Today is Penang's 240th anniversary

On the 240th anniversary of the landing at Penaggar Point to found Penang as a British settlement by Captain Francis Light, I'm reproducing here a story that had appeared in The Straits Budget newspaper on 20 August 1936. The Straits Budget was a long‑running English‑language newspaper published in Singapore during the British colonial period, with circulation across the Straits Settlements of Singapore, Penang and Malacca. It played a distinctive role in the press landscape of British Malaya well into the 1950s.

PENANG 1786-1936 
The Anniversary of the Hoisting Of the Flag On First British Foothold In Malaya 
By JAMES F AUGUSTIN

EXACTLY one hundred and fifty years ago, on Aug 11, 1786, Captain Francis Light founded the Settlement of Penang. Charged by the Bengal Government with the task of establishing the new colony, he formally took possession of the island "in the name of King George and for the use of the Honourable East India Company."

The actual ceremony took place at noon, when everyone assembled under the flagstaff and Captain Light read the Act of Possession. All the officers then assisted in hoisting the flag (the Old Jack) and the artillery and ships fired a salute and the marines three volleys.

Boyhood In Suffolk

Captain Light whose memory we honour today, was born at Dallinghoo, a parish near Woodbridge in Suffolk in 1740. Adopted and educated by William Negus, a relative of Milton and a son of Colonel Francis Negus, who held a prominent position at the Court of George I, he was sent to Seckford’s Grammar School at Woodbridge. On leaving School he entered the Royal Navy as a midshipman on board HMS Arrogant in 1761.

Four years later he resigned his commission and sailed for Calcutta as a passenger in the ship Clive. There he joined the Mercantile Marine as master of a country ship trading between Indian, Siamese and Malayan ports. In addition to his ordinary duties he acted as representative of the Madras firm of Messrs Jourdan, Sullivan and De Souza, which had traded for many years with Kedah, where it had maintained a factory since 1763.

Light made Salang (Junk Ceylon, now Tongkah) his headquarters and became very proficient in the Malay and Siamese languages. He also acquired a knowledge of native customs and won the confidence of the people.

Ever since 1763 the Directors of the East India Company had been seeking for a good naval station to the east of the Bay of Bengal, which would also serve as a commercial factory more central than Bencoolen in Sumatra and as a port of call for merchantmen en route to China. Light was well aware of this, and in 1771 he wrote to Warren Hastings suggesting that Penang would be a suitable place.

Nothing happened at the time and in 1780 Light went to Calcutta with another proposal that Salang, and not Penang, should be occupied. A scheme was drawn up for the occupation of Salang through private subscription but with the consent of the Governor-General-in-Council (Warren Hastings). Nothing was done however, because ships and men could not be spared owing to the War of the American Revolution and wars with the French and the Dutch which were then being waged.

Rebuff At Acheen

The need for a British port increased, especially in the face of opposition from the Dutch and Portuguese, who had settlements on the Peninsula and in Sumatra. They allowed trade at their own settlements and nowhere else. The Bengal Government in 1784 sent Mr Kinloch to found a settlement at Acheen in 1784 but he had to return owing to the hostility of the natives. Light was in Calcutta when Kinloch returned in 1786.

He immediately informed the Governor-General, Sir John Macpherson, who had succeeded Hastings, that he had exercised his personal influence with Sultan Abdullah of Kedah, who had agreed to cede the island of Penang to the East India Company for an annual subsidy of 6,000 Spanish dollars. Negotiations between the Company and the Sultan were thereupon opened and on February 23, 1786, the Governor-General-in-Council approved of the settlement of Penang. On May 2, 1786, Light was commissioned to treat with the Sultan and "vested with the charge and superintendence of the Island of Penang on the part of the Company."

Light lost no time in sailing for Kedah, where he arrived on June 29 in command of the Company's snow Eliza (a snow was a small type of sailing craft) and with a force of one hundred Bengal marines, thirty lascars, fifteen European artillerymen and five officers. Anchoring at Kuala Kedah, where he found two merchantmen, the Prince Henry and the Speedwell, he sent an officer ashore to inform the Sultan of his arrival. The next morning Light himself went ashore and was received by the Sultan's shahbandar and saluted by the guns of the fort and by three volleys from the marines.

On July 1 he again went ashore with the Governor-General's letter and presents, amid salutes fired by the fort, ships and marines. He was received by a guard of honour composed of Malays with colours flying, and, preceded by state trumpeters, was led to the Laxamana's (Admiral's) house where a canopy was erected and the King's representative, a Syed, received the letter and guns were again fired. The presents consisted, among other things, of brass-barrelled blunderbusses and gold and silver brocades, but as these were not considered sufficient, one hundred muskets were added.

Received By The Raja

Negotiations followed, and on July 3, after receiving a message from the Raja, Light, accompanied by a sergeant of artillery, a dozen marines and drums and fifes, came upstream to Alor Star, then, as now, the capital. He reached the town only on the following day and was received without any state by the Raja, who was much troubled at a passage in the Governor-General's letter which he did not understand, for it seemed to threaten him with pains and penalties if he did not comply with the Governor-General's request.

