steadyaku47 comment : Reprise : This was first First Posted in FMT under CT Ali in August 2012.
A Budak Kolej forever
An MCKK old boy reminisces, with no apologies for the bragging.
The
Malay College of Kuala Kangsar (MCKK) is not my old school. Not my Alma
Mater. It lives, breathes and is a part of me almost every waking
moment of my life. Sometimes when I am troubled it lulls me to sleep
with memories of schooldays filled with discipline and purpose, yet
tinged with the freedom and exuberance of youth. I have never left MCKK
since the first day I arrived in Kuala Kangsar as a bewildered
13-year-old to start life at Prep School.
I remember it so well. The prefect in charge of Prep School then was
Aziz Ismail, a man small in stature, but whose presence never left
me—first as my prefect, then as Aziz Ketot, the legendary scrum half of
the school’s rugby team and for almost two decades as scrum half for the
Malaysian rugger team.
His stint in PKNS as its GM was merely to fill in time in between
sailing his beloved yacht anchored at the Yacht Club at Port Kelang. And
even after his demise he is still my prefect at Prep School and still
Aziz Ketot.
That is what MCKK does to you. What started in “Kolej” follows you everywhere you go and you are the better for it.
NJ Ryan was our headmaster. He was the last expatriate to head the
school—and probably any public school in the country. We all remember Mr
Ryan with affection and respect, but more affection then respect for he
was the first iconic symbol of authority in our life and we are the
better for it.
If the British has ever given me anything of any lasting value it was
when they sent Mr Ryan as a young soldier to Malaysia to serve during
the Emergency. When that soldier finished his tour of duty, he chose to
come back to Malaysia and eventually started his life at MCKK as its
headmaster, to bestow upon all of us who had the privilege of knowing
him a lifelong kinship that transcends time and distance.
He might have left us this year when he passed away in Australia, but
his presence is always with us Kolej boys. When we meet and talk of
Kolej days, Mr Ryan will always be mentioned in the same breath as rugby
and our personal anecdotes of being caned by him for our youthful
indiscretions.
These days, of course, the memories will include the last time each
of us met him. And these stories are repeated year after year at the Old
Boys’ Dinner, and again and again at other gatherings, formal and
informal . Some of the anecdotes get passed down to younger old boys and
have become legend.
We talk about his love for rugby and the school’s victory over the
Vajiravudh College team (of Thailand) during his time, and about his
Jaguar, his near fatal accident, his surprise night checks at the
dormitories, and how expertly he held the cane and gave us the beating
of our life even with a thick book pressed between the side of his chest
and the caning arm—as per regulation.
We are Budak Kolej dulu, kini dan selama-lamanya. We are everywhere.
There are old boys in politics, bureaucracy, business, the arts and even
in a terrorist group or two. Our second prime minister was an old boy.
And, of course, there are a number of sultans.
I always get a certain thrill when I meet a sultan and greet him with
these simple words: “Budak Kolej, Tuanku.” And the Tuanku would
invariably respond with a smile and an extended hand. Ah, the privilege
of having a shared past that transcends protocol.
Nothing quite defines an old boy as the tie he wears every Wednesday,
wherever in the world he happens to be. The tales around the wearing of
this tie have also become the stuff of legend. Strangers greet each
other in Putrajaya, London, New York and even Moscow as long lost
friends on the strength of that tie. Jobs and businesses have been
secured because of that tie and many a friendship between old boys of
different generations have been forged because of it. Meetings with
captains of industry, KSUs and ministers have been made possible because
of those four letters—MCKK, followed by a mention of your year (the
year you left school) and then the house you belonged to—Idris, Ahmad,
Sulaiman or Mohd Shah.
Time stands still when we think back on our days at MCKK. Indeed, the
rest of the world may be rushing by at breakneck speed, but we Budak
Kolej always have time for each other. We have respect bordering on awe
for our seniors and patience and a fatherly eye for our juniors. We all
have time for each other.
I know that every time I power on my PC, there will be something of
MCKK there for me. The batch I belong to has a website for idle chatter
and bantering, but also thoughts about national and global issues
and—most important of all—the grandchildren you just saw the weekend
before last.
I am truly blessed that my late father had the foresight to send me
to MCKK. I am the better for it. What I am today has been the product of
the education and the friendships I acquired and nurtured from Kolej
days. Old boys have shaped, pushed and assisted me to make me the person
I am today. For that I am grateful. Fiat Sapientia Virtus.
CT Ali is a reformist who believes in Pakatan Rakyat’s ideologies. He is a FMT columnist.
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