AFTER I had trained in supervision at Cashwood Estate in Ayer Tawar, Perak in 1965, I got my first job as assistant manager at Tanah Merah Estate in Tangkak, Johor, which was planted with rubber.
Not many even from my village understood what my job was and they had looked down on me when they heard that I was working on an estate.
But when my mother came to see the big house, with lights and fans, and water from a tap, she was pleased. Soon, she asked to take in my younger brother.
He was Shukor, about nine years old when he came to stay.
He had a room to himself and he enjoyed life on the estate, and not having to walk to school, except that he had not much interest in studying.
He was a gentle person, who smiled a lot and I loved him like a baby when I left the village.
But I found that I could not do much although I tried to help him with his lessons in the evening.
Soon my older brother Alias came to visit. He was a corporal in the army camp in Mentakab.
He was someone who would light up my day when I got to meet him and saw his smile.
He even had a Humber bicycle with hub brakes that made a lovely sound.
I saw I could show it off at school and when I asked for it, he gave it without hesitation.
And now he had asked if his son Khidzir could also join Shukor in the big bungalow. I agreed immediately and he got a room too.
A year younger than Shukor, he was very alert, with lively eyes, and he took in all he saw. He was diligent with his books.
Soon, both boys were on the bus getting to Ledang school and I hired an elderly woman to cook and take care of their clothing.
But Shukor became active after school hours, and he was keen to go around the estate, especially to look at wildlife.
The area stretched to the foot of Gunung Ledang.
At the border was where wild pigs roamed and often we could see them come in to dig for worms at the base of the rubber trees, but they would dash back into the bushes when they heard us coming.
It turned out there were tigers as well and on some days we could hear them roar.
The workers weeding nearby would drop their work and go home, and as a practice, the estate gave them full pay for the day.
I gladly upheld that tradition and was thankful that the tigers were going only after the pigs.
Further up at Gunung Ledang, I would take Shukor and Khidzir to the water reservoir to see the big lake and how the water rippled with the mountain breeze.
Its expanse stretched into the dark forests and we would not go there, where in the real world tigers and pythons might lurk.
In the ethereal world, the legendary Puteri Gunung Ledang might still exist and we did not want to incur her wrath. We did not dare to fish.
But we could go to the water treatment house, where the reticent keeper was attending to the pipes and valves, using metal polish and a thick cloth.
The floor was spotless. He kept the place squeaky clean.
From the foothills the streams flowed through the estate, fresh enough to drink and on some weekends we would walk along the sandy bottom with a net to each pool.
The fish were mainly big barbs and some small crabs and prawns.
Meanwhile, Shukor’s reports did not improve in school and it was a worry playing in my head.
Khidzir went on to get good scores and I was pleased with them.
When I moved to the oil palm estate called Pamol, they moved with me.
They attended Tengku Mahmud School in town, boarding the bus down the hill from the big wooden bungalow where we lived.
Sometimes after dinner, I would drive on the dark estate roads and the two boys would point out civet cats in the headlights.
The elephants were in the adjoining jungles, but they would come in sometimes at night, walk around the bungalow and leave as silently as they came.
All I could see in the morning were their plate-sized footprints on the lawn.
In the day it was mainly the white-breasted water hens that would be a common sight crossing the road, while the spotted doves would feed boldly at the edge, moving away only when we got near.
The jungle pigeons were more shy, staying hidden in the high trees.
Often in certain months, one could see green parrots which would fly in flocks wheeling and landing on the palm fronds to feed on the ripe fruits.
They were up there and you could hear the bits of fruit fibre drop.
They too knew palm oil was good for them.
Sometimes after rain, the wild fowls would come out to feed on the bits of kernel in the shell spread as surfacing for the road.
The cockerels, brilliant red and blue, were in charge. When they warned of danger, the hens would fly low over the palms to hide again, while those with chicks would hurry them quickly into the ferns.
Sometimes friends ask me if there were many snakes in the estate.
Yes, there were and I could meet a python once in a while, stretching across the road and I would see that the car windows were wound up fully as I let it pass.
The grey king cobras were long and sleek, but rarely seen.
But the black cobras were often on the ground or seen climbing the palms looking for prey.
They were not looking for trouble with humans and would rather be left alone.
Khidzir went on to finish his studies. Eventually, he got married to a girl who had a head for business in catering and selling cookies, and they made a good living out of it.
Shukor did not do well at school until the end, and he got a minor job in a plantation company head office.
But it turned out he worked well with people and soon I heard he was promoted into the field and worked his way up as a supervisor.
I visited him once in Sungei Ambat estate, near Mersing, and saw he was well settled there at the staff house.
He worked for the company until he retired with a pension and benefits that included payments for any medical bills. I was pleased for him.
I, too, went on working until I retired, and then worked as a consultant which gave me a chance to be on plantations again.
Sometimes I would go to Tangkak and Kluang to see the bungalows once more and recall back those memories.
The writer has extensive experience in the management of oil palm plantations. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com