Light pointed out that there must be some mistake in the translation of the document and the Raja then appeared to be satisfied with regard to the explicit passage. After reading the translation again to his visitor he obliged Light to sign it. Six days later, Light took leave of the Raja and reached the Kuala with the signed treaty of cession.

He spent the next three days in embarking the troops and the stores, and on the 14th at 8 pm he sailed on the Eliza in company with the Prince Henry and Speedwell and anchored off Pulau Tikus Island on the 15th. With the help of a flood tide and a light breeze the little fleet ran into Penang harbour and anchored in thirteen fathoms of water within musket-shot of shore.

The first two days Light stayed on board, surveying the harbour and testing the anchorages, and on the 17th, he disembarked Lieutenant Gray and the marines on Point Penaggar, near the Esplanade. The troops were at once set to clear the ground, which did not prove to be an easy task, the wood being "so exceeding hard that the tools double like a piece of lead."

The Europeans landed on the following day and the island soon presented a busy appearance. Attap houses were erected with attaps from Kedah, wells were dug and tents were pitched. Almost a month passed away in the performance of these first labours.

George Town Named

On August 10 two of the Company's ships, the Vansittart and the Valentine, arrived off the island and the formal ceremony of taking possession took place, Light naming the settlement George Town after the Prince of Wales and the fort Cornwallis after the Governor-General.

The new colony progressed rapidly and by 1789 the population had increased to about ten thousand. The task of governing this mixed multitude fell entirely upon the shoulders of Light himself.

In 1789 Light went to Calcutta and was able to inform the authorities (who regarded his settlement with some jealousy) that the imports had already reached six hundred thousand dollars per annum. In the following year, prompted by his high sense of responsibility to the settlement, he petitioned the Government in Calcutta for an increase in his salary of one thousand rupees per mensem to enable him to give up trade because he was of the opinion that the duties of government were not consistent with his trading activities. It is not recorded whether this request was granted but it is sufficient to reveal the uprightness of his character, for as Superintendent and principal merchant he had every opportunity of enriching himself in those lax days.

Light's Death

In January, 1794, Light petitioned that a trained civilian should succeed him and that a regular system of administering justice should be established. This was virtually his last act, for later on in the same year he went down with malaria, to which he had been subject for many years, and died on Oct 21, to the great grief of the whole Settlement.

Francis Light has been described as "a worthy precursor of Sir Stamford Raffles" and as "a man of sound sense, probity and judgment - active, practical and moderate." His name survives in Light Street and in Francis Light School, Penang. His tomb lies in the middle of the Protestant cemetery in Northam Road but there is also a monument opposite the portico of St. George's Church, Penang, where a memorial tablet let into the wall of the canopy bears this inscription:

In Memory

of

FRANCIS LIGHT, Esquire

Who first established this Island

as an

English Settlement and was many

years

Governor.

Born in the County of

Suffolk in England

AND died

October 21st,

1794.

IN HIS CAPACITY AS GOVERNOR

the Settlers and Natives were greatly

attached to him, and by his

death had to mourn the loss

of one who had watched

over their interests

and cares

AS A FATHER.

First GM norm for Poh

After a rather forgettable first year playing in Europe, Penang's chess prodigy Poh Yu Tian entered his second season on the European chess circuit with a vengeance. A year older now at 17, he had obviously learnt his lessons well. The experience of playing stronger opposition, dealing with the inevitable setbacks and adjusting to the demands of tournament chess at this level seemed to have done him a world of good. 

This time, Poh wasn't merely in Europe to gain experience. He was there to make his mark. Over this summer, he played in two tournaments in France and Germany, taking on a succession of grandmasters and established international players. By the end of the two events, he had pushed his rating up to 2493 and, more importantly, secured his first-ever Grandmaster norm.

Poh's European campaign began at the Aix-en-Provence Masters in France, where he was seeded 68th in the tournament for players rated above 2100. He certainly wasn't expected to set the place on fire but that's exactly what he proceeded to do.

Poh started steadily, drawing his first two games. Then he found his stride, winning three games in a row, including a victory over GM Jan Malek, rated 2570. Two more draws followed, this time against Hungarian GMs Gleb Dudin and Gergely Kantor, rated 2577 and 2537 respectively. After seven rounds, he had accumulated five points and was looking good for a strong finish. Then came the eighth round when he ran into French GM Pierre Laurent-Paoli, rated 2536. A mistake cost him the game and ended his hopes of a top-20 finish. But there was still one more round to play and he bounced back by beating GM Maxim Rodshtein, rated around 2600. That victory was worth more than just the point on the scoreboard. It showed that he could put a bad result behind him and get on with the next game. That ability to recover from a setback would prove even more important when he moved on to Germany.

At the Sparkassen Chess Trophy A-Open, Poh again found himself playing against much stronger opposition. He held the highest seed, GM Matthias Blübaum, rated 2689, to a draw and then he defeated GM David Navara, rated 2619. These were the sort of results that showed Poh was no longer simply a promising junior looking for experience. He was capable of taking points from grandmasters who had spent many years competing at the highest level.

