Jackie Tang Heam Peng (1954-2025)

This January has been a truly torrid month for us former Westlanders, Class of 1965. As we were still reeling from the loss of our two dear 70-year-old friends, Oon Hup and Seng Oo, who passed away on the third and fourth of the month respectively, news came last Thursday, the 23rd, of yet another classmate's death.

I must admit, I did not know Tang Heam Peng well. In fact, I believe the last time I saw him was during our school days at Penang Free School, sometime in the latter half of the 1960s. We lost touch after that and never crossed paths again, though mutual friends occasionally spoke of him, mentioning his early career in London, where he ran an outlet of Ladbrokes, the gaming company, and shared stories of meeting him either in London or in Singapore, where his daughter lived.

In his younger days, Heam Peng was known for his skill in horse riding, a passion nurtured by his father, who owned a racing stable. Friends recall seeing him ride horses at the Polo Ground in Sepoy Lines, near the Penang Sports Club.

Tragically, Heam Peng, also 70 years old, suffered a heart attack on Thursday evening, just about a month after having a pacemaker implanted. Although paramedics made valiant efforts to revive him, he never regained consciousness.

Three old classmates, all the same age, gone in the space of a single month. This January has been a harsh and poignant reminder of life's fragility.

Challenge yourself to succeed

Khoo Yeoh Gan Hong knew both my wife and I

Khoo Yeoh Gan Hong (born May 1928, died January 2025) was one of those larger-than-life figures who left an indelible mark on everyone who knew him. A staunch member of The Old Frees' Association (OFA), he made it a point to attend the annual dinner on the 21st of October whenever possible, even well into his nineties. This nonagenarian's last appearance at the OFA annual dinner was just last year. Invited onto the stage by the management committee to join in the cake-cutting ceremony alongside past presidents and the guest of honour, he gamely accepted despite his unsteady gait, supported by a cane.

True to form, after being helped down from the stage, he surprised everyone by breaking into an impromptu speech, leaving the guest of honour stranded at the rostrum, waiting for this grand, then-96-year-old gentleman to finish. And finish he did—with a flourish, reciting a pantun to the delight of the audience:

Tenang tenang air di laut, 

Sampan koleh mudik ke Tanjung, 

Hati terkenang mulut tersebut, 

Budi yang baik rasa nak junjung.

Khoo's connection to Scouting began in 1940 when he joined as a Wolf Cub at Westlands School. After the Second World War, he continued his studies at Penang Free School, where he joined the Hamilton Scout Troop and remained until 1948. That same year, he was one of six Scouts selected to attend the Scout Jamboree in Melbourne, Australia—a trip he always described as the adventure of a lifetime. 

His dedication to scouting influenced his career choices. He applied to join the teaching profession primarily to continue his scouting journey as a Scoutmaster. In 1950, he became a teacher at Westlands School, where he also served as Scoutmaster. His passion and perseverance were rewarded in 1952 when he was selected for the Malayan Teachers’ Training College (MTTC) in Kirkby, Liverpool.

While in England, Khoo seized the opportunity to attend the internationally renowned Woodbadge Course at Gilwell Park near London, a rite of passage for dedicated Scoutmasters. In 1961, when Khoo returned to Kirkby for another training course, he attended the Training the Team Course at Gilwell Park, earning the distinction of Assistant Leader Trainer. He often credited his time at Gilwell for teaching him resourcefulness, leadership and the importance of earning respect to lead effectively.

His passion for youth development and Scouting led him to rise through the ranks, eventually serving as the president of the Penang State Youth Council and later as the Penang State Scout Commissioner. His contributions to youth leadership and Scouting left a lasting legacy in the community. In 2018, Khoo achieved yet another milestone when he was recognised as the oldest Scouter to receive the Bintang Kesetiaan Mutiara during the World Scouts Day award ceremony at the Ixora Hotel in Penang. It was a fitting tribute to his unwavering dedication to Scouting and youth leadership.

