Malay Leaders' Shameless Lack of Dignity (Takde Maruah)

 Malay Leaders’ Shameless Lack of Dignity (Takde Maruah)

M. Bakri Musa

 

October 3, 2023

 

The recent blip in the local news about the son of former Religious Minister and longtime Federal Mufti Zulkifli Albakri receiving zakat funds to pursue religious studies in Jordan drew a yawn from me. That reflects less of me, more on the current entrenched lack of shame (takde maruah) among Malay leaders of all stripes, religious as well as secular.

 

            That this involved zakat funds (tithe) meant for the poor should have caused an uproar, but even that fact did not. On the contrary, both Albakri and the religious officials who approved the “award” went at great length to justify their actions. That reveals the extent to which our norms and values (including religious) have been degraded.

 

            I would be generous and compliment that young man, as well as his father, had he (the son) pursued Quantum Physics at Caltech or Harvard. However, this was a scholarship for religious studies at a third-rate university and in the Third World to boot. Malaysia should not be sending her students there. Besides, Malays need another Islamic scholar like we need another rainy day during the monsoon season.

 

            I see so many children of Malay elite getting government dole. As such my threshold for shock is high. That notwithstanding, let us call Albakri’s son’s case for what it is, a “scholarship” or “study award” it is not.

 

            How did our community get degraded to this shameful stage?

 

            Then consider this. Long before that perennial and loudest self-professed champion of berdikari (self-reliance) and Ketuanan Melayu (Malay Hegemony) Mahathir Mohamad became Prime Minister, he had a thriving private medical practice. That notwithstanding, he put all his children on the dole by their attending government residential schools, thus sparing himself what other parents had to pay:  tuition fees, room and board, as well as textbooks. Likewise their university education, sanitized as “scholarships!” All these while running up and down the country exhorting Malays to emulate the Chinese by being self-sufficient. Today at 98 years old and rejected by voters, he changes his tune. Mahathir now blames pendatangs (non-Malays) for our sorry plight.

 

            I am no longer shocked by such revelations as with Albakri’ son. Instead I choose to remember the rare exceptions when Malays break from this “waiting for government handout” mentality. Years ago, a senior minister’s son who had just graduated from an Ivy League university confessed to me why he did not return to Malaysia. He was on his father’s ‘scholarship’ and as such was spared such an obligation. He feared that whatever achievements he made in Malaysia would forever be tainted as a consequence of his family ties. Refreshing perspective! Many a Malay Oxford graduate would exploit that relationship.

 

            Six decades ago when my youngest sibling was awarded a university scholarship, my parents asked her to decline the offer. Instead, they paid her way. We had been blessed to have all her older brothers and sisters getting scholarships, my late father reasoned, that it was time to give others the chance. My parents were then close to retirement. Nonetheless with a Malay schoolteacher’s salary, even with both working, that was a struggle, but my parents managed it. I was never more proud of them.

 

            Once a physician in government service chided me for criticizing Malay professionals sending their children to these expensive fully-subsidized residential schools.

 

            “It’s fine for you to say that, Bakri. You are in private practice and in America to boot. Remember how lousy your pay was as a government doctor back in Malaysia!”

 

            Agreed! So the exceptions would be for those Malay professionals in public service. Give their children scholarships but only if they were to attend top universities, and pursuing other than revealed knowledge and prophetic traditions.

 

            Many years ago on the occasion of his son graduating from an elite university, I complimented my late friend Ahmad “Kim” Sabian, a retired furniture salesman. He and his wife Rose were well known to generations of Malaysian students here in the San Francisco Bay Area for their wonderful satay. I congratulated him (and his son Hisham), remarking that he had one up over those Malay ministers back home in that he did it without having to depend on MARA or some such bodies. Kim could hardly hold back his tears. Those tears were less of joy, more a sense of self-pride and accomplishment.

 

            It is this sense of accomplishment and self-pride that we must instill in our people if we Malays were to have our rightful slot in this world or even Malaysia. Endlessly shouting that Malaysia belongs to Malays would not do it. Save your breath!

 

            I am certain that in his next khutba, Albakri would at great length quote chapter and verse on the importance of giving zakat. However, it would never occur to him to even contemplate the flip side of that, that is, the reciprocal obligation of not consuming precious zakat funds.

 

            Tunjuk lah maruah sikit! (Show some self-dignity and self-pride.) You owe that to yourself, your children, and most of all your congregation and community. During this Maulud Nabi when we are asked to emulate our Prophet, s.a.w., Mufti Albakri should ask himself whether our Prophet, s.a.w, would do or approve of what he (Albakri) did.

 

            The only redeeming feature to this whole shameful saga is that there was someone in that Religious Department with a modicum of integrity and self-pride. He emulated our beloved Prophet, s.a.w., in that when he saw evil being perpetrated, he did the right thing. He leaked that information in the hope that it could be stopped. It did not. Nonetheless his action gives me hope.

