On 5 February this year, nine remarkable persons were honoured and named Tokoh Maulidul Rasul 1433H. Honestly I can't recall who and how many people received this award last year, although I know the King's Speech won the Oscar for Best Picture. But this year is special and exceptional because one of the recipients was Muhamad Fuad Yeoh, Deputy President of the Chinese Muslim Association. Never heard? I happen to know him because we're together for eight years at Tiger Lane. When we first met, we're culturally worlds apart: he's a Malay-speaking Chinese and I was a Kelantanese-speaking Kelantanese.
Some of the stories of Muhd Fuad are stuff of urban legends. He signed up at the great school on 5 January 1966 as Yeoh Keat Hian, the only Chinese and non-Muslim in our class of 73 boys and no girls. He did take some time to adapt and adjust: two days. He just rolled on and melted in, and nobody sensed any difference. We decided to call him Keat, I'm not sure how, but, in hindsight, it certainly sounds a lot sharper than Ayeoh or Ahian. Anyway all his three names are now permanently etched on the school's hall of fame for racking up the most A in MCE in 1971. (I flunked my Physics. We're worlds apart, remember?) No pushover in sports, he's in the school rugby, volleyball and athletics teams, proof that he's both brain and brute. He even entered a state-level sajak reading contest, hard to believe, but proof enough that everybody has a dark side (ha ha ha). Again he's the best student, this time for HSC in 1973. I hate this guy.
Things came thick and fast for him as he's made a prefect and got more than he bargained for. The prefects' only substantive function in our school was to carry out weekly stake-outs and raids on the Friday prayer shirkers and stragglers. For Fuad, this should easily rank as one of the most challenging and defining episodes in his formative phase. It's painful when you can't walk the talk, if you know what I mean. But he took it all in his stride with all the skill and talent that largely foreshadowed his leadership flair and energy in forward years.
Only ten of us from the entering class of 1966 left over after MCE. Some had gone overseas to study engineering, some had gone to Serdang to study animal husbandry, a few flew to ITM for lots of things. Students from other schools came in to fill up the space. (Still no girls). We're together in the Form Six hostel for two years. Fuad had a room all to himself right at the end of the block. I've no recollection of who exactly allowed him to hole up there. I think it's his good friend Azlan, the school captain, who himself took a posh studio on the top floor. Cronyism has a long history. Ha ha ha, actually Fuad's the hostel captain, so he's given a room. It's all legal. While they're lapping up in luxury, I'd to share a cell with a mixed bag of miseries, including a brooding poet, a wayward prince and a Hindustani songbird. Fuad's real estate was often left unlocked, easy target for my covert food forays (just sugar, I swear. And coffee). Somehow he knew it. He smiled slyly when we bumped the day after, we joked and laughed, and I guessed that pretty much settled it. More than one hundred colourful characters in the whole block and he picked me out. How unsettling.
His enlightened transition to Islam in 1978 didn't catch us on the hop, to be honest. We'd expected it all along. It came hard on the heels of an earlier no-stunner: a first-class honours in engineering, top of his class at Southampton. If you think a first class degree is no big deal, wait. He also holds a degree in Shariah from Jordan University and PhD in Islamic Civilization from Aberdeen University, and he speaks Arabic at home (you can guess why). A consultant engineer by profession, he's a prominent figure and speaker in the Islamic dakwah community. He often guests on TV programs, including today's hottest morning show, "Tanyalah Ustaz" (Don't fall for ustaz's fake surprise. The questions are all planted). With engagements all lined up right into 2013, he's now busier than Lady Gaga.
As classmates who're mostly retired and rundown, we can only be proud of our long association with him and inspired by his achievements. But for some of us, he's even more than that. He leads our regular religious get-togethers. Fuad is, in no small way, our teacher, our Ustaz. What a rich reversal: we listen as the only Chinese boy in our class expounds his deep and learned views on Islamic issues. What a terrific teacher he turns out to be, patiently listening, explaining and, ahem, subtly correcting along the way. I can see that he really enjoys these jam sessions. He can now talk the talk and walk the talk. It's certainly much more fullfilling than those Friday-prayer stake-outs.
Some of the stories of Muhd Fuad are stuff of urban legends. He signed up at the great school on 5 January 1966 as Yeoh Keat Hian, the only Chinese and non-Muslim in our class of 73 boys and no girls. He did take some time to adapt and adjust: two days. He just rolled on and melted in, and nobody sensed any difference. We decided to call him Keat, I'm not sure how, but, in hindsight, it certainly sounds a lot sharper than Ayeoh or Ahian. Anyway all his three names are now permanently etched on the school's hall of fame for racking up the most A in MCE in 1971. (I flunked my Physics. We're worlds apart, remember?) No pushover in sports, he's in the school rugby, volleyball and athletics teams, proof that he's both brain and brute. He even entered a state-level sajak reading contest, hard to believe, but proof enough that everybody has a dark side (ha ha ha). Again he's the best student, this time for HSC in 1973. I hate this guy.
