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Tears From
Yesterday

Growing up in a poor family made you

realise luxury is so far-reaching…only
tears would keep you happy.

By
Nordin Abu Bakar

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 ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I would like to thank my family , friends,

MSGA Team ,especially Dee Deaty and
Farrah Hashim who have contributed
their great ideas and valuable
comments in completing this writing. I
am overwhelmed by your support and
warm gratitude that made this production
feasible. Any suggestion or correction
can be forwarded to the email below.

NORDIN ABU BAKAR

Nilai, Negeri Sembilan
abubakarn355@gmail.comm

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 DISCLAIMER

Although the publisher and the author

have made every effort to ensure that
the information in this e-book was
correct at release time and while this
publication is designed to provide
accurate information in regard to the
narration of the facts and events
covered, the publisher and the author
assume no responsibility for errors,
inaccuracies, omissions, or any other
inconsistencies herein and hereby
disclaim any liability to any party for
any loss, damage, or disruption
caused by errors or omissions,
whether such errors or omissions
result from negligence, accident, or
any other cause.

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 Approved and Publsihed

Edited and designed

by

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 Table of Contents

Prologue 7

Chapter 1
My Hometown 8

Chapter 2
The Innocent Thoughts 13

Chapter 3
My Little Universe 19

Chapter 4
Dreaming in the Dark. 23

Chapter 5
My New Life Finally Arrived 30
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Prologue

“Tears from Yesterday” tells a story about my

childhood in the 60s and 70s. Growing up in a poor
family makes you realise how far determination of a
child can nurture his future life. As a child I was told
all the things we could not have. We just could not.
Period. The needs to have what we could not have,
however, burnt unrelenting desire to strive. So maybe
one day I could have it. In the meantime, streams of
tears would compensate the agony of the painful hold
back. I survived that childhood and this story dictates
some of the events that has become a colourful
background of my memory. A simple life in a dusty
town of Pasir Mas. Everyday. I struggled not to get
hurt or yelled at. I was weak, small and skinny with no
skill to play even a simple stupid game. Everybody
seemed to know how to run my life better than me. All
I could do was to hide behind a stained curtain and
wiped my tears away. Life went on with me tagging
along until a new fate dropped in. I did not know what
the future holds but I knew my future would change. I
wanted to go and see my new life, badly.

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 Chapter 1
My Hometown
Hometown was where the fun is
Meeting friends for a cuppa
Chilling for the night
The lights and the movies

The memory lingers forever

The chance comes once awhile
To go back and feel the air again
Walk down the memory lane
Relive the loveliest moments
The time of yesteryears

My little hometown
Stands as it were
Welcomes the faces of the past
That once pacing the streets
The noises, hustling and bustling
To earn a few ringgits
For the hungry ones at home

Pasir Mas
Always dear to me
The place that witnessed my childhood
And saw my sadness
…..with the tears from yesterday
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Pasir Mas, a small town in northeastern of Malaysia, hasn’t
changed much over the years. I grew up just a couple of
kilometers from the town center. When it is your birth land, it
holds a special place in your heart. The point where it all began.
The time when you sneaked into the world and breathed the air
for the first time. Every now and then I would go back and
reminiscent on the good old days of my childhood. For me it is
everything to have the opportunity to see this place whenever I
miss my home and family. I could always drive over and be there
in no time. The house we once lived now is owned by my sister
and we are free to drop by whenever we feel like. But the house
has been renovated and the new look and feel have disconnected
me from the past.

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We had a dilapidated wooden house with a thatched roof.
The roof leaked when it rained. The wooden floor squeaked
everywhere, and, in most places, the broken plank let you see
all the horrible trash we threw below. I always laid flat and
peeked down below and wondered why the trash has not
disappeared so we could have a clean and proper area below
the house. The house was on stilts, as most of the houses in
those days, so the floor was high above my head, and I used
to play under it in the afternoon. But we liked the thatched
roof as it cools the house right through the day. I would run
as fast as I could from my school under the hot sun and
rushed into the shade of my house to escape the heat. It was
awesome. But we managed and lived there without feeling
sorry for being poor or anything.

The Main Street of Pasir Mas in the 70s

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 The town of Pasir
Mas (main market is
in the background)

As a child I did not need a “rich people house” (referred to the

brick houses as compared to the wooden houses that poor folks
have), I just need a place for me to be with mom and dad, have
dinner and wait for the morning to come again. As a child I did
not demand a lot of things from my parent; just played with
whatever I had, wore whatever clothes hanged on the line, and ate
whatever in the kitchen. I don’t remember going off to play with
other kids because they had things that I didn’t; they liked to
show off the things that their parents bought for them—some new
toys or something.

