Revisitting Makkatul Mukkarramah.

 Sun 26.2.2023 (5 Sya'ban 1444).

Praise the Lord, in 2 days time I'll be leaving for Madinah, and after 4 days, for Makkah, for the 2nd time after about 40 years. I'm with the wife, joining No. 3 Son and his family for the "Umrah & Ziarah", insya'allah.

My first visit for the hajj  was about 40 years ago. I was not quite 39 and went alone because No. 3 Son was only about a year old. We didn't want to leave him with strangers for 40 days. Now it's his wish that we join him for this Little Pilgrimmage. It'll be for 12 days.

There have been tremendous changes in Makkah and Madinah, of course, and I'm looking forward to seeing them. The costs have also seen tremendous increases. That's to be expected. But No. 3 Son insists that his mother must come, so here I am. I think it sets him back about 80 K. My 1983 visit only cost me 5 K. 

Yesterday we had a small prayer meeting in Seremban as a way of announcing the holy trip to our immediate family members. So I took the opportunity to let everybody know who's financing us. I added my thanks, and also added that hopefully the budget set aside would also include some "pocket money"!

Joke aside, I'm grateful to God that an offspring has answered the call for the Holy visit. I have never reminded the children about this "rukun". I pray that  the realisation happens. But I have given all 4 of them the basic lessons of Islam when in primary school. In fact Kak Zah, our old neighbour in Damansara Utama, calls this No. 3 Son "usataz", because the religious school is near her place, and he always attended the afternoon classes in baju melayu, like an ustaz.

I've attempted to immerse myself, this last month, in the spirit of the holy visit. Old phamplets have been re-read, old prayers pored over and the translations jotted down. My age says this would be a final visit. I hope to at least experience the sense of piety I know is not easy to evoke. 

I answer your Call, O God, I answer your Call. All Praise, Joy and Governance are yours. Nothing shares your Will.

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Abdul Manan bin Abas: Honourable bearer of The Military Cross.

 Tues. 23.2.2023.

The citation says:

"During a period of 6 days, the platoon commanded by this young Malay Officer entirely eliminated the Sempalit branch of the Communist Terrorist organisation. 2 terrorists were captured. A District Committee Member was killed by a Section Commander and Lieutenant Manan while on patrol, and the remaining 2 surrendered.

A week later, Lieutenant Manan led his platoon with a surrendered terrorist in an endeavour to capture 2 terrorists, one of whom was particularly wanted alive by the Police. Lieutenant Manan approached the bushes and called them to surrender, but they ran away. Lieutenant Manan chased one of them for 250 yards, and caught up with him, forcing him to surrender. The terrorist was armed with a knife and a grenade. Both this action, and the one in which the Sempalit Terrorist organisation was eliminated, were really fine examples of fighting spirit and determination."

The recommendation was by Lieut. Col. F.F. Laugher, the Commanding Officer of the 6th. Battalion of the Malay Regiment, endorsed by the General Officer Commanding, Malaya, Lieut. General G. K. Bourne, and approved by the Commander-in-Chief Far East Land Forces in Singapore. 

Kuala Selangor-born Lieutenant Abdul Manan bin Abas, Army number 2402, of the 6th. Battalion of the Malay Regiment, aged 31, received the highly coveted and rare Military Cross in 1954. 

This year Major (R) Abdul Manan will be 100. God Bless him.

After the interview in his house in Zoo View, Ulu Kelang, yesterday, I said by now the Malaysian Armed Forces library ought to already have a book on Major Abdul Manan. If not, this should be written now. The 2 hours spent listening to this very lucid Ol' Warrior didn't do justice to the exploits of the man. The three of us on this mission of collecting valuable interviews from a number of FMC alumni would certainly  put this gem of a piece right there in a prominent section of the proposed book. But it would not do justice to Major Abdul Manan. A book solely about him must be published.

The years have taken their toll on the old soldier, that's obvious, of course. But his memory is excellent, and the words were gushing out of him with hardly any prompting. With what he has achieved in his military career, it would be a big loss if someone doesn't tap the history of the Malaysian army he has stored in his memory. The armed exploits of the "emergency" days alone merit recording for lessons to be learnt, not for the Armed Forces College only, but for the general population as well.

