Hassan Mak Lamah

Hassan Mak Lamah was a really good boy who grew up to be a good chap. Hassan was a few years younger then me but we grew up together. He lived a couple of house away from us on Jalan Bunga Rose and looked up to us for advise on anything. Hehehe...bad news!

He was a lanky boy, genuinely a nice chap, hardly a bad bone in him and was very well brought up. Kudos to his mother, Mak Lamah, who was also a very nice lady. I remember Mak Lamah as a roundish, slightly overweight, elderly woman. She would move about in the kampung, hardly causing a stir, stopping by to chat with my grandma every now and then. Come to think of it she did seem to be on the street quite a bit; either going or coming from somewhere. I recalled her conversations were always pleasant. Despite our mischiefs I cannot think of a time when she ever complain to my grandma. 

Mak Lamah would spoil her only son to the maximum. She would buy him toys from Hap Joo almost every week - toy guns and sword, bags full of cowboy, indian and soldier toys, etc. She would send and fetch him to and from school every day till he was in primary six. The school was probably only 500 meters from her house! Every evening by 6pm Hassan would have been scrubbed and bathed, hair combed nicely, faced powdered 'macam tikus masuk dalam tepung', ready in his neatly ironed pajamas. He had all kinds of pajamas with cartoon  prints. 

Mak Lamah was very protective and strived to keep Hassan out of harms way. We used to jest that Mak Lamah would probably scold the pebbles on the street if Hassan accidently tripped himself on them. But he was a good boy.

I remember one morning Mak Lamah hurrying home from school, with an unconscious Hassan (still in school uniform - white shirt and blue shorts) over her shoulders. We found out later that Hassan had actually fainted when the school nurse was about to give him the BCG vaccination. He 'pengsan' at the sight of the needle. He then ran away from the school each time they tried to vaccinate him before he was finally vaccinated 3 attempts later.

Hassan loved playing with us which was just fine, especially with all the toys that he had. Every afternoon after school Hassan would hang around our house waiting while we finished our homeworks. My mother was very strict about that. We would not mess with our homework because she had a thin rotan that had purposely split into four at the end, which I can imagine it must be very painful.

We were mischievous kampung boys with lots of energy to expend and invariably had our share of troubles and tumbles. Despite Mak Lamah's attempt to keep Hassan out of harms way, he had his fair share. We all had scrapped knees, elbows, cuts and bruises to show for all our running around in the kampung. We would always had some form of medication on our knees or elbows. Hassan would usually have the non-stinging 'ubat biru' on his cuts while we would have the worst stinging 'ubat kuning' on ours.

There was one afternoon, when I, Hassan, Lingam and another chap, were running and chasing each other when Hassan took a tumble. He fell face down and sustained a small cut on his lips, which began to swell immediately. Poor Hassan was terrified and when he saw traces of blood on his hand he almost fainted out of fear. He kept on asking how bad was the cut on his lips and whether there was a lot of blood. Pucat!!!

We were not more then 10 years old at the time but the ability to 'seize the moment' came naturally. We were crowding around Hassan with 'concern' looks on our faces. One was holding his jaw, another was steadying him and I was trying to get him to lie down on the ground. We were exaggerating and telling him how bad it looks and that the cut was so big and need stitches. Hehehe...Hassan was at a stage where he will do anything for us if we can help him avoid needles.

Then came the alternative medicine advise! We told him to buy 'assam boi', the red salty assam boi that cost 10 sens for a packet for 5. Next we picked some really juicy limau kesturi from Ghani's garden (the neighbour who worked with the Agriculture Department). The red salty assam bois tasted so good when eaten with the juicy limau kesturis. But for poor injured Hassan whose lip is cut and swollen, the salty assam boi and the jucie of the limau kesturi was a potent and 'explosive'  mix!! The moment he sucked on the stuff, he let loose the loudest scream I had ever heard. I swear you could have heard it from Hap Joo's shop! 

Do not count on us hanging around when Mak Lamah come checking on Hassan. We were scampering off to hide in our house the moment Hassan let loose his scream. 'Putih tapak kaki', we would recall. But what we did not count on was that Hassan was also running and hiding with us, screaming in pain as he ran. Fortunately for us, Mak Lamah was not at home that day and after laying in hiding for half an hour we re-emerged relieved. Hassan has stopped screaming by then, still sucking on the salty assam boi and the swelling did not get any worse. Hassan did have a thick set of lips to start with anyway.

I am sure Hassan, wherever he is now, is still a jolly good fellow. One of the good guys.