Najib's daughter's wedding.

29.3.2015.

I've just returned from Najib's daughter's wedding at PWTC to-day. It was befitting a PM's khenduri, the set-up, decor and presentations. I was told the PM had catered for 20,000 guests !

The TWO, yes, two invitation cards I received told me I'd better attend. But because I was determined to go by bus, Idah backed out. I said people are trying to avoid traffic. The bus takes you to the Central Market LRT, where the LRT Kelana Jaya Line  takes you to the Mesjid Jame' interchange and you take the LRT Sentul Line that stops at PWTC right on the doorstep of the wedding reception.

I left Seremban early, giving myself two hours for the journey and a walkabout at KL Sentral. I had breakfast at the "Swiss Oven" with some chaps with the Formula 1 Teams from Sepang, and I walked about, and was still 15 minutes early. It was just as well, because I was able to enter the "Dewan Merdeka", and not "Dewan Tun Razak 1,2 &3" where it was buffet style. At "Dewan Merdeka" we were set 8 to a table. Those who came later had to be diverted to the other venues.

The musical interlude was pleasant, especially the young choir and dance troupe. They were tastefully dressed in Malay costume, and being children, all looked cute, made highly visible on the multiple huge screens strategically placed throughout the PWTC.  The crowd was typically Malaysian, of course, stingy with the  applause. In fact I was the only one clapping at my table.

The couple looked resplendent in their Malay costumes. The groom seemed serious, though, while the bride was chatty, now and then turning and saying something to her new husband.

Although we were set at the table, with the dome and all that, all around the hall there were also stalls offering all kinds of mee and laksa, teh tarik and cendul, and cakes. In fact when the ceremonies were finally started at half-past one, after the reciting of do'a and the newly-wed had joined the others on the bridal table, I noticed those close to the stalls had started to pick up their laksas etc, so I joined them. So I had Penang laksa before I dug into my nasi beriani.

I didn't wait for the official ending - it was almost three. Before I left, together with others with the same idea, I bumped into Kassim Tadin.

"What am I going to tell Najib afterwards, you're leaving early ?" Kassim joked.

"Tell him I've to do my solat zuhur lah" I said.

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Pa' Ijoi

26.3.2015.

Pa' Ijoi a.k.a. Ahmad Zulkifli died Saturday 21st March (30th Jamadilawal), not quiet 60.

I think it was a fortnight ago that he came to the house on his way home from Bangi. After some refreshments he took a nap on the carpet in the sitting room. I gave him a cushion as a pillow. He woke up around Asr.

Exactly a year ago he had a minor heart attack and was hospitalised at the Kuala Pilah Hospital, but for only a few days. The hospital staff had said "yours is a serious case, uncle."

In fact a few years ago Pa' Ijoi, who would kiss Dekna whenever they meet, something even I don't always do to this only daughter of mine, went for some tests at IJN, and was later scheduled for angioplasty. He never went.

Pa' Ijoi was a strapping guy with a matching love for good cuisine, who didn't give too much concern for his high bp and blood sugar. Because I have the same problems, I often advised him to watch out his food intake and not to forget his medication. God Decides when it's time; we should also take care of ourselves.

We were on our way to lunch when Idah got the call from Balkis in the car - Pa' Ijoi was "unconscious". The long lunch planned was cut short; several calls were made - to Ari, Bangdek, Kak Long Izan, Dekna and some others I can't remember now. I also called Balkis again, and this time her reply was ominous. Pa' Ijoi was foaming in the mouth and wasn't responding at all. Balkis was alone. She spooned some sugared warm water but it just spilled out from Pa' Ijoi still lips. She said several people she had called were at the house already, and the ambulance from Juasseh had been called. I tried to calm her. Then I called my brother Dr. Din at his clinic in Bahau, and asked him to have a look immediately. I found out later that he came quickly, before the arrival of the ambulance and with another doctor. But it was already too late. When I pieced the sequence of events, I put the time of death at 2 p.m. In the official Police report I believe they put it at 3. We arrived at at the house at about 3.45 p.m.

