THE MEMOIRS OF MUSTAPHA HUSSAIN - Malaysia Today

Teaching at Serdang 105
A few days later, when Mohd Noor’s house was vacated, I moved in
with my pregnant wife and two daughters, Ayesha and Hendun, six and
two years old. For reasons only God knows, three days later, I fell ill.
Unable to walk, I was carried on a stretcher to the Kuala Lumpur Malay
Hospital. Later, upon my discharge on 5 December 1941, I returned to
the house. Again, as fate had it, I had to leave the house a day later, two
days before the outbreak of World War II on 8 December 1941, this time
never to return. In the upheavals of war that ensued, the house was
plundered clean and I lost everything I owned, the most valuable being
my cherished book collection. As a Malay who believes in providence, I
can only say, “It was meant to be!”
Efforts to Improve the Social Status of My Own Race
Heart-wrenching privations among Malay students were plain for all to
see. Chinese students arrived at the hostel lugging enormous suitcases
with all necessities. Malay students came with hardly anything; some
carried clothes bundled in sarongs. I remember one particular student who
appeared with just one change of clothes, an old pillow and a worn straw
mat. He wore a string to keep his pants up. Struck by his pitiful situation,
I passed a hat around to collect donations, initially among Malay boys,
but when the Chinese students heard about this pathetic case, they
contributed generously. I then took this emaciated Perak student on my
motorcycle to Kuala Lumpur to buy clothes and other essentials. This
student completed his course, got a job with the Field Office and worked
his way up to a Special Grade position.
Twenty years later, when I tried to look him up in Bagan Serai,
Perak, where I was selling insurance, he did not want to see me. I don’t
understand why. Was he embarrassed because I knew of his wretched
beginnings? Other former students have always welcomed me with
open arms, but this one vanished into thin air. It takes all kinds to make
this world.
While tutoring Malay to British Officers at the Serdang Experimental
Farm, I often voiced my dissatisfaction at the British Government for not
implementing a pro-Malay policy in the true sense of the word. Although
the ‘General Orders’ mentioned priority for Malays, in practice, it was
far from the truth. The British were merely paying lip service, or as the
Malay saying goes, ‘planting sugar cane on the lips’.
I carried on an unrelenting private campaign among newly arrived
British Officers who came to me for Malay lessons to impart in them a
love for Malays. I asked them how many Malays were actually working