Cast From The Herd: Excerpt #89: A New Breed of Prefects

 Cast From The Herd:  Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpt # 89:  A New Breed of Prefects

Earlier I mentioned that teachers at Malay College, being a fully residential school, played a major influence in the lives of their students beyond the classrooms. More specifically these teachers, especially the senior ones, had a pivotal role in selecting prefects, and through that influence the path and culture of the college’s student body. Prefects enjoyed a number of privileges, the most coveted being the luxury of a private cubicle in the dorm they were assigned to supervise.

            Near the end of the year the current prefects would vet potential candidates and forward the list to the headmaster. He in consultation with the teachers would then make the final choice. It was also the tradition to appoint in their second year those new Sixth Formers who had been head prefects at their former school. In my year there was a bumper crop of them, far exceeding the available slots. Meaning, a few potential candidates among the old timers would not be appointed as the slots would have been correspondingly reduced. 

            Those aspiring prefects would begin their ‘campaign’ by being on the good side of the current ones. Some would be more blatant, earning the wrath of their college mates for “sucking up;” others, more subtle. By the time the prefects’ board met, the rumors would be rife as to who had been successful and who were not. 

            The headmaster and teachers would then review the list of nominees put up by the present prefects’ board. It was after the teachers’ meeting that rumors began flying – I was among those considered even though I was not on the submitted list. Incredible! That had never happened before. Adding to the incredulity, I was far from being a standout in anything. I was not even a prefect at my old school. Nonetheless the rumor was hot. 

            When something unusual happens or even threatens to, it cries for an explanation. My name must have been put forward by my teachers, in particular Norton or Mehrotra. They did so for the single purpose to signal an important shift in the college’s emphasis. I was not convinced. Ryan would not deny those newcomers who had been head prefects at their old school this singular honor. More to the point, with the exception of a couple, all had excelled at rugby, his favorite sport. Soon the dust settled; my nomination was just that, a rumor. Normalcy returned to the Sixth Form dorm. 

            At that last school assembly for the year when Ryan read the highly-anticipated list, the first few names were no surprise. I was pleased that Ramli was picked. Then surprise of surprises, my name was announced! Immediately after doing that Ryan looked up, smirking as if asking, “Anyone has a problem with that?” 

            The hall was quiet. Apart from my fellow Sixth Formers, few in the school had heard of or even seen me. Many heads turned towards the back of the hall where we Sixth Formers were seated. Ramli whispered to me, “And you did not believe me!” 

            That was not the only surprise that morning. Ryan also announced the new head prefect to replace the graduating Nik Mohamad, a rugby legend. By tradition that honor would go to someone from the incoming graduating class – my class. The rumored two leading contenders were Mokthar Hashim and Syed Ridzuan, my old tennis coach and more importantly, also a rugby star. Instead, Ryan again stunned everyone when he named neither Mokthar nor Syed, but someone from the junior class (Lower Six). Meaning, the new head prefect would serve for two consecutive years, again an unheard of practice, at least till then. Aziz Mahmud was not just any scholar-athlete; more specific, he was a rugby standout. That notwithstanding I believed that Ryan and the teachers selected Aziz based on his scholastic achievements. He would later distinguish himself as a public health physician. 

            I had an inkling of my selection earlier. One evening I bumped into Mr. Norton when he was the duty master for the week; he inquired what I intended to take up at university. It would have been blatant false modesty if I were to respond with the usual “I want to be a teacher.” So I upped my ambition a bit, “Dentistry!” 

            He cringed. “I mean, Bakri,” he hesitated, “If that’s your real interest, that’s fine.” Then he smiled, “You know traditionally,” he hummed and hawed, “at least with my generation,” he paused again, “dentistry is, you know, for those who couldn’t get into medicine. You know what I mean?” Then aware that he should not have said it, apologized. “I mean no offence to dentists!” He laughed. 

            Oh my God, this man saw through me. Then he reminisced about his days at Fordham, and enthused on the superiority of American liberal education. Subsequent to that Mr. Mehrotra too inquired about my future plans. Then one evening in the library Mr. Ryan asked my opinion about the library and whether there were enough science reference books. He let me know that the college was embarking on a new direction to emphasize the sciences. He asked how I was managing college life (“Super, of course!”). Then he noted that since I had not stayed at a hostel before (How did he know that?), he was interested in my views of dorm life. At that time I thought those were merely simple courtesies and small talk.

 

            Those thoughts reeled through me as I went up on stage for Mr. Ryan to pin that coveted prefect’s badge on me. As I walked up I made eye contact with Norton and Mehrotra who were seated on either side of Ryan. Both smiled. That was also the first time many in the audience had seen me, apart from my forgettable performance at Introduction Night earlier in the year. 

Next:  Excerpt #90:  A Prefect De-Badged