Mubarak NS emergency & last meeting for 2019.

Monday 30 Dec 2019.

Dato' Ismail and I rushed from our 9-holes at SIGC, finishing at 10.30,  for the emergency meeting at 11.

I beat Ismail to it. 

This was about selling-off half of the Bahau property Mubarak NS owns, thanks to Mat Hassan. We lost the rights to the oil palm produce because of lack of documentation after the GE 14 change of government. We had a lengthy meeting about the same topic 19 days earlier, but it was decided that more study should be done. Not much study has been done, but Yazid Baba must have second thoughts and asked for today's emergency meeting.

At the last meeting, Chong had explained the market situation in Bahau, and supported the serious offer of RM 1.2 million for 2 of the 4 shoplots that worked out to RM 600 k each. Ah Tham didn't agree, suggesting we hold for improved market. There was an offer last time for these lots for RM 200 k more. Both Chong and Ah Tham have personal experiences in the property market in Bahau.

Mokhtar Yassin had suggested a thorough study be made first.

The others gave their different opinions.

I had said that, after listening to Chong, maybe it's opportune that the one serious offer (earnest money had been submitted) be considered, and the cash could be deposited in alternative investment.

The decision of that earlier meeting was to study the situation first.

Yazid gave his usual bi-lingual, long-winded commentry. As usual he asked for comments. As usual he never listen to the comments. Yazid is not a listener.  He spoke of his long experience with real-estate, locally and internationally. Obviously he  was  making a pitch for selling. As  usual with him, he spoke of his "lawyer" background, (again), of his honest and "principled" stand, (again), and of  the legal requirements in these sort of things. He even quoted Aziz Rahman's mistake of ignoring his advice about changing Mubarak Malaysia's constitution causing that rejection by R.o.S., and emphatically added that while around, he'll not allow abuse of Mubarak's money. Bravo !

Derma asked Chong about "open tenders". Her school teacher's experience probably limits her sight to such things. Foo, Ismail, Ah Tham, Oh and Chong all spoke of market situation.  Foo, Oh and  Mokhtar all have previous business experiences.

Yazid asked for my opinion. I was the last to speak before Yazid made the final decision. 

I repeated what I said in the last meeting. "Take a vote. Sell or don't sell." 

Continuing, I said the market is a function of time and location. The price will change according to these 2 factors. Based on Chong's briefing, it seems that the best action is to accept this single but serious offer before the deadline in one day's time, take the cash and put it into better investment in Seremban or elsewhere, since Bahau's immediate future looks uncertain.

Yazid then said "those who don't agree to sell, raise your hands".

I quickly turned and pointed to Ah Tham "Ah Pek, Ah Pek ?"

"I don't disgree, but ......" he protested, seeing that he was alone.

"All that you have been saying was you don't agree to sell !" I interrupted.

So, the sale is now agreed. I told Chong as I was leaving "you have only one more day to respond." "I'll call today" he replied.

The expected nett cash RM 1 million would make Mubarak NS cash rich.

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Another nephew's wedding.

Sun 29 Dec 2019.

The school holidays are always  popular for "kenduris", because everybody wants everybody to come, which doesn't always happen, of course. I'm sure Acam must have invited Bang Enon, Ari, Hasnah and the other first cousins. I had invited Kak Long and Bang Piei on her behalf. None of them had turned up by the time we left the kenduri for No. 3 Son's house at 3, which was close to the 4 o'clock closing time. In the case of Kak Long, her excuse was she had to attend another kenduri. The others must have good reasons, too, I'm sure.

Idah came one day earlier with Calit, to offer help to Acam. But she slept at Calit's Gombak house. I came with Dekna the morning of the kenduri.

In fact the actual wedding was a month earlier, at the bride's reception in Titiwangsa. Yesterday's return reception was at "Kg. Pengantin KL", in Setapak. Apparently there are many of these in KL now.

As weddings go, it was well-attended and merry. Because the couple had got together a month ago, they behaved familiar and waved and called out to their friends as they entered the hall and went through the usual rigmaroles of these functions. Those, too, were mostly simplified and certainly saved time, but we must have these, otherwise we might as well have "kawin koboi" (an explanation requires a separate blog).

I look forward to these functions because they are opportunities to meet old family members and friends, and there were many of them yesterday. I feel guilty because I couldn't give enough time to the people I met. I told Jiman to hang around while I mix around, but never met him again. Kama, Dekma's ex, came to me and we tried to squeeze in as much as possible with the short talk we had. Alang Ipin, those of Cikgu Shamsuddin's children who came, Kamariah Pak Ngah, Li Pank Ngah, my own kids and the 8 grandchildren who made it (No. 3 Son's 3 were missing) were all given short shrift by the time available. I even got to squeeze in "Vel, vel, vel Fahmi" the MP from Lembah Pantai, catching him as he was looking for a table. I gave him my mobile no. but he never made the "missed call" for his number, so that was that. But in the end I got to maximise the opportunity. "When will we meet again", cries the song.

As Eti walked past, I called her out to congratulate her on a well-prepared and well-presented welcoming speech for her younger and only  brother's matrimony. In fact at one point she was overcome with emotion, showing how much feeling was put into that speech.

I was happy that all my kids brought all their kids (except No. 3 Son, of course) because I wanted them to see the extended family ties, recognize all, and perpetuate the connection in time. Some ties would be thicker than others, but that's normal. You get on with life, and sustain the valued relationships. It's always mutual.

I only found out Aizat's other name of Naufal at this wedding. It makes good rhyme with his better-half, Nana. "Naufal & Nana" sounds better than "Aizat & Nana". I hope they have poetry through their future together.

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Mat Cah's kenduri.

Sunday 22 Dec 2019.

Bok and Deka and Unuih have always joked about Udin Jahat attending kenduris he's not invited to. He'd drive by and see a kenduri by the roadside, and simply pull over, saunter to the khemah, sit down and eat and drink, and then casually take leave.

Something similiar happened to me and my group yesterday, and it was not a joke.

Mat Cah had invited us for his youngest daughter's wedding, Saturday 21st December. Idah was also invited for the aqad nikah, Friday, but we had no transport and couldn't go.

Saturday, we all packed into Dekna's Carnival at about half-past ten. As expected, the Seremban-Kuala Pilah road was heavy with traffic, and we crawled to Kuala Pilah. When we reached the Ampang Tinggi junction to Melang and Parit, I was relieved, and told Hanif, driving, to turn left to Parit, and then to Jalan Bukit and the town hall there.

