(July 6, 1942 - August 13, 1989)
This is my first attempt at blogging and I would like to start with a mini biography of someone special to me and my son, Nash. He is none other than my dearest departed significant other, Allahyarham Haji Muhandes Bin Haji Mohamed. I would like to create a permanent record of his life story, and some of the things we did together, before failing memory corrupts the data stored in my head. This blog is a tribute to him and the timing of this blog is to coincide with the 19th anniversary of his passing....August 13.
About His Unique Name
Amongst the skydiving fraternity, his nickname was Martinez (more later on how he got this nickname). Many had the impression that Martinez had Indian blood in his lineage because of his name; however, Muhandes is Arabic for Engineer, as his father had wanted him to become one. The Indian moniker is Mohandas – as in Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi aka Mahatma Gandhi.
His Early Years
Martinez was born on July 6, 1942 and he was the eldest of seven children. His dad was a Hospital Assistant (also known as Dresser) at the Taiping Hospital and mum was Hajjah Bebe Ab Rashid, a former nurse at the same hospital. His siblings were Elisha, Eliza, Eleanor, Monty, Mahathir and Muzaffar. He was educated at the King Edward VII school in Taiping and went to college at RIDA (that subsequently became MARA, and now, UiTM).
Allahyarham (the late) Haji Mohamed bin Hussein
Hajjah Bebe Binti Ab Rashid (seen here with Nash) From his early days, Martinez was different from the rest of the crowd. He sewed his own (fashionable, in his view) shirts, loved biking, horse riding and was also into remote-control planes, ham radio and cars – the last three hobbies he inherited from his dad.
A Ladies' Man..no doubt
His Love for Speed and Cars
He had a love for speed and was involved in Vespa races during his college days. His love for speed also saw him getting involved in motorcycle scrambling (Motor Cross), Grand Prix racing (Saloon Car category) and horse racing as an amateur jockey.
Motor Cross Race at Batu Tiga (No. 18)
"Mat Rempit" in Action? A big attraction was the Saloon Car category that saw the local boys in action. The local big names then were Yoong Yin Fah and Joanna Yoong (Alex Yoong’s dad and mum, respectively), William Mei, and Kenny Lee (grandson of the late Tun HS Lee who was recently convicted of murder when he fatally shot a lady at the wheel of her car in a case of road rage).
If I remember correctly, Alex Yoong was then a toddler running around the pit stop in his diapers!. The top local motorcycle rider was Sonny Soh.
Posing for a Fan
His racing cars, which were also his personal cars, were British-Leyland Mini 1275 GT and Mazda RE. Pre-race days were stressful times for Martinez and yours truly. We would spend days and nights at a workshop in Segambut owned by Simon Veloo, himself a saloon car racer. Preparations would involve lifting out the engine, fixing carburetors, cam shaft and god-knows-what-else that mechanics do to prepare a car for a race. During this time, it was best not to cross his path as tempers would flare to meet the tight deadline for scrutineering day.
With Sir Jackie Stewart (The Flying Scot)
Martinez was also a self-taught mechanic and he loved tinkering around with vintage cars that he bought from scrap yards and had them rebuilt with parts brought in from London through his friends who worked in MAS. His favorite models were British-made cars such as Austin Seven (N2468), Austin Healey (AA 9191) and Austin Healey Sprite (M8579).
His three "other lovers"....Austin Seven
.....Austin Healey
....Austin Healey Sprite (Frog Eye)
An Amateur Jockey
Martinez had a love for horses in his early years and when he could afford it, he joined the Selangor Polo and Riding Club (SP&RC) in Kuala Lumpur and trained to be an amateur jockey and also played a bit of polo.
A fascination for horses from an early age
Our daily routine would start with an early morning jog around SP&RC (Ampang Hilir) after which Martinez would ride and I would go to work. Jogging along Ampang Hilir then was enjoyable as it was not a busy street as it is today. I followed him around from one race course to another and also learnt to identify the names of horses, jockeys and trainers. His horse was named Mr M – after the shadowy boss of James Bond fame.
Martinez did not last very long as an amateur jockey as he loved to cook (and eat) and keeping his weight below a certain level was difficult. However, he continued to ride.
Fencing
He was also attracted to fencing and participated in epee and saber events. Being a competitive personality, his involvement in any sport would include participation in competitions and fencing was no exception. In the early 80s, he competed in the World Fencing Meet in the former Yugoslavia. Although he did not win, the experience was another chapter in his colorful life.
En guard! A duel over a maiden, perhaps?
