By RUSSEL LEE
Musician,male, 22
Nobody ever dared to offend the Enrik in my
school this was becaused whoever did so would
have the worst pains inflicted upon him. By this,
I don’t mean that he tied you up and whipped you
or cut up your guts.teachers don’t do things like
that. But there are other dark methods no one
ever hears of....
My Encik taught us Malay. During the day,
he was soft-spoken and conservative. He never
lost his temper, but the senior assistant didn’t
like him. It seemed that there were complaints of
Enrick being “complacent”. When I discussed this
with my classmates, they said it meant that Encik
was lazy and never did his work properly.
I suppose there was some truth in it. Of all my
teachers, Encik did give the least homework and
the highest marks. He would have been the first on
my popularity list if he was not sickeningly boring.
His lessons consisted of countless yawns, espe-
cially on hot afternoons, yet would rap our heads in
a most irritating manner if he cought us snoozing.
bloody inconsiderate. As students, of course, we
couldn’t say anything. But there were thesen who
weren’t willing to take this and criticised him like
anything.
And that was when the trouble started.
The critical senior assistent was the first to
experience his fury. One day, he called theEncik
Into his office for a good talking to. Apparently, it
was about some administrative matters that the
Encik had not finished punctually. Halfway throuh,
the senior assistant gave a loud yell and ran out
shouting , ‘help, monster!” He kept on spouting
gibberish. He claimed the Enrick had transformed
Ionto a fiery red creature and ordered him to mind
his own buniness. Otherwise the creature would
teach the senior assistant a painful lesson.
The staff room was thrown into unprecedented
uproar. The strange thing was that Encik had been
the principal for the past hour and there was no
way he could have been with the senior assistant at
the same time.
Then the senior assitant broke into convulsions
and writhed on the floor in agony. He kept screeching.
“There is something biting me from inside! Take it out,
quick! Stop” The biology teacher gave him a thorough
body check, but there was nothing to be seen. What
could it be that was gnawing at him?
They sent him to the hopital, to no avail. The doctors
could not detect any physical problem. Finally, his family
asked a bomoh to help. The bomoh said that it had been
the mischief of “firedevils” which had beset him. They
were probadly reared by an enemy of the senior assis-
that’s and sent to torture him.
Ah, the Encik- no one dered to confront him after that.
no, not even the principal himself. Everyone was sweet
and friendly to the Encik.
Until one day, an ignorant parent came. She com-
plained that the Encik had raped her son on the head with
his during lesson.
“Corporal punishment”, she bawled in the staff room,
“is no longer applicable in our modern age. How can you
use violence on a young, defenceless student?”
Outside, we students were watching with bated breath.
It was recess time. Knowing what had happened to our
senior assistant, we waited eagerly for the showdown.
It came.
The mother was about to continue with her commotion
when she suddenly doubled up and whined in distress.
“My stomach”, she cried, “so painful” It becama so bad
She went on her knees.
She begged piteously, “Im sorry! Please, whatever
spirits I’ve offended, Im sorry! I will burn you offerings...”
Then, and then only, did her pain cease. I remember
seeing the only, did her pain cease. I remember seeing the
smug snile of satifaction on Encik’s face.
My friends and I kept a close watch on the Encik after
that. There was once we caught him preparing some offerings
at a deserted spot behind the science laboratories. He was
praying, facing theest. In front of him was a whole chicken,
egg and some yello rice, placed on a banana leaf. But that was
merely a fleeting glance. We didn’t dare to keep looking.
Later, though no one said it aloud, the whole school knew
that Encik was in lengue with some eveil spirits. Our principal
arranged for Encik to be transferred, on the excuse that it
Was some sort of promotion. But this didn’t fool anybody.
Encik himself knew that the school feared him. I don’t
think he liked it at all.
We were on our toes the entire period before he left,
careful not to incur his wrath. I was sure the teacher
heaved a sigh of relief after the obligatory farewell party.
But he relief after the obligatory farewell party. But he
created havoc before he left. Our canteen caught fire that
Saturday after and was burnt to ashes. My art teacher was
especially heart-broken, because all his masterpieces in the
attached art storeroom had been destryed in the flames.
Many reason were given for the fire. But no one men-
tioned the Encik at all . In the end, my art teacher was blamed.
They said something about his flammable oil-paints. But for
those of us in the picture, we knew the truth.
It must have been the Encik’s fire-devils.
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