I was sure that the town hall in Jalan Bukit was the venue, because that was where his other kenduris were held. It's newer, had air-conditioning, and plenty of parking. I know the card says "Dewan Majlis Daerah".

Hanif even confidently turned into the front entrance, and I confidently alighted and lifted the 3 grandchildren down from the MPV. I looked around for familiar faces, saw none, and just walked up to the people waiting to welcome the guests. I shook hands with all the friendly, smiling strangers, and walked into the hall, and headed towards an empty table close to the food. Still seeing no Mat Cah, nor anyone I recognize, I just went for the cakes and drinks, and they were nice cakes, too, and the cekodoks were still warm ! I asked a woman guest helping herself to the cakes "Is this Mat Cah's kenduri?" "I don't know. I only know the woman in the family."

Idah asked the caterer's staff "is this Mat Cah's kenduri?" Again "I don't know" was the answer.

Then I spottted a familiar face, though the name escaped me. "This is so-and-so's kenduri. Mat Cah is the other hall near the Hindu temple" he explained.

There was still food on my plate, and a bottle of mineral water on the table, but I quickly got up and motioned to the others to leave by the side door close to our table. Idah was nowhere near, but Dekna said she had said loudly "salah tompek" and then apologised to the receptionists, who said "takpe,takpe." We heard later that several others also made the same error.

So we made it to the correct venue, and of course we immediately saw familiar faces.

I made it straight to the meehoon goring and took a big helping, plus a piece of kueh. I asked Iman to take a bottle of mineral water. In the end, except for some more cakes and mineral water, that was all I had. 

I had a good time, though. The relatives and old friends always make your day, kenduri or no kenduri.  Adang, Jiman, Deka and the Tg. Jati boys were there. I sat down with Alang Ipin and even introduced Dekna and Hanif to him. We were close in our school days, Alang Ipin and I, before he went to MCKK and then to Germany. Then he got married, and I got married, and we went our separate ways. Only once we went to his quarters in Kertih, when he was with Petronas. That was it. But his son's wedding, family members' wedding, these were meeting points. But we've never lingered like our schoolboy days. Too bad.

I may have mentioned this elsewhere, but I'll mention it again here. Mat Cah has had quite an adventure. After graduating from vocational school he had a short stint with a MARA workshop in Shah Alam before hitchhiking to Germany. When he left he only spoke Malay. When he came back after several years, he spoke English and German! There was this German volunteer teacher in Kuala Pilah, something like the "Peace Corps", who came to a relative's kenduri. Mat Cah was there and they met, and chatted away in German !

When I was in Angkut I gave Mat Cah a construction contract somewhere in Palong, I think. The ground boys penalized him for some delays or something, but upon completion I released the money. Instead of putting it back into business, which was my intent, he went for his umrah. He has since dabbled into catering, and even operated a restaurant. But without proper staffing, there's no way he can handle the workload. But his wife is a retired Deputy School Principal and a university graduate. And this daughter, just married, is an engineer. So I think they're ok.

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Kamil mau kawin !

21 Dec 2019.

Kamil sent us off to Telok Intan, Wednesday 18th. December, to officially ask  this girl called "Girl" from Sibu, Sarawak, for her hand in marriage. The whole journey from Seremban by road, to and fro, took 13 hours, and three quarters of Dekna's Carnival's tank of Euro 5 diesel, over more than 500 km. Telok Intan is where Girl's father is from. Sibu is where Girl's mother is from. The Sibu journey would take 2 hours of flying alone, not counting how many hours by road on Sarawak's unknown roads! 

Bal had requested us to do this, and we were only too happy to oblige, for the late Pak Ijoi, who left us all too soon. We'd gladly go to Sibu,too, when the time comes, maybe in a year's time. If we know the exact date, we could even get a cheap flight with an early booking. Place of stay should be no problem. Girl should be able to handle that !

I've driven to Telok Intan, to the leaning tower in town, before, but that was a long time ago. 

Wednesday, Bal's brother was supposed to be the guide. We assembled at the Rawang R & R around 10a.m., then took off. We took the Sungkai exit, and followed the Federal road all the way to the housing estate just before Telok Intan town. We were at Girl's father's house by 11.50. They were waiting, and upon seeing our convoy, came out to the road to receive us.

I said "supposed" to be the guide, because Bal's younger brother drove like no guide. My speedometer said 140 and he was still ahead of me and his car ahead was growing smaller.

The "ceremony" was short and simple. Ari did the talking, which I like, instead of the expected Bang Piei.  Bang Piei tends to overdo it, especially with his "jokes"  which he always thinks are funny. He laughs at them more than us, when we're usually laughing more at him than his stupid jokes.  Details are to be set by the couple, and the dates are to be fixed later, but probably in a year's time.

They served a buffet lunch, which everybody seemed to enjoy, because it was lunch time anyway.

The return journey was via Kuala Selangor. First we had a short stop at Bang Piei's old police mate's 7-month old restaurant nearby. Then Olin took us for mee udang at the picnic area close to the training college that Olin used to come to. Bang Piei paid the rm 80 bill.

The route was through  Telok Intan, Simpang Empat and Hutan Melintang, all still Perak,  then through Air Tawar,  Sabak,  Sg. Besar, Sekinchan, Tg. Karang, Kuala Selangor, Kelang,  Subang Jaya and Bangi, Selangor, then in NS through Nilai  to Seremban.

We had left Seremban at 8 a.m. We were back in Seremban at 9 p.m.

My smart tag had rm 90 when we left. It showed  rm 30 in the end.

I drove all the way, but surprisingly,  didn't feel any worse for it, and Thursday morning woke up at the usual 4.30 for my golf fixture that day.

Bal still has to pay for the 3-piece "hantaran" Idah prepared. Girl's people gave nothing in return. (sigh) Maybe it's Sarawak custom.

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FMC 1952-1961.

Mon 16 Dec 2019.

This blog was drafted the day after the OP's gathering at the ol' campus at Batu 4 Port Dickson on Sunday 15th. December 2019. About 100 of us came,  OP's who went to Federation Military College, PD, before the College moved to Sg. Besi in the middle of 1961 and was renamed Royal Military College. Of course that campus was recently moved again, but in the same general vicinity. 

It rained the whole day, but fortunately there was a short dry spell that allowed the tree-planting ceremony to take place. Obviously the tree would outlive everyone present. But that was the idea - in memory of this historic meeting.

The wet day meant that the outdoor activities were out. The main chunk of the program was indoors, anyway, and so the party wasn't spoiled. And it was truly a party, of decades-old friendship that has endured long years of individual enterprise, and countless miles of individual journeys, that somehow has seen that college-days connection quite intact, even if memories and faces show the passage of time.

