Monday, 4 September 2023

Casr From The Herd Excerpt # 94: The Twig

 Cast From The Herd:  Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpt # 94:  The Twig


In August, we Upper-Six Formers had to sit for the university scholarship examination. Unlike other tests, the scores would not be released. You would know how well you did from the quality of the scholarship you would be awarded, or not awarded. By October, the letters for the scholarship interviews began arriving, with aspiring engineers to be interviewed one week and future doctors, another. 


            The week before the interview a rumor began swirling around. The clerk who typed those letters of recommendation from the teachers had left one unsecured on his desk overnight, and the prefect who entered the office had an accidental peek. It was Mr. Norton’s letter of recommendation on me. I was embarrassed when the purported content was related. Not that I was displeased, but the effusive praise made me uncomfortable. Nazuddin however, complimented me, assuring me that Norton carried considerable weight in Kuala Lumpur. That was all I needed; flattery to distract me just before an important interview. Lay on the burden! 


            To avoid taking too much time off seeing that we were in the critical final term, my would-be doctor classmates and I took the late afternoon train to arrive in Kuala Lumpur early the next morning in time for the interview. We would then return the same afternoon to arrive back by late evening. 


            The interview was at the Public Service Commission’s office up on the hill at Jalan Young, not far from the train station. After freshening ourselves up at the station and having breakfast at the mamak (Indian) stall, we strolled up the hill. The city was still empty and the air, cool. The rising sun had yet to warm it. We arrived just as the office was opening. 


            The complex was a former British army base and comprised a series of Quonset huts connected by covered walkways. When the British troops left, the complex became a major government office. The Prime Minister at the time, Tunku Abdul Rahman, unlike his later successors, was not one to splurge on ostentatious buildings for his civil servants. He would rather spend the money on schools and scholarships. The only concession to modernity was the wall air-conditioner units. They were already humming full blast that brisk morning. Those local officers must have missed the English weather of their student days. 


            The waiting room had a stiff, subdued air of formality, with individual wooden chairs. I was seventh in line for the interview but the first after the mid-morning break. The four of us from Kuala Kangsar were the first to arrive. Soon others trickled in. Judging from how fresh they looked, they must be from local schools. 


            Ramli whispered, “We have tough competition!” 


            I agreed, which triggered the hitherto quiet butterflies in my stomach although I had fortified myself psychologically for this interview. Sometime in the past my grandfather had taught me some pointers. He reminded me to always remember that my interviewers were also humans and that after they had done questioning me they would go home and face all the mundane problems of ordinary mortals; their kids quarrelling and spouses arguing, among others. So do not be intimidated by them. 


            He instructed me on some petua (rituals). On entering the room I should have in my closed right palm a small twig, and to make eye contact with each interviewer. Then I was to recite a verse from the Holy QurK’an which, approximately translated, states that we are all children of Adam and that there is a greater power up there governing us all. Then I should surreptitiously snap the twig, symbolizing my ‘breaking’ the interviewers’ power over me. From then on I would be unafraid of and effectively control the interview, my grandfather assured me. 


            During the break my three classmates who had been interviewed earlier that morning related their ordeals. Yusof Sidek was angry because they asked him to cite examples of medicinally-important plants. Another was asked about malaria. That surprised me as I thought the interview was to get to know us as a person, not to gauge our scientific knowledge. That was already tested in the examination. In preparing for this interview, all I did was review general topics like why I wanted to be a doctor. Knowing what Yusof Sidek and the others had been through only made me even more nervous. 


Next:  Excerpt # 95:  So You Want To Be A Doctor!