#NST180years: Growing up with the iconic NST

New Straits Times

6 days ago

OUR village headman used to carry the (then) Straits Times everywhere he went.
He would place the newspaper neatly on the table of the Hailam coffee shop together with a pack of Players Navy Cut cigarettes and a box of matches followed by a round of kopi-o.
The village head would then start reading the pages from the jawi script of an Utusan Melayu newspaper while leaving the English paper untouched.
When my father opened his barber shop in the afternoon, the same headman would often drop in with the same copy of the Straits Times, still in pristine condition, and the paper would then be left on a box where my father kept his wares.
I was told the newspaper was delivered to him daily by a taxi driver plying the Muar-Batu Pahat route very early in the morning.
As I grew up, I realised the villagers looked up to the headman with respect not just because of his position, but also because they were awed that he read the Straits Times and carried it under his armpit wherever he went.
The headman was a good story teller, or more precisely, a good conveyor of news, not unlike Captain Kidd — the character played by Tom Hanks in the movie News of the World.
In a village where almost everyone was illiterate, he was the enlightened one. It didn't matter if his source of news was actually Utusan Melayu.
FONT OF KNOWLEDGE
My father, a rubber tapper in the morning and a barber in the evening, would narrate what he heard from the headman to my mother when we had our dinner after the Maghrib prayers.
I could sense his awe over the knowledge and news relayed to him by the headman
I guess that was the reason he sent me to an English school in 1960 — a move that surprised many at that time.
Perhaps he wanted his son to hold the Straits Times just like the headman... and to be able to converse in the language that no one in the village understood.
The school was far, but he made it a point to send me there on his bicycle after he finished tapping rubber in the morning.
As I grew older, the headman was less frequently seen with his newspaper.
I, on the other hand, started collecting copies of old English newspapers and magazines, sourced mainly from a fish monger next to my father's shop.
I needed something to read. There was no library in school and I didn't have a dictionary, so I learned English the hard way.
The Straits Times, I realised, was more than a newspaper.
It symbolised intellect, knowledge and even status.
It didn't matter if the village headman couldn't read the newspaper — being seen carrying it was a source of pride.
In the village, or perhaps in the entire district, he was the only one with a copy of surat khabar orang putih (the white men's newspaper).
We had a Yorkshireman teaching us English in primary school.
He was a language purist and a disciplinarian. I remember that even in Standard One, he was already regaling us about a great Englishman who wrote dramas — William Shakespeare.
His method of teaching English was strict and his intolerance of mistakes was legendary.
And he told us to read the Straits Times, which most in the class had never seen.
I finally started reading the Straits Times when I was in Form One. My English teacher had a habit of leaving the copy he read on his table.
It was delightful going through the pages. even though I couldn't understand most of the content.
I wrote phrases I liked and words I didn't understand. My father would make sure the newspapers and magazines I brought home were well-kept... perhaps it became a source of pride for him that I could read stuff which the village headman used to do.
I liked the advertisements most — Cream Puff of Max Factor, Olvaltine, Titoni, Eye-Mo, Lux Toilet Soap and Cussons Baby Soap. Double Diamond was hailed as the best beer (Mind you the models in the advertisement were Malays!).
Oh yes, I remember the Sunday Times had a Sunday Pin-Up back then. There were times when bikini-clad women were featured in the advertisement.
When my father once asked about it, I told him it was advertisement for sakit kulit (skin disease).
FROM READER TO WRITER
Later in life, I ended up as a columnist for the New Straits Times, and chairman of the media conglomerate that owned the newspaper I envied five decades earlier.
I started writing for the New Straits Times since my university days, and also wrote for many Malay papers like Mingguan Malaysia, Utusan Malaysia, Berita Minggu and Berita Harian.
I knew many of the editors and reporters at Jalan Riong, including the late Tan Sri A. Samad Ismail whom I regard as my iconic journalist and laureate.
My column in the NST then was called "Point Blank", and the first piece appeared on Saturday, Nov 30, 2002.
It went on to be one of the longest-lasting columns. I wrote a total of 965 articles in 13 years.
I survived six chief editors, and my last last article as a columnist was on Oct 17, 2015.
This newspaper has a special place in my heart.
For me it is not just a chronicler of the nation's history or a source of information and knowledge for the reading public.
The New Straits Times has been around for the last 180 years and this in itself is proof of its resilience.
It has a tradition unmatched in the history of newspaper publishing in the country.
It has produced some of the finest editors and journalists — many of whom were legends in their own right.
This is no ordinary newspaper. It is an icon and part of the proud heritage of this beloved nation.
Dirgahayu the New Straits Times!
. He was also the Chief Editor of Utusan Melayu in the 90s. Johan is an award-winning creative writer. He was a stage actor, playwright and director.