Nawawi and Co. (no offense to the Chairman of the Committee) had planned the day's program in detail (excluding the weather) and laid out the food in the dining hall, and there was supposed to be proper seating and sequence. But the various food stalls were ready, and the durian corner was too much. Hell did not break loose, but Nawawi well-meant order went out into the rain outside!

I personally met again with many old friends, including Azzat. I told him I named my first-born Azat, because I was trying to find an uncommon name starting with "A". All 4 of my children carry names starting with "A" because my "Z" was always last throughout my school days (not in the exams, fortunately).

I sat with Nor Shaari and Rizal Sardon at lunch. That was when I learned that Fuad Jaafar, my cousin-in-law, is in Hainan, China, suffering a stroke, now with his two sons attending. He was on a golf trip. Rizal knows him because they were at MCKK, and we were talking about the late Tajuddin Arif who was at MCKK and was my SMC1 and SMC2 classmate at the Methodist English School, Tg. Malim. They all did Electrical Engineering in Brighton together. 

Hank and I had left Seremban at 8.05 that morning, in his car. The day before he'd asked that we leave at 9, because he had to check certain things. Minutes later he called again and said to make it 8.30. Minutes later he called yet again, asking to go at 8. That was when I responded and said if he makes one more change now to 7.30, we may as well sleep in PD ! And he came to pick me up at 8.05 and I told him "you're late!".

A few wives and children also came. I think it's a good idea that they come, if they can. We'd all share these reunions in a pleasant way. I didn't think about it, and came alone, but Hank brought his son and daughter, coming separately.

The whole thing would not have been smoothly done without the NCO College's help. Our committee had made arrangements with the College, of course, but in Col. Inderjit, the Director, was found something "beyond the call of duty". In fact the durians were his idea! 

One surprise was Halim's MC's hidden talent, and I told him that at lunch. Nawawi overheard me and chipped in "sapa train?" meaning him, of course. But Hank gave Nawawi a good one at the rostrum during the speeches: 

     "we're appreciative of Nawawi's help throughout the preparations. He always there  whenever we needed him. He was also always there when we didn't need him !"

I must have laughed the loudest. Hank is a joker. In front of Halim and Nawawi at lunch I said "Lim, I give you 9.5/10 for your M.C. hidden talent, but I have to give Hank 10/10 for that punch line about Nawawi !" 

There was Ismail Nor, Arthur, Sukdarshan (nowadays he prefers "Dillon"), Gurdial, Aba Jiwa, Hashim, Nawi, Husin Senik, Jalal, Salim, Mui, Chua, Li Heng Tiong  and so many others, all in 7 series now. Is this one last hurrah?, I wonder. I spoke to that heart surgeon who flew all the way from Singapore. His name escapes me now, because we were from different intakes and different companies. "Are you going to retire in Singapore?" "No, I'm coming back to Malaysia" He went on to give his views, but the activities going on separated us out.

We've had many such gatherings before, and I'm sure there'll be many more. But "FMC 1952-1961" was special.

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Milestones ?

Sunday Dec 8 2019.

Last night the children decided to get together and throw me, and Iman, my eldest granddaughter, a belated birthday party. 

It was great, even if a few days late. But the children are all working, even if it was the school holidays. And all 4 spouses are also working. But it was a nice venue (The Royal Chulan KL), a nice evening (no rain in a very wet week), and most of all, great company. In a rare moment, everybody was present.

No. 2 Son also took opportunity to celebrate their 15th wedding anniversary. Unbeknownst to the children, December 3 is also our wedding anniversary. No 48.

I thanked Lula, my third daughter-in-law, as I took my leave around 11 p.m., and said I don't know how many birthdays I have left to celebrate.  I know she & No. 3 Son picked the tab. I showed the hotel my i.c. and got a discount, but it was still not cheap. But, except for baby Zayd, all the grandchildren thoroughly enjoyed themselves, many forgetting their food, and everybody releasing the tied floating balloons. Most of them were still floating and stuck to the ceiling when we all left.

I took the opportunity to call together my 4 kids, and Dekna's Hanif, to announce to them that I'm immediately giving the Seremban house to Dekna. She of the four is the only one who has not yet bought a house. I don't want the house to be left abondoned once I'm gone, as commonly happens. So as Dato' Ismail Yassin advised, give it to one of the children, in this case my daughter, and not waste another house-purchase. Now any renovation plans have to be done by her. With No. 3 Son, my Charted Accountant, by my side, I however declared that I need to raise some funds immediately to settle  their mother's Ar Rahnu account  and also clear my bank overdraft, now that the 75 milestone is passed. I asked, and No. 3 Son strongly supported, that Dekna and Hanif raise a loan for the Seremban house.     Lula was also listening, and interjected that she can look at her bank for the possible loan. The Ar Rahnu, especially, has been bothering their mother these last few years. She wants the jewellery  back. 

I was happy to see No. 1 Son there, because in the past many family gatherings, except Hari Rayas, were  without him. I was also happy that, after I had sms'd, Iman came prepared to follow us back to Seremban and to stay a few days. She's already 14, and big for her age. Before you know it, she's a woman and will go out into the world, and her childhood will be forever gone. I want to share whatever is left whenever I can.  After all, she's only one of two granddaughters that I have. She was born in Selayang Hospital but spent her first months of  life in our house. I had tears in my eyes when we left them at  their newly rented apartment in KL. Her months'-old photo peers at me in my p.c. room, even as I post this blog.

75, 48,15, 14. All milestones. A lot to remember, but time moves on.  I thank God for the good health, the happy children and grandchildren. I hope they appreciate what they have. More. What God Provides.

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16th. MUBARAK AGM.

Monday 25 Nov 2019.

The 16th MUBARAK Malaysia AGM went to plan at the Maluri Hotel, Cheras, the second time it was held in this downgraded venue because of "constraints". Constraints or not, the 166 rooms booked cost RM 27,000, and more than RM 4,000 was wasted for non-appearances. (The 4K could easily be saved by just talking to the management; it's said Daim owns the hotel.) Food must have cost about RM 6,000. Delegates were paid RM 100 each, totalling RM 13,900. Staff allowances, transport and printing cost money. The preparatory meetings must have cost money, too. Altogether MUBARAK must have coughed out at least RM 75,000.

