THE MEMOIRS OF MUSTAPHA HUSSAIN - Malaysia Today

398 Memoirs of Mustapha Hussain
Such thanks are extended to all the directors, especially Haji Yahaya
from Bagan Datuk and Arshad Ashaari from Bidor, who gave their all to
the company. I must not forget my friends, Ishak Haji Muhammad, Dr
Burhanuddin, Ahmad Boestamam and Abdul Rahman Rahim, who helped
build the company with sweat and tears, but did not witness its demise
in 1974. Lastly, I should not omit the shareholders who willingly parted
with what little they had.
Notes
1. Translator’s note: I was only nine, but I remember that visit. Night had fallen and
the living room where my father and his friends sat was rather dark. My mother sent
me there to switch the light on, but my father jumped up from his seat to switch it
off. The men then continued to talk in the dark. I thought that was rather strange.
2. Translator’s note: Chikgu Yusuf was my Standard VI class teacher at Jalan Pasir
Putih Malay School. He was a dedicated and gentle teacher who never needed a cane.
3. Translator’s note: We lived upstairs. It was nothing much, but I was proud of it, for
it was our first brick dwelling. It also afforded us a grandstand view of various events
that took place in the Town Padang (Square) in front. At night, I loved to watch the
string of sparrows perched wing to wing on telegraph lines strung along the street,
and wondered if the same sparrow slept in the same spot every night.
4. Translator’s note: My father’s political friends visited the press downstairs at all
hours. Since it was considered improper in Malay etiquette for my mother to serve
male guests coffee, I always carried trays of thick black coffee to them. One afternoon,
as I was setting down a tray, I saw the men (my father included) passing a
small note from one to another, as if they did not know what to do with it. A man
with pouting lips stood up, said “Give it to me”, folded it many times over and stuck
it into his shoe. He then walked out. That man I later recognised as Ishak Haji
Muhammad (Pak Sako).
5. Translator’s note: At night, after my parents had fallen asleep, I used a torchlight to
slip downstairs to retrieve a book from one of the shelves. As my parents did not
approve of us sleeping late, I used the torchlight to read under my blanket. In that
manner, I read almost all the books that my father sold. I don’t know if he ever
knew of my nightly sojourns into the wonderful world of words. It was then that I
dreamt of having my name on the cover of a book; now (2004) I have four books to
my name.