Manan went to Sandhurst, too, for heaven's sake. That's no small achievement. And he returned home, not just with his military diploma, but also an Irish wife.  We met the wife and 2 English-looking sons, too.  Now that calls for a full and different story.

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S'pore wedding, Police matters, traffic woes.

 Sun Feb. 12, 2023.

February seems a busy month, suddenly. There was a wedding to attend. Then the KP Police asked to sort out the gun licencing matters now, rather than in June, the normal schedule all these 27 years I've had the .22 rifle. And in between was the one-day political meeting at the Royale Chulan, rushing to Tabung Haji KL to collect the passports for the Singapore trip, and some frantic search for SingDollars and Saudi Riyals. As if that wasn't enough, I had to reluctantly look for a doctor (on a Sunday) for the bad case of cough & cold since returning from Singapore.

My late brother-in-law married a Singaporean. One of their daughters came all the way from Singapore last month just to personally invite us to her daughter's wedding. It was a gesture we couldn't possibly ignore. So we got Bal & Kamil to pick us for the 3-day trip. There was no point in rushing 500 miles south and back all in one day. We thought the traffic alone would tire us. And we were right.

I can't remember when was the last time I crossed the causeway. There was a time that, staying with a cousin in Larkin, JB, I even sneaked alone across to Woodlands, still in my sarong after breakfast, just to buy a few cans of tinned fruit. These were half the price in Malaysia, then. But this was when the exchange was 1:1 ha ha. Ya, that long ago ! The immigration was a breeze.

This time it was different. The que. The wait. The boot check. The papers' scrutiny. The front-car passport foul-up (both ways - in and out of Singapore) that took nearly 20 minutes. And the uniformed Immigration officers even managed to talk about the weekend and tv among themselves (we could hear them) while holding up their work. Luckily Kamil's "waze" remained connected, so finding Jalan Ubi, the venue, was no problem. Except, on reaching the building, we found the "entry" blocked with cones, and Kamil simply took the "out" lane into the parking area. Not so simple, man. This is Sin-cha-poh!. The security came after us and gave a lecture. Luckily, it ended there.

Wani's daughter that got married is a stewardess with SIA. The husband is an engineer. Another neice in Seremban is also a stewardess - with MAS. Ai's late first wife, too, was a stewardess. This seems a family thing. 

Kamil's "waze" wasn't on, on the return journey - no internet, no local SIM card. "Just follow PIE" one of the Singapore relatives said. Well, "pie" didn't taste good, because we were obviously going round and round. Kamil stopped at a bus stop and got that Indian boy to share his "waze", and we eventually made it across the causeway.

It was very wet, our entire stay in JB and Singapore. So there was no shopping. Some money saved there. But the hotel was good, and Mizi asked to stop-over in Keluang, and that made the whole trip ok. Plus I got SaudiRiyal 200 from Mizi from his recent Umrah.

Mizi's m.i.l. prepared a spread worthy of royalty. If Kamil didn't fulfil the promise to stop over, it would have been sinful. Her lunch AND tea (simultaneous) preparation must have taken some effort. I was sick and couldn't do justice to the great meal presented. Even so, I managed to put away much more than I'd expected. There was fish, and lobsters, and condiments and veggies. Then the tea and cakes and fruits. And then, would you believe it, there was durian, ordered on the spot! I don't think Idah can outdo Mizi's m.i.l. Not with her finest of china (Idah's weak point !)

The KP Police wrote. I needed to register for target practice as part of the gun licence renewal. So that's 2 trips to KP - to register, and to shoot at the Senaling shooting range. On the shooting date I got Jimikoling to buy me breakfast at 8 am in the stalls in front of his house. It does not end there. In June I have to go to the Terachi Police Station to get the actual licence issued. And in the meantime, next week I have to get the letter from the Agriculture Department in Jempol regarding my 12-gauge shotgun application. You see, for reasons of their own, the KP Police wants all rifles to be replaced with 12-gauge shotguns. I wonder why.