There being no elections, it was a quiet affair that went smoothly and ended on cue at 1 pm sharp. I  skipped lunch and made it to KDE Golf Club, Ampang, before 2.30, just 30 minutes later than the agreed rendezvous with Calit. We  managed to make it to the al Falah mosque, Subang Jaya just before the Asr prayers, to attend my in-law's funeral prayers. He passed away that morning.

The President opened the AGM himself. It was Ku Li last year. The President made his usual expensive opening remarks, not forgetting that bit about sms'ing the Agong, no less.

The President spoke of the success of the Foundation and the development of MUBARAK's property in Jalan Ipoh. But he lamented about the undergraduates program. I'm not entirely up-to-date, but it's now apparently stranded because the current government has not come in support, financially. 

The last session of the day was the adjournment speeches. I think the best speech was Kedah who reminded us about the nature of an NGO, and  the need to leave politics to the politicians. Of course we had to have Kelantan to loudly mention Tg. Piai and "the end of PH", forgetting that it's just 1 seat in the 222-seat Parliament. Kelatan UMNO is always loud, but PAS has always ruled the state like forever! Kelantan also spoke about "hundreds of charges being heaped", obviously referring to the embattled Najib without spelling it out. So much for loud. There were sobering speeches from other states, nevertheless. There is need to accept that nation-building requires youth and endless funding, both lacking in MUBARAK. It should take up the role of the experienced observer to offer mature advice for those politicians in power. 

The NS delegation was cut by half because of absenteeism. This seemed like AWOL  because the 10 were formally elected, and the excuses given, like attending an UMNO convention, or a wedding, fail to give appropriate recognition to a once-a-year duty in MUBARAK.  But 139/166 was still a good figure. Fortunately for NS, the allowance was only given out after registration.  HQ was even cleverer. They paid out at the end of the AGM, so even if they come but leave early, they're  out.

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Bandung, again.

12 Oct 2019.

Kak Long arranged for another trip to Bandung, first week of October, instead of the put-off Istanbul trip. That would have to wait, but must be done sooner or later. I had been there many years ago, but many friends have recently made the trip and have only wonderful stories to tell.

This time we put Lembang in our visit. Unfortunately, the crater Tangkupan Prahu was closed because of sulphur emission, so we put Dusun Bamboo and the Flower Garden into the list, and we enjoyed these.

The angklung show was delightful. The air was cool and the show professionally done. The scores of cute kids in colourful native dresses and the crowd participation made it really fun. I was given the no. 5 angklong and on cue shook the hell out of it.

As I wrote in my previous blog, the traffic congestion in Bandung, which is supposed to be the second largest city in Indonesia, has to be experienced to be believed. Even from the plane we can see how tight the houses are built together. On the ground, you wouldn't think 2 large vehicles can pass each other on the narrow lanes, but they do and safely, too. The main factor is the tolerence of the drivers. Maybe it's because they have no choice, maybe because of their character, but I don't see the anger and frustration that you'd find in Malaysia. I think it's a behaviour that can be learned. We are the same racial stock, eat the same food, speak, at least on the national level, the same tongue, dress the same, especially the women in their hijabs not there  maybe 10 years ago, and can pass for each other. But we don't drive the same way, and our road condition is much better.

This time we stayed in two different places. They were ok, but our last trip was much better. But then we leave our rooms early in the morning and return late in the evening, so it wasn't of utmost importance.

The first day at the club on my return, I met ex teacher Loo Tee Foo (I call him "lu tipu", of course) who inquired where I'd been. I told him, and he seemed keen. I told him he'd enjoy the weather and sights but not the traffic. But it's cheap. Air tickets, board & lodging, and internal transport cost me only RM 1K, pocket money excluding.

Kak Long agreed to arrange for a train trip to Haatyai in November. I told her to arrange for the hotel and internal transport, but to make sure we get KTM's senior citizens' discount. And avoid the weekend.

Naturally we didn't miss Bandung's Pasar Baru "boleh, boleh, boleh, belanja lagi!" I think the women spent most of their money here. We came on the first day, and again on the last day.

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exPD boys gathering Sept 5th.

Sept 7, 2019.

Hank & I were among the early arrivals at the OPA Penthouse, Subang. Nawi had organized a gathering of some PD boys to refresh recollections for the PD years in a write-up already done before this. True enough, there were several reminiscences that should embellish little stories that relate to the wonderful PD sojourn.

There were about 30 of us who came, which was ok for this sort of thing, I guess.  I had earlier poked at Nawi "only 20 ah?" because in the whatspp 20 names were mentioned. True to form, Nawi bristled. "You organize lah!"

The oldest college graduate, Bhajan Singh, who had stayed in England and France after retirement, and still has family in England, was there. In fact he's launching a book on 9th. October, but I told Hank I'll be in Bandung, but wouldn't have missed it otherwise.  Bhajan must be in his 80's but looks fit and strong, although he's back in Malaysia because of some health issues. 

The two armed forces big names, Borhan and the other Nawi were there. My personal friends Nor Shaari, Halim, Salim, Mooi, Liew, and Mat Sham were there. Of course Radzi had to be there, as he's always around. Radzi in fact should write about his personal journey through the years, because I know that he'd gone through some tragic times in his colourful life.

Those who spoke mentioned personal experiences that were humorous, inspiring and, in Mat Sham's case, emotional. These were formative years of six decades ago, when the world was large and unknown, and life-long friendships were being made.  Many friends have left us forever, but the memomory would never leave. 

As to be expected, the years have left their marks on all who came. Many came with canes. Dahan, who came late, must have lost half his weight and looked frail. All heads were various shades of grey. Mat Sham, who said he was 76 pounds then, must be carrying a third of that on his tummy alone, but otherwise looked alright. But the important thing was we were all well enough to make it. I wonder how many more gatherings like this can be attended by all of the "70 series". That's why I came. I've not been able to come for all OPA organized functions. Whenever I can, I will. While I can. 

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A school orator.

Fri 23 August 2019.

Even my four children don't know this: I was the champion orator twice in my boyhood days. In 1958 when I was 13, I was the champion orator for All NS Religious Schools. 2 years later I was the National Champion Orator for the first "Minggu Bahasa Kebangsaan" held at the Dewan Tuanku Abdul Rahman, Jalan Ampang, KL.

Through the years, through the rest of school and  university, and the 31 working years, including those as a NS State Assemblyman, I had never brought it up. Like the 2 large cups that came as part of the prizes won, the episode just got lost. I should have bragged a bit about them, but didn't. Not out of modesty. It just didn't occur to me that it should be brought out at all.

Now, 61 years later, I realize that this was something to be proud of. Especially for my children. Hence this piece. Better late than never, I guess.

