Japanese military trainer with two on board, crashes
TOKYO: A Japanese military training plane crashed near a lake shortly after take-off with two people on board, authorities said on Wednesday.
"A T-4 training aircraft that belongs to the Air Self-Defence Force crashed at 3.08pm (0608 GMT) after radar lost [it] near a lake... after taking off at Komaki Air Base," in central Japan, Defence Minister Gen Nakatani told reporters.
Nakatani said two people were on board, without revealing their identities.
"We don't know what caused the aircraft to crash, but we will continue to do our utmost to save lives," he said, adding that the military has been carrying out search operations.
An aircraft part was found near the scene, but it was unclear whether it was from the crashed plane, Nakatani said.
The T-4 seats two and is a "domestically produced, highly reliable and maintainable training aircraft... used for all basic flight courses", according to the defence ministry website.
The aircraft was flying around Lake Iruka near Inuyama city, north of Nagoya.
"There is no sight of the plane yet. We've been told that an aerial survey by an Aichi region helicopter found a spot where oil was floating on the surface of the lake," local fire department official Hajime Nakamura told AFP.
Aerial footage of the lake broadcast by NHK showed an oil sheen on its surface, dotted with what appeared to be various pieces of debris.
Jiji Press said the local municipality had reported no damage to houses in the area.
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The Star
5 hours ago
- The Star
Encroaching Sahara puts centuries-old town and manuscripts at risk
From his roof, Sidi Mohamed Lemine Sidiya scans the mediaeval town of Oualata, a treasure that is disappearing under the sands of the Mauritanian desert. "It's a magnificent, extraordinary town," said Sidiya, who is battling to preserve the place known as the "Shore of Eternity". Oualata is one of a Unesco-listed quartet of ancient, fortified towns or "ksour", which in their heyday were trading and religious centres and now hold jewels dating back to the Middle Ages. Doors crafted from acacia wood and adorned with traditional motifs painted by local women still dot the town. Centuries-old manuscripts, a rich source of cultural and literary heritage handed down through the generations, are also held in family libraries. But the southeastern town near the border with Mali is vulnerable to the ravages of the Sahara's extreme conditions. In the punishing heat, piles of stone and walls that are ripped open bear witness to the impact of the latest, especially heavy rainy season. "Many houses have collapsed because of the rains," Khady said, standing by her crumbling home, which she inherited from her grandparents. Library manager Mohamed Ben Baty examines an ancient manuscript inside the Taleb Boubacar Library in Oualata. Photo: AFP An exodus of people leaving Oualata only compounds the problem. "The houses became ruins because their owners left them," said Sidiya, a member of a national foundation dedicated to preserving the region's ancient towns. Encroaching sands For decades, Oualata's population has been dwindling as residents move away in search of jobs, leaving nobody to maintain the historic buildings. Its traditional constructions are covered in a reddish mudbrick coating called banco and were designed to adapt to the conditions. But once the rains have stopped, the buildings need maintenance work. Much of the old town is now empty, with only around a third of the buildings inhabited. "Our biggest problem is desertification. Oualata is covered in sand everywhere," Sidiya said. Around 80 percent of Mauritania is affected by desertification - an extreme form of land degradation - caused by "climate change (and) inappropriate operating practices", according to the environment ministry. Mohamed Lemine Sidiya of the National Foundation for the Preservation of Ancient Cities walks past a traditional painting in his Oualata home. Photo: AFP More plants and trees used to grow in the desert, Boubacar Diop, head of the ministry's Protection of Nature department, said. "The desert experienced a green period before the great desertification of the 1970s caused the installation of sand dunes," Diop said. By the 1980s, Oualata's mosque was so covered in sand that "people were praying on top of the mosque" rather than inside it, Bechir Barick, who teaches geography at Nouakchott University, said. Despite being battered by the wind and sand, Oualata has preserved relics attesting to its past glory as a city on the trans-Saharan caravan trade route and centre of Islamic learning. "We inherited this library from our ancestors, founders of the town," Mohamed Ben Baty said, turning the pages of a 300-year-old manuscript in a banco-covered building that remains cool despite the outside temperature. Like his forebears, the imam is the repository of almost 1,000 years of knowledge, descending from a long line of scholars of the Quran. 