Cast From The Herd Excerpt #97: The Novice Teacher

 Cast From The Herd:  Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpt # 97:  The Novice Teacher 

Mr. Norton had earlier discussed my being a temporary teacher at Malay College during the hiatus before going abroad. I was thrilled to be considered. While prestige was a factor, the more practical reason was that I would have some money before going to Canada. 

            So that early December after leaving Malay College, I was anticipating the letter from “Headmaster, The Malay College” inviting me to return. January came and there was none. Disappointed, I went to my old Tuanku Muhammad School (TMS) in Kuala Pilah, but it had already made its selection. I scoured the “jobs wanted” ads but scored zero. 

            Later in the week my cousin Baharuddin who was teaching at the new Idris English School in Tanjong Ipoh, a couple of miles from my home, dropped by and said that his school was desperate for a science teacher. The headmaster, Mr. Chin Chin Ngan, happened to be my former home-room teacher during my Form Two at TMS. So that very afternoon I went to make my application. He was still in his office and better yet, remembered me. After a brief interview he offered me the job. 

            I started the very next day and was issued the science syllabus and textbooks. The textbooks were translations of a discarded series once used in the English stream. They were so outdated and full of errors that I was surprised the government saw fit to translate them. Perhaps they had the cheapest royalty payments. To refer to them as books would be too generous. They were but flimsy mimeograph sheets stapled together, with the print bleeding through, making reading them a challenge. The frequent irritating and glaring typos only made things worse. 

            The translations were appalling and erratic. They had translated the word instead of its root through slight alterations in the spelling as with reaksi for reaction (chemical). That only complicated matters when it came to finding the appropriate derivatives like “reactivity.” The translations were also inconsistent and haphazard, with “reaction” variously translated as reaksi and tindakbalas. In other instances they were simplistic, as with kotiliden for cotyledon. 

            I dispensed with the textbooks’ amateurish (or more accurately, half-assed) translations, reasoning that whether it was kotiliden or cotyledon, both would be new terms to my students. So why not learn the original English? That would help them with the reference books. I remembered the old brochures of the Rubber Research Institute’s extension department that my father used to receive where they maintained the original scientific terms. I reasoned that if my father could readily understand them, so could these bright young students. 

            I also ignored the obsolete experiments and made my students do the same ones I did at their level. I also designed new ones on seed germination, for example, and made them collect tadpoles and banana leaf moths to observe and record their metamorphosis. Those exercises served as a good introduction into science by sharpening their powers of observation and stimulating their interest in the natural environment. 

            Although these students came up through Malay primary schools, they were very different from my classmates at my mother’s old school a decade earlier. These students were more like those in the English stream:  smartly dressed with socks and shoes, far from the kaki ayam (barefooted) with ragged shirts and pants that were the standard attire back then. 

            Like my prep school students at Malay College the year earlier, these kids were eager and diligent, but subdued and not assertive. A few may have been on par intellectually with the boys of my prep school, but as a group I could tell the difference. Part of the problem was their limited English proficiency. It did not help that they were put among English-stream schoolmates. Then there was their teacher – me, raw and untrained. 

            Between the excitement of a new job and the challenge of teaching science in Malay, the day went fast. Soon it was the end of the month and payday. What a pleasant surprise! I was told that my pay was $310.00 per month, the standard rate. My paycheck however, was considerably more, almost equal to my father’s, and he had been teaching for decades. I had not factored in the assorted allowances like COLA (Cost of Living Allowance). Right there I was impressed with the value of education as an investment. It paid, and did so very well for me. 

            My father often discussed filial obligations with us. He reminded us that when we get our first paycheck we should offer him a portion, however small, as a symbolic gesture. So I did. To my surprise he refused it, as did my mother. She advised me to save the money as I would need it in Canada. So for subsequent paychecks I banked almost the entire amount as I had no living expenses being that I lived at home. 

            How fortuitous that I was not offered the Malay College job. The pay would have been the same but I would have had all those living expenses. Whoever made that decision did me a great favor. Later I discovered that I was indeed offered the position, but the appointment letter was misaddressed to a Kampung Tengah in Perak, not Negri Sembilan. 

            There was one major embarrassment. My younger brother Adzman was in Form Two of the English stream, and I had to teach his class Art. I was a dud when it came to anything artistic. Now I had to teach it – to my brother! It was a source of endless embarrassment for me. 

            I read all the books on art I could get. One in particular was helpful, Art and the Human Form. I learned much that would help me later in my anatomy class at medical school. My parents also helped me with my lesson plans by letting me read theirs. 

            When the first term holidays came, I was more than ready for it. Earlier I had approached my headmaster whether there were courses over the holidays I could take, as with those earlier “normal-trained” teachers. There were none. Six years after introducing Malay secondary schools, they still had no formal program to train the teachers, especially for critical subjects like science and mathematics. This to me, and the earlier problem with textbooks, represented a dereliction of duty of the highest order by the country’s top leaders.  Their victims? Again like today, young poor Malay kids.