"Champion Orator". There's a nice ring to it. And from 1987 until now I've dabbled in politics, too ! How could I have missed the boast indeed !

In those days, the government arranged for Islamic classes for those primary schoolers interested, conducted in the afternoon. It was convenient for me because  I attended morning school. Still, it was a good walk of about 2km across KP town from my grandparents' house we were still staying in at that time, to the KP Malay school where these classes were conducted.  I'm thankful that the government of the day had thought of this type of Islamic education for those not actually attending Arabic or religious school; that my parents encouraged me; and that I was personally interested. In fact I attended these afternoon classes for 3 years, until I was in Form 2 in TMS. We used text books from the Johor and Perak religious schools. I wonder why NS didn't have them, or maybe I'm unaware of it. 

We covered all the important subjects of "Tarikh", "Tauhid", "Tajwid", "Akhlak", and other topics that I forget now. After retirement many, many years later, I managed to obtain my certificate in "Syariah" from the University of Malaya through the off-campus classes conducted with MAINS. I owe whatever I now know of Islamic studies from these two sources, but the afternoon classes of 6 decades ago were the real basis of my awareness and appreciation for Islam.

Ustaz Yassin of the afternoon religious classes entered my name for the state-level oratory competition to be held in Rembau. There were also other categories, like Quran recitition. I remember Hj. Latiff's brother ( this knowledge came years later, but I distinctly remember it was one Ustaz Othman's son. And Ustaz Othman I found out later was Hj. Latiff's father ) who took part in the Quran recitition competition, and I remember Ustaz Othman being a bit upset about his son's performance. I don't remember if he won. The topic of my oration was picked by my dad, and he wrote the speech.

We had come by car, me, my parents and Ustaz Yassin , from KP to Rembau via Tampin. So it was alright for me, because I was prone to car-sickness, and the Tampin road doesn't have the windy Bukit Putus. But we came back via Seremban because Ustaz Yassin wanted to be sent home that way. His house being in Kayu Ara,  he wanted to show off my trophy along the route. This meant the dreaded Bukit Putus. Of course I was car-sick.

I wasn't thinking about the competition when I sat with the others in Rembau. I wasn't sure if I'd done well or what, so when they announced me as the NS Oratory Champion, Ustaz Yassin was the most excited of them all.

Of course we had to stop at Pak Lang Gani's house in Ulu Bendul. And because of that stop I had to part company with the Quran that was part of the winner's prizes. I had a good look at the Quran, which was a translation by the Indonesian scholar "Mahmoed Joenoes"(the same name as my father, different spelling), "Tafsir Quran Karim in Bahasa Indonesia" 7th. printing 1957 from Pustaka Mahmudiah Djakarta - published only 1 year earlier. But inside he signed off as "Mahmud Junus", another spelling. Pak Lang said he wanted to borrow it "sekejap". That was July 1958.

Pak Lang returned the Quran when I visited him for Hari Raya Puasa on 25th September 1976, the first day of Eid. "Sekejap" it wasn't. In fact it was 18 years.

I only met Ustaz Yassin one more time when he was still alive. It was at a wedding in Kayu Ara, near his house. I was working in KL, but forget the date.

The "Minggu Bahasa Kebangsaan" was a big thing, post-Merdeka, as part of the national awakening to the empowering of the Bahasa Kebangsaan for the young nation. The Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka was the powerful symbol for this, and the then powerful personality leading it was the Johorean Syed Nasir. Oratory, of course, was one of the categories for competition. This time there were to be 4 levels of competition - District, State, the South Zone and the National finals. The State one was at the old town hall, Seremban. The South Zone was in Melaka. The finals were in KL.

Again it was dad who worked the hardest, writing the speech. I thought I gave a good performance at the school hall for the district level competition, as well as at the state level at the Seremban town hall, and at the zone level in Melaka.  By the time I reached the finals, however, held at the then premier Dewan Tuanku Abdul Rahman, in Jalan Amapang, KL (it's still there, but I don't know for what use now) I felt spent, and didn't give it my all. Just like Rembau 2 years earlier, I didn't particularly fancy my chances. But just like Rembau, I won. The first Permaisuri Agong gave away the prizes. The Agong was ill at that time. Unlike Rembau I have the Straits Times photo to show for it. That cup, I don't know where it went. I think the school kept it, since I was representing the school.

The performance in Seremban was watched by some "budak boys" from Federation Military College, Port Dickson. This I found out later, when I joined FMC in 1961. Khairuddin "Li-on" mentioned it. We were together in "B" coy. He said "budak ini masuk kolej kena ni". Later in late 1961 FMC moved to Sg. Besi, and was renamed Royal Military College. 

That's one spot in my life I share here.

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MES Reunion.

July 28, 2019.

Last week Daud (General, Datok) called out of the blue about a Methodist English School alumni reunion Sunday 27th. at the old school in Tg. Malim. 1 o'clock, he said.

I was there at 12.30 and was among the first 10 to have arrived.

I'd bumped into Daud several months ago at the golf friendly arranged by the Dato' Shahbandar in SIGC. I'd recognized him even after 60 years, because he looks the same. I even remember, and I told him,  the incident in SMC 1 class, when I had a headache and wanted to tell the teacher to be excused from class, and I asked the classmates how to tell her. English was the medium then.  Daud offered the word "paining". "That's funny, it sounds just like a different pronouciation of "pening"" I told myself, but it worked and I got my excuse. Of course Daud was referring to "pain" but was using the wrong part of speech. I'm sure the General has improved his English since.

I only studied in SMC 1 and II at MES. My dad got tranferred from SITC back to Kuala Pilah.  The year was 1956. Before "Merdeka". So Sunday was my first visit to my alma mater in 63 long years.

That Saturday I had a fever, but after some panadol it seemed better Sunday morning. Just in case the fever came back, I took my supply of panadols and my jacket.  It did. So I quietly left without telling anyone at about half-past two, but I posted a note on Daud's smartphone. I don't think he's seen it yet.

It wasn't the their first reunion, obviously, but the first one for me, and that only because I told Daud at the golf friendly to let me know about the next one. I was keen to come, even if I felt unwell,  because I wanted to see how everbody looks.

Old.

That's how everyone looked.

Which is to be expected. But the great thing was everyone was in high spirits and looked healthy. For their age.

I can't remember how the school was 6 decades ago.  There has been a number of new buildings. The road into school is now through a grand arch on the town-side of the "padang". I remember it to be on the other side.  The student population must be much bigger now. 

Daud said he stayed until form 3, then moved to Tapah until his MCE.  So he had 4 more years than me here, and should remember much more.