'Valuable' for researchers The family library has 223 manuscripts, the oldest of which dates to the 14th century, Ben Baty said. In a tiny, cluttered room, he half-opened a cupboard to reveal its precious content: centuries-old writings whose survival might once have seemed in doubt. For decades, Oualata's population has been dwindling as residents move away in search of jobs, leaving nobody to maintain the historic buildings. Photo: AFP "These books, at one time, were very poorly maintained and exposed to destruction," Ben Baty said, pointing to water stains on sheets slipped into plastic sleeves. Books in the past were stored in trunks "but when it rains, the water seeps in and can spoil the books," he said. Part of the roof collapsed eight years ago during the rainy season. In the 1990s, Spain helped to fund the setting up of a library in Oualata which holds more than 2,000 books that were restored and digitally copied. But lack of financing now means their continued preservation depends on the goodwill of a few enthusiasts, like Ben Baty, who does not even live in Oualata all year round. "The library needs a qualified expert to ensure its management and sustainability because it contains a wealth of valuable documentation for researchers in various fields: languages, Quranic sciences, history, astronomy," he added. Oualata has no real tourism to rely on - it has no hotel and the nearest town is two hours away travelling on just a track. It is also in an area where many countries advise against travelling to due to the threat of jihadist violence. Faced with the encroaching desert, trees were planted around the town three decades ago but it was not enough, Sidiya said. Several initiatives have sought to save Oualata and the three other ancient towns, which were inscribed on the Unesco World Heritage List in 1996. An annual festival takes place in one of the four to raise money for renovations and investment to develop the towns and encourage people to stay. Once the sun drops behind the Dhaar mountains and the air cools, hundreds of children venture out into the streets and Oualata comes to life. - AFP
New Straits Times
11 hours ago
- New Straits Times
Ipoh native rises to global scholarly acclaim
AN international scholar. A revered academic. A visionary leader. A devoted husband and loving grandfather. At nearly 95, Professor Wang Gungwu is all these and more — a man whose life reads like a tapestry woven through some of the most defining moments in modern Asian history. From surviving the Japanese occupation to witnessing the turbulent days of the Chinese Civil War, the dangerous years of the Malayan Emergency and the unsettled post-colonial aftermath, Wang's remarkable journey reflects the story of a region in flux and a man who'd go on to shape its academic, cultural and political discourse. Born in Surabaya in 1930, Wang spent his formative years in the vibrant tin-mining town of Ipoh, Malaysia. His roots traced back to Taizhou in China, and with generations of scholars in his ancestry, education coursed naturally through his veins. It was his father Wang Fuwen's passion for education that sparked Wang's lifelong devotion to scholarship. "My father's commitment to education was unwavering," he'd later say, and that early influence set him on a path of learning that would take him across continents. Throughout his decades-long career, Wang has taught and mentored thousands of students around the world, many of whom would go on to become distinguished figures in academia and public service. Among them were Malaysian political stalwart Tun Lim Keng Yaik, the eminent historian Emeritus Professor Tan Sri Khoo Kay Kim, Professor Jeyamalar Kathirithambi of Cambridge University and Professor Chong Weng Eang of Hong Kong University. His contributions have earned him accolades from universities and institutions across Australia, Beijing, Cambridge, Harvard, Malaya, Singapore and Tokyo. Beyond academia, he was awarded the Commander of the British Empire by Queen Elizabeth II and the Dato Paduka Mahkota title by the Sultan of Perak. Smiling, Wang enthuses: "I received my Dato title from Sultan Nazrin Shah at his palace. He's a highly qualified man who takes his study and research seriously". Wang's numerous awards bear testimony to his lifetime of sterling contributions across various fields. Despite his lofty stature, meeting the formidable professor was a surprisingly disarming experience. Any apprehension before the interview quickly faded as he welcomes me with a calm voice and warm, reassuring smile. Soon, I find myself utterly captivated — like a child at a grandfather's feet, spellbound by tales of distant lands and ancient empires. Speaking in an infectious manner with a flowing eloquence and a twinkle in his eye, his enthusiasm betrayed his age. With a broad sweep of his arm, he leads me back across the vast steppe to medieval Eurasia, instantly conjuring up in my mind images of Genghis Khan and his Mongolian