History in a suitcase

Lately, I have been travelling up and down the country and there were times when I can’t even remember what day it was, which part of Britain I was in or more importantly what I was there for! So before I forget what I am going to write for this entry, I had better take my daily dose of Ginkgo Biloba and get on with it.

The problem with my memory at the moment is that I am so overloaded with information and no amount of Ginkgo or fish diet can help me now. I am trying to pack in fifty odd years of history in a memory that is in need of an upgrade. Therefore I marveled and am in awe of the people I have been meeting with over the last few weeks. They are much, much older than me, but they must have had a very rich fish diet to have retained such wonderful memory. Their minds are still fresh with memories of yesteryears. They remember dates, names of roads, buildings and people!

Take this English lady I met a fortnight ago. Who would believe that in a remote village somewhere in the south coast of Britain, there lives a fine old lady who could tell you you what transpired during the election campaigns in Malaya, what happened during the late Tun Abdul Razak’s arrival from China, or what was communicated during her tete-e-tete with the Queen during her visit to Malaysia. Who built what and when...and who said what about it!..and even in what manner it was spoken!

And all the while, I sat at her feet, with the fire crackling and burning in her fireplace to keep us warm in her not so little cottage in the village. I had taken the earliest train possible to see her and it was when night had fallen in the southern skies that I returned to London, my mind spilling with information, my battery badly in need of a recharge.

This lady, who went to Malaya in 1953 and stayed on being an active socialite and an even more active figure in the political scene, has a lot to tell. With the 50^th anniversary of the independence day coming, her memory is set to active mode once again, recalling all those events leading right up to the moment when she stood on the steps of the pavilion at the padang to watch the Union Jack being lowered. And even beyond.

To help her jolt her memory is a suitcase of letters, cards and documents from past prime ministers, former politicians from both side of the bench, famous names who visited and made her acquaintance, letterheads and postmarks from prestigious addresses, black and white photographs fraying at the edges capturing moments never to be repeated. Even envelopes, those familiar brown envelopes with URUSAN SERI PADUKA BAGINDA written across it! These are lovingly kept in plastic sleeves.

When I arrived at her house, I was met with a very cheerful Selamat datang and Apa khabar. Even after giving up her Malaysian citizenship, and coming back to live in her country of origin, she never lost touch with things Malaysian. If I am brave enough to admit, she is even more clued up with developments in Malaysia now. And now she is ready to tell her story.

Once in a while, she'd ask"Do you know Zaharah...." and I didn't know.

“Here’s my life story,” she said pointing to her suitcase full of letters and documents and pictures. All we need to do now is piece them together. I now have with me four tapes and three video tapes to look through.

Two days ago, I found myself in Liverpool. Liverpool has been a huge source of information to quench my thirst in knowledge on Malay sailors. Admittedly, there’s not many left. Many died since my last visit two years ago. During my recent visit, I was informed that a few Pak Cik sailors are not well. And Pak Cik Ngah Musa is in hospital recuperating from an operation. Even if I had five minutes, I must visit Pak cik Musa.

Two years ago, when I visited Liverpool, Pak Cik Karim was already dying in hospital. I visited him and managed to record his message to his relatives in Singapore and Australia. They didn't know he was dying. And indeed he died a week later.

From the hospital, I went to see Pak Cik Arshad, dear Pak Cik Arshad who, in spite of his Parkinson’s Disease had kept me company in the Kesatuan clubhouse when I was there. later during his last few years, he lived in a nursing home. He still remembered me as the one who put him on TV. He decorated his small but comfortable room with all things from Malaysia. Two small Malaysian flags stood on his cupboard alongside photographs of his parents. Pak Cik Arshad also died sometime after that. Pak Cik Majid, whose life I also documented on TV which then reunited him with his family, also passed away after that. The same story with Pak Cik Bakar, who baked me a cake to eat during my long train journey home to London. So, I really wanted to see Pak Cik Musa.

I met Pak Cik Musa perhaps in the nineties when I did a feature about the Malay sailor settlement there. And I have written many articles about them too. Since then many people and media have approached them too. Anyway, Pak Cik Musa is relatively young compared to the rest.

He left Malaya in 1949 at the age of 18. Now he is 77 with an excellent memory of his days at sea. I expected to see a frail old man in his hospital bed. But what a wonderful surprise. He looked so well after the operation. We had only 15 minutes before closing time, but I managed to get so many precious quotes from him; about him meeting Tunku Abdul Rahman at his rally in Hyde Park during the months before the independence, about his adventures at sea after being sent off to the Korean War and many more. All these communicated in thick and strong Terengganu accent! to him, I was Jaroh! What a beautiful mind!

Pak Cik Musa is adamant that he will go back to his Terengganu when he is well. He wants to book his plot in a cemetery in Losong, for that is where he wants to be when his time is up.

That fifteen minute meeting is so precious to me. Pak Cik Musa has given me so much and I hope, I will meet him again.

With this massive overloading of information, please excuse me if I disappear for awhile. I need to recharge my battery and more importantly, I have loads of interviews that I need to transcribe

More on pak cik sailors:

Tribute to an old man and his sea
Goodbye Pak cik and Thanks for the memories

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