Return of the Swampman

It has been four long years since I added anything to my near-defunct blog.

I have since moved from the swamps of East Borneo to the swamps of the bayous of Louisiana. More on this later but I think I may already be in purgatory as a prelude to my special place in Hell. I hear they reserve a special spot there for someone like me.

A lot has happened since then; not least my three favorite bloggers have upped and gone away (see In Memoriam side-bar), the latest being Unker Bernard aka Zorro this past April. Fortunately I was home for his wake where spirits were downed in an atmosphere of good cheer all around. BTW, it was the late Zorro who had nicknamed me Swampman, so it saddens me that he would never come visit my blog again.

                                                                       Three PAS reps @Zorro's funeral

                                                                                        Me and buddy Ronnie
                                                                 
Four long years is long enough to be in mourning --my Dad had also passed on in August last year...on the very same morning that Kerp had lost his wife to cancer?

Enough. Time to move on.

Smiling For Dalilah (Scenes from Kg. Labuhan Dagang)

I DON'T HAVE much to say here 'cept good-bye, Dalilah...

For a kick-off, don't you think it's a strange coincidence that my last posting was EXACTLY a year ago? July 19, 2009? Yes, that's when we lost Bang Captain...

A-ny-ways...

Hey, my missus was a bit upset when you became the second woman (besides her that is) to sit in my low-slung, mid-life-crisis coupe... heh heh. No other woman (yet) besides you and her has had that honor, che-wah...

Anyway, she was cool bout it later. Really. Hey, it's THE Raden Galoh after all!

Today, she saw you an hour after you drew your last breath this morning, dear, And when the nurses and the ladies went out of that curtained partition around your bed, I too went in and drew the curtains around so we could have our privacy and say my piece to you.

You look so lovely with your full head of hair, D. So serene. No, I did not shed a tear for you D because I was actually happy for you. It's time you were released, dear...

Me? No regrets for you laa, D. You've led a heck of a life, didn't you?

You will be sorely missed by all whose lives were once touched by you. That's a given, D.

You've gone and left us bereft, and in mourning.

Gone, yes gone. But I do not doubt that you will ever be forgotten, my dear Dalilah.

Love and Peace.

-Mat Salo

Bereaved father (right)

Bereaved mother

Selamat Tinggal Pak Samad

I DON"T KNOW THE MAN. Know-off him? - sure. Never had the pleasure to meet the great Pak A Samad Ismail. Tan Sri. But some of his children, I've met, and proud to call them friends. Children are a man's greatest assets they say, and in this respect they didn't disappoint. One of whom is exactly my age, a boy whom I ran into when we ran through the same circles once, and the other two sisters I met through the local blogging fraternity. I believe a younger sister was a classmate of my own sister too. My condolences to each of you.

A certain sadness washed over me when I first heard the news. When I think of him, I think of his conviction, his bravery. His incarceration: the first time by the British, from 1951 to 1953. A founding member of Singapore's PAP with his then coalition partner, Lee Kuan Yew.

If he hadn't had a falling out with LKY, or the pull of journalism too strong (he left for KL in '59 to head Berita Harian, and later NST), he might have been, at the very least, LKY's second-in-command. Who's to know?

Many years on, his adopted country Malaysia also chose to incarcerate him, sans trial. That's why the I.S.A. is an abomination. An affront to civilized society, an affront to our Maker. All you have to do is look at the gentle soul called Pak Samad - merengkok in that hell hole for seven - SEVEN!- ('76-'81) bloody years and you know deep in your skin-and-bones that the I.S.A. isn't - wasn't - never-ever-gonna-be - right.

All in all he spent almost a whole decade behind prison walls, forcibly separated from his beloved family; from his children who were small at the time. No, this isn't quite so true. It's the I.S.A. after all, where the rules are arbitrary. He could, I suppose, have cut a deal, cop out, admit (falsely), sign-whatever - but he knew better. It must've pained him to see the family suffer . . . because frail as some might think he was, Pak Samad had bags of steely resolve. He put conviction and belief above all else. A testament to his strength.

Thank you for showing us the true meaning of patriotism, and what it means to love our country.

Selamat tinggal Pak Samad.

Al- Fatehah...