It's Easy to Cry

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It's Easy to Cry Page 14

by Subhas Anandan


  When it came to me, he asked the same question. I said, “Yes, I have S$20. My mother gave it to me for safe-keeping when I left Singapore in case I needed it for an emergency.” He exclaimed, “Oh no, you are not supposed to have this on you. I have to confiscate it.” I was annoyed and told him, “If that lady can walk off with US$500, I don’t see why I can’t leave with S$20. If you want to make a fuss about it, I am going to complain to your superiors and let everyone be checked.” He realised that I may have been young but I could not be bullied. Relenting, he said, “OK, you don’t have to make a fuss. Just leave.” With a feeling of relief, I boarded the aircraft and waited patiently to return home to Singapore.

  Unfortunately, my plane was delayed for about eight hours. My friends Choo Poh Leong, Michael Then, Chee San and Tee Kow were waiting for me at Paya Lebar Airport. They were never told that the flight was delayed but they waited for me for almost ten hours! I was overjoyed to see them and I think they felt the same way too, especially after such a long wait. We got into a taxi and went to my home where my parents and younger sister were waiting for me.

  The first thing I said when I saw my mother was, “I’m sorry, Ma, but I couldn’t do what you wanted me to do. I just couldn’t take it.” She looked at me without a word. My father said, “You tried to make your mother happy but you couldn’t. Now you don’t have to make anyone else happy. Just do what you want to do but don’t tell me that you want to go to work and that you want to stop studying. You have to continue to study. Find something that you would like to study.” I had no choice but to agree. I looked at him and thought to myself, “How lucky I am to have a father like him — so understanding — always there to give me moral support without criticising me. That made me feel even worse and I had to keep quiet. You know what’s running through his mind and you know you have hurt him. You would try to do better the next time.

  So I spent the next few weeks hanging around doing nothing because school term had already commenced. I did a lot of reading at home.

  By the time I returned to Singapore, it was June 1963. In October 1963, the Naval Base Labour Union decided to go on strike. The Acting Secretary-General of the Union was one Michael Fernandez. I was a curious young boy with nothing to do. I went around to all the centres where the demonstrators were picketing; some of them were my friends who had already started working at the Base. Part of the fun for me was waiting for the free food that was provided by supporters. In the end the Government intervened and said that the strike was illegal. An order was given that everyone had to return to work.

  It broke the hearts of so many employees because they had gone on strike for more than 30 days. Everyone had the strength and the resolve to take on the English colonial masters. They were prepared to go all the way with the strike. As it was declared illegal, everyone had no choice but to return to work. Some were sacked and others were warned. My father’s bosses were not happy with him and he was afraid that they might also sack him. I heard him talking with my mother late in the night that he might be sacked. I could hear her consoling him, “If that should happen, Subhas will have to go to work until Subhashini comes back as a doctor. Then he can continue with his studies. So don’t worry. We will survive.” I remember my father saying, “I don’t want him to work at such a young age. But if there is no choice, I am sure he will do whatever is necessary.” My mother felt assured and said, “We have brought them up in the way that they will always do what is right for us. So don’t worry about it.”

  It was a great relief to finally hear that my father would not be sacked. He was given a warning and he continued to work at the British Naval Base. Michael Fernandez was arrested and locked up with a few others. The days of trade union strikes soon came to an end. Lee Kuan Yew and his government made sure that the trade unions did not get out of hand or have too much power. They succeeded. The trade unions that had leftist leanings were practically closed down and their leaders arrested. Under the watchful eyes of the government, Devan Nair started the National Trade Union Congress which exists till today.

  In the start of the new school year in 1964, I was admitted into Raffles Institution to commence Pre-University studies.

