RRF to PPSP: Ep.6: Some memorable teachers

We had a good set of teachers. To prove a point to the rest of the world who were mocking at the third Malaysian medical school for straying from the traditional teaching, the powers that be decided to equip the school with lecturers of high stature and calibre. To train some of the local lecturers, overseas dropped-out government scholars medical students were designated as trainee lecturers were excellent in making easy subjects more difficult to comprehend -and I guess they got a kick out it. Since they bungled up in med school, deep-seated psychological envy logically would drive anyone in their shoes (mortarboard) to do the same.

Anyway, only a few of them remain in memory. The process of natural selection and natural body defence of engulfing distorted glial cells must have wiped off these painful, traumatic moments!

Bacteriophage T4

Let me perambulate some of the lecturers that still linger in the memory bank. I guess they must have a permanent imprint on the cerebral cortex that they cannot be erased.
In year one, learning anatomy with its plethora of Latin terms were Greek to us. Thanks to NBR, we managed to make sense of this mumbo-jumbo. Speaking with a thick Indian accent and maybe not so much of head gyrating movements, we would get lost in some of his words. Discouraging us to read the Anatomy by R.J. Last, he would say, "Don't read Last, you would be lost and get last in class!". The problem was that his 'last' and 'lost' sounded the same and the joke was lost in translation. An excellent teacher he was.

Among the panel of lecturers were world standard scientists and researches who were obviously somewhat overqualified to be hanging around PPSP teaching nimble minded fools like us. There was a guy who was doing sleep pattern research in NASA astronauts (L) and another in WHO setting up virology laboratories (M).

The professor in microbiology (OKH) looked like an opium-smoking thick moustachioed pencil-thin man who never failed to create laughs when he demonstrated the action the T4 bacteriophage infusing its DNA into its host by crouching and flexing his elbows! (see pic).

The Professor (Gilligan's Island)

Then one day walked a Rajnikanth-Vijayakanth look alike lecturer (DCA) who taught us the more delicate things of internal medicine! And a very hirsute physiology lecturer swaying all his hands like tentacles of a squid while trying to explain the sodium pump mechanism in squids (which he worked on in his PhD paper!). One particular biochemistry lecturer (KTS) only appeared to deliver his lectures to the front rows of students who by chance happened to be all girls, thus earning him the nickname of BBDOM (busybody dirty old man).

A short nerdy professor of Pathology (NF) with his crowning glory of thick straight white hair and a nerdy black thick plastic rimmed aphakic (after cataract surgery) glasses to match his pristine white lab-coat and intellect. Obviously overqualified to be hanging around PPSP, his brand of intellectual jokes spoken in full Ceylonese slanged sing-song English, just did not tickle the ribs of an average PPSPian! His classic joke was, 'Don't you know the sad story of a doctor? It is always a clean shirt but empty pockets!' Looks like I remember his jokes more than his teachings!
PKD was working in world standard labs the world over till he finally landed in PPSP. He fell in love with Penang and is still residing there after his retirement. In spite of his monotonous deep accented voice, he commanded a lot of respect as an excellent lecturer. I wonder why after being away from his native state of Bengal for so many years, he still pronounced iron as 'ai-ren' (as in I RUN), Japan as 'Jah-paan' and example as 'act-jump-pearl' as how a typical Bengali would do!

The pathology department was teaming with so many brainiacs in their own fields that many intra-departmental politics excited bored students like us.
DrB, a lecturer in Obstetrics and Gynaecology would introduce the subject to newbies with the opening statement like this 'Pregnancy is not a problem unless you are not married'. We soon realised that marriage is just a public declaration of a caveat much like the branding of cattle in the Wild West. Sex has nothing to do it. Sometimes love comes in the equation; Pregnancy, the punishment for the lackadaisical.

The express bus from Penang to KB

SKMK (Syarikat Kenderaan Melayu
Kelantan) - acronym fondly 
remembered as Sampai Kelantan
Mahu Kahwin by mates after
looking at awek Kelante!