But once again, things didn't go entirely according to plan. In again the eighth round, Poh faced Indian GM Surya Shekhar Ganguly, rated 2556, and lost. And this time the defeat came with considerably more at stake. With only one round remaining, his GM norm chances were hanging by a thread. He had to win against his final-round opponent, IM Max Hess, rated 2385. Poh had White and opened with the Ruy Lopez, Anti-Berlin. The game developed into a tense middlegame, with both players making inaccuracies under pressure. Then came 47...Ke4?? Hess had blundered. Poh seized the opportunity and never looked back. By move 57, Hess's defences finally collapsed. In a must-win situation, Poh had won on demand. That victory gave him a 2630 tournament performance rating and with it, his first-ever GM norm. It will also push his published rating to 2493 in the next FIDE list, one point ahead of Yeoh Li Tian, Malaysia's first grandmaster.

This first GM norm is obviously the headline achievement, but I think there is something more significant about Poh's performance in France and Germany. Across his last ten games against grandmasters, five in France and five in Germany, he produced a performance rating of roughly 2623, with a positive score against them. He has beaten several 2500-plus players, held his own against opposition rated considerably higher and, just as importantly, shown that he can recover when things go wrong.

That last point may prove particularly valuable. A young player can be perfectly capable of calculating variations and finding good moves, yet still feel nervy when he sees "GM" in front of his opponent's name. Poh seems to be getting over that psychological barrier. After beating Rodshtein, Navara and other strong players, and bouncing back from defeats when it mattered, he should now be approaching GM opposition with considerably more confidence. And that could prove just as important as the rating points he has accumulated.

At 2493, Poh is now tantalisingly close to the 2500 rating required for the Grandmaster title when he acquires all three norms eventually. I don't think breaking through 2500 will be the difficult part. The second and third GM norms are another matter. They will require strong performances in the right tournaments and, naturally, there will be more losses along the way. Chess doesn't hand out titles simply because a player is talented or has one good tournament. 

But having watched Poh's progress, I don't think either of the remaining norms is beyond him. He is also now among the world's top ten players in his age group and younger. And the most encouraging part is that he is still improving. Indeed, from what I have seen this summer, he appears to be improving by leaps and bounds.

He isn't a 17-year-old who has suddenly stumbled upon one good tournament. He is a young player who seems to be learning from every experience, including the painful ones. Last year, Europe was largely an exercise in finding out what it was like to play against stronger opposition there. This year, Poh has gone back with a better understanding of what was required, and has started beating that opposition.

As someone who has been involved in Penang chess for more than five decades, I find that immensely encouraging. Poh Yu Tian is no longer just a promising young Malaysian player. He has his first GM norm. He is mere points away from 2500. And, perhaps most importantly, he now knows that he belongs at the table with the grandmasters. The rest is just a matter of finding the right moves.

Malaysian real book

I haven't attended a George Town Festival programme in years. When was the last time? I can't remember, but it was definitely before Covid-19. Funny how we've started classifying events as "pre-Covid" and "post-Covid", almost as though history has been split into two distinct eras. Anyway, I remember my last George Town Festival outing. It was to the old Soonstead mansion in Northam Road for 2 Houses, a play that required the audience to move between two neighbouring buildings. The houses themselves became part of the performance, blurring the line between theatre and reality.

This year, it wasn't a play that brought me back. Instead, it was a concert called The Malaysian Real Book II: Past to Present, part of this year's George Town Festival. To be honest, I had never even heard of The Malaysian Real Book. Apparently, the inaugural concert had been staged last year and was successful enough to earn an encore. It had completely passed me by.

My invitation came from an unexpected source. See Ming, a dear ex-JobStreet colleague from Kuala Lumpur, had planned to meet me on the fourth of August while she was in Penang. Unfortunately, I already had another engagement. Rather than abandon the idea altogether, she surprised me by buying a ticket for the following evening's performance before flying off on her own travels. It was one of those small acts of kindness that catches you by surprise.

So on the fifth, I found myself stepping into the Majestic Theatre in Khoo Sian Ewe Road, a venue I had not stepped into since 2019. Instinctively, I looked for a strategic position. The front rows were all occupied by the well-connected, but the back row suited me perfectly. Only three seats made up my row, mine and those of an elderly Caucasian couple sitting beside me. Little did I know they would become part of my evening's entertainment.

The concert itself was unlike the jazz performances most people would probably expect. There were no familiar American standards, no Gershwin, no Duke Ellington, no Fly Me to the Moon. Instead, this was unapologetically Malaysian.

The three featured vocalists, Janet Lee, Ida Mariana and Yon Lynn, explored a repertoire that drew on the country's multicultural musical traditions. Some songs were well known, others completely unknown to me, but all had been lovingly reimagined through the language of jazz. Backing them was the WVC Jazz Quintet under the direction of Tay Cher Siang, whose musicians seemed equally at home accompanying a gentle ballad, a lively Hokkien number or an energetic jazz improvisation. Keeping the evening flowing were Gareth Richards and Melina, who introduced the songs with warmth and humour without ever overstaying their welcome. 

As I listened, I occasionally glanced sideways at my Caucasian neighbours. Their expressions became increasingly difficult to read. It wasn't that the music lacked quality. Far from it. The problem, I suspect, was that the concert demanded a familiarity with Malaysian culture that overseas visitors simply could not be expected to possess.

