Monday, January 31, 2011
Interlok
All that fuss about Interlok - there is even a move to have a government committee amend the fiction - can anything be more silly and dangerous? Just imagine what that will lead to! Those involved must surely be aware that they are smearing themselves with the fascist paint and being exposed as pro-ISA If you are not happy with Interlok write a review and publish it in you blog!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Rashid Maidin Memoirs
12 To Tanjung Bruas 1948-52
After a year and a half of detention I was transferred to a detention camp at Tanjung Bruas, Malacca. Historic Malacca, where colonisation began and where Dr Burhanuddin and I began the road show for merdeka. It was the place that inspired the propitious words of Dr Burhanuddin Al-Helmy, “From the ruins of Malacca will rise the spirit of merdeka.” For me, taken from place to place, handcuffed, chained, fenced in by walls and barbed wire the spirit of merdeka never died.
The detention camp was several times bigger than Pulau Jerejak’s. It housed several thousand detainees held in blocks each with 200 to 300 persons. The blocks were separated by barbed wire standing about 12 feet high. Ahmad Boestamam and Pak Sako (IshakHaji Muhammad) were here too. I often met them and talked to them when we chanced to meet.
I knew Ahmad Boestamam well from the time of PKMM in 1945. When PKMM moved toKL we went too and lived in the same building. Ahmad Boestamam loved chit chatting. Sometimes the talk did seem to mean anything in particular and was rambling. I remembered that before the emergency he had proposed to me that API take up armed struggle. Boestamam’s thinking was like ours, that merdeka must be achieved by armed struggle. He, Abdullah CD and Dr Burhanuddin had discussed the setting up of armed forces to fight the British.
At Tanjung Bruaas we met again but we were not in the same block. I was in Block K with the Cik Muda from Terengganu, Teacher Hamid of Kelantan and Ustaz Yahya Nasim of Selangor and members of the PKMM and the MCP. I was elected the president of the block.
Living conditions were worse than in Pulau Jerejak. We were angry at being forced to carry our waste pots and to clean latrines. So after only one week we formed a committee to organise a hunger strike, demanding that we should not be made to dispose of w.c. waste, that we be allowed to buy necessaries from outside, receive things from our families and allowed to have a place of worship, After three weeks, the authorities were forced to give in to our demands. We also won the right to play badminton at night and to read the Straits Times but not the Utusan Melayu, which they considered a radical paper.
If we didn’t make use of so much free time during detention with some activity we’d be bored. So we ran classes in English as there were many teachers who were good at the language. I also joined these classes to improve my English and also to help those whose level was lower than mine. Many left the camp able to speak an write English.
Many things were happening in the country during my three years at this camp. Although we were cut off from the Party we learnt from talks with the guards and the police that the guerilla war against the colonialists had started and was being actively pursued. Many clashes had occurred here and there and the British did not have the upper hand. The 10th Regiment of the Malayan National Liberation Army was a group of which I attended the foundation classes was developing successfully The news strengthened our will and fighting spirit.
The guerrilla war was costly for the colonialists and resulted in a slide i the economy. They used cheap labour to build police stations and barracks, guard stations and such like to deal with the freedom revolution launched by the MCP’s Malaya National Liberation Army. Even prisoners were mobilised. The British selected 12 detainees to build a police station at Caruk Batang, Jasin, Malacca. I was selected because I knew the officers there well. My friends did not agree with my being selected. They thought I thought only of myself and the pay given. I could not explain and had to keep my plans secret.
I had been in detention for five an a half years: six months in Taiping, two years in Pulau Jerejak and three years in Tanjung Bruas. I remembered the time when I was taken out of camp and was questioned by an English special branch officer who was accompanied by a son of the Sultan of Selangor. Many questions were asked and I answered them one by one. I took the opportunity to ask why I was being held for so long and what specific evidence of my crimes did they have. The reply was that I was accused of being a communist adding, looking at the file before him, that I had spoken openly about it. I told him that as long as there are British colonialists here we would fight. There was nothing wrong about that. Many priests, lebai, religious teachers, and school teachers had been called communist and detained. Actually all wanted the British out. Nothing wrong there.
The man said to me, "How long more do you think you will be detained?" I said I wasn't the one doing the detaining. He said it would be years. I said it would not be my choice. They could what they liked, we would wait and see.
