Prime Minister, Teacher or Cabbie?

When my class teacher asked me in 1970 ( I was in Standard Five then) about what I wanted to be when I grow up, I list down Prime Minister, Teacher and Cab Driver - in that order - on the blue card. I thought Prime Minister is a "jawatan yang bagus" and glamorous as people crowd around him whenever he goes. The second profession was in the list perhaps due to the presence of teachers around me at that time. My teachers were all good, kind and excellent persons around my small village in the 1960's and 1970's before electricity and television came in 1978. But the Cab Driver? My father was the first person in my small village then to obtain a driving license from the RIMV - Registrar and Inspector of Motor Vehicles, the precursor to the present JPJ - and he, despite his meagre income, bought a car for a few years. The car, a Ford Prefect was used as a taxi albeit unlicensed one. I used to accompany him in his daily work of transporting people to and back from Kuala Terengganu town. Sometimes some people charter us to Kota Bharu, Kelantan.

By the way, I do not join politics when I grow up and therefore Prime Ministership is out of question. Despite being on the road quite frequently with my unlicensed cab driver father I cannot drive a car until in my late 20s. The Teacher? well I almost become one. After the SPM (O'level equivalent), I went to Form Six. The pressure of not having money - a. k. a. being poor - led me to look for work instead of furthering my study. The opportunity came in early 1979 when there was an advertisement for trainee teachers in local newspapers. I naturally applied - the advertised starting salary was RM585.00 per month, quite a handsome amount at that time.

After the HSC results came out in early 1980, I got a place at the Sultan Abdul Halim Teachers College (MPSAH) in Sungai Petani, Kedah. I went there and started the training until one day my father called the College office telling - my father's words are all instructions you know - me to report for admission into Universiti Malaya urgently. Apparently, the University sent a telegram to my home address requesting me to urgently report for admission. In those days, whenever one receives a telegram the message is treated as something that requires urgent and serious response.

I have signed the agreement to become a teacher and to run away prematurely may cause severe financial implications that is beyond my ability to sort out. Nonetheless, it was unthinkable for me to go against my father's words (read: instruction).

One night, about three days after my father's telephone call, a friend accompanied me through a small opening in the College's perimeter fence and then made our way to the Sungai Petani bus station for a journey to Kuala Lumpur. With big bags and what nots it was scary at times lest my running away was discovered.

Had I got cold feet at that time, I would have been a teacher within two years after that. whatever it is, in the end, not a single option in the blue card materialises. I wonder what my class teacher would say if he is still alive today. Prime Minister, Teacher or Cabbie? Tick none!

"Dad Has Gone To The Airport!"

How would one feel if a high flyer suddenly crash-lands? I was a high-flyer once...due to my hard work. My boss frequently mentions my name to other staff whenever he feels I deserve such compliments. No, I have no intention of bragging about my successes in this posting. Instead it is about my burst ego from an embarrassing mistake.

My boss, the CEO of a statutory body plans to participate in a conference in Malta! As usual I was asked to plan for his journey and execute it. He really wants to go to Malta. In those days, flights are booked through travel agents. The agent recommends the best itinerary, first through the (fixed-line) telephone, then the facs.

I was extremely happy when the travel agent confirmed the flight schedules. it was supposed to depart the international airport at 0620 on such and such date. I heard it 'clearly' over the telephone. I duly told the boss. He said OK! when the facs came, the flight was 'written' as departing at 0620.

All the booking documentation went smoothly. In short the flight was properly booked, fully paid and I started to make the necessary preparation. I had to prepare the written guide to my boss for his travel including the information on currency, weather, temperature, places of interests, the nearest Malaysian embbasy or hig commission etc.

The evening before the flight departure, I collected the boss' baggage, flight tickets - yes tickets - and passports from his house and put them in the boot of my car. I woke up at 3.30 am on the morning of the scheduled flight, take a shower, dress myself and by 4.00 am I was on the way to the Airport. I reached the Airport at 4.45 am. Strangely there was no crowd there. All the counters were closed. I told a passing worker there that I wanted to check-in my boss for the flight to Malta.

About five minutes came a staff from the airline and he took the flight tickets for check-in.

"Encik, flight ni dah lepas!"

"Dah lepas? Ni baru pukul 5 pagi!"

"This flight left just after midnight. The departure time was 0020 not 0620 as Encik has just said! "

I stared at the ticket in great disbelief! How come 0620 becomes 0020?

I hurried to the nearest public telephone and dial my boss' home. After like an eternity, a young boy's voice groggily answered.

"Can I can speak to Dato'......?"

"I'm sorry, Dad's gone to the Airport!"

I put down the phone and as I turned around there walked in my boss and his wife! I felt like the whole world has collapsed on me then!