Soaring High….As a Pilot
As a child, Martinez dreamt of becoming a military or commercial pilot but could not realize his dream as he was color blind – and since good eyesight is a pre-requisite for a career pilot, his dream remained only a dream. The next best thing he could do was to enroll in a flight school to qualify as a private pilot. He joined the Royal Selangor Flying Club and qualified for his PPL (Private Pilot License) under the tutelage of one Captain Zainal from the RMAF, now known as TUDM.
In the cockpit of a Cessna
From the Air to the Depths of the Oceans
When I was transferred to Houston on a work assignment, Martinez worked in a dive shop and in lieu of salary, he had free scuba diving lessons. He qualified as a PADI-rated instructor and he made dive trips to many sites, most notably Cancun and Cozumel in Mexico. He also explored underwater photography to capture the beauty of marine life.
I was not involved in this activity as I have a phobia for depth and my active imagination would switch to scenes from Jaws….I am more comfortable when I can see the bottom and I can only confine myself to the swimming pool.
Diving with a buddy (rear)
Locally, he made dive trips to popular sites such as Pulau Redang, Pulau Lang Tengah and others on the East Coast and in those days, one could still enjoy the pristine waters of Malaysia’s diving sites – unlike today where our greed for development comes with an ecological cost.
Where Eagles Dare….
In the late 70s, we stumbled upon a group of adrenaline junkies whose weekends were spent jumping out of fully serviceable airplanes in out-of-the way airports in Malacca, Ipoh and Kota Bharu. We joined the MSPA (Malaysian Sport Parachuting Association) which was founded by ex-commando Capt (R) Moid Yahya.
This would be the start of a new, crazy adventure that took us to different corners of the world to pursue our love for the sport. I was initially apprehensive about skydiving but listening to after-jump stories related by jumpers upon landing, I was curious to try. Also, since he was spending so much time with the group, I decided that if you can’t beat ‘em, you join ‘em.
Training was rigorous as the trainers were ex-commandos who (I suspected) enjoyed grilling us poor civilians, as they had been grilled by their army superiors. The skydiving paraphernalia in those days were heavy and cumbersome. We had to strap on army-style round parachute with reserve chute that was carried in front. Walking around in a jump suit and jumping boots with the parachutes strapped on made one feels like carrying a ton of rocks. Coupled with the fear of making that leap, the pre-jump feeling was agony!
Jump plane - the most uncomfortable ride, ever!
During training, we learnt how to perform the PLF (parachute landing fall, or, more appropriately, painful landing fall). The aim is to roll onto one’s side on falling so as to break the impact of the fall. Also included were lessons on flight theory, activating the main and reserve parachutes, emergency procedures and packing the parachute after landing. Although packing is the responsibility of the Rigger (a qualified parachute packer), it makes sense for the skydiver to learn to pack his/her own chute as one’s life depends on it.
Adrenaline Junkie after the "Royal Command Performance" jump for DYMM Seri Paduka Baginda Yang Di Pertuan Agong (HRH the Sultan of Pahang)
This was one sport where we managed to convince family members to join – two of his brothers, Monty and Mahathir, and my sister, Hamizan, also took up skydiving.
Skydive Arizona!
Due to limited airspace, skydiving in Malaysia was difficult and we had to travel out of town. It was also expensive due to airplane rental and aviation fuel costs (which was nowhere what it is today, though!).
To pursue our love for the sport, we enrolled in a skydiving school run by Tony and Donna Frost in Marana, a town about 30 miles north of Tucson, Arizona. It was here that Martinez got his nickname as Muhandes was too difficult for the Americans to remember and he was actually mistaken for a Latino when we first showed up.
Senor Martinez from Malaysia - complete with stetson and cowboy boots!
The most memorable jumps for me were a night jump during summer where we had a great view of the Arizona skyline from above and my first attempt at Relative Work (a group jump where skydivers attempt to get into a mid-air formation before opening the parachute).
Ready, Set, Go!
Relative Work (RW) was done from 15,000 feet (where the air is thin and the highest one could go without oxygen) and I must admit it was very scary. We jumped from a B52 bomber and being the least experienced in the group, I had to exit first and hung onto a railing outside the plane with the others ready at the door, the force of the wind from the propeller twisting my face muscles.
On hearing the signal of “ready, set, go”! I threw myself away from the plane, got into a spread-eagle position to stabilize the fall and waited for the others to catch me. Trying to catch me was tricky as, being a novice, my body position was not quite stable and I fell faster than the other experienced jumpers. In order to catch me, the others had to “track” (falling in a head down position, hands at the side which would result in a faster rate of fall – ala stunts in a James Bond movie). Martinez was also in the group and we had a mid-air photographer following us.