So it was natural that I laways thought of ways of escaping from the grip of the colonial authorities. I did not want to die in detention, it would be an abomination, a waste of my life and efforts , a death of no significance. It was better a death being shot in a clash against the enemy of the country an people - the British colonialists. These thoughts haunted me all the time.
But I had to be restrained and rational unlike the young man from Pahang who jumped the barbed fence one night and ran to the sea. He was captured. It seems he was in a sort of religious frenzy. He was lucky the camp guards, all Malay, usually did not shoot at the prisoners who were Malay like them.
When the chance came to work outside the camp the thought flashed in my mind that here was a chance to get my freedom. So I offered to do the work.
We, the selected twelve were paid one dollar a day. At the beginning we were taken to and from work escorted by policemen. This was a chance to talk to Ahmad Boestamam about the news. He asked me why I was working outside and I told him that he should know. I asked him to work with me so we could escape together. He rejected my proposal and gave me this advice. General Templer (the Governor) was a clever and cunning man. I had to be careful.
I had to think more thoroughly about my planned escape. If General Templer was clever he would not have chosen me to work outside the camp a known communist, not an ordinary one but a high ranking cadre. But deep inside me was the feeling that this could be a trap. I thought carefully over Bustamam’s advice. What if they set a bait to tempt me to escape and I am shot while taking the bait. The confusing possibilities kept me awake nights. But the more I thought about it a trap seemed unlikely.
I made up my mind to escape. I went to see Ahmad Boestamam again. He was a brave man with whom I could share my secrets. I also felt that it was not right not to leave a message. Someone should know of my plans so that if it succeeded, and the news spread, the other detainees would be inspired.
Having spoken to him I said goodbye. He was in tears when he wished me every success. I knew then that he supported me in this venture. I trust Allah will bless his soul.
After a week we were told to live at the police barracks which were surrounded by barbed wire. We were guarded by 4 policemen led by a sergeant known as Pak Mi. He was not happy with the British because he was recalled although he had retired. Besides he had heard me speak at Malacca before the emergency was declared. He became a good friend of mine.
At the midday meal we ate with the police. Pal Mi would bring the UtusanMelayu for me to read. I read the paper aloud so that he too could hear the news. Pak Mi once told me that his job was ro look after kerbau balau meaning the white men not the detainees.
Luckily I had become a skilled labourer before the Japanese facists came, know something about electricity, construction plans and other things. SO much so tha many of the building matters came to me. I was made head of the workers and plans were submitted to me. The engineer was Indian. Sometimes he came sometimes ot. It was same with the white policemen. Without their presence things relaxed and we ate and drank with the policemen, read the newspapers and talked.
After a year and a half of detention I was transferred to a detention camp at Tanjung Bruas, Malacca. Historic Malacca, where colonisation began and where Dr Burhanuddin and I began the road show for merdeka. It was the place that inspired the propitious words of Dr Burhanuddin Al-Helmy, “From the ruins of Malacca will rise the spirit of merdeka.” For me, taken from place to place, handcuffed, chained, fenced in by walls and barbed wire the spirit of merdeka never died.
The detention camp was several times bigger than Pulau Jerejak’s. It housed several thousand detainees held in blocks each with 200 to 300 persons. The blocks were separated by barbed wire standing about 12 feet high. Ahmad Boestamam and Pak Sako (IshakHaji Muhammad) were here too. I often met them and talked to them when we chanced to meet.
I knew Ahmad Boestamam well from the time of PKMM in 1945. When PKMM moved toKL we went too and lived in the same building. Ahmad Boestamam loved chit chatting. Sometimes the talk did seem to mean anything in particular and was rambling. I remembered that before the emergency he had proposed to me that API take up armed struggle. Boestamam’s thinking was like ours, that merdeka must be achieved by armed struggle. He, Abdullah CD and Dr Burhanuddin had discussed the setting up of armed forces to fight the British.
At Tanjung Bruaas we met again but we were not in the same block. I was in Block K with the Cik Muda from Terengganu, Teacher Hamid of Kelantan and Ustaz Yahya Nasim of Selangor and members of the PKMM and the MCP. I was elected the president of the block.
