A letter to Umar

Dear Umar, 

When school resumed several months back in mid-January, you had entered Year Six, the final year of your primary education. I consider myself fortunate to still be alive on the verge of becoming an octogenarian and to be able to see your advancement thus far. I vaguely remember you being barely a day old, a tiny infant in a bassinet, wide-eyed and alert, staring at everything around you. I am happy that you have now grown to be a dedicated and promising student. 

As time went by, many recollections of your early years diminished in my memory, as did your ever-changing looks over the years. It turned out that sometime at the end of January your mother shared an old photo of you and her in a WhatsApp status update. 

Barely 23 months old

The picture has evoked a strong sense of nostalgia within me. It depicted a tender scene of maternal love. Your mother smiled blissfully, and you, barely 23 months old, exuded a cheerful and amiable demeanour that would come to shape your distinctive personality over the years. At the time the photo was taken, your little sister, Noraina, was about four months old. Both of you are special gifts to your parents and to all of us. 

I have been following your schooling since you entered kindergarten with your sister. Over the course of time, I have been very glad to learn that both you and your sister have developed a love for learning. Both of you excel in the subjects that you learn in class and participate meaningfully in extracurricular activities. I noticed that your sister is as determined as you are and has tried to emulate you since she was small. 

I recognise that you both have shared a close bond since childhood—one that was enriched through play and shared learning. Nonetheless, it was not entirely trouble-free—playful exchanges, squabbles, and at times a bit of rough and tumble persist even now. You delight in teasing your little sister, and at times it brings her to tears, which tends to irritate your parents. I consider the mischievous antics an unusual way of showing affection for one another.   

Unlike home, where spats and mischief still prevail, the school offers a unique environment for both you and your sister, adapting well to its formality and the academic and ethical milieu. School is a second home for both of you, never missing it except when you are unwell. Both impress your teachers with the exemplary conduct you display while at school. You were chosen to serve as a school prefect starting in year 3, and Noraina followed in your footsteps when she reached the same grade. 

A few days after school reopened in January, your mother informed me over the phone that you were unanimously elected as the president of the taekwondo club. Later, I was told that you were elected vice president of the scout team. I am happy for you and appreciate your enthusiasm. 

Since third grade, you have shown a keen interest in extracurricular activities, whether literary, sports, or uniformed units—participating in various literary competitions at the school and interschool levels, including storytelling, oratory, and debate; representing your school in interschool softball matches; and being actively involved in the school scout team. Furthermore, you have also participated in academic and general knowledge quizzes organised by various NGOs. And, as expected, Noraina has followed your example since she started third grade.

Later, in early February, I got news that you were one of the few students shortlisted for an interview for the head boy position at your school. I was very delighted to hear the news, but I had the uneasy feeling that you might not be sufficiently eloquent to leave a favourable impression on the interview panel. To be honest, at the time, I wasn’t sure if you would succeed in the interview, which was on February 4. To my knowledge, you are not particularly chatty at home, except for the playful exchanges with your sister. For this reason, I suspect that you might face difficulties in proving your credibility to the interview panel.

Then, in the afternoon of February 5, your mother called me. I could feel she was overwhelmed with joy and excitement, speaking in a quavering voice, “Alhamdulillah, your grandson is the head boy, Dad.” She went on to share that time and again you had confided in her your desire to follow in the footsteps of your senior, Dzakirin Darwisy, Chief Library Prefect, who was named Student of the Year for 2024. She confessed that she was deeply anxious before the good news was known, fearing that you would be disappointed if you failed to meet your high expectations. 

I was quite impressed by the way you responded to the questions in the interview that you shared with your mother, who told me all about it. I am delighted that your sincerity has helped you find your way in school life. Your answers to specific questions during the interview indicated that you have found true friends. When asked about your idol, you straightforwardly mentioned Dzakirin Darwisy, a distinguished student whom you have sought to emulate. You were also asked about who else is eligible to be head boy among the other candidates; you mentioned your closest friend, 'Affan Jazari, whose ambition is to become an ustaz. 

