Lest We Forget Part 1

Years ago, I travelled hours on the train to Liverpool when I heard that there’s a community of old Malay sailors there.

I was also told about the memorial that was built right at the bank of the Mersey River in memory of the war dead – among them sailors from the Malay world whose services were much sought after by ship captains to work in ships cruising the oceans in the early part of the last century.

As I have written earlier here and here, many died at sea in harsh stormy weather, in the relentless battle at sea and they are forever lost in that big graveyard at the bottom of the ocean. On my numerous trips to Liverpool, I’d list down the names – Malay names of sailors who must have come from Malaya, Singapore and Indonesia- and wondered what happened to them. I'd talk to many who are willing to share. My interest in them and their untold stories have never diminished.

Many who survived, were kind enough to share with me their stories.

Those who survived

The few articles that I have written about them have had numorous interests, especially when it resulted in the reunion with families who thought that they must have perished at sea. One letter I received was from a daughter of an old sailor who never returned. The father left when she was still in her mother’s tummy. She wanted me to find the whereabouts of her father and went to the extent of blaming herself for her father not returning.

But one email from a Dr B has made me look at these stories more seriously. My articles had triggered some interest in him and since then, we have become friends. We met several times and we talked about nothing else but the Malay sailors.

Dr B came again to London last week. He is at the moment spending time with the Malay community in Liverpool, part of his research. I envy him the time he can afford to be with them, tapping in on their experience.

Anyway, we met up last week. And he said he was visiting the Commonwealth War Memorial in London. At that point, I pushed all my work aside and took the train to meet him in Tower Hill.

Just at the doorstep of Tower Hill Station, in front of the Tower of London, is this big memorial with 24,000 names of sailors who died at sea! And I didnt even know about it!

Both of us were gobsmacked. We didnt expect it to be that big- and names to be that many. So, Dr B and I, - a odd pair – if I must say so, left with aching neck, having to look up the cloumns and columns of names listing ships and names of those who perished. Many with just Hassan B, Ismail A, Omar....

There were signs of relatives who had located their loved ones – and this you see from the flowers and poppies stuck by their names.
Others from our part of the world are just another name, another victim. Their relatives still did not know of their fate, or about this memorial.
We wondered, looking at other people there eating ice cream on the bench opposite and seeking shelter from the harsh sun that was out that day, we wondered whether we were the only ones interested.

Nursing our aching necks, we crossed over to a cafe in front of the Tower of London. Sipping our Avian and watching the tourists do their tourist bit, I thought out loud,” Isn’t this funny! How English this piece of history is right before our eyes, but both of us are interested in that big monument right opposite it!”

But needless to say, both have strong links to each other...one the result of the big British Empire that brought many to their door steps from across the world.
My interest in the Malay sailors have led me to scour the book shops and libraries and I found this. An interesting read about the influx of foreigners to the British shores.
Dr. B is English, but he lives out in the East. I am from the East and I live here in the west. He is more comfortable being out there as I am here. He is young while I am, er, well... but we have been brought together by this one interest – the Malay sailors.
We parted company that sunny evening, with many more things left unsaid. He has gone back to Liverpool to be among the Pak Ciks and will return to Singapore soon. How I wish I can attach a bluetooth to his head – and extract whatever he has stored in there!

But we will meet again, no doubt - we promised each other, this August- and the stories of the Pak Cik sailors will be given another airing.