Adrenaline Junkie over Arizona....free as a bird
Besides the United States, we traveled to Indonesia, Germany and Holland to partake in skydiving activities with friends from the skydiving fraternity.
I was the first Malaysian woman to compete in the Asean Parachuting Championship which was held in Bogor, Indonesia, in the early 80s. Jumps were made from PUMA helicopters which I found more enjoyable as the blast from the propellers above allows a jumper to fall down in a stable position as there is no need to fight the wind blast from the propellers in front.
Adrenaline Junkie (left) with the Indonesian Ladies Parachuting Team
It was during one of the jumps at the competition that I had a hard landing and injured my left knee, which, to this day, is still bothering me and the reason why I cannot execute a proper golf swing (I need something to blame, don’t I?).
Conquering South East Asia’s Highest Peak
As we were both fit and in great physical shape from daily jogging and gym, we did not heed recommendations that we train for climbing before attempting the assault of Mt Kinabalu (13,435 ft). The climb took place on August 30, 1981 and we made it to the summit on Merdeka Day…..August 31.
It was only during the climb that we realized that one cannot fool around with nature and the trek was torturous because we did not train to climb – knee joints, ankle joints and our toes took a battering…as we climbed a set of steps hacked out on the mountain side, we would look up to see more mountain terrain looming ahead…oh god! When will we ever get there? As the climb progressed, the air became thinner and it became more difficult and exhausting to climb. We stopped every half hour or so and our guide made sure we did not stop for too long as it was very easy to doze off in the thin air.
How much further?
Climbers usually make it to Laban Rata (10,000 ft) in 3 to 6 hours. Because of our slow progress, it took us 9 hours, arriving late in the evening after setting out at 8 am from the Kinabalu Park headquarters! In 1981, accommodation at Laban Rata was just a small hut for climbers to put up for the night before the final assault which took place at 3am the following morning.
There were no facilities such as hot food and beverages, hot showers and heated rooms that are available today. Because of the cold, we spent the night huddled like packed sardines and in the middle of the night, I caused quite a stir when I jumped up with a shriek as I felt a rat nibbling at my toes – the place was rat-infested due to food left over by climbers.
The Final Assault
Dressed for the cold and armed with a torchlight each, we started the final assault at 3am on August 31, 1981. As it was dark, all we could see was a long line of lights snaking its way on the mountain ledge. We had to move in single file and held on to a rope that guided climbers in the dark. At one point in the night, one of the climbers, Datin Rose Ismail (who is now, I believe, with The Straits Times), started screaming that she was too scared to go on…halting all of us behind her. There were shouts of “get on with it…move, goddamn it” in the dark from the climbers behind and it took nerves of steel for Datin Rose to continue…and she actually made it to the top.
Low’s Peak
The distance from Laban Rata to Low’s Peak is only 2600 ft but the climb took us about 4 hours as it was on naked granite rock. As the sun rose at dawn, we could already see the majestic summit….but it was a case of so near yet so far. A couple of climbers suffered from hypoxia (a shortage of oxygen in the body due to thin air, which caused dizziness and vomiting) and had to abort their ascent to the peak, which meant that they did not qualify for certificates issued to climbers who made it to the peak and signed a log for record purposes.
I literally crawled on all fours for the last few hundred feet, too tired to even stand. Climbers had to be very careful as the rock surface was slippery from overnight dew.
Standing atop Mount Kinabalu gave me the “on-top-of-the-world” feeling, it was so serene and surreal…it must have been more exhilarating on Mount Everest….if one makes it alive to the peak, obviously. It also made me realize that I was just a tiny speck in this universe of God’s creation…and one could not help but marvel at the greatness of the Creator. There was snow on the peak and at one point, I braved myself to peer over the side of the mountain and ….eek! All I saw was a sheer 90-degrees wall all the way to the dark chasm below!
There just enough time to sign the log, pose for a photograph and then it was time to descend – we had to descend by around 7am as after that, when dark clouds appear, it would be impossible to find one’s way down and one might freeze to death overnight on the summit as climbers are not equipped to spend the night at the peak.
Adrenaline Junkie "Getting High".....On Mount Kinabalu
Down, down, down!
The descent was more painful than the climb as our knees felt loose and our “brakes” did not work - it was down…down…down all the way! When we saw what we had climbed the night before, we were very thankful that the final assault took place at night…for we had actually climbed a narrow mountain ledge with sheer sides dropping to a bottomless depth that we probably would not have had the guts to attempt in daylight! As my knees were wobbly by then, I descended the rock surface by sliding down on my butt – and, by the time we reached the headquarters, my jeans and underwear were in tatters!