When the singers launched into Malay classics, Penang Hokkien songs and Mandarin compositions, much of the audience responded with smiles of recognition. Heads nodded. Feet tapped. Some quietly sang along. The couple beside me sat politely through it all. And after about an hour, they quietly stood up and left. They never came back. I almost felt sorry for them because they had missed the second half, which I thought was even more enjoyable than the first.

The programme wandered effortlessly across Malaysia's musical landscape. There were songs by P Ramlee, instrumental compositions by contemporary Malaysian jazz musicians, a charming Penang Hokkien bossa number, Chinese melodies with unmistakable Nanyang flavours and, towards the end, Francisca Peter's Setia, which had much of the audience singing along. This was jazz wearing a Malaysian passport. The melodies, languages and stories belonged unmistakably to us.

Too often, when we speak about preserving our heritage, we think only of old buildings, temples, clan houses or food. Rarely do we include music in that conversation. Yet Malaysian music is every bit as much a part of our cultural identity. Projects like The Malaysian Real Book remind us that our musical heritage deserves to be documented, celebrated and performed, not simply archived away as memories of another generation.

When the concert finally ended after the encore, the audience were already on their feet in enthusiastic applause. Many had spent the evening clapping along. A few even danced. It was obvious this wasn't merely another jazz concert. It was a celebration of who we are.

As I walked out into the warm Penang night, I couldn't help looking back at the brightly lit Majestic Theatre. I found myself thinking that perhaps See Ming had done me a favour without even realising it. Had she not bought that ticket, I would probably have stayed home and remained blissfully unaware that such a remarkable project existed.

Sometimes all it takes is one thoughtful friend to nudge us out of our routines and remind us that there is still plenty happening around us. And perhaps that's the greatest gift George Town Festival continues to offer after all these years: the chance to discover, in our own backyard, something I never knew I was missing.

A chess addict looks back

July was sort of a momentous month for me. Not only was I given an award by the Penang Governor and then invited to the reopening of the Penang State Museum a few days later, there was also the release of a 90-minute podcast by the people behind Penang Hidden Gems. But be forewarned that the podcast was filmed in February 2025 and only now made available for viewing on YouTube. And so, some of the circumstances and references that I mentioned in this podcast are out of date. More than a year later, I have more or less forgotten what we talked about.

That was probably why, when I finally sat down to watch it, I found myself listening almost like any other viewer. The conversation brought back memories of things that I had not thought about for quite some time.

The interview was supposed to be about me, but in reality, it became a journey through several chapters of my life, from banking, writing, chess and community work to Penang Free School and the many people and events that shaped my journey.

The hosts introduced me as someone they called a “multi-hyphenate” writer, blogger, chess enthusiast and, as I jokingly prefer to describe myself, a chess addict. I have to admit that “multi-hyphenate” sounds rather grand. I usually just think of myself as someone who has been curious about many things and somehow ended up doing a little bit of everything.

During my working life, I started out at Ban Hin Lee Bank, where I spent 23 years before moving into something completely different. I joined JobStreet as Editorial Manager, a move that took me from banking into the world of content and communications. It was a major change of direction, though not as drastic as it might have seemed, since writing had always been part of my life. Instead of dealing with systems and banking operations, I found myself working on articles, announcements and promotional materials. Anything that JobStreet wanted to publish publicly would pass through my hands before release.

But when the conversation began, the hosts quickly steered the discussion towards the subject that probably defines me more than any job I ever held: chess. That was how I first came into contact with them. Eugene, one of the hosts of the podcast, had seen me at chess events, including Penang Chess Association activities and the old Penang Free School Open. To him, I was the familiar figure who was always somewhere in the background organising things.

Moe jokingly called me part of the “chess Illuminati”. I suppose after more than five decades involved in chess, I cannot deny that I have spent a large part of my life lurking around chessboards. My journey with chess began quite late in my school life, after Form Three at Penang Free School. Those were the days when, after sitting for the Lower Certificate of Education examination, there was not much to do while waiting for the next school year to begin. I picked up a chess book, learnt the rules and started playing.

When I entered Form Four, I joined the school chess club. The seniors noticed that I could play reasonably well and invited me to join the junior team. That year, I represented the school in inter-school competitions. And I lost every single game. But that was probably the best education I could have received. Chess, like many things in life, teaches you through your failures. You lose, you learn, you improve and you come back stronger. 

Over the years, my involvement in chess evolved. I was no longer just a player but also became involved in organising tournaments and eventually as an arbiter. The arbiter ensures that the Laws of Chess are followed and resolves disputes when they occur. In the early days, disputes were more common, especially over the touch-move rule. If you deliberately touch a piece, you must move that piece if a legal move is available. Many players were unfamiliar with the rule and arguments would arise.

Another challenge was maintaining silence during tournaments. In those days, spectators were allowed to walk around and observe games. I still remember one gentleman who would go from board to board, look at the positions and loudly mutter suggestions to himself, “You should move this…” Of course, the players could hear him, and the organisers had to keep telling him: “Please move away. Quiet, please.” Fortunately, such incidents are much less common nowadays.

One topic that naturally came up was the Penang Chess Association. The association was founded in 1972, with the inaugural Annual General Meeting held at the then Penang Library on Farquhar Street. I was one of about 50 founder members. And more than 50 years later, I am the only founder member who is still actively involved. The hosts called me the “Yoda of Penang chess”. I am not sure whether I should be flattered or worried.