I am convinced that you hold the correct viewpoint. Regarding the demerit system implemented for prefects, you observed that it is both beneficial and essential for cultivating a group of competent prefects. Furthermore, you conveyed the view that the demerit system ought to be implemented for all students, thus encouraging them to engage more actively in their learning. 

When asked if the prefects are performing their duties correctly, your comments are critical. You mentioned that, on the whole, prefects are fulfilling their responsibilities effectively and showing respect towards the teachers; nevertheless, there are some who do not take their duties seriously. 

I am of the opinion that you had exhibited assertiveness during the interview. Regarding the advantages you possess, you consider yourself intelligent, hardworking and charismatic. When enquired about your academic performance from the previous year, you stated that you had achieved excellence in all subjects. You expressed that your potential role as head boy would be to encourage students to follow disciplinary rules, which include respecting teachers, greeting them politely, being punctual, and completing schoolwork on time. Furthermore, you wish for fellow students to honour the school motto: ‘Knowledgeable, Charismatic.’ 

You introduced your family members by stating the names and occupations of your parents, and not forgetting to mention your sister, who studies at the same school. Regarding hobbies, you said that reading is your preference. As for your ambitions, you stated that you might pursue a career as a historian or an engineer—your favourite subjects being history and mathematics. 

I should have had a better understanding of your character as it appeared in the school environment. I ought not to have dismissed your commendable conduct and the stories shared about you during school—as sometimes mentioned by your mother—as mere hearsay. It is said that you exhibit good behaviour in class, show respect to your teachers, maintain friendly relations with your peers, and demonstrate empathy towards younger students. On top of that, teachers generally acknowledge you as a hardworking student whose schoolwork is top-notch, and above all, you excel in every subject. Once, your mother informed me that a group of teachers surprised you with birthday wishes in the staff room. 

I need not illustrate any further. Admittedly, I have failed to appreciate your resolve to be the best after your idol, Dzakirin Darwisy. The highlight of your selection as head boy occurred on February 9—your mother sent me a photograph of you leading the school prefects’ pledge on that day. We are happy for you that you are learning to discover your personal purpose in school life. We recognise that you are beginning to understand what matters most to you in a school environment. You have decided on a course that seems appropriate for you. We are certain that the time you spend in school will equip you to successfully face real-world challenges later in life.

A letter to Aina

Aina

Dear Aina,

We were glad that you were a star pupil at the prize day of your kindergarten early last December.
You won the champion prizes for English and Bahasa Malaysia (Malay) writing competitions as well as for colouring competition. And you also won a prize for talented pupil of the six-year group.

All had not come easy for you were it not for your determined and untiring effort in becoming the best in your class.

But apart from all that, we were most delighted when your mother shared with us a photo of an array of colourful envelopes that you’ve prepared yourself. We were told they contained farewell gifts for your teachers.

Very impressive, Aina! How thoughtful of you to remember that your teachers have done a lot for you.

Giving them farewell gifts is a great way of showing your appreciation for them for the fun and joy of learning that they’ve shared with you.

But we also hope you aren’t forgetting the one teacher who’s very dear and near to you.
Congratulations, Aina! Well done. You’ve done us proud. Keep up the good work.

 

Love,
Grandpa & grandma

  

In memoriam

Church Street (now Lebuh Gereja}, Penang

1. It was 14 February yesterday. My father was born on that date 140 years ago at Church Street in George Town, Penang. He died at the age of 74—away from his hometown—in Alor Merah a suburb about two miles (3.2 kilometres) from Alor Star, the capital town of Kedah state.

2. The event that led to his decision to move on to greener pastures in mainland Kedah is still a mystery to me just as his private life that I know very little about. According to reports he was a teacher at heart; beginning his working life as a teacher at his alma mater, the Penang Free School.