My wife had known him since the 1990s, when he was an appointed trainer of the Federation of Malaysian Manufacturers. However, I only got to know him personally in 2011 while co-editing Fidelis, the commemorative coffee table book for The Old Frees' Association. Knowing he was one of the association’s most senior members, I reached out to see if he might contribute to the book. True to his generous nature, he shared handwritten notes about his trip to the Scout Jamboree and asked me to clean up his story for publication. Later, he was effusive in his praise for my efforts. In truth, I did the minimal because I wasn't prepared to deviate much from his story. However, at every OFA annual dinner, he would proudly tell those around him, “This is the man who wrote my biography,” much to my mild embarrassment.

Sadly, such moments will no longer be a part of future gatherings. Khoo Yeoh Gan Hong passed away on the 20th of January at the remarkable age of 97. His presence, wit and spirit will be dearly missed.

As a tribute to Khoo Yeoh Gan Hong, I reproduce this story from Fidelis in 2012. I have made further refinements to it.

Challenge yourself to succeed

My life challenges began with the amazing trip to the Pan-Pacific Scout Jamboree in Australia from December 1948 to February 1949. As Troop Leader of First Penang (Hamilton), I had earned a place in the Penang Contingent. This was to be my proudest moment but towards the end of the year I was dropped when the officials realised that the boat would be leaving before the Cambridge Examinations would be over. I was aghast. I had paid my Jamboree fees and then was told that I could not go. To make matters worse, they forgot to refund me!

So there I was, grappling with the difficulties and difficult decisions of life: balancing the dilemma of studying to pass my examinations while brooding about literally missing the boat, saddled with the lack of a passport and also essentially, no funds.

I was in despair. Sometime later in a chance meeting with Mrs Seow Siew Jin, mother of Rodney Seow who was a fellow Scout in the Troop, became a turning point. Having related my predicament to her, expecting her sympathies, she simply asked, “Who said you cannot go?” 

Her words hit me like a lightning bolt. For the first time it dawned on me that I had allowed myself to be consumed with self-pity. I was already accepting defeat without searching for an alternative solution to my problem. This was not the Free School Spirit I had been imbued with. My years at Penang Free School would have counted for nothing if I did not try to rise above the challenge. I should not be talking about failure before I had even considered alternatives. This invaluable lesson of perseverance and resilience in the face of adversity remains with me till today. 

The moment I acknowledged that there was indeed a solution somewhere sparked off the whole machinery of re-discovering myself and me finally making it to the Jamboree. No money? Why, go raise new funds for the journey. The boat would leave before my examinations could end? Well, go find another ship to Australia! By challenging my mindset and embracing the problem, I quickly discovered my potential for leadership and resourcefulness. Today, I still remember the very many benefactors – Heah Joo Seang among them – who believed in me and went the extra mile to make my “Mission Impossible” possible. 

That I succeeded despite all the odds became a mini saga. I have to be grateful to the playing fields of Penang Free School for shaping me, developing my leadership and organisational skills. This is my life lesson that I wish to share with my fellow Old Frees and the present pupils of Penang Free School. In the depths of despair, there is always hope. Never give up but continue to challenge yourself, and success will follow. 

Celebrating departed old friends

In my opinion, the turnout could have been much better for this intimate gathering yesterday in the Penang Sports Club yesterday to celebrate the life of Oon Hup, who passed away earlier this month. Clearly, Oon Hup should have had more friends than this on Penang island! Surely, more than 50 years of friendship that began from schooldays should count for something, right? And yet....

Anyhow, among the few of us there, we spent well over three hours sharing memories of our departed comrade. Some of us also reminisced about Seng Oo, another old schoolmate we recently lost, and reflected on life and health. The sudden loss of two friends in such quick succession was deeply unsettling for everyone.

Throughout the conversation, we shared stories about Oon Hup and Seng Oo—their quirks, their lives and the times we spent together. Some had known them since Westlands Primary School, others only from Penang Free School, while a few knew them more recently. 

I took the opportunity to recount my recent encounter with Ajahn Siripanyo, who advised me to live the remainder of our lives as fully and meaningfully as possible. If anything, learn from both Oon Hup and Seng Oo who remind us how fragile life is, how little we know of the time we have left, and how important it is to cherish every moment.

