Opportunity for betterment

Recollections of a bygone era in his village of birth, and the time this writer received a small scholarship that changed the course of his life.

AS a village, Alor Merah – where I was born – was a fairly large entity.

Post-world War Two, most village adults were not well educated, some illiterate, particularly the womenfolk.

Parents wanted education for their children, recognising its importance as a stepping stone for a better future. It was fortunate that, being a large village, it had a primary school for boys and another for girls. I can’t recall any of my contemporaries of schoolgoing age not enrolling. School was another phase in our village life.

We enrolled in the village primary school upon reaching the age of six. We had dedicated teachers for whom we had only respect. They also held our parents’ respect. It was unthinkable for any pupil to go home and complain about punishment meted out by any teacher. It would attract greater punishment at home. We were none the worse under the circumstances. If anything, we would become better adults and parents.

Following the morning conventional school, the Malay pupils returned after lunch for religious classes. We started in Class Zero (sifar) and finished at Standard Three. Afternoon classes were a challenge as not only pupils would fall asleep but teachers as well. One afternoon, my class ustaz woke up with a start to find the class a bit noisy and proceeded to cane everyone! His “cane” was a bundle of coconut leaf spines or lidi twisted around and tied with rubber bands. I am sure every pupil remembered the teacher and the formidable cane!

My family was frequently short of money. Not a major challenge when I was in primary school; however, it became very pressing when I started secondary school in Remove Class at Sultan Abdul Hamid College, Alor Setar. By this time we were a family of eight! My stepfather had retired from teaching. His pension was meagre.

I had only one new change of clothing per year, for Hari Raya. Besides school uniforms, I had two sarongs, one of which doubled up as a blanket and a few hand-medowns from my stepbrother.

In secondary school, we needed new school uniforms, leather shoes, special text books by certain authors, bus fares and pocket money. Those who had elder brothers or cousins in upper secondary classes, could have these text books handed down. Nonetheless, some still had to be bought.

Elder siblings usually got the priority to buy books.

I was hauled to the headmaster’s office once as into the second month I still did not have the full complement of textbooks. I gave a genuine doleful, helpless look and was sent back to class.

I got my books after my mother’s gold bracelet was pawned! Every year up to Form Five, this ordeal persisted. (I’m not sure if my mother’s pawned bracelet was ever redeemed ...)

I remember my stepfather sending me to a neighbour to borrow a small amount of money to tide us over until month’s end. He obliged a small amount. In the meantime, the dues from my stepfather to Mamak Daud for provisions kept growing. The Mamak kept us fed although the overdue amount at the end of each month was never fully settled.

I did not participate much in sports at college since I lacked the money to buy tennis or badminton rackets, football boots or track shoes.

Hockey sticks were supplied by the college. This was the only sport I indulged in, though not for long. Playing barefoot had its downside!

When I reached Form Six, I received a small scholarship. The monthly stipend really helped my family and certainly facilitated my education.

I could never repay my parents for their sacrifices to ensure my siblings and I had a better future.when I was a student in England, I remitted money home several times a year. When I started working, a mandatory portion of my salary was set aside for my parents until they passed away.

I understand what it means to be poor. My life was different from the other kampung kids’ due to the scholarship availed to me for further studies. Many were less fortunate. They grew old in the kampung, living a life unchanged. A classmate ended up in Kuala Lumpur working as a driver. I still feel a bit downcast and sad knowing that many could not escape the chain binding them though they had escaped to the city. Why? I could have been one of them!

When it was my children’s turn to continue their studies, we deliberately did not apply for scholarships though they excelled and would have qualified. We knew we could be somewhat financially strapped sending four kids for studies overseas, but there were parents less fortunate than us whose children could benefit from the scholarships.

Education provides opportunity for betterment and raises society to a higher level. The effects of education is broad and encompassing. A country with poor education remains poor. In a country like Malaysia, education could be the glue for racial harmony. Education should be a national, not political, agenda!

The village remains. The laterite roads have been resurfaced and tarred. The main road north is now a dual carriageway. The old schools are still there plus some new wings. There is a new and bigger mosque as well as new shophouses. Something is missing, though. The old village verve and spirit are gone, it seems.

More older folks there now as the young ones have migrated to towns and cities for employment. The lucky parents may have remittances from these children or remain poor. Many are too old to work. Rice fields are rented out or left fallow for lack of tenant farmers.

The river, Sungai Kedah, is neglected and polluted with plastic, styrofoam and other wastes. Islands of rubbish and water hyacinth block water flow and tides. The river is dead. Fishes and prawns have long disappeared. No iguanas, otters or tortoises. Perhaps a few catfish still survive ... even these hardy scavengers may soon disappear.

Perhaps, intuitively, I long for the village of old ...