Stranded Passengers of MH653

This recollection is only written as a blog post on paranormal activity, which is part and parcel of everyday Malaysian life. 

Flight MH653, with 93 passengers and 7 crew members was enroute from Penang to Subang airport on 4th December 1977 when the pilot, Captain G K Ganjoor radioed that while at altitude of 4,000 feet over Batu Arang, Selangor, the plane has been hijacked. No further details were known while all preparations were made to securely land the plane at Subang however, the Captain radioed again to say that the flight has now been re-directed to Singapore, presumably by the hijacker. Flight MH653 never reached Singapore. While flying over Tanjung Kupang in Johor it reportedly hit the ground at vertical angle and not only there were no survivors but no bodies were collected intact.

Among the notable people on board were Malaysian Agricultural Minister, Dato’ Ali Haji Ahmad; Public Works Department Head, Dato’ Mahfuz Khalid; and Cuban Ambassador to Japan, Mario Garcia plus a notable professor from University Sains Malaysia - Prof Puvan. 

1977 was still in early industrialization period in Malaysia and communication was comparatively primitive in comparison to these times. As part of the body and plane parts recovery process, Telecom Department workers were deployed to remove the human flesh stuck to telecom lines. Some who returned recounted grim stories of how they had to use their hands to remove those flesh.

But nothing beats the two tales that were recounted by firstly, an oil tanker driver and secondly, a taxi driver. It is noteworthy here that the remains of the departed were buried at Kebun Bunga, in Johor Bharu, some distance from the crash site.

In the first story, the driver who lived to recount the story was driving his oil tanker from some location in Pahang back to Singapore when he had to drive past Tanjung Kupang. Those days, there were almost no highways, so the best bet were trunk roads or more known as village roads. His gut feel did say that perhaps he should drive back in the morning, but since he wanted to reach home in Singapore soonest, he has driven that night itself. Around midnight he passed Tanjung Kupang and felt very relieved that nothing untoward happened. However, as soon as he passed the crash area, he saw a man flag him down. Since the crash site was way behind him, the driver stopped the tanker, wondering what help the man needed. And yeah, he needed big help. 

The tanker driver leaned out of his window and had enquired what that man wanted and why was he standing at a place out of no where at that time of the night. That man replied that he usually stood about a couple of kilometres back but no one wanted to stop, so he moved further up. The tanker driver's hair at the back of his neck started rising and he didn't quite feel good about the whole situation, however, keeping his composure he asked if the man required any help. To which the man replied that he and his friends needed a lift into town, to Kebun Bunga. `At this time of the night?' asked the tanker driver, but yet he still opened the passenger side of the tanker cabin door. The man hesitated, `I am not sure we would all fit,' he said. `Why?' asked the driver. `Because there is room for only 2 persons and there are 100 of us here.'

The tanker driver could somewhat remember speeding to his home in Singapore and bed ridden with fever. 

The second story was even scarier. It was recounted by a taxi driver. One midnight, a taxi driver was passing through Kebun Bunga close to midnight when a man stopped him. he asked for the fare till Tanjung Kupang. Since this incident happened a few months after the crash and we, Malaysians, have very short memory span, the taxi driver asked the man why he wanted to go to a place which is out of no where. `Oh,' said the man, `you see, they forgot to collect my right arm, I need to...' I believe the taxi driver didn't hang around to hear the full sentence!

These were two stories that I remember till today, told by my uncle as heard from his circle of tanker driver friends. Paranormal stories never fail to excite us, so if you have any, feel free to share in comments below.

And One Bad Turn...

The sky was getting darker, Ah Mei looked outside worriedly. Her brother, Ah Tong has not returned from the estate quarters. He went to send some supplies to the people at the estates, mostly Tamils from India.

Ah Mei and her brother were the only living members of her family, most of whom have been killed brutally or beheaded by the Japanese soldiers since they arrived in Malaya. It was the era of Japanese occupation of Malaya. Japan and China have been at war in their home countries but the Japanese brought their hatred over to Malaya. People of Chinese origin were beheaded or killed on sight. 

The Chinese community that arrived in Malaya lived in kongsi's. Their homes were built close to each other and usually each clan would have one kongsi to itself. In Malay, kongsi means share. Amenities and resources were shared among the kongsi dwellers. The dwellings in kongsis had soil floor where business activities were carried out along with cooking and washing. Living quarters or more like sleeping bunks were built using wood, high above the floor. 

Since the Japanese occupation, Japanese soldiers have ransacked the kongsi many times for supplies. They just come, grab supplies and leave, many a times killing some or most of the occupants. The kongsi dwellers lived in fear. Some of them joined the Malaya Communist Party or supported them on the sly. That made the Japanese more furious and raids were even more frequent these days. 

