Sham 20.8.1945 - 13.1.2025

 Mon 13.1.2025

It saddens me that this early this year, and in this holy month of Rejab, I had to receive this unhappy news of a friend of  64 years, at 4.30 in the morning, being called to Almighty Allah. I checked the "Who's Where" and got his birth date. Md. Sham was 79 years and 4 months old.

We were not in the same company at RMC, but kept close company when I was in Felda HQ in the 70's and he was from our auditors. Long canteen sessions at 10 am or thereabout got us sharing jokes most week days, for a long time. Felda's massive accounts took care of that. I moved on, and he moved out - to England and other companies and so forth. When I somehow got involved in the ex-FMC PD activities, we met again, and I enjoyed his company again, and I hoped he enjoyed mine.

This was the Pontian boy who was  sent by his rubber-tapper dad to school early, at only 5. This was the retired company director who had completed his studies in London, became very successful on his return, and owned luxurious homes in expensive Bukit Jelutung and Damansara Heights simultaneously. 

I remember his love for "ikan baung" and old Mazni took 2 car loads of us to the Kuala Linggi restaurant that serves fresh ikan baung  from the adjacent Linggi river. He  loved  hot Negeri cooking, and I brought him and a few others to the "Rimba" at Lavender Heights, Seremban, for its famous "masak lomak lado api". Always generous, each time he alone took care of the tab. 

This was also the Budak Boy who made our meetings fresh with his  commentary and frequent contradictions of ND's assessments. But it was always in good spirits and constructive.

A few years back I got to be somehow involved in getting the durian supply for our year-end celebrations, and he being the Treasurer, we got connected up again. It wasn't as simple as it sounds. The durians were not cheap, and the supply was not automatically guaranteed.  And the last gathering we had on 15.12.2024 was extra problematic. The fruit was out of season in all the familiar sources, and Md. Sham was sick in bed.

Hank and I visited him Sunday 7th December at his Damansara Heights house, to find him lying in bed, with the breathing aid on. We wanted to clear the purchase arrangements for the durians we finally located. I felt bad, visiting him sick in bed, and me, trying to sort out some petty matters, when his health issues outweighed everything else. He was gasping for breath, and I was trying to get his agreement for part of the purchase made.  But I did impress on his wife how sorry I was to see him in that distressing condition.

My golfing friends had fixed a game for this morning. I'd packed my gear last night, so that this morning I'd just get into the car to be at the club before 7 am. When I received the tragic news on whatsapp , I decided that the game would have to be cancelled. Checking my phone before I stood for my Fajr prayers, I got Hank's message "we'll leave at 7.30". He just assumed that I'd also got the news, and I would join him for Md.Sham's funeral prayers. He was right, of course. 

Hank was worried that "Waze" had been confused in the route set for Masjid Saidina Omar al Khattab, because it took us through "Jalan Kuchai Lama" and "Petaling Jaya" and so on. It was 9.30 and the prayers were set for 10. I just ignored his suggestion that I override and take the Bangsar route ourselves. Hank had been wrong when we went to RMC once, and he called ND and said we were lost, because the road signs said all kinds of road names but no "Sg. Besi". I said it  was all part of the route. I was driving then, just as I was driving today. We reached our RMC destination in good time then. We reached the mosque, wasted several minutes trying to get parking space in the already filled up area, and were still several minutes before the prayers were performed in the end. 

I estimated no less than 300 people stood for Md Sham's final funeral service. It's not a number that he would have been ashamed of.  How many percent of the crowd was his old RMC mates ? There were very many of them. I spoke to Asmat, Rizal Sardon, Khamis Awal, Shahruddin, ND, Nor Shaari, Halim,  and  saw Halim Ali and Mahbob  and others. We were all there, Md. Sham. We will all  miss you.

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Acam

 Sun 22.12.2024

Acam is my younger sister, third in the sibling hierarchy, and the oldest girl. She was a teacher's college graduate, and the only one who took up the teaching profession after our late father. She's retired now and lives with Karim, her husband, in Gombak. They used to live in Batu Arang, Rawang and Greenwood Park. Karim is also retired. Their two children, Eti the girl, and Ijat the boy, are both married with children of their own, staying in their own houses around the city.