3. Then he came over to Kedah in 1911 to become the headmaster of a newly founded Government English School in Alor Star, but his tenure was short-lived and thenceforth he never again worked as a school teacher.

4. Ironically, he retired as a civil servant in 1937 after serving in various departments—his significant achievement being his contribution during his time at the legal adviser office. English being his strong suit, he was entrusted with a herculean task of translating hundreds of enactments from English into Malay.

5. But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise on account of the fact that after five years of retirement he was recalled to duty by the state government and appointed as legal adviser. With regard to that, a writer in his obituary to my father wrote that he was the first Malay legal adviser in the country.

6. I might say that I can’t hold a candle to him for his intellectual capability and notable achievements. My siblings and I were caught on a downward turn in aptitude and enthusiasm and we didn’t fare as well in education and working life.

7. And I suppose most of my father’s grandchildren also lack the intellectual aptitude of their grandfather. However, I am optimistic about the future of my father’s great-grandchildren who show enthusiasm and love of learning in schools.

A mystifying end

1. I was born during the last nine years of his life when he was in his mid-60s. How I wish I could write a vivid account of my childhood memories of him, but unfortunately I have a very poor memory. Those childhood memories fade with time; what remain are patches of blurred episodes in my mind.

2. I knew nothing of the story behind his marriage to my mother—so very late in his life. She was probably about 46 years his junior. I suppose they made strange bedfellows on account of the fact that he was a man of the world, educated and of wide experience whereas she was a very shy, naive, illiterate village girl who mostly kept to herself.

3. That said, I tried to console myself by reflecting on a common Malay axiom which goes, ‘Jodoh terletak di tangan Tuhan,’ which literally means ‘one’s partner is predestined by God.’ This saying is especially uttered in the face of ‘unexpected’ marriage.

4. My father remarried after his first wife passed away and before long the same fate befell his second wife, a widow, who had a son who became attached to him. He had no children of his own from his first two marriages. Probably, he must have been greatly elated to have been blessed with three children after marrying my mother—prompting him to publicise our respective births in a local newspaper.

A childhood photo of me with my father's portrait 

in the background

5. I believe the boost had also led to occasional trips to George Town apparently to bring us close to his side of the family. The trips—so very faint in my mind—took place before my schooldays, after which there was no more trips to his home town which he left in order to come over to Alor Star where he made a name for himself as a distinguished civil servant.

6. I grew up in a big wooden house along a main road about three miles from town. Until now I have no knowledge of the history of the house. It seemed that my father was contented with life living in the big house amid the family members of his stepson. There is a faint episode that still sticks in my mind where he tutored a young member of the royal family in that very house.  

7. As far as I recall he was still active before I entered primary school towards the mid-50s. He was working at the time but I didn’t have the slightest idea of what he was doing then. Deep in my mind there hung a blurred episode of climbing a flight of wooden staircase in a shop, following him up to a crowded office upstairs.

8. I didn’t spend my entire childhood with my parents; I stayed with my grandmother as well. Being fond of me, she used to take me regularly to stay at her place which was within walking distance of my parents’ abode.

9. There were things going on in the last three years of his life that I wasn’t very clear about. I supposed he was disappointed when I wasn’t accepted to enrol at a premiere school where he was one of the pioneer headmasters. He was grumbling when he took me on my first day of school to enrol at a missionary school instead. 

10. I guess it was during my third year in primary school that the village carpenter and his son started to build a wooden house extending from the front of my grandmother’s house. By and by I learned that it was my mother’s house they were building and we were supposed to move there upon its completion.

11. I wasn’t fully aware that my father’s health was gradually deteriorating at that time. My mother was always nagging him to move out of the big house but he refused. I had a feeling that relations with the family members of his stepson had soured. It ultimately led to a heated argument that took place one night. I have but a very faint memory of the incident that led to our departure from the big house. We all moved out—along with my ailing father—to my grandmother’s place.

