Happy Teachers Day!

I was a teacher once. I do not know whether any of my students remember me. It does not matter. I have done what I was supposed to do and that’s that.

I remember most of my “cikgu”.

I was short of the school-going age when I was in Merang but my father put me in school anyway. Most probably to get me out of my mother’s hair. I do not remember any of my teachers name in Sekolah Melayu Merang. What I remember is one of mother’s cousins, Pok Kob, who was in the upper classes, feeding me with cuklat nissang every now and then. I remember too going with him through the field looking for a kind of grass to wipe the papan slate. I guess the teachers left me alone. That was the reason I could not remember their names. But I do remember the headmaster, Cikgu Weil. Cikgu Weil, a wiry dark-skinned man from Pahang was the local UMNO leader. Then (in 1949), nationalism was spread by, among other groups, teachers like Cikgu Weil. He went around shouting “Merdeka” at every opportunity. The kampung folks would respond with a hearty “Deka!” or “Deko!” depending on the dialect they were used to. I was not sure whether it was the nationalistic fervour or their dig at Cikgu Weil’s physical impediment. Cikgu Weil could not straighten his arm – an affliction known in Terengganu as “deko” (or “deka” if you are from Besut).

When we moved to Kuala Terengganu, I was enrolled in Sekolah Melayu Paya Bunga and we had a few unforgettable cikgus. One was Cikgu Lebo, a short rotund man who never seem to smile. Cikgu Lebo went around the school ground during recess to debok (thump) the back of pupils drawing on the sand.

When I moved to Sultan Sulaiman Primary school after getting through the Special Malay Class examination, our favourite teacher was Mr. Lau Kuan Jin who drilled us in English with a litany of “ A man in a pan” or was it the other way around? Actually it was “A man and a pan”. I am getting old.

When we moved to Kota Bharu, I remember Mr. Henry in SIC. He took us on expeditions to a waterfall in Pasir Putih. Later when I moved next door to the secondary school, we had Ustaz Abdullah Nakula who always tweaked our brain with trick questions. We also had a Mr. Menon who was overcome with passion on reading a passage from Shakespeare.

In Sultan Sulaiman Secondary School, Kuala Terengganu I remember many teachers who undoubtedly played a part in my life. There was Cikgu Rahman who encouraged my infatuation with art and Mr. Gurunathan, our Scout Master. And then there were the ustazs , Ustaz Mahmood Salim and Ustaz Manan. They never failed to liven up the class while giving us the basics of Islamic Studies. Ustaz Manan was unfazed by our silly questions. An example:

Student: Apa hukum hisap kopek bini kita ustaz? (Whats the rule on sucking on your wife’s tit?)

Ustaz: Hukumnya sedaplah. (Feels good.)

There are many more teachers that I remember from those days. To them and to all the teachers past and present, Happy Teachers Day, Cikgu!

Labels: Teachers

Happy Teachers Day!

I was a teacher once. I do not know whether any of my students remember me. It does not matter. I have done what I was supposed to do and that’s that.

I remember most of my “cikgu”.

I was short of the school-going age when I was in Merang but my father put me in school anyway. Most probably to get me out of my mother’s hair. I do not remember any of my teachers name in Sekolah Melayu Merang. What I remember is one of mother’s cousins, Pok Kob, who was in the upper classes, feeding me with cuklat nissang every now and then. I remember too going with him through the field looking for a kind of grass to wipe the papan slate. I guess the teachers left me alone. That was the reason I could not remember their names. But I do remember the headmaster, Cikgu Weil. Cikgu Weil, a wiry dark-skinned man from Pahang was the local UMNO leader. Then (in 1949), nationalism was spread by, among other groups, teachers like Cikgu Weil. He went around shouting “Merdeka” at every opportunity. The kampung folks would respond with a hearty “Deka!” or “Deko!” depending on the dialect they were used to. I was not sure whether it was the nationalistic fervour or their dig at Cikgu Weil’s physical impediment. Cikgu Weil could not straighten his arm – an affliction known in Terengganu as “deko” (or “deka” if you are from Besut).

When we moved to Kuala Terengganu, I was enrolled in Sekolah Melayu Paya Bunga and we had a few unforgettable cikgus. One was Cikgu Lebo, a short rotund man who never seem to smile. Cikgu Lebo went around the school ground during recess to debok (thump) the back of pupils drawing on the sand.

