31c. Batu Gajah Prison (1945-1946)
INDEX
Japanese Prisoners
Now, let me touch on yet another group of the Batu Gajah Prison dwellers. They came from the Far East, from The Land of The Rising Sun. These samurais had deflated the British ego in February 1942, but now the British has returned to Asia and other parts of the world with a vengeance.
The two powers’ story reminds me of a folk tale about an orchard keeper who scared off boys desiring to pinch his fruits by pretending to chase them. After some time, a boy cleverer than his peers, begin to wonder why the orchard keeper always pretended to but never did chase them. He tested the situation by actually stealing the fruits. The orchard keeper only looked on as he had one wooden leg. Since then, threats and scares no longer worked as everyone knew the orchard keeper’s primary weakness.
I once drew a samurai sword after pressing a button. As sharp as razor blades, they were said to be ‘plated’ with human blood. A Japanese would not draw one unless it was to be fed with blood. Luckily no Japanese saw me draw the sword or I might have been decapitated.
The samurai sword is very different from swords carried by British Officers. It had a long hilt for easy grip with both hands and used mostly for chopping. Both the Japanese and British Officers used their swords to give order to their troops. One would say “Yat!” and the other “Charge!” The sharpness and weight of the samurai sword is evident by the one movement needed to chop a head, just like the guillotine. British Officers’ swords are kind of blunt and not sharp enough for killing. More for show, for parades and ceremonial events.
The power held by this Eastern race ended on 15 August 1945. After massive losses of lives in Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombings, Japan bowed in abject defeat. Prior to that, the call of “kurrah” (quick) from sentry guards could curdle our blood. Very few could say they were never slapped by Japanese sentry guards.
Now, all Japanese “kakas” (bosses) were being transported into the Batu Gajah Prison to swell its population. A perfect example of a twist of fate!
These newcomers were still in uniforms, some carrying socks filled with rice. They however disappeared soon after arriving. The next morning, while we hippie looking old timers were herded out ‘not like goats, and in fours’, we saw Japanese detainees in loincloths running in circles. They were later made to run further and faster, all the time led by an Indian exercise leader. Laggards were rapped with batons, ever so gently, never hard knocks. Each morning and afternoon, we watched this Japanese circus with grave concern, worried we would be likewise ordered to perform. But we never had to.
A detainee, formerly serving in the Japanese Police force pointed towards a Japanese prisoner, “That’s Konnichika, Perak Chief Police Officer!” Another detainee identified Yoshimura, the most dreaded Kempetei in Ipoh. “He had thrashed many a victim,” he added quietly.
I think these senior Japanese officials were taken into custody for “a dose of their own medicine” before being tried for war crimes.
Lucky Yoshimura, assigned as kitchen help, remained plump and healthy, but his friends were soon reduced to walking skeletons as they had to endure great hunger in contrast to sumptuous consumption of food prior to the surrender. I dare say the British Officer in Charge at the Batu Gajah Prison was the most talented slimming expert. Within three months, the once fat and often obese Japanese were skeletons whose ribs stuck out like fire wood sticks. The slimming secret lay with the Military Intelligence Chief, but I could guess.
Japanese detainees were billeted on the top floor where it was coldest at night, without blankets and with millions of bed bugs. I guess they were not fed sugar (just like us) and salt. They were fed food as little as ours, yet they had to perform strenuous exercises, as required by international law. I did not once see British Officers lay a finger on the Japanese. Neither were they anywhere near. Everything was carried out by their ‘golden children’, the Indians.
Yoshimura was nabbed by Indian soldiers in the act of smuggling rice hid between his bottom and his loincloth. The rice was meant for his hungry boss, the kempetei Chief for Ipoh. The Japanese were so hungry that rice hidden in such a location on a man’s body would still be eaten. I don’t know what punishment was meted out to Yoshimura.
A Blessing In Disguise
Although the Japanese Occupation was described as one of severe hardship and brutality, it left something positive, a sweet fruit to be plucked and enjoyed only after the surrender. Before the Occupation, Malays were just learning to understand politics and were just beginning to press for freedom and Independence. But Japan’s clarion call of ‘Asia for the Asians’ gave Malays a new breath of confidence and stirred in them a resounding love for ‘country and people’. This was the birth seed of nationalism; from there efforts towards Independence began to flower.
The victory of an Asian race encouraged nationalists all over Asia to charge ahead and challenge Western economic and political might. For so many centuries, Asians were stifled and intimidated and subjugated into humiliation. But the Japanese proved that invincible Britain could be brought to its knees at the feet of an Asian race. The crippling sense of fear and reverence for the West waned, supplanted by a new spirit that Asians could be equal to the white men. Japanese victory opened the eyes of Malay nationalists and encouraged them to stand up and to seize power from the West.
