Wayfaring career choice
Published on: Monday, July 20, 2020
By: Nicholas Chung
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A farewell party given to Rev Fr Lawrence Parsons on May 11, 1970.
Irene, Patricia, Soon San, Stanley, Dilbagh and Fred Fung were State record holders in their respective events, and were all groomed and guided by the father of Sabah sports, the late Datuk Gilbagh Singh Kler (Dilbagh’s father). Their contributions and achievements in the sporting arena are well documented and are being held up as inspiration for the younger generation to follow. It should be mentioned that all these outstanding sporting figures achieved varying degrees of success in later life.
In particular, the life and achievements of Irene Pritchard (now Datuk Ariah Tengku Ahmad) are a shining example of a very capable and determined personality. Incidentally, she and my late wife Lucy were close friends as both traced their birthplace to Papar and were also schoolmates at St Francis Convent School. Her first job was as a teacher at St Francis.
Left to right: Yeo, Ariah, Tengku Ahmad, Ramon and the author in Kota Kinabalu in 1980.
Later she became the star reporter with the Sabah Times newspaper based In Sandakan. It was during one of her assignments that she met her future husband, a dashing prince of the Negri Sembilan Royal Family, Brigadier-General Tengku Ahmad bin Tengku Besar Burhanuddin. Tengku Ahmad was then the commander of the Malaysian Fifth Infantry Brigade garrisoned in Sabah.
They were married in May 1965 and had one son, Tengku Fuad. Irene later embarked on a very successful political career and held a number of elected offices, culminating in her appointment as a Deputy Chief Minister. Her husband has since passed away, and she retired from public service in 1994 and now lives quietly in Kota Kinabalu.
In my frequent visits to the wharf area in 1956, I became acquainted with the shipping manager of Harrisons and Crostfield’s at that time, Ng Thian Vui and his assistant, the late Wong Shong Ngee. I had always known that the ships under their agency required part-time shore tally clerks to record and verify the number of items discharged or loaded into a particular hold in a ship.
Although I had only a rudimentary command of English, I could read figures and felt quite sure that I could handle the work. I approached Ng and offered my services. To my surprise, he agreed immediately. I began to work with gusto and soon gained sufficient confidence of my employers to be hired every weekend and public or school holiday.
As only one ship could berth the wharf at a time, I was able to find work on ships with other agencies which came alongside. As I worked my way around, I started to receive call-ups to attend to ships moored at midstream as well as those loading at Wallace Bay. I was kept busy during weekends and most evenings working at the wharf or on-board one of the ships at anchor.
All this was done at some expense to my studies and homework, but I overcame the problem by taking copious amounts of notes and paying full attention to the teachers in class. Fortunately, Father Parsons was a kindly and a compassionate father figure of a teacher.
I tried my best not to let my part-time work interfere with my schoolwork, but very often I would come to class late, especially on Monday mornings whenever the launch taking me back from Wallace Bay was delayed. By working in this fashion, I found that the money earned was well worth it.
The income not only enabled me to compensate mother for the bicycle, but I was able to pay my own way through school and contribute towards family expenses. Under the present school regulations, repeatedly arriving at school late would probably be interpreted as a serious problem and one would be punished for it, perhaps even to the extent of being expelled from school.
But Father Parsons understood my hardship and the reason for my predicament. He treated me with forbearance and understanding. This may have been partly because my conduct and school performance were otherwise unblemished.
So I was tolerated by the school and, in my own way, I absorbed enough of the lessons being taught to enable me to sit for the North Borneo Junior School Certificate in November 1958. When the results were released at the end of the year, my classmates (and I!) were surprised that I had managed to score six credits and one pass in my seven subjects. Father Parsons congratulated me and recommended me for a scholarship to study in Secondary Four that would eventually lead to the Senior Cambridge School Certificate Examinations, probably in Kuching.
In those days, secondary school education in Tawau was only up to Form Three; one had to go to either Sandakan or Jesselton for further studies. The idea of going to Kuching put me in a quandary. If I took up the offer, it would mean giving up the job that had been an important source of income which my family badly needed.
When the scholarship came through, I had to decline. I explained my reasons to Father Parsons; he felt sorry for me and wished me well.
Later on in life, while attending a training course in London in 1971, l bumped into Father Parsons by chance in Green Park Underground Station, I introduced myself to him and I could see that he remembered me, called me by my nickname ‘Golden Dragon’, which was actually the brand of my bicycle. I felt elated, as of all the millions of Londoners, I had this great opportunity to meet up with the man whom I held in such high esteem.
During our chat I learned that he was living in a home for retired Mill Hill priests at WestCliff, Essex. From then on, I made a point of sending him card and a small gift every Christmas until he passed away to the late 1980s.
I never intended to be a tally clerk for the rest of my life. The job was no doubt interesting, apart from the reasonable pay, and it provided me with the opportunity to board and inspect, and even live on, various types of ships.
Once I had finished my assignment on board a vessel, I would befriend the crew and solicit from them a guided tour to virtually every corner of the ship, particularly the bridge to see the steering gear, the compass and (on some ships) their radar. I pored over the wonders of the navigation charts which are so precise that the captain could totally rely on them to provide all the minute details of the surrounding sea with a two-dimensional perspective.
