My Lineage III; My Dad as an orphan boy

(My dad at his work-station)

My dad was only ten years old when his father passed away. It was a terrible day for him and since then his life was never been a happy one until he married my mum. As an orphan, my dad had led a bitter life. I was sad to learn about his childhood life from my mum who witnessed it.

(My parents in late 1960s)

After Grandpa Rawi's death, my dad continued his studies at Madrasah Alsagof for a short while. When Grandma Asmaniah could no longer afford to maintain my dad's education, he stopped attending classes and finally he dropped out of school. From then onwards my dad used to resort help from a friend younger than him, whenever he needed assistance in writing; to construct simple sentences or to spell certain words. Little that he knew, this young friend of his, would one day be part of his family.

(My Mum as a student in 1950s)

 

My mum was that particular childhood friend of my dad. She had helped my dad a lot; from academic knowledge, to building their own family, to maintaining a beautiful home filled with happiness full of sunshine and love. My dad was a responsible and caring husband to my mum. He was a wonderful father to his children. The memory of him always make me cry and at this very moment as I am writing about him, my eyes are teary. I can never forget his words advising me to always be kind to children, especially orphans and to give some amount of money to his sisters at least S$10.00 during payday. Those were the last few spoken words of my dad to me, few days before he passed away in 1982.

 

(A family Photo in 1977)

 

I was told that as an orphan boy, my dad was often been mistreated. He was seen as a mischievous boy who dropped out of school and did not have a father to discipline him. Most of the people around my dad were too quick to criticise him. They were unwilling to guide or educate him; not bothered to assist or to guide an orphan to be a fine individual. The only helped that my dad received was from Almighty Allah and his sisters. It was due to Almighty Allah's grace and guidance that my dad grew-up to be a true Muslim.

 

(My dad's relatives... I was carried by my dad's nephew, the son of my dad's cousin, whom I called Uncle Rasaid...in 1964)

 

Even though my dad received ill treatments from some of his relatives during his childhood, he still maintained close ties with them. I remembered the day he brought me along to visit one of his relative whom one of the leg was swollen and could not walk properly, yet still struggling to earn a living by selling noodles. As we were walking away from the food stall towards the bus-stop, I asked my dad, ''Pa, who was the man you were talking to? What happened to him? Why he has a swollen leg?''. My dad told me that the man was his ex-brother-in-law and the swollen leg was the retribution of mistreating an orphan. I related to my mum about the visit and asked her whether she knew about the orphan that my dad was referring to. She told me that the boy was my dad. She said that the man with the swollen leg often woke my dad using his leg simply to command my dad to wash his employer's car. My mum continued telling me of my dad's sad childhood life. That was the first time I came to know that my dad was an orphan before.

 

(Aunt Jamaliah and her family in 1950s)

 

After Grandma Asmaniah remarried, my dad lived with his second oldest sister, Aunt Jamaliah. Her husband was a cook in a ship. They were very kind to him. My dad loved Aunt Jamaliah the most among his siblings. She was like a second mother to him. They lived at Kampong Amber, a kampong at Katong area where quite a number of Singaporean Baweanese used to live. Like my dad, I too love Aunt Jamaliah very much. She will always be remembered by this niece, for all her kindness, especially in taking care of my dad when he was an orphan, arranged his wedding and supported him in whatever he pursued. May Almighty Allah reward her accordingly for being a caring sister to my dad and a wonderful aunt to me. Aameen.

 

(This write-up is dedicated to my beloved late Dad, my Mum and Aunt Jamaliah. )