Late last month No. 3 Son collected our passports to give to the TH Travel from LTH for visa-issue for Umrah. Since we had to go to Singapore, I had to "borrow" the passports. So very early Thursday morning I drove to KL, anticipating heavy traffic. I set on "waze". Traffic was so heavy, waze took me to Universiti Pertanian grounds, its housing estate, through Kompleks Sukan Negara, Jalan Kuchai lama and God know where, and finally arrived at Tabung Haji KL 2.5 hours later ! Returning to Seremban on waze again, I was taken to Jalan Cheras, Bukit Dukung, Kajang-Semenyih. Rinching, Sg. Jai, Mantin and Temiang - a return route I took for the first time in my 78 years ! It must have been the heavy PLUS traffic. It was 15 minutes shorter than the Seremban-KL trip. Whew!

Happily, returning the passports on Tuesday, after the Thaipusam holiday, was less traumatic. Waze took me on the normal PLUS route and it was less than 2 hours each way. I must renew my commuter card for Senior Citizens. RM 9 return. 3 hours total.

The 8th. decade.

 Wed 4.1.2023.

4 days ago a group of us gathered at Md. Sham's beautiful Bkt. Jeluting bungalow. All were at least 78 (except for ND's grand-nephew and the OPA Sec who were invited) The oldest is 9 years older than me, and I passed my 78th birthday last month. You figure his age. (He's in great shape, notwithstanding his years.)

To me the biggest thing was that we, the selected attendees, enjoyed the long-enduring company, savouring the small talk, reminiscencing a few personal stories, all obviously enjoying the shared moment in the comfortable ambience of the luxurious abode. This was our chosen appointment to celebrate the new year coming the very next day.

And like the PD affair 2 weeks earlier, we ended with the glorious durian !

I was so enjoying the forbidden fruit (I'm diabetic) laid in the front compound of the house, that when those with me started to leave, I followed suit, and forgot to say good-bye to the gracious hosts. I whatsapped my apologies on the phone. And it opened a torrent of whatsapps to Md. Sham and the missus with the same messages.

2022 for me was memorable for many reasons. The passage of time is noted in my mind, of course. That I'm holding on, in mind and body, is a fact I treasure. Too many people around me, relatives, friends and neighbours, have left, leaving only memories,  of talks, and shared experiences. A few times, regarding family members, I wondered what was missed out in the past when  together.

My dad passed away 43 years ago at a relatively early age of 58. My mom outlived him by 30 years, leaving us at 87. All uncles and aunties from both sides are gone. Many first cousins are also gone, some at relatively young ages. You appreciate the health you still enjoy all the more, I think.

The inevitable can't be dismissed. I've been trying to adjust to that in any way I can. I try to put emphasis to what I can enjoy today, in terms of food and activities, and try put less importance to worldly things. I got rid of my troublesome "S Class", transferred my house to my daughter (against the wife's protestations - "what if she chase us out ?"), wrote a brief note of goodbye to the 4 children (they don't know this, they will have to find the note), and listed my current accounts and the numerous monetary obligations that need to be resolved against my small estate, if any, later.

I'm not an "ustaz", but whatever Islamic lessons that I've listened to, or studied about, make me want to resolve my obligation to my Creator accordingly. I accept that the daily prayers are obligatory. From age 10, they are compulsory. I performed the haj  when I was not yet 39. Rounding it up to age 40, I had to assess the quality of my "solats" back to age 10, a 30-year period. I have not entirely failed to perform them all this while, but I was certain many daily prayers had been missed these 30 years, to age 40. So for the last 30 years, I performed each daily solat twice. By 21.12.2022, arithmetically I had covered all 30 years of solats hitherto spottily performed ! In truth, the quality of the ritual, I don't know. I humbly leave it to God.

The fasting in Ramadhan I have not missed, but for a few days, in all these years. Still, I try to do the "puasa qada'" whenever I can, but the underperformance is not in the same magnitude of my solat misses.

The youngest grandchild will be 2 this year.. He's no. 12, an even dozen. My 4 kids are ok on their own, as far as I can see. The oldest grandchildren are a boy and a girl, both 18 this year and doing their forms 5. I will have to be 83 before I can see them out of college and working. Some of my golf-mates have working college graduate grandchildren already. But they are 5 years my senior, so I'm not far behind. I pray that I'll match them, in due age.

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The Hat Yai trip.

 Tues 27.12.2022.

Kak Long had planned for a Christmas trip to Hat Yai by ETS. Heavy bookings for this period forced the reschedule to an earlier date of 21st December until 24th. But we nearly missed the whole trip, thanks to an unforgivable  carelessness by Idah. And this had happened before, also on a trip to Thailand - to Bangkok.

