Peace Corps Malaysia

Letter from Victoria Institution to parents, September 16, 1967

Dear parents, 

What Ho! 50 bucks, a card, and a funny article! The month has started splendidly. Thank you very, very much, and I miss everybody all over again. The money came in extra handy because the custom over here is for the birthday boy to pay for his own party, and we had a big one: eats, wine, a home movie (from the USIS film library), And then bowling at the Merlin Hotel. I paid back social obligations to about 10 people in one fell swoop. With the rest, I bought a fan for an Indian family, who had been extra nice to me (and were extra nice to Raja during his last few months), and a toaster for Raja's family. I feel pretty good now. 

John, the article was just right. Boy, I miss that sort of stuff over here.  I started laughing helplessly in the staff room, and was forced to pass it on to other teachers. Nobody else thought it was very funny, but everyone laughed politely. Next time I’ll open your letters in the privacy of my own room. If you come across more of the same, please pass it on: I enjoy it 10 times as much over here as I would at home. How I wish I had heard that concert…

Len wrote a great letter, telling absolutely nothing of his Indonesian adventures, but confirming again our December holiday plans. It sounds good and solid now. It would be stupid of me to detail what we are up to, because it’s too fabulous a trip to describe in writing, but I might mention Wow and Oh Boy and a few Whoopees. I will be able to retire from tourist topping in January with impunity. I am training daily, and quizzing local jungle experts, on fire building, jungle, shelters, leeches, and so on. We'll be gone about a month, and I think I persuaded my Peace Corps boss to give me two weeks off in January to recuperate (probably in the Philippines) before my university job begins. It’s not home leave, but it’s better than nothing, and even Manila should look good after a month in the trees.

Remember in one of my mimeo sheets, describing a crazy fellow we stayed with in Bangkok last summer? The one with the CIA phobia? Latest developments: 1. He's moved into Nan, a city in northern Thailand, and the entire population is scared to death of him; 2.  He’s being sued for back pay from one of his former secretaries (a Swiss girl); 3.  He took off to visit his Miao friends last month, and his Miao friends reported to Nan that he never reach the village. Tune in next month for further developments.

Merdeka (freedom) day celebrations have come and gone, but they were great while they lasted: no school for a week, and all sorts of exhibits, processions, and spectaculars to distract the eye. I wandered all over town every night, snapping photos at random; enclosed are three samples. I asked my students what they thought of it all, and their comments were revealing: the Chinese thought it was a waste of money, and one more example of the Malays determination to dominate them; the Malays thought it was a lovely demonstration of racial unity; the Indians were split down the middle, depending on who their friends were. This country has enormous racial problems, but at least everyone recognizes them for what they are. Another nice characteristic: they express their disapproval of the situation (or of each other), in words rather than in bullets. Some of our American cities could learn a lot from the Asian way of sublimating violence. I’ve been here almost 2 years, and I’ve seen only a handful of examples of outright violence. I feel about 10 times safer, walking the streets of KL at night than Market Street at high noon.

My Saturday morning, swim beckons me. Thank you again for the quarter century reminders, and see you in Hamburg.

Love and fondles, Big Sam

Letter from Victoria Institution to Mike Drooker, September 16, 1967

Dear Mike, the Drook,

I’m glad to hear the fecal level is back down to normal; your letter gave off only a faint haze of turd breath, and I was able to read it in four second stretches, hanging out of my balcony window. The neighbors below me moved the next morning, and the pest exterminator made 50 bucks, but it was all worth it.

So you served your stretch, have you? I assume that means LB (“Mad Bomber") Johnson won’t be giving you a free ticket to Southeast Asia in the near future, and that is good news. He gave me one two years ago, when I joined the Peace Corps in Malaysia. I have so far served three months short of two years, and I have extended my stay another year, so by the time I return to America (early in 1969), I will be 26 and passed my fighting prime. I think we should congratulate each other on missing the action.

I am a secondary school teacher of mathematics, and a pretty lousy one at that, at a very good school in Malaysia's the capital city; in fact, it’s supposed to be the best school in the country. I do other sundry jobs, like coach track, give talks on the American Way of Life, ogle my girl students, and play my flute, But mostly I just teach. Next year I transfer to the University of Malaya (the only university in the country), where I will lecture on computers and help run the rinky-dink IBM 1130 (the one computer in the country). And ogle my girls students. After that, I will probably head west on an extended trip home, arriving in New Hampshire just in time for a hot bath and a rice-free meal. You better be there.

If you are interested in some more details of my stay over here, I’ve got a few mimeographed sheets I’ve been sending friends which are suitable for both wrapping fisg and wiping runny noses. They describe the trials and tribulations of living and traveling in this part of the world, and are guaranteed to make the Oriental way of life appear even more inscrutable.

Now I must head for my morning workout, followed by my morning swim, both an instances of an extended effort to fatten my emaciated body up to a respectable 165 pounds and to strengthen my wind in anticipation of a month-long jungle sojourn in December. Give my best to your parents and sisters (give me a picture of Bernie, and tell her I want to marry her), keep your esophagus in trim for a belching reunion in 69, and where the hell is Wayne Madison?

With love and fondles, Sam

Letter from Victoria Institution to family, October 24, 1967

Dear Folks, 

My goodness, only six weeks of classes to go, and I’ll be through my two-year contract at VI. How time does fly. My duties have shrunk to teaching about one class a day, because my Form Five and Six boys and girls have been sent home on study leave. They return in the middle of November for their very important School Certificate and Higher School Certificate, examinations, respectively. If they don’t get good marks in these exams, they have had it in this country – wish them luck.

