On 28 July this year our PM
announced the appointment of his new deputy. I'm not
interested in your comments, so don't bother. Dato Seri Dr Ahmad Zahid
Hamidi, the new Deputy Prime Minister, is no stranger. He's a seasoned politician with a
chequered career, you know, ups and downs, highlands and lowlands. I guess it's all ups from now on.
Some countries, like Singapore, have two deputy prime ministers. Honestly I don't know exactly what
a deputy prime minister does, let alone two. Everybody in UK now thinks PM David Cameron's deputy is Brendan Rogers, including David Cameron himsef. I'm sure Dr Ahmad Zahid knows what to do as Deputy Prime Minister. Even if he
doesn't, he can quickly fall back on his day job as Minister of Home
Affairs, a job he's performed so well so far. Penang and Pandamaran are
now virtually free of gangsters.
Everywhere in the
world a home affairs minister is powerful because they're in charge of public
safety and internal security. They control (figuratively) the police,
immigration and prisons. If police and prisons don't scare you, nothing
will. You'd know you have an effective home affairs minister if you feel safe at home and you don't run red lights or you don't bully lady drivers on the road.
But why call it Home Affairs? Maybe to
differentiate it from Foreign Affairs and other affairs away from home (office, Starbucks etc). They also call it Home Affairs
Minister in Zimbabwe. So we must be on the right track. In North Korea
two ministries are responsible for home affairs: Ministry of State
Security and Ministry of People's Security. They're both responsible for the only viable business in the country: prisons.
Now
back to our new Deputy Prime Minister. I've never met or spoken to Dr Ahmad Zahid but he
impressed me as crowd pleasing and easygoing when I saw a footage of him on a big bike
wearing a big smile. My wife thinks he's good-looking, you know, that fertile crop of real hair, sharp dress and all. She's using me as the benchmark, so the
standard is pretty low.
I've nothing but respect and admiration for what he'd achieved. It's not easy to become a minister, let alone a Deputy Prime Minister. You can be rich by starting an on line business but you still can't be a Deputy Prime Minister. I'm just proud to say that we were both born in the early part of 1953. Nothing special about that because millions of people were born in 1953, including our PM, Hulk Hogan and Cyndi Lauper. But Dr Ahmad Zahid and I share something else. We both attended schools in Tiger Lane in Ipoh. His school, Sekolah Izzuddin Shah, was just across the road, within a shouting distance (quite literally) from my school. Since we were born in the same year, it's safe to conclude that we were around Tiger Lane at about the same time, the hippie years of 1966 - 1971.
I've nothing but respect and admiration for what he'd achieved. It's not easy to become a minister, let alone a Deputy Prime Minister. You can be rich by starting an on line business but you still can't be a Deputy Prime Minister. I'm just proud to say that we were both born in the early part of 1953. Nothing special about that because millions of people were born in 1953, including our PM, Hulk Hogan and Cyndi Lauper. But Dr Ahmad Zahid and I share something else. We both attended schools in Tiger Lane in Ipoh. His school, Sekolah Izzuddin Shah, was just across the road, within a shouting distance (quite literally) from my school. Since we were born in the same year, it's safe to conclude that we were around Tiger Lane at about the same time, the hippie years of 1966 - 1971.
I'm
not sure why, but it's like some kind of law that schools in the same
neighbourhood must hate each others' guts. Harvard steals MIT's Nobel
prize winners, and vice versa. For years St John's has been insinuating
that VI is a glorified mental institution. There's no love lost between
my school and Sekolah Izzuddin. The resentment ran deep for three
reasons:
1. Both schools were fully residential all-boys schools. So the students were a deprived and deranged lot. We were all accidents waiting to happen.
2. Sekolah Izzuddin was a state-run religious school, whereas my school was a federal-funded English-medium school and, of course, less than religious. They learned Arabic while we played rugby and cricket.
3. My school was about one hundred times bigger in area with lots of buildings and fields and gardens. Not to mention those wardens and cooks and prefects running around.
That "English medium and bigger buildings" bit was actually irrelevant and immaterial because we're completely different types of schools, with dissimilar inputs and end-products. But the big heads among us took this as a subtle sign of superiority and a green light to run down our neighbour.
My school had eight hostel blocks, with two (Yellow House and White House) at the far end and closest to Sekolah Izzuddin. Incidentally these blocks housed more than their fair share of those elements that our (gay) prefects had, quite rightly, regraded as basket-case. These guys needed only half a reason to fly off the handle, so to speak. In the late afternoons they'd mill about the fence to trade insults with their opposite number across the road. I can't recall all the gibes and taunts, but the one that stands out until today was "Oi, dok baca Yasin ka?" I suppose that verbal pile-driver packed enough cerebral power to leave the other side with no options but to bay for our blood.
1. Both schools were fully residential all-boys schools. So the students were a deprived and deranged lot. We were all accidents waiting to happen.
2. Sekolah Izzuddin was a state-run religious school, whereas my school was a federal-funded English-medium school and, of course, less than religious. They learned Arabic while we played rugby and cricket.