In this way, the Japanese Occupation had touched Malay lives, bringing positive attitudinal changes. When the British returned to rule Malaya in 1945, they no longer faced Malays of the pre war mould. They were confronted instead by a Malay community whose souls and spirits were no longer static and no longer accepting.
Britain had to devise new ways to rule the Malays, to subdue and damper their nationalistic fervour. This led to the Malayan Union, a proposal fraught with politically debilitating elements to impede Malay move towards progress. Malays who have learned to understand British ploys and ruses rejected the Malayan Union and moved ahead towards their aspirations, Independence.
In short, post war Malays were a breed with new found strength, more believe in themselves, higher self esteem, less ‘reverence’ for white men, more conscious of their political rights and possessed steel like resolve to determine their own future.
My Father’s Visits
My beloved father travelled by timber lorries and bullock carts to visit me in prison several times. Old and sick, his heart was still bleeding from losing two sons. Both my immediate older brother Alli and my immediate younger brother Yahaya had been killed by the MPAJA, Malayan People’s Anti-Japanese Army.
My wife never came. My father, who did not want her to see the squalor I was living in, did not bring her. Batu 20 folks continued to assist my family during my imprisonment and I shall be eternally grateful to these noble souls.
District Police Officer J. Birch
While in prison I met two Malay constables from Bagan Datuk who were arrested on charges pressed against them by the Chinese. When the two found out my full name and my pre war profession, they disclosed that District Police Chief J. Birch had gone to Taiping to arrest me in December 1941. But due to Japanese lightning advance, he had to leave Taiping. He later rushed to Teluk Anson to take action against Police Inspector Yahaya who was away without leave but was intercepted by the Japanese and killed.
My Release
Detained without any mention of a trial, I often asked the FSS Officer about my case but received no satisfactory answer. I was already looking like a hippie. One day I was asked to come out. I thought it was my release, especially when many fellow detainees have left. The one with numerous wives was one of the earliest to depart.
After collecting my belongings which were kept in a storeroom, I was taken in a truck back to the Ipoh Police Station where I was once an ‘honourable guest’. I was thrilled to see a man I had known while moving with the Fujiwara Kikan. Hamzah A Cunard was with the IIL (Indian Independence League) and I with the KMM then. We were able to talk for only two days because as soon as the British Intelligence got wind that we were birds of a feather, we were instantly separated. Although they shut our mouths, our eyes played the role of our mouths.
Although we were not allowed to talk, no one stopped us from sharing food sent by Hamzah’s family. Police constables at the station did not have the heart to stop me from sharing food because they saw how feeble I had become. Further, very few senior officers have reported for duty. Many more have been detained by the BMA on charges of complicity with the Japanese administration and brutality. Able to enjoy meat and chicken, my skin and bone body begin to fill out. I began to recall warder Mastan’s words often.
Two weeks in the Ipoh Police Station, I was invited to meet the British Military Intelligence Chief in Ipoh. I was made to stand outside his office for hours, to teach me a lesson, to show me who was master, and to make me a more submissive man by the time I entered his room.
Holding a letter in his hand, he asked if and how I knew Malay Regiment Education Officer Cikgu Abu Samah . My heart fluttered. Was the letter from Cikgu Abu Samah whom I assisted after the fall of Singapore? He must have written to the BMA!
I explained that I knew Cikgu Abu Samah long before the war. As fate had it, I met him again soon after the capitulation of Singapore where he was minding hundreds of hungry Malay soldiers and family members. It was there I gave them money and food before arranging their return to mainland Malaya.
The Officer asked further, “How many white men did you assist?” I replied, “None.” He wanted to know why not. I said, “I did not have the opportunity to do so. You must think for yourself. I have to take care of the Malays, my people, first. Furthermore, what would the Japanese say if I helped white men?!” This officer gave the impression Malay lives were worthless. He also did not wish to see me freed. He would have liked me to be hanged. I saw all that in his eyes.
He then tossed me a telegram stating that my eldest daughter was seriously ill, and asked, “Would you like to go home?!” I said “Yes,” with earnestness, especially after seeing that the telegram bore a much earlier date.
“If you want to go home, sign this statement!” pushing a document under my nose. I read the prepared text. It was an admission of crime for having been with the Japanese. It was Hobson’s choice. There was also another statement that I would not leave my house without permission from the British Intelligence Chief in Taiping.
This British Officer looked ready to slurp my blood if he could! What more did he expect? Was it not good enough that a Malay had helped his own people?
