The Nicotine War
Taxi Driver
I was 12 years old when my father died on March 18, 1956, at a young age of 37. To this day I am still unaware as to the real cause of his death since I was at a boarding school when he became sick. I still have a driving license photograph of him with swollen lips. Some people said he died of tuberculosis. Whatever it might have been, it is obvious tha he had been ill for sometime.
As a lorry driver, transporting fish from the Alor Setar Jetty ( which have now ceased to exist ) to the central market in Ipoh, about 257 kilometers down the Malay Peninsula, he had his share of bitter hardship that manifested itself on our family.
Having graduated from being a 'pirate' taxi driver, he had failed to remit my hostel fees and pocket money, which prompted my returning home just in time to see him die.
Heavy Smoker
We all love and are very proud of him to this day. As far as the family is concerned, there was nothing wrong with him except that he worked too hard and was a heavy smoker. I can still remember his stained fingers, the result of years of nicotine abuse.
Cancer
In 1973 my father-in-law died of cancer. He was 50. He was well treated at the Kuala Lumpur General Hospital until one fine morning when he decided that it was all over and that he should be back in Jakarta to spend his last days beside his family. The doctor agreed.
I booked the only available flight to Jakarta in the evening. He was carried on a stretcher from the MAS plane a Halim Perdanakusuma Airport at Jakarta. He died at five o'clock - just before sunrise. He did not see the lights of another Jakarta day. He, too, was a heavy smoker.
No comments:
Post a Comment