A New Clerk On The House

     In my previous posting, I wrote about attending an interview as a clerk towards the end of 1976 and the following year I was appointed as a clerk at Sekolah Menengah Datuk Bentara Luar, Batu Pahat or in English, Datuk Bentara Luar Secondary School (SDBL).

     January thirteenth saw me riding Dad's scooter Vespa JC2551 to SDBL at Lim Poon road, Batu Pahat.  Prior to that, I had made a preliminary inquiry of the location of the school with Romli a few days before.  It was around fifteen minutes after eight o'clock in the morning as I ascended the slope towards the office and politely knocked on the door.  A pleasant lady looked up from her desk and beckoned to me to enter, smiling sweetly, cheering me up.  This lady whom I met the other day, was the senior clerk, Miss Siti Rosmah bte Hj Tahir.
                                                                                         

Datuk Bentara Luar Secondary School, Batu Pahat

     Cik Rosmah instructed me to start work.  The first task that I needed to do was typing the pay-sheet where all the particulars about the salaries of the school staff had been drafted on the typewriter. There were no computers at all at that school and perhaps also in the whole of Malaysia at that time.  I was at home with the typewriter but typing numbers was a great challenge that made unhappy because the keys on the typewriter were very high up and furthest from my tired fingers as I had to knock on every button fiercely to ensure that the number appeared clearly.  Furthermore, I couldn't afford to make mistakes.  I couldn't imagine what would happen if I missed one '0' when typing the salary of a teacher who was entitled to get $800.00 per month.  However, I had no choice but to do it, since this was what I applied for, didn't I?

     Madam Siti Rosmah always introduced me to every teacher who walked into the office.  "Let me introduced Borhanudin, the new clerk..."  And the male teachers would offer their hands as a gesture of welcome, which I quickly took happily, eager to be accepted as a member of the school community.

     I could remember the exact number, but there were many teachers at SDBL.  There were Malays, Chinese and Indians a majority of which were the Malays.  I could still remember a few names such as Paiman Hussein, Mashudan Kamar, Kadir Bawok, Yusof Abdul Rahman, Rubaie Sulaiman, Mahadhir (an Indian Muslim) and Chan.

     At a corner was the office boy named Rahim.  He had a nasty look, just like the look of a rogue.  His hair was a little bit long and curly that seemed to cling to his scalp nastily.  He never smiled.  One look at him made me resented him.  I made up my mind not to go near him.

     During lunch break, walked a Laboratory Attendant by the name of Senin into the office.  He said he had been instructed to bring me to a 'Ustaz' religious teacher's house as I would be staying with him (the Ustaz) while I worked at SDBL and be paying part of the house rent to him.  The house was not far from the school.

     At four o'clock, I 'went back' to the house that I rented with the Ustaz.  The word 'went back' didn't seem right because I still hadn't felt that I belonged to that house or it was my home.  I had an easy chat with him.  He told me that he lived there with another teacher who still hadn't come back from his kampung.  When I moved in, the number of tenants increased to become three people.

     "Actually, I didn't want to accept you in the house, but En Arif (the school Headmaster) asked me to take you."  That was one sentences articulated by Ustaz that stunned me and made me unhappy.  However, I did not voice my desolation, but kept deep within myself.

     "You can use ... (the name of the other teacher that I had forgotten) bed,"  Ustaz said.

     "Thanks," I replied, but I was adamant not to use his bed.

Lost and Found

     In my posting under the title 'Form Six (Part 2)', I wrote about that year's end-of-year school holidays was my last school holidays at the private school.  I did not go back to that school the next year and I did not meet any of my friends in the Englismh class except one, after so many years.  Coincidentally he was married to a female colleague of mine when we were at a high learning institution.

     During the fasting month in 1976, I received a letter from the Civil Service Department requesting me to go for an interview as a clerk at Dato' Palembang Primary School, Bukit Baru, Malacca.  The interview would be held on the second last day of the fasting month starting from 8.00 am. to 4.00 pm.  I went for the interview on that date starting the journey at around 7.00 am with my cousin Romly on his father's scooter, Vespa BAA 1390.

Datuk Palembang National School, then it wasn't this beaut...

     The next day, I ferried Kak Long on my father's scooter, Vespa to the same school as she had to undergo the same interivew.  After the interview, we rode our scooter from the school towards the junction where we would turn towards Muar.  Whether there was no signboard or I just couldn't see one that showed the way to Muar, I stopped at a junction and tried to think of the way to Muar.  On my left was a hill on which there were a lot of chinese graveyards (I didn't realize that it was 'Bukit China'), on my left were rows of buildings and in front were the same.  I decided to go straight and soon saw Banda Hilir in front of me.  Surely, this was not the right path, so I turned right (I couldn't turn back as the road was a one-way street).  After a few turns, we came to the same junction that we met after we left the school.  I started to get worried.  I dared not turn right, or else the road might bring me farther away from home.  I tried to gamble my chance, so I went straight for the second time.

     Once again I reached the same junction and one again I stopped.  My sister who sensed my anxiety, asked me whether we had lost our way which I replied yes.

     "That is Bukit China. Muar must be that way to the left," she said.

     My God, how silly I was!  Surely we had to go left.  Why didn't I think about it before?  Thanks to my sister.  She's an angel.

     Thus, that was how I found my way home.  I had shown my stupidity by not asking her opinion but fortunately had accepted hers when she offered it.  Moral of the story: do not underestimate a lady, she might be your saviour.

Kak Long with her husband on her wedding day...

      At the beginning of January the following year, I got a letter offering me a job as a clerk at Datuk Bentara Luar Secondary School in Batu Pahat.  When I accepted the offer, the problem that I faced at form six in Akademik Daya was solved.  Thus my new life began.