Guided by this thought and led by Leslie, we came together in prayer for Oon Hup before moving to a simple lunch within the club premises. The event was organised at the request of his sister, Emily, to honour his lifelong friendships, and it was generously hosted by Leslie.

In the picture below, we have (from left to right): Yoong Koi, Hock Thiam, Sukumaran, Kay Liang, myself, Swee Poh and Letchmi, Emily, Sanan and Leslie. I had also earlier informed Emily of the apologies from Michael, Teik Wah, Guan Khim and Chien Ch'eng, who were unable to attend as they were either out of town or living overseas. But Guan Khim went a step further to connect through social media and spoke to everyone present.

Oon Hup and Seng Oo (1954-2025)

The turn of the year has been a sombre one for me. As I sat having lunch with friends at the Penang Club on 3rd January—and listening to an impromptu talk on Buddhism—a heavy thought lingered at the back of my mind: one of my closest school friends, Yeoh Oon Hup, was being cremated that very moment. A loyal OFA life member, Oon Hup had battled cancer for 11 months before passing away less than two months after his 70th birthday. He had requested no wake, choosing instead for his ashes to be scattered into the sea, a quiet farewell befitting his unassuming nature.

The very next day, 4th January, brought more devastating news. Another old schoolmate, Ang Seng Oo, passed away suddenly while on holiday in Busan, South Korea, less than three weeks after celebrating his 70th birthday. Seng Oo will be cremated in Busan, and his ashes will be brought home to Kuala Lumpur. The shock of losing two cherished friends—whom I had known since Standard Two at Westlands School—on consecutive days is indescribable. The sense of loss is profound, leaving me numb and grappling with the fragility of life.

These losses are not isolated. Over the past nine months, I have bid farewell to five school mates who had just crossed their 70th or 71st birthdays, Oon Hup and Seng Oo among them. Two were based in Penang and were OFA life members, while two others lived in Kuala Lumpur and one overseas in California. Each departure serves as a stark reminder of the significance of reaching 70—a milestone both physical and mental.

To all those still in your forties, fifties, or sixties, let me tell you this: cherish every moment of your life's journey. Reaching 70 is not just a number but a testament to resilience and fortune. And to those who have crossed this landmark age, treasure each day you have. We never know who among us might not see 71.

My dear friend Seng Oo, in particular, leaves behind a legacy of integrity and compassion. An accomplished accountant, he was deeply committed to issues of social justice, fairness and equality. He was never afraid to speak up against monopolies or political hegemony, often articulating his views with clarity and courage. His humour and camaraderie were equally memorable. It’s difficult to reconcile his untimely passing with the image of someone so vibrant and fit.

These losses weigh heavily, especially at the start of a new year. Yet, they also remind us of life’s impermanence and the need to cherish those around us. As we continue our journeys, let us remember to celebrate milestones, honour friendships and carry forward the legacies of those who have touched our lives.

Such is the progression of life and death—a poignant reminder that each day is a gift not to be taken for granted.

POSTSCRIPT: 

The three other schoolmates who passed away in the past nine months were Lee Keat Heng, Wong Ban Pak, and Kam Wei Lin.

Keat Heng and I shared a classroom in Standard One at Westlands School, but our educational paths diverged from Standard Two onwards. While I moved to an express class that skipped to Standard Four, he remained in the regular stream, advancing to Standard Three. This divergence meant that he became a year my junior at both Westlands School and Penang Free School. Due to this gap, our paths only crossed again in the last decade or so, allowing us to reconnect. Tragically, in May last year, just three days after celebrating his 70th birthday, he collapsed while jogging.

I came to know both Ban Pak and Wei Lin in Form One at secondary school. Ban Pak was, sadly, a rather irritable character. Though I loosely describe him as a "friend," he was not someone many would have stayed in close contact with. However, we did share a unique connection—we travelled to school together in a hired car. In those days, there were no school buses, and most parents couldn’t afford cars or the time to ferry their children to school personally. Instead, families relied on "school taxis," hired private cars who picked up students and dropped them off. By coincidence, Ban Pak and I shared the same school taxi. Every morning, the driver would pick me up before stopping at Ban Pak’s house on Bawasah Road. Ban Pak had a sharp eye for electronics and pursued a career in the field, eventually finding work and settling down in the United States after graduating. He passed away in June last year, leaving behind memories of our shared rides and a glimpse into a different era of schooling in Penang.