When we were small in Bukit Temensu, there was one Karim Md. Nor, who stayed in the same kampong. Karim later did his PhD in Wisconsin, USA, where I visited him when attending Calit's graduation in the same university. Karim died just on his retirement in Taman Bukti, Seremban, some 20 years ago. All of us in the two families knew each other well. I used to play badminton in front of Karim's house in the evening. The house front yard, lined with split bamboo strips, served as our badminton court. We used to share  money to buy the "Bluebird" shuttlecocks we would play with our "Dunlop" rackets, until practically all the feathers were gone. Naturally we, the siblings would tease Acam, hooking her with Karim. Acam would get annoyed. That only made us tease her more.  In the end Acam did marry one Karim, but this one is from Rantau.

On Thursday 12.12.2024 Acam finally had her much post-poned bypass heart operation done at the IJN. Idah and I, together with Dekna, visited her at home last Friday evening. She was discharged from IJN Thursday 19.12.2024.

It was all a great ending, with the major heart operation successfully done. It's not something to look lightly upon. There  was a trying as well as tiring sequence of events.  First she was admitted to Hospital Pusrawi, just across the Tun Razak road from IJN, for knee problems. The heart condition was discovered there, and that demanded immediate treatment before anything about the knees could be done. Pusrawi couldn't do it. Acam was pushed to Serdang, which is supposed to replace IJN for government servants like her, IJN having been "privitised". But Serdang offered more heartache. They couldn't even get a bloody bed for her, much less medical attention ! Karim somehow got her admitted to IJN. Then she was discharged, but readmitted  Tuesday 10.12.2024, and an operation very quickly scheduled for the next day. But that was postponed to Thursday. She had veins taken from her thigh and calf, had 3 blockages cleared and stems inserted. Karim somehow managed to get the bill discounted, but the 80 K wasn't, of course, cheap. The prior agreement to pay the estimated 100K  wanted by IJN was the reason for the final admission to IJN.

We had trouble locating the Gombak house. Finally Dekna got Ijat to give the address, and after the horrendous Friday evening KL traffic, we reached the house gates about 3 hours after leaving Seremban. And I've been here many times before ! The developments in the area, including the big house now occupying the empty plot next door that used to be my guide before, made the trip impossible without "waze".

Idah had been insistent that the visit was quickly made. In the last month we had in fact visited Acam both at Pusrawi and the earlier IJN admission. But having successfully undergone the bypass, Idah wanted to see Acam for herself again.

Karim was waiting for us by the time we arrived. Ijat had called him. Idah and Dekna spent time with Acam. I said to her to rest and recover before she did anything else with her knees. We had to take our leave because it was getting late, and we didn't know how bad the traffic would be, this being a weekend.

We left Seremban at 6 p.m. We reached home at midnight.

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The durian feast at RMC.

 Tues 17.12.2024.

I should call it "FMC (1952-1966) Budak Boys' Get-together, Sunday 15th December 2024". But getting the durians was the only assignment given to me and Hank, and it wasn't as smooth-sailing as you think, and so I choose this title. And because of the durians on Sunday, and the 5-hour golf in the extraordinary heat yesterday (the game couldn't be avoided - it was fixed last week), I ended up with a bad cough, and a near-collapsing fatigue by the time I came home at almost 3 pm.  

The reunion was not the first one for us, the "FMC group". We held one such "Remembrance Day" for many years, only broken up  by the Covid 19 episode. This is the "FMC" boys, because"Federation Military College" became "Royal Military College" in 1966. In fact we started this thing confining ourselves only to the Port Dickson intakes, 1952 - 1961. In April 1962 the College moved to the first RMC camp in Sungai Besi. Years later (can't remember the date) the College moved to its present camp in Bukit Belimbing, just next door.

Not long ago we realised that the 1952-1961 group was fast dwindling. So it was decided that we extend the group's life by making it the "FMC" group, because now we can go for 5 more years. But this now looks also like we're destined, by definition. for closure, because 1966 is static,too.

That made my presence on Sunday important for me. I'd just turned 80 exactly 10 days ago. But I drove myself, and walked without a cane. Many were driven by spouses or sons, and many came with walking sticks - wheel chairs, even, like Michael Tan. Some without walking sticks no longer stand erect, like Mori,taking step by careful step, and all accepting aid from the many current BB's who were enlisted to help, especially walking up the steps.  