horde rampaging across the vast plains and laying siege on the cities of Vienna, Krakow and Budapest. (During my lectures in these cities as visiting professor, I recall seeing a number of Asian looking faces with green eyes and blond hair). Lowering his voice, he delves into the political intrigues and intricacies of the inner court of the Tang and Ming dynasties. I feel like I'm being transported back to medieval China and Europe, all at once. An afternoon passed in what felt like mere minutes. Yet, for all his worldly experiences, it is his carefree childhood in Ipoh that he cherishes most. "Ipoh was the source of my Malayan consciousness," he reflects. At Anderson School, he forged friendships that crossed racial lines, with schoolmates like Aminuddin Baki — later hailed as the Father of Malaysian Education — Inder Singh and James Murugasu. Outside school, he fondly recalled friends from Methodist Girls' School and St Michael's Institution. But those happy days were abruptly shattered by war. The Japanese occupation brought with it unspeakable horrors, and decades later, Wang still shudders at the memory of executions he witnessed as a boy. Listening to forbidden broadcasts on a hidden radio, he followed news of battles raging in faraway Europe, Burma and the Pacific. "We knew the risks," he admits quietly, adding: "If the Japanese had caught us, it would have meant death." STUDENT OF A NEW NATION With no university in Malaya after the war, Wang set off for the Central University of Nanking in China. Yet, the civil war between the Chinese Communist Party and Kuomintang soon upended his studies. As artillery thundered in the distance, he narrowly escaped the chaos by climbing through the window of a departing train bound for Shanghai. While waiting to enter University of Malaya, Wang accompanied his father during his tours around Perak as a school inspector. Frowning with concern, he recalls: "It was during the Emergency. We had to be careful. There were many ambushes and battles between the British forces and communist guerrillas". Returning home, he eventually enrolled at the newly founded University of Malaya in Singapore in 1949 as part of its pioneering batch of students. "The inauguration was a grand affair," he recalls with a smile. The event was attended by Governor-General of Malaya and Commissioner-General of Southeast Asia Sir Malcolm MacDonald, colonial dignitaries and Malayan royalty. It was an exciting time for him. However, it was at the height of the Emergency and the British authorities were keeping a close watch on campus activities. As president of the students' union, Wang actively supported nationalist causes to promote democracy. He also met with some medical students, including one Mahathir Mohamed, Majid "Coco" Ismail and Tan Chee Koon — all of whom rose to prominence later. His vision for a progressive multi-racial future led him to become one of the founders of the Gerakan party later in Malaysia. As a student leader at Dunearn Road Hostel (Sheares Hall now), he enjoyed working with and learning from students coming from Malaya and Singapore. Among them were Sim Kee Boon, Zakaria Haji Ali and Hamzah Sendut, who became the first vice-chancellor of Universiti Sains Penang. Amid activism and academics, fate intervened in the form of Margaret Lim Ping Ting — a bright and talented student. Their meeting, fittingly, was at one of Wang's campus talks about the Romantic poets. "Incredibly, William Wordsworth brought us together," he chuckles. Margaret, an accomplished violinist, poet and badminton champion, shared his ideals and supported his ambitions. Their connection was instantaneous, and it wasn't long before wedding bells followed. After completing his undergraduate studies, Wang pursued a PhD in history at the University of London in 1954. There, over spirited debates about Malaya's future, he forged friendships with contemporaries like Melakan Goh Keng Swee, who'd later become Singapore's deputy prime minister. In 1957, a double celebration awaited. "I obtained my PhD, and Malaya won its Merdeka," he beams. "The pride was indescribable." In 1962, at just 32, he was appointed Dean of the Faculty of Arts at the University of Malaya. In line with Tunku Abdul Rahman's vision for a united Malaysia, he spearheaded a monumental study, Malaysia: A Survey, advocating ideals of freedom, democracy and equality before the law. While Wang ascended academia's ranks, Margaret shaped future generations as head of department at the Malayan Teachers' College, training English language teachers for a newly independent nation. Both of them had made a lasting contribution in shaping the educational landscape of the new nation. INTERNATIONAL SCHOLAR In 1968, Professor Wang joined the Australian National University as professor of history and head of department. He thrived amid the excellent resources and open research environment, spending 18 fruitful years producing seminal works on Chinese and Southeast Asian history. His wife