Time has shown that the Penang Chess Association has played an important role in developing chess in the state. Today, tournaments are organised regularly, sometimes large events and sometimes smaller ones, but there is almost always something happening. The association has also received recognition from the Penang State Sports Council. A few years ago, we were placed in Category A, the highest category for sports associations. That was a proud moment because it showed that chess, despite being a mind sport, was receiving the same recognition as other sporting activities. And at the last SUKMA Games, chess contributed five gold medals. 

One of the interesting parts of the interview was discussing how much chess has changed over the decades. When I started playing, we learnt from books. If you were fortunate, you might find a stronger player willing to sit down and analyse games with you. 

Today, everything is different. A young player can watch the world's best players online, access databases containing millions of games and use computer engines that can analyse positions far beyond human ability. The youngsters today have opportunities that my generation could only dream about. That is why today's young players are so much stronger. 

But although technology has transformed chess, the essence of the game remains unchanged. The board is still 64 squares, each player still starts with 16 pieces, and the rules remain fundamentally the same. Yet every generation discovers something new and that's the beauty of chess. 

Perhaps the greatest attraction of chess is that it is one of the few activities where age and physical ability matter so little. A child can defeat an adult. A young player can compete against someone old enough to be his grandfather. Men and women can compete together. The board does not care about your age, your background or your physical limitations. Even someone with a physical disability can compete on equal terms. The game only calls for a player to find the best move. And perhaps that is why, after all these years, I am still drawn to those 64 squares. 

So watching the podcast was a little like opening an old photo album and the memories came flooding back. I am grateful to Eugene and Moe, the team behind Penang Hidden Gems, for giving me the opportunity to talk about the things that have been such a big part of my life: chess, writing, Penang and the many experiences that have come along the way.

Anyone interested in the full 90-minute conversation can watch it below. Just bear in mind that it was recorded in February 2025, so some references may be slightly dated. But then again, memories are like old chess games. Even years later, there is always something interesting to rediscover when you look back at them.

Penang Museum reopening

Anyone visiting the newly reopened Penang State Museum could be forgiven for thinking that it is, in part at least, a museum devoted to Penang Free School. 

That was certainly my first impression when I finally ventured beyond the curtain at the entrance. During the official reopening by the Penang Governor last Thursday evening, I never actually got that far. I had made a beeline for the marble plaque listing the donors to the building fund in 1895-96, then somehow got sidetracked into conversation with someone and never saw the rest of the museum. 

So on Sunday, I returned with Saw See for a proper visit. We headed upstairs and found ourselves in a corridor paying tribute to Penang's historic schools. Along one wall stood four child-sized mannequins dressed in the familiar white uniform of Penang Free School, complete with school ties and crest badges. One even wore the dark navy-blue blazer of a School Prefect. A video projection showed Free School boys and prefects running down the corridor, as though eagerly hurrying off to class. 

Following their lead, we arrived at the room at the far end of the corridor. It turned out to be entirely dedicated to Penang Free School. And why not?

After all, the museum building itself was once the school's home, built specifically for that purpose. Constructed in two stages, the first wing adjoining the Church of the Assumption was completed in 1896, while the second wing, extending towards St George's Church, was added in 1906. During the Allied bombing campaign of 1944 and 1945, carried out by the RAF and the US Army Air Forces to weaken the Japanese occupation of Penang, much of the later wing was destroyed. It was one of many colonial-era buildings that suffered damage in the raids. The surviving half eventually became the Penang State Museum in 1965: a history made even more tangible today by the excavated foundations of the lost wing, now preserved as an outdoor exhibit.

The recreated classroom is laid out with rows of old-fashioned desks facing a blackboard. Greeting visitors is the school's motto, Fortis Atque Fidelis. The walls are lined with displays tracing the school's more than two centuries of history, alongside a bust of Tunku Abdul Rahman, arguably the most distinguished Old Free of them all. There are also photographs of many other prominent Old Frees who have made their mark over the years.

It was here that I experienced a sense of satisfaction. Much of the historical information displayed in the room was adapted from my book, Let the Aisles Proclaim, which I wrote for the school's bicentenary in 2016. I had also supplied the museum with an updated summary of the school's history, leaving it entirely to the curators to decide how best to present the material. I can only hope I didn't overlook anything that some eagle-eyed visitor will one day point out.

Lest I give the wrong impression, the Free School exhibits occupy only a small corner of the museum. The rest explores Penang's history in all its facets through almost 1,200 artefacts, supported by multimedia and interactive presentations. Interesting though they are, I must admit I was rather biased. As an Old Free, I naturally spent more time in the galleries devoted to my alma mater. 

That changed, however, when I wandered into one of the ground-floor galleries devoted to Penang's legislative and judicial history. Looking down from the wall were portraits of Hussein Abdoolcader, James Ambrose, Alfred Winslow and Wee Chong Jin. Hussein Abdoolcader was one of Penang's most distinguished lawyers and also served on the Straits Settlements Legislative Council. Ambrose, Winslow and Wee later moved to Singapore, where they rose through the judiciary to become Federal Court judges, with Wee Chong Jin eventually serving as Singapore's Chief Justice. Apart from the fact that they were from the legal profession, all four were also Old Frees. Goes to show that Penang Free School has had rather more than its fair share of producing lawyers and judges.