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 Pasir Mas Railway Station

The town of Pasir Mas was utterly important to us as it was the

place where Mak and Ayah made a living. The railway station was
bustling with people, mainly traders, going about their business.
As time went by, the hustling and bustling seemed to be subsided
but Pasir Mas remains an important town to us and the folks
living there.

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 Chapter 2

The Innocent Thoughts

I always contemplate my moments in life and go back to relive

the events of the past. It is my way of dealing with my pasts; some
good and some are just bad. I always feel that it’s not fair but at
the same time try to be positive and look at it from different
perspectives-;accepting it as blessing in disguise. Nevertheless, the
pain is real, and the sadness remains for as long as I started to
question the fate of my life. I hope the stories of my past
conciliate me with the pre-determination of my life. In the end
maybe I could accept the fate and be thankful for what that has
been bestowed upon me .

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I just could not imagine how
I survived in those days. God
really works in mysterious
ways. I was alone most of the
time; playing around my
house from dawn to dusk,
every single day until I
registered myself in a
primary school. Mak and
Ayah were busy earning
money, so I was there
keeping myself busy with
whatever we had around the
house. Our family is well-
known in the village for being
big and poor; even as I
walked down the street some
people would ask if I wanted
to come and live with them.

“ Maybe this kid has a

brighter future with us”, they
would say. With my sister , Kartini.

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 I did not understand what
they meant but I knew only
one word to reply---NO!. As
a small kid I knew my
mother and father and my
way home; I was always
welcomed there. I could rest
myself in that house for the
night although sometime my
sleep was interrupted by the
leaking roof that would be
blown off during a storm.

With my brother, Nor Azlan

Find an empty corner in the house, get a pillow and blanket, and
there would be your bed for the night. It’s pathetic but that’s the
life I lived for so many years during my early childhood. But
somehow, I survived; and my other 11 brothers and sisters
survived that as well. Pretty amazing, I supposed. 15
 One of the favourite
games in our
neighborhood

I remember myself always sitting alone by the window and

looking out at the other kids playing games. I never had an urge
to join them because for me the games they played were all silly
and made them dirty all over. I just did not want to get dirty. The
games such as “petong tin”, “polis pencuri”, “bola awa”, “lawe
guroh”, “buoh getoh”, and many more were the favourites----but
not me. I also have never been to anywhere only an occasion trip
to my grandmother’s. For some reasons, however, I always
wanted to go to that big mosque near my house. No one in my
family was a mosque-goer; my parents would come home only
when the night falls and would be busy with the house chores by
then. I did not do any chore but still could not get to that
mosque. One day my brother was about to leave when I knew
he’s going to the mosque. Maybe he had other agenda as I never
see him going there before. Maybe there is a special event going
on, I did not know.
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Can I follow you to the mosque?” I asked him.
Looking at me with that annoying face, he did not say anything.
And for me that meant a green light. I tagged along and before I
knew it, he was joined by his friends, so something must be going
on. I did not care what he would do with his friends, all I wanted
to was to go to that mosque. And that night I finally did. The
mosque was only about a 5-minute walk from my house. Literally
a stone-throw away from my house but nevertheless it was as if a
journey of lifetime. I guess my brother will get all the pahala ever
since he brought me there because that was the turning point of
my life---the day I knew my Islam. I sat at the back while my
brothers was doing stuff with his friends. Once in a while he
would come and checked me out. I saw in the front a huge
place(a mimbar/pulpit) with stairs going up. I thought that God
maybe sitting up there and we all pray for him from down here. It
was so strange for me but I liked it there and felt so happy being
there.

The very mosque I

used to go still
standing
majestically today.

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“Can I go to the front and join those people
praying?”, I asked my brother.
“No you can’t! just stay right there !”, he
gestured me with his hand.
“ Why? “ I asked.
“Because your penis is so small that’s why, we
grown up have big penis so we can pray at the
front”, my brother told me.
And I believed him. So for the whole week I
tried to make my penis grow big so that I can
join the big people in the front row. I frequented
the mosque after that where I learnt so many
things. I did it all on my own and since back
then everything was free at the mosque ;so, I was
okay. I had never been to the Quranic classes or
pre-school because they all cost money. Even
though the Quranic class was next door taught
by my own auntie. It was so unfortunate to be
poor, I must say.