ND printed it as "durian fest" on the brochure, when I use the word "feast". But it refers to the same adjective regarding a large eating ceremony. 250 durians at 2 kg. each wasn't the largest durian gathering I've seen, but against the 150 BB's and spouses, and the current BB's giving their help, it was big enough to earn the "feast" description.

But what transpired before the arrival of the blessed durians, only a few of us knew.

It was not easy this time, because the durians are not in season. I scoured around Seremban, Jalan Jelebu (as  Jelebu itself - this was one source still not tested), Kuala Pilah (my source last time), Segamat, Nilai, Mantin and finally the Triang source two years ago, and all came to naught. We had 1 week left before throwing the towel. Then ND said he found a supplier in Paya Jaras. Phew !

One trip with ND got us talking to the supplier, and an order was placed for 200 durians, at RM4,500. 

But  later that day I found out that MS had actually paid a RM1,500 deposit for durians from his own source. You see, right from the beginning, Hank and I were made clear about our mission, and MS knows this, and in an earlier exchange on our phone we had taken stock of our positions, logistically. But I had never received any information from him about the RM1,500. The monetary part of this whole thing must clear MS's desk, because he was going to transfer the funds, as Treasurer of our group. I needed to get clarification from MS.  I'd committed myself to the Paya Jaras supplier.

I couldn't get any MS's response before the first Paya Jaras trip. Since the first 2 exchanges with MS before this, he had not responded to my calls and  messages. After Paya Jaras I asked Halim Shah for help, because he  often talk to MS. But this time Halim also failed to get through. The last resort to me was to meet MS in his house, and clear things up. My only concern was to make sure the durians will be there on Sunday !

So Sunday 8.12.2024  Hank and I drove to MS's house in Damansara Heights. ND had given me the address. It was sad to see MS with his breathing aid, lying in bed, coughing badly, and faintly making himself heard. Later on the actual function-day Sunday, I learned that MS is in a Pantai Hospital ward. His condition must have worsened.

The short of it was, at his house MS said he sticks to his supplier (the RM1,500 deposit was confirmed), I said I stick to mine, and he'd divide the RM4K into 2 equal portions, and we each continue with our separate supplier.

Hank and I drove back to Paya Jaras immediately after MS house.  I drove. Using Waze, we went  the KL way, not the previous Subang Airport way. We went, hoping the supplier would be there, because we didn't call him first. He was.  He was the first one to lift his hand in recognition.

While Hank went somewhere first (the loo, maybe) I quickly settled for 150 durians, priced at RM3,750. Actually he delivered about 20 fruits more.

On Friday ND called to say that MS's supplier would also deliver 100 fruits, come Sunday. We both had prepared ourselves the possible non-delivery from MS source, because of his medical problems, and leaving it all to a nephew to follow-up. MS had lived up to his promise to deliver, and all the more credit to him, in the light of his serious health issues. I don't think I'd have done it myself.

In fact Sunday, when I came out of the assembly theater after Col. Rashidin called because my supplier had arrived, and the driver wanted to be paid, I ran into MS's supplier truck that had arrived, and was calling for directions from MS's nephew about where the Lake-side durian station was. I just jumped on to the truck and directed him to the spot, which wasn't far, but a vehicle needed to take a circuitous route around the car park and the parade ground from where he was at the parking area in front of the surau. But the durian feast was still about 3 hours away.

ND is nothing if not for his meticulous ways. We don't always see the hard work of planning and managing a gathering involving many activities, involving many people, covering many locations, lasting many hours all in half-a-day. Of course, we don't always genuinely appreciate it, even if we know it. There were many meetings, many participants, over many days. Alterations, right up to the final group meeting, took place. But in the end, the get-together started, and ended in the planned time frame. It wouldn't have happened without one ND. That's why Halim said ND was the "dynamo" of the whole thing. Bravo !

I don't know if there'll another one next year. ND had indicated before that he's happy to relinquish his role. Somebody like him must be found. Our BB's have been very generous with their money and time.  The College produced these successful and loyal citizens. That's why, to me, this whole thing is working.

I enjoyed this 2024 celebration. I met a few very old friends like Wan Wahid, Murni Arshad, Aba Jiwa (a nick-name I call him by), Farid Wardi, Aziz Hassan, Jusoh Daud ( last met him in 1962), Rahman Daud and many others. But I also missed some old attendees like Shahruddin Bahaudin, Mansor Salleh, Nor Shaari, Jalaluddin Hashim, Salim Rahim and Ismail Noor and some others. Even since our last gathering, we've lost a few. How many more would leave us is a sad and  tragic certainty for not the too distant future.