The English-medium education brought all the races together, and I think went a long way towards a uniting the nation. Shool is the formative years where values are learned, interracial relations topping the list. In the euphora for Merdeka and nationalism and the use of Bahasa Melayu, the contribution of a common-language education championed by the English schools was lost to the political firebrands, and today the country suffers from it in obvious ways.

I still have non-Malay friends from school that I meet now, from time to time, and we all lament this loss. Is it too late to change ?

In the chit-chat before I left, we were talking about the name changes to roads and places, replacing "colonial" ones for "national" ones.  But this is history we should retain so that we remember. We're not more "nationalist" for it, only more silly.

Daud offered me the ride home, learning  that I'd taken the commuter train, but I declined, giving an excuse, but mainly by then I felt the fever returning and may opt to leave early. As I walk towards the guard house I saw more people coming. The event was supposed to start at 2, not 1 like Daud said, and I told him that, and he just grinned and blamed someone or something else. I saw the stage being set up with hampers and stuff, and I thought they'll have a great party.

My train left at 3.25.

I reached home at 7. Tired and feverish.

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Akbar Baba, an epilogue.

Sat 6 April 2019.

My last posting on "A.K.Bear" was on 27th. January, slightly more than 2 months ago.

2 weeks ago, sadly, he passed away, at 6.45 am.  

We Malay Muslims in this country believe that Friday is the most blessed day of the week. We also believe that the larger the congregation for a funeral prayer, the more the supplications are heard  for the dear departed.  And we also believe that a son leading the funeral prayers is a great gift for a departing father. Akbar died on a Friday, and his son, tearfully, led the final prayers, with the whole Friday congregation of no less than 1,000 worshippers behind him.

Without any intent of trivia, I looked up the life expectancy in this country. It's  72.7 for male, and 77.4 for female.  Akbar was 75.

When Hank called that Friday at around 12 noon from S 2, I was already at the NS State Mosque. These last few hot months I'd chosen to do my Friday prayers here, because of the air-conditioning, and my house is only 15 minutes away anyway.  So Hank and I decided that both of us could still make it to the Paroi Jaya mosque, and we did.

I made sure that I was in the first row, when we stood and prayed for Akbar. When we finished, it was only natural that I grabbed one of the handles of the pallbearer  containing the remains of a dear friend.

It's always sad when we watch the departure of someone we know well. 

I was in  Form Four  when we first met. We were together when interviewed by the MB himself for the NS State scholarship for university. (Nowadays an MB is too "big" for such mundane chores.) We were together for the three years at the university. We were together in Felda in 1969, though he left after a few months to join the Civil Service. But he did help when in JPA to get the JPA's o.k. for about 40 of us in Felda at that time to be put into the "pensionable scheme" in view of Felda being a statutory body, when the Harun Commission made this particular option possible. For that alone I'm forever grateful to Akbar for as long as I live and draw that little pension.

I remember meeting his father at his father's house not far from his present house in Gedung Lalang. That was just before we went to the university. Azam, his younger brother, was also in Felda, who married another Felda staff. Azam was also a tennis player. He was the one who passed the word about Akbar's passing that morning.

Akbar's house is away from the main road. But maqam Tuan Hj. Said, the cemetry, is just off the road to town. I have many family members interred there. Now when I drive by, I have also dear old Akbar, "A.K.Bear", somewhere among the white marble markers. May God Bless you,  my friend. 

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Losing values.

Fri March 15 2019.

My poor country seems to be getting sold down the drain, in as far as common sense and civil decorum go.

The Judicial arm of the government is supposed to be the bastion of justice, the last course of salvation for those seeking legal retribution in an unjust world.

The burgeoning bureaucracy Mahathir has talked of seems  to enable the harbouring of little napoleons who are always up to their usual mischiefs.

How can you talk about meteing justice to the large general population when you can't do justice to your own tiny department ?

A transfer order is supposed to have considered all angles before the Big Boss puts his stamp on it.  How can the Big Boss be  sabotaged by the small boss who quietly issues his own internal contradicting order ?

Then there is the question of a Sports Club EGM. This is not an instrument to be trifled with.

Seeking an EGM over the rights of members to their legal enjoyment is wasteful.  Good sense should  prevail. 

The Club President is not only new to the Presidency, but is new to the sport. Some naughty insiders must have influenced him. The activity of the Sports Club is around the socialising and sports of its members. Anything detracting from that should be rebuffed, pure and simple.  The sale and consumption of alcohol is subject to specific legal conditions in this country. The Club has been dealing with it from its inception. As long as the laws of the land are not broken, an EGM is not required for that determination. In fact, an EGM might produce the worse effect of  overblowing a cultural quarrel that was never there in the first place.

We are losing values.

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RMC Art Club.

Sat 9 March 2019.

There were not many of us who frequented the Art Club on the 4th.floor of the classroom block of the old Sg. Besi campus on Sundays, our normal activity day. In fact Hank until today didn't know it existed. But I remember Razak Samad. He was the one who would tell us to mix some turpentine in our oil paint to give it a shine, and I'd do that. Not because getting the shine was what I wanted, but because Razak said so ! The other frequenter was a Kelantanese whose name escapes me now. It was Rahman or something. And maybe because he was from the East Coast, he was always painting sail boats.

It was the first time that I dabbled with oil and acrylic, and there was plenty of supply. There was no canvas, though, so it was large drawing paper and hard boards to the rescue. I think there was one easel, but plenty of brushes and some palette knives that I came across for the first time. I also saw my first bottle of fixative. 

I think Michael Loh was the teacher-in-charge, though no lessons were conducted. We just brought with us what we knew of "art", and a lot of enthusiasm. We didn't learn about technique, medium and painting styles, like "Chinese". We just painted.

The Club was one-classroom size, with an adjoining store fitted with broad shallow drawers the boys could store their work in. The Art Club  was one place I could "escape" to on Sundays.

I'd been keen on drawing since SMC 1 & 11 at Methodist English School Tg. Malim back in 1954-55. I even got one drawing printed in the School magazine. The Art teacher even asked me to join the school art club, which held sessions on Sundays. I was staying in the S.I.TC. residential compound just across the road (the original trunk road from KL to the north) from school. I could have easily attended the class, but unfortunately never did. One year later we moved back to Kuala Pilah. So that was that.

In Tuanku Muhammad School, Kuala Pilah, my Std. 6 teacher, Mr. D'Cruz, asked me to submit a painting for some inter-school competition. I did, but never heard of the fate of the painting.

