Not quite a flight by night!

The House of the Rising Tikam.
A ruin of many a poor boy.

It was 1972, and we were excited to be back in school. Unlike the previous years, our Standard Three class was in the afternoon session. But like the year before that, we also had a fierce-looking master as our class teacher. It was just the second day into the schooling year. Formal teaching had not started, and everyone was so excited about seeing each other after the long end-of-year break.

As in the previous year too, OBK seems to be the most popular student in the class. Like ants to sugar, everyone was pulled to his table between lessons. The loud conversations and the exclamatory remarks naturally drew me to OBK's corner. I was wondering what tall story was he up to this time.

There he was, collecting coins and returning the balance. Naturally, I was drawn in, curious in wanting to know what all that money translation was about. In between pocketing the money and answering to his 'clients', OBK briefly explained his proposal. He was to issue a piece of paper bearing his name and a promise. If one were to keep that paper till the beginning of the next school year, he could claim his dues. A piece worth 10 cents and would be worth 30 the following year. Wow, 200% returns!

His offer was being snapped up like hotcakes. The proposal appeared too simple. Just by tucking a piece of paper into my wallet and leaving it to rot would earn money. That sounded like a good deal. I paid my 10 cents and patted myself for being smart.

Time flew. Standard Three passed us by. Mr Beh, our class-master, proved to be a tyrant after all. He thought he was imparting wisdom to his students with his secret weapon of pinching the inner thigh, pulling the side-burns and public stripping of students. 

1973 came without much hoopla. I was excited thinking of the thirty cents that I was due to get, counting all the days for school to start. 

All the remunerations' joy came down to zilch when all of us arrived at school on that day. OBK was no more to be found. Maybe he may come the next day, we thought. Nothing. And the next day. And the next day. He had apparently changed school, away to another state. That was it. The promise of a 'windfall', by our own standards, came tumbling down. 

To this day, we were left wondering. Did he plan such an elaborate plan knowing quite well that he and his family were moving? Was it just a scam to get quick cash to finance whatever he was up to? 

Anyway, an experience like this in School of Hard Knocks built our mantle in dealing with the challenges in life as we eased ourselves into adulthood. Parents never knew about it. We just let it be and moved on with life. Smarter!

Come to think of it, Jho Low's modus operandi smells much like OBK's - promise the moons and the stars to clients whilst JL and MO1 have a whale of a time.

https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

First east of Suez!

Malaya had it better. Not that we were not colonised but because our colonial masters were much kinder than some that over neighbours got. Look at the Indochinese countries and the mess the French left behind. Their masters not only pilfered the region of its wealth but try to erase their advanced ancient culture. The Dutch left a bad aftertaste even long after their long departure. Belgians used their subjects as target practice to milk their dry of their diamonds, minerals, natural resources and even exotic fauna. Even the Land of the Free, the Thais, did not gain so much of order in their country. Elsewhere, the Spanish wiped out a civilisation with their carnage and smallpox.

Malaya was left by the captors a proper system of administration, legal and education systems when they finally gain independence. With this head start, they started their status as a new country with an advantageous jump-start. The euphoria of the new nation pushed it great heights producing new talents from the clan of natives.

The same thing happened in the field of education. We have Penang Free School, St Xavier's Institution, Andersons, Victoria Institution, St Paul's, St Francis Institute and many more. The products of these schools had served this country well all this while. Unfortunately, many turns of events after people of a particular vision of how our nation should be heading, took the helm, these godowns of knowledge have turned into just another certificate stomping factories churning out half-baked scholars dearth of scholastic and charismatic prowesses! They have become just another statistic in the list of schools providing basic literacy to the nation.

No doubt the upper crust of echelon are there yearning to serve the motherland, but like a stepchild, they are discriminated. Hence what do they become? They only provide a reservoir for the rest of the world with their level-headed leader to pinch our boys, give citizenship, to tie them down and prosper. 