Wei Lin, on the other hand, was someone whose path intertwined with mine beyond Free School. After completing our studies, we both attended Tunku Abdul Rahman College in Petaling Jaya. Following his graduation, he joined Malaysia Customs, with an office conveniently located near Ban Hin Lee Bank. As a result, we often bumped into each other during that time. Unfortunately, in September, Wei Lin succumbed to septicaemia, a condition that claimed him far too soon.

Old farts talking cock

Old friends from our Westlands Primary schooldays gathered for a small chit-chat over dinner on Saturday night at one of Penang's oldest Hainanese seafood restaurants, the Ocean Green. The exact date when this restaurant began its business is uncertain, but there are indications that it could be some 40 to 50 years ago. Nevertheless, it sits on the seafront, directly in front of the Paramount Hotel, which had its beginnings after the Second World War. As the land on which the restaurant sits also belongs to the hotel's owners, I would presume that long before the restaurant was set up, this area fronting the hotel was used for catering functions, where the best-dressed baba-nyonya would turn up for dances and makan-makan sessions. When these activities became less popular in the late 1970s, the hotel owners decided to convert the vacant area into a dining area with a roof to shelter people from the elements. Even today, it attracts a large crowd of local diners, with their foreign or outstation guests in tow, for its delectable traditional Hainanese dishes such as choon piah, grilled spring chicken, satay and more. The seven of us old farts, with at least 490 years between us, spent close to three hours exchanging opinions, gossip and generally talking cock in the restaurant, and our wallets were thinner by some RM50 each. But it was time well spent as some of us had not seen one another for at least a year. Our opinions were, however, another matter as we were very certain that whatever we said, they surely won't change the world during our lifetime.

Ewe Leong, Chien Ch'eng, Seng Huat, Oon Hup, Siang Jin, Seng Huat and I

Farewell to three old friends

Three old friends passed away within six days - Yeoh Eng Hin, Thomas Khor and Lee Keat Heng - all coming as a shock to me. 

It's no fun living to be 100 when you are frail of mind and body. But it is still an immense achievement and for that, I applaud Yeoh Eng Hin to have lived until this ripe old age. This senior Life Member of The Old Frees' Association passed away on 12 April having attained this centenarian landmark. Frailty of body was a definite given but I do not know whether it had affected him in any other way as I had not met Yeoh in the last few decades of his life. In the 1970s, I used to be a frequent visitor to his record shop, known as Hinson, in Penang Road. I used to spend hours browsing through the interesting records he had stocked up.

Another OFA Life Member that passed away this week, on the 15th, was Thomas Khor, my old class teacher from the Westlands Primary School. Eighty-six years old when he died, I was taught by him exactly 60 years ago in Standard Five. For many years we lost touch but happened to reconnect after 2012 when I was starting work on Let the Aisles Proclaim. He was from Ipoh but at the time during or after the Japanese Occupation, his family made their way to Penang. He was a devout Catholic but instead of enrolling in St Xavier's Institution, he somehow found himself in Penang Free School. With some old school friends, we took him to revisit the old Westlands Primary School which today is a centre for sports excellence. Thomas Khor loved that visit and I could see his old familiar, spritely swagger return to his steps. He walked the length of the main building, climbed the stairs to the upper floor and peeked into the old classrooms. My last time seeing him was in the middle of last year at the New World Park food court. He was there with one of his sons, enjoying a meal when my friends and I spied him. And naturally, I went up to say hello. Old teachers must be appreciated. We grow up to become their friends.