Our Bersanding Ceremony – Four Days After the Descent
When I conveyed to mum that we were climbing Mt Kinabalu, she almost hit the roof because our bersanding ceremony (a wedding ceremony where the bride and groom are displayed to the public on a decorated dais, as king and queen for the day) was to be held on September 4, 1981.
What if something untoward happened and the invitations had already been issued….she pleaded. I assured her that god willing, we would be safe and sound and would make it for the bersanding. We made it alright….albeit in a robot-like state as our bodies and limbs were too sore from the activities of the last few days prior to September 4.
A Smile To Disguise the Aches and Pains from the ClimbPerforming the Haj
Martinez was an average Muslim and not an overly religious person in his youth. However, towards mid-life, be became more religious….he performed his daily prayers, congregated at the mosque on Fridays, gave alms to the poor and fasted the entire month of Ramadhan.
One day, at the age of 46, he had the calling from above that it was time to go (to Mecca, to perform the Haj, the fifth pillar of Islam). The calling came after Subuh (dawn) prayer while reciting some verses from the Qur’an. He was lucky enough that a colleague at his place of work, Bank Bumiputra Malaysia Berhad, was a Sheikh Haji (one who arranges for, and prepares, would-be pilgrims for the journey to Mecca). It must have been his karma that an ailing man had to cancel his trip and Martinez got on the list to replace him.
Martinez left Kuala Lumpur on June 30, 1989, and all the way to the plane, he was still reading verses from the Qur’an in Romanized script, as he could not read the Jawi (Arabic) script very well. Based on accounts from strangers who knew him in Mecca and who later attended his funeral as his death made national news, Martinez had a difficult time during the Haj as he had minimal amount of money, due to the unplanned nature of the trip. However, through all the hardship, he completed the Haj – thereby fulfilling his obligation as required of all Muslims.
The Day My World Crashed
August 13, 1989 was a Sunday and I was at the office, to take care of work that had piled up while I was on vacation in Bali. The trip to Bali took place two weeks after he returned from performing the Haj and it was our last trip as a family. Nash and I had accompanied him to a skydiving competition.
Before going to the office, I had dropped him off at the Sungei Besi Air Force Base, Kuala Lumpur, where he was to board an army plane for a rehearsal jump into the Merdeka Stadium. The demo jump was for the opening of the 1989 South East Asia (SEA) Games, which was held at the Merdeka Stadium. I was to pick him up at the Stadium around 4pm that day, after the rehearsal.
When I arrived at about 4pm, one of his fellow jumpers and close friend, Capt (R) Aziz Ahmad, was anxiously waiting for me outside the stadium. He requested me to follow him and got another jumper to park my car. He would not say where we were going and as I followed him into the stadium, I had a sense of foreboding that something was wrong…I thought it was another accident as he had injured himself before.
As we made our way to the control room, press photographers started to snap my photo and, on entering the room, my heart started thumping when I took a seat in front of another jumper, Major (R) “Mike” Shukor and the head of the Special Forces at Sungei Udang Camp, Malacca, whose name I can no longer remember. Then Mike Shukor said something in between sobs and I knew then, even before he said the exact words, that Martinez had left us.
I was told that there had been a mid-air collision between Martinez and another jumper, ex-commando Shaharuddin aka Rambo. Due to the collision, their parachutes became entangled and they both plummeted to the ground, landing at what used to be Bulatan Merdeka, in front of Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka.
Martinez succumbed to internal injuries on impact while Rambo went into a coma for 5 days before he, too, passed away. The day Martinez died was exactly 44 days from the day he stepped onto the plane for the trip to Mecca. He was then 47 years of age, having turned that age on July 6 while he was in Mecca. He wrote me a letter on that day, while in Mecca, which I received about a month after his demise. It was as if he knew his time was near and the letter was his parting words to me...to take care of Nash although I was busy with work, etc.
August 13, 1989 was the day when my world crashed but it is not my intent to blog about the pain and agony of losing someone who is supposed to spend his life together with me to raise our only son, Nash. I have done my grieving in private. I have often been asked who was to be blamed for the accident (Martinez or Rambo) and all I would say was that was his destiny. As the Malay saying goes, Kita hanya merancang, Allah yang menentukan (we can only plan, but it is Allah who decides)....may Allah bless his soul. Al-Fatihah….
"Happy Are Those Who Dream Dreams And Are Willing To Pay The Price To Make Them Come True" - Anonymous
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