In the Bangkok case, having arrived early at the airport, I'd parked Idah within sight of the electronic departure board, showing the changing times and departure gates. With almost an hour to spare, and Idah at that time having problems walking long stretches, we agreed she wait on the seats available, so I could do some window-shopping around the vast expenses of the Bangkok airport. 

Of course the gates changed. And Idah didn't notice.

It took a frantic Kak Long pushing an empty wheel chair to retrieve Idah and board the aircraft as the last passanger on the last call.

This time it was a miracle of sorts that saved the day.

One month ago we all had agreed on this ETS trip. Wafa, our granddaughter of 8, has been very close to her grandmother. From an infant to this day she even sleeps with her. On hearing about the trip, she insisted she was coming. Finally Dekna, her mom, relented and Haniff, her husband arranged for the issue of her own passport. This wasn't possible before. I also took a letter of consent from Haniff. Just in case.

One month ago I had inquired about Idah's passport status. "Ok" was the simple response she gave. I should have checked. I didn't.

The train was to leave Kajang, where everybody decided to leave together from, at 10.01 a.m. on Wednesday, 21st December. Kak Long had warned that the ETS is always on time.  This was later borne out true.

Tuesday evening, 20th. December, at 8.40 p.m., I'd just done my Isyak prayers when Kak Long called, asking for our passports' numbers, for insurance coverage. That was when I discovered that Idah's passport had expired in May, 2021 !

Fortunately, Kak Long said UTC, where the Immigration is, closes at 10 p.m. There was still time. Dekna took her mother. The UTC is only 400 m away. They just made it, but the place was already closing down. Normally one would have to get the turn's number first, before queing for the actual passport process. I don't know what actually transpired, but Dekna managed to get all except the printing of the passport done. At 8 the next morning, our departure date, we were told to jump que and collect the printed new passport. 

In fact we had to wait 1 full hour. We were there at 8 sharp, having waited 30 minutes for the main gates to be open. 

At 9 sharp we rushed to Kajang, via the Lekas highway. After 2 false turns (1 on the Kajang town turn from the Lekas highway, and 1 on the train station departure gate) we made it into the lift taking us to the departure hall of the station at probably 6 or 7 minutes to the official departure time. We had to rush down the long stairway, struggling with our luggage, when an escalator would have been helpful. We joined the waiting group, waiting for the due coaches, at exactly 10 am. Kak Long saw us coming, with the broadest smile of relief. It was massive. Because Kakak, her eldest daughter, also arrived at the very same time with us from Seremban. (Later there were many trip delays in the 4-day stay all because of Kakak. But she was only behaving to form. In previous trips abroad together, Kakak only followed her own clock. It was always slower than others). We all tumbled into the first open coach door. It turned out to be the correct coach, the first one. At 10.01 as promised, the doors shut, and the train moved. Phew !

The Kajang-Padang Besar trip took 6.5 hours, with stops at practical all stations. There is only one dining coach, which ran out of food after 2 stations. The very brief stops did not give us time to jump out and buy food and drinks. Plus there were no hawkers on the platforms and within easy reach, like they had in the good old days, selling "kacang putih", snacks and even "sireh". Fortunately Idah had anticipated the situation (the passport case was different), and brought enough "mee goring" for everyone. But it was one small serving each. Still it helped fight the hunger that was only sated at a restaurant all the way in Hat Yai. The train ride was nice, with the changing scenery out of the large glass windows, the ample air-conditioning, the charging ports (important with the gadgets these days), plenty of leg-room for stretching and walk-about, the adequate but poorly-supplied toilets, and the prayer booth for max 3 and no qiblat.

Padang Besar is a renovated station and now looks a suitable-looking entry point from the Thai side. The Thailand-entry document-processing was ok, the premises clean and cool. There was an electronic lane provided, but in one case involving one of the group's members, having entered the electronic lane, she was made to double back into the manual lane because of some undetected affirmative recording, or something. Returning into Padang Besar on 24th December, the Thai officers behaved stickily in one window. The lady Immigration officer let through some of us without the finger-scans, but in my case they made me put all 10 fingers for scanning. And she also demanded the filling-up of a form by the van driver whom we had to call in because he stayed put in the vehicle, seeming unaware of the requirement although he is a regular traveller here.

