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KIRKBY A Many-Splendoured Thing

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HOMAGE TO A Corner of Lancashire For Ever Malaya Dato’ Yunus Raiss JP FRSA FCIL MEd BA BSc (Econ) M.Ed, Barrister, Dip TEFL, Dip Ed Research  21.12.2018 I Invasion by Invitation A passage to Blighty, Nature’s island fortress, invasion by invitation to remould East and West nearer the heart’s desire. Shall I compare these twain to the Spring of Love? More lovely, more dulcet, with great expectations, I must say, a multi-faceted innovation bringing colour to sombre Britain like Edmundo Ros’s hip-swinging rumba to war-torn, determined London. In 1952 they came to little Kirkby from sunny Malaya to austere cold January winter; and in the misty autumn of the same year more arrived, to a fog-choked Liverpool bristling with brollies and bowler hats, to grimy, rainy, colourless Manchester, still with its satanic mills, lost in oversized, sombre overcoats, in sarong, cheongsam, saree, some looking like Maharajahs, some petite cherubim. They learned to b
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The Uncle, The Atuk, The Greatest Teacher

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He who made me believe in myself, and helped me reclaim my self-confidence. He who made me stand up for what I want, and encouraged me to dream big. He who introduced me the word 'Wisdom', and taught me how to acquire it. He acknowledged my strengths more than I do. He reminded me to be a good person, not just rich and intelligent. He spotted my weaknesses when I was clueless about it. He patiently and endlessly corrected my repeated mistakes, and that was the best gift in my self-betterment journey.  You were always there, guided my overthinking mind,  answered my philosophical questions. You shared about life and love, while eating Mee Rebus, like an Atuk giving precious advice to his cucu . Your warm 'Hello!' and 'Bye!' on the phone, will sincerely be missed. Your words of great wisdom, will forever be remembered. Your final word to me  will be my strength to fly. Now, I must learn to cherish what I
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Impatient With Fools But Loyal to Friends

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https://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnists/2019/08/513656/impatient-fools-loyal-friends
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Dato Yunus

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He didn’t learn to read or write until he was fifteen, but the man today who is stitched in white and being lowered into Wealden clay beside the commuter line near Woking could turn a poem – though that, in truth, was not his calling. He knew the art of encouraging, certainly. His school at the heart of Covent Garden might have been its soul. He offered to help me, as the tailor he was apprenticed to had helped him climb out of poverty and reach the first of his twelve degrees, at last achieving the top rung. Magistrate. Datuk Yunus. Entrepreneur of Englishness, whose own vowels puffed at the pennant that flew its proud colour from his suit pocket, blew in the silken rigging of the ties he wore, elaborate, knotted as if to moor himself Melayu. We saw him at St Pancras, the Renaissance Hotel, last winter. Not well, but still the complete man, distinguishable, enthroned with waiting travellers. Unintimidated, he lies among sultans now. Beneat
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The Uncle

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I was looking for a place to do my highest degree, This busy city was the last place I could imagine, Little did I know I would cross path with someone, And that relationship stayed for 3 years and 10 months. I came to a foreign land with a foreign culture, Even the language I knew sounded so unfamiliar, I found comfort in his teaching that decoded, Of many things that seemed peculiar. With his stimulating ideas, I started to view things with a critical mind. I learned from him not to feel complacent with the status quo, For I should not just follow the tempo. He reminded me that entitlement is nothing, For I should strive for everything. The journey of unlearn and relearn my thinking habits, Was hard in the beginning, but it was worth trying. Though admitting faults in my thinking hurt my pride, The changes it brought to my outlook couldn't be described. You trained me to become an original thinker, You showed me the way to becom
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The Greatest Teacher

