THE MEMOIRS OF MUSTAPHA HUSSAIN - Malaysia Today

Anti-Imperialism and Anti-Feudalism 65
Whenever he came across a word or a phrase he did not know, he
would write it down in a fine script (to save space) in the appropriate
column. Using this method and with the help of dictionaries, he widened
his Arabic and English vocabulary without attending any costly lessons.
He had another fine habit – no matter what he read, he underlined words
and phrases he did not know and would look them up in the dictionary
at the next available opportunity. Another interesting habit was marking
his reading material with the dates he had read them.
His fondness for books, reading and learning, was remarkable,
especially for that time. During the few times he visited me later on in
life, he never tired of asking my children to do their homework in front
of him. While my children read or wrote, my father would take the
opportunity to read all their textbooks, especially those in geography,
history and literature. My children were tired of him telling them to
develop “a thirst for knowledge and a hunger for books.” My daughters
were advised to take up teaching. This, he said, was the best vocation
for women, who, as mothers, could teach their children at home.
What a remarkable father I had. At a time when few parents saw
the importance of education and the English language as a medium of
progress, we were lucky to have him. In fact, until a couple of months
prior to his death, he had a definite morning routine, come rain or shine.
Impatient to get hold of a newspaper that would arrive late in Matang,
he took a bus daily to Taiping, where he walked half a mile to his friend’s
bakery that also sold newspapers. There, at Osman Bakery along Station
Road, he read as many newspapers as were available since he could only
afford to buy one.
He would continue to read in the bus on the way home, diligently
marking words he did not know. After lunch and the afternoon prayer,
he read again, this time with a battered dictionary on his lap and a green
Parker fountain pen clipped to his top shirt pocket.
Towards the end of his years, I could hear my asthmatic father painfully
wheezing away as he read aloud. He said that as one got older, it
was easier to understand what one was reading if one heard the words.
Some of us in the family have acquired this love for reading and writing,
but our passion cannot hold a candle to that of my beloved late father.
Pleasant Childhood Recollections
The way I gained pocket money – by gathering areca nuts, collecting
coconuts, tapping rubber, selling mangoes to Sikh policemen and assisting
Sheikh Hassan – were invaluable experiences for one so young. It made