THE MEMOIRS OF MUSTAPHA HUSSAIN - Malaysia Today

Batu Gajah Prison 307
This was our program, day in and day out, but then, what was there in
our ‘shit-pail’? How much food did we consume? Our daily diet consisted
of only two pieces of boiled tapioca served with some stingray cartilage.
No one knew where the fish meat went.
As for vegetables, it was always pumpkin. We were inclined to believe
that pumpkin was specially chosen by the white man to weaken our
libido, so most detainees, especially the older ones, decided to forgo eating
pumpkin lest we become impotent. This nagging concern was one day
voiced by Tahir, who diplomatically asked a Malay warder, “Enchik
Mastan, there is something that is worrying us older detainees. ‘That’,
and the pumpkin diet. What will happen to us?” Enchik Mastan replied,
with just as much tact, “Oh, ‘that’ concern! Don’t worry! Once you are
released, once you are able to smell some fragrance, you will realise your
worry is groundless.” His answer was worth a million dollars. It gave us
(detainees) hope. Hope of getting out, hope of resuming a normal life
with our family and hope of continuing with our life, which had been
temporarily put on hold.
We were never given sugar or milk, except once. We were treated to
milked tea on the day the FSS Officer’s car was stoned by some Chinese
boys as he was driving back from Ipoh. After that rude awakening, the
FSS Officer paid more attention to our concern about the Bintang Tiga.
Tea was plentiful, as tea-leaves came from a garden in the compound.
We were, however, perpetually hungry. When my hunger was unbearable,
I would drink lots of water to calm my growling stomach.
Among the prison dwellers was a strange Malay man who would not
stay put in a place and would not befriend anyone. He looked alarmed
just before a rainfall, especially if it was accompanied by thunder and
lightning. He would tear blades of grass off the ground and stick them
behind his ears. Nightly, when the clock struck twelve, he would scream
his head off until a warder came to shut him up. One morning, I noticed
him walking about as if looking for something, until he found an old rusty
nail. After that we no longer heard his midnight screams. According to
Malay beliefs, a rusty nail under one’s pillow keeps evil spirits at bay.
He was apparently an executioner, or a ‘head-chopper’ in common terms,
arrested in Bruas, Perak. I heard he was tried and sentenced to ten years
imprisonment for causing pain to civilians.
Also on the ground floor were several former members of the Japanese
Police, including Abdul Ghani and Mansur, a former Malay Regiment
soldier. Abdul Ghani was released and later became a Police Inspector,
but Mansur was hanged for killing a Chinese in Kampar during the
Japanese Occupation.