Ah Mei looked outside again, while stirring the porridge in the pot over wood fire. These days, they could only afford one decent meal a day as supplies were dwindling. It was becoming more and more difficult for anyone to send supplies anywhere. The Malaya Communist Party moved in jungles and made it  difficult to transport supplies. Whenever found, the MCP would confiscate the supplies. With the Japanese soldiers patrolling the towns and rubber estates, it was not easy to move around either. As she stirred the porridge, she spotted a lizard on the wall near the pot. Quickly, she shoo-ed the lizard away. Last week, one Pachiamma's child from the nearby estate died after eating some rice which had a dead lizard in it. The child was found dead in the morning, frothing from the mouth. Ah Mei made sure the lizard moved away from the porridge pot. 

Just as she was about to cover the pot, she heard people screaming, from the kongsis close to the entrance. Fear engulfed her. Oh, no! Not another raid, she prayed.

Screams were getting stronger and there were sounds of things falling. There were lots of shouts as well - in Japanese. Another raid. The kongsi dwellings did not have doors. The only way is to hide on the bunk that is built to sleep on. Quickly, Ah Mei put out the fire on the stove and climbed up the sleeping bunk. She was an attractive 16 years old Chinese girl, who till the Japanese occupation, attended a Chinese school nearby the Kongsi. These days, she stays at home while her brother Ah Tong goes out to earn money, continuing their family business of supplies. 

Sounds of heavy boots approached her door way. Ah Mei prayed that the falling night would help shield her hideout. The fire at the stove was almost out and Ah Mai didn't manage to light any lamp, so her kongsi was engulfed in darkness. On the sleeping bunk, there were some crates of canned products. Ah Mei hid behind them, hoping yet again that the soldiers would only grab the food stuff on the shelves in the kongsi and leave. 

Two Japanese soldiers entered the kongsi - one had a gun another had a long sword. In the dark, Ah Mei saw the shining blade. The one with sword had a gunny sack over his left shoulder. It seemed to contain something - something was clanking inside. They had already taken something from other kongsis. The Japanese with sword started to run his sword on the shelf - cans of food started falling off the shelves. Ah Mei was shivering in fear. The Japanese exchanged some small talks. They stood in the middle of the kongsi, clearly unhappy seen from the way they did not pick up the fallen cans. Ah Mei curled up even more, behind the crates. That proved to be a mistake. As she curved her body, her back hit against a crate and it fell. In the silence of the night, it was deafening. The Japanese with the sword shouted something and immediately the other soldier jumped up the bunk. With his legs he kicked a few crates and there he saw a young Chinese girls cowering away from him. He turned and said something to the soldier on the ground, who replied something.

Next, Ah Mei felt a hand on her hair; she was dragged down the bunk. She started crying, pleading mercy in Chinese. That seemed to anger the soldiers even more. One of them kicked Ah Mei's shoulder as she kneeled before them. She wailed even louder. Then one of the soldiers grabbed her arm and dragged her to the stove. He took out a can of tea leaves and gave to her while pointing to the stove. They wanted tea. Ah Mei placed the pot with water on the earthen stove and added more firewood. Slowly the fire burned again and the water started boiling, all under the watchful eyes of the soldiers. She carefully poured some water into a chinaware teapot and then poured the water away. Then she put a couple of spoonful of tea leaves into the pot and poured hot water.

The lizard was back on the wall near the teapot. She was about to cover the teapot when the soldier who had a gun suddenly pushed her to the ground. Ah Mei knew that the worst nightmare was there. She tried to get up and run, but he caught her by her hair and yanked her back. She fell backwards. Not giving up, she tried to roll away towards the entrance but his hold was very powerful. The next few minutes remain as blurry memory in her mind. She remembered one of them unzipping his pants while saying something to his comrade. Then there he was on top of her, ripping her clothes off and then...pain. Ah Mei passed out and she had no idea for how long, but that night seemed endless with pain after pain and smell of male sweat above her.

General Yamauchi sat at his table and the first thing he saw was the message from Malaya. Another two soldiers - including one senior commandant, who was his favourite soldier, had died the previous day of food poisoning. They had gone raiding some kongsi and the next morning found dead, frothing in the mouth. General Yamauchi had cautioned his men against consuming local food and looks like the dead soldiers have disobeyed his orders. Sighing, the General crumpled the paper and threw it away. Now he needs to look for another senior commandant for Malaya.