Living conditions were worse than in Pulau Jerejak. We were angry at being forced to carry our waste pots and to clean latrines. So after only one week we formed a committee to organise a hunger strike, demanding that we should not be made to dispose of w.c. waste, that we be allowed to buy necessaries from outside, receive things from our families and allowed to have a place of worship, After three weeks, the authorities were forced to give in to our demands. We also won the right to play badminton at night and to read the Straits Times but not the Utusan Melayu, which they considered a radical paper.
If we didn’t make use of so much free time during detention with some activity we’d be bored. So we ran classes in English as there were many teachers who were good at the language. I also joined these classes to improve my English and also to help those whose level was lower than mine. Many left the camp able to speak an write English.
Many things were happening in the country during my three years at this camp. Although we were cut off from the Party we learnt from talks with the guards and the police that the guerilla war against the colonialists had started and was being actively pursued. Many clashes had occurred here and there and the British did not have the upper hand. The 10th Regiment of the Malayan National Liberation Army was a group of which I attended the foundation classes was developing successfully The news strengthened our will and fighting spirit.
The guerrilla war was costly for the colonialists and resulted in a slide i the economy. They used cheap labour to build police stations and barracks, guard stations and such like to deal with the freedom revolution launched by the MCP’s Malaya National Liberation Army. Even prisoners were mobilised. The British selected 12 detainees to build a police station at Caruk Batang, Jasin, Malacca. I was selected because I knew the officers there well. My friends did not agree with my being selected. They thought I thought only of myself and the pay given. I could not explain and had to keep my plans secret.
I had been in detention for five an a half years: six months in Taiping, two years in Pulau Jerejak and three years in Tanjung Bruas. I remembered the time when I was taken out of camp and was questioned by an English special branch officer who was accompanied by a son of the Sultan of Selangor. Many questions were asked and I answered them one by one. I took the opportunity to ask why I was being held for so long and what specific evidence of my crimes did they have. The reply was that I was accused of being a communist adding, looking at the file before him, that I had spoken openly about it. I told him that as long as there are British colonialists here we would fight. There was nothing wrong about that. Many priests, lebai, religious teachers, and school teachers had been called communist and detained. Actually all wanted the British out. Nothing wrong there.
The man said to me, "How long more do you think you will be detained?" I said I wasn't the one doing the detaining. He said it would be years. I said it would not be my choice. They could what they liked, we would wait and see.
So it was natural that I laways thought of ways of escaping from the grip of the colonial authorities. I did not want to die in detention, it would be an abomination, a waste of my life and efforts , a death of no significance. It was better a death being shot in a clash against the enemy of the country an people - the British colonialists. These thoughts haunted me all the time.
But I had to be restrained and rational unlike the young man from Pahang who jumped the barbed fence one night and ran to the sea. He was captured. It seems he was in a sort of religious frenzy. He was lucky the camp guards, all Malay, usually did not shoot at the prisoners who were Malay like them.
When the chance came to work outside the camp the thought flashed in my mind that here was a chance to get my freedom. So I offered to do the work.
We, the selected twelve were paid one dollar a day. At the beginning we were taken to and from work escorted by policemen. This was a chance to talk to Ahmad Boestamam about the news. He asked me why I was working outside and I told him that he should know. I asked him to work with me so we could escape together. He rejected my proposal and gave me this advice. General Templer (the Governor) was a clever and cunning man. I had to be careful.
I had to think more thoroughly about my planned escape. If General Templer was clever he would not have chosen me to work outside the camp a known communist, not an ordinary one but a high ranking cadre. But deep inside me was the feeling that this could be a trap. I thought carefully over Bustamam’s advice. What if they set a bait to tempt me to escape and I am shot while taking the bait. The confusing possibilities kept me awake nights. But the more I thought about it a trap seemed unlikely.
I made up my mind to escape. I went to see Ahmad Boestamam again. He was a brave man with whom I could share my secrets. I also felt that it was not right not to leave a message. Someone should know of my plans so that if it succeeded, and the news spread, the other detainees would be inspired.
Having spoken to him I said goodbye. He was in tears when he wished me every success. I knew then that he supported me in this venture. I trust Allah will bless his soul.
After a week we were told to live at the police barracks which were surrounded by barbed wire. We were guarded by 4 policemen led by a sergeant known as Pak Mi. He was not happy with the British because he was recalled although he had retired. Besides he had heard me speak at Malacca before the emergency was declared. He became a good friend of mine.
