Whenever I miss my dad, I would browse through his website: www.matzakaria.com. This weekend, I am not going to see him, as my mother and Asri the Pok Su is going to Trg. He is a great man, and I wish I can become like him. He comes from a poor family, and manages to work hard and changes his life with a lot of help from a lot of people. He told us stories about his childhood, which I could not imagine because it is unimaginable. His kampung life, his friends, his (our) relatives, all effected the transformation. He wants to help his people now, his 35 years being away from Trg, learning and searching, gaining experience has finally being recognize, he is on a mission to make his people to ‘wake up’.
The following is written by him, in searching for a true friend who once gave him a few cents for school expenses.
A Little Too Late for So Little for So Much
But at last I did it. That had made my memory a bit “unstressed”. 2009 Mar 30 Mon ca. 10.30 pm. While strolling to Pengkalan Maras with MoktarMekAbang, my boy-time folkmate, and a cousin, for an ‘ikan bakar’ treat, told me that his workmate who I knew as Mahat, a distant relative of my father, had a elder brother who had passed away, ca four months ago, aged seventy plus. His elder brother, the one no other than that who had carved permanently in my memory. Which had been unweathered to this day by the heat or the cold of the night, or by the acid or monsoon rain. The elder brother who I knew as AbangWel who had lived nearby my father’s sister place Batu 6. Who had played such a vital ‘devine’ role in the making of my life during the period I was a timid boy walking to and fro in the mid-day heat, or wet of monsoon rain, to Sek Keb Bukit Tunggal to finish my primary school in the early 1960’s. And during this period of time, whenever he crossed me (and my brother) swarming with school folkmates on the tarmac road, on his bicycle either heading to Bukit Datu ferry for work in Kuala Terengganu, or going home, he never failed to drop for me a few cents. He never failed every time he crossed, even once. The few which was so much to me then. He was like MakSuCheBah who fed me in the school canteen whenever she saw I was hungry, and centless. So, while Mahat was stepping off from the back seat of the V6, I grabbed from my rear right pocket the smaller pack. Perhaps two or may be four, or may be more hrm, and asked him to pass it on to AbangWel’s widow. It was very little for once so much. It was a great relief, feeling like just arrive home from a long oversea away. A little too late though.
From his pages:
http://www.matzakaria.com/fototeks/a_2009.html
terasa macam baca novel, seriously. not in the sense that it feels unreal, but in the sense that it is a good story, that is readworthy for a large audience.
btw, students awak datang baca blog ni, maknanya awak kena tulis dengan grammar yang betul! ehehe.. (jahat tak nak tambah pressure ;p)
Kalau nampak ada yang tak betul tu, tegur la…
I want my students to think, and learn about life…. as we learn from Ayoh and Mok because they are very close to us, but for some people they dont feel our closeness and connection, they feel like their parents is the boss! Masalah sosial bermula dari family…. so kita kena berkempen….. (masih tak boleh lupa kejadian yang menimpa anak sulung abg Jimmy).