Before leaving, I asked him to investigate my case thoroughly. If I was guilty, I was willing to accept any sentence after a fair trial. I admitted that I was with the Japanese, but if he himself was invited by six armed Japanese, he too would have gone with them. ‘No use farting against thunder’. The British Government was irresponsible; fleeing from Malaya when they were the ones entrusted to defend it.
After a heated exchange of words, I signed the documents with my daughter’s face flashing across my eyes. I returned to my lock up to bid my friends goodbye with a message, “Don’t forget to arrange an A.T. Club gathering some day!”
Stepping out of the police lock up, I inhaled a lung full of fresh air. Even fresh air seemed more delicious outside the prison compound. With $4.00 in my pocket, I made my way to Ipoh town to look for my brother’s friends, but none would come near me. They were too afraid.
Dejected and despondent, I boarded a bus which had planks as steps and returned to Taiping. In the bus, a certain whiff flirted with my nostrils and I found warder Mastan’s words one hundred percent accurate. In Taiping, I sought a Chinese man from Batu 20 who handed me $10 without my asking. Malays would not even see me. Did it have something to do with my much misunderstood war activities, or were the Malays I met truly penniless? Perhaps there were reasons I could not fathom.
From Taiping, I got a free ride to Batu 20 in a lorry carrying bananas. I arrived at my battered hut late at night. After calling out their names several times, my eldest girl said, “Mother, that sounds like father!” For as long as I live I cannot forget that sweet sentence. I was reunited with my family after being imprisoned for many dreadful months.
For what and for whom?
Edited by Jomo K. S.
Publisher: Utusan Publications & Distributors Sdn Bhd
No. 1 & 3, Jalan 3/91A, Taman Shamelin Perkasa, Cheras, 56100 Kuala Lumpur
Tel: 03-9285 6577
Foreign Distributor: Singapore University Press Pte Ltd
Mybooks.com.my
Price: RM50.00
Japanese PrisonersNow, let me touch on yet another group of the Batu Gajah Prison dwellers. They came from the Far East, from The Land of The Rising Sun. These samurais had deflated the British ego in February 1942, but now the British has returned to Asia and other parts of the world with a vengeance.
The two powers’ story reminds me of a folk tale about an orchard keeper who scared off boys desiring to pinch his fruits by pretending to chase them. After some time, a boy cleverer than his peers, begin to wonder why the orchard keeper always pretended to but never did chase them. He tested the situation by actually stealing the fruits. The orchard keeper only looked on as he had one wooden leg. Since then, threats and scares no longer worked as everyone knew the orchard keeper’s primary weakness.
I once drew a samurai sword after pressing a button. As sharp as razor blades, they were said to be ‘plated’ with human blood. A Japanese would not draw one unless it was to be fed with blood. Luckily no Japanese saw me draw the sword or I might have been decapitated.
The samurai sword is very different from swords carried by British Officers. It had a long hilt for easy grip with both hands and used mostly for chopping. Both the Japanese and British Officers used their swords to give order to their troops. One would say “Yat!” and the other “Charge!” The sharpness and weight of the samurai sword is evident by the one movement needed to chop a head, just like the guillotine. British Officers’ swords are kind of blunt and not sharp enough for killing. More for show, for parades and ceremonial events.
The power held by this Eastern race ended on 15 August 1945. After massive losses of lives in Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombings, Japan bowed in abject defeat. Prior to that, the call of “kurrah” (quick) from sentry guards could curdle our blood. Very few could say they were never slapped by Japanese sentry guards.
Now, all Japanese “kakas” (bosses) were being transported into the Batu Gajah Prison to swell its population. A perfect example of a twist of fate!
These newcomers were still in uniforms, some carrying socks filled with rice. They however disappeared soon after arriving. The next morning, while we hippie looking old timers were herded out ‘not like goats, and in fours’, we saw Japanese detainees in loincloths running in circles. They were later made to run further and faster, all the time led by an Indian exercise leader. Laggards were rapped with batons, ever so gently, never hard knocks. Each morning and afternoon, we watched this Japanese circus with grave concern, worried we would be likewise ordered to perform. But we never had to.
A detainee, formerly serving in the Japanese Police force pointed towards a Japanese prisoner, “That’s Konnichika, Perak Chief Police Officer!” Another detainee identified Yoshimura, the most dreaded Kempetei in Ipoh. “He had thrashed many a victim,” he added quietly.
I think these senior Japanese officials were taken into custody for “a dose of their own medicine” before being tried for war crimes.