Now painting is described as a therapy for "senior citizens" against Alzheimer's. Winston Churchill is famously known to paint a lot in his retirement years. Hank and I in our retirement years and have been talking about taking lessons and painting. So far action hasn't followed words.

When I was in Damansara Utama in the 80's I met OP Zainuddin who had been a Military Attache somewhere. He said one of my oil pantings had hung in the College dining room, and the outgoing Commandant had wanted it. If indeed the College gave it to him, my oil painting of a jeweller at work now hangs in England, somewhere. The painting was oil and palette knife on hard board, copied from a magazine I found lying in the Art Club. That's one OP's contribution from Sg. Besi across the waves to the English.

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Visiting A.K.Bear.

Sun 27 Jan 2019.

I'm sure I've written about Bear before this, but I'm writing now about our visit this morning.

Hank said earlier that a group of OP's were  to visit A.K.Bear yesterday, but I said I couldn't join them because of a prior engagement in Kuala Pilah. We agreed to do it today. Last night Hank called saying Razali wanted to join us, but to make it in the morning. So we finally met at the club around 9, and a 'phone call from Razali's wife got us the 10.30 appointment with Bear at his house. There were 5 of us - Razali, his wife and pilot son, and Hank & I.

Bear said he's 75, same as Razali. Bear had been a national tennis player since Form 5, even representing the country at that young age. We met after university because he joined Felda before the Civil Service. Through the years we would bump into each other. He frequently joined the OP's outings, often arriving late because he would always take the train to KL, which is the logical thing to do. I do it all the time, only lately preferring the bus, because it's faster. 

Bear had always appeared to be in good health then, if somewhat on the heavy side. I'd meet him at SIGC, of which he's a member but not a golfer. There are 2 hardcourt tennis courts, but they're hardly used, and lately even the nets appear abondoned. I've never seen Bear anywhere near them. He'd have his LTAM meetings at the club, and before this, often attended our club's AGM.

Sometime in 2016 or thereabout, we met at "the Giant" Ampangan. I was coming, Bear leaving. Then suddenly he fell near his Volvo, parked on the side road. I rushed to him, and so did, would you believe it, Kamariah Sabeh !(Hank might have something to say here.) As I tried to put Bear up into a sitting position on the kerb, I instructed (yes, "instructed", and in the appropriate tone) Kamariah to fetch a glass of water from the nearby restaurant, which she quickly did. When Bear appeared recovered, I asked if he could drive, to which he said "yes", and we saw him drive off home. 

The last year or so, some friends at the club said Bear was not well. Dato' Sulaiman also related about Bear getting into bad mood and tearing off his tubes when he had them for treatment. This story was borne true at his house this morning.

These were the news about Bear's ill-health. Hank and I went to Bear's house twice before this, but failed to meet him because he was in hospital both times. 

We met Bear sitting in his easy chair. He didn't get up. But he recognized us, and said he is ok. But obviously he isn't. His face looks shrunk, his large frame is smaller, and the big tennis thighs have lost their girths.  Mostly, his eyes betray the illness in his body. And he didn't say much, although he was following our talk.

Bear, Halim "Rock Foundation" (Bear's name for Halim),me and one more guy, Khalid (not an OP) were personally interviewd by the MB, the late Dr. Said, when applying for the NS State Scholarship after being accepted as undergraduates at the University of Malaya. Bear stayed at the First College, although, like us, he was from Seremban. Rock Foundation, Hank and I became housemates at the Malay Settlement, PJ, because we couldn't get into the Residential Colleges. Must be the "tennis" on his application form. Bear once had his Honda 90 motorcycle hauled up by some students all the way to the 4th. floor. There was no lift. I wonder to this day how he got the motorbike down.

Bear was also very briefly the GM for PKNS , on secondment from the Civil Service. But the adventure didn't last long. To put it simply, Bear is no politician. All his old friends know this. But we don't mind one bit. This is friendship lasting more than half-a-century. Friends can take anything.

Gratuitously I offered Bear's wife the suggestion that he reads one page of the Quran every day. It's food for the spirit, as taught to me by a religious teacher. I remarked to his son as we walked out, "look after your dad". I said to Hank as he exited my car, "pray for him, Hank".  We should supplicate for our well-being from the Merciful.  Friends can  show support and sympathy. That's what friendship is all about.

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FMC, the continuing story.

Sat 19 Jan 2019.

The FMC college gates in PD closed 57 long years ago. But the young boys, now old and many less than robust, remain in numbers, and the memories linger. Friends who got together to collect jottings of the years gone by surely are not penning the epilogue of Old Puteras of old ? For the journey continues. We were merely holding up the torch  for those coming after us.

Being the one premier education experiment for the nascent nation, FMC and its subsequent successor RMC didn't fail in producing champions in all fields as was expected of it. The heavy mixture of British staff that inevitably gave way to a fully Malaysian one did not lessen the sowing of the national spirit beating in the hearts of the boys. We were proudly multi-racial.  A few have even left our shores following destiny.  But the spirit of comradeship and the bond of nationalism have never lessen with time. Something was right in the approach to the education system  then. Or maybe it was us, the raw material. It's sad to see that the educational experimentation that continues to this day has not produced a stronger, more cohesive youth to take over the management of our beloved but often unnecessarily divided nation.

From champions in all kinds of sports at national and international levels, to prominence in the many fields of medicine,  in all  disciplines of engineering, in the teaching in, and  managing of, universities, in the practice of law, both on the bench, before the bench, as well as in teaching it,  in company management, in the Civil Service and, of course, in the Armed Forces and the Police, our OP's contribute a sizeable number of the personalities. And that number is not lacking in politics, either, though with varying shades of colours and degrees of success. The Cabinet has a very young OP, the Speaker of Parliament is a not-so-young OP, the Secretary-General of the rejected UMNO is an OP, many of the counsels for the different and opposing litigants in the flux of investigations by the authorities are OP's - even one of the prominent counsels now finding himself the subject of legal scrutiny of his own is an OP, plus that 1MDB guy. And the President of MUBARAK, the Former Legislative Members Association of Malaysia, of course, has to be an OP.

To tarry a bit on the subject of politics, maybe OP's don't make good  MP's and State Assemblymen, and by that I mean the quiet and obedient ones. I've seen enough examples, and that includes yours truly, where when it comes to the question of principles, perhaps the OP's upbringing puts him in a bind. Politics requires flexibilty. Principles are not so flexible. And I know principle has also kept my Terengganu "socialist" OP friend from entering the gory  party politicking. Maybe that's why his head is still full of black hair.