(Kelantan girls)

SL, another lecturer in Ob-Gyn, related to us how he, a shy doctor early in his career, found that field to give him confidence in mixing with the fairer sex. In his own cheeky way, he said that it was the only profession where a lady would tell him all her intimate problems that she would never dream of telling another man and would allow him to look into restricted areas without raising an eyebrow but thank him instead and return for more!
A psychiatrist (SU) express his gripe that people in his profession do not get introduced or acknowledged in parties, unlike gynaecologists. He feels that somehow, ladies find joy in introducing their gynaes but not so comfortable even to look at the direction of their psychiatrists in public!

Then there was a youthful looking paediatrician (JA) who was quite vocal with his comments. Medical students, being Malaysians and kiasu, felt compelled to write in verbatim all words uttered by all lecturers. JA, irritated with this act of talking to scribbling journalists, would rattle off' "I am not telling something quite profound or divine, whatever I am telling is found in any standard textbook!"

Being an experimental curriculum in this side of the world with a motley crew of students with diverse academic achievements, many lecturers found their funny bone while lecturing. A lecturer in Paediatrics once quipped, "Why is USM offering MD (instead of MBBS) for its degree in medicine? Is it because you are mentally deficient?" And she went on a hyena-like hysterics interposed with a laboured asthmatic attack much to our amusement. I guess we had the last laugh at her peculiarly comical antics!

RRF to PPSP: Ep. 5: Some quirky mates and their actions!

Mutley (of Wacky Races)

At a time when South Africa was shying away from Apartheid, when the loud sounds of 'Gimme Hope Joanna' were heard in every Soweto* and streets of Johannesburg, Malaysia was embracing racism full scale after the 69 mayhem. What better (or worse) place to perceive this transformation than the local universities.

In my batch (just like the rest of the varsity), the non-Bumis stuck together for play and work. A handful of upper-class middle Malay students would join us every now and then. That's it- they were no 'bro'!

In essence, the Bumis and the nons interacted amongst themselves.

The non-Bumi guys in our batch used to refer to each other with the prefix 'homosapiens' followed by a suffix characteristic of their trait or character. There was a guy who spiced his conversation with unnecessary profanity, hence his title was homo sapien vulgaris; homo sapien negroides- coarse features and thick lips; homo sapien sinensis - Chinese educated student who hummed Mandarin love songs; homo sapien Brahminensis - a vegetarian Brahmin; homosapien caucasionoid - a student with Caucasian ancestry; etcetera.. My juniors (Indian guys) gave the surname 'Soon' to all of us, apparently referring to specific female anatomy in crude Tamil lingo! Ravi Soon, Raja Soon...

At a different time, we were all from the 'Nai' family - 'Nai' refers to a dog in Tamil (நாய்). The first name here too referred to their peculiar habits, e.g. Sori Nai (Scratching Dog) for the guy who was stingy with his daily showers; Karuppu Nai (Black dog) for his dark complexion; Pottei Nai (Bitch) for his effeminate tendencies and so on.

Felix, the cat

And some of the antics of some of the guys...
There was a guy amongst who thought that he was Amitabh Bachchan's lost twin brother. Donning his wall was a photo of him in a posture of him on a scrambler motorcycle similar to one done by Big B. Stories abound that he was born right-handed, he trained himself to eat and write his left. Well, he could pose off in one of the long lists of wannabes but would lose hands down to the maniacs in Bharat Desh!

And another John Travolta look-alike full with the cleft chin and all! He went around the world thinking that he was God's gift to the female gender. He enjoyed being in the company of girls, getting away with whatever derogatory remarks he made (because girls went all flaccid at the sight of him!) until he stepped the wrong toe and got a slipper thrown right smack on his face! He cooled down his activity after this turn of the event spread around varsity like bush fire.