Lucky Yoshimura, assigned as kitchen help, remained plump and healthy, but his friends were soon reduced to walking skeletons as they had to endure great hunger in contrast to sumptuous consumption of food prior to the surrender. I dare say the British Officer in Charge at the Batu Gajah Prison was the most talented slimming expert. Within three months, the once fat and often obese Japanese were skeletons whose ribs stuck out like fire wood sticks. The slimming secret lay with the Military Intelligence Chief, but I could guess.
Japanese detainees were billeted on the top floor where it was coldest at night, without blankets and with millions of bed bugs. I guess they were not fed sugar (just like us) and salt. They were fed food as little as ours, yet they had to perform strenuous exercises, as required by international law. I did not once see British Officers lay a finger on the Japanese. Neither were they anywhere near. Everything was carried out by their ‘golden children’, the Indians.
Yoshimura was nabbed by Indian soldiers in the act of smuggling rice hid between his bottom and his loincloth. The rice was meant for his hungry boss, the kempetei Chief for Ipoh. The Japanese were so hungry that rice hidden in such a location on a man’s body would still be eaten. I don’t know what punishment was meted out to Yoshimura.
A Blessing In Disguise
Although the Japanese Occupation was described as one of severe hardship and brutality, it left something positive, a sweet fruit to be plucked and enjoyed only after the surrender. Before the Occupation, Malays were just learning to understand politics and were just beginning to press for freedom and Independence. But Japan’s clarion call of ‘Asia for the Asians’ gave Malays a new breath of confidence and stirred in them a resounding love for ‘country and people’. This was the birth seed of nationalism; from there efforts towards Independence began to flower.
The victory of an Asian race encouraged nationalists all over Asia to charge ahead and challenge Western economic and political might. For so many centuries, Asians were stifled and intimidated and subjugated into humiliation. But the Japanese proved that invincible Britain could be brought to its knees at the feet of an Asian race. The crippling sense of fear and reverence for the West waned, supplanted by a new spirit that Asians could be equal to the white men. Japanese victory opened the eyes of Malay nationalists and encouraged them to stand up and to seize power from the West.
In this way, the Japanese Occupation had touched Malay lives, bringing positive attitudinal changes. When the British returned to rule Malaya in 1945, they no longer faced Malays of the pre war mould. They were confronted instead by a Malay community whose souls and spirits were no longer static and no longer accepting.
Britain had to devise new ways to rule the Malays, to subdue and damper their nationalistic fervour. This led to the Malayan Union, a proposal fraught with politically debilitating elements to impede Malay move towards progress. Malays who have learned to understand British ploys and ruses rejected the Malayan Union and moved ahead towards their aspirations, Independence.
In short, post war Malays were a breed with new found strength, more believe in themselves, higher self esteem, less ‘reverence’ for white men, more conscious of their political rights and possessed steel like resolve to determine their own future.
My Father’s Visits
My beloved father travelled by timber lorries and bullock carts to visit me in prison several times. Old and sick, his heart was still bleeding from losing two sons. Both my immediate older brother Alli and my immediate younger brother Yahaya had been killed by the MPAJA, Malayan People’s Anti-Japanese Army.
My wife never came. My father, who did not want her to see the squalor I was living in, did not bring her. Batu 20 folks continued to assist my family during my imprisonment and I shall be eternally grateful to these noble souls.
District Police Officer J. Birch
While in prison I met two Malay constables from Bagan Datuk who were arrested on charges pressed against them by the Chinese. When the two found out my full name and my pre war profession, they disclosed that District Police Chief J. Birch had gone to Taiping to arrest me in December 1941. But due to Japanese lightning advance, he had to leave Taiping. He later rushed to Teluk Anson to take action against Police Inspector Yahaya who was away without leave but was intercepted by the Japanese and killed.
My Release
Detained without any mention of a trial, I often asked the FSS Officer about my case but received no satisfactory answer. I was already looking like a hippie. One day I was asked to come out. I thought it was my release, especially when many fellow detainees have left. The one with numerous wives was one of the earliest to depart.
After collecting my belongings which were kept in a storeroom, I was taken in a truck back to the Ipoh Police Station where I was once an ‘honourable guest’. I was thrilled to see a man I had known while moving with the Fujiwara Kikan. Hamzah A Cunard was with the IIL (Indian Independence League) and I with the KMM then. We were able to talk for only two days because as soon as the British Intelligence got wind that we were birds of a feather, we were instantly separated. Although they shut our mouths, our eyes played the role of our mouths.
Although we were not allowed to talk, no one stopped us from sharing food sent by Hamzah’s family. Police constables at the station did not have the heart to stop me from sharing food because they saw how feeble I had become. Further, very few senior officers have reported for duty. Many more have been detained by the BMA on charges of complicity with the Japanese administration and brutality. Able to enjoy meat and chicken, my skin and bone body begin to fill out. I began to recall warder Mastan’s words often.