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 Chapter 3
My Little Universe
Looking into the horizon
The sky looks old and painful
As if the day would go and never comes back
And the darkness brings forth uncertainties

So reflective
Of me and my time
The world and life stand behind
As I continue my journey ……

I remember the tears

Rolled down my cheek
From the pain of yesterday
When Mom said she wanted to go away
Because we were naughty

Deep down I knew

She would never do that
But the thought makes me sad, nevertheless
Mom was everything to me
The queen of my little universe

Life was hard for mom and dad

They struggled to feed us
They struggled to fix the leaking roof
They struggled to mend the squeaking
wooden floor
Only an empty smile
Pursued my nagging question, why?
I didn’t know we were poor
That money was everything to grown-ups

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By the time I got into primary school, my life was pretty
much a mess. Everyone seemed to know how to run my
life. I would spend time with my relatives here and there
for a short period of time like 1-2 months. I just did not
understand back then as if there was not enough food at
my house. My auntie was the one who persistently
wanted me to be with her all the time. She was a widow
with no kid. And as I remember her well, she was very
strict lady.
Sometimes, it was too
much to put up with
her, so we just
ignored her all
together. I told father
that I would like to go
back home. He
understood well. So,
one fine day I heard
them calling names of
each other on top of
their voices. I knew
father was trying to
get me back.
With Grandma in 1969

I remember to sit by the wall listening to everything

that they had to say to each other; some of which I
never got to understand the meaning of the words
or what they were referring to. World had gone
upside down because of me; I was so sad and felt it
was all my fault.
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 But from that day onwards
I was back to my old corner
in the house; the place I
always called home. It was
good to be back. My father
was very concerned about
my study. I ‘ve got no
money or land to leave
when I die so study hard to
support your family…that
would be the thing father
repeats all the time like a
lyric from a song. But he
never had time to come and
meet my teachers, well in
those days parents were not
that concern to drop by the
school and say hello to the
teachers.
My Father, Abu Bakar

“Ayah has to sign the paper,” I told mom late

one night so I can bring it to the school the
following day. Father was also there, rolling his
leaf cigarettes but didn’t pay much attention.

“What paper ? ” they both asked as if it was

something they could not afford to commit.

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The school asked if I wanted to get into this
express class or not; and ask your parent to
sign if they agree. They had this express
class program where kids in this program
will do Year 3 and Year 4 in just one year.
So, I saved one year and got into secondary
school one year earlier than everybody else.
It was not that hard academically, but I got
into a lot of trouble socially. I guess one year
makes a lot of difference in the growing up
days. That’s why I hate my secondary school
years a lot.

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 Chapter 4

Dreaming in the Dark

I was happy in my own little way

The tears came and gone
For the things I didn’t do
Or something I could not have
And the heart-breaking voices
That pitied my hopelessness

When the ‘pelita’ died

I stared into the darkness
Wishing my soul to go
To find another life
To live without prejudice

Where happiness is measured in loves

Wealth is defined by kindness
Luxury is immaterial
And no one is poor anymore

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I grew up without a bicycle of my own or
a TV in the house. I never complained
or asked for one it’s just not fair that’s all.
When our favourite show was coming on
the air we would sneak out to the
neighbour’s house. This had to be done
discretely because otherwise the “small
ones”—my younger brothers and sisters---
would follow; and that will ruin
everything. I remember one night the
neighbour gave us cookies instead so we
can go home and do not bother them so
much.

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So pathetic! But that’s the life of poor
kids ---the ones that never understood
why we were as we were. So, for me a
TV is not just a square thing on the wall
with pictures and sound ; it was a symbol
of freedom that cannot be denied or
taken away from me any longer. No one
will give me cookies anymore to hush me
away from my favourite program. So,
from the time I could afford to get my
own TV; I’ve never been without it ever
since. Even though I don’t watch it that
often like I used to, the TV will always be
there for me.

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 Receiving the prize from the late Chief Minister

I did okay in school; good enough to earn me a prize for

coming in second in the class. I determined to work hard
and keep struggling no matter what. A teacher gave a
homework one day during my primary school. He was
known to be strict and would whip your ass for no reason. I
had to find the meaning of some Malay proverbs
(peribahasa Melayu). They were not in the textbook, and I
did not know where to find them. It was late so I was sent to
bed before completing my homework. I cried the whole
time until Mak had to wake my brother up to see what the
homework is all about. With tears in my eyes and sobbing
endlessly I waited by my brother’s side as he went through
the proverbs. He did most of them and threw the book
back to me annoyingly. I wiped the tears away and hugged
my homework dearly. It was good enough for me. The next
day the teacher did not even look at the homework, but I
was happy to know a lot of the proverbs. In my own little
way, I love and appreciate knowledge more than anything
else. I guess that’s how I survive all these years.
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Travelling was another luxury thing back then
when I was a kid. Father never had a car or
motorcycle. He had an old bicycle once that he
used to go to work. But it was not a problem for a
poor kid like myself because I never understood
why people go places anyway. “makan angin” they
say, a phrase that had no meaning whatsoever to
me. I would be sick when I travelled by bus until
I hated doing that altogether.