Yesterday too, I learnt of the passing of Lee Keat Heng on the 17th. He was another Life Member of The Old Frees' Association. Understandably shocked by this news as only on Monday he was celebrating his 70th birthday. He was my classmate from Primary schooldays. Both of us had been placed in Standard 1E at Westlands but we parted company come the following year. Although we did not know one another very well as I went into an express class and he did not, the parting of ways could not hide the fact that Lee was one of my oldest school friends. We only began touching base again after the Free School's Bicentenary celebrations.

First reunion of the year

I was invited to join some friends from the PFS Class of 1971 for dinner last night on the island. Had a whale of a time renewing my acquaintance with the whole lot of them! Made some new friends too. Plus, there was the bonus of meeting up with a few former colleagues from my Straits Echo and Ban Hin Lee Bank days. Khoo Boo Teik and Balakrishnan gave interesting reminiscences about their time at Penang Free School but the spotlight belonged to Lim Guan Eng. Of course, he mentioned the recent General Election but he also talked about the setting up of the Penang Digital Library during his tenure as the Chief Minister here. To cap the occasion, I was asked by the host, Cheah Cheng Hye, to lead the Old Farts, I mean, the Old Frees through singing the School Rally. No decent Old Free would want to be seen with a copy of the lyrics and thankfully, none was required. I must have had led the singing with a lot of gusto because soon afterwards, someone suggested that I take up the microphone for a bit of karaoke session. Horrors! Not my cup-of-tea.

Incidentally during the after-dinner camaraderie session, Cheng Hye was mentioning Boo Kooi's point about we all belonging to the May 13th era. I reminded him not to forget that two years earlier in 1967, there was this hartal in Penang. He hadn't forgotten it, Cheng Hye said. In fact, he opened up to say that he was almost killed during the curfew period. At the tender age of 13, he was selling pineapples near the Sia Boey market after school hours. At the height of the hartal, he was rounded up and jailed for violating curfew. Seeing that he was a mere boy, he was released the next morning and given a curfew pass to allow him to return home. "I was terrified and kept holding up the pass above my head until I reached home," he recalled. 

In my opinion, the hartal shook Penang far greater than the May 13th incident. Initially meant to be a peaceful attempt, led by the Labour Party under Lim Kean Siew, to protest the devaluation of the old Malayan dollar and the rising inflation, thugs and gangsters emerged in great force to create havoc on the island. The City Council buses were singled out for stoning and mobs attempted to overturn them. The Police were unprepared for the violence and the Federal Reserve Unit (FRU) were called in to maintain the curfew.  

Now, just a little explanation how I ended up with this bunch of fellas from the Class of 1971. Agewise, I should belong with most of them. We had started our Standard One in one of the various primary schools in 1961 - I was at Westlands Primary - but because I landed in an express class in Standard Two, meaning I jumped to Standard Four in 1963, I ended my education a year ahead of them. But as I said, we are all generally of the same age despite me being one year their senior in the Free School. The marvel of last night's dinner was that I met two persons who were with me in the same Standard 1E class and therefore they counted as among my oldest of friends. Can you imagine that?

Cheng Hye bought five copies of Let the Aisles Proclaim from me in 2016. I simply had to give him a copy of Ten Thousand Prosperities this time.

Appreciating our teachers

Would you believe that this had been in the planning stage since last year? I mean, a makan session among us old boys of Westlands Primary School? But it never materialised because we were all scared shit about the Covid-19 virus. At that time, the delta virus was raging through the country and we were rather alarmed about the daily huge numbers of infections. So it was agreed with my co-organising friend that the reunion would be scheduled to a more appropriate time. 

It could have been indefinitely but fortunately, not. That time did arrive. In the last month or so, we talked about the lunch again and decided to go ahead with it at the Ocean Green Restaurant in Northam Road. Airy, open space with fan ventilation, not air-conditioned. What more to ask for?

However, only eight of us could make it to the lunch. Luckily, we were able to have two of our old Primary School teachers present. One was Liew Chen Tong who moved from class to class to teach the boys Chinese but I was a terrible student. The other was Tan Eng Chuan, my class teacher in Standard Six. When I first got to contact Tan Eng Chuan, he was so pleased and happy to speak to me. "You don't know the feeling," he explained, "when one of your old students talk to you." 