At the midday meal we ate with the police. Pal Mi would bring the UtusanMelayu for me to read. I read the paper aloud so that he too could hear the news. Pak Mi once told me that his job was ro look after kerbau balau meaning the white men not the detainees.
Luckily I had become a skilled labourer before the Japanese facists came, know something about electricity, construction plans and other things. SO much so tha many of the building matters came to me. I was made head of the workers and plans were submitted to me. The engineer was Indian. Sometimes he came sometimes ot. It was same with the white policemen. Without their presence things relaxed and we ate and drank with the policemen, read the newspapers and talked.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Weld Quay
We have previously introduced the eating place with a tree at Weld Quay. If you go along the road away from the ferry you will come across Tan Jetty. It offers plenty of parking space, nice tables set by the sea and is a very pleasant place where you can enjoy a beer and at the same time look across the dark sea to lighted up Wellesley.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Brutality
Thursday January 20, 2011
Cruel, inhuman and degrading punishment
DIPLOMATICALLY SPEAKING
By DENNIS IGNATIUS
Last month, Amnesty International published a report drawing attention to the fact that judicial caning in Malaysia has reached epidemic proportions. Since 2002, when the Immigration Act was amended to include corporal punishment, nearly 48,000 prisoners have been whipped in Malaysia.
It is a shocking reminder of the cruel, inhuman and degrading way we treat prisoners, particularly refugees and illegal migrants.
Caning or whipping is a horrendous form of punishment. Maximum force, with the cane travelling at speeds of up to 160kph, is applied. The whiplash of the cane (usually a piece of rattan about 1.09m long and 1.25cm thick that is soaked in water) literally takes the skin off the buttocks and then pounds the flesh into pulp. Skin disintegrates. Blood flows copiously.
The pain is so severe that victims often lose consciousness. And when they do, they are quickly revived by doctors so that punishment can continue.
How doctors can participate in this kind of abuse is beyond understanding.
Whipping leaves deep scars that take months to heal. It also leaves deep emotional and psychological wounds that mark the victims for the rest of their lives.
In 2007, a six-minute video of a drug trafficker being caned in Malaysia found its way onto the Internet. Those who think that caning is an acceptable form of punishment should take the trouble to view it.
I personally found it too disturbing to watch. It brought back memories of my late father’s treatment at the hands of the Kempeitai – the military police of the Imperial Japanese Army during the war years. My father was whipped so badly that he carried the scars on his back and buttocks to his grave some fifty years later.
That such horrific abuse is still being visited upon people today is mind-boggling.
And all this despite the fact that there is no evidence that caning is an effective deterrence. It simply panders to our baser instincts to inflict pain upon those who transgress.
Furthermore, such forms of corporal punishment are clearly against the 1948 Universal Declara-tion of Human Rights which states that, “No one shall be subject to torture or to cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment or punishment”.
Malaysia has always been an ardent supporter of the UN and proudly sits on its Human Rights Council, yet we violate one of its most cherished principles. We lose the moral authority to speak on human rights issues when we ourselves don’t cherish and uphold them.
Some years ago, Malaysians joined the global outrage over the treatment of prisoners at Abu Ghraib. America was rightly condemned for behaving in such a cruel and callous manner. What does it now say of us when we are silent about something far worse that is taking place in our prisons on an almost daily basis?
What is even more egregious is that we visit such horrific punishment upon hapless refugees and illegal migrants as well.
Refugees from Myanmar, for example, flee in fear and desperation from well documented abuse, torture and death in their own land only to be further abused in Malaysia.
According to Amnesty International, more than 6,000 refugees are caned, up to 24 times each, every year!
This is morally reprehensible and a great blight upon our nation’s honour.
Of course, we are not the only ones to permit judicial caning. It is widely practised in Singapore and Brunei as well, courtesy of our common British colonial heritage. Caning is now increasingly considered a cheaper alternative to jailing offenders. Illegal migrants are whipped and then deported.
Not surprisingly, many countries seem to ignore this appalling abuse of their own citizens in Malaysia, Singapore and Brunei. If Australian, British or American citizens were similarly treated, there would be an international uproar, which explains why such punishment is rarely inflicted on them.
