this was a raw attempt that me and my friends Nik, Lish and Yasmin did with the equipments we have... enjoy....
Monday, October 11, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
A Malay Warrior who fought for Indonesian Independence
This blog is dedicated to my late Grand fathers and Grand uncles who had the reality life show of experiencing the hardship as youngsters during the Japanese occupation of Malaya and South East Asia as a tribute by the younger generation of family to them.
This question always intrigues me - How did my late great grand Uncle Pak Salleh (my late great grandfather’s youngest sibling) come to and settled in Bandung? My father told me that it was a long story. He came to Indonesia in 1945 when there was then no AirAsia, no Straits Shipping Company and no Malacca Dumai ferry. It is not Ripley’s Believe it or Not BUT he actually came to the shores of Bali by riding on a piece of plank (a prototype surf board). Now I know why I like to surf in the sea at Cherating, yearn to go surfing in Bali and to travel throughout the Java Island. He related his experience to my father and my father told it to me, and I am repeating here for our generation to remember by especially my Muar family origins.
It all began in Muar town when the Japanese occupied Malaya. As a common practice then, the Japanese always rounded up and kidnapped village youngsters and forced them to serve in the Japanese army. They took those youngsters who liked to hang around (Lepak) who were curious watching the Japanese soldiers in Muar town. My late great grand father , Haji Ahmad Idris and his brother Pak Salleh, somehow managed to run away first but one of their brother’s, Mahfis were unfortunate to get caught by the Japanese soldiers and loaded into the waiting lorries and was sent to the Thailand to serve as forced labour on the infamous death railways. Pak Salleh, my father call him Kakek in Indonesian (equivalent to Atuk in Malay) on the other hand became a soldier for the allied and was sent to Indonesia. He was transported to Singapore and then was put on a boat outbound to Indonesia. However, half way through the journey, the Japanese gunboats torpedoed the boat. When the boat was beginning to sink, Pak Salleh and his friend kept each other floating by holding on to a plank that was blown off from the boat. His friend became weaker and finally sank to the bottom of the Java Sea. He held tight to the plank and thinking he will be next to die. He kept afloat for days thank the Almighty Allah that his life is still long (“Alhamdullilah, umur Kakek masih panjang lagi”) he was rescued by some fisherman. What an irony for “a piece of plank that floats in the sea”. He used his piece of the plank for survival and I am using a piece of plank (surf board) for sport. And it is just a piece of plank. His journey to survive from Bali Island to Surabaya and in Jogjakarta he met Muhammad Suhar Sukarya who was an Indonesian freedom fighter at that time. Pak Salleh joined M.S Sukarya to fight the Dutch for the Indonesia Independence. After World War II was over he followed M.S Sukarya back to Bandung where he met a beautiful girl and married her to settle down and started his family. When he died, he was given the honour to be buried at the Warriors Graveyard (Pusara Pahlawan) in Bandung. My parents and grandfather visited him 25 years ago.
My uncle Rafid once worked at Subang, East Java, Indonesia in 1994, and often visited them during his stay at Indonesia. In fact, the family in Muar sponsored him to come back to Malaysia (Muar & Kuala Lumpur) to meet the family here. He came to our house in KL but we were with my mother in Leicester, UK. My father went for meetings in Indonesia and visited him several times. The last time my dad met him was in 2002 when his health was failing due to the old age.
We knew of his death from the son in law in 2003 but after that somehow we lost contact. When I went to go to Bandung, I tried to get his address. My father had misplaced it and he remembered only the name road (Jalan Rajawali Timur) but not the numbers. Luckily, my uncle Rafid still kept the address of the son in law, Pak Sukandar.
The other brother, Mahfis survived the force labour of the death railways. When the Japanese surrendered after the American dropped of the two atomic bombs, Fat Man and Little Boy in Hiroshima and Nagasaki (Khad and I were in Nagasaki in 2001), the force labour were abandoned. He made his way to the south hoping to come back home to Malaya. He traveled and lived from village to village in Thailand. He did not reach home though but settled half way in Bangkok. His mother waited for him for years since her maternal instinct knew that he was still alive some where. Every evening she waited at the main door of her house looking to the road hoping that one day his son will emerges in front of her. He tried to contact his mother in Muar but his letters did not have correct address. Finally, he wrote one addressed to the mosque. The mail carrier send to the Kampong mosque and it was read to the villages. But by then, his mother had passed away.
My grandfather in Kuantan (my dad’s father) was also being forcefully recruited to become Japanese soldiers. He had to learned Japanese language and can sing Japanese songs. He managed to run away from the Japanese army one month before the Japanese surrendered and went into hiding. The younger generation heard that Malayan then was having hard time during the Japanese occupation from the history books. . But the youngsters then had really experienced very hard time then were forced to serve the Japanese in Indonesia, Thailand, and Malaya.