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It could have been horrifically worse.

 Tuesday, 10.12.2024.

My house is on top of the hill. Jalan Aman runs in front of it, and 10 meters to the right, looking out from in front of the house, is Jalan Sentosa. Jalan Sentosa runs steeply downhill for about 100 meters until it reaches the surau, where the road branches left and right. If it rains it's slippery. Yesterday it was drizzling the whole afternoon.

Both sides of Jalan Sentosa  has large monsoon drains, about waist-deep to the bottom. There's no barricade between the road and the drains. Some years ago my wife drove my Volvo 194 GE into the left drain, and I had to call the tow service to pull it out. A careless person could unknowingly walk right into either drain.

There are many office and other workers living in this housing estate. Early mornings and late evenings see many vehicles on all the internal roads here. Not all the drivers, I used to observe, are careful and courteous to other users. I had many near misses, even when not going at any speed. Hitting someone on the road here would not take much.

Habib, 3, is my youngest grandson - no. 12. He's normal-sized, active, fair-complexioned like his mother, his grandmother and late great-grandmother. He hums the songs he listens to on the tv he likes to watch. No words. Speech seems to be coming slow, though he looks intelligent. 

My wife likes to decorate the house. If anything, I think she's overdoing it. But it pleases her, so why should it bother me. Habib, though, likes the ornaments on the tables, and can't keep his hands off, and that's a bother to my wife.

Monday morning my wife said "no lunch today".  Both cooking gas cannisters were empty. 

"That's why I got the 2nd cannister" I exclaimed. "When you finish one tank, I can take time to replace it because you have a spare one. But you don't tell me that you're on the 2nd tank. This is what happens now !"

When my daughter returned from work, it was past 6 pm. While still in her office attire, I asked for her car key to get a fresh cooking gas tank. But I went without taking the empty gas tank with me. You see, the sundry shop is run by the single shopkeeper alone. He keeps irregular hours. Sometimes he just closes shop without notice. If I brought the empty tank and he's closed, then I'd have to heave the empty but heavy tank back again. But this time he was open, so I bought the gas and said I'll bring the empty tank afterwards.

I went back in my daughter's car with the empty cannister, and promptly return home. As I turn into the uphill Jalan Sentosa towards  home, I saw something moving in the middle of the road, about 50 meters ahead. "Looks like a child" I thought. As I came closer, slowing down, but needing also to keep some pressure on pedal because of the climb plus my daughter's large MPV, I saw that it was in fact a child, running towards me.

"Where the hell is the mother, leaving this child unattended  dangerously on this road ? And it's drizzling !"  I slowed down, thumping my horn, hoping that the child would move to the side. It didn't. It kept running on the slippery-looking road towards me ! What a great shock ! When I could make out the features of the smiling, yes smiling, kid, I instantly recognized him to be Habib, my grandson !! He was maybe already 50 meters from the house, right in front of Kamaruddin Basir's house.

I don't know if I jumped out or what from the car, but the engine was on and this is an automatic car. I must have put it on neutral or stopped and somehow stepped on the foot brake, and just jumped out, ran out and grabbed Habib, who kept on grinning and waving his hands about, like he always does. I wanted to put him at the back, but decided to pull him with me into the driver's seat, and held him tight, and just drove on back to the house. Anger was boiling in me.

As I turned into the patio, I hit many times on the horn. My wife and daughter took time to come out.

"Are you all stupid ? Didn't you realize Habib had come out of the house ? He'd reached the surau !!! Are you all stupid ?" I repeated several times, at the top of my voice.

My daughter took Habib from my arms, bursting into tears, while my wife cried out "Ya Allah, Ya Allah". I'd gone berserk and kept shouting, and repeating expletives.

This  was all around 6.20 - 6.30 pm.

When I did my Magrib prayers at 7.07, I cried when I said my do'a. I didn't tell anyone I'd cried. It was simply terrifying, and I was truly facing my Maker, pleading forgiveness, and at the same time offering my gratitude at a possible horror avoided.

After my Isya' prayers, at 8.20, I went looking for Habib. He was with his dad. I stroked his head several times, in silence. Truly God Showed Mercy, and I'm thankful.

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