I think I have been cursed bald for the rest of my life by Cikgu Amingbo. Alongside with Zahabo, Amingbo is a bald teacher. Their respective identifier came out from addition of two words – their name and an adjective, botak, meaning bald. Hence, Aming (it’s Amin for you), a hateful botak teacher, becomes Amingbo. I leave Zahabo’s scientific equation for you to wonder upon because as for me, he’s not important. Furthermore, although he was hated by a few, I don’t think Zahabo did much mischief towards us at school. He was just doing his job. Only reckless boys hate him.
Amingbo punched my friend, Amer – in the belly.
“Ouch, me did no wrong, cikgu!” Amer said.
“Wat?! No wrong you sez?!” and another more fist collided with Amer’s bulgy belly.
Amingbo was well-known as a teacher who loved to resolve issues by physical means. Many days earlier, he slapped me hard in the face because I took a wrong lane for going back to the hostel. The lane was reserved for girls, the weak creatures, hence it was many times shorter than the boys’ and provided enough shade for puteri-puteri lilin, the princesses of heat-sensitive Candle kingdom. But it was already eleven o’clock; the dimmer light of the moon did not have enough strength to take off the enormous black cloak of the night covering the whole area. This is the time the princesses were in good shape, but highly likely exposed to danger offered by hungry pack of wolves who wolf-whistled when the smells of fresh meat was so tempting to resist. Being accused as an under-covered wolf, I was summoned by Lord Amingbo who was patrolling the area (he had a very good camouflage skill) to present myself quickly in front of him. When I did, without any words spoken he swung his hand, my eyes were involuntarily squinted and pang!!! That was how I experienced the most powerful slap ever. I hold malice on him ever since.
Amer coughed a little. “Wallahi, me swear to God, itz not me who brawled with those boys,” Amer defended himself.
“Eleh. Yeah yeah, ‘in the name of God’ mah foot! Am not buying!” barked Amingbo.
“Listen, boy. I’m gonna make you move out of this school soon,” warned Amingbo, grimly.
The grimace of Amingbo’s face vanished in the cloud of smoke blown from the exhaust pipe of his motorbike.
A counter-attack attempt: Amer met Cikgu Rozak. Cikgu Rozak was Amer’s solicitor. Amer had told him everything. Truth had been prevailed. The verdict told that Amer was innocent. It wasn’t Amer who brawled. It was another person named Amir, Amer’s junior. He was the real convict who brawled with his classmates. The informant must have brought insufficient information to Amingbo.
One day, Amer walked by the male teachers’ room. Coincidentally, Amingbo was seen walking out from the room, turned around to have a comfortable position to wear his shoes. He saw Amer, then he walked back into the room. He avoided Amer.
“That natang (animal) doesn’t want to apologize!” Amer said one day. Upon hearing that, I told him a story.
I experienced one humiliating event when I was about to enter male teachers’ room. It was a religious school where high-level personal ethics were respectfully obeyed, thus, when one is about to enter the most respected profession’s area, a sign of respect must be shown. In this case, it was a greeting that all Muslims use – salam aleykom.
“Waalaikumussalam,” replied Ustaz Ibrahim who sat on a swivel chair by the entrance door.
“Hey, I ain’t hear no salam, boy! Now will you please go back to where you stood just now, knock the door, and kindly say the salam,” said one teacher whose name escaped me.
And so I did what he ordered me to do: I walked back to the entrance; obediently I knocked the door, and said the salam. I reckoned those teachers must have not heard my greeting. Soft-spoken boy, you know.
Suddenly, “lain kali… bila nok masuk bilik guru… berilah salang, BENGONG!!!” shouted Amingbo who was busy correcting his students’ homework at one corner of the room. Meaning, “next time if ya wanna enter teachers’ room, say out the salam, BLOODY FOOL!!!”
My ears were burning. My face felt warm. My heart was pumping rapidly. My hands were quivering. After finishing my business in the teachers’ room, I got back to my shoes and left. When I passed the window where Amingbo can hear my words, I said, “Aku wi salang doh kang tadi, mung tu dok dengor, BABI!!!” (I already said the salam but you’re a deaf PIG!!!). I sped up.
Amingbo punched my friend, Amer – in the belly.
“Ouch, me did no wrong, cikgu!” Amer said.
“Wat?! No wrong you sez?!” and another more fist collided with Amer’s bulgy belly.
Amingbo was well-known as a teacher who loved to resolve issues by physical means. Many days earlier, he slapped me hard in the face because I took a wrong lane for going back to the hostel. The lane was reserved for girls, the weak creatures, hence it was many times shorter than the boys’ and provided enough shade for puteri-puteri lilin, the princesses of heat-sensitive Candle kingdom. But it was already eleven o’clock; the dimmer light of the moon did not have enough strength to take off the enormous black cloak of the night covering the whole area. This is the time the princesses were in good shape, but highly likely exposed to danger offered by hungry pack of wolves who wolf-whistled when the smells of fresh meat was so tempting to resist. Being accused as an under-covered wolf, I was summoned by Lord Amingbo who was patrolling the area (he had a very good camouflage skill) to present myself quickly in front of him. When I did, without any words spoken he swung his hand, my eyes were involuntarily squinted and pang!!! That was how I experienced the most powerful slap ever. I hold malice on him ever since.
Amer coughed a little. “Wallahi, me swear to God, itz not me who brawled with those boys,” Amer defended himself.
