THE MEMOIRS OF MUSTAPHA HUSSAIN - Malaysia Today

306 Memoirs of Mustapha Hussain
displayed in the wet markets. Nevertheless, all three detention sites I
experienced were disgusting and appalling! Months of sleeping on a
coarse plank-bed and a cement-slab pillow left lasting physical effects.
When I left the prison, the skin around my ankle was considerably
thickened. The back of my neck was almost as thick as that of cart-pulling
bullocks. Till today these parts of my body are prone to skin disorders.
After our names were called out, our doors were opened and closed
one by one. We emerged attached to our stinking rubber pails. A Punjabi
warder shouted in Malay, but with a heavy Punjabi accent, “Sit down in
fours. Sit down in fours. Not like goats!” He then made a headcount using
his baton. I saw it almost hit Tahir’s head. On our doors were painted
AT (Awaiting Trial) followed by numbers. One day we protested against
the Bangladeshi warder’s unkindly treatment, quoting that we were not
prisoners but AT detainees, but he responded, “AT or prisoners, all are
the same to me!” This warder could sleep while standing up and was an
opium addict.
Each morning, we were pulled out of our cells, assembled for the
headcount and sent to the courtyard through a steel door. Again, the
warder reminded, “Walk in fours, not like goats!” We were then to sit
under a shed. As we were not asked to do any work, we sat, day in and
day out, talking and joking. But our eyes would wildly follow smoking
British soldiers, just to see where they threw their cigarette butts. Every
day, we were locked in from 4.00 pm till 8.00 am the next morning.
Luckily my cell was on the ground floor or it would have been hell for
my weak legs.
There was a detainee who worried incessantly about being killed by
the British. One day, Tahir asked him, “Did you commit any crime?” The
pessimist answered like a shot, “No!” So Tahir responded, “Should you
be killed, you would die a martyr and your reward would be a sure
entry to heaven.” Before the pessimist could ask further, Tahir concluded
with a smile, “But, according to Islamic religious teachers, God is most
selective in choosing candidates for martyrdom. Not like the looks of
you!” Someone interrupted cheerily, “So, chances are we will be set
free?!” From then on, the pessimist’s morose face appeared slightly pink,
with hope.
Each afternoon, we were returned to our cells in the same grand
manner we went out. In fours and carrying our night-soil pail with the
obese warder shouting, “Get in and bring your shit-pail too!” Regardless
if one was a MCS Officer, a Co-operative Officer, a lecturer, a Police
Inspector or a communist, one had to carry his own ‘shit-pail’. We were
all equal within prison walls and we mixed freely regardless of status.