I guess primary school teachers do not get many invitations from their old pupils, unlike the secondary school teachers. When you are in secondary school, you are already more matured. There's more interaction with the secondary school teachers. Not so the primary school teachers. But somehow, my batch appreciates them. We've been trying to get in touch with as many as possible. Heck, I'm in touch with my kindergarten teacher as well! Only problem is that he stays in Seremban and I can't get to meet him. 

Nevertheless, there we were at the restaurant yesterday to meet these two old teachers, to reintroduce ourselves to them and to talk about the old times. Hopefully, we can do another session before the end of the year.

Seated were Liew Chen Tong (left) and Tan Eng Chuan (right). And us old buggers, left to right, Teik Wah, Chye Chye, Hock Siew, myself, Soo Heong, Oon Hup, Lip Chye and Chien Ch'eng.

An autobiography titled "𝑳𝒐𝒈"

I never got to ask David Hwang Hong Shi why he named his pictorial autobiography as Log but I was offered an answer by his wife, Molly Ooi. 

In his younger days, David had been a very active Scouter and he was a King's Scout from his schooldays at St George's Institution in Taiping. His interest in Scouting had continued throughout his working life, first as a Scout Master at Westlands (Primary) School in the 1950s and which carried through to Penang Free School in the 1960s and early 1970s, later at Westlands Secondary School until his retirement from government service, and finally at the International School of Uplands. The Scout movement will remember that they had to keep a log book of their activities and this was the reason why David's autobiography was simply called Log. 

The book chronicled his life's work from his schooldays till his final retirement as General Manager of Penang Club and then the founding of the Taman Sri Nibong Residents' Association. Log is privately produced and there is not more than 50 copies in print. I consider myself lucky to have received a copy. 

Actually, I visited the couple yesterday afternoon to collect it and we spent time reminiscing on the past: not that our careers crossed paths but he was already a school master at Penang Free School when I entered Form One in 1966. True to his outdoorsy lifestyle, he was a Physical Exercise teacher at the school. Fast forward later to 2012 when Molly and I were co-editors of FIDELIS, the coffee table book of The Old Frees' Association, David was always in the background to give advice on certain matters when required. That was when I got to know him well.

Draughts board

For the past months I have been going through my storeroom and cupboards, trying to clean out the unnecessary stuff -- books, magazines and chess tournament bulletins -- but finding it almost impossible. Too much clinging to my material belongings although I know that I do not need them any more. They are no longer of any practical use to me but the very thought of throwing or giving them away pains me to no end. So back into the cupboard or storeroom from where they had emerged.

One item uncovered in the last few days was a homemade board of 64 squares. I posted the picture of it to a few chat groups. I mentioned that this was my very first chessboard and it could have been made in 1968 or 1969. Now, I'm not even sure that it is a chessboard. It could have been a draughts board. It would have also measured 8x8, the same as a chessboard.

Now, if it was a homemade draughts board, it could have been made even earlier than 1968. Possibly 1965 when I was still in Primary school. Chess was still far away from my mind but we kids were playing draughts (or dum-dum) during recess time or after school while waiting to be picked up by our parents or a school taxi driver or trishaw man. 

The game of draughts was all the rage. No need for sophisticated pieces. No horse head, no castle, no peculiar everything else. All that was needed were 24 bottle caps. And here, the type of bottle caps you owned probably hinted a lot at your social standing too. If your caps came from a brewery, you stood well above your friends who owned caps from soft drink bottles. Me? My caps were a mixture of everything, picked up from the coffee shop behind my home in Seang Tek Road in those days. But I proudly owned a homemade foldable draughts board...THIS draughts board.

21st October 2019

I was in Kuala Lumpur over the weekend and had rushed back to Penang on Sunday night so that I could attend this day celebrating the 203rd anniversary of my alma mater, Penang Free School. Here are my selected pictures from an eventful day.

At the grave of Robert Sparke Hutchings with the representatives of Penang Free School at about 7.20am. The Hutchings Secondary School Prefects are at the back.