“Eleh. Yeah yeah, ‘in the name of God’ mah foot! Am not buying!” barked Amingbo.
“Listen, boy. I’m gonna make you move out of this school soon,” warned Amingbo, grimly.
The grimace of Amingbo’s face vanished in the cloud of smoke blown from the exhaust pipe of his motorbike.
A counter-attack attempt: Amer met Cikgu Rozak. Cikgu Rozak was Amer’s solicitor. Amer had told him everything. Truth had been prevailed. The verdict told that Amer was innocent. It wasn’t Amer who brawled. It was another person named Amir, Amer’s junior. He was the real convict who brawled with his classmates. The informant must have brought insufficient information to Amingbo.
One day, Amer walked by the male teachers’ room. Coincidentally, Amingbo was seen walking out from the room, turned around to have a comfortable position to wear his shoes. He saw Amer, then he walked back into the room. He avoided Amer.
“That natang (animal) doesn’t want to apologize!” Amer said one day. Upon hearing that, I told him a story.
I experienced one humiliating event when I was about to enter male teachers’ room. It was a religious school where high-level personal ethics were respectfully obeyed, thus, when one is about to enter the most respected profession’s area, a sign of respect must be shown. In this case, it was a greeting that all Muslims use – salam aleykom.
“Waalaikumussalam,” replied Ustaz Ibrahim who sat on a swivel chair by the entrance door.
“Hey, I ain’t hear no salam, boy! Now will you please go back to where you stood just now, knock the door, and kindly say the salam,” said one teacher whose name escaped me.
And so I did what he ordered me to do: I walked back to the entrance; obediently I knocked the door, and said the salam. I reckoned those teachers must have not heard my greeting. Soft-spoken boy, you know.
Suddenly, “lain kali… bila nok masuk bilik guru… berilah salang, BENGONG!!!” shouted Amingbo who was busy correcting his students’ homework at one corner of the room. Meaning, “next time if ya wanna enter teachers’ room, say out the salam, BLOODY FOOL!!!”
My ears were burning. My face felt warm. My heart was pumping rapidly. My hands were quivering. After finishing my business in the teachers’ room, I got back to my shoes and left. When I passed the window where Amingbo can hear my words, I said, “Aku wi salang doh kang tadi, mung tu dok dengor, BABI!!!” (I already said the salam but you’re a deaf PIG!!!). I sped up.
...hah tu diye... ttu baru anok jatang, hok ning ah ambe nok dengo sangak ning..!!! kalu jerepok ngan ambe, buleh sakik Amingbo...
ReplyDeletekeh keh keh :D
ReplyDeletehaha. dulu dpt nama jolokan budak takde perasaan. so anything the teachers did back then didn't have any effect on my feeling. i ignore most of the time and enjoy being punished. they hated it. haha.
ReplyDeleteyohteh,
ReplyDeleteWi jangang dok wi...
Jawaher,
ReplyDeleteHiks.
geeds,
ReplyDeleteWow sejuk (cool)!
Sebagai budak nakal di sekolah.. selalu saja saya di hukum.. tetapi saya tidak pernah menyimpan dendam jadi tak banyak issue berbangkit selepas beberapa hukuman.. ;)
ReplyDeleteAnggap aja lah semua itu asam garam hidup..
Wan Sharif,
ReplyDeleteSaya bukanlah seorang pendendam tegar. Itu bermakna, saya tidaklah suka berdendam, tetapi saya akan mempunyai dendam sekiranya hukuman tersebut tidak adil terhadap kesalahan yang saya lakukan.
Sekolah saya dahulu adalah sekolah agama. Menjadi satu perkara yang memalukan bagi seorang guru yang melakukan sesuatu yang dilarang oleh Rasulullah, iatu menampar orang, kerana muka/kepada dianggap satu anggota badan yang mulia.
Juga memalukan bagi seorang guru yang menggunakan kata-kata kesat seperti BENGONG dan sebagainya. Guru kencing berdiri, murid kencing berlari.
Untuk entri seterusnya, saya akan ceritakan bagaimana kami menggunakan kuasa pelajar MENGGULINGKAN seorang USTAZ kerana beliau sangat suka memaki hamun pelajar dan suka menggunakan kekerasan fizikal ke atas pelajar yang melanggar peraturan.
The reason why I wanted to be a teacher, besides the fact that I like children, is because I know people like Amingbo exist, masquerading as 'teachers' and 'educators' when the fact is, they need serious therapy. Its difficult to weed out those sickos, with the imperfect education system we have. Unfortunately, I cannot have the satisfaction of having done something about it, as I am not a teacher, just a lousy engineer...
ReplyDeleteOur children need a ROLE MODEL. Not to receive education from BABIs.
Hope I don't go bald because of the above comment...
ReplyDeleteJiyuu,
ReplyDeleteDamn you're a smart woman, miss. Yes, ROLE MODEL. Not BABIs.
No you won't go bald. You need to curse a bald teacher to go bald, because he'll curse you bald afterward.
kelakau sungguh!! No worry Pok Deng, bald is the new sexy...hahaha
ReplyDeleteMyra,
ReplyDeleteAre you being sarcastic? Urgh. *touch my bald head*
Sarcastic? No ahhh!...for some its an acquired preference ;)
ReplyDeleteHe teaches ill who teaches all. Better untaught than ill taught.
ReplyDelete