I remember a time when there was Malay girl in class behind whom Tony Romano (Travolta in Saturday Night Fever) look alike used to sit, purposely! Everything was going on fine with the spreading his suave and she flirting shamelessly. The day came when she plunged into a relationship to a guy who joined the bandwagon of enlightened human beings who was preparing themselves for the afterlife rather live for the moment. Slowly, this girl's fashion sense became more conservative - the skirts became longer, and the sleeveless blouses became sleeved...
During this evolution, Travolta, like in the Red Riding Hood upon seeing the changed Grandma, commented, "Wow! You have nice legs." The next day, she was dressed in a sarong. Then, he went on, "Nice neck!" - swish came the mandarin collar; Next, "Nice hair!" - swish came the headgear (tudung); Next "Nice toes!" - swish came the socks. Before he could say, "Nice fingers" and started describing her lips and beyond, she intelligently (are you sure?), changed places and sat far from our macho Romeo!

To be continued.....

* Soweto [(suh-wet-oh, suh-way-toh)]
The collective name for township inhabited by black Africans, located southwest Johannesburg, South Africa.

RRF to PPSP: Ep. 5: The syllabi - CFCS

Another foundation upon which the concrete was poured during the establishment of PPSP is the concept of developing community-based physicians. It was fondly referred to by its acronym CFCS - much to the imagination of the young minds whenever the word 'F' comes around, with the help of the 'S' - go figure! This is beginning to sound like the TV series 'The Electric Company'. Now, I cannot even remember what CFCS stands for now (Community and Family Case Studies?).

In every phase of the medical studies (Phase1-Yr1, Phase2-Yrs2-3, Phase3-Yrs4-5), students were required to follow a patient whom they had seen in the hospital and write about them. It is primarily to highlight how the disease affects the family and to impress to young doctors that a patient is not just a disease bearer, but instead he also carries a myriad of baggage of responsibilities and duties which he has to still perform in spite of his afflictions. Very noble thoughts indeed but what actually happens on the ground can be different. On the one hand, we had students who took great pride to go the extra mile, something coughing out money from not-so-hard-earned scholarship money to buy things for their 'adopted family' and present a beautiful photo-filled presentation in front of the class before Power-Point came to the picture! On the other hand, a colleague of mine did not bother to find out the whereabouts of her patient. A week before the deadline of the presentation, she discovered that he had succumbed to his disease long before her visit. They say necessity is the mother all inventions - she cooked a steamy hot story garnished with appropriate flavours to score very high marks indeed! (Nobody found out!)

Mine (in Phase 3) was a vagabond-like immigrant, a loafer, who was admitted with neck pain. As patients picked for CFCS were treated in the hospital for free, he used to bug me for slightest of ailment. Boy, was he a pain in the neck! I later discovered that he was a malingerer who wanted to get away from his duties of a restaurant helper. Unfortunately, he could do so as he had borrowed heavily from his employers and neither could he go back to his motherland India. See, there is more than meets the eye!
CFCS programme was especially an eye opener for the well-heeled medical student who had been brought up pampered and shielded from the reality of life. What better place to see this than in Kelantan Darul Naim. In some households in the periphery of Kuala Krai and Gua Musang, in the late 80s, a family of 10 would survive on a measly income of RM150 per month, but they were happy!

For them too, the sun also rises...

RRF to PPSP: Ep 4: The syllabli - PBL

McMasters' method of medical education was a deviation from the traditional medical studies norm that we usually hear of (at least in the 80s). In the old way, medical students were taught the pre-clinical subjects in the early years and were expected to integrate what they have learnt earlier in the clinical years at the tail end of their medical school and use them for the rest of their lives. The critics of this method argued that too much knowledge is learnt and wasted, not of clinical significance. In the USM model, this integration is done early via the problem-based approach of learning and their Holy Grail of community-centric teaching in the hope of producing community conscious physicians. It all sounds very novel and noble but in practice...