With Mahyidin Mustakin, President of  both the PFS Foundation and Old Frees' Association Kuala Lumpur and Selangor. He asked me who were behind the 10 educational videos and I told him that Siang Jin and I were from the Class of 1970. And he duly acknowledged us in his address at Speech Day.

With Goh Keat Jin, Chief Executive Officer of Maybank Asset Management in Singapore. He was the guest speaker representing the Old Frees at the Speech Day ceremony.

With my old schoolmate, Sukumaran. We came all the way from the mainland: me from Bukit Mertajam and Suku from Nibong Tebal.

The ever-present School Band started the day's proceedings with their rendition of the National and State anthems upon the arrival of the Governor, and then rounded up Speech Day with this version of the School Rally.

The question is who did better? Did the Free School boys and girls sing the School Rally better than the Old Frees at the OFA annual dinner? Who sand with greater gusto?

With some of the Penang Free School Prefects and members of the School Magazine Editorial Board: Afan, Krisada, myself, Dylan, Luvinaash, Yu Yan and Yan Tatt. (I've yet to see the magazine, though, despite holding up a copy.)

With my fellow chessmates Low Han Boon and Terry Ong

My wife and I with some of the remnants from our Ban Hin Lee Bank days: Quah Lean Hin and Ng Khye Wai. There were at least three more at the OFA annual dinner whom I totally forgot about. Sorry about that!

With my old Westlands Primary School schoolmates, Wong Chye Chye and Yeoh Oon Hup. Yes, we really do go back a long, long way.

With Loh Lean Kang, Aryan Singh and Tan Soo Choon

With some of the people that had attended our PFS student leadership workshops over the years: from left, Yu Yan, Yan Tatt, Adrian, Gautam, Nicholas, Tharswin, Aryan, Lean kang, myself, Soo Choon, Diviyha, Harish, Afan and Gokhulan

The Khoo Chuan Keat memorials

The first order of business was to observe a one-minute silence for our old, dear departed schoolmate, Khoo Chuan Keat, who had passed away in Kuala Lumpur last February. Some of us had known Chuan Keat since primary schooldays in 1961, but most had been friends with him from secondary schooldays. As for me, I've known Chuan Keat since 1962 when we were both in the Standard 2A express class of Westlands Primary School. We studied together until Upper Six in Penang Free School. We then went our separate ways but since the late 1990s, had reconnected as we began searching for our old, long-lost school mates.

Several weeks ago, we decided to hold two memorials for him in Penang for slightly different sets of friends from outstation. Many of us responded positively to the idea and it was finally decided to hold them at The Old Frees' Association where he had been a life member. The president agreed to let us us the Library for this purpose and that was where we found ourselves at about nine o'clock on Thursday.

We spent the next hour or two talking about him and also about the old times. There was a long discussion about the plans that Chuan Keat was putting together as he was approaching retirement age ten years ago. He wanted to establish a sophisticated, high-end retirement village for senior citizens where they could mingle with their peers during their golden years. The retirement village would be self-contained with activities and medical facilities. In fact, one had already been set up in Kuching, but Chuan Keat was exploring Penang to expand the business.

No meeting like this would ever be complete without someone opening a few bottles of whiskey to celebrate the memorial. Chuan Keat, who used to run a wine outlet in Penang in the last decade, would probably have approved of our activities.

Standing, from left: Seng Sun, Choi Choon, Teik Wah, Chye Chye, Ling Heong, Andrew and Kim Guan; seated, from left: Chin Chuan, Michael, Kok Yong, Hock Thiam, Wee Lork and Thuan Chye

Standing, left left: Michael, Lin Heong, Chin Chuan, Teik Wah, Chye Chye, Thuan Chye, Andrew, Hock Thiam and Siang Juan; seated, from left: Choi Choon, Wee Lork, Seng Sun and Kok Yong

Having a meal before the start of the second memorial at The Old Frees' Association this Saturday. Seated, from left: Jessie, Kok Yong, Charles, Chei Jin, Mrs Chei Jin, Kok Hin, Teik Wah and Andrew. Standing, from left: Michael, Kim Guan and Seng Oo

Remembering Khoo Chuan Keat

Last Wednesday, my mid-week revelry was disrupted when I received shocking news that my long-time school mate - for me, our friendship had begun in 1962 while in primary school but for some others, their friendship started even earlier in 1961 - had passed away after a battle with blood cancer.