  I have many friends from all walks of life. Most of them are caring and loyal to our friendship. Of course, there are some fly by night’ friends. They are there when times are good but disappear when the bad times come. It’s painful to realise that in times of trouble or sickness, the people that you think mean so much to you, are not there. They just disappear as though you are suffering from the plague. To me, friendship is more than just saying hello. if you are my friend, I will do practically anything for you, even risking my life, if necessary. I ended up in prison because of my friends. A lot of things happened in my life because of friendship. Many of my friends would have done the same for me but some happen to turn out to be a great disappointment. They are there just to ask you for favours. They are there when you are up and flying but disappear if they feel that your days are done and you are on your way out. Such is life in most situations but having gone through so much in my life, I have learnt to let it all not bother me and to focus on those who really care for me.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  MY SOMALIAN EXPERIENCE

  I enjoy sharing with my family my visit to Somalia as it was truly an adventure of a lifetime for me. This working trip, where I also went to Rome, opened my eyes to a real world where there is political instability, greed, abuse of power and uncertainty.

  It was sometime in 1982, a decade into my practice, that I met an old neighbour called Abdul Rahman who was in the business of timber trading. One day, he came to the office and said he wanted me to vet some documents. Prior to this visit, I had not seen him for a long time. My father used to call him ‘Tengku’ after the first Prime Minister of Malaysia. We had a long chat, and laughed as we reminisced. I vetted the documents and noted that his office was in CPF Building, within walking distance from my office, which was then in International Plaza. At times I would walk over to his office and have coffee with him or he would reciprocate the gesture. We occasionally went for lunch or dinner together.

  One day he asked if I could go to his office. I agreed and there I met someone called Khawi from Somalia. He bought timber from Abdul Rahman quite regularly and this time he wanted help because the Commercial Bank of Somalia had been cheated of a few million dollars by somebody in the Moscow Narodny Bank in Singapore. The Somalian bank had sent their Letter of Credit to purchase rice or some other commodity; the Letter of Credit had been cashed but they never got their goods. The Somalian Government was very angry and contacted Khawi whom they knew visited Singapore regularly.

  Khawi asked whether there was anything I could do to help. He said they had already taken action against Moscow Narodny Bank in London. An Anthony Coleman, QC, was acting for them and he asked if I could work along with the QC. I said that I was unable to practise in London. He explained, “No, we want to issue a writ against the bank in Singapore, too, because one of the arguments the Commercial Bank of Somalia had put forward in London was that the whole situation happened in Singapore. So they wish to be ready to institute proceedings against the bank in Singapore.”

  Subhas (left) with Khawi.

  I was very frank with Khawi and said, “I am not a commercial lawyer. This is too high profile for me. I practise criminal law.” He replied, “I know but I think there is an element of crime in this particular incident. Why don’t you go through the papers? We will pay you for your services and if we actually have to go to court, maybe you can instruct the QC to come down to argue it.” After some thought, I said, “That sounds fair enough.”

  Khawi gave me all the necessary documents. I looked through them and I told him that this fraud could only be committed with the knowledge of some people in Commercial Bank of Somalia. It was an inside job. He said, “That’s what our President thinks. Can you go to Somalia to meet with the President and his ministers to share your thoug
hts on the matter?” I felt a little apprehensive about having to go to Somalia and said, “That can be done if we meet in London.” But he said, “No, you have to go to Somalia.” I spoke to Abdul Rahman who assured me that it was a good opportunity; his business in Somalia was increasing significantly.

  Khawi had become a friend by then. I agreed to go and it was decided that I should also meet with an Italian shipping company in Italy to negotiate another matter. This company owned ships in Somalia. So in April 1983, I flew to Rome but missed my connecting flight to Viareggio on the west coast of Italy where the company was based. At Rome airport, I was met by Steven, a representative from the shipping company. He asked me whether we could take the train to Viareggio because he wasn’t sure when the next flight out of Rome would be. I was keen to get to my destination and agreed to take the train.