The Burning of the British Pound

Late grandpa was attending to his mandore duty when his co-mandore called him. In rubber estates, they have a very unique way of communicating. Each person who wants to call out will do so in a sing song manner, throwing his/her voice as far as possible – sounds a little like birds. Only once grandpa demonstrated the technique to me, yes, sound actually can travel over a distance.

So, the co-mandore called grandpa who was working in another part of the rubber estate using his primitive technology and when grandpa arrived at the estate office (I think, the rubber estate was owned by Harrisons Plantations then), he was told that the Japanese had landed in Kota Bharu, Kelantan. Kota Bharu is the border town between Malaya and Thailand (used to be known as Siam). The Japanese entered using bicycles, mind you! A little bit of history – as Japanese conquered countries across Asia, the Siam King had made a deal -His Majesty had agreed for Japanese to pass through in return for not occupying Siam. Thus, the Japanese never occupied Siam/Thailand.

The co-mandore told him that their white man boss had asked them to empty the safe in the estate office and burn all the British currency they had kept there. In the olden days, the safes were built into the wall, crossed with a heavy iron plank, held in place by two huge padlocks. Each key would be held by one person, that was their risk mitigation. If he safe needed to be opened, both key bearers need to be present.

However, on that day, the co-mandore had both keys and both, grandpa and he started emptying the safe. Apparently, there were bundles and bundles of British currency in that safe. While grandpa started a fire, his co-mandore started removing the currency notes. Not all the notes were thrown into the bonfire. As grandpa watched, the other man started stuffing the currency notes into his pockets! Late grandpa was a loyal employee who followed instructions to the T.

His friend’s actions baffled him. Why, he asked. `Look here, anna (brother), the white Bosses have all ran away to Singapore. They will go back to England from there. No one is going to save us. One day the Japanese will go away, then we can use this money,’ he said as he stuffed more notes into his pockets. Grandpa just watched. After burning as much as they could and having stuffed enough in his pocket, the co-mandore and grandpa returned to their homes.

In hindsight, looks like the co-mandore did the smart thing, not right, but smart. The Japanese occupation ended in 1945 after Hiroshima and Nagasaki were bombed and when the British returned, their currency was back in circulation. Grandpa said, the last he heard, his co-mandore had used the money he stashed away to set up a farm and rear cows somewhere in the southern part of the Peninsular. And grandpa? The loyal employee was poor as ever and I remember him showing me one note that he had kept all those years. I asked him – grandpa, why did you take just one? You should have taken more so that we will also be rich now. To that he answered, `I didn’t think it was right to steal from the hand that fed me.’ Yes, gramps, it was not right, and you did the right thing.

Pachiamma `Kura’

The year was in the ‘40s. Japanese occupation was at its height in Malaya. I have written before on the atrocities of the Japanese soldiers when they were in Malaya. The Chinese communities were beheaded on sight, their shops raided, their women raped and killed. The Indian immigrants were not spared as well. Most were estate workers who had to leave for rubber tapping as early as 5 a.m. constantly fearing wild animals, ghosts…and Japanese soldiers.

                                                (Not my grandma 😂😃)

That day, my late grandmother, Rosemary was out tapping rubber, minding her own business. Along came a Japanese soldier also minding his own business, but late grandma had not forgotten the spat she has with another Japanese soldier where she had broken a bottle of rice broth (see https://survivingemptynestmyway.blogspot.com/2019/10/who-is-responsible-for-our-dignity-and.html ). So, in her style of resistance, she spat on the ground to show her displeasure over his presence. Firstly, grandma should not have done that. What was the need? Secondly, spitting on to the ground is like 9/10 kind of insult. The Japanese soldier didn’t take it well. He called her `Kura, kura’. I believe in Japanese language `kura’ means come. She went and stood in front of him, a midget of a woman dwarfed by the not so tall Japanese soldier. He had said something in Japanese, she did not respond. Then he asked for her name – surprisingly, in English. Grandma Rosemary knew she was in trouble by then, so she said her name was…yes, you guessed it – Pachiamma! I do not know whether it was her ingenuity to have done that or she had thought that the Japanese was just asking for her name and no consequences to be expected, but nevertheless, she pulled the stunt. So, Pachiamma it was.

Later that evening, at their estate quarters, Grandma Rosemary was cooking when she heard some vehicle driving into the estate complex. A moment later she heard a familiar voice calling out `Pachiamma, kura’. Guess that Japanese soldier didn’t forget after all. During Japanese occupation, rule of the thumb was, if any Japanese soldier coming looking for you, it ain’t good news - RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! And that was what late grandma did – she ran for her life and hid in the jungles behind the estate quarters. Another person also ran, too – the real Pachiamma!