When I moved to Sultan Sulaiman Primary school after getting through the Special Malay Class examination, our favourite teacher was Mr. Lau Kuan Jin who drilled us in English with a litany of “ A man in a pan” or was it the other way around? Actually it was “A man and a pan”. I am getting old.

When we moved to Kota Bharu, I remember Mr. Henry in SIC. He took us on expeditions to a waterfall in Pasir Putih. Later when I moved next door to the secondary school, we had Ustaz Abdullah Nakula who always tweaked our brain with trick questions. We also had a Mr. Menon who was overcome with passion on reading a passage from Shakespeare.

In Sultan Sulaiman Secondary School, Kuala Terengganu I remember many teachers who undoubtedly played a part in my life. There was Cikgu Rahman who encouraged my infatuation with art and Mr. Gurunathan, our Scout Master. And then there were the ustazs , Ustaz Mahmood Salim and Ustaz Manan. They never failed to liven up the class while giving us the basics of Islamic Studies. Ustaz Manan was unfazed by our silly questions. An example:

Student: Apa hukum hisap kopek bini kita ustaz? (Whats the rule on sucking on your wife’s tit?)

Ustaz: Hukumnya sedaplah. (Feels good.)

There are many more teachers that I remember from those days. To them and to all the teachers past and present, Happy Teachers Day, Cikgu!

Labels: Teachers

LABORIOUS SUNDAY

Whew! What a Sunday!
Early in the morning I was woken up from my second session of sleep by the phone. It was Pak Daud who said he was downstairs with Ani, his wife. After accepting with heartfelt thanks the sambal belacan that Ani pounded in her kitchen back in Tanjong, Kuala Terengganu and the inevitable kerepok, we let our guests head for hot showers.
We had to forgo nasi dagang for breakfast (they served nasi dagang at Tappers, Bangsar South) but opted instead for Western fare at Plan B, Bangsar Village. We had to attend a birthday party for my cucus and presents had to be bought while the Terengganu couple finished their eggs and lemon tea.
My daughter Dalia is usually a very good communicator but since leaving the tv station, she is a bit harried. So she forgot to tell me where the party was. I assumed that since previous birthdays were celebrated in their house, this year would be no different. So Pak Daud, Ani and I made our way to Kelana Jaya. We made a stop a few houses away from Dalia's house because Pak Daud wanted to drop off some kerepok for Hj.Shariff, a fellow cycling official.
When we arrived at Dalia's house, there was no sign of any festivities. There weren't any sign of anybody. A phone call cleared the misunderstanding. The party is at The Club, Bandar Utama.
At this time, Plan B's breakfast started to trouble Pak Daud's generally robust tummy. He needed a toilet for the big one. Is there a jambang ija equivalent around? None. Dalia's house was locked. Elisa's house nearby seemed to be locked too. Luckily the mosque was not locked.
Relieved, we set for the club. After the tunnel, I missed the turning and had to make a fool of myself by going into the road people use to exit, not to enter. I was told to look out for the Club signs.
I looked. Pak Daud looked and read out each sign. We ended up at the foot of the hill. No club in sight. We did see a police station. After another two attempts we finally got the club.
I promptly got shot by Akif with his newly acquired water gun.
We left at 2pm and had to get home first because Daud forgot his copy of A Map of Terengganu he bought in Kuala Terengganu earlier.
We made only one wrong turn going to Solaris but when we got to Block A. We found the door locked. We managed to find the proper entrance and found RA Gallery already packed with fans and guests. I managed to squeeze Daud to the front. He found a chair on his own though.
Alhamdullillah were not too late to catch the Syair Awang Goneng followed by Awang Goneng's raconteur of his school days and journalistic experience.
I was glad I came. I met the host Raja Ahmad, a very pleasant gentleman. I met Dina Zaman again. She was perky as always and a joy to listen to. I met Cat In Sydney, a faithful follower of my blog. She is not at all catty. When I was sneaking a cigarette, Blabs caught me. Havent seen her since she came back from Dubai. I also talked to bubbly Dato' Manja and wife for the first time. Although Puteri Kamaliah wanted to talk to me more because I left MPH early yesterday she did not get her wish. Too many people.
I did not want to rush for the food, preferring to wait. I didn't get to taste jala mas but managed to get the fabulous sekaya. Thank you Wan Asma. I left the remaining ropa to Adnan. He has stronger teeth. I have only gums.
My flash gun fell down and I did not take many pictures. See whatever I have here.