  Steven got us first class tickets but to our dismay, we found our seats in the private cabin occupied by six middle-aged Italian women. They were really huge and when Steven tried to tell them that the cabin seats were not theirs, they just ignored him. I told him, “Let’s not start trouble here. Let’s see if we can find some other place.” We walked around and there were no empty seats. We walked into the restaurant to have a drink but there were no seats there too. We went back to the open space near our cabin and stood there. It was cold but we had no choice. About an hour before reaching Viareggio, two of the ladies got off. Steven and I quickly sat in the seats they vacated. One of the other two ladies asked where I was from. I said, “Singapore.” She didn’t seem to know where Singapore was. She then took out a salami sandwich from her bag. She broke it into two and gave me half to eat. I said, “It’s OK, thank you very much.” She said, “No, I say eat, you eat.” I thought, “I’d better eat because I think this woman is capable of creating a scene.” Steven told me that if I didn’t eat what she had given, it might be considered an insult. I took the sandwich and bit into it. It tasted so wonderful that I wondered why I had been reluctant to accept it. I gobbled it up very quickly. She took a glass, poured some coffee for me and said, “Drink.” It was strong coffee but the sandwich and coffee went together. I thanked her and she just smiled.

  I spent a day with the shipping company, settling issues under dispute. I returned to Rome the following day to catch my flight to Mogudishu, capital of Somalia. At the airport, I walked from the domestic terminal to the international terminal only to discover that Air Somalia’s office, where I was to pick up my ticket, was closed. Wondering what I should do next, I looked around and saw four Americans who asked me if I was also going to Mogudishu. They said they were going there but the flight had been delayed and they didn’t know how long it would be delayed. They then asked where I would be staying. By then I had already decided to stay at the Excelsior Hotel in the city. They were staying at the Holiday Inn, which was located near the airport. Before we parted, I said, “We will definitely catch up again.” I hailed a taxi and went to Excelsior Hotel. There I rang Singapore and they told me that it was a good hotel as it was near the airline offices.

  The next morning I set out to look for the Air Somalia office. All the airline offices were located in the same area. But all the offices, except for Singapore Airlines, were closed as it was Easter. I was wondering what to do while walking back when I saw two policemen riding horses on the main road of Rome. I stood and stared at them as I had never seen such beautiful horses nor had I ever seen policemen on horses before. I watched in awe as they rode past me. Suddenly a Mini Minor car stopped in front of me and a girl shouted something at me in Italian. I said, “I don’t understand you. Can you speak English?” She replied, “Yes, I do. Are you lost?” I told her I wasn’t lost and was on my way back to my hotel. She asked if I wanted a ride. At first I thought I’d better not because she could be trouble in so many ways but then I thought, “What the hell! What is there to lose?” I got into her car and thanked her. She dropped me off at the Excelsior which was quite close by and out of courtesy, I asked her if she would like to have breakfast with me. She was surprised that I hadn’t had my breakfast yet as it was already mid-morning. Actually, I already had my breakfast. The waiter must have been surprised that I was coming for a second breakfast. He smiled at me. She told me that she could speak English as she was working as an interpreter in one of the embassies. She asked me what I was doing in Rome and I shared with her my dilemma. She said, “I am also stuck here because it’s Easter and I can’t get a flight to return home to meet my parents.” She asked me what I intended to do. I said, “I need to find out when the plane will arrive. In the meantime maybe you could be a tour guide and show me around the city of Rome.” She was very obliging and I got a tour of Rome from this girl whom I later bought lunch and dinner, too. I asked her if she could send me to the Holiday Inn near the airport because I thought I might as well join the Americans and leave together with them for Somalia. Very kindly, she took me there.

  After checking in, I noticed the Americans were at the Bar. We made our way there. I introduced my new friend to them and one of the guys asked me, “Can I ask her for a dance?” I certainly had no objections. He took her to the dance floor and the other three guys just looked at me and one of them amusingly said, “How did you manage this in just a day?” I told them what happened and they laughed. As she said goodbye, I was grateful that I was not left stranded alone in an unfamiliar city for the whole day. It was a day well spent with interesting company.