This is the impression I got when I had the chance to meet many of my long lost school mates over the weekend in my alma mater's celebration of its 200th year of establishment. Many of classmates have been engulfed by the red dot at the southern tip of our country. Others have looked and moved westwards. It appears like this country has to make do with discards and half-boiled visions. Reaching excellence is nowhere on our agenda.

How one Malaysian school became a bright spot in colonialism’s dark legacy

http://m.scmp.com/comment/insight-opinion/article/2038580/how-one-malaysian-school-became-bright-spot-colonialisms

N. Balakrishnan celebrates the founding two centuries ago of Southeast Asia’s oldest English school, which gave generations of youth an education not just of the mind, but also of the heart. 

N. BALAKRISHNAN

PUBLISHED : Thursday, 20 October, 2016, 12:39pm

UPDATED : Thursday, 20 October, 2016, 12:39pm

The Penang Free School. Minority voices have been saying that the old school was a colonial relic best forgotten.
But while the school may have been “elitist” in one sense, it was also an avenue for social mobility for many.

Neither of my parents knew any English. The reason I can write passable English is down to the schools I attended in Penang, Malaysia. Penang Free School, my secondary school, celebrates its 200th anniversary on October 21. It was established three years before modern Singapore was “founded” by Stamford Raffles, and is the oldest English school in Southeast Asia.

The school’s storied history reminds me of the Janus-faced nature of British colonialism in this part of the world. One article of faith since my youngest days has been that colonialism is an evil system. Today, however, I realise colonialism has its merits; it moulded me and many generations in Malaysia in more ways, both positive and negative, than we would like to admit.

The founder of Penang Free School, English clergyman Robert Sparke Hutchings, who died of malaria in his 40s in Penang, proved that not all who worked for the East India Company were exploiters. He seemed a farsighted man, who wanted to ensure the school was free of religious control.

Malaysia’s first prime minister Tunku Abdul Rahman, and the nation’s best known actor P. Ramlee, were educated there, along with many academics and Dr Wu Lien Teh, the physician who was instrumental in fighting the plague in China by recommending the cremation of victims, a revolutionary idea at that time.

Minority voices have been saying that the old school was a colonial relic best forgotten. But while the school may have been “elitist” in one sense, it was also an avenue for social mobility for many. It also taught us the quaint notion that duty and team spirit are more important than “winner takes all” individualism. As one classmate and good friend said, the school was built to produce the self-sacrificing civil servants needed to keep the empire going, except that the empire it was meant to serve collapsed but the school kept churning out students with character anyway.

The result is that Free School boys, particularly the Chinese and Indian Malaysians among them, can be found scattered around the world, since opportunities became narrow in the modern Malaysia of ethnic preferences.

Both Abdul Rahman and P. Ramlee died poor. I cannot think of any Malaysian prime minister or famous actor today who will die in anything but extreme luxury. The values taught by the school may seem absurd in contemporary Malaysia. But looking at the greed and selfishness that is not only prevalent but admired today, I think maybe Reverend Hutchings should be seen as an inspiration. On October 21, for the first time in my life, I will be sincerely toasting the merits of colonialism.

N. Balakrishnan is a Hong Kong-based businessman.

Full circle?

So there was this guy who appeared in a similar attire as mine on my 4th birthday bash back in 1967. His grandmother was my parents' landlady when they moved into their first matrimonial place of stay. Their relationship with this matriarchal figure persisted even when they moved into their own home. Hence, the invitation and the photograph....
After the meeting in the late 60s, our lives (both guys in striped shirts) intertwined again in secondary school, though in different classes and off we went again different ways after the 80s.
As luck had it, with the help of social media, some old buddies met up at one friend's daughter's wedding. Midst of it all, a burly chap approached the table we were at, with the most boisterous of laughter. Quickly, he introduced himself. Everyone at the people was looking at each other, hoping that someone could correctly identify him. You see, he had now embraced a new name and new appearance after his wedding. Yes, not only ladies lose their surname but sometimes men lose their and their father's name!
I may not know the whole story, but I thought RK was born Chinese and was adopted by an Indian family. He is now dressed and articulated like a Malay. RK, now RA has lived a full circle amongst the major ethnicities of Peninsular Malaysia.