The powers that be decided that to reach the ambition of the Government determined race-based upliftment of society, they congregated a motley crew of students with variable academic capabilities in the hope of churning out the mush into something useful to society! (To quote Professor Charles Kingsfield of Paper Chase *- a TV law drama series in the 80s).
The enrolment of the class, after initial correction when the Dean gave an ultimatum for the purdah wearers to remove their facial veil and to do some alterations to their dull-hued shapeless drapes, was 96.

One of the pillars upon which PPSP was laid upon by the founding fathers - Prof Ong KH, Prof G Simmons. Prof Saidi, Dr Reddy, Dr Kyaw TS et al. - was PBL (problem-based learning). PBL would have (and shown its capability in many other countries) would have been just fine if students genuinely had the desire to learn through self-motivation minus the 'kiasu' mentality frequently associated with Malaysian students and the playing field of students' intelligence was levelled around an acceptable axis.

Now there was a joke among NUS (National University of Singapore) students. Everywhere in the world, the performance graph of students in a class would follow a bell-shaped normal distribution Gaussian graph except in Malaysia - where it would be skewed towards both ends resembling a dumbbell (the pun, the pun).

In PPSP, PBL (which is actually supposed to be a group discussion with all students giving input as a clinical case study is unveiled scenario by scenario and a resource person, usually a lecturer, acting as a facilitator) ends up as a staring contest! One group of students armed with all the knowledge was stingy to share whilst the other group had nothing to share as they were clueless on the topic. Some were just shy! Everyone was just pleased with 'hand-outs' - printed reading material which can be read at their leisure in the comfort of library or dormitory. One of us (TFLG) would say, "We have pride, we don't live on hand-outs!", but he would still take it anyway and studied that to pass the tests!

* ' "The study of law is something new and unfamiliar to most of you, unlike any other schooling you have ever known before. You teach yourselves the law, but I train your minds. You come in here with a skull full of mush and, if you survive, you leave thinking like a lawyer."'
Prof Charles W Kingsfield Jr of Paper Chase. → →

RRF to PPSP: Ep. 3: Brush with the authorities!

Damocles (a courtier in the royal court of the

tyrant Dionysius) exclaimed that, as a great man

of power and authority surrounded by

magnificence Dionysius was truly extremely

fortunate. Dionysius offered to switch places

with Damocles, so that Damocles could taste

that very fortune first hand. Damocles quickly

and eagerly accepted the King's proposal.

Damocles sat down in the king's throne

surrounded by every luxury, but Dionysius

arranged that a huge sword should hang

above the throne, held at the pommel only

by a single hair of a horse's tail. Damocles

finally begged the tyrant that he be allowed

to depart because he no longer wanted to

be so fortunate! (Wikipedia)

 The University Act was drafted in 1971 to keep a check on university students' opinion on current events after a spate of the ugly showdown between these young punks and the authorities. With that looming in the background like having a sword Damocles hanging above our necks, university students of the mid-70s onward were just toothless castrated tigers.

Many inequalities were happening right under our noses but we were just too aloof to say anything. We were just pretending to be too busy buried in our book till that day when a lecturer in Chemical Pathology (NAW) walked in on that fateful day.
That was the beginning of his second lecture. Rumours were circulating around the school that he was a disgruntled medical student sent on a government scholarship but had flunked his papers and had a bone to pick with us, medical students. Listening to his lectures we could understand why he flunked - he was clueless about his topics.

At the start of the lecture, he decreed that as from his next lecture, he wanted gender segregation to be practised in the hall. There should not be any male student sitting beside a female student as their concentration would not be 100%! We were aghast by such an order at such time of human civilization.
Then started the master planning late that evening in the hostel by all non-Muslim students. We did not involve Muslim Malay students as they decided to stay away so as not provoke the sensitivity of fellow Muslims. The sequence of events was masterly planned over the few days preceding the next lecture date. The Dean (an open-minded man) and a few students-friendly lecturers were informed on the decree and our course of action.

And the big day arrived without much pomp...