I felt specially close to him. Ai and I always teased him with "Chi oledi". It was that song by Tom Jones, and Pa' Ijoi was staying with Bangdek in Ampang Jaya, and Ai was also staying there, attending school there, I think, and the song went "She's a lady..... !", but Pa' Ijoi, not knowing English and learning the song by ear was giving it his own pronounciation ! When Bangdek moved to the Jalan Tun Razak government quarters, Pa' Ijoi followed him. They gave him the servant's room behind the kitchen that came with the quarters. Because Kak Zawiah would lock the kitchen doors quite early at night, Pa' Ijoi would go to the shops nearby for late-night snacks. To this day I don't think Bangdek knows about this. I used to bring my .22 rifle whenever we went back to the house in Lonek, and Pa' Ijoi loved to shoot and suggested I leave the gun with him. He had a firearms licence and his own double-barreled shotgun and was a good shot. Hari Rayas he'd wrestled me to get the "ang pows" I'd carry with me to distribute to his three kids. I would tease him about PAS and PKR of which he was sympathetic, and me with my UMNO ties. In fact if he was UMNO he would have been "Ketua Kampong" long ago. Ketua Kampong is Government, and paid.

When I helped bathe his remains on the house varendah on Sunday morning, his body was firm and sturdy, and he looked as if in deep sleep. We laid him to rest next to his mother's grave. Kamil, his only son, led the funeral prayers. When I arrived on Saturday, after reciting the Yasin sitting close to his head, I called Kamil and said he should lead the funeral prayers as his last service to his late father, and I showed him how to do it. Ari and Idah gave their agreement. I didn't ask Balkis, but I believe everybody was happy that Kamil led the prayers in the mosque. The practice is encouraged by the shari'ah, but is uncommon. It was 11 a.m. and for a kampong congregation, the 100 plus people attending was surprisingly large. It showed the great relationship Pa' Ijoi had built in the kampong, having opted for early retirement and returning home several years ago.

Though only a brother-in-law, Pa' Ijoi was close to me, visiting each other more often than my own siblings. Durian and rambutan seasons always meant the fruits would reach my house, one way or another. We have delicious "durian kampong" and great "budak sekolah" rambutans, and also mangosteens behind the Lonek house. Sometimes so much rambutans were sent to us, and there are just the two of us, there would be left-over fruits that would turn black in the plastic bags they came in.

Without him I don't know if I'll go back to Lonek, or if I do it would not be with the same feeling. I wish the three children well. I encouraged Kak Long to sit for her STP instead of finding employment after her SPM. She followed the advice, went to  SITC in Tanjung Malim,  and is now a graduate teacher in Sarawak. I encouraged Kak Ngah to open her own tailoring business and she has. I have told her husband, now that they have moved to Palong, to get a van and farm out tailoring jobs to seamstresses around the complex, and open business to the big-spending and large settlers' community. Very early in his young life, I tried to encourage Kamil to play golf: my own sons didn't take to the game. But Kamil picked tennis, like his father, but the game remains a past time. I'd wanted him to be like what Mizi, his cousin, is now - a pro golfer. Incidently I feel some responsibility in Mizi's case, too. I was the first person to bring him to see the PGA teaching pro Tony Maloney who was in Cheras at that time.

Now there are only two brothers left - Bangdek and Ari.

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Azahari at KLCentral.

18.3.2015.

I was walking briskly towards "the Swiss Oven" at KLCentral when I spotted Azahari walking slowly towards the escalator. I walked up to him and grabbed his shoulders, surprising him. He looked smaller than he already is, and thinner.

"What're you doin' here ?"

"I'm waiting for someone."

"Come let's go for a drink."

I'd planned the late breakfast, anyway, all the way from Seremban that morning. I'd arranged for a meeting with Awe and his friend from Damansara at 1 o'clock, so there was plenty of time. I thought I'd have my "set no. 7", and then browse at the bookshop on the second floor, and before you know it, it'd 1 o'clock. So instead it's a late breakfast with Azahari Md. Alif, formerly from Kampong Morten, Melaka Town.

We were together at Tanjong Malim. Our fathers were teaching at the S.I.T.C. Back then it was a teachers' college. I was there from 1951 to 1956, when they replaced all the college-trained teachers with graduates.

When I went to U.M. in 1965, I met Azahari again, and renewed our friendship. We used to ride to Dong, Raub, and to my future in-laws' house in Lonek (I didn't know I'd marry my wife then - 6 years later!), and to his house in Kampong Morten. I had my Honda 90; Azahari rode a Lamberetta that looked too big for him.

