At an age when marriages were more often arranged, Abah (1902-1989) chose his own bride, leaving her other suitors envious for a long, long while. He was 36, she was 16 and within 20 years they brought 8 children of different personalities into the world. As the children grow into their busy years, whether they realize it or not, the footprints Abah left behind continue to guide them in their life paths.
Abah could not have known the meaning of the word “professional” in those days, but that was exactly how he conducted himself throughout his years in government service. During the colonial period, Abah completed schooling up to “Standard 8”, a level equivalent to Form Four today, leaving school only to join the work force in order to supplement his parents’ income from rubber tapping and support the family. After several odd jobs, Abah registered with the federal government service and enrolled in a short course that qualified him to be a Geological Surveyor Assistant in the Geological Survey Department.
Evidently proud of his work, Abah used to tell us about the purpose of his field trips and the processes involved in tracing minerals in rocks. Sometimes before a trip he would show me the exploration map and the reports he prepared upon his return. Abah would be away for a week or two in the jungle each time and these were anxious days for mum. We were too young to worry too much, but after Abah related how, on one trip, a tiger prowled around their tents for several nights, I dreaded the times Abah was away and counted the days endlessly. My first sight of leeches were those Abah came home with in his boots. Abah’s return was always an exciting time for us. Sometimes he brought home smoke-dried deer meat that mum would turn into delicious rendang.
From his daily office routine to the field trips, punctuality and discipline at work were unshakeable laws that he grounded in us. Discipline included having a good night’s sleep and taking enough food before work. I guess that was how Abah showed his caring self in his no-nonsense manner, to the young men from the kampong whom he hired for each field trip. Some of them stayed the night at our home before a trip and it was during these times that I saw Abah’s high empathy for his wards and how he took care of their welfare. Once my sister and I followed him to Mersing in a land rover to deliver their salaries at their homes by the seafront. These were the rare times that Abah showed his gentler side, when he brought us into each of their homes to convey his thanks personally to them and their parents. He was known to be generally curt to staff in the office, but in these fishermen’s homes I only saw the warmest smiles on his face and respectful small talk while he nodded approvingly at my unabashed repeat helpings for the tea, kueh and goreng pisang served.
Whatever formal learning he acquired was passed down to us as he coached each one of us on most nights during our primary and early secondary school years, as much as he could especially in Mathematics and English. These sessions were not the most exciting times of our days then, though we can now look back and rejoice over them, as Abah was a hard driver who would not tolerate any slacking in concentration. While the girls were subjected to fearsome nagging, my brother, the only boy in the family, was privy to a very firm tear jerking twisting of the ear from time to time. My eldest sister who later became a school teacher, could not escape his style and was reputed to be a cane swishing dedicated teacher with whom the students had a love-hate relationship.
Abah could lecture about the beginnings of the earth, volcanoes and the planetary system better than any of my geography teachers. I always felt his sense of awe at God’s work of creation whenever he went over the subject with me again and again, sometimes holding me up against my will during my playtime. He was also my first English teacher who instilled in me my passion for the language. Not neglecting our own language and Jawi, he put his first 5 children, including me, in the Malay medium primary school before we entered the English stream through the “Special Malay Class” in Standard Four. Using whatever materials he could afford, from two-way dictionaries, dreary old books from the second hand bookshop and the “Straits Times”, Abah drilled me daily in comprehension and vocabulary. It was our mutual joy when I presented my ‘top of the class’ distinction marks for English at the end of each term throughout my primary and secondary school years.
We lived in government housing quarters throughout Abah’s years in government service. These were decent 3-room single storey semi-detached houses as far as I can remember. Five girls usually cramped in one room while the babies slept with mum and Abah and the only brother took one room. We were happy enough, too anxious about essential matters like food and clothes, to complain about sleeping arrangements. If I had sometimes cried while walking to school on days that Abah could not provide school fees or books on time, he must have cried inside more often as five of us were schooling at one time and education was always a sacred matter to Abah. On a salary of less than RM1000 per month, he saw his 8 children through school. All but one completed secondary education to secure long-standing careers, 5 obtained tertiary education and 4 went into the government service that he was so proud of.
Our diet those days were simple, but Abah made sure it contained adequate body-building foods. We were seldom short of eggs, sardines, ikan bilis and milk (evaporated and condensed) among other essentials and the frequent santan in gravy and “pengat” could only have been more beneficial than otherwise for it made our simple meals special each time. He lectured us against sluggish brains and teased that no amount of powder (make-up) was good without proper nutrition to ensure good skin underneath. That did not make Abah insensitive to our teenage vanities because he always ensured there was a bottle of hazeline snow for me together with mum’s scented hair oil and fragrant ‘florida water” in the monthly grocery supply. Going fourteen was a clumsy growing period for me and when Abah suspected that I was dieting, he told me that I need not worry about eating if I exercised enough, a tenet I subscribe to up to this day.
If there is one thing that I regret not keeping as part of Abah’s memorabilia, it is a light grey metal rectangular box about 1 ½ ft square by 4 feet that we called “tin nambong” that was the food container that Abah brought on his field trips. I used to watch him fill it up with cans of sardine, ikan bilis, salted fish, etc. I still wonder sometimes if he actually put some aside for us before he packed for himself. I used to check it out when Abah unpacked his stuff after a field trip and the musty smell from the empty tin nambong still lingers in my nostrils.
