By Satiman Jamin

Flakes of rust that turned into steel, my connection with Kowalski, Kuznetsov and Smith, beautiful birds of Terengganu and the rock that exploded were among the myriad of stories that crossed my mind when I was asked to write an article for Apa KhabarTV.

However, since it is December, I decided to write about the story of stolen houses as it also happened around this time about 80 years ago.

Yes, houses can be stolen, and some unfortunate villagers in Pengerang, Johor found that out the hard way when they were ordered by the British to evacuate with just the clothes on their back due to a supposedly imminent Japanese invasion in 1941.

However, the Japanese Imperial forces whom the British thought would attack their formidable fortification in Tanjung Pengelih had landed in Kelantan instead.

When the villagers were allowed to return a few days later they were shocked to find their wooden houses gone. The houses, furniture and even kitchen utensils were allegedly dismantled and carted away by people from over the sea who came in hundreds of boats.

What really happened was never known as the invading Japanese forces soon took the whole of Malaya and the British surrendered in Singapore without a shot being fired from Tanjung Pengelih’s mighty guns, as they were built facing the sea.

No, I did not learn this from a book but through a relative who was also my namesake. Wak Satiman was already over 100 years old and very weak when he narrated the story to me 27 years ago. I was afraid that he would not be able to catch his breath as he became very animated, gesticulating to illustrate the shock of the villagers when they discovered their houses had been stolen.

Fortunately my worries did not materialise as the story had somehow brought him back to his younger days and his gaunt face lit up as he moved on to another story. But that is for another day, or maybe not at all for I did not take any notes and had forgotten the details of most of the stories.

Coming back to more recent times, the photo below has nothing to do with the story at all. The young men called out from across the irrigation canal, asking me to snap their photo. I obliged, swinging my lense about 90 degrees away from the kingfisher that I was focusing on.

If any of you knows them, do alert these guys. Actually one of them did shout his social media details but his voice came as garbled sounds when it reached my ears.

That’s it for now.

P/S

It would be a great help if readers can suggest which of these stories should be in my next article: flakes of rust that turned into steel, my connection with Kowalski, Kuznetsov and Smith, beautiful birds of Terengganu or the rock that exploded. Or you can even suggest a different topic altogether.