In the late 1940s we were living in a slum at Ang Seng Road. Our neighbours were people like the taxi driver, cattle rearer-cum-milk vendor, and labourers, among others, while my father was a government clerk.

There was also a Malayan Railways engine driver and his family. In those days they were given the exalted title of engineer.

Those days, too, his was one of the most dangerous of callings as was the police jungle patrol in which one of my uncles was a wireless operator. For the uninitiated, wireless was English while radio American and we were still a British colony.

The engineer and his family kept very much themselves.

One reason why my memory still retains him is that for several months whenever he was home from work, wails of grief, terror and misery tore from his throat shattering the night. His was a tortured soul.

The trains he drove ran on coal-fired steam. The driver's assistant who shovelled the coal to feed the fire was known as the fireman.
My neighbour and his colleagues had on quite a few occasions escaped physically unscathed but emotionally scarred when their trains came under communist attack.

However, the main reason for his demonic screams must have been the horrendous incident when his train was derailed and the glowing coals covered his assistant like a blanket. He died in screaming agony, we were told.

One day the engineer packed up his belongings, took his family and his haunting and left, never to be heard of again. Perhaps he was finally allocated railway quarters.

Kept the life-line going

People like him as well as those who built the network of roads kept the country's life-line going during the communist insurgency.

In fact most of the railway staff including the repair crews, as well as road workers, was of Indian origin. They were not just rubber tappers. They were also heavily represented in the civil service.

Since the railways provided a vital network throughout Malaya for moving people and goods it was a prime target for the Malayan Communist Party; as were the roads that wound through jungle terrain for most parts of the journey - the most famous victim being the then High Commissioner for Malaya, Sir Henry Gurney the de facto ruler of the country.

My maternal uncle joined the police force in the early 1950s; the insurgency was in full steam by then, to be absorbed into the jungle squad after a training stint.

Their mission was to patrol deep in the jungles on the hunt for communists. They were accompanied by members of the Senoi Praak, the Orang Asli who were naturally expert trackers and scouts with their intimate knowledge of the jungle.

The three prime targets for the communists to take out, preferably simultaneously, were the British police lieutenant who was the patrol leader, the bren-gunner (a form of machine gun) and the wireless operator, for obvious reasons.

One dramatic story my uncle recalled was about the time when he was lying on a camp bed in the tent shivering from a bout of malaria when gunshots rang out. He was down on the ground in double quick time.

Lifting his head, he saw the lieutenant standing with a smoking pistol in his hand and, a little distance away a communist lay dying as he bled from his wounds.

Apparently, the lieutenant had gone to a nearby pool for a quick bath but on spotting some human spoors, which led him back to a man taking aim with his rifle.

He also showed us black and white prints of dead communists with eyes closed and mouths agape, placed against tree trunks and won our adoration and awe.

Lack of opportunities

Uncle also related another incident when their patrol went past a rubber small holding on the fringes of a jungle, when their eyes fell on a Chinese couple tied to a tree.

Their throats had been cut open with their own saw; a gruesome punishment for the mere suspicion of being government informers.

The lack of opportunities in the wake of the Second World War that had economically exhausted most countries drove most people to take up such jobs with not much available.

At that time work became a more than precious commodity. But the work grew on them like second skins and defined their lives.

I had some knowledge about communists, who were referred to as communist bandits or Reds, as their harassment was what forced my father to abandon his job as the manager of the small rubber estate in Johor to Ang Seng Road.

It was there he landed a job at the Food Control Department. Which seems like poetic justice for that department was dedicated to restricting the illicit supply of food to communist fighters.

And who of my generation could forget the small group of Malay men from the security forces Regiment who fought the communists to the last man at Gua Musang, Kelantan.

There is another person who infiltrated the communist ranks as a double agent and apparently escaped by the skin of his teeth.

He was awarded the George Cross, the civilian version of the Victoria Cross. A portrait of his in full dress uniform with all his gongs appeared in the St Xavier's Institution annual school magazine of 1962 or 63 when I was a student there.

His name was Sambanthanmurthi. I cannot recollect his initial. He later became a Federal Counsel.

Sambanthanmurthi must have been a Special Branch officer which had a significant percentage of Chinese.

Nazri’s remarks

Over the years blood has been shed for this country by members of all races which include the time of Konfrantasi launched by Indonesia against the new born Malaysia in 1964.

In large part these lives remain unchronicled or celebrated. The salt of the earth.

At the ground level, people do get along fine. And they do marry into each other's community despite all the stresses and strains stirred up by politicians.

Side-note: There were interesting remarks from the Minister in the Prime Minister's Department Nazri Abdul Aziz when asked to comment on former deputy prime minister Anwar Ibrahim's open support for the Hindraf rally when on a visit to India.

Nazri reportedly described Anwar as an opportunist and his India visit a ploy to become the new champion of the Indian community.

“Even as deputy prime minister he did not champion the cause of the Indian community and I know what his feelings were towards the Indians then,” he was reported to have told reporters at the Parliament lobby on Dec 4.

I find the remarks fascinating for the insight they provide.

For Nazri to know Anwar's feeling the latter must have openly expressed them. The clear implication is the remarks were negative. Which means the existence of such feelings at the highest level. How widespread we cannot say for certain.

The description of Anwar being an opportunist. Oh, come on Datuk Seri. He is a politician after all.

As I was writing this piece this stray thought floated through the mind. Couple of million years ago two black African couple become mankind's common parents.

Wherever they are now, they must be regretting and wondering why their venturesome ancestors ever come down from the trees.