Before leaving, there was one final stop to the newly opened archaeological exhibit which I mentioned earlier. Here were the foundations of the bombed-out 1906 wing which had been excavated and preserved. Standing there and looking at what remained of the original structure brought the story full circle. Almost a century after Penang Free School left these premises, my alma mater had, in a sense, come home again.

My old ancestor, Oh Cheng Chan

I attended the reopening of the Penang State Museum last Thursday evening. It was a grand affair graced by the presence of the Penang Governor, Ramli Ngah Talib, Chief Minister Chow Kon Yeow, members of the State Exco and a host of invited guests. I was also happy to bump into quite a number of familiar faces among the crowd and even made a few new friends along the way.

After the speeches and a rather late dinner, which didn't begin until well after nine o'clock, we were finally invited into the museum. But I didn't get very far.

Just inside the entrance, my attention was drawn to a marble plaque mounted on one of the walls. I already knew what I wanted to see. It had been on my mind for years, and I was looking forward to reacquainting myself with it. My eyes quickly worked their way down the list of donors until they finally rested on a familiar name.

OH CHENG CHAN ESQR

There he was. This gentleman from the past, who contributed Straits Dollars One Hundred towards the building fund in either 1895 or 1896, was my great-great-grandfather on my mother's side of the family.

Seeing his name there again gave me happiness and a sense of pride. Suddenly, this wasn't just another heritage building with an interesting history. My own family had played a small part in making it possible. Quickly, I asked someone to take photos of me pointing to the name.

As far as I know, that makes me at least the fifth generation of my family in Penang. I say "at least" because I have never been able to trace Oh Cheng Chan's birthplace or date of birth. If he had come from China, then he would have been the first generation here. But if he had actually been born in Penang, then I would already be the sixth generation. Unfortunately, history has remained silent on that point.

His donation of Straits Dollars One Hundred may not sound like much today, but at the turn of the 20th century it was a substantial sum. In terms of purchasing power, it would probably be comparable to somewhere between RM15,000 and RM20,000 today. He was one of several public-spirited Penangites who contributed towards the construction of this magnificent building, leaving behind a legacy that has endured for well over a century.

The building itself has witnessed more than its fair share of history. Construction began in 1896, with the western wing completed first so that Penang Free School could move into its new premises in 1897. The eastern wing was completed in 1906 and occupied the following year. It was in this very building that Penang Free School celebrated its centenary in 1916.

Twelve years later, the upper forms moved to the school's present Green Lane campus, leaving behind the lower forms to become Hutchings School, a name chosen by The Old Frees' Association in honour of Robert Sparke Hutchings, the founder of Penang Free School.

The building suffered its first taste of war in December 1941 when Japanese bombs landed nearby. One exploded within the compound of the St George's Church, and the blast damaged the building's doors and windows. It fared much worse in February 1945 when Allied bombing scored a direct hit on the eastern wing, reducing much of it to rubble. Hutchings School returned to the surviving portion in 1947 and remained there until their new school buildings were completed in 1960.

After that, the old building stood empty for a while and even came close to being demolished. Thankfully, Tunku Abdul Rahman stepped in and decided that it should instead become the Penang State Museum. Whether he was motivated purely by its historical significance or by fond memories of his own schooldays here as a Penang Free School pupil, we can only speculate. Whatever the reason, Penang owes him a tremendous debt of gratitude for preserving one of the state's most important heritage buildings.

So there I was, looking at the plaque and finding myself thinking about my great-great-grandfather. More than 130 years ago, he and many others contributed to a public building that would go on to educate generations of Penangites before eventually becoming the State Museum. I doubt he could ever have imagined that one of his descendants would one day return, stand before that very plaque and quietly read his name once again. History isn't just something we read about in books. Sometimes, it stares back at us from a wall.

A shot in the arm

I had been dilly-dallying for years, but finally decided to go for my pneumonia jab yesterday. I first became aware of the pneumonia vaccine during the Covid-19 pandemic. At the time, I was encouraging my friends to get their annual influenza jabs. While the flu vaccine doesn't protect against Covid-19 itself, I felt that keeping the body's defences up against one infectious disease couldn't be a bad thing when dealing with another.

That's when one of my friends brought up the pneumonia vaccine, pointing out that it was just as important, especially for older people. He reminded me that pneumonia is one of the leading causes of hospitalisation among senior citizens and can be particularly dangerous for those with chronic conditions such as diabetes, heart disease and lung disease. Although the vaccine doesn't prevent every case of pneumonia, it greatly reduces the risk of severe illness and serious complications.

It certainly sounded like something worth having. Unfortunately, the price at the time was rather steep, so I shelved the idea. As often happens, one year became two, and before I knew it, several years had slipped by. Then about a week ago, something just clicked. I realised I had procrastinated long enough. We insure our homes, service our cars and go for regular medical check-ups, yet we sometimes hesitate over a vaccination that could help keep us out of hospital. The older we get, the less sense it makes to keep putting these things off.

So yesterday, Saw See and I, together with two other friends, kept appointments with a doctor friend who had kindly arranged for our vaccinations at cost price. I won't mention who he is or where we had the injections, just to respect everyone's privacy.