Things came thick and fast for him as he's made a prefect and got more than he bargained for. The prefects' only substantive function in our school was to carry out weekly stake-outs and raids on the Friday prayer shirkers and stragglers. For Fuad, this should easily rank as one of the most challenging and defining episodes in his formative phase. It's painful when you can't walk the talk, if you know what I mean. But he took it all in his stride with all the skill and talent that largely foreshadowed his leadership flair and energy in forward years.
Only ten of us from the entering class of 1966 left over after MCE. Some had gone overseas to study engineering, some had gone to Serdang to study animal husbandry, a few flew to ITM for lots of things. Students from other schools came in to fill up the space. (Still no girls). We're together in the Form Six hostel for two years. Fuad had a room all to himself right at the end of the block. I've no recollection of who exactly allowed him to hole up there. I think it's his good friend Azlan, the school captain, who himself took a posh studio on the top floor. Cronyism has a long history. Ha ha ha, actually Fuad's the hostel captain, so he's given a room. It's all legal. While they're lapping up in luxury, I'd to share a cell with a mixed bag of miseries, including a brooding poet, a wayward prince and a Hindustani songbird. Fuad's real estate was often left unlocked, easy target for my covert food forays (just sugar, I swear. And coffee). Somehow he knew it. He smiled slyly when we bumped the day after, we joked and laughed, and I guessed that pretty much settled it. More than one hundred colourful characters in the whole block and he picked me out. How unsettling.
His enlightened transition to Islam in 1978 didn't catch us on the hop, to be honest. We'd expected it all along. It came hard on the heels of an earlier no-stunner: a first-class honours in engineering, top of his class at Southampton. If you think a first class degree is no big deal, wait. He also holds a degree in Shariah from Jordan University and PhD in Islamic Civilization from Aberdeen University, and he speaks Arabic at home (you can guess why). A consultant engineer by profession, he's a prominent figure and speaker in the Islamic dakwah community. He often guests on TV programs, including today's hottest morning show, "Tanyalah Ustaz" (Don't fall for ustaz's fake surprise. The questions are all planted). With engagements all lined up right into 2013, he's now busier than Lady Gaga.
As classmates who're mostly retired and rundown, we can only be proud of our long association with him and inspired by his achievements. But for some of us, he's even more than that. He leads our regular religious get-togethers. Fuad is, in no small way, our teacher, our Ustaz. What a rich reversal: we listen as the only Chinese boy in our class expounds his deep and learned views on Islamic issues. What a terrific teacher he turns out to be, patiently listening, explaining and, ahem, subtly correcting along the way. I can see that he really enjoys these jam sessions. He can now talk the talk and walk the talk. It's certainly much more fullfilling than those Friday-prayer stake-outs.
There's still another touching twist to warm the heart. It's my favourite Geography teacher, Cikgu Shahrum (real name, real teacher). Well, this young graduate teacher and MCKK old boy had the lovely habit of straying onto something completely unrelated, like football, while he’s teaching. While explaining the tundra, he'd suddenly offer us pointless pointers, like Derby County is pronounced Dabi County not Debi. He pulled me aside one morning and suggested that I switch from Manchester City to Manchester United."Not in this world, Sir" was my polite reply. The dreaded HSC exam was lurking and he's promoting English football. On more than one occasions he’d break and casually quip “Bila Yeoh Keat Hian nak masuk Islam?” and then continue without missing a beat. Thing is, Fuad wasn’t in our class. We’re in arts class, he's mixing acids in the science lab. But what's in the teacher's mind was keen and clear.
We're still savouring this momentous occasion. Only Cikgu Shahrum's no longer with us. He passed away in 1996. (I choked up when I heard about it a few years later). If he were around, he'd be more than delighted now that Yeoh Keat Hian is a Tokoh Maulidul Rasul. The teacher's pressing question and deep wish have been answered and granted, many times over.
We're still savouring this momentous occasion. Only Cikgu Shahrum's no longer with us. He passed away in 1996. (I choked up when I heard about it a few years later). If he were around, he'd be more than delighted now that Yeoh Keat Hian is a Tokoh Maulidul Rasul. The teacher's pressing question and deep wish have been answered and granted, many times over.