Abah retired from government service in 1973 as a Geological Surveyor Senior Assistant. He was not considered for promotions to a more senior level due to some “disciplinary” record during his earlier years when he was twice reprimanded for arguing with his British superiors over academic matters and staff welfare. Abah was a straight-talking person and when he stood his ground over a principle he upheld, he could become quite aggressive. Abah respected people, not ranks and when he found his boss to be inadequate in his subject knowledge, arrogant and inconsiderate towards workers especially labourers, he made no reservations to speak his mind which offended his superior. He used to tell me that the expats were discards from the British stock, that the government sent only graduates with general degrees to serve in Malaysia.
Nevertheless, Abah had high regard for the British system in general and this encompassed the language, style of dressing and all things ‘made in England’. Anything manufactured in Malaysia or China he considered to be of inferior quality or ‘common’. Although we were usually on a low budget for everything, Abah somehow managed to steer us to a taste for ‘Clarks’ shoes, western branded clothes and mum always had only real butter for her hari raya cookies.
Abah’s reserved nature and quick temper made him appear cold generally, but those close to him know his warmth and compassionate nature. He was particularly protective of women and children. He was close to his mother and took special care of his less priviledged sisters. Once a 5-year old girl unknown to us was murdered in our neighbourhood. Abah was deeply affected and visited the murder spot to say his prayers. When mum was in hospital to deliver the youngest child, Abah washed clothes and got me to help him in the kitchen. I used to be fascinated with the stuff he brought home when mum was in confinement to ‘ warm her blood’ which included brand’s essence of chicken and brandy (taken by the spoonful only). Abah would make ‘air jampi’ for anyone in distress in the family, from childbirth to examinations and it always worked wonders
Upon retirement Abah bought a house for the first time, a corner lot single storey house in Johore Bahru. I helped him plant rows of red and yellow roses, hibiscus and the ivy tree. He continued to support the family on his pension though part of his responsibilities were then relieved by the elder siblings who had started to work. Minor ailments of old age perhaps made him become more forgetful and grumpy, but he nevertheless settled into retirement years gracefully. He had a cycling companion to go to the surau with, was prompt at each prayer time, did the daily marketing, read the papers, watched wrestling on TV with mum, played with his grandchildren, took them to Quran classes on the bicycle and walked them to the grocer’s for ice cream and snacks everyday. Conscious of the evil of lifestyle diseases, he kept to light meals with minimal sugar, oil and santan. He was treated for stomach ulcer once and his health improved remarkably..
I was happy to see that he stopped complaining about his ‘athlete’s foot’ that was so hard to cure during his field trip days. Abah’s eyesight and hearing deteriorated as he went into his 80s. He had to have his cataract removed and wore special glasses but refused to wear hearing aids. We had to take away his bicycle after he was reported to have been nearly knocked down by the bus. Perhaps with that we also took away any lingering vestige of youthful vitality left in him as his health deteriorated quite rapidly after this.
Though his lungs were blackened from prolonged smoking that also caused him to wheeze constantly in later years, doctors declared that for an 86-year old his general health and spirits were in excellent condition. He enjoyed his curut (cigar) up to his last years. Three months before he died, mum took away his curut box after the doctor warned of bronchitis. I used to oblige him with 2 or 3 cigarettes behind mum’s back.
On a fine day in his 87th year, Abah asked me to take him to a doctor to check on his weakening knees. As usual, he dressed quite immaculately, used brycream and combed his hair. The doctor told it was a natural degeneration of health, but since Abah insisted on strengthening his knees, he was brought to the physiotherapist for knee exercises. He was happy to accomplish a set of 3 knee raises and promised to return. Alas, the exercise must have been just the breaking point as he complained of exhaustion later that day and became increasingly disoriented, though he continued to have the long baths he loved 5 times a day, before each prayer. During the next 3 days, he had no more sense of coordination to light a cigarette but would wake me up in the night to ask for his matches which he would just clutch to sleep.
On that fateful day in 1989, just before I left for work after taking 3 days leave to tend to him, I lined up 5 of his grandchildren who were then causing quite a furore in the house with their antics, to salam and kiss his hand. I still remember his smile, hardly recognizing each child. I was last in the queue and that was the last time I saw him alive. I was told later that just about an hour before he collapsed in the bathroom, he asked if I was coming home that night. He was destined to draw his last breath and surrender to the Almighty on his beloved wife’s lap and in the close presence of his eldest daughter.
Abah taught us about the joys of simplicity while seeking quality of life. He showed us, up to the last 3 days of his life, what it means to strive for what we want and to enjoy what we have. His spirituality was expressed in a simple advice he gave me from time to time]about gratitude, sharing and sincerity in everything we do. A preacher with few words, ‘godliness’ was a term he included in his occasional brief letters to me when I was studying overseas.
Up to this day, Abah still provides food and a roof above our heads as the family home was initially acquired from his retirement funds and mum spends his monthly pension money that is endowed to her, on food. It is a nominal sum that, spent with gratitude and the spirit of sharing, has not only supported her well for 18 years now but also produces bountiful spreads that are sufficient to feed us, our children and grandchildren whenever we visit.
Most of all, Abah showed me the distance, depths and heights a man is capable of reaching to when his love is unconditional. How do we reciprocate that love eternally? Abah visits me in my dream sometimes when I am troubled…perhaps he still worries about his children
As I watched them lower Abah in his grave, I felt a profound sense of peace for a man who was leaving only contentment behind and no burden for anyone. I believed that when it would be my turn to leave this world, I need not feel so scared knowing that Abah would be waiting for me. I still do.
May Abah’s soul rest in peace. Amen.
14th February.2007
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