The vaccine we received was Prevnar 20, one of the newer pneumococcal vaccines that protects against 20 strains of the bacteria responsible for pneumonia and other serious infections. Unlike the influenza vaccine, which needs to be taken every year, this is generally a one-off vaccination for most older adults.

The whole thing was over in a matter of minutes. Just a tiny prick in the arm and a much lighter wallet, but also the comforting feeling that I'd finally crossed another important item off my health checklist. Come to think of it, the hardest part wasn't the injection at all. It was taking so many years to make up my mind.

Back to Farquhar Street

This Thursday is a date I've been looking forward to for quite some time. After almost ten years behind hoardings and scaffolding, the Penang State Museum on Farquhar Street is finally reopening its doors. Like many Penangites, I'm curious to see how the old building has been restored. But unlike most visitors, the first thing I'll be looking for won't be the new galleries or exhibits.

I'll be making a beeline for the marble plaques mounted on the walls. Most people probably walk past them without a second glance. To me, they are among the most important artefacts in the whole building.

Many people don't realise that the building was never intended to be a museum. It was built for the Penang Free School after the school's original premises at Church Square had become hopelessly overcrowded. The first wing was completed in 1896, while the second followed in 1907.

Building a new school in those days was no small undertaking. To finance the project, the people of Penang rallied behind the cause. Individuals, families, businesses and community organisations donated generously because they believed in supporting education. To honour their generosity, marble plaques bearing the names of all the contributors were mounted on the walls of the new school building.

Many years later, while studying those names, I made an unexpected discovery. One of the donors was my own great-great-grandfather. Ever since then, whenever I visit the building, I make it a point to look for his name. It gives me a strange but satisfying feeling to know that someone from my family helped, however modestly, to build what would eventually become one of Penang's most historic buildings.

When Penang Free School moved to its Green Lane campus in 1927, the school ensured that the names of those benefactors would not be forgotten. A wooden honours board bearing the same list of donors was produced and mounted above the entrance to the Pinhorn Hall, where it still hangs today. Generations of Old Frees have probably walked beneath it without realising the story behind those names.

This Thursday, however, I'll have another reason for visiting. Some time ago, while restoration work was still in progress, the Penang State Museum contacted me with an unexpected request. The introduction came through the school's then headmaster, Syed Sultan Shaik Oothuman. Knowing of my work on the history of Penang Free School, he suggested that the museum approach me to write a concise history of the school for its new displays.

I was only too happy to help. Much of what I wrote was based on the extensive research and investigation that eventually culminated in Let the Aisles Proclaim in 2016. While researching that book, I discovered that a surprising number of accepted accounts of the school's early history were inaccurate. The same mistakes had been copied from one publication to another over the decades until they became accepted as historical fact.

Going back to original documents, newspapers and official records allowed me to verify dates, correct errors and, in some cases, completely rewrite parts of the school's early history. Besides writing the historical account, I also supplied some old photographs. They were only small contributions, but I was glad to assist. Whether the museum acknowledges my contribution is entirely up to them. That isn't why I did it.

For me, I'm happy enough knowing that I was able to contribute in a small way to preserve the history of a building that occupies such an important place in Penang's educational and cultural heritage.

This Thursday, I'll almost certainly pause in front of those marble plaques and again look for the name of my great-great-grandfather who helped build the school more than a century ago. Beyond those plaques are galleries that now also contain a little of my own work. History has a wonderful way of coming full circle.

Dewan Sri Pinang memories

Just going to the Dewan Sri Pinang last Monday brought back memories of my long association with this grand old hall. It was not the first time I had walked into the building to receive recognition, but it was also certainly not the first time I had been here for something else that was equally memorable.

At the investiture ceremony, my wife was seated high up in the terraced chairs, giving her an excellent vantage point of the proceedings below. At some point during the ceremony, she took a photograph of the hall from where she was sitting. When she showed it to me afterwards, I found myself looking beyond just the picture itself. The sweeping view of the hall, the spaciousness of the venue and the atmosphere it captured brought back a flood of memories.

Because my first visit to Dewan Sri Pinang was not for an award ceremony. It was December 1972, the last few days of my school life. Upper Six and the Higher School Certificate examinations had just ended, and like many school leavers, I was standing at the crossroads, wondering what lay ahead. There wasn't much time for soul-searching, though, because I had been selected to represent Penang in the inaugural Majlis Sukan Sekolah-sekolah Malaysia (MSSM) team chess championship. It was the first time chess had appeared as a competitive sport in the MSSM programme.

It is tempting to attribute the inclusion of chess to the famous World Championship match between Boris Spassky and Bobby Fischer from July to September in 1972. In reality, the wheels had already been set in motion months earlier.

In April 1972, Dr Max Euwe, then President of the World Chess Federation (FIDE) and himself a former World Champion, visited Malaysia as part of a regional tour to promote chess. He stopped in Kuala Lumpur, and I was one of five players from Penang selected to take part in a simultaneous exhibition against him. If memory serves me right, he played about 24 schoolboys from around the country. We from Penang were myself, Khaw Teik Kooi and Khoo Chuan Keat from Penang Free School, and Beh Hong Pin and Lee Teik Leong from Chung Ling High School.

