Mustapha Besar Childhood Days Revisited 1985

in 1985, Mustapha was on the Editorial Board of Sarawak Gazette, the precinct of Colonial Officers before 1963. The Chief Editor was Dr. Yusoff Haji Hanifar, Adi was in charge of Personalities, and Mustapha , Public Enterprise.

In April 1985, we were fortunate enough to be able buy a copy of the Sarawak Gazette (Only available in Kuching) and read with a lot of nostalgia, his article, Childhood Days Revisited.

Here I am copying the whole story because I feel that his story must be shared here, if not in the book. If members agree, this would be a fine piece. David please copy and paste into the file of ex-tanjong.

I hope I am not contravening any law regarding copyright. I just want my friend to be featured. This is a gesture which I can make....he had had so many other accolades....and I would like you to have a share in knowing Limbang and part of Mustapha's childhood in the 50's.

Here goes from Page 37, April 1985, Sarawak Gazette

Childhood Days - Revisited by Mustapha Besar (Deputy Manager, Land Custody and Development Authority)

What prompted me to write this I am not sure. Perhaps it was of all the changes that have takenplace or the seemingly new face of the town, or was it the many people I met whom I failed to recognise. Perhaps it was merely nostalgia.I do not think that I would like to turn the clock back but I certainly have fond memories of that serene little town and that small kampung I grew up in.

Perhaps the trouble was I spent very little part of my growing up years inKampung Sialok (or Kampung Sekolah Melayu as it ws better known). As early as 9 years old I was already attending a boarding school (TLS) in Miri. But it didn't matter though for whatever time I had during those trouble free days everything seemed perfect for a young boy who had all the time to play his favourite games among his peers. Indeed there never was a shortage of peers then. There were Kifli,Tuah and ahmad next door,Amin a few houses away, Jamil and Bonsu and a few others acorss the road.

Our domain was that small enclave through which taversed a gravel road which wound its way under the sahde of the overhanging branches of the rubber trees. The trees never grew straight up but always at an incline over the road,a nd when they began to shed their fruits we would collect the shells and seeds scattered everywhere. This domainw as bordered by the padi field on the East and the river ont he West. Both the padi field and the river were constant meetingplaces of our group, whether at work or at play - more perhpas to plan than to work.

The road I am talking about is the Buangsiol road or rather that part of it that ran from the small wooden bridge over the Sungai Bangkita to the Sekolah Dato'Moashili. In today's term that would cover the area from the District Council Building all the way to the Central Malay School - a whole 200 yards or so. It seemed quite long then, and we never dare go beyond the demarcation lest we would incur the wrath of our parents or be subjected to the teasing remarks of other groups of the other Kampungs.

That day I was walking through the very same stretch of road. I was then on an official visit to the town and was heading towards the District Office after having disembarked from the express boat at the Immigration landing point. A few family faces greeted me while many others went on their way. I passed the District Council building and noticed many an aspiring drivers learning to do their "L" parking or parallel parking by the building. Many others were standing around and waiting for their turn at the wheel.

On my left was the Chinese Temple with the readial red walls and mural. Further down on my right was the mosque, a pride of the Muslim community when it was first built but which has since been outgrownby the population. I walked further and before me were a few three storey buildings which served either as commercial, light industrial or residential tenements. Across the road from them and besides he mosque were new blocks of primary school building (the Central Malay School). Just across the road from this primary school used to stand a wooden house with attap roof, a house where I was born and raised.

I stopped a while and looked towards the same direction. I wondered what happened to all the rubber trees and the bamboo hedge which separated the piece of land from the road. I used to collect latex fromthose trees,a ndw e used to play hide and seek behind the bamboo hedge. My mind wantdered and I was back in the old kampung standing by the road side watching people on their way back on foot. Bicycles then were a luxury. In the Kampung only Pak Salleh next door owned a Raleigh - the pride of the family.

On the easern side of that whole stretch of road which I just passed, a row of wooden houses (about wo in all) used to stand. They were all on stilts and accessible from the roa only by small wooden briges. They were raised on stilts as they built on the periphery of the padi fields. This stretch of road was every exciting to me especially during Hari Raya the whole kampung would shimmer under the flikering lights of kerosene lamps made of bamboo placed along the railing of the wooden bridges. It was a real spectacle for me.


To be continued.