12. My father was bedridden as his illness worsened and before long he breathed his last at his in-law’s. His remains was then placed at the newly built house and eventually buried at the local cemetery.

13. So much for my childhood memories of my father. It was not until 2013 that I began my research on my father. Only since have I learned facts and figures about his career and life in general. The information that I’ve garnered formed the basis of my reflections that follows.

14. I was nine at the time of his passing. His death was a bitter disappointment to my mother. As I grew older she told me there were only a few pitiful ringgits in his bank account. He left us neither a fortune nor a legacy.

15. That said, it was a curious ending. He was a grandson of a well-known merchant in George Town at the turn of the 19th century and his father was also an established merchant in his own right. My father joined the Kedah Civil Service in 1911 and retired on a good pension from the state government in 1937. He drew 222 ringgits and 86 sens monthly—quite a substantial amount at the time. After his retirement from the civil service, he apparently took up private practice.

16. Later during the war my father was called back by the state government and served as legal adviser and public prosecutor until British re-occupation and the BMA. After his retirement for the second time, he was appointed unofficial member of Executive Council and Council of State until 1954.

17. Ergo, it’s inconceivable that my father—a worldly-wise man of wide experience—would leave his wife and children with practically nothing to live on when he was gone. It seemed unlikely that he hadn’t given our welfare some thought. There remains a big question mark over what had actually gone wrong.

18. Of course rumours surfaced about his supposed bequest that was embezzled and that we were supposedly victims of misappropriation. That said, speculating about the rumours would be pointless. Nonetheless, the ending of my father’s life is arguably shrouded in mystery. It would remain obscure indefinitely.

  

The love of learning

 1. Umar and Nuraina are very hardworking and diligent. For them school is like a second home. They would never miss school—not for anything. Umar was absent for only one day on account of running a high fever and so Nuraina had to take the day off too. Nuraina had a fever for two consecutive days and her mother told her to skip school against her will, but Umar insisted on going to school.

2. On the third day Nuraina had not fully recovered but she woke up very early for school. Her mother thought that it wasn’t a good idea but Nuraina had made up her mind and that’s that. It was a Friday and she told her mother she would miss the spelling quiz if she were to skip school.

3. Both Umar and Nuraina fared quite well in their lessons. Except for a few careless mistakes, Umar did well in his Malay and English spelling quizzes. He caught up very fast in reading and counting despite the fact that it was his first time in kindergarten. Nuraina made only one mistake in all of her spelling quizzes. She joined the kindergarten with her brother, following his liking for books, writing, drawing and numbers. Thus she gradually acquired those skills as well.

4. My daughter used to share with me pictures and occasionally videos of the siblings that she took before sending them off to school or when they’d reached the premise. They were pictures of happiness and enthusiasm. Their mother gave them guidance and encouragement with their schoolwork at home. So they never left their homework undone.

Pictures of happiness

5. When the spread of COVID-19 began to seriously affect the life of the public at large school was disrupted at times due to the lockdown or MCO sometimes for weeks. When they had to stay away from school for too long they’d complain to their mother that they missed school so much.

6. But they were not made idle albeit staying at home for they were expected to do exercises in their workbooks regularly. The workbooks were then returned to teachers for marking and the routine went on. During the recent CMCO imposed on the state, the siblings followed their lessons conducted by teachers on Facebook. They never missed their lessons and did all their homework after every lesson.

7. My daughter and son-in-law took heart because the school did not call off the year-end celebration albeit without parents’ participation. Both Umar and Nuraina received prizes for their ceaseless effort in their schoolwork and quizzes.

8. They won trophies at the year-end celebration. Umar won a trophy for fast learner, a champion trophy for English quiz and the first runner up trophy for Malay quiz. As expected, Nuraina won the best speller trophy as well as trophies for consolation prizes in English and Malay quizzes.

9. We were very happy for them. They deserved the sweet smell of success for their determination and hard work. I suppose they’ve put their best foot forward and by and by they’d cherish the love of learning.