Two weeks in the Ipoh Police Station, I was invited to meet the British Military Intelligence Chief in Ipoh. I was made to stand outside his office for hours, to teach me a lesson, to show me who was master, and to make me a more submissive man by the time I entered his room.
Holding a letter in his hand, he asked if and how I knew Malay Regiment Education Officer Cikgu Abu Samah . My heart fluttered. Was the letter from Cikgu Abu Samah whom I assisted after the fall of Singapore? He must have written to the BMA!
I explained that I knew Cikgu Abu Samah long before the war. As fate had it, I met him again soon after the capitulation of Singapore where he was minding hundreds of hungry Malay soldiers and family members. It was there I gave them money and food before arranging their return to mainland Malaya.
The Officer asked further, “How many white men did you assist?” I replied, “None.” He wanted to know why not. I said, “I did not have the opportunity to do so. You must think for yourself. I have to take care of the Malays, my people, first. Furthermore, what would the Japanese say if I helped white men?!” This officer gave the impression Malay lives were worthless. He also did not wish to see me freed. He would have liked me to be hanged. I saw all that in his eyes.
He then tossed me a telegram stating that my eldest daughter was seriously ill, and asked, “Would you like to go home?!” I said “Yes,” with earnestness, especially after seeing that the telegram bore a much earlier date.
“If you want to go home, sign this statement!” pushing a document under my nose. I read the prepared text. It was an admission of crime for having been with the Japanese. It was Hobson’s choice. There was also another statement that I would not leave my house without permission from the British Intelligence Chief in Taiping.
This British Officer looked ready to slurp my blood if he could! What more did he expect? Was it not good enough that a Malay had helped his own people?
Before leaving, I asked him to investigate my case thoroughly. If I was guilty, I was willing to accept any sentence after a fair trial. I admitted that I was with the Japanese, but if he himself was invited by six armed Japanese, he too would have gone with them. ‘No use farting against thunder’. The British Government was irresponsible; fleeing from Malaya when they were the ones entrusted to defend it.
After a heated exchange of words, I signed the documents with my daughter’s face flashing across my eyes. I returned to my lock up to bid my friends goodbye with a message, “Don’t forget to arrange an A.T. Club gathering some day!”
Stepping out of the police lock up, I inhaled a lung full of fresh air. Even fresh air seemed more delicious outside the prison compound. With $4.00 in my pocket, I made my way to Ipoh town to look for my brother’s friends, but none would come near me. They were too afraid.
Dejected and despondent, I boarded a bus which had planks as steps and returned to Taiping. In the bus, a certain whiff flirted with my nostrils and I found warder Mastan’s words one hundred percent accurate. In Taiping, I sought a Chinese man from Batu 20 who handed me $10 without my asking. Malays would not even see me. Did it have something to do with my much misunderstood war activities, or were the Malays I met truly penniless? Perhaps there were reasons I could not fathom.
From Taiping, I got a free ride to Batu 20 in a lorry carrying bananas. I arrived at my battered hut late at night. After calling out their names several times, my eldest girl said, “Mother, that sounds like father!” For as long as I live I cannot forget that sweet sentence. I was reunited with my family after being imprisoned for many dreadful months.
For what and for whom?
Endnotes to Chapter 31Translated by Insun Mustapha
With the help of his boss Mr. R. J. Heith, Zakaria, an Agricultural Assistant in Sungai Manik, was released from prison.
Cikgu Abu Samah, from Negeri Sembilan, was a teacher at Seremban’s King George V School before becoming Malay Regiment’s Education Officer. I knew him through my brother in law, Major Ismail bin Taha.
Cikgu Abu Samah’s letter read in part: “I, Cikgu Abu Samah, Malay Regiment’s Education Officer would like to inform you that after the fall of Singapore to the Japanese, hundreds of Malay soldiers and family members were in my care. We have not received our salaries for two months and had no money...Encik Mustapha Haji Hussain came to Istana Kampung Gelam where we were taking refuge to give us money, rice and food which enabled us to survive until he (Encik Mustapha) was able to arrange our travel home to our respective villages...”
Edited by Jomo K. S.
Publisher: Utusan Publications & Distributors Sdn Bhd
No. 1 & 3, Jalan 3/91A, Taman Shamelin Perkasa, Cheras, 56100 Kuala Lumpur
Tel: 03-9285 6577
Foreign Distributor: Singapore University Press Pte Ltd
Mybooks.com.my
Price: RM50.00
posted 12:37 AM
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