3. My school was about one hundred times bigger in area with lots of buildings and fields and gardens. Not to mention those wardens and cooks and prefects running around.
That "English medium and bigger buildings" bit was actually irrelevant and immaterial because we're completely different types of schools, with dissimilar inputs and end-products. But the big heads among us took this as a subtle sign of superiority and a green light to run down our neighbour.
My school had eight hostel blocks, with two (Yellow House and White House) at the far end and closest to Sekolah Izzuddin. Incidentally these blocks housed more than their fair share of those elements that our (gay) prefects had, quite rightly, regraded as basket-case. These guys needed only half a reason to fly off the handle, so to speak. In the late afternoons they'd mill about the fence to trade insults with their opposite number across the road. I can't recall all the gibes and taunts, but the one that stands out until today was "Oi, dok baca Yasin ka?" I suppose that verbal pile-driver packed enough cerebral power to leave the other side with no options but to bay for our blood.
It had to be sooner rather than later. Both sets of students would descend on Ipoh town
(now city, for some reason) on weekends and unfortunately our paths had to cross because Ipoh then was smaller than KLCC now. We'd to
share the same bus. You can imagine the tension and anticipation
building up whenever the two groups converged at the bus station.
There's plenty of provocative stares and eyeballing. If I'm honest, the
Izzuddin guys always had the upper hand and we were, well, cowed. They're on
average bigger and had reached puberty earlier. Our dining hall
wasn't Ritz Carlton, so we didn't grow and develop quite the way we
should have.
Admittedly
we're only good and strong in numbers and behind the fence. Outside the
school the Yellow House cowboys walked like Yellow House choir boys. I myself had an
encounter of the fourth kind at the bus station. A guy in our group was
picked out to join the Izzuddin table for a heart-to-heart talk. Our rep
was cool enough not to rattle and crumble. He's back with us soon
enough, with a "last warning" from the Izzuddin mafioso. Until today we
can't quite figure out a warning for what.
To
be fair the altercations had never escalated into all-out skirmishes or hand-to-hand combats.
Deep down, we'd so much in common: Melayu, Islam, Kampung, and broke as hell.
Nevertheless making fun of Izzuddin guys continued to be the most
popular sport after rugby.
One cruel joke making the rounds was about one of our guys who was pulled over by the Izzuddin crowd and verbally warned, in English, "You remember you strong?". Our guy was stumped and he took all the time he needed to regain and to make sense of it. You remember you strong? "Awak ingat awak kuat!". Hahahaha. In Malay context and civilization, it wasn't a casual question. It's a clear and severe warning. In no time, "you remember you strong?" became our battle cry. And a potent weapon to cull any of our own trying to show off, rerun old jokes etc. This precious line has become an urban legend, repeated a thousand times right to this day in our lively group exchanges.
One cruel joke making the rounds was about one of our guys who was pulled over by the Izzuddin crowd and verbally warned, in English, "You remember you strong?". Our guy was stumped and he took all the time he needed to regain and to make sense of it. You remember you strong? "Awak ingat awak kuat!". Hahahaha. In Malay context and civilization, it wasn't a casual question. It's a clear and severe warning. In no time, "you remember you strong?" became our battle cry. And a potent weapon to cull any of our own trying to show off, rerun old jokes etc. This precious line has become an urban legend, repeated a thousand times right to this day in our lively group exchanges.
Well
I thought nothing of this "You remember you are strong" episode beyond
its nostalgic element until Dr Ahmad Zahid was appointed
Deputy Prime Minister. I don't have any proof of whether he had any part in the bus station
showdown or whether he was actually the one who coined the paranormal poser "you
remember you strong?". I don't think he was involved in any way. Most likely he was a softie in bell-bottoms and part of scholarly set who loved classes and exams. He is the first Deputy Prime Minister with a PhD.
For us, boys from the big, English-medium school, it's time for some reflection and serious soul searching. Leaders lurk anywhere, shaped and made in the humblest of surroundings. Like it or not, an Izzuddin hotshot is now the Home Affairs Minister and Deputy Prime Minister. Eat your heart out, boys.
Dr Ahmad Zahid is effectively the most powerful person in the whole country now. He can haul up anybody he sees as a real or even notional threat to our national security. See the pic above. He's making a point or perhaps reminding us or even issuing a last warning. I'll never know what he was saying. It could well be "You remember you strong?"
For us, boys from the big, English-medium school, it's time for some reflection and serious soul searching. Leaders lurk anywhere, shaped and made in the humblest of surroundings. Like it or not, an Izzuddin hotshot is now the Home Affairs Minister and Deputy Prime Minister. Eat your heart out, boys.
Dr Ahmad Zahid is effectively the most powerful person in the whole country now. He can haul up anybody he sees as a real or even notional threat to our national security. See the pic above. He's making a point or perhaps reminding us or even issuing a last warning. I'll never know what he was saying. It could well be "You remember you strong?"
