Black 13

So for Malaysian Studies I did some last minute work for our assignment, May 13th 1969. Yes, not many know of this day. Not many were old enough to remember or elders just dont tell us as they are scared we're repeat our mistakes. But isn't history full of mistakes? We read about these mistakes so we dont repeat these mistakes. Anyhu... Here are some personal points of view during May 13th.


I was deeply touched by all of them. Believe it or not, I was in tears just by reading them.




I was then a nine-year-old son of an FRU policeman. We lived at the Police Depot at Jalan Gurney, Kuala Lumpur.
Even at my age then, it was clear to me that larger forces were at work in this terrible incident.

From our house in the Depot, we saw fires burning on the first two nights in the Batu Road (Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman) area – proof for me that the Chinese were attacked first. It was only on the third night when the fires appeared in a different part of the sky – over the Datuk Keramat and Kampung Baru areas.

Anyway, as we grew up, this subject came up many times and it was always clear to most people I met that the Chinese were attacked first.

I was also witness to another phenomenon that backs up an observation in the documents.

Around May 13, the older sons of many of my Malay neighbours were not be seen and they only returned days later. It was all hush-hush but their younger brothers told me that they were asked to assemble at residence of Harun Idris. From the way they behaved when they returned, I was led to believe that they had participated in the riots.

My father spoke harshly of the soldiers too. When the FRU men were sent out, many of the areas they went to had earlier been visited by the soldiers and the residents (or what were left of them) tearfully told stories of how the soldiers joined the Malays in attacking them.

Friends I met years later in Malacca also told me that soldiers had fired into shophouses in Jalan Bunga Raya for no reason. I have heard lots of other anecdotes too. Many Malaysians would have been personally affected by this tragedy. Maybe this would a good time for them to come forward and share their recollections.

The publication of these truths is long overdue. I hope it will lead to the different races of this country becoming more aware of how they are being manipulated to keep a select group of people in power.

So many innocent people died during those tragic days just so that power remained in the hands of the perpetrators. Datuk Harun (and I always believed this was due to divine retribution) never led a happy life after that incident. That fact is well-documented. I’m sure God would have punished the others too, whoever they are.

Another One


I was in class ( Form Six ) at a school in PJ, BBBS in Section 14. Totally oblivious of what was happening. This was then called FEC or Further Education School. Not one of us knew what was just about happening.

After class, I walked with my sisters, as usual, to the bust depot, about a 10-minute walk. That was when things didn’t seem right. There were no buses there. But we, along with others, waited, not long though. Nightfall was approaching.

It was the weirdest feeling I had ever felt …. All very quiet. No buses, then I realized there were no cars on the roads too!

Then the first bus came …. And as far as I can remember, the only noise was the sound of the bus.

We saw the passengers in the bus …. All with blood, some on their faces. To this day I can still picture a Chinese woman, in her 40s I believe, in the bus, holding some kind of a cloth on her face. Her face was covered with blood and all of them were rushing out of the bus.

We still did not know what the heck was happening. Then the passengers told us … still not knowing it was a racial clash between the Malays and the Chinese.

All innocent people in vehicles coming from Bangsar to PJ ….. no chance for them …. As they were stopped by the Kampung Kerenchi mob. Some who knew just zoomed past. Others were all slaughtered. One pregnant woman was massacred. No one was spared by these angry mob.

Kampung Kerenchi was like 10 minutes away from the bus depot. I don’t know how that bus went past but windows were smashed and people in it were hurt . I guess the driver rammed through the mob, only way to get past.

You could not escape going through the Federal Highway without passing and facing the wrath of the inhabitants of Kampung Kerenchi.

It took us all quite a while to realize what exactly was happening. It was a horrible sight. My sisters were there and we had no transport …. The mob may arrive …. All kinds of thoughts raced across my mind. I told my sisters to wait in a hidden place while I ran …. non-stop ( about 4-5 miles ) back home to tell and ask my father to pick them up.

I will never forget that run. As I ran, I started looking everywhere, behind, sideways, in front, to see if there was a mob of any kind.

We didn’t have the luxury of owning a cell phone then.

I managed to reach home and my father drove immediately to the place with me, to pick up my sisters. I thank God all of us were safe.

I think it was a couple of days later when a Curfew was imposed. Shops closed. Then after a few days, the curfew was lifted for an hour for all to get provisions.

I was living in Jalan Gasing at that time. Imagine, curfew and some of us got together and sneaked to another friend’s place, across the road …. Just to play gin rummy! We went there commando style. Heard and saw an army truck ( with orders to shoot to kill ), ducked amongst the lalang and crept to the house and we did the same thing returning home!

What I wrote is a summary. What is more important is, I too, as everyone else do not know who started it all.

Some would say, the idiots in politics.


Lastly



I was teaching in the Klang valley at the time, and was returning home after a badminton game when I saw the Tunku wept on TV. My heart went out to him. I noticed the tearful eyes of my roommate, a teacher from Kedah.

Some local gangsters came to our house to advise us to be ready with any weapon we could find, such as iron pipes. We were to signal any attack by beating pots and pans. That night I heard the security forces shouting at someone at the end of our block, asking him to "keluar."

The next day I heard gunshots somewhere near a theater: someone with a gun was holed up in his room. He later shot himself, I think.

The Malays were also frightened: parents arrived at the urban school wanting to take their children back because of a rumor that the Chinese were going to attack their children. The HM was absent and I refused their request. So did my Chinese and Indian colleagues until the lessons were over and then, as promised, we escorted the children passed the mainly Chinese shops to the city bus station. For the first time I was scared my own people would do something stupid.

A few days later a Chinese bus driver was stabbed to death somewhere near Shah Alam. Some houses near Meru, some miles from Klang, were burned and looted.

Later, I heard my elder brother was in the KL theater that was sprayed by the army's machine guns. I heard about a New Zealand nurse raped by some kampung hot heads - wondered if they were Harun's people. Things quietened down when the troops were replaced by the Sarawak Rangers.

In the aftermath I told my largely kampung students that while the communities were attacking one another, their leaders were having durian parties. But stupid people, especially the town Chinese, were talking about boycotting the Malay durian sellers. I told the few Chinese students to realize that this was a struggle between politicians and they should not be used as pawns.


My heart went to to each and everyone of them. The suffering they went through. Now you know why I say, race & religion are unnescessary borders... They cause nothing but pain and anguish.

Palms leaves, like blades (May 13, 1969)
Curfew: from the walnut cabinet
the test pattern’s squealing note.
Tuning the wireless past that
wailing from another planet.
Sirens whooping –
polis or ambulance? –
screaming … then silence [ ]
.
Banana palms clatter, like blades.
Blades falling – a bad dreaming,
a scene from nowhere, everywhere.
Clouds, like smoke.
Monkeys, like sirens.
Palms, like blades
chopping through the air.

It's a regrettable incident... have a prayer for those who were innocent. Don't forget May 13th 1969

These are my thoughts and views. If it really offends you, either you are a pushover or just a freaking baby, grow up