A trip is when one’s goes on a journey, and comes back again. However, it was marked difference as my trip would be more or less, a journey of life.This so-called journey started on 20th Oct 1989. It was a boisterous day in Maktab Perguruan Ipoh (MPIP), particularly unit E. I was startled by the news, when 18 trainees and I were been listed to be duty-bound in Sabah and Sarawak. If my memory served me right, Adullah, Sahridan, Daud, Marzuki, Idrus and myself were given the ‘surat penempatan’ earlier to resolve our passport and credentialed matters.
The relocation was indeed brought vexation on me, especially when thought of leaving my parents, younger brothers and sister for an uncertain period of time. Anyhow, I had no choice but to take it as a challenge.
On 5th Dec 1989, soon after the 2-day briefings at Tabung Haji Kelana Jaya Complex in Selangor, the rest of teachers and I were sent to Subang International Airport. I then alighted from the plane in Sarawak for my first posting, whereby it was my first real flight as well.
Sarawak was burst with forests and rivers when I gazed at its distance view from the plane. That was a worrying matter to me. I kept wonder where my school would be situated?
After reaching Kuching Airport, I felt a bit relief when we were cordially welcomed by the officer from Pendidikan Jabatan Pelajaran Negeri. We were then brought to Pusat Latihan Telecom. There, another briefing regard to the ethnic, local culture and custom, was conducted for us. It was a tranquil evening there. Marzuki and Daud were my only buddies left from MPIP. We shared the same room in Semariang, though we hardly hold any conversation. Most likely we were tired and scared. We felt tedious as very few public phone services could be found there.
The ‘surat penempatan’ was rendered to us on 8th Dec. Regrettably I was to be reported for duty at SRK Bawang Tian in Matu/Daro district. Unlike Marzuki and Daud, luck was on their side as they were just posted around Kuching. From the map, I realized that my school was located in a far-off land from the town. It must require a long journey to get there.
That very night, I was given the ferry ticket to Sarikei. Although the trip departed at 6 a.m., I had to be well prepared (much) earlier and head off by 4 a.m., from Pusat Latihan Telecom to the jetty. Before my departure, both Daud and Marzuki were still slept soundly. They only needed to leave for their school at 9 a.m. That was the last time I saw them, and up until now, we merely keep correspond with each others via letters.
I set off my journey to Sarikei at 6 a.m. sharp. There were not many passengers in the ferry –‘Bahagia Nombor 1’, the first ferry I had aboard. Even though the journey took around 2 hours, it was too long to me somehow –to sail through Sungai Batang to South China Sea, and finally arrived at Sungai Rajang.
Sungai Batang was also well known as “Bujang Senang”, which named according to a myth of the crocodiles in Sarawak. It was a tempestuous South China Sea in December, and I was seasick almost at once. Things only got better after the ferry had reached Sungai Rajang.
It was, nevertheless, looked deserted when I finally arrived at Sarikei jetty. To my surprise, it turned out that the journey to Matu/Daro district entailed another 2 more boat-ride. Unfortunately, I missed the boat to Daro, a small town before it. Therefore, I was forced to stay overnight at Payangpuri Sarikei Hotel. Though Sarikei might seemed like a small town, it was equipped with every requisites, e.g. bank, offices and even a KFC restaurant!
In the next morning, I started off my journey again with thrills and spills. It only took me 3 hours to get there through a speed boat. Yet, it would had been cheaper if I had taken an express-boat (RM18) in stead of what I was paying –RM30!
At last I came to Daro. It was certainly not a big township, but possessed the capital construction, such as shops and offices. Vehicles, nonetheless, were only a very few on the road. What is more, the local residents, Melanau, were very friendly with me. Possibly they knew that I am Malay, in whom spoken and cultured differently. Being here, was alike an Indonesian in MPIP –everyone knows for sure where you are exactly from!
From Daro I then departed to Matu. In order to get there, I had no any alternative ways but to ride on a long boat, which was roofless and dangled with an engine. Deep roots and exuberant foliage swathed the river bank. The boat, once a while, got stuck along the narrow river. The passengers were jabbering away on the boat, and it made me wonder if they were really talking about me? At the age of 21, I was scrawny, looked very drawn, and burning with curiosity about how my school would be liked. The longer the journey went on, the fewer the passengers remained. At the end, there was not many left, except the driver and I.