I was embarrassed, disappointed, dejected and my high-flying career crash-landed! Have you ever been in that situation in your life?

Tribute to a Model Father

Father's Day was celebrated last week by most people. Glowing tributes were written by grateful children whose life were shaped by their respective fathers. I too cannot afford to ignore my own father's positive deeds that greatly help shape my comfortable life. I am the only one among my siblings who underwent strict upbringing by my father during my younger days. He insisted that I study every night, be punctual in every activity, 'forced' me to rear a cow - this help shape my skills in managing resources - when I was in standard six etc. He visited me at the hostel in town in my secondary years once-a-month. I can still 'see' now his heavily-perspired face at the hostel gate enquiring about my welfare and at the end of the visit he gave me a ringgit - yes a ringgit! - for my whatever I need. He then cycled back home for about 25km away from my hostel. He cycled for 50km just to see me at the hostel. Nowadays I went to my sons' hostels in my 2.5 MPV!

My father changed jobs a number of times. His last 'position' was that of a general helper at a used car outlet owned by an Ipoh-born Chinese boss. His last drawn salary was about RM700.00 per month. With that three-figure salary he saw me through university, bought me a motorcycle, feed us, paid for my brother's driving license etc.

My father passed away three years ago. He left about RM78,000.00 in his Tabung Haji account and four pieces of lands when he died. It is a small amount for others but having seen my father struggling from his younger days until late in life, I was surprised to see that amount that he left for us. What this means is just that my father keeps 'giving' me money even when he is no longer around. A small piece of rubber land gives me about RM100.00 nett per month, courtesy of my late father.

In life and in death, my father provides for me....! There's no way I could re-pay the services of my father other than praying for his well-being in the hereafter! Happy Father's Day...I wish all children appreciate their respective father's deeds and love!

Cap Ayam

In one of my recent postings, I talked about the word skodeng, which comes about from the word scout den. There is another word or rather a phrase or a term that originated from my alma mater i. e. cap ayam!

Cap ayam means something too ordinary (koman, from the word common!) bordering on mediocrity. If someone says you are cap ayam he means you are mediocre, incapable of performing up to a certain standard. But why ayam? Everybody takes chicken nowadays, and very few young people take fish. There is nothing fishy here. On the contrary, cap ayam that leads to this phrase was - and I believe still is - a brand of sardine or canned mackerel. It was the better canned mackerel during my schooldays than a few others.

During my schooldays in my teens, sardin cap ayam were served to hostellites who didn't take chicken or other cooked fish. Usually a table was reserved for this susbstitute menu for those picky eaters. The members of the table changes according to the main menu served each day.

In later years, friends joke that one is considered (members or consumers) of cap ayam if he is different from the mainstream and too ordinary in life - and later on in work and any other sphere of life! Recently the term "cap ayam" appeared in a Malay daily hinting at similar non-performance of the Nation's sports team!

Cap Ayam, a good brand but leads to a not-to-be-proud-of meaning!

Skodeng?

Do you know the origin of the word in the title of today's posting? Skodeng means "the act of peeping (toms)". If you look up the Kamus Dewan a few years back you did not find the word in it. I am not sure if it is in now.

Believe it or not the word orginates from my school, the Sultan Sulaiman Secondary School, Kuala Terengganu. The school was, and is situated between the Kuala Terengganu-Kuantan federal trunk road and the South China Sea shore. The Boys Hostel was at the back, literally next to shore. The Girls Hostel meanwhile was further to front near the said trunk road. Very few boys had a chance of going near the Girls Hostel for the simple reason that the classes are on the far side of the school area. The nearest classroom block, during my schooldays, to the Girls' Hostel was block C, a new block then. Then the word "near" was perhaps inaccurate. Nowhere any boy could get a glimpse of the girl hostellites in their hostel from Block C - the so-called nearest building to it - even during our nightly preps hours.

But then there was - I am not sure if it is still there nowadays - a small building between Block C and the Girls' Hostel but slightly closer to the Hostel. It was the 'Scout Den'. Scouts used the small building to carry out their activities during the day and once in a while they had campfire there.

A few naughty boys from the Hostel used that small block as the hiding place to watch the girls in their hostels at night. I was and am doubtful if they were able to catch a good glimpse of the girls unless they brought along binoculars. It was a common phrase among us boys at that time that to "go to (the) Scout Den' means to take a peep at the girls gostellites. If you know how the Terengganuans contrite the Standard Malay words, the "scout den" (pronounced: skaoqdeng) the word eventually becomes skodeng to mean "peeping (toms)". Horh, mung gi skaoqdeng (skodeng) ker tu?" [Ah hah you went peeping?].

I was surprised to read in national Malay newspaper some months back that the word skodeng has been accepted as a standard Malay word. Perhaps I should check the Kamus Dewan now!