Our poorer Asian neighbours, on the other hand, remain silent largely because they fear antagonising us and jeopardising an important source of foreign income in the remittances that these migrant workers send home each month. For countries like the Philippines, Bangladesh and Nepal, for example, such remittances make a significant contribution to their economy.
Perhaps it is also because Asian governments tend to place a lower premium on human dignity.
Whatever the reason, shame on them for staying silent while their citizens are so harshly treated abroad.
Of course, Myanmar’s military rulers are not going to lose any sleep over the treatment of Karen, Kachin or Rohingya people abroad, but surely we become complicit in the injustice wreaked upon these people if they end up being abused and punished in Malaysia as well.
When asked about the leaked caning video in 2007, the Deputy Home Minister at the time said it was “no big deal”.
But it is a big deal when our nation inflicts such horrendous suffering upon prisoners, upon migrant workers and upon refugees. It tarnishes our image and invites international scorn.
And it is a big deal because we are better than that.
It’s time we end this barbaric form of punishment. Certainly, we should immediately stop the caning of refugees and illegal migrants.
Datuk Dennis Ignatius is a 36-year veteran of the Malaysian foreign service. He served in London, Beijing and Washington and was ambassador to Chile and Argentina. He retired as High Commissioner to Canada in July 2008.
Cruel, inhuman and degrading punishment
DIPLOMATICALLY SPEAKING
By DENNIS IGNATIUS
Last month, Amnesty International published a report drawing attention to the fact that judicial caning in Malaysia has reached epidemic proportions. Since 2002, when the Immigration Act was amended to include corporal punishment, nearly 48,000 prisoners have been whipped in Malaysia.
It is a shocking reminder of the cruel, inhuman and degrading way we treat prisoners, particularly refugees and illegal migrants.
Caning or whipping is a horrendous form of punishment. Maximum force, with the cane travelling at speeds of up to 160kph, is applied. The whiplash of the cane (usually a piece of rattan about 1.09m long and 1.25cm thick that is soaked in water) literally takes the skin off the buttocks and then pounds the flesh into pulp. Skin disintegrates. Blood flows copiously.
The pain is so severe that victims often lose consciousness. And when they do, they are quickly revived by doctors so that punishment can continue.
How doctors can participate in this kind of abuse is beyond understanding.
Whipping leaves deep scars that take months to heal. It also leaves deep emotional and psychological wounds that mark the victims for the rest of their lives.
In 2007, a six-minute video of a drug trafficker being caned in Malaysia found its way onto the Internet. Those who think that caning is an acceptable form of punishment should take the trouble to view it.
I personally found it too disturbing to watch. It brought back memories of my late father’s treatment at the hands of the Kempeitai – the military police of the Imperial Japanese Army during the war years. My father was whipped so badly that he carried the scars on his back and buttocks to his grave some fifty years later.
That such horrific abuse is still being visited upon people today is mind-boggling.
And all this despite the fact that there is no evidence that caning is an effective deterrence. It simply panders to our baser instincts to inflict pain upon those who transgress.
Furthermore, such forms of corporal punishment are clearly against the 1948 Universal Declara-tion of Human Rights which states that, “No one shall be subject to torture or to cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment or punishment”.
Malaysia has always been an ardent supporter of the UN and proudly sits on its Human Rights Council, yet we violate one of its most cherished principles. We lose the moral authority to speak on human rights issues when we ourselves don’t cherish and uphold them.
Some years ago, Malaysians joined the global outrage over the treatment of prisoners at Abu Ghraib. America was rightly condemned for behaving in such a cruel and callous manner. What does it now say of us when we are silent about something far worse that is taking place in our prisons on an almost daily basis?
What is even more egregious is that we visit such horrific punishment upon hapless refugees and illegal migrants as well.
Refugees from Myanmar, for example, flee in fear and desperation from well documented abuse, torture and death in their own land only to be further abused in Malaysia.
According to Amnesty International, more than 6,000 refugees are caned, up to 24 times each, every year!
This is morally reprehensible and a great blight upon our nation’s honour.
Of course, we are not the only ones to permit judicial caning. It is widely practised in Singapore and Brunei as well, courtesy of our common British colonial heritage. Caning is now increasingly considered a cheaper alternative to jailing offenders. Illegal migrants are whipped and then deported.