By the time I reached to Matu, I was scrutinized by the crowd at the jetty somehow or other. It was indeed a very small town, much smaller than Daro. The distance between Matu and Kampung Tian (where my school was located) was approximately 10km. As chance would have it, I was taken there by a motorcyclist, who stayed in that village.
After arriving at my school, the classes had already ended. Only a few school workers were left there. I was served with some food, but my fatigue had spoiled my appetite. Ckgu Izani, my housemate from Kelantan who was married with a daughter, had served there for 5 continuous years. The first night was deadly still –poor broadcast channel etc.
Kampung Tian was a rather small yet teeming village. It was loaded with houses, but 30% of them were indwelled. The river was the only way through the town –consequently boats were easily come into view. Most of the villagers here made their living as farmers.
My school was quite small too, with merely 150 pupils and 16 teachers. The buildings were all wooden-built. 5 units of livings quarters for teachers were constructed by PIBG. An electric current was based at a pneumatic machine. The water supply system, confined to cooking, was kept in 3 oversized water tanks. Rivers became the only source where we had our bath.
Hence, I earned my living there as a teacher. I taught Bahasa Melayu for the Year 3. Though they seemed to like me, I encountered a language problem. They had not yet learned to master the language, and consequently I had to spend a great deal of time in every lesson. Luckily, my colleagues had been a real help to me.
After a couple of months, I moved into one of the livings quarters for teachers –given me a better freedom than before. However, as a warden, I had to claim my responsibility for all pupils in the school hostel. The rental and meals were for free, except I had to be all alone in weekends without any pupils around.
I finally got my pay, 3 months after my service in SRK Bawang Tian. On that day, the headmaster accompanied by some teachers, had went to receive our payroll in Pejabat Daerah. Soon after the classes dismissed, we queued in front of the headmaster’s office for our payroll –in cash!
I started to make acquaintances of a very few teachers who were from peninsula Malaysia but posted to Matu. It had then become a matter of routine for us to meet up during Saturdays there.
The residents here accepted me with open arms. My football skill was being applied to the adolescents so that I could get the chance to know them better. I enjoyed every minute as I began to find it easy to make friends with the Melanau. They frequently invited me to pay a visit to their farms, stay overnight at their houses and so forth. Of course, I did gladly accept their invitations once a while.
It was an exhilarating sight when it comes to an Islamic festival. Gifts or pastries would often be sent to me in appreciation of my service here. It had not stopped me missing my family in peninsula Malaysia, though.
My other colleagues and I had gained confidence in our abilities, in time. A few teachers were posted to my school, and one of them, an ‘ustaz’, whom I owed him a favor. He had really helped out to lift the burden from my shoulders as a warden. He was also a man with many interesting stories to tell.
Major changes were made time after time. There had been significant developments with asphalt road built, connecting Matu to Daro. The construction had taken 2 years, which were my last 2 years here as well. During that time, Cikgu Izani had been successfully transferred to Pasir Mas, Kelantan.
In 1993, my application for a transfer to peninsula Malaysia had finally approved. I was racked with guilt as I had taken somebody to my heart. Still, I had to go back. I was needed in peninsula Malaysia. I guessed that I would come and go as a single man.
I returned to my hometown, Perak, at the end of the year. Things certainly had changed –no more loneness, Melanau language or boat trips up the river. Likewise, I could get the newspapers as early as 7 a.m. I tried to contact my mates from the college but not all were reachable.
In 15th Jan 2007, approximately 10.30 a.m., there stood a doddering man in front of the IPIP hall. He examined his surroundings, and astonishingly discovered things had changed for better. Yes! I finally came back to IPIP (formerly known as MPIP) for a 14-week down memory lane! At the age of 40, I stepped into IPIP again, after my grief of parting, 20 years ago. But now, of course –I am a father of 3 children from my marriage to a Melanau lady.