Next:  Excerpt # 98:  Getting My Driver’s License

Ucapan Anwar Ibrahim di BBB

 Endahnya Ucapan Anwar Ibrahim Di Persidangan Agung Bangsa Bangsa Bersatu

M. Bakri Musa

 

26 September 2023

 

Ucapan rasmi pertama Perdana Menteri Anwar Ibrahim pada 22 September 2023 di Perhimpunan Agung Tahunan Ke-78 Pertubuhan Bangsa-Bangsa Bersatu (UNGA) amat mengakumi. Dari segi nada, gaya serta isi beliau menyentuh semua dengan beres dan fasih samada isu serantau, seluruh dunia, atau antara sempadan seperti pemanasan dunia dan peminggiran golongan miskin.

 

            Beliau bermula dengan kata aluan dalam Bahasa Melayu serta sambutan Islam sebelum beralih ke Bahasa Inggeris untuk ucapannya. Dengan Baju Melayunya dan samping serta songkok yang berwarna sederhana dia memancar suasana yang anggun. Dia sedar bahawa UNGA bukanlah tempatnya untuk mempamerkan pakaian berwarna-warni, mengayakan budaya yang pelik, atau bahasa yang kuno tetapi untuk berkongsi dan menukar fikiran dengan pemimpin lain supaya dunia yang kita orang takluk ini mungkin menjadi lebih baik dan adil. Itulah kecemerlangan Anwar. Ramai pemimpin kita yang sudah berucap di UNGA tetapi tidak siapa pun yang setanding dengan Anwar Ibrahim sama ada dari segi gaya atau kandongan.

 

            Sebelum Anwar ialah Perdana Menteri Ismail Sabri. Gaya dan sikapnya adalah secara kampung. Dia lebih berminat main politik tempatan kononnya dengan menyampaikan ucapannya dalam Bahasa Melayu. Dia mungkin mendapat pujian tertinggi daripada pejuang bahasa di tanah air tetapi sayangnya sebilangan kecil sahaja perwakilan yang mengunakkan fon telinga mereka. Maknanya, tidak ramai memberi perhatian. Siapa yang ingin mendengar suara si penterjemah? Sebelum Ismail Sabri, giliran Muhyiddin Yassin pula. Dia lebih baik menyampaikan ucapannya dalam Bahasa Melayu dan bergantung kepada penterjemah rasmi.

 

            Tuturan Bahasa Inggeris Najib Razak agak lebih beres, akibat didikannya di sekolah berasrama British. Tetapi pembentangannya bergaya hanya dari segi Bahasa; kandongannya kosong. Bagi Abdullah Badawi pula, ucapannya di UNGA dan di tempat lain bolehlah kita lupakan, seperti juga tempoh perkhidmatannya.

 

            Mahathir Mohamad telah berucap di UNGA lebih banyak kali daripada pemimpin dunia yang lain, kecuali agaknya Presiden Zimbabwe Robert Mugabe. Mereka kedua banyak persamaan yang lain. Peminat Mahathir yang sekarang amat tipis serta pencacai Anwar sibok menceritakan bahawa kononnya jumlah kerusi kosong di dalam dewan ketika Anwar berucap melebehi berbanding penampilan terakhir Mahathir pada 2019. Kritis Anwar lupa bahawa perwakilan PBB tidak berminat mendengar apa yang orang tua ingin menyampaikan tetapi hairan bagaimana seorang tua boleh bercakap berpanjangan tanpa memgunakan tandas! Mengenai kandungan, ucapan Mahathir adalah cerita lama sahaja, yakni menentang Barat dan bermain di galeri Dunia Ketiga.

 

            Tepukan pertama untuk Anwar muncul bila ia dengan bahasa yang jelas mengutuk pencerobohan Rusia ke atas Ukraine. Pengkritik Anwar di tanah air mengsifatkan itu sebagai membodek Amerika. Betul, kenyataan Anwar menggembirakan Barat, khususnya Amerika. Walau bagaimanapun, jika pencacai Anwar mendengar lebih lanjut lagi, beliau juga mengutuk pengilhakan Israel terhadap Palestin dan pengganasan terhadap rakyatnya. Itu mendapat tepukan yang lebih kuat. Amerika pasti tidak berpuas hati dengan itu.

 

            Saya setuju dengan anggapan Anwar menyokong Ukraine. Malaysia, seperti Ukraine, juga mempunyai jiran yang juga lebih besar dan kuat yang sudah pun mencerobohi negara kita. Hanya ketidakcekapan dan rasuah Sukarno yang mengakibatkan konfrontasi 1960-an gagal.