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Assalamualaikum WBT. Today I want to share a class with you, I like to call it 'sharing session'. I have been attending this class every Friday night for the past 3 years since I started my Ph.D. I have benefited a lot from this class. This class called "English Language; British Culture & Intellectual Thought for Malaysages", held every Friday from 6.00 to 8.00 pm. The aim is to help Malay students in the UK improve their English language and better cultural insights required by current affairs. Back in Malaysia, I was brought up in a 'safe' environment where I was not exposed as much to the 'world'. So, when I first came to London to do my Master's, I was a bit of culture shock. My first 3 months were quite tough; first to catching up with the language (their British's accent) and secondly adapting to the culture (social and way of thinking). But, sadly back then, I didn't know about this class, so I managed the adaptation proce
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Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth's Sapphire Jubilee of Longevity Diversity Prosperity

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"You never had it so good," said Harold MacMillan to the people I I ain't no mogul of nothin, mate, But A cat may look at the Queen. Little Lilibet of Mayfair Reached 90 on 22 April 2016 Four days short of Shakespear's nativity. 'Queen Elizabeth II is a Great Queen, a Great Queen indeed' Hockney's Westminster Abbey window proclaims. In 1955 I from the land of the tiger, the pelandok and the hornbill, In a Kirby College blaze glimpsing through the Lancashire morning mist Her Majesty the Queen, was caught in a spell Of mystique and splendour Forever and ever. Full stop. Fire, fire, Hitler's fire, do not come again another day. But if you do, we can take it. We have King George, his brave driver Lilibet, lion Churchill. We are the unbeatables: 'We shall fight on the beaches, in the streets and On the hills. We shall never surrender!' Elizabeth and Philip, Inseparable, conjoined in holy matrimony.
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Norhayati and Syed; Two Lovable Malaysages

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We are leaving, dear Uncle, leaving tomorrow We miss our beautiful Malaysia. Will you remember us sometimes? Always, my intellectual proudly roaring tigers Burning bright in daylight and at night too With hearts of gold and fabled Malay courtesy How will you remember us? Industrious, smiling, co-operative, intelligent. Always with much love, lovely Norhayati, Number One, and sagacious politician Syed, a future PM in the making. When will you remember us? at sunrise, at the going down of the sun, on Fridays. Yes, in winter, spring, summer, autumn in the monsoon rains and the dry hot season too. I will remember you always in all seasons. My two lovely swans. Out of sight, out of mind? Never, twin towers of strength and dignity Like Nelson's Column and Marble Arch in Hyde Park. Never. You will always remain a part of me. Dato’ Yunus Raiss JP FRSA FCIL MEd BA BSc (Econ) M.Ed, Barrister, Dip TEFL, Dip Edu Resear
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The Old Man and His Penang Durian

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by Dato Yunus Raiss Dedicated to Dato' Zainul Aziz In the dark of the night with a gentle thud falls the aphrodisiac Durian The Old Man covers his head with a corrugated iron sheet Its intoxicating scent is the old man's increasing heat He looks here, he looks there, for the tantalising seducer by torchlight. The Old Man covers his head with a corrugated iron sheet This Old Man says men are naturally polygamous He looks here, he looks there, for the tantalising seducer by torchlight Women, men know, are very desirable but instinctively monogamous. This Old Man says men are naturally polygamous The Durian easily converted the sagacious Chinese Women, men know, are very desirable but instinctively monogamous Trigger-happy Communists used the Durian to torture the Japanese. The Durian easily converted the sagacious Chinese The well-webbed thorny Durian is not bad or mad or dangerous Trigger-happy Communists used the Durian to torture the
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In the Dock

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At the Old Bailey Socrates was a brave man in the dock, the midwife to thought did not look sad in the dock. Far away from his retreat, Hitler looked old in the dock, sceptics said he was really mad in the dock. Unsteady on her feet, she swayed in the dock, ‘I’m adulteress,’ she said and crashed in the dock. Strangely enough Mrs Rottenbury was glad in the dock, ‘I’m really, really happy,’ she said, ‘I have my man in the dock’.  You are not mine, Junejan in the dock, You were and remain a cad in the dock. Dato’ Yunus Raiss JP FRSA FCIL MEd BA BSc (Econ) M.Ed, Barrister, Dip TEFL, Dip Edu Research 28.05.2019
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