Till we meet again, Ayah

Ayah with the Tun

Ayah would have turned 72 today. I shall never forget the moment Kak Lin broke the news that Ayah had passed away suddenly, slightly after midnight Dec 20, 1997, 20 Syaaban, 1418.

Hours earlier, shock and sadness enveloped Balai Berita after we were told that former sports editor and renowned writer, Mansoor Rahman, had died of a heart attack while playing tennis.

Mansoor was generous with his encouraging words to me ever since I introduced myself to him in 1991. By right I should be making my way to his residence to pay my last respects. Somehow something was holding me back. I was reluctant to move away from my chair at the subs desk of the Malay Mail.

Husin Rahman, acknowledged as one of the greatest sportswriters of his generation, was asking me “hey come lah, let’s pay our last respects to Mansoor!” The call went unheeded.

It was sometime before 1.0am that I got the call, over extension 3473. No Twitter, no Facebook and of course e-mail was still a foreign word to most Malaysians at that time.

“Adik…(it was Kak Lin on the other line)…in between sobs…Ayah dah tak de (brother, Ayah has gone)…

My world came to a crushing halt. I felt numb. I was lifeless. My mind went blank. Thankfully Husin was there for me. It was Husin who drove me home in my Suzuki Swift. It usually took me 20 minutes to reach home but the trip lasted like a life time.

Ayah died in his sleep. Peacefully, without creating any fuss for his kids. The whole family made the trip to Yong Peng and eventually Kampung Sengkuang, Sri Gading, for the burial. With us was our late Atok who was inconsolable. Mak, her daughter, passed away at the age of 51 three years earlier.

More than 1,000 people from all walks of life paid their last respects to Ayah the next morning. There was a slight drizzle as Ayah’s body was laid to rest.

Ayah was a strict father. While my younger brother Man was the ever filial son, I was the loose cannon of the family, uttering words to Mak and Ayah which are not fit for print here. As a result I often felt the brunt of his loose buckle.

But months prior to his demise, I felt as if I was beginning to renew the bond Ayah and I had while I was in my childhood.

We talked about politics and life in general.

I remember as soon as I could talk, he taught me to memorise the name of my great grandparents by hard – Muhammad Rizal bin Hashim bin Mian bin Sulong bin Gantang bin Bontak…his way of telling me our lineage and roots.

“Ayah dulu pergi sekolah jalan kaki dan kaki ayam saja…zaman Jepun. Riz sekarang beruntung. Ingat. (I walked barefooted to school during the Japanese Occupation…remember you are very lucky)

“Riz kena jaga adik-beradik, siapa lagi nak jaga kalau bukan kita” (You have to take care of your siblings or else who would?”

Being an avid fan of sports, counting tennis, football and badminton as his favourite sports and a qualified level 3 referee, Ayah was supportive of my sporting pursuits though he must have realised I was not cut out for the rigours of the sporting world.

I remember the day when Sheldon Xavier, now a media personality, keeping goal, Zaimi Ridzwan and Harishah Shaari manning the engine room and Acis the musician in attack, representing St Johns 1 and playing SK Padang Tembak at their backyard in 1982.

I was fielded as a right-back by coach Cikgu Azmi. But I was a nervous wreck throughout the game and was eventually replaced. Ayah who was standing behind the goal without me realising, looked disappointed. He took time off to see with his own eyes how I made a fool of myself.

On the few occasions I did manage to make him proud, I did go on stage on Awards Day twice – once as a member of the winning-side in the inter-class football competition, and once as the most improved student in English.

Man who often accompanied Ayah wherever he went, is a blessed child. Man was the winner of the Lembaga Tabung Haji Award and the Tan Sri Kadir Award, as best student for Bachelor of Laws and best student for Bachelor of Laws (Syariah) of the IIUM, as reported by the New Straits Times in November 1997. His convocation was held 26 days before Ayah made the journey to the next life. Mak was pronounced dead shortly after Man recited a few verses of Yaasin at the Kuala Lumpur Hospital on Oct 31, 1994.

The good son and loose cannon

Still, Ayah and Mak nourished my passion for football. They knew when I locked myself inside my room, I was not doing arithmetic or memorizing scientific terms. Instead I let my mind wander and draw figures playing football. I even came up with my own clubs and designs for jerseys.

Football and art, combined

Ayah and Mak would buy me football books, most of them still in mint condition, and replica jerseys from their travels.

Dear Ayah, I am now blessed with a beautiful wife and three boisterous kids, who one day may prove to be a handful as God’s way of testing me for all my sins against Ayah and Mak.

Ayah's grandchildren he never got to meet

May we meet each other in the Hereafter. In the meantime Ayah, rest in peace and may your soul be shown the door to eternal paradise. Al-Fatihah.

The latest addition to the family, Man and Adilah's bundle of joy who was delivered to them after a five-year wait, on Ayah's birthday - 090909 - at the hospital of which Man served as the secretary of the board chaired by Tan Sri Hassan Marican