The front two rows of the lecture were occupied by pre-planned sitting arrangements, alternating non-Muslim male and female students. Of all days, yours truly was fashionably late that day. So there it was my empty seat right in the centre of the first row. NAW came in. After seeing the seating arrangement, he told sternly (in Bahasa Malaysia), "I am giving you 2 minutes to change your seats after which I will need to chase out of my class." And the time ticked ... And he said, "1 minute left..." Guess who walks in and like putting a cherry on the icing takes the centre seat right smack in the front row, (ME!), much to the amusement of the hall.

Furious, NAW chased each of us out, "You get out! you, you,...." to all 16 of us!

As planned we all marched to the Dean's office to put forward our predicament. Life went on. NAW's behaviour was discussed at the Senate level and was barred from lecturing for a period of time. He never lectured us for the rest of the year, anyway!

RRF to PPSP: Ep 2

Episode 2: Racial Polarization

University is the epitome of racial polarization in the country. That I found out upon entry to varsity. Everything else follows as this cream of society is destined to lead the rest of the country whose citizen would naturally follow the ideology of their leaders who have been soaked up growing in a soup of racial discrimination.  

University Sains Malaysia (USM) Medical School (PPSP in Malay) started its pioneer batch of students in 1981. Hence, I was in the third set of guinea pigs taught in a new medical education format based on the curriculum modelled by MacMasters Medical School in Hamilton, Canada. It was said that everyone was watching with eyes wide open, in curiosity and possibly for ridicule, its outcome as the system is said to challenge the tradition method of teaching in a medical school.

The enrollment of our class was 96 (after the final adjustments, more later). Admission to the school was via 2 modes- Matriculations (Pre-University course for privileged few) and STPM (A levels in public schools). The standards between this two are like comparing apples and oranges - no compare. Matriculation students are handpicked from the remaining pool of Bumi talent after the creme-ala-creme have been shipped off to represent the country in foreign country with Government-sponsored scholarships. The non-Bumi representative (less than 10%)is predominantly the offspring of those born with a silver spoon or massive political connections. These students are tested on a 6-month semester (then forget about it and concentrate on their next) basis. The mortals like us burn our butts, squeezing 2 years curricula in 18 months just to sit for the easily most difficult examination on planet Earth marked by unknown examiners! 

At the Matriculation course, the playing field is not level. The Non-Bumis are there just as an eyewash. The whole ideology of Matriculation is just to churn a lump of mush to something presentable for the university to them to professionals to meet the Government's social re-structuring. Even in the final exams, when the Bumi student scores 11As of 14As, he is declared the best student through some dubious criteria when there were loads of Non-Bumis obtaining all 14As. In our course of study, the non-Bumis from Matriculation remained aloof on controversies around them but stuck on to their purpose in life - to graduate with a medical degree at the end of the day.

100% of Bumi students (79 in number) in my medical were Matriculation graduates. A handful of them were open-minded and aware of the birds, bees, critical thinking, and could share jokes commonly enjoyed by young adults! Unfortunately, the majority of them were walking zombies. They appear to be draped in Middle eastern desert long tunics with unimaginative colours (both male and female). Speaking English seem alien with unwitting mixing of tenses and gender, e.g. he is having monthly periods!
All Bumi students, rich or poor, were financed by the Government obtained PSD scholarships, 100%. Whilst the mortals, the nons, toil the hot sun to queue to pay our university tuition fees, the bumis would just zoom past in their 650cc bikes. And they wonder why 1-Malaysia cannot be achieved!
Of the remaining 16 non-Bumis in PPSP, 8 were from STPM whilst the rest were from matriculation.
With a motley crew of medical students flocked together in an experiment to prove to the world that their untested system will work, with our future on the chopping block, we, the STPM batch of students, basically spent the good of the first year pondering upon the quality of healers we would be. Or will we just be shamans or kahunas with all mumbo-jumbo happening around us?         