Not surprisingly, many countries seem to ignore this appalling abuse of their own citizens in Malaysia, Singapore and Brunei. If Australian, British or American citizens were similarly treated, there would be an international uproar, which explains why such punishment is rarely inflicted on them.
Our poorer Asian neighbours, on the other hand, remain silent largely because they fear antagonising us and jeopardising an important source of foreign income in the remittances that these migrant workers send home each month. For countries like the Philippines, Bangladesh and Nepal, for example, such remittances make a significant contribution to their economy.
Perhaps it is also because Asian governments tend to place a lower premium on human dignity.
Whatever the reason, shame on them for staying silent while their citizens are so harshly treated abroad.
Of course, Myanmar’s military rulers are not going to lose any sleep over the treatment of Karen, Kachin or Rohingya people abroad, but surely we become complicit in the injustice wreaked upon these people if they end up being abused and punished in Malaysia as well.
When asked about the leaked caning video in 2007, the Deputy Home Minister at the time said it was “no big deal”.
But it is a big deal when our nation inflicts such horrendous suffering upon prisoners, upon migrant workers and upon refugees. It tarnishes our image and invites international scorn.
And it is a big deal because we are better than that.
It’s time we end this barbaric form of punishment. Certainly, we should immediately stop the caning of refugees and illegal migrants.
Datuk Dennis Ignatius is a 36-year veteran of the Malaysian foreign service. He served in London, Beijing and Washington and was ambassador to Chile and Argentina. He retired as High Commissioner to Canada in July 2008.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Rashid Maidin memoirs
11 In detention
The proclamation of the Emergency was towards the end of June 1948. I had not imagined that the proclamation would be so soon nor how mercilessly it would be carried out. My wife who was ill then thought something unexpected would happen to me.
A Malay intelligence man appeared with a summons for me to attend at the police station. I told my wife and three kids about this and kissed them goodbye with an assurance that I would be back the next day. I went down the stairs followed by the tears of my children. My wife hid her tears. That was the last time we were together.
I was detained as a communist and was first locked up in Telok Anson (now called Telok Intan), then in Taiping prison. I was handcuffed together with a young Chinese and put on the train. I bumped into Aminudin Baki when he was returning to Chemor after schooling in Singapore. He seemed uneasy. "Brother Rashid arrested?” he asked, shaking his head followed by “Brother don’t worry, be firm and don’t waver.” I replied, “I will not waver.”
Before we parted he gave me an English magazine he was reading and one dollar. I refused to accept them but he said they might become useful.
Aminudin was then under the influence of the PKMM and API. He used to come to see me and Abdullah CD at the office of the MCP at Ipoh. He had asked us to help him to study in Indonesia but then the Indonesians were fighting the Dutch and he was forced instead to go to Singapore. He later became chief adviser on education in the Federation.
After three nights in the lock-up, Taiping, I was sent to prison. I wore my own clothes but had to eat prison food which consisted of rice mixed either with tapioca or sweet potato and served with kangkong. A piece of fish was added once a week. One bowl a meal, and no second helping. In the mornings it was rice broth with ground paddy husks with a bit of salt. It was boring, nauseating, but like it or not, we had no choice but to lump it.
Six months after 50 more prisoners joined us. Among them Ustaz Abu Bakar Al- Baqir, teachers Sabrun and Sarip and Osman Bakar of Perak, teacher Mat Din of Kedah. Others came from Pahang,and Johore, members of the PKMM, PETA, BTM, trade unions and other organisations. Escorted to the detention camp at Pulau Jerejak were Malays, Chinese and Indians. In our group the Malays and Chinese were more or less the same in number. Most of the young were in their teens or early twenties. We were in chains during the journey tied up in groups of ten to twelve, closely guarded by Malay policemen led by English superintendents. We walked, dragging our chains watched by the public, then boarded a ferry at Butterworth forPulau Jerejak.
What was strange was that we were not questioned. Only once did a special branch policeman from Ipoh see me and that was to identify me as Rashid bin Maidin. Perhaps the colonialists were too busy making the arrests; it was known that 5000 were detained in one night after which the arrests continued.