The one real complain for me is the ridiculous situation where there should be easy movement from the Malaysian railway station to the Thai entry point. We had to take 2 taxis from the KTM disembarkation side to the Thai Immigration side, taking a long route under a tiny one-vehicle tunnel. In fact an overhead bridge is already in place, making it just a lengthy walk from one side to the other. Why this facility is closed puzzles me. Our van driver said that the bridge denied the taxi drivers an income. What is the concern here, the income of a few taxi drivers, or the comfort of the citizenary ? The taxi service should respond to people's need, isn't it ?

The 4-day-3-night Hat Yai trip was enjoyable. For friends and relatives who haven't done it, I would strongly recommend it. Hotel and breakfast was good. The street-shopping was plentiful, and sightseeing was great. Food was familiar and cheap. The streets were clean, the facilities good. In one particular beach resort, facing the South China Sea, the "surau" and the toilets were extremely clean.

I had been to Hat Yai before, but that must have been at least 32 years ago. I went for golf, but not at the course I saw this time on the way to Songkhla. This was trim-green with moderate-height trees just by the main road. My memory of my old visit is vague. It was an old-looking golf course, with large trees providing cover as well as  obstruction for golfers. 

Some small money could have been saved if I got the senior-citizen discount for the ETS. But they insisted that I appear in person. This is one area Malaysia falls behind even its ASEAN neighbours. A scan on the photo should suffice, surely.

Ku Am and Yati did save some money, though. Only, they saved money but missed the company's enjoyment, which is priceless. You can go again, with the very same people, but that would be a different thing. They cancelled the Hat Yai part, choosing to stop at Alor Star, and rejoing us on 24/12 on the trip home to Kajang. All because of reports of flooding in Hat Yai. They forget that the weather changes, and current reports are always avaiable for update.

Kak Long talked of a cruise from Port Kelang to Penang, taking a few days. I don't think I want to look at Selat Melaka and the walls of the ship for a few days.  If it is for Batam and the Riau Islands, I might consider, provided there are landings stops.

We tour to see different places, meet different people, taste different cuisines, feel different weather. It doesn't have to be far away places. We can still enjoy our Terenggau or Langkawi trips. The part of getting there, like the train ride to Padang Besar, is as much the fun as reaching the journey's end. And good company helps make the lapse of time shared fun.

That was the Hat Yai trip.  Sawdee kap !!

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The 70th anniversary of FMC -PD

 Sun 18.12.2022

Yesterday I counted 48 of us "Budak Boys" from intake 1952, the first year, to intake 1961, the last year for the Port Dickson campus of the original Federation Military College who made it to what would be the 70th Anniversary of the school. A few wives, some children and a few grandchildren also made it. The BB's, as was to be expected, were in different stages of aging. The important point was 48 of us made it. A few needed walking sticks, but all could walk across the former airstrip from the Bentara Hall to the dining hall. We registered attendance  at the Bentara Hall from 10 a.m. as scheduled, witnessed the planting of the 2nd tree to the 2019 one, and left the dining hall  by half-past-two. That was also on schedule, although the tour around the entire camp was not completed. The event was deemed a success, and BB Radzi, the President announced one final outing next year. Hopefully.

A lot of time and effort was spent in preparation. The Director of the NCO College that now occupies the old camp went out of his way in assisting us, and ensured everything went well. We were waited on by the soldiers, men and women, like bosses. Even the surau on the 2nd floor of the classroom building had a soldier stationed there to look after needs of the faithful. Certainly everybody involved went beyond giving basic help. But I would easily call it the Nawawi Desa's show.

BB Nawawi was responsible for putting together everything. The preparation in PD, the support of the Major-General in charge of the entire Military Training Schools, and the Commandant of RMC Bkt Belimbing, the month-long series of visits and meetings, right up to Friday, were all made possible by BB Nawawi. A few of us always make bad jokes about him behind his back. In our hearts, we only have appreciation for his tireless work. 

More BB's were expected, but those who couldn't come all had good reasons, mostly medical. Our numbers are reducing, of course. About half of the original 700 have left us. About 100 can't be traced. 50 have migrated, mostly to Australia and New Zealand. So these reunions are always cherished.

