Husain Hj. Ali. RIP

5.3.2010.

We were more than classmates from Standard 6 to Form 3 in TMS. We were soulmates. On scrutiny we were very different in a lot of ways. But somehow we were close. 

Other than those four years in TMS, we only met again in Felda where both of us worked, me for a time, him until he retired. I sent him to Bilut Valley for his wedding. Because of our different types of work, while in Felda we would meet only occasionally at the canteen. 

There were the rare telephone calls and the Hari Raya visits, very rare, too, I must confess. I would also once in a blue moon bump into his wife at her place of work, because she was also in Felda, but in Port Kelang. 

We moved in different circles. But the friendship bonded in those early years -1957 to 1960 - never lessened one bit to the very end, as far as I'm concerned. That was why I could not hold back the tears that came briefly, briefly to my eyes when I finally met up with Shamsiah on her return from the cemetry that day in Puchong Perdana, 3rd. March.

I don't know what I saw in Husain Hj. Ali,  even through all these recent years I have sometimes thought about him. I must now regret forever that I had never followed up those feelings about wanting to surprise him at his house. I have his address and his old mobile number. I even used to have his old house address at Port Klang before he moved to this Puchong house. I went there once.

We used to cycle together, just the two of us, when we were in Form 3, just about the time for LCE. We agreed that those rides should be good for our exam preparations, and it did for me. I never found out how he fared because I had left for RMC. But those long rides are etched in my memory forever. We cycled to Bemban, Senaling, when there was only a laterite road. We cycled to Kubang Rusa through Sawah Lebar and on the long, swaying wooden bridge. We even cycled to Kg. Ibol, Terachi, 18 miles away. I remember him teaching me, in one of those bicycle rounds, to pull out "lombo" from a wild palm and suck the succulent roots, and then drink water that tasted sweet because of it.

Husain was surprisingly dark-complexioned although his parents and siblings were all fair-skinned. He was good natured about the ribbings he got from me and the rest of us in school. He even recited to me a pantun that I still clearly remember to this day - 

                   "Birah hitam, keladi hitam 

                    Tanam dalam lombah 

                    Ayah hitam, omak hitam 

                    Anak mano nak semonggah" 

 Coming from Galau and schooling in Kuala Pilah in those days were a big deal, because of transportation problems. Because Hajjah Tomah Maideen ( her maiden name was Fatimah, and she married the Indian grocer, Maideen) also came from the adjacent Gunung Pasir, Hj. Ali, Husain's father, managed to secure board and lodging for him with her in Bukit Temensu, also my kampong, which is just next to TMS. 

The fact that Hj. Ali was the Qadi of Kuala Pilah at that time must have also figured, I don't know. But this I know, and Husain himself told me about it - Hajjah Tomah had designs for him. She had an only daughter, Minah. I remember Minah, a tall and not bad looking lass, product of her mixed ancestry, with high nose and jet-black hair, and not a bad complexion. But Husain said no way.  "I'll have to use a ladder. She's too tall!" 

Another time Husain had a serious attack of diarrhoea, the whole night through. He had a habit of buying "kacang putih" during class recess, emptying the whole packet into his shorts pocket. This was not a convenience trick, but a strategy. A way of avoiding sharing. We were irritated by it. But somebody finally decided to act on it, although we were all privy to the masterplan. Somehow, he managed to slip some "biji cengkian" seeds from the wild plant into his kacang putih. Now, biji cengkian looks exactly like kacang putih. However, biji cengkian is a potent laxative. So there was Husain, happily dipping into his pocket and popping both kacang putih and biji cengkian into his mouth, and grinning around him because he didn't have to share with anyone, and there we were, grinning back at him, knowing our plan had succeeded.

Later he told me he had such a bad case of explosive diarrhoea he stayed up all night leaning against a coconut three outside Hajjah Tomah's house, spurting !.

Dear Husain, forgive me for remembering the inappropriate in this solemn hour. But this was a fond memory for me, and you have always been a fond friend. May Allah Bless you, my friend. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------