‘Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.’
– W.B. Yeats, an Irish poet, playwright, and one of the foremost figures of 20th-century literature. Born on June 13, 1865, in Dublin, Ireland, Yeats is known for his lyrical and symbolic poetry that explores themes of Irish folklore, mythology, and the occult.
BEFORE concluding the year 1972 at SMK Saratok, a few other students and I were invited to a party at Principal Encharang Agas’ quarters by the roadside, opposite our hostels. Senior Assistant Gramong Juna (now Datuk) was present with his young wife, Catherine, to accompany the Encharangs.
There were other senior students (boys and girls) who enjoyed a good dose of drinks (including beer) and food, courtesy of the kind and caring principal. It was a farewell party for us, the Form Five students.
I am excited to highlight the remarkable individuals, particularly our dedicated teachers, who had been a part of our school community over the past five years (1968 – 1972) at our beloved institution at Batu 4, Old Saratok-Roban Road.
In 1968, we were taught by a male New Zealand teacher named Paul Goldring — my first ‘Orang Putih’ teacher, who was quite handsome and kind.
He taught us Health Science and was a likeable teacher, occasionally sharing cookies with a few boys, including myself.
Another intriguing teacher was Gendin Wood, an Iban from Debak and my mom’s distant cousin.
He was very handsome, and we were told he washed his shirt with scented soap. I’m sure he was every girl’s dream boy.
Another interesting yet occasionally eccentric figure was our male woodworking instructor, Mr Lau, a Foochow whose full name escapes my memory. With his very Foochow accent, he always made us laugh. I distinctly remember one phrase him: “I talking, you talking, who listening?” I never took his subject seriously.
In 1969, a new female teacher was in charge of our Form Two B class. She was a real beauty by the name of Cynthia Zehnder, of German-Iban parentage.
Her mother, Tra Zehnder (later Temenggong Dato Sri), was then a member of the State Legislative Assembly (Council Negeri) and a prominent Iban woman.
Cynthia possessed a European appearance and stood out as a beauty on the edge of the jungle. I am sure she was the object of admiration for many teachers (she later married an Iban teacher, Michael Anchang, now deceased).
Despite her beauty, she had a bit of a fierce demeanour, and we students were also scared of her.
In 1970, we were taught the English Language by an Iban teacher from Sungai Kelampai, Saratok, named Edward Untie, the brother of the Saratok MP at the time (and Deputy Minister of Agriculture), Dato Sri Edmund Langgu.
Untie, who was trained at Batu Lintang Training College in Kuching, was tiny in size but walked so fast that his hands could easily kill or suffocate a fly. He was an excellent English Language teacher.
My classmate, Ngumbang Ikom, and I would often test his knowledge, and he usually did well when we asked about the meanings of various words — until we stumped him with the word ‘Agromomot’, a term we had invented.
Congratulations to Teacher Edward Untie — it was a word not found in any dictionary. (When I returned to serve as principal at the school in 1985, Ngumbang was working as a Lab Assistant there.)
In 1971, when we were in Form Four, our Geography and History teacher was Teacher Edward Gella Baul, the Senior Assistant to Voon Teck Min. There are two things that stand out in my memory about him.
First, he introduced us to the Form Four A students with a thick Iban accent, emphasising that “Maps are essential tools in Geography.”
Secondly, when teaching History, he always shortened the word ‘Parameswara’ of the Malacca/Pelembang Sultanates to ‘Param’, probably for brevity and convenience, and perhaps to avoid misspelling the longer term.
Due to this habit, one of our mischievous classmates, Changgai Ensu (now deceased), decided to nickname Teacher Gella as ‘Mr Param’, a title that the class humorously agreed upon, but only used behind his back.
I recall a particular incident with Teacher Gella when a few of us went to complain about our Commerce teacher, John Lim (also our English Language and Form Teacher), and requested a replacement.
Along with myself, James Benang and my first cousin, Michael Darjie Awie, were also in the group that approached Senior Assistant Edward Gella. After hearing our complaint, Teacher Gella said, “James Benang, pack up your bag and go home.”
That marked the end of our complaint and Commerce lessons for me and a few others. (James Benang is now a retired headmaster, while Michael Darjie later became a Penghulu after retiring as the Saratok District Officer.)
During our Form Four year in 1971, we were taught English Literature by a young male Peace Corp Volunteer, Theodore Bryant Pack, or simply Ted Pack, who was around 22 years old.
Our lessons were based on the textbook ‘Julius Caesar’ by William Shakespeare. I found the subject very interesting and was quite fond of the teacher (I scored a distinction in the subject in the Senior Cambridge Exam the following year).
Teacher Ted Pack used to encourage us to memorise quotes from the play about Caesar, and I consistently excelled in presenting them.
I want to share a powerful quote from the book where Mark Antony mourns the death of Julius Caesar, reflecting on how the negative actions of individuals tend to be remembered long after their passing, while their positive deeds are often forgotten.
I began batik painting while in Form Four, thanks to our Art teacher’s distant cousin, Joshua Jali Linggong from Munggu Embawang, my dad’s birthplace in Saratok.
Known locally as ‘Toh’ in the longhouse, Teacher Joshua, who trained at Batu Lintang and another college in KL, was a kind and patient young man who was a bachelor.
In August of that year, we organised a batik painting exhibition in the British Council Building in Kuching under Teacher Joshua’s guidance. I sold all three paintings at RM200 each and thus became RM600 richer by the end of our two-day show. Teacher Joshua was a very kind and patient young man, and I also scored a distinction in Art in the Senior Cambridge Exam the following year.
In our Form Five A classes, one boy who always stood out was Abang Adenan from Debak. He was a bit older than the other students and had a moustache that made him appear even older.
Despite being a funny guy, he never got angry, even when teased by some of us, including myself. In class, he was an average student.
Another mischievous character was Banggai Ansa, who suddenly tattooed his right hand with the word ‘Tristram Boy’, a decision that nearly got him rejected by the armed forces.
Among the boys, my best friend was Thomas Buan from Roban. He came from a well-to-do family and always provided food for me, knowing my financial situation.
Whenever I performed as Elvis outside the school, including once at Simanggang Theatre in June, I would borrow his shirt. (Thomas is now known as Dr Thomas after earning his Ph.D. over a decade ago.) Another close friend was Allan Keripin Nangkai from Sri Aman, who joined the school in 1971.
He was a bigger and tougher boy and our school’s boxing champion. (He is now married to another classmate, Anne Sandie Radin, and has been bestowed a datukship.) My rival in English Language studies was Abang Meluan Busra from Debak (now Datuk), and we always found ourselves on opposite sides during debates, although it was a friendly rivalry.
While in Form Five, our principal, Encharang Agas, took charge of our English Language class.
According to our class consensus, he scored 9 out of 10 and often explained English words in Iban. He had a stern demeanour and was always serious, but deep down, he was kind-hearted, and we held him in high regard.
Our History teacher was Gramong Juna (later Datuk) from Kanowit. He enjoyed teaching us, and we reciprocated the same sentiment.
Teacher Gramong once said about me, “Tawi is naughty, but during my class, he is attentive and always copies notes correctly.” (In the Senior Cambridge School Exam at the end of the year, I scored a distinction in History, much to Teacher Gramong’s satisfaction.)
Thus, I left SMK Saratok with a heavy heart after encountering various teachers and students with interesting personalities. By the end of the year, I had moved to Sibu and found employment as a coolie in the construction of Sarawak House, earning RM4.50 a day.
I was accompanied by two Indonesian relatives who earned higher wages for more strenuous work. After receiving my two-week pay, I resigned, but the experience was interesting.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the Sarawak Tribune.
