Samenta seminar

Yesterday, I attended a seminar at The Light Hotel in Seberang Jaya. Originally, I was invited just to make up the numbers, as the organisers were unsure how many would attend. However, it turned out that more than 100 people filled the audience, all of whom were small and medium-sized business owners. 

This half-day seminar was tailored specifically for SMEs by Samenta Northern Region, a trade association representing small and medium enterprises. The agenda featured speakers discussing a range of topics relevant to these businesses, including ESG, halal certification, halal entrepreneurship, export opportunities through Matrade and highlights from the latest Budget. 

Missing from the picture below is my wife who, in the inexplicable absence of the branch trade association’s chairman and deputy chairman, worked tirelessly to bring this seminar to a successful conclusion. I had witnessed first-hand her dedication in coordinating the programme, holding countless online meetings with the Samenta committee, speakers and government agencies to ensure everything ran smoothly.

Port Dickson

My wife and I spent last weekend on the road—or more precisely, on a bus—along with some 40-odd members of The Old Frees' Association. We’d all signed up for an overnight OFA trip to Port Dickson. Why Port Dickson, of all places? I’m not entirely sure, but the trip as a whole felt rather underwhelming to me.

One part of the itinerary took us to a model Hakka village near Dengkil, intended to replicate the original circular Hakka villages of China and attract visitors to this place. But where were the tourists? Besides our two buses from Penang, there was hardly a soul to be seen. To add to the letdown, the lunch served there was not Hakka but Malay cuisine. Our next stop was a dragon fruit farm near the Kuala Lumpur international airport, where the excitement came not from the fruit but from watching planes fly low overhead. The farm did boast a Guinness World Record for a giant concrete replica of a dragon fruit—though how that made it into Guinness, I have no idea.

Our third stop was the Port Dickson Pantai Saujana beach, a popular spot for local tourists that left me quite dumbfounded. I found myself more interested in the night market across the road, where we were possibly the only non-Malays in the crowd. As for the beach itself, its only redeeming quality must be the stunning sunsets visitors get to witness.

The following morning, we visited the colourful Yun Loong Temple and were fascinated to learn that its main deity, Chor Soo Kong, is also worshipped at Penang’s own Snake Temple—a comforting connection to home. After the temple, we visited the Army Museum, which, thankfully, proved interesting. The displays were substantial enough: real aircraft, helicopters, armoured vehicles, tanks, guns and ammunition, along with a tunnel simulating the underground living conditions of the Communists in Malaya. Then, of course, we stopped in Seremban on our way home for their siew pau—about as authentic as it gets! Although, to be honest, they didn’t taste any different than similar siew paus back home in Penang and elsewhere.

Lastly, a word about our accommodation. We stayed at The Guest Hotel in Port Dickson, which I absolutely loved—a testament to its spacious rooms and facilities, which, regrettably, we didn’t have time to enjoy on this short overnight trip. That, as it happens, was the trip’s only real highlight.

ADDENDUM: This was only my second visit to Port Dickson, my first being nearly 50 years ago. Back then, I had gotten to know several people in Seremban, fellow chess players I’d met at the MSSM chess competitions in 1972 and 1973. Since I was studying in Petaling Jaya at the time, I would occasionally make trips to Seremban, sometimes by bus or on my motorcycle. I remember the Mantin Pass, a winding stretch of road. On one of these visits, my friends from Seremban suggested a day trip to Port Dickson in his father’s Datsun. So off we went, six of us crammed into the car because we were all skinny in our youth, off to the beach. I still remember us tucking into our roti john ordered from a Malay stall there. Those were the good old days…

A shout-out to my old Seremban pals: Chua Poh Soon, Wong Chee Foo, Lim Chun Yin (and his sister, Lean Na), Khaw Hock Lye, Thang Fook Kheong, David Lim and Liew Wing Kwong!

My unspoken threshold

Waking up today just before four o'clock in the morning, I find myself coming to terms with having crossed my 70th birthday. This past year has brought its share of mental anxieties and uncertainties, yet here I am—now older than my parents once were, and my two grandfathers as well. Strangely, I feel a deep sense of relief with this milestone. There’s a kind of freedom in knowing I’m still here, with the years ahead as uncharted, open possibilities instead of something closed off by age or expectation. Today, I am more at peace with myself than I was yesterday.

When in-laws meet

Titiwangsa, the Main Range. That was what I crossed travelling on the East-West Highway between Penang and Kelantan last weekend. It was a six-hour drive eastwards on Saturday, followed by another equally lengthy journey back west on Sunday. My wife and I accompanied her sister and brother-in-law to Tanah Merah to deliver the pheng-kim to their future daughter-in-law’s parents, ahead of their younger son’s wedding in a fortnight. We felt honoured to be asked to help carry the siah-nah and other wedding gifts. Saw See led the way into the house with the siah-nah while my brother-in-law and I brought up the rear with the fruits. The pheng-kim is the traditional dowry ritual offered by the groom’s parents to the bride’s family, while the siah-nah is a woven rattan wedding basket used to carry those dowry items. All deeply rooted in Chinese custom.

On Sunday morning, we arrived at the bride’s parents’ house in Tanah Merah. They were well prepared for our arrival; a red banner was already strung across the main doorway, and to the left, a lavish buffet spread awaited. We arrived with minimal fanfare, met by the curious eyes of close relatives meeting us for the first time. Without much ado, Saw See entered the house first with the siah-nah, carefully prepared the night before in our hotel room, followed by her sister carrying additional traditional gifts such as a pair of dragon and phoenix candles, wedding biscuits and two bottles of brandy. Meanwhile, we men brought in the fruit—apples and oranges adorned with the double happiness symbol—which we placed on the table before the family altar. With the worship and dowry presentation completed, we gathered for lunch before exchanging farewells and setting off on our long journey home.

Hutchings thanksgiving service 2024

Another year, another Thanksgiving memorial service for Robert Sparke Hutchings at his grave in the heritage Protestant Cemetery on Northam Road, George Town. I have been attending this service since 2012. Initially, it was out of curiosity, as I had just finished co-editing Fidelis with Molly Ooi. I wanted to see how much the Penang Free School Prefects were still involved in the annual tradition of visiting Hutchings' grave. That first visit reassured me that the tradition was still very much intact and observed to this day.

During the 2012 service, I drew a lot of curious stares from the Prefects and teachers, as none of them had seen me before. There I stood, a complete stranger in a PFS tie, shoulder to shoulder with them as the service went on. At the time, there were no representatives from The Old Frees' Association, and I found myself unofficially representing them.

Over the years, I managed to encourage more Old Frees to join in the annual visit. The school's Bicentenary helped raise awareness of this tradition, and gradually, The Old Frees' Association became more involved. Now, the OFA President and other members of the Management Committee attend as well.

Under the capable leadership of Revd Stephen Vello and Revd Ho Kong Eng, this morning's 15-minute service ran smoothly, with representatives from The Old Frees' Association, Penang Free School, Hutchings Sixth Form College and St George's Church in attendance. As tradition, the school songs were sung, and the PFS School Rally was duly performed. Regrettably, however, the students from Hutchings College came unprepared for their own school song. Their school authorities could have better prepared them, especially as their students attend the service every year.