I would go below deck to see the engines (enduring the extreme heat of the boiler room and the greasy and slippery machinery compartment)! I even went inside the casing of the propeller-shaft on a 5.000-tonner. The shaft itself was as thick as the trunk of a coconut tree! Nothing was beyond any curiosity. Years of close contact with numerous ships of all sizes and description imbued me with a life-long fascination with ships, particularly early 20th-century steamships.
Notwithstanding my addiction to the sight of anything, ship-shaped that could have its own motive force in water, work as a tally clerk was at best only temporary. In January 1959, armed with nothing more than a JSC.
I set out to look for a more permanent job. One day, while waiting for my next tallying assignment, I went (as I often did) to the library to read my favourite Illustrated London News, which was usually more than three months old. The library was housed in a converted timber and asbestos-sheet building (formerly Hong Kong & Shanghai Banking Corporation’s Tawau branch office).
At the Way Foong Public Library (the bank’s Chinese name), the volunteer librarian was none other than Jay Perry, wife of the Reverend Kenneth Perry. Perry was a very affable person. On that day, our conversation drifted to employment and my future career plans and I mentioned to her that I would like to be either a policeman or in any other capacity within the civil service. She suggested that I talk to the Rev. Perry that afternoon at their home.
My meeting with the Rev. Perry was very fruitful. He told me that the head of the Tawau Customs Department, Caiger, was a member of his church and a personal friend. He asked whether I would consider a job there. I said that I would. He then put a call through to Caiger and I overheard him saying that he would like to help his ex-pupil secure a job and if his department had a vacancy... something to that effect.
The next thing I heard was Perry giving Caiger my full name and address (c/o St Patrick’s School). They went on to discuss something that was not audible to me for a few minutes. Putting down the phone. Perry told me that Caiger would send a telegram to Customs HQ at Jesselton to recommend me for the job and he would let me know the outcome as soon as possible. I thanked Perry warmly and left. I felt exhilarated, but guarded as I was not sure applying for a job was that simple.
Thereafter, every week I went to the library to inquire from Perry if there was news for me. The good news came a few weeks later when she handed me a telegram which said simply: “ACC, Tawau, re-telegram of 11/1/59. Employ CYK as C.O.t.s. w.e.f. 1/2/59. Letter to follow. Excise.” Perry advised me to see Caiger as soon as possible to arrange for my formal letter of appointment.
In the years that followed, well after I had secured a niche for myself in the Customs Department, I would wonder what might have happened if I had not called at the library that morning and talked to Perry. What if she had not been on duty that morning? What if I had not mentioned to her about hunting for a job and she had not invited me to talk to her husband? It never crossed my mind that my job would be with the Customs. Certainly, I had seen Customs personnel in action during my frequent visits to the wharf and during my days working as a tally clerk, but I had not seen myself becoming a Customs officer. My early ambition was to become a seaman, until my shortsightedness ruled that out. I also toyed with the idea of becoming a policeman, maybe a corporal, but stepdad advised against it.
Then there was the prospect of starting up as a shopkeeper with the help of some of stepdad’s former clients. However, I know that I would not have made good businessman as I do not possess the natural acumen for a successful career in that field. Other possibilities included a job as a clerk with the big trading houses such as Harrisons, Borneo Company, North Borneo Trading, Bombay Burmah Trading Company Limited or even as a field assistant at BAL. In those days, with Junior School Certificate one could apply for most jobs in the private sector where the pay was higher than that in government service, and job vacancies outnumbered applicants.
Had I decided to apply for a job with one of the big firms, Harrisons in particular, they would probably have taken me in without much scrutiny (based on my performance as a tally clerk). So why did I settle for a Civil Service post (entry point salary at $150/= per month) instead? The answer is part idealism and part adventurism.
I was curious, inquisitive. I wanted to pursue a career that I could look back on and feel fulfilment and satisfaction. The Customs Department, its functions and the role it played within the Government establishment, was just the right vehicle for me to prove my worth.
If my mother had had her way, I would probably have ended up as a telegraphist, as this is a job only a mother can think of. Years earlier, during one of our frequent visits to the hospital, we passed the Tawau Telegraph Office and she saw a lone person inside who appeared to be content and comfortable, with the window wide open, tapping effortlessly with his fingers on the Morse-key transmitter.
Mother took me aside and remarked to me, “Son,” she said, “look at that man. He is doing his job, nicely sheltered and making a living using only his fingers!” She added, “Why don’t you consider doing the same thing in future so that you do not have to carry heavy loads and expose yourself to the rain and sun?”
The thought had always dogged me until I had the opportunity to talk to a telegraphist on a ship (known as Spark) about his work and how the Morse code was sent. Actually, they are called radio operators. I felt that the job was dull and monotonous: day in and day out having to deal with a cold piece of metal.
the time came for me to get a job, mother reminded me of the telegraphist job. I only nodded; I dared not tell her the real reason for my disinterest in the job. I only mumbled that I was not good at memorising the code. She must have thought to herself what a dim-witted moron who cannot even learn a simple system which would guarantee a leisurely life.
I felt work with the Customs would be a greater challenge and it would have prospects and a good future. As I look back today, my decision to by-pass mother’s advice was the correct one, even though I felt rather guilty at the time.
Post and Telegraph Office in the early 1950s.
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