At Pulau Jerejak there were at that time 500 prisoners made up of various races and placed in 7 to 8 sheds large enough to hold about 100 persons. The food was the same as we had in Taiping jail but we cooked our own food. To improve things we set up a committee to organise a hunger strike to win the right to buy from outside and receive things from our relatives. The committee was made up of all communities; the Malays were myself and Osman Bakar, a member of the PKMM from Tanjong Rambutan.
The camp officers were probably shamed by our action. They threatened us by saying refusal to eat was an offence. We replied that we should be able to do what we asked for. After five days they agreed to our demands; we were allowed to buy from the canteen once a week and to receive parcels from outside. I had little patience during the negotiations with the White officers and argued with them. So they abused me saying I did not respect them and was rude.
The proclamation of the Emergency was towards the end of June 1948. I had not imagined that the proclamation would be so soon nor how mercilessly it would be carried out. My wife who was ill then thought something unexpected would happen to me.
A Malay intelligence man appeared with a summons for me to attend at the police station. I told my wife and three kids about this and kissed them goodbye with an assurance that I would be back the next day. I went down the stairs followed by the tears of my children. My wife hid her tears. That was the last time we were together.
I was detained as a communist and was first locked up in Telok Anson (now called Telok Intan), then in Taiping prison. I was handcuffed together with a young Chinese and put on the train. I bumped into Aminudin Baki when he was returning to Chemor after schooling in Singapore. He seemed uneasy. "Brother Rashid arrested?” he asked, shaking his head followed by “Brother don’t worry, be firm and don’t waver.” I replied, “I will not waver.”
Before we parted he gave me an English magazine he was reading and one dollar. I refused to accept them but he said they might become useful.
Aminudin was then under the influence of the PKMM and API. He used to come to see me and Abdullah CD at the office of the MCP at Ipoh. He had asked us to help him to study in Indonesia but then the Indonesians were fighting the Dutch and he was forced instead to go to Singapore. He later became chief adviser on education in the Federation.
After three nights in the lock-up, Taiping, I was sent to prison. I wore my own clothes but had to eat prison food which consisted of rice mixed either with tapioca or sweet potato and served with kangkong. A piece of fish was added once a week. One bowl a meal, and no second helping. In the mornings it was rice broth with ground paddy husks with a bit of salt. It was boring, nauseating, but like it or not, we had no choice but to lump it.
Six months after 50 more prisoners joined us. Among them Ustaz Abu Bakar Al- Baqir, teachers Sabrun and Sarip and Osman Bakar of Perak, teacher Mat Din of Kedah. Others came from Pahang,and Johore, members of the PKMM, PETA, BTM, trade unions and other organisations. Escorted to the detention camp at Pulau Jerejak were Malays, Chinese and Indians. In our group the Malays and Chinese were more or less the same in number. Most of the young were in their teens or early twenties. We were in chains during the journey tied up in groups of ten to twelve, closely guarded by Malay policemen led by English superintendents. We walked, dragging our chains watched by the public, then boarded a ferry at Butterworth forPulau Jerejak.
What was strange was that we were not questioned. Only once did a special branch policeman from Ipoh see me and that was to identify me as Rashid bin Maidin. Perhaps the colonialists were too busy making the arrests; it was known that 5000 were detained in one night after which the arrests continued.
At Pulau Jerejak there were at that time 500 prisoners made up of various races and placed in 7 to 8 sheds large enough to hold about 100 persons. The food was the same as we had in Taiping jail but we cooked our own food. To improve things we set up a committee to organise a hunger strike to win the right to buy from outside and receive things from our relatives. The committee was made up of all communities; the Malays were myself and Osman Bakar, a member of the PKMM from Tanjong Rambutan.
The camp officers were probably shamed by our action. They threatened us by saying refusal to eat was an offence. We replied that we should be able to do what we asked for. After five days they agreed to our demands; we were allowed to buy from the canteen once a week and to receive parcels from outside. I had little patience during the negotiations with the White officers and argued with them. So they abused me saying I did not respect them and was rude.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Teoh Beng Hock
The coroner did not surprise when he found that Teoh Beng Hock's death (he died while questioned by police) was neither from suicide or homicide. throws light on our system of justice does it not? Ghosts must be lurking everywhere
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Trams
Auckland regretting the "terrible mistake" of 1956 in removing its trams has brought them back. Penang should do what Aukland has done. We all miss our trams
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