                                        

N.B. In the '80s, when TV tele-serials were in their infancy, and the terrestrial TVs were the only option available, everybody knew all famous, exciting TV shows in all languages. The original 'Shanghai Beach' to the tune of Frances Yip used to echo in the corridors of RRF and was a personal favourite friend of mine, YGC, who used to hum it in class! Even Sudirman and Noor Kumalasari sang it on TV. Talk about spontaneous national integration.

RRF no more! to PPSP

Episode 1 (Pilot)
The bell bottoms of the 70s was getting out of fashion in the 80s. The hairs still remained fluffy and thick. People rarely went to barbers, they just trimmed the hair around the ear or just pulled it back! The bells at the bottom of pants got slimmer, maybe not as thin as the drain pipe.
After SPM (the O levels), I spent a lot time at Klang when my uncle moved in to his brand new bungalow in a brand new house estate which is now in a prime area in thick of activities. During this time, I had the privilege of establishing male bonding with a few guys who were there too at time or another - including G, P and LBM.
After finally uprooting ourselves from RRF to plant ourselves in BG, I hardly spent any time (a year and a half) before it was time to be off to varsity. Euphoria was the order of the week in the Sham family at the tail end of May 1983. Letters manifested from NUS and USM offering engineering and medicine respectively. After much deliberation, I decided (with the guidance of the most learned person in the family, Mama) to pursue medical studies in Universiti Sains Malaysia, Penang.
After spending 7 years in Penang Free School (PFS), the premier school in the country with a proud tradition to match it, the first impression upon entry to medical school of USM was one of disbelief and grief. Grief, for not opting to Singapore, the shining metropolitan city with its prestigious and glamorous institute of a higher learning to match. Disbelief? Scoring relatively good results in STPM (Malaysian equivalent of A levels), products of schools with a grandeur history of records, my batch mates could not believe that we were sharing a medical school (in our book were the pinnacle of achievement of any school boy) with some of the most unforgettable characters that one can encounter (maybe on Harold Lloyd's slapstick comedy sketch).
Landing in PFS from Hutchings was a culture shock in a positive way, where brilliant child prodigies were roaming about the place with intelligence oozing from their every orifice. In USM medical school  (PPSP), we were  plastered with ghostly apparitions which were quite aliens to us even though we were all living and grew in the same country and studied the same syllabi. Never before in our lives, have we had ever seen such a mammoth congregations of real apparitions in penguin-like suit draped over torsos, faces and heads in unimaginative dull dark unattractive hues and lifeless designs, walking looking at the ground as if they were looking for spare change. (Reminds me of Pink Floyd's 'Another Brick on the Wall' music video where the school children were walking aimlessly and clueless in a robotic manner.)
A tinge of uncertainty or maybe regret was there at the back of the mind if I had indeed made the correct decision of choosing USM instead of the scintillating metropolitan lights of the state city of Singapore and its glamorous and prestigious institute of higher learning to match, NUS.
I could not stomach the fact that some of my brilliant school-mates were denied entry to local varsities and had to uproot themselves off to foreign lands which were receiving them with open arms, Singapore in particular. And here, we were stuck with walking zombies. To be fair, there were some intelligent chaps amongst us but the partition of Bumiputras and nons were as apparent as the Partition of North and South Korea along the 38th parallel!

There were students who were even from places that I never knew existed in Malaysia, like Kota Sarang Semut! (in Kedah, later I found out). Some were alien to the lingua franca of the world- English and knew only a smatter of it, Yes, sir. Yes sir. Three bags full!
There was a group of withdrawn students in my faculty who found solace amongst the same kind who had the delusion that we were traveling in a desert storm. They seem well versed in Arabic language as if we were living at the time of the Islamic Renaissance. Their every sentence spoken in public would be prefixed with full regatta of Islamic greetings (Bismillahir Rahmanir Rahim.Assalamulaikum warahmatullahir wabarakatuh ...kesyukuran ke hadrat Allah Subhanahu Wata’ala atas limpah kurniaNya...) and they would put the rest of us, the infidels, in our places by a simple 'have a nice day' (salam sejahtera).
                                                                                                          to be continued...................