 

            Malaysia kini ada jiran yang lebih kuat lagi, iaitu Negeri China. Tetapi tidak seperti dengan Indonesia, sempadan kita dengan China bukan atas daratan tetapi di laut, yakni Laut China Selatan yang kini dipertikaikan. Sempadan air lebih sukar untuk ditakrifkan dan juga dipertahankan. Negeri China sekarang sibuk melenturkan kekuatan tentera lautnya dengan apa yang mereka sifatkan sebagai "Garisan Sembilan" (Nine-dash Line). Tuntutan mereka hanya tergantung atas peta kurun berkulat. Membuat tuntutan sedemikian adalah cara lama manusia, sejak sekurangnya maknusia boleh menulis. Ini bukan kali pertama peperangan akan dimulakan berdasarkan perbuatan sedemikian. Lihat Israel sekarang dengan Palestin.

 

            Anwar mendapat tepukan gemuruh apabila dia mengutuk pembakaran al-Quran di Sweden dan ketika dia menyuarakan penderitaan orang miskin. Membakar Qur’an ialah dengan terus terang sifat kebencian. Mengsembunyikannya di sebalik muka depan kebebasan bersuara hanyalah penyelewengan nilai-nilai murni kecerahan.

 

            Beliau sekali lagi menghuraikan pembakaran al-Quran dalam khutbah Jumaatnya di Pusat Kebudayaan Islam New York. Di sini sekali lagi kepandaian Anwar untuk membaca pendengarnya terpamer dengan jelas. Dia menceritakan bagaimana kerajaan Madani bertindak, dengan menterjemahkan Qur’an ke bahasa Scandinavia dan menedarkannya percuma. Itu tindakbalasan yang tidak disangka, yakni terbalik daripada fikiran biasa, bahkan seumpama menuang petrol (atau kertas) ke api. 

 

            Tetapi, sebagaimana yang di huraikan oleh Anwar dengan begitu fasih dalam khutbahnya, hanya ilmu dan kebijaksanaan atau hikmah yang boleh menatasi kejahatan dan kejahilan. Umat Islam mesti menunjukkan aspek keimanan yang agung ini dalam kehidupan kita seharian.

 

            Dalam karyanya Muhammad: Manusia dan Nabi, penulis Saudi Adil Salahi memetik nasihat yang diberikan oleh ayahnya. “… [M]encintai Nabi Muhammad hanya boleh ditunjukkan dengan mengikut ajarannya, bukan dengan menyanyikan pujian baginda.”

 

            Anwar hebat sebagai pemimpin dunia seperti yang kita lihat ketika dia berucap di UNGA, dan beberapa jam kemudian sebagai seorang rohaniah dengan khutbahnya. Dia mencontohi Nabi besar kita, s.a.w., dalam mendamaikan mualamat dan ibadat.

 

            Mari bersama berdua semoga Allah terus membimbing Anwar Ibrahim untuk memimpin Malaysia ke arah masa depan yang lebih cerah, aman, dan sejahtera. Amiin!

Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim's Eloquent UNGA Speech

 Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim’s Eloquent UNGA Speech

M. Bakri Musa

September 25, 2023

 

Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim’s eloquent speech on September 22, 2023 at the 78^th session of the Annual United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) was in a class of its own. In tone, style as well as content he struck all the right chords, addressing regional, world, and transnational issues as global warming as well as the disenfranchisement and marginalization of the poor.

 

            He began in formal Malay except for the traditional Islamic greetings before switching to English for his speech proper. His attire of Baju Melayu with samping and songkok in understated colors was simple yet elegant. The UNGA is not the place to display your colorful costume, exotic culture, or quaint language but to share with others your visions and aspirations for a better world. This, Anwar did brilliantly. His predecessors too have all addressed the UNGA but none matched Anwar’s superb performance.

 

            His immediate predecessor Ismail Sabri was parochial, more interested in playing local politics by delivering his speech in Malay. He may have won plaudits from language nationalists back home but alas few delegates kept their earphones on. Nobody wants to hear a translator’s voice. His predecessor Muhyiddin Yassin on the other hand would have been better off speaking in Malay and relying on the official translator.

 

            Najib Razak’s crisp English, from his British boarding school upbringing, made his presentations glossy but alas that could not compensate for the lack of substance. As for Abdullah Badawi, his speeches at UNGA and elsewhere were as forgettable as was his tenure.

 

            Mahathir Mohamad had addressed the UNGA more times than any world leader except perhaps Zimbabwe’s Mugabe. Both also share some other unsavory features. Mahathir’s dwindling fans as well as Anwar’s domestic detractors have made much on the purported number of empty seats in the hall when Anwar was speaking as compared to when Mahathir last appeared in 2019. They forget that those UN delegates then stayed less to hear what the old man had to say, more a voyeuristic curiosity on how a nonagenarian would perform without bathroom breaks! As for content, it was Mahathir’s usual and predictable carping against the West and his playing to the Third World gallery. 

 

            Anwar’s first applause came when he in clear unequivocal language condemned Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. His critics back home saw that as his sucking up to America. Yes, Anwar’s statement pleased the West, America in particular. However if his detractors had listened further, Anwar also condemned Israel’s annexation of Palestine and terrorizing the Palestinians. That drew even louder applause. You can bet that the Americans were not pleased with that.

