Magical merdeka moments...

As I walked up the sweeping staircase of this magnificent mansion, I allowed my mind to run riot for a bit. Now, did our prince who was to become the father of the nation, skip two steps at a time in excitement anticipating the moment when he was to sign the treaty that proclaimed our independence or did he, as befitting his status and title, walk slowly but surely as he had done throughout the months leading up to the negotiation fifty one years ago? I believe, our beloved Tunku, being the fun guy that he was, judging from the interviews that I had with his friends and those who worked with him, would have skipped a bit, if no one was looking. He would be singing the dondang sayang silently, or do a jig of the ronggeng – his heart bursting with joy.

Last night, I retraced his footsteps as I entered Lancaster House as this early nineteenth century building, in the leafy and secluded corner of St. James’ almost next door to the Queen’s, once again hosted a historic occassion for our country. Lancaster House was the venue for the 50^th Merdeka reception, hosted by the Malaysian High Commission in London. I was in awe of the surroundings, the ornate decorations, the opulence and the grandeur – everything that had been witness to the birth of so many new nations.

So, if this is the climax of my hectic schedule running up and down the country during the last few months, then I am happy. Deliriously so. I had just got off the Eurostar from Paris in time for the toastmaster to clear his throat and call out the names of dignitaries attending the reception. I was so exhausted after days of trainhopping from Manchester to Liverpool to Edinburgh to Paris, London and back to Paris. I am so tired of going back to an empty hotel room and living out of a suitcase and I am so tired of going to sleep in a big empty bed with only the TV set speaking to me as I doze off to lalaland. But Lancaster House and all its magnificience and all its history made it worth every single sleep that I had missed.

Earlier I had plans to blog about the the meeting with the Scottish ex-servicemen in Edinburgh who talked of Malaya as if it was their own country. I wanted to write about their passion for the country that they had so much respect and love for, about the people they said were so warm and friendly. I also wanted to write about the eve of the 50^th anniversary that I spent with Datin Peggy Taylor, Frederick Lees and his wife Marie, and Jean and Barry Floyd in the beautiful picturesque town of Rye. Frederick and Marie and of course Datin Taylor were there on 31^st August 1957 and they could talk about the times they were in Malaya till the Sussex cows come home. jean and Barry, having worked in Malaysia for a long time, know more about our country then we do. Peggy was in her batik baju kurung and Barry in his batik shirt.

Peggy was a close friend of Tunku and had been his confidante on a lot of things, not least his choice of the bunga raya as the national flower. Fred lees, was of course the Englishman who shouted Merdeka from the control room at the Merdeka Stadium. One can sit for hours and listen to Fred. He has a way of telling stories and and make you laugh. Fred, as a young MCS officer worked with the Tunku, Tun Razak and many others. But one very important task that he carried out was organising the programme for the big day. From the copy of his programme, you can see every minute detail was planned with military precision. But, according to Fred, no one anticipated the school bus that went into the monsoon drain nearby!

Fred talked about how Tunku would come up with ideas at the last minute. Walking with the Duke of Gloucester to their seats in the stadium, Tunku popped his head into the control room where Fred was sitting with Syed Jaafar Albar and said:

“Albar, when we are walking back after the ceremony, shout Merdeka into the microphone,” which of course Syed Jaafar Albar did until he lost his voice and the responsibility fell on to the young MCS officer that was Fred. In that joyous and happy atmosphere, no one knew any better whose voice it was that shouted Merdeka into the microphone 50 years ago. Fred will go down in history as the Englishman who shouted Merdeka!

Yes, I wanted to write all that – and now I have. We had a kind of mini celebration eating salmon and salad with fried rice that Marie made. I had brought with me nasi lemak and sambal ikan bilis that Peggy instantly demolished with vigour. We even had a mini Malaysian flag flying on the table. It was a beautiful day – one that I’d like to write about properly, some day.

Rushing back from Rye, both my husband and I fell silent – each with our own thoughts. We had our own agenda. And we scribbled them down. That evening, straight from Fred’s house in Rye, we went to the special doa selamat do at the surau in Malaysia Hall. For the first time, we enjoyed some sajaks that our bilal read, the one that my husband scribbled on the train and the syair that I hastily composed on the 1550 from Rye. Our young talented Ustaz did a nasyid – all of us remembering our beloved nation in our own way.

Then we prayed for the continued safety, peace and prosperity of our country.

The food after the event was like no other!

And of course I wanted also to blog about the celebration in Paris, chatting till late at night with Chef Wan, but I think it is best that I leave that with the celebration that I am about to enjoy in Oslo tomorrow.

Yes, it sounds a little hectic but there were moments when I let my hair down when I enjoyed an evening with Mawi, shared a song with Sharizan Borhan and enjoyed the beautiful Melayu asli songs with the Asika band who made Ala Canggung like I have never heard before!

Will be back after Oslo!

Read the story as appeared in Sunday Times here.