Posted in Rohingya

Budak ‘Rohingya’ seronok kira duit 

Nanti bila dah besar sikit, kanak-kanak nih bolehlah jadi remaja jutawan.

#  Malaysia — the Land of Endless Possibilities

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7 thoughts on “Budak ‘Rohingya’ seronok kira duit 

      1. can agree, but who can forget the classic act of waving keris if demand not met? doesnt what the rohingya kid did mirroring a number of umno jutawan?

    1. Juga si politikus muda yang menjadi mercu harapan dan impian bakal PM10 bagi puak Dapster.

      Kan Syed Saddiq ada duit begitu melambak-lambak sampai wang suku juta ringgit disimpannya dalam bentuk tunai di rumah.

      Dia tu menabung dari sejak kecil lagi ke?

  1. My sympathies are with the refugees of the World. From the Rohingyas to the Libyans and the Syrians right across to the Venezuelans and Cubans. I was a boy refugee once. THE ONLY EX-REFUGEE IN OUR BELOVED MALAYSIA STILL ALIVE. In 1941, I was a boy living in my father’s house near the Sungai Besi aerodrome.. All of a sudden, I was whisked away to Cameron Highlands. We could not reach Tanah Rata before the 6 pm curfew was imposed at Tapah. We spent the night in a lodging house in a quiet and blacked-out town. Through the night, I could hear the ebb and flow sound of throbbing engines of planes flying high above us. By morning, we were ensconced in our house in Tanah Rata. But by the afternoon, we rushed back to Kuala Lumpur to board a train for Chaah, Johor the following day. We arrived at our rubber estate where I tasted watery bean curd for the very first time in my life ! At around 9 am, the following morning which was sunny with a blue sky, as my maid servant hurriedly led me to the air-raid shelter just yards away from the bungalow, I could hear the loud sound of the engines of a low flying plane. I looked up as I was hustled along.. I saw a silver aero-plane with large red rondels on its body and wings flying just above the rubber trees. I could hear the sounds of fire- crackers and the rubber tree leaves whistling as we ran towards the air-raid shelter. We were in Singapore the following day. As far as I could remember, Singapore’s December was wet and grey in 1941. For the very first time, I spied our driver cooking his tapioca lunch with its pungent smell. There were air-raids every day and night. One afternoon, a bomb fell at the bottom of our garden. I could pick the shrapnels embedded in the tembusu and the walls of our house in Ridout Road. Suddenly, one late afternoon which was wet and grey with low hanging smoke over Singapore’s Keppel Harbour, I found myself being grabbed by a pair of white hairy arms belonging to a person dressed in white and swung onto a swaying wooden ladder attached to a dark painted forbidding ship, the Free French MV Felix Roussel,s 19,000 tons. The next morning I found we were lodged with a group of Jewish women who wailed when 17 Japanese Mitsubishi Bettys flew over the convoy to bomb us as we sailed through the Banka Straits.. They missed as the ack-ack from the destroyers kept them high.. According to the historical records, the MV Felix Roussel was in the last convoy with the SS Devonshire escorted by the INS Sutlej and an Australian destroyer which left Singapore at mid-night 6 February 1942. After a 7 days journey, we arrived in Bombay, India. I remember it took us a long time to disembark. We found the Indians who were Hindus, Muslims, Parsees and Anglo-Indians friendly, sympathetic and hospitable which will always be etched in my memory in gratitude to them and Mother India, a great country full of dynamic cities and peoples, flora and fauna, and historical sites coupled with the best curries in the World ! But it was no fun to be a REFUGEE !

  2. kalau budaya semua benda nak rakam guna smartphone tak wujud… isu ini mudah disettlekan…. haihhh

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