 

            Anwar is correct to support Ukraine. Malaysia, like Ukraine, also has powerful neighbors and had indeed been invaded by one. Only Sukarno’s ineptness and corruption made the 1960s konfrontasi fail.

 

            Malaysia now has an even more powerful neighbor, China. Unlike Indonesia, our border with China is not terrestrial but maritime, in the now-contested South China Sea. As such it is much more difficult to define and defend. China is flexing her naval muscles with its so-called “Nine-dash Line” claim. This relying on moldy documents to exert territorial claim is as old as humankind, or at least written documents. It would not be the first time that wars would be started based on such purported deeds.

 

            Anwar drew enthusiastic applauses when he condemned the recent spate of Qur’an burning in Sweden, and when he voiced the plight of the poor. As for the former, hatred and intolerance are just that. Hiding behind the façade of freedom of expression is but a perversion of enlightened values. 

 

            Anwar reiterated the Swedish Qur’an burning incident later in a Friday khutba (sermon) at the Islamic Cultural Center of New York. Here again Anwar’s genius in reading his audience was on clear display. He related his Madani government’s response, translating the Qur’an into Scandinavian languages for free distribution. Counter intuitive, as with literally throwing fuel (or paper in this case) into the fire. However as Anwar so eloquently elaborated in his khutba, only knowledge (ilm) and wisdom (hikmah) could win over evil and ignorance.

 

            Anwar’s informal session with local Malaysian students was refreshingly candid. Together with their probing questions and Anwar’s substantive responses, that encounter brings home the value of sending Malaysians to great American colleges instead of the usual Creekville State universities or Third World institutions.

 

            In the epigraph to his biography of the Prophet, s.a.w., Muhammad:  Man and Prophet, the Saudi writer Adil Salahi quoted the advice his father gave him. “… [L]oving Prophet Muhammad could only be demonstrated by following his teachings, not by singing his praises.” In being eloquent both as a secular leader as he did in addressing the UNGA and a few hours later as a spiritual one with his khutba, Anwar emulates our great Prophet, s.a.w., in blending affairs mualamat (secular) with ibadat (spiritual).

 

            May Allah continue guiding Anwar Ibrahim to lead Malaysia to a better, peaceful and prosperous future. Ameen!

Cast From The Herd Excerpt #97: Will We Ever Meet Again?

 Cast From The Herd:  Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpt # 97:  Will We Ever Meet Again?

Soon it was the last day of school and I still had one paper to go, my favorite, Chemistry. The boys at my dorm were already busy packing, excited to go home for the long holidays. As I stood there watching them, I remembered their first day and the many months that we had shared together since. I was proud of them; their intelligence sparkled. I remembered comforting more than a few when they were homesick. I assured them that I too was, even though I left home at a much older age. 

            There were the twins Salleh and Sallim. It was difficult to tell them apart; hence they had more than their share of practical jokes. I remember comforting another boy, a product of a mixed marriage, who was obsessed that he did not look Malay enough. Then there was the boy forever teased for being my presumed favorite. The fact was he always scored tops in his class and thus merited my frequent recognition of him during Friday inspections. 

            I remember an aloof boy; he was smart and felt belittled if not downright disdainful of my silly little games of recognizing academic achievers. He did not wish to participate, deeming them below him. One day I received word that he had excelled in his test, and that Friday before dorm inspection I duly recognized him, making an extra fuss. He beamed and thereafter warmed up to me.

            Then there was the chirpy boy, sharp with his rebuttals. He was also from a mixed marriage. One day his father came to visit him. He could not speak any English and his Malay was the ‘bazaar’ variety, but he was so proud of his boy that he wanted to meet me, his son’s prefect. I praised his son, but the boy was uncomfortable in his father’s presence. Poor kid!

            My dorm also had its share of talented athletes. Rusli Yahya was so good that he made the school’s varsity (senior) rugby team after his first year, an unheard of achievement! 

            Soon I would have to say goodbye to these bright kids. They had been such a major part of my life during these past twelve months. I was their mentor, counselor, big brother, and, yes, role model, except that I was useless at sports. I kept thinking what my earlier classmates said at our farewell party at my old school in Kuala Pilah two years before:  Will we ever meet again? 

            I was grateful to have been made prefect and thus the opportunity to know these bright boys, as well as those promising sparks in the science stream of the Fourth and Fifth Forms. My younger brother Adzman would later join that Prep School Class of 1962 at Form Four. Through him I kept abreast of the achievements of these students. They were spectacular, and gave me hope for the future of Malay College. They changed my initial warped view of the institution. Now with these smart kids Malay College would never again have to depend on ‘outsiders’ like me to fill its empty Sixth Form slots. There will be none; instead the challenge would be to expand for more spaces. 