Margaret remained his rock — nurturing their family, raising their children in Canberra and supporting his academic pursuits. In recognition of his outstanding work, Wang was appointed as vice-chancellor of Hong Kong University (HKU) from 1986 to 1995. Hong Kong was a vibrant city of finance, commerce and entertainment, famous for its movie and music industry. Given his deep interest about China and its rapid development, it was an irresistible offer as he could see China up close for the first time. During his stint at the university, Wang enjoyed working with many top talents from around the world. However, it was also a period filled with tension and headlines as the Tiananmen Incident and the handover of Hong Kong cast a long shadow over the colony. LEGACY IN SINGAPORE After retiring from HKU, Wang was appointed the executive chairman of the Institute of East Asian Political Economy and director of the East Asian Institute of Singapore in 1996. With his usual charismatic energy and tireless dedication, he led both institutes with distinction. His outstanding leadership and scholarship at the National University of Singapore earned him the title of "University Professor" — a mark of esteem reserved for the very best. Even today, Wang is still pushing the boundaries of knowledge, a reflection of his intellectual power and demonstration of active ageing. He has just published a book titled Roads to Chinese Modernity: Civilisation and National Culture. His recent seminars were highly illuminating and insightful, provoking deep thought and promoting a better understanding of the complex global issues facing us. In an era of noise and division, Wang's wisdom remains a steady, reassuring presence. His deeply reasoned perspectives cut through the fog of uncertainty, offering clarity on the complex global issues we face. From Ipoh to London, Canberra to Hong Kong, and now Singapore, Wang's journey is a testament to the power of resilience, curiosity and integrity. His story stands as a beacon for future generations — proof that even in turbulent times, one can rise with courage, compassion and a steadfast commitment to truth. As he reflects on a remarkable life, we wish Professor Wang many more years of health and wisdom. Postscript: After a long illness, Margaret Lim passed away in 2020. She is dearly missed. May her soul rest in peace.
Borneo Post
12 hours ago
- Borneo Post
‘The two fires at Lundu Bazaar'
Sgt Bunseng Munan seen at the razed Lundu Bazaar, in this photo taken by Bong Siew Min. Uncle DI Sidi Munan 1080p IF you were born at one place and now residing in another, isn't there a certain feeling for the former at one stage of your life? This is called nostalgia – or is there a better term? In Iban, it is known as 'lelengau', or 'rindu' in the local Malay. During the Gawai Dayak holidays, I had the time to read some literature about the villages in Lundu from the book called 'Lundu', written by Azmi Haji Bujang. While looking at the photographs of the main river, Batang Kayan, and those of the villages and longhouses along its banks, my memories, both sad and happy, started flooding back. Happy days were the school days at the Christchurch Mission School in Stunggang, and the Bumiputera School in town. I attended a Japanese school too, learning how to sing the 'Kumi Gayu' in Japanese, and planting tapioca. Our real schooling, however, was in the form of junglebashing, of identifying which wild fruits were edible and which were poisonous, of 'najur' (river-fishing at night) and risking snake bites. We didn't mind mosquito bites much, as they're relatively harmless. Sad days were a few; occasional fears and disappointments aplenty. These are fading away into the twilight years. Lundu Bazaar on fire in 1949 One sad day, however, remains indelible in my mind. It was when the Lundu Bazaar caught fire. I did not know until recently that this wasn't the first time it happened. So here's my version of the first event. I was an eyewitness, through semidarkness and overwhelming smoke. But I wish to record what I saw, for my grandchildren to talk about and for the ordinary readers of this column who are interested in what had happened long time ago in a small town in Sarawak. Is there anyone still around who remembers the 'Fire of Lundu Bazaar'? It was before midnight in early December 1949. I don't remember the exact date. My brother, Bunseng, Sergeant No 433, was the police officer in charge of security of Lundu District. He allowed me to stay with his family at the barracks while I was going to the Sekolah Bumiputera where I was taught the Romanised Malay (the Za'aba System of spelling) and the Jawi script. One evening, suddenly there was a commotion in the barracks. My brother was calling out to the constables to wake up, yelling: 'Pasar angus! Pasar angus! (The bazaar's burning! The bazaar's burning!).' He was having problem with his boots (no puttees were handy – constabulary's regulation required the puttees to be worn with the