Tembor

No, that's not an English word. It is not even a Standard Malay word. Skodeng was a Terengganu word but it becomes one due to its popular usage. Tembor means to break out from an area. It also means just running away. During our schooldays, tembor refers to an illegal act of leaving the class, school compound or hostel without permission. I was an extremely good boy during my schooldays. Never had any brush up with any rules or regulations. I was a very obedient hostellite too. Air Tenang Jangan Disangka Tiada Buaya - do not underestimate a calm water as harmless - and I did once sneak out of our hostel at night on the suggestion of my friends M and ZG. We were all good hostellites.

Our hostel was located near the seashore and the school fence did not last long. it got rusted and fell down not long after it was erected. We quietly treading near the perimeter fence and then when the coast was clear jumped out onto the concrete wave-breaker near the beach. We walked on the wave-breaker towards the Istana which was next to our school compound. It was not really dark as the moon was high in the sky.

After about five minutes we reached the Istana wall. M climbed up first followed by ZG. I was last and had the difficulty of going over the high wall. As soon as we were in fact into the Istana compound, M climbed up a coconut tree and brought down a few coconuts. ZG took out a knife that he brought along and de-husk them. We had coconut drink that night in the Istana compound even if it was only at the periphery. After finishing a few coconuts, we climbed out of the Istana compound and slowly walked back to our hostel. We quietly sneaked back into our respective dormitories and went to sleep. There was no ill-intention in doing that but the feeling of an accomplished 'conquest' gives us the satisfaction from tembor. We feel we taste success in the form of breaking out of our hostel unnoticed and breaking into the Istana compound also unnoticed. I am not sure what would have happened if we were caught doing that! Our faces would have appeared in the next day's newspapers and obviously the canes of our school and our fathers would land on our buttocks. Tembor hostel yes but I never tembor kelas during my schooldays! Did you?

Dating? 1970s-style

People fall in love everyday. Youngsters date; matured persons date too. Married people also do not like to be left out. Arranging a date is a breeze nowadays, what with the cellphones and social media. How did people in 1970s go for a date? It takes days to arrange for a date. It takes longer if the only available medium of communication is the postal service.

I didn't date during my schooldays. In fact I was a very shy 'boy'. My palms sweat whenever a girl - beautiful or otherwise - comes near. That doesn't mean I have no one asking for a date, mind you. And one can arrange a date and send a proxy instead when the time comes. There is no shortage of people willing to be a proxy for such an assignment.

Our English teacher, a Ms P***** one day asks each of us to write a letter to an unknown 'friend' in another school. She asks us to write to 'Dear Friend,...' and specifically instructed us to introduce ourselves to the yet-to-be-known friend. She collected the letters in the next English class and put them in a big envelop. The envelop was addressed to a class in SMAA, Kuantan, Pahang. My palms have yet to sweat at that time.

After ten days, Ms. P brings along a big envelop to the class, opens it and starts distributing the replies. I get a reply from a Ms. *** who mentions in her reply that she is from Pulau Duyung but lives in Kuantan and studying at SMAA. Ms P asks us to reply to our new-found friends. I duly did. More replies came.

To cut the long story short, Ms. *** asks me to wait for her at the Kuala Terengganu bus station on a certain day and time during the next school holiday as she plans to visit her grandma in Pulau Duyung. She describes in the letter her shape and size, hair-style and the colour and type of dress including the pants she would be wearing. She also provides a plan that says she would, after disembarking from the bus, walk to the nearest terminal column and wait for me there. The password was also given. It is very tough to meet in those days since we have no way of communicating while on our way.

My heart stops a moment. My palms start to sweat. Two classmates observe my apprehensiveness and ask what 's wrong. Again, to cut the long story short, both of them agree to be my proxy. MFA and ZH were very happy and look forward to the date so arranged. I provided them all the agreed details including the password.

When school reopens after the mid-year break, both MFA and ZH told me they were upset for not being able to meet up with the date. They waited the whole day at the bus station and till the last bus from Kuantan on that day. No one fitting the description provided in the letters disembark from the many buses from Kuantan. It was a letdown to both my proxies.

The girl err the friend I mean writes back later apologising profusely for having to abort the trip back to Kuala Terengganu due some unavoidable reasons. I stop corresponding with her soon after; not out of frustration over the missed date but due to my shyness. Furthermore, Ms. P no longer asks about the progress of our friendship. So there is no reason to proceed.

I pity my proxies but deep inside I consider at that time I was saved from some difficult situation. No Women No Cry, as the title of a Boney M song says. That's dating 1970s-style with proxies....

Leadership Quality from CowHerding

There was a furore recently about a national beef project, which was said to be not achieving its set target. The media was abuzz with allegations of misuse etc. Growing up in a traditional village in 1960s, cows were part of my life. Our family house was built on stilts and our cows were penned under the house. The 'aroma' of cow dung was surely unbearable to townsfolk but we didn't bat an eyelid over that.

When I was 12 (in standard six), my father 'instructed' me to take care of a cow. And my 6-year old brother its calf. My father's instruction was very simple. By 6 pm when the cows should be home i. e. under our house, their respective bellies should be full. If not my brother and i were in for some kind of punishment.

Every morning, come rain or shine, my brother and I wakes up at six and lead our cows to the grazing area about half-a-kilometer from our home. The area was in fact a large tract of land with thick secondary jungle. We have to lead our cows silently in the darkness of early morning to the grazing area and 'anchor' them there. The morning was too dark, there was not a single human around at that time except my brother and I and our two cows walking silently. We trudged the riverbank and after a short distance turned a bit upland where we should leave our cows to graze. My brother and I didn't make any conversation other than occasional words of enquiry about something durign our early morning trips there. Stories of tiger sightings and python crossing were always in our minds but we had no choice other than to carry out father's instruction. After school we went for the Qur'an reciting classes at the quranic teacher's home. After the quranic class we went to the river for our afternoon revelry. For me and my brother, a brief check on our cows' bellies determine the available time for our sojourn in the river. If the cows were almost full, my brother and I can spend longer time in the river. If not, we have to tend to the cows first by ensuring them have enough grasses before dusk.

Despite our preoccupation with playing my brother and I never get any punishment from father. We always ensure our cows were full by the time for them to be brought home. Cows being cows, sometimes they scooted off to neighbouring plots of planted area and savoured the vegetables. Facing the angry owners whose plants were devoured by our cows is not easy. And there is no recourse to our father as we would surely eb punished for such carelessness.

The task of herding the cows teaches us good things about life. Firstly, indirectly we were given a common mission: to tend to our cows and ensure their growth. Secondly, we learn how to be patient in adversaries and persevere in our tasks. Controlling our cows on our way home imbue in us the art of treading on critical grounds. The lessons gained from the task of raising our cows came in handy in my career later in my life.I am not sure if I should recommend cowherding as a training ground for kids nowadays but politicians should learn a thing or two about tending to cows in their career.