“Never mind father I can stay at home”, I

remember responding when he offered to take us
for our regular visit to grandma’s. And I stayed
home minding my own business and playing
around my house. I live with that habit for so long
until I developed a phobia for travelling.
Nowadays travelling will mean hard time for me;
anxiety will come in and I would feel very much
uneasy all the time. Never mind I can stay home.
Indeed, I would rather stay home. 27
I had never wandered off to the town or anything
so father was so pleased with me. When
everybody was off into the kampung to play; I
would stick around the house waiting for mom
and dad to come home. “ a good little boy”---I
must credit myself on this one---very proud of it
indeed. But one time “BOBBY” was coming to
town. That big blockbuster movie was coming to
the Rex cinema in Pasir Mas—that old cinema is
no longer there anymore. I miss that big painted
poster as well; the one that was built at the junction
near the bus station--- I would pass this junction
late at night accompanied my auntie and used to
stare at that huge poster under the street light---one
day I will see that movie, I whispered to myself.
But I never had a chance to go.

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This time I would go to see Bobby; so, made
plan with my buddy to get into the cinema.
Being a good son, I asked my father for
permission. He stared at me and said…what!
And miss your Maghrib prayers. The show
started around Maghrib time and for sure I
would miss the prayers. But looking at me
maybe he felt the need for me to get some fun,
so he let me go with some money for the ticket.
We could only get one ticket because the
cinema was full. Never mind we could share the
seat. I remember watching the movie with both
of us sitting in a seat; we took turn to move in
and out of that small wooden seat. That was the
most enjoyable time of my life. Sadly, I did miss
my Maghrib prayers.
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 Chapter 5

My New Life Finally Arrived

Back then I was about 11 years old when this

headmaster of my school dropped by and
delivered the letter. I was playing with my
brothers and sister. When Mom and Dad
went off to work; we were left to care on our
own. It was the school holidays and during
this time we just played around the house just
to keep everyone within the compound and
not to be too adventurous and wandered off
into the kampung. All of us would get into
trouble if there is anyone missing by the
Maghrib time. When the headmaster who
happened to be our next door neighbour
called us out, I sneaked in between my
brothers and tried to be nosy. Never
expected any letter for myself.
But that time it was for me.

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“Ni ada surat untuk Nordin”, (This is a
letter for Nordin) said Cikgu Aziz

“Surat apo Cikgu?”, (What letter,

Teacher?) my sister asked in a surprise
tone.

“Surat tawaran gi skoloh sains,” (an offer

letter to a Science School) he said .

My sister explained everything to us and

we jumped up and down again feeling
happy of something. I wasn’t sure of what
was going on but

We understood the letter because my

sister was already at sri puteri at that time
and my brothers were already at this
school. Now it is my turn. We maybe
poor but alhamdulillah. God is gracious.
Not knowing exactly how to react, I folded
that letter and held it tight like it was the
only thing that had mattered to me. It was
an historical moment that has changed my
life forever.

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There would be no more fighting
with my brothers for so little food that
we have on the dinner mat. No more
tears from Mom for not being able to
give what I wanted. Maybe I will be
better off, so I thought. I remember
Ayah was so excited for me but at the
same time could not figure out where
to get the money for all the stuff that I
needed for the asrama: the clothes,
bedsheet, uniform and all. But as a
child, I did not really think of those
things.

I looked out into the dark night, and

smile for the new place I would go
and new “happiness” I would find.
My wish had always been to leave my
house, not because I hated my family
but to escape the hardships that had
never seemed to leave us.

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The most fun thing to do every
morning was to see the out-of-town
kids arriving by the busloads. The
black smoke that the buses left
would choke you up pretty badly.
Behind that smoke a pretty little face
would emerge like an angel sent
down from the sky. She was the
prettiest little thing I had ever seen.
And so did the rest of the boys. Her
bus usually came last maybe because
her place was far away from the
school; I did not know.

My heart fluttered and wish I could

be with her forever. Like Cinderella
from the story book. But when my
Cinderella lost her shoe, I was not
the one who found it. Fate has it that
we found our own different paths in
life.

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 The exam for primary school
students was called Peperiksaan
Penilaian Darjah Lima. The
assessment would determine our
performance for the last five years
and for those with good result could
go to a good school. I knew the
exam was important but never
comprehended the extend the
results would do to us. I was nervous
as usual but didn’t properly prepare
for it.

The teachers gave us some sample

questions from the past but that was
it. So I took the exam and answered
the questions based on my guts and
guesses only. I got 2As and 3Bs; that
was it. I was neither happy nor sad
because I had done my part. I took
the exam and answered all the
questions. Neither the teachers nor
anyone from my family said
anything. I guess they all thought it
was a bad result.
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I searched for the light
That no one believed was there for me
But I knew somehow
Allah heard my little voice
Just to be a better son
To mom and dad

I will end the pain

And hopelessness
From their faces
To feel the happiness again
And give me a beautiful smile

I will go
And find my fate
To the place I have never been
Please take me, Dad!
One last time
To my destiny …..

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