boots) and he could not find them. Normally my brother was sticking to the strict police code, but this time he had to break the regulation. In an emergency, he had to go on bare feet. With his 303 rifle slung over his shoulder, he rushed towards the direction of the bazaar, a few hundred yards from the barracks, warning everyone not to loot, not to steal. Some hope! There certainly was looting all right, which he could not control. I was running out barefooted too. I owned a pair of canvas shoes, but those were for wearing to go to school. Still, vividly in my mind, I was watching flying fiery material landing on the roof of the Lundu Studio, and the fire was gutting the building fast. The photo shop was owned by one Ah Chee, the town's photographer. He was doing a brisk business after the Pacific War (1941-1945) because that was the period during when people in the district were required to get themselves registered as citizens of Great Britain. They would be issued with the identity card, which required a personal photograph. Ah Chee's studio was to provide the photographs. I was watching how the fire was spreading from shop to shop. The smoke preceded the flame! The sparks jumping from shop to shop were awful sights. 'The lady with a bolster' I saw a woman rushing out of a shop owned by Kapitan Goh Hong Ping. She was carrying a colour portrait of Dr Sun Yat Sen, the Mainland Chinese leader, in one hand and in the other hand, she tightly clutched a fat 'bantal guling' (a bolster or 'Dutch wife'). Crying and muttering in Teochew, I could not understand her. A distressful moment indeed – I could not do anything to help her. Months later, I asked her grandson, Ah Kow, what it was that her grandmother had done with that pillow. Ah Kow said it had been stuffed with the 'Straits Dollars' – hundreds of them. He did not get a cent of it, he complained, but the content of the bolster helped the family a lot, post-fire period. The next day, we boys from the barracks and the villages descended on the area, searching for anything of use, avoiding the spot where one death was reported. We went for the hair cream and perfumes ('Santalia'). I went for the penknives. The hair cream ('Vaseline') glass bottles were empty, and the penknives were useless. We collected a few burnt coins, but they were not accepted for gambling – let alone for buying things. The marbles were all burnt out too. Before the fire of 1949, Lundu Bazaar – built on the bank of the Batang Kayan – consisted of two parts: the 'pasar tanah' (landbased) and the 'pasar gantong' (on stilts). The looters concentrated on the 'pasar gantong'. Bundles of clothes and new textiles were carted off the shelves and piled up onto the boats. The boys from the nearby village went for the bottled drinks, the fizzy lemonade 'Chong Kim Eng Aerated Water', while the men preferred arrack. There was no such thing as the fire brigade in the district. The only weapon was water, pails or buckets of it – no good at all to douse a conflagration. 'Rebuilding Lundu' I can claim the credit of helping to rebuild the present Lundu Bazaar in the sense that I was involved in levelling the sites where the (then-)new shophouses would be erected. I was a coolie, 13 or so years old, a member of the 'Changkul Gang' – working from 7am to 11am, and back at 2pm till 5pm. Exhausted but happy to have earned some money for myself, I was no longer relying on pocket money from my brother. I was also employed as a painter by Encik Bakri Kaya, a contractor from Kuching. I was also working for five dollars a day for Sim, building the District Office that had been operational since 1952. I painted parts of the wall of the old District Office. But that was not the first time Lundu Bazaar had burned down. I found out, from the 'Sarawak Gazette', that the same thing had happened in October 1893. Obviously I don't remember that one! Here's the story: 'FIRE AT LUNDU' — The greater part of Lundu Bazaar has been destroyed by a disastrous fire, which broke out in the night of the '3rd Ultimo'. 'The flames were first noticed about midnight proceeding from the kitchen of one Tai Seng Hin. 'His shop was attached to another, which was used as a store and here, the fire got a good hold and, aided by a strong westerly wind, rapidly spread in the direction of the Fort, which with boat shed were only preserved by the precautions of men stationed with buckets of water. 'By 1.30am on the '4th Ultimo', 15 shops had been burnt out and a great deal of property destroyed. 'The total loss is estimated at about $40,000. The owners of the shops destroyed are Yong Soon (2), Wee Cha (1), Ah Pua (1), Seng Kow (1). Kim Foh (1), Ah Kam (1) Seng Soon (8)Hong Chua (5). 'The Assistant Resident was absent at Bandong at the time of the break out'. So here's a word of advice: Lundu shopkeepers are strongly urged to keep fire extinguishers on their premises! > The opinions expressed in this article are the columnist's own and do not reflect the view of the newspaper.