I actually caught him out in the opening when he played his moves in the wrong order. Unfortunately, my inexperience showed. Instead of exploiting the opportunity, I allowed him to recover, and before long he won the game. But I did earn something far more memorable. When Dr Euwe realised his mistake, he paused briefly, looked at the position and said, "You're sharp."

Just two simple words. Yet coming from a former World Champion, they meant the world to a teenage chess player. Following Dr Euwe's visit, the Ministry of Education approved chess as an MSSM sport, although initially only as a team event. The Majlis Sukan Sekolah-sekolah Pulau Pinang (MSSPP) was entrusted with organising the inaugural championship. The task fell to Fang Ewe Churh, then Headmaster of Han Chiang Primary School and President of the fledgling Penang Chess Association. Freshly returned from the Chess Olympiad in Skopje, Yugoslavia, where he had served as Malaysia's team captain and delegate, he was the obvious choice to organise the competition.

I honestly can't remember the selection process now, but by the end of the year I had been informed that I would represent Penang on first board. It proved to be a tough tournament. We defeated Johore and Kelantan to reach the semi-finals, where we overcame Negri Sembilan. In the final, however, Selangor proved too strong, and we had to settle for the runners-up spot.

The championship was held in the main hall of Dewan Sri Pinang. I still remember shivering throughout the tournament, not only because of the powerful air-conditioning, but also because of the tension of playing on first board for the state team. Over the years, I've returned to Dewan Sri Pinang many times for chess events. Games have been played in the main hall, the function rooms downstairs, and even in the foyer and first-floor corridors. But nothing can quite match the memories of that first tournament.

So now, whenever I step into Dewan Sri Pinang, it is not the investiture ceremonies or the medals that come to mind first. It is the memory of a nervous 18-year-old schoolboy, sitting at Board One in the inaugural MSSM Team Chess Championship, wondering whether he was good enough to do Penang proud.

No title attached, thank you

I'm not one to chase state honours because I've never been a businessman or corporate leader, nor have I ever felt the need for the weight of a state or federal title behind my name. But if an award comes my way in recognition of my contributions to society, I certainly wouldn't turn it down. One thing is for sure, though: I would think twice before accepting any award that comes with a title. I still prefer to stay low-key and out of the limelight.

Last Monday, I attended an investiture ceremony at Dewan Sri Pinang to receive the Darjah Johan Negeri (DJN) from the Penang Governor, Ramli Ngah Talib, on the occasion of his official 85th birthday.

It wasn't my first state award. The last time I stepped into Dewan Sri Pinang for this purpose was in 2021, when I received the Pingat Kelakuan Terpuji (PKT) for 2020, the ceremony having been postponed because of the Covid-19 pandemic. And because of the pandemic, I never got to receive the award personally from the then Penang Governor, Haji Abdul Rahman bin Haji Abbas. But still, I had to dress up to the nines just to collect the medal. Before that, I have to turn the clock back to 1995, when I was awarded the Pingat Jasa Kebaktian (PJK).

Three medals under my belt. I think that's enough, lah. I'm happy, I'm contented, and I'm certainly not looking for any more.

There was another reason why receiving the award from Ramli made the occasion a little more special. Many people probably don't realise that he was the President of the Malaysian Chess Federation from 2007 to 2016. As I stepped forward to receive the medal, there was only time for a brief congratulatory handshake. I quickly told him, "This award is for Penang chess."

Whether those few words registered with him amid the hundreds of recipients that day, I really don't know.

Later that evening, however, there was an unexpected sequel. At the state dinner, as Ramli made his way along the red carpet greeting the guests, he shook my hand once again. This time, I simply reminded him with a single word: "Chess."

Before he could respond, his wife, Raja Noora Ashikin Raja Abdullah, who was walking just behind him, immediately looked at me and said, "He was in Norway." She was referring to the 2014 Chess Olympiad in Tromsø, held during Ramli's tenure as President of the Malaysian Chess Federation.

I found it fascinating that, completely off the cuff, she could instantly make the connection and recall that particular event. It was a fleeting exchange lasting only a few seconds, but it left a lasting impression on me.

As a postscript, I want to mention some other people who received titles and medals during these four days of the investiture.

• Apart from me from the Wu Lien-Teh Society, there were also Clement Liang Chow Ming and Ong Siou Woon who received their PKT and PJK respectively. I thank the President, Anwar Fazal, for putting forth my application and the Secretary, Dr Hor Chee Peng, for the patience to prepare all the paperwork.
• Then from The Old Frees' Association, other than me, Albert Moh See Eng was conferred the DGPN, Kannan Srinivasaraghavan received the PKT and Lim Wee Seong the PJK.
• Finally from the Penang Chess Association, the recipient other than myself was Chong Kean Foong. There was also a Lee Ewe Ghee, but the one I know said that this wasn't him.

George Town's world heritage day

It is gratifying to see some of our state assemblypersons coming out on facebook to acknowledge and celebrate George Town's World Heritage Day on the seventh of July this year. Have I missed out on anyone's poster? I hope not! There were also public acknowledgements from several agencies and businesses but I shall not show the businesses here as they were too numerous.

(Buletin Mutiara)