We had several "food-stalls". There was the rice stall, with Negri red-hot "gulai lada api", other dishes also for the rice, satay stall, "ikan bakar", grilled mutton, all sorts of refreshments including "ice kacang" and cendul. There was rambutan and mangosteen. And there were durians. All of 4 varieties - IOI, D24, kawin, and kampong. The durians came all the way from Manchis, Pahang. The PD durians are gone, as were the KP, Bukit Putus and Jelebu ones. Md. Sham paid RM 4,200 for about 100 durians.

A group had gone to Bentong to sample some durians there before this. But the fruit-seller couldn't promise delivery for the 17th, which was then 2 weeks away. The 5 who went gorged themselves with "Musang Kings" at a "cheap" RM 40 per kilo while they were there. "Dulu 65 O !" With 3 taking "tapaus" (against Md. Sham's admonition) altogether the fruit-seller collected RM 1 K. Neat. To allay Md. Sham's initial objection to transporting the durians in his wife's van, the skinned fruit was packed in plastic boxes. We could still get a faint scent of the culprit, but later Md. Sham said the wife didn't complain. Actually she wasn't feeling well, and her sense of smell was out. Md. Sham was saved.

Before lunch we had speeches and presentations in the Assembly Hall. Halim Murad was the Master-of-Ceremony, and I thought he did ok, and told him so. Audiances can be fickle, and MC's have flopped before. BB Radzi as President gave the key address. The 2nd edition of "I Remember" was belatedly launched, the good efforts of BB's Mahbob and Hank. These were later put on sale during lunch. They are being distributed in some schools by donors, and should make good reading for the students, because they are reminiscenes of the College students, not made-up stories.

I enjoyed Saturday. For the first time I brought along my wife. She quickly made friends with the other wives. That made her day, I'm glad to say.

We skipped the planned tour of the whole camp, because most also chose to skip it. We took the PD town route, returning to Seremban. The beach was full of pitted tents of campers - the product of the school holidays, of course. All appeared to be over-nighters. I wondered if there were  mosquitoes.

I also wonder when the next visit to the FMC Camp would be.

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5-12-2022

 78 today.

How am I supposed to feel ?

The children, one after another, messaged their good wishes.

Plus a few friends who seemed to follow. At least those I'm aware of.

5 BB's (Budak Boys) from PD days took a trip to Bentong to sample some durians. Hank and I drove from Seremban to join the other 3 waiting at Bukit Jelutong, Shah Alam. We were here only a few days ago, when we gathered, about a dozen of us, at Halim Rejab's beautiful double-storey bungalow. Today we rendesvoused at Md. Sham's equally grand abode, also at Bukit Jelutong. These people seemed blessed with expensive, lovely homes. They must cost a bundle.

Both meetings were about our planned re-visit of the old FMC campus at PD this 17th. December.

The Bentong trip was regarding one item for the 17th do - the durians.

Nawi had suggested this Bentong trip after Halim Rejab's house. Only Md Sham's MPV limited space prevented more than 5 from going, allowing for the driver.

The seller was contacted on my phone, and he quickly gave his location, even as we were driving through Bentong town. Modern communication ! We drove into the stall's parking area in minutes. No time was wasted in opening a couple of Musang Kings, and enjoying the expensive fruit. 

That was how I enjoyed my birthday today.

But I didn't let on. The durian feast set us back almost a thousand dollars (including the tapaus) Md Sham paid for the eaten lot, while Hank, Wahab Nawi (Navy) and NMD paid for their tapaus. If they knew that it was my birthday, I could have been 1,000 poorer!

I couldn't contain myself, and had to tell Hank about my birthday when we stopped for coffee and toast with half-boiled eggs at the Dengkil R&R on the way home. I'm sure Hank will divulge this info, but I'll be safe. But just now Sha Janggut showed he'd somehow got hold of today's pics, and as always, noted also about my birthday. Or maybe Hank's already at work.

So what happens to the durian purchase ?

Md Sham agreed that I finalise the supply from Seremban. My nephew's old KGV schoolmate has agreed to provide the durians (minus any Musang King, to control the expense) from his Manchis source. A downpayment has been arranged, thanks to Md Sham. I'll go to the Camp soon to alert the gate security about the delivery. And I just whatsapped Jimmy Ong to not miss the durian feast.

Meanwhile I'm at my lap top, savouring my 78th. year.

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