My second job in 1969 saw me in Felda, and who did I meet in Kuantan on an official trip ? Azahari again ! He was the R.S. there, set up in an abondoned warehouse ! Felda was poor those days.

Then in 1974 I went for a course at Birmingham University, England. Who did I meet at the University ? It was Azahari, again ! He was also attending a course there. In fact I went to his rented house at Sally Oak and had dinner with him and his wife and his eldest daughter. I remember it was still very cold that early April, and they had the much needed electric heater on  all the time!

We talked about old mutual friends from the Tanjong Malim days.

I updated him on Zain Rais, that he's the same bully. We talked about Shukur and Kompot, about Kamal Gemok and Rahim, Cikgu Alang's sons. We remembered Tajudin Arif from Slim River, now deceased. And we discovered we're both 70 !

Then his friend came. He was from Tanjong Malim,too, but I don't remember him. So we parted company. I went to the bookshop and bought "Use your memory" by Tony Buzan.

Awe came right on time. For once.

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Car rescue, Faizul, Aik Kheow and other things.

16.3.2015.

Faizul invited me to his daughter's wedding when we met at Ramli's son's wedding early this year. When he later sms'd me, I sms'd back "no card, no come". The card came by courier,  to make sure I received it. 

I mentioned it to Sam when I called him about something else, so Sam called Faizul about it, and that's how Sam got invited. That was fortunate. Otherwise my car might still be stranded at Kamil's Petronas station this morning.

Knowing the Sunday evening traffic to KL, I told the wife to get ready to leave for the Dewan Endon, Putrajaya, for the function, by 6 p.m. As usual we were 20 minutes late. I still had to fill up the car first, so we went to Kamil's petrol station. But after filling up, the car wouldn't start. So I called Sam, knowing he was coming to the same function. He said to try this and that, which I did, to no effect, so he said he'll drive up to help.

By now it was almost 8 p.m. We exchanged several calls to give directions, but Sam still managed to drive past the petrol station because he said the signboard was obscured. Anyway he finally came, fiddled with the gear shift as he turned the electronic key, and presto ! the damn thing started. So that was the trick.

Dekna had come earlier to collect her mother and they went home. Sam and I decided we should still attend Faizul's kenduri. So we went back to the house to fetch the wife.

Hanif, my s.i.l. had laboriously drawn a map to Dewan Endon. Sam pored over it under the reading light as we entered Putrajaya, but like the last map Hanif drew when I had to fetch Dekna from work, this map fared no better. After realising that we had passed some spots for the second time, we surrendered and stopped by the roadside to ask a guy who had also stopped his car. Sam got down, but he got another guy in a second car to finally take us to the Dewan, driving behind his car. That was about 9.30 p.m.

Li Aik Kheow  had twice called during all this time. He had arrived at 7.30 because he said the invitation was for 8. I related my predicament and asked him to wait, and that was about 9 already, things haven't started yet.

Faizul, Sam , Aik Kheow and I go back a long way. Around 1985. Faizul was the longest. He started working under me when I joined Angkut as GM in 1985, but I knew him when I joined Felmil in 1980, when he used to represent Angkut at the weekly sales meetings. Aik Kheow was one of the northern transport contarctors for Angkut. Sam was in Port Klang in 1991.

When I joined MISC in January 1991, I was stationed at the North Port, Port Klang. After about a year, as we expanded, I asked Faizul to join me and serve at Butterworth, our new branch. To recruit more sales staff for that branch,  I had personally interviewed and recruited Rozanna. As fate would have it, Faizul, at that time divorced from his wife, not long after that married Rozana. So you could say I gave him a job and a wife ! When the news reached Felda HQ (at that time the Chairman of Felda was also Chairman of MISC), words indirectly reached me that someone at the top didn't like this particular situation,and it was said that either one of the couple should leave. I commented to several of my senior staff that in that case all the couples (and there were many from among the more senior staff) in Felda should do the same.

If Faizul didn't join me I think he'd be one of the top guys in the Felda Group; but basically he'd stay put in Felda. Having moved to Butterworth and doing the transport work that was different and in the new environment, doors opened to his enterprising mind and training. Now he's a shareholder of the new company he's with, resides in up-market Bukit Jelutong, and drives a spanking new BMW 7 series.