  The next day, we took the shuttle bus to the airport. There, we waited and waited. Finally, we were told that the plane had not even left Frankfurt; something was wrong with the engine. We went back to the hotel, had our dinner and kept calling Air Somalia. Finally, we were told that the plane might arrive the following morning. They couldn’t guarantee us anything but they said that it would be there. In the morning, we went back to the airport and noticed that the Air Somalia office was open. I requested for my ticket. There we waited for the arrival of the plane.

  Finally, the plane arrived and when I tried to board it, the Immigration Officer told me that I didn’t have a visa. I assured him that my visa was waiting for me at the Somalian airport. He informed me, “The country is in chaos. You can get into a lot of trouble.” “Don’t worry,” I assured him. “I have been waiting here for two days. I must go.” “Alright then, you take the risk,” he retorted. I proceeded to board the flight.

  It was the most horrific plane ride I had ever experienced. Passengers had no regard for seat allocation and sat wherever they liked. Some were even carrying poultry and vegetables. The poultry were flying over our heads. We somehow managed to find a seat each.

  It was a ten-hour flight and when I reached Mogudishu, it was nearly midnight. I was told that I had to wait for Khawi’s partner, Haji, who was to meet me at the airport with my visa. So the Americans left me while I waited at the airport. I was worried as I did not know who Haji was and whether he would be coming to the airport or not. In the meantime the immigration officers and others were looking at me very suspiciously. I put on a brave front and sat there. Five minutes later, Haji came and apologised to me for being late. He said he had been coming to the airport regularly to find out if the plane would arrive but it was always delayed. That day, he decided to wait at his house, leaving only when he saw the plane descending towards the airport. He spoke to the immigration officer and showed the visa. Obviously Haji was a man who was well respected for they all seemed to be very courteous towards him. He also spoke very good English and I had no problem communicating with him.

  He drove me to a hotel for the night. “The whole ground floor is yours,” he said. There were only two or three people staying at that hotel. Feeling a little uneasy, as I was supposed to stay at the State Guest House, I asked him, “Why am I staying here?” Khawi had specifically informed him that I needed airconditioning but apparently the airconditioner was spoilt and being repaired. Haji said that he would take me there the next day. I had no choice but to agree.
/>   The next morning they took me to the office for discussions and sent me back to the hotel after that. He said he would come again at around 5:00 pm to take me to the guest house. While I was in my room, I heard gunfire and grenade explosions. I grew worried because in Somalia there was always a coup going on. I thought, “Dear God, if there is a coup now, what am I supposed to do?” I heard continuous thundering gunfire. I thought, “I’m not going to die like a rat in my room.” It didn’t help that the lights were out. It added to my panic. I took my lugguage, walked out and stood on the main road, wondering whether Haji would come for me. My thoughts were on what I should do if nobody came to pick me up. Alone in a strange country in a strange hotel with gunfire and explosions going on — it was quite nerve-wrecking.

  I waited for 15 minutes before a car approached me. It was Haji and the driver with somebody else. They greeted me and as usual apologised for being a bit late. It seemed the norm for them to be late. I took my lugguage, put it into the boot, got into the car and they drove off as though it was just another normal day of activities.

  I asked Haji, “Haji, is something happening in the country?” He said, “No, why?” A little perturbed and confused, I said, “Can you hear the gunfire and the explosions?” Casually, he replied, “Ya.” Hoping to get a satisfactory response to my confused state, I added, “I thought there was going to be a coup of some sort.” He replied, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. You see, the hotel is near a training firing range for the Somalian soldiers. They were training today with the gunfiring and exploding of grenades. I am so sorry. Were you frightened?” With a sigh of relief, I replied, “Yes, of course. Who wouldn’t be afraid?” He apologised to me profusely.

  They drove me to the State Guest House, a grand palatial building with security all around. Soldiers were marching along, carrying guns and saluting me as they all knew I was a state guest. An attendant ushered me in with fine hospitality and showed me to my room upstairs. Haji assured me that the State Guest House was safe and well protected. I laughed nervously but with some relief.

 

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