This long-time school mate was Khoo Chuan Keat. He was actually quite a prominent fellow in the business and financial circle: a former senior executive director of PricewaterhouseCoopers for many years until his retirement about three or four years back.

Chuan Keat had so many ideas, the latest of which was setting up a company called Eden-on-the-Park to provide the first Integrated Seniors Lifestyle and Care Residence Resort in the country. The development provides senior citizens with resort-style living in luxury apartment suites and bungalow villas with aged care facilities right next to them. After having set up the first development in Kuching, his company was not looking to expand to other areas of the country, not less Penang. Chuan Keat had been talking to me and his other old school friends about this project. We were all pretty excited.

So the news of him passing away completely shocked us. He was only 64 years old last December. Only one month younger than me. But nobody knew that he wasn't in the best of health. One year ago, he was photographed at a gathering of old school mates in Kuala Lumpur and he looked perfectly all right. But looks can deceive. Within the year, he had been diagnosed with blood cancer. Undergoing treatment and rehabilitation. And we still didn't know about it. He demanded privacy and he got it till his dying day.

I last communicated with Chuan Keat through whatsapp in December. We wanted to talk but he said that he was a bit tired and would contact me later. For several weeks after that, there was silence from his end. Then came Chinese New Year. And then Chap Goh Meh approached. I was thinking to myself: why not I call him instead? After the Chap Goh Meh festivities, I decided. But before I could do so, the message came that he had passed away. So there I was, shocked and dumbfounded. Anyway, it would have been impossible to speak to him already. He was already in intensive care at a hospital, and in a coma. His mobile phone already switched off by his wife.

During our secondary school days, Chuan Keat and I were members of the Chess Club. In 1972 when we were both in Upper Six, he was the president and I was the secretary. That year was the heady year for chess in the country. Not only were we gripped by the world championship match between Boris Spassky and Bobby Fischer, 1972 was also the year that the Penang Chess Association (PCA) was formed, the Majlis Sukan Sekolah-sekolah Pulau Pinang (MSSPP) and Majlis Sukan Sekolah-sekolah Malaysia (MSSM) chess competitions were introduced and the Penang Students' Schools Chess Council (PSSCC) was dissolved. We were in the midst of these local chess activities.

After Form Six, we went our separate ways. I went to Kuala Lumpur for my studies and he headed to England. But we still kept in touch. He used to send me those girlie magazines from overseas and somehow, they managed to evade our local postal authorities. Until one day, I suppose the postal people got wise to those big brown envelopes arriving from overseas and began opening and confiscating them. 😆

I also remember him for three more things. One, even as a corporate guy, he kept his hair longish and tied up at the back of his head into a sort of ponytail. An obvious non-conformist.  I had always wondered what his clients thought about that. Second, Chuan Keat was a judge for those Miss Malaysia/Miss Universe contests at Genting Highlands in the 1990s. He always talked about them but curiously, he never offered to bring us to see the contests. At least, not to me, anyway. Would he have done so if I had asked. Sadly, I wouldn't know now. And third, about 10 years ago, he had set up a wine shop in Penang called D'niece and invited all his old school mates together for a drinking party.

Those were indeed the good old days with Chuan Keat. He shall be greatly missed.

Reliving the Westlands days

Met up with some really old school friends for dinner last night. We go back a long way to our primary school days at the Westlands Primary School. That was from 1960 (some from 1961) to 1965. Then we went our separate ways to the Penang Free School, Westlands Secondary School and Georgetown Secondary School. But inevitably like last night, some of us have come together again to re-acquaint ourselves with one another and relive the old times.

Standing: Ewe Leong, Keng Lam and Ong Seng huat. Seated: Lim Seng Huat, Kah Kheng, Oon Hup, Chye Chye, Guan Khim, Lip Chye, myself