This question always intrigues me - How did my late great grand Uncle Pak Salleh (my late great grandfather’s youngest sibling) come to and settled in Bandung? My father told me that it was a long story. He came to Indonesia in 1945 when there was then no AirAsia, no Straits Shipping Company and no Malacca Dumai ferry. It is not Ripley’s Believe it or Not BUT he actually came to the shores of Bali by riding on a piece of plank (a prototype surf board). Now I know why I like to surf in the sea at Cherating, yearn to go surfing in Bali and to travel throughout the Java Island. He related his experience to my father and my father told it to me, and I am repeating here for our generation to remember by especially my Muar family origins.
It all began in Muar town when the Japanese occupied Malaya. As a common practice then, the Japanese always rounded up and kidnapped village youngsters and forced them to serve in the Japanese army. They took those youngsters who liked to hang around (Lepak) who were curious watching the Japanese soldiers in Muar town. My late great grand father , Haji Ahmad Idris and his brother Pak Salleh, somehow managed to run away first but one of their brother’s, Mahfis were unfortunate to get caught by the Japanese soldiers and loaded into the waiting lorries and was sent to the Thailand to serve as forced labour on the infamous death railways. Pak Salleh, my father call him Kakek in Indonesian (equivalent to Atuk in Malay) on the other hand became a soldier for the allied and was sent to Indonesia. He was transported to Singapore and then was put on a boat outbound to Indonesia. However, half way through the journey, the Japanese gunboats torpedoed the boat. When the boat was beginning to sink, Pak Salleh and his friend kept each other floating by holding on to a plank that was blown off from the boat. His friend became weaker and finally sank to the bottom of the Java Sea. He held tight to the plank and thinking he will be next to die. He kept afloat for days thank the Almighty Allah that his life is still long (“Alhamdullilah, umur Kakek masih panjang lagi”) he was rescued by some fisherman. What an irony for “a piece of plank that floats in the sea”. He used his piece of the plank for survival and I am using a piece of plank (surf board) for sport. And it is just a piece of plank. His journey to survive from Bali Island to Surabaya and in Jogjakarta he met Muhammad Suhar Sukarya who was an Indonesian freedom fighter at that time. Pak Salleh joined M.S Sukarya to fight the Dutch for the Indonesia Independence. After World War II was over he followed M.S Sukarya back to Bandung where he met a beautiful girl and married her to settle down and started his family. When he died, he was given the honour to be buried at the Warriors Graveyard (Pusara Pahlawan) in Bandung. My parents and grandfather visited him 25 years ago.
My uncle Rafid once worked at Subang, East Java, Indonesia in 1994, and often visited them during his stay at Indonesia. In fact, the family in Muar sponsored him to come back to Malaysia (Muar & Kuala Lumpur) to meet the family here. He came to our house in KL but we were with my mother in Leicester, UK. My father went for meetings in Indonesia and visited him several times. The last time my dad met him was in 2002 when his health was failing due to the old age.
We knew of his death from the son in law in 2003 but after that somehow we lost contact. When I went to go to Bandung, I tried to get his address. My father had misplaced it and he remembered only the name road (Jalan Rajawali Timur) but not the numbers. Luckily, my uncle Rafid still kept the address of the son in law, Pak Sukandar.
The other brother, Mahfis survived the force labour of the death railways. When the Japanese surrendered after the American dropped of the two atomic bombs, Fat Man and Little Boy in Hiroshima and Nagasaki (Khad and I were in Nagasaki in 2001), the force labour were abandoned. He made his way to the south hoping to come back home to Malaya. He traveled and lived from village to village in Thailand. He did not reach home though but settled half way in Bangkok. His mother waited for him for years since her maternal instinct knew that he was still alive some where. Every evening she waited at the main door of her house looking to the road hoping that one day his son will emerges in front of her. He tried to contact his mother in Muar but his letters did not have correct address. Finally, he wrote one addressed to the mosque. The mail carrier send to the Kampong mosque and it was read to the villages. But by then, his mother had passed away.
My grandfather in Kuantan (my dad’s father) was also being forcefully recruited to become Japanese soldiers. He had to learned Japanese language and can sing Japanese songs. He managed to run away from the Japanese army one month before the Japanese surrendered and went into hiding. The younger generation heard that Malayan then was having hard time during the Japanese occupation from the history books. . But the youngsters then had really experienced very hard time then were forced to serve the Japanese in Indonesia, Thailand, and Malaya.
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