There's also "office politics". But it's still politics, and OP's, in my mind, also don't always do well here. I had my problems with one of my bosses, and I can assure you that it was about principles. We had a large number of  Chief Secretaries to the different Ministries, and some Chief Secretaries to the Government from among OP's. But there are also cases where OP's assigned to State bodies don't last long because they cannot align their styles with the MB's style. 

In my less-than-starry career, I'd move to Melaka, to KL, to Seremban,  to Port Kelang, to PJ, and finally Seremban again, and met many OP's at work or play.  When "The Weld" first opened, I bumped into Gnanalingam, who was with MTC, Kuantan. When I was in Port Kelang decades later, I bumped into him again. This time he'd move to West Port, although he didn't tell me then that he owns it (I believe another OP helped). In Felda there were several of us. Attending various conferences locally and abroad over the years, lo and behold, OP's were there. Why, one OP even managed to marry into my large extended Kuala Pilah family, and he all the way from Kedah. They had to marry in London, of course. 

Then of course there is my golf.  OP's are responsible.  

All these have kept my OP's memories fresh.

We've been through 14 GE's. That, and  60 years of  politics mean many changes.  Bigger political changes have taken place around us - Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Myanmar, even India.  Our own changes have been influenced by the scholastic background of the leaders. Maybe a  bit of military training in the schooling would have done  a world of good. 

Now they are changing the method of selection for boarding schools again, weighing in favour of the so-called "B 40" group. Which is honourable. But I hope quality is not spared. School  is the place to nurture the nation. 

I don't know how many more reunions we can attend. Time is  unrelenting. But we have our families and our memories.We can only hold on to these two for dear life. One sustains our worldly needs. The other sustains our spiritual needs.

They say we should look to the future. But shouldn't we learn from the past? My FMC days have long gone. But one or two lessons learned, and one or two friendships made, still bring a smile to my old lips.  And  light  up my old heart. 

 No, my FMC story is a continuing story, not an epitaph.

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A bit of golf.

Wed 16 Jan 2019.

I owe my golf  to two OP's.

In 1978 I was serving Felda as the "Area Controller" for NS(State Boss lah !), and the late  OP Dato' Ismail Mansor was the State Secretary. The SS's  and the MB's offices were then in the old pre-War Colonial building that was later turned into the state library. Felda had its own building close by. Ismail personally phoned me one morning. Nowadays it's always the PA or something.

       "Zam, come to my office now" he ordered.

He handed to me the Seremban International Golf Club membership application form. By virtue of being the SS, he was SIGC's V.P.

       "Sign" he ordered, again.

       "You pay the entrance fee (RM 500, at that time. It's 6,000                  now) in 2 instalments." Another order.

That's how I became SIGC Member Z 18. I was 34 and knew  nothing about golf. Tiger Woods was 2 at that time, but he was already showing-off on  tv his precocious golfing talents. So I was a non-playing, non-handicap member for 8 years, paying the club's dues of RM 20 every month, without ever stepping into the club's premises.

Hank, another OP, was my housemate during my first year at the university (there was only one solitary unversity in the country at that time). In 1986, some 18 years after our graduation, Hank suggested we take our handicap tests. He was a member of KGNS. So we practiced together at his club's driving range, because I was back in Felda HQ in KL by then. Hank took his test in KGNS, I took mine in SIGC.  Like Hank, that's how I got handicap 24 at 43. But unlike Hank, I've not stop playing since. 

When I was in Felda, I was one of the few who played then. In fact I played so much that it was 36 holes on weekends, and many leaves taken for golf. So much so, the Chairman ruled (verbally, but his word was Law) "don't take leave for golfing !". So I didn't. I mean, I still played, but this time without taking leave. Fortunately I was never caught.

When I was with MISC, we had Japanese clients who would perhaps give us 5 minutes when we visited them in their offices to talk business. But when we agreed to play golf together (and you know the Japanese are c-r-a-z-y about golf !) they would be more than happy to spend 5 hours talking busines and playing golf.

There's something about golf that caught my fancy. Maybe because I was "a mature beginner". Maybe because of Tiger. I'd been following his amateur career from 1990's including his US Amateur Championships that were shown on local tv. 

Along the way, I've held membership cards of other golf clubs, but none I cherish more than the one that says "OPA Golf Section membership no. Z 036 member since 28 / 06 / 89". Now I hear the tragic news that this course, located next to the Mines, next to  the old Sg. Besi RMC campus, is going to be closed. I plead that the powers that be spare this site. It's a real "commando" course and leaving it to golf is no loss to the area's development. Let's keep this bit of green patch for nostalgia.

Over the years I've played with other OP's, by design or accident. Shah, Nor Shaari, Md. Nor, Shukdarshan, Khairuddin, the late Yahya, and of course Hank, to name some. By design, when there were arranged games; by accident, when we bumped into each other, usually at KGNS or RSGC. There are a few OP's in Seremban, too. But sadly, one by one they're hanging up their clubs.  Hank is one. 

Being self-taught, I'd wanted to acquire the skills in this  wonderful game. Over time I'd come to realise the philosophy, the mental part of golf that can be learned. It's one game where your main opponent is yourself. It's one game where the learning never stops. In fact a new perspective to many facets of the game would appear again and again, as you play it, as you watch others play it, as you read about it, even as you reflect on your always very varied daily rounds.

In 32 years of playing the game, I'd learned that a round of golf would reveal a person's true character. An earnest attitude about improving builds character. To learn more, I'd collected 111 books and bought countless magazines. The oldest book was  printed in 1901. To help apply the theories from the books, I'd collected 121 clubs. Putters alone I have 12. I'd brought my handicap down from 24 at age 43, to 6 at age 63. That's about 18 strokes in 20 years. It doesn't seem much, but  it's entirely self-taught. And right now at 74, my handicap card says "11". That's not too bad, if I may say so myself. 

Looking at the sport as a national game, it's one where size doesn't matter. And as I play and observe,  prodigous length off the tee is not the deciding factor. It's the ideal sport for our dimunitive sportsmen to excel in.  Just look at the Thais, the South Koreans, the Japanese, the Taiwanese, the Bangladeshis and the Filipinos. 40% of all shots are in putting, using the shortest club of all.

Looking at the sport as life-long past-time, well, I'm available as an example, I think.  I took it up late. I taught myself. And I'm healthy enough to play 9 holes 5 days a week, and with a small wager to sweeten the walk, still managed for the last 15 years to make an average of RM 386 per month. Not Tiger-ish, but I'm not a pro. And it pays for lost balls.

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