            Looking back, had Malay College continued on with its then new policy, that is, admittance strictly through merit and emphasis on STEM, the college, Malays, and Malaysia would have changed dramatically by today, and for the better. Instead, after a decade of spectacular successes, the now all-native leaders of MCKK decided in their collective wisdom that it was no longer necessary to emphasize STEM or English. Thus instead of becoming a feeder school for the leading universities of the world as MCKK’s peers elsewhere in the region are doing, Malay College today is but another nondescript residential school. Its students have to go elsewhere to matriculate. Even when it belatedly introduced the International Baccalaureate Program over a decade ago, even today it is still not the top choice for many bright young Malay boys. That spectacular success of my Prep School Class of 1962 remains but a splash-in-the-pan performance for MCKK, never to be repeated. What a tragedy!

            That night, my last in Kuala Kangsar, alone in my cubicle and now an empty dorm, I was weighed down with sadness. My two years at Malay College was coming to an end, and alas too fast. They were the best. I may have started on a sour note, but in the end I was grateful for all the experiences and opportunities that Malay College had afforded me. 

Next:  Excerpt # 98:  The Novice Teacher

Cast From the Herd Excerpt # 96 Anxiously Waiting For The Big Envelope

 Cast From The Herd:  Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpt # 96:  Anxiously Waiting For The Big Envelope

Back on campus a few weeks later as we were sitting for the important terminal examination, a major distraction cropped up. The big fat envelopes arrived for the lucky few. Hadi, my fellow prefect at Prep School, won a Colombo Plan scholarship for Veterinary Medicine in Australia, together with Abdul Rahman. Nik Zainal had his for Medicine at Monash, Australia. For all three, that was their first choice. 

            Atan had one for genetics, also in Australia. That was not his first choice; he wanted to be a doctor. In truth, had he been given the choice of medicine locally and genetics in Australia, he would have opted for the latter. The lure of going abroad was hard to resist even if it meant changing your career goals.

            Those who drew blanks were disappointed. Somehow I was not. I was afraid that their disappointment would affect their performance for the rest of the terminal examination. It was for that reason that I refused to be disappointed and concocted many excuses, like the best being last. It helped that Atan assured me that I would probably end up in Britain. There the academic year would not begin until September, unlike Australia where it was February; hence the early notifications. 

            Atan meant well. However, if there was one place I did not want to go, it would be Britain. My preference was Canada. Mr. Norton and I had earlier discussed American universities. At that time the newspaper carried the news of a Malay boy from Singapore who had been awarded a United Nations scholarship to pursue medicine in New York. That prompted me to explore American medical schools. I discovered that medicine there was a graduate program. While it would take only four years, you must first have an undergraduate degree, making it an eight-year program, as compared to the five or six locally and elsewhere in the British Commonwealth. Also, as American degrees were then (still is) not recognized in Malaysia, I ruled out that option. 

            Norton dismissed the long duration. I was still young, he assured me. As for Malaysia not recognizing American degrees, he winked and said not to worry as the world would. 

            Canada had a similar American-style liberal education but being in the British Commonwealth, Malaysia recognized Canadian credentials. Its premed program was also shorter. Mr. Brown had earlier sold me on Canada. So please God, do not send me to Britain; there was already a glut of Malaysians there. 

            At last my much-anticipated fat envelope arrived. I was Canada-bound, together with three others, under the Colombo Plan scholarship. I feigned disappointment in not being sent to Britain but in my heart I was jubilant. I thanked Allah for answering my prayers. 

            I met Mr. Norton later in the day. He winked at me and chuckled, “Look up Osman Nor when you are up there!” I never knew Osman as he was a few years ahead of me. Norton often mentioned him in class. “The sharpest mind ever to step foot at Malay College,” was his praise of Osman. 

Next Excerpt #97:  Will We Ever Meet Again?

Cast From the Herd Excerpt # 95: So You Want to be a Doctor

 Cast From The Herd:  Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia

M. Bakri Musa

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

When I returned from the break in the morning’s interview session, and following my grandfather’s advice, I sneaked a small twig into my right palm. Soon I was called in. There were four interviewers, including a stern-looking Indian lady. The chairman, I presumed, was an old Malay man with curly backswept hair and generously streaked with gray. He was still smacking his lips savoring the lingering sweet aftertaste of the teh tarik (sweetened tea with cream) he had during the break. They were all busy flipping through their files. I tried to maintain eye contact but had difficulty as they were all looking down. Soon the chairman cleared his throat and everyone stared at me. I looked at each one of them and silently recited my grandfather’s du’a. Then I unobtrusively snapped the twig in my palm, and with that I felt a sudden surge of confidence. 

            “Are you Mohammad Bakri Bin Musa?” intoned the chairman. 

            “Yes, sir!” That was it. No introduction, no good morning, no pleasantries to settle me down. Right to the point; good! 

            “What do you plan to take at university?”

            “I want to be a doctor, sir!”

            “I said, ‘What do you plan to take.’ Listen to the question.”

