Skip to main content

Pak Mat Beca

I started school in 1971. I went to Sekolah Ismail (Dua), as far as I am concerned the only primary school in the whole universe and every kid must go there or the government will put their parents away forever.

The "Dua" or Two (2), does not mean there were two Sekolah Ismails. There was only one, except that there were two sessions, morning and afternoon. When I started in standard one, I was in the morning session. Apparently, somehow, the two Ismails alternate, and I really can't recall ever having to go to school in the afternoon.

Every morning, my cousin, the late Hashimah Hashim (Allah bless her soul), and I would wait for Pak Mat to pick us up in his beca, his trishaw. And, until I changed school in 1976 (that's another story to tell), Pak Mat and his beca would take me to school every school day. I know of no other way to go to school and I did not really appreciate the distance that Pak Mat had to cycle to pick us up and send us to our respective schools, which was practically on the opposite sides of Muar town (Shimah went to Sultan Abu Bakar or popularly know to Muarians as SAB, an all girls school; while Ismail school was an all boys school).

Nor did I ever knew how much he earned ferrying us, and (I assumed) other children to and from school. I never knew of his life besides toiling morning, noon and until late afternoon, bent over his trusty trishaw, fighting headwinds caught by the green canvass collapsible roofs over our heads, braving torrential rain and searing afternoon heat, to ensure we arrive safely at school and back home again. 

I never ever found out whether he was married, how many children he had, how old are they, which school did they go to.... And, how do they go to school?

Even well after I graduated from college, I am sure I saw Pak Mat and his beca along the route between Ismail School and SAB.

And the saddest thing of all, I don't even know his real name.

It is one of life's ironies I guess, that a person whom has such a contribution in shaping our futures, remains in total anonymity. 

I am sure he probably has left this earth by now.... I think will dedicate a prayer for him today.

Alfatehah.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A letter from my mother

Today, on the first day of Ramadhan in the 52nd year of my life, while I was rummaging through some old stuff, I came across a letter written to me by my mother, folded and enveloped into a prescription drug package. My mother taught herself to write in Rumi, so some words are quite difficult to figure out. She was probably more comfortable writing in Jawi, but she knew her son is useless at reading it. The letter was not dated, but I would say it was written circa 1985, the year that I dropped out of UTM. The letter was an angry letter, as angry as my dearest mother would be. I cannot remember the occasion that warranted such letter, but I think I must have said something that hurt her. She wrote that I should have told her or father (unlikely) or my brothers and sisters that I am having difficulties in my studies. She wrote that I have ostracized myself from my family, and she understood that I did this because I do not want to be any more a burden to my parents and my sibli...
1 comment
Read more

A Marriage

I’ve always shunned the company of humans Yet, there’s a basic need for procreation So I looked and believe I’ve found a woman Just perfect to bear my next generation A decade have passed and seven years From us have sprung a brood of four Many a happy times and many a tears At times I think we should’ve had more Then, there were times when my eyes wander Lusting after distractions, in one form or another To temptations of the flesh I wish to surrender To turn a deaf ear to my conscience’s whispers But, to hurt these people, I don’t fancy I can never hurt my children and wife Thus, my amoral deeds remain a fantasy Maybe I can indulge on it in my after life I love my family don’t get me wrong O, how they’ve grown, my little ones And, I pray this marriage will last my life long But, I swear I’ll not attempt marriage more than once...
2 comments
Read more

Looking for Sympathy

It's one of life's ironies, I suppose. We keep declaring to people that we are not looking or sympathies. Because, we.. rather... I am a proud person and sympathies makes me look pathetic. Yet, I cannot help but feel a little frustrated when I tell my friends and family, that I am not well, and they just seem to say in their expressions, "Ok... is that all... " I, in my attempt not to worry my family, tried to keep the condition of my failing kidneys a secret. But, somehow, somebody heard that, of late, I have been visiting the Sime Darby Medical Center regularly. So, I told them about my non-functioning left kidney and impaired right kidneys. I was expecting a "ooo... kesiannya..." or something like that..but instead was informed that my elder brother's kidneys have shrunk a long time ago, that he's supposed to be on dialysis already, but he refused. Well, I am concerned of course about my condition, and it is in the back in my mind all the time tha...
3 comments
Read more