Aik Kheow said he's going to China in a few days. He seems forever going to China. He'd had a heart procedure last year I hadn't heard about. His wife also told mine that he'd had a prostate operation as well. But at 64 he seems outwardly robust enough. I told him he's one of two old Chinese friends who have maintained regular contacts with me.

I'm glad I came, very late as it was. I even met Kamil, the owner of the petrol station where my car stalled, and I told him about it. You see people with growing families, all moving forward. We look back with fond memories, perhaps, and cannot escape thinking about what might have been. We should savour what we have.

On our way back to Seremban we lost our way again.

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1MDB - the sequence.

13.3.2015.

In December I posted my first take on 1MDB. I'd said the PM must quickly come clean on this. Today is March 13. I need to jot a continuation on the story.

At the local UMNO Branch committee meeting several days ago I'd asked for, and received  a unanimous agreement to my proposal at tabling a motion on the subject of 1MDB at the next AGM, to be brought up to this year's Divisional AGM. I have already prepared the draft  since.

I'm wording it carefully so that my motion would not die prematurely. The tone is the acceptance of the PM's assurance that a full audit by both the company- appointed public auditors and the Government's National Auditor would be immediately done, and all wrongdoers would be prosecuted.

Since then substantial material has surfaced:

i. Several newsworthy names have come out.

ii. The Second Finance Minister has admitted the "unsustainabilty" of the company.

iii. Large funds have left Cayman Islands but are parked in Singapore.

Unsurprisingly, the opposition parties have gleefully jumped at the rich exposed vein.

I'm keeping track of the story, and will decide on what to include in my motion. I'll stick to my original proposition that the PM act now and do the right thing, or a big mess waits for him at GE 14. 

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Amok, my beloved auntie.

2.3.2015.

This afternoon, Monday 2nd March 2015, after Asr prayers, I joined the mourners who sent  Amok, my beloved auntie, to her final resting place at Kuala Jempol, Bahau. She was 87. The same age as mom.

I spent many school holidays at her house, before I went to boarding school. When Padir and I graduated from the University of Malaya, our photos in gown and mortar board hung proudly on the walls in the sitting room for many years.

When Amok got married to Pa' Bai 70 years ago, they remained childless for several years, so much so they adopted Abin, a relative's daughter from Melang, before Basit was born. Abin is short for "binti" - Pa' Bai went to a madrasah "pondok religious school" in Kelantan and was enamoured with Arabic. Her given name is Natrah, after Natrah or Bertha Hertogh of the infamous Natrah riots in Singapore in 1950.

I visited Amok in hospital about  two weeks ago on learning that she had broken her pelvis after a fall in the house. She had an operation a few days ago, and yesterday several relatives visited her at Fadillah's house in Taman Puan Chik. This morning she died.

This house next to the Kuala Jempol mosque is not the first house. I remember one Hari Raya several of us - me, my mother, Acik and others I can't remember - going in a taxi along the muddy, unpaved Terusan road to Amok's little house on pillars. Then they moved  to this present site, but it was a very modest wooden house with a low roof in front, and a rickety, swinging, wire-netting half-door. Much later this present large house was built. Amok used to have a "rumah kepok" for holding all the padi and rice Pa' Bai received as payment for teaching religion, or alms during Ramadan. So here was Pa' Bai, no padi field but plenty of padi !

I remember one particular visit when I stayed for a few days and befriended Yusof who stayed a short distance across the laterited former railway track. We rode on his buffaloes, and I had my big toe pierced by a bamboo sliver. Amok put some ointment on it and after one or two days the wound dried and the sliver came out.

I also remember an old photograph with Amok, mom and me against the flower bushes at wan's house in Bukit Temensu. I wonder where it has gone.

When dad died, Amok spoke sadly about him being more than a brother-in-law. She remembered dad asking her "Bong (short for Obong, Amok's nickname) let's look for some sweet potatoes." This was during the Japanese Occupation.

Mat Cit said, on the way to the cemetry, yesterday Amok was talkative, and gave no signs of anything wrong after the operation at  Tunku Najiha's Hospital.

Her second son, Zubit, led the funeral prayers and read the talqin. I recited the Surah Yasin from the little booklet as the shroud was lowered into the grave. Datuk Khalid Yunus read out loud the Surah Yasin from memory at the same time. Before I left the site, I just stood over the grave for a while, thinking of dear departed Amok.

Now there's only Acik left. She's 78.

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