            “Oh, medicine, sir!” was my calm reply. Even I was surprised to have such composure despite the initial goof.

            “Why do you want to be a doctor?” he continued.

            I related how exciting life would be as a physician. Your days would not be predictable; on certain days you would be jubilant because you made the right diagnosis and helped someone, on other days less so. You might even be disappointed with your misdiagnosis or failed treatment. 

            “Very interesting,” he observed. “Unlike what we do here where every day is the same,” he laughed, and his fellow panelists smiled. “Do you have a doctor in your family?” 

            “No sir!”

            “Then how do you know these things?”

            I described the annual career days at our college. I remembered hearing one Dr. Khalid Sahan, an “old boy” who was then stationed at Kuala Kangsar, describing his typical day. 

            “You actually paid attention?” the chairman mocked me. 

            I was afraid he would ask about other doctors who had influenced me. I knew of no one else, but he did not. Then he passed me over to his fellow panelists. Just before that the severe-looking Indian lady removed a letter from her file. I recognized the letterhead crest. She seemed to approve of its content. There was a moment of silence as the others digested it, giving me an opportunity to read their facial expressions. 

            That must be the letter from Mr. Norton that my classmates were talking about earlier. I just hoped that the prefect who sneaked a look had read it right. 

            As the other panelists composed themselves, each began quizzing me. They must have asked inconsequential questions as I do not remember my replies. When they dismissed me, I left feeling confident. While I did not swagger out, nonetheless I felt like a brash young commander who had prevailed with minimal difficulty over formidable enemy territory. 

            Later at lunch we, my fellow college mates and I, were as usual going over our earlier battles, trading wartime stories. They were surprised that I was not asked specific questions on medicine. Ramli whispered his intuition, “Bakri, you got it!” 

            Looking back, I wonder what would have happened had the chairman extended his hand for a handshake. How on earth would I have explained the twig in my palm? 

Next:  Excerpt 96:  Anxiously Waiting For The Big Envelope

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!

Use Imam Nawawi's Forty Hadith To Sharpen Young Mins

 Use Imam Nawawi’s Forty Hadith To Sharpen Young Minds

M. Bakri Musa

 

Properly conducted, we all can learn from Imam Nawawi’s collection of forty (in actuality 42) hadith (sayings attributed to Prophet Muhammad, may peace and blessings be upon Him). The operative phrase is “properly conducted.” As for restricting it only to Muslims, well, as a believer I have learned much from reading about Socrates, an avowed atheist.

 

            The tragedy for Muslims is that the teaching of hadith at all (including graduate) levels is a one-way street, reminiscent of the Catholics’ catechism. Less education, more indoctrination; little learning, a whole lot of listening. Mufti Albakri’s recent 50-minute lecture on Nawawi’s first hadith (Actions be judged by intentions) was typical. He spent over 40 minutes reciting the hadith’s long chain of narrators as well as its various equally tedious iterations, all in their original Arabic. This was after his droning endless praise of the author. Albakri was less to educate, more to impress listeners with his prodigious memory, flawless Arabic, and (to him) mesmerizing oratory. There was not a word on the hadith’s relevance to everyday life or its connection with the Qur’an. It was all an endless recitation and regurgitation of factoids, no critical analysis. That would be blasphemy. Alas, this is the norm.

 

            Likewise with the many translations of Imam Nawawi’s book. The latest (2023, by Faisal Ahmad Shah) is so formulaic, like the translation of a book of recipes, with the same long mini biographies of the various narrators. No prompts for readers to think. Must all actions have intentions? What about unintended consequences? How sure are we of our intentions?

 

            The Ministry of Education’s proposed “study module” on Nawawi’s Forty Hadith would degenerate along similar mind-numbing patterns. What a shame as both hadith and Qur’an are great resources for exercises in critical thinking, quite apart from lessons and inspirations to lead a purposeful life.

 

            In my book Qur’an, Hadith, And Hikayat:  Exercises In Critical Thinking (2021) I chose a familiar hadith:  Seek knowledge even if you have to go to China. Zimbabwe’s Imam Ismail Menk discussed this particular hadith for over three hours to a packed audience in Kuala Lumpur many years ago. He dismissed the second part of the hadith (going to China) as not sahih (authentic) as the Prophet (pbuh) could not possibly have heard of China any more than he could Kuala Lumpur.

 

            Contrast Menk to one young Indonesian girl, Bina Izzatu Dini. She was intrigued by that hadith. After all, everything is made in China these days, from the sejadah (praying mat) to models of the Kaabah. So she decided to explore that hadith. Indeed the prophet, being a merchant, must have heard of China as the ancient Silk Route passed through the northern part of the Arabian Peninsula. The upshot of Bina’s curiosity was that her essay won her a scholarship to a Chinese university! I do not know what her intentions were in pursuing that hadith, but she was amply rewarded for that. And she did not have to wait till the Hereafter!

 

            I once attended as a guest the Masters of Islamic Studies seminar at the University of Malaya. I was attracted by the credentials of the lecturer, a PhD from a leading American university. That program was also popular with ambitious young Malay civil servants out to burnish their Islamic credentials, thus greasing their career paths. Halfway through his presentation, the esteemed professor said something ridiculous that prompted me to ask a question. Instead of addressing my query, he brushed me aside.

 

            My friend apologized on behalf of his professor. There was so much material to cover that he (the professor) did not have time to answer questions, was the excuse. Obviously the professor was not an educator; more a postman.

 

            Contrast that to the experience of retired Duke Professor of Islamic Studies, Bruce Lawrence. Though not a Muslim his course was popular with students from the Third World needing to fulfil their humanities prerequisites. He was astounded when one of his students who despite being a hafiz (one who had memorized the Qur’an) could not understand a word of it. In the ensuing discussion Lawrence learned much about the Pakistani education system, demonstrating the truism that teaching is the best way to learn.

 

            Malay teachers regard their students as bins to be filled with dogmas, akin to Paulo Freire’s bank account model. You get only what you put in, minus fees with the latter and what’s stuck at the bottom with the former. Why not heed the wisdom of Munshi Abdullah? He likened a child’s mind to a parang, to be sharpened. With a sharp parang you could hack your way out of a jungle. To a surgeon, a sharp knife is an instrument to cure cancer; to a thug, a killing kit. Differentiating the two is the Islam part of Islamic education.

 

            By all means, teach Imam Nawawi’s Forty Hadith to sharpen students’ critical faculties, not numb their minds. As for perspective as well as priority, including hadith in the school curriculum should be far below that of English and Chemistry. Instead, do it as an extracurricular activity.

Casr From The Herd Excerpt # 93: Annual Speech Day And Sports Meet

 Cast From The Herd:  Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpt # 93:  Annual Speech Day And Sports Meet

Prefects were much on display during premier school events like the Annual Speech Day and Sports Meet. You could also count on those occasions being graced by the sultans. That year’s Sports Day was of particular interest as the King would be in attendance, his first visit to his son on campus. Excitement was high, more so at Prep School. 

            That afternoon after lunch with everybody eager to leave for the function at Big School, the main part of the campus, I waited to make certain that everyone was gone. Then when I was sure of that, I sneaked back into my cubicle and read my National Geographic. I figured that with everyone eager to see and be seen with the sultans, no one would notice my absence. 

            It did not take me long to fall asleep, what with the unusual quietness. I must have had a long deep sleep for when I was awakened by the noise of the boys returning, it was already dusk. When I was certain that most had returned as judged by the noise level, I slipped out into the crowd to jointly enthuse with them on what a great day it had been. I was right; nobody had noticed my absence. 

            Or so I thought. Later in the quiet of the evening after “lights out” when all the kids had settled in their beds, Mat Gajah, my fellow Prep School prefect, tiptoed into my cubicle and in a hushed voice inquired, “Where were you this afternoon?” So he knew! I shrugged and kept quiet. “I don’t believe in this sultan shit either,” he said, “but I wouldn’t dare do what you did!” 

            He was incredulous that I would even consider let alone do what to him was clearly an act of contempt if not derhaka (treachery) towards our rajas. In Malay society, when the sultan is present, you stop everything and be ready to execute his every command. 

            The other important campus event was Speech Day, an academic recognition day combined with the school exhibition. We again anticipated our share of sultans attending. Yusof Sidek and I had partnered to dissect a live rabbit (appropriately anesthetized of course), complete with open chest and a beating heart. The objective was to demonstrate the heart’s action to various drugs. In vivo dissection to us biology students was routine; not so for others. 

            I manned the exhibit first so that when it was time for the sultans’ visit later in the day I could say to Yusof, “It’s your turn.” What I did not anticipate was that he too was not enamored with royalty. So when I turned to him, he protested and insisted that he was but my sidekick and took off, leaving me sweating. Meanwhile the royal entourage was fast heading towards my bench. In desperation I found a classmate who was not doing anything. I begged him to take over on the pretext that I had to go to the bathroom. Eager to give a performance for the sultans, he readily agreed, and I gave him the fastest science lab demonstration in the history of the school! 

            With that I bolted out, a trapped tiger released from its cage. By then I was truly desperate for the bathroom, the anxiety having taken its toll. I savored the double relief of my now-empty bladder as well as being spared the dilemma of how to address Their Highnesses. Was it sembah (genuflect) first and then greet, or was it the other way around? 

            When I returned, my classmate was surrounded by those squealing princesses. He was enjoying himself, telling those giggling girls the various anatomical parts of the rabbit. Thank God it was a female specimen! Otherwise there would have been bashful giggling and blushing as the girls were shown the various anatomy. 

            As things had settled down, I left to look for my absconded partner. I told him that I had taken care of the matter and that it was now his turn to clean up. Yusof readily did his part. 

Next:  Excerpt # 94:  The Twig