Yes, everything is in transition. My Japanese roommate leaves for the Philippines in just three days, so I’ll be moving temporarily to another cheaper flat along Pudu Road, center of the Chinese Secret Society complex. I’ll be in the third floor of an apartment whose second floor is a massage parlor, and whose first floor is a makeshift theater for dirty films and assorted live shows. You really get to meet the people in the Peace Corps. Next year I have been allocated a flat just next to the university which is absolutely gorgeous, however: hot water, two bedrooms, two baths, kitchen, and so on. Everyone else in the area is teaching at the U also, so the neighborhood quality should be a notch or two higher than it is now. I am itching to get into that community and start thinking again.

My other roommate, Jim, leaves early in December for a round-the-world flight, stopping him off in his hometown in time for Christmas, and in Kathmandu for New Year’s Day. The fool. Other volunteers, who are terminating our planning to hitchhike across Asia, ride motorcycles across the Arabian desert, take the Trans-Siberian Highway, and so on. We have a bunch of nuts over here, I tell you. But don’t worry: I plan to outnut them all. The day school is over (December 1) I fly to Singapore for some jungle shopping, and then on to Kuching for a three day stopover (I still haven’t seen the capital city of Sarawalk). Because of transportation difficulties in Len’s area, I’ll have to fly to Brunei and take a speed boat to Lawas.  The cost is high, but there’s no other way to get there on time. He wants me by Wednesday, and we start hiking Thursday morning. It’s going to be one of the longest, grubbiest, most difficult hikes ever attempted by a volunteer Sarawak by a Westerner. Wowee are we in for a fabulous time. I’m a pro on jungle hazards now, and I bought a new camera especially for the trek. We are all set, really set. The best news of all is that Peace Corps has approved the hike as a project for me (a very unusual move, since I am a West Malaysian volunteer) – I guess Len must’ve persuaded his boss that we were on to something big.  Project approval means that I don’t have to use up next year’s vacation days (22 of them in all) in December, which means I’ll have some free time if you decide to drop by this part of the world next August.

After the hike, we will try to regain our health and sanity in Kuching, as well as write our notes up with the aid of the Sarawak museum library facilities. I don’t know how long this will take; perhaps a week at most. Then Len must hustle back to Lawas, for his school term begins in the beginning of January. Big Sam however, will have all kinds of time on his hands, because the University doesn’t open until May. And because December was all project, Peace Corps has granted me two or three additional weeks of vacation time, to be taken in January, and to be filled as I see fit.

Now comes the hard part of this letter: explaining why I’m not using that period visit you two in California. I admit from the start that no technical difficulties lie in the way of this trip now: I got a government travel request to cover transportation, and even five bucks a day spending money. But there are a lot of personal obstacles in the way. First, because I originally thought I would only have a week or so free, I had arranged to stay with a close friend in Sydney until his wedding, and then head back to K.L. I would have to break promises to get out of this now, and I don’t want to. Anyway, Sydney sounds pretty good. Second, I’ll be seeing you too in no time if the August talk is taken seriously, but there are a lot of places I’ll be visiting, and people I’ll be staying with, that I would otherwise never get to. I hope that doesn’t sound as awful as it looks. Third, one reason for returning homewould have been to visit old Becky in South Pasadena, but I learn only yesterday that she’s getting married in December. We had no fixed agreement or long range plans, but I still care a lot about her, and this news makes a homeword trip seem even less desirable. Finally, I really don’t have anyone to see, or any important things to do, at Stanford, other than sleep late and eat steaks. All of my school mates have long since left the scene, and any others, I may find on the roadside will be attending classes at Stanford (including Becky). What can we possibly find to talk about in the week or so that I could be home? I much prefer coming home with the idea of not returning to Malaysia, so I can concentrate on getting my roots dug in to California soil. Around of visits with old family friends frankly leaves me cold.

Anyway, that’s my present state of mind. I think I need to stay in the East this holiday, thinking and relaxing a lot. I’m just not up to a reentry into the states, especially a two week one. When I come home, I want it to be for good. Do I sound confusing? Then I haven’t express myself well enough. I hope you understand my feelings.

Now, about this August noise. I like it, I like it. Len and I will both have three weeks free in August, and I’m sure he’ll be dying to get out of Borneo by then. Alternative plan would be like this: we would meet you in Hong Kong (all Pacific flight stop there from Japan), Skip down to Manila (new to all of us), then, to Jesselton, the capital of Sabah, leave Len in Brunei, then to Kuching, Singapore, and Kuala Lumpur. You could continue on to Bangkok and points west, having seen most of the Far East under the tutelage of two expert guys who require only steaks and air-conditioned hotels for their services. I picked this route, because our transportation cost would be very low. (it’s a specially priced air ticket); it would take about three weeks to get from Hong Kong to KL, where are you might want to rest up for a while. Think it over. We really love to have you.

Not much else to report. I was in Singapore last weekend on a mad shopping spree. You should see the Chinese mini skirts! Whoopee! I stayed with a VIP whose neighbors include the Malaysian high Commissioner and the Ddeputy Prime Minister. Fat City. After seeing Singapore’s hustle and bustle and bang, KL seems even more like a sleepy little kampong city. The contrast grows more vivid every time I visit that little country south of us. Keep your eye on Singapore if you want to follow the action. I hear Lee is making quite a splash in the states? I wonder how big a splash he would’ve made, had he been anti-Vietnam… Mom, your first hand reports on the riots and the protests are great, but I find it hard to correlate them with the situation I knew when I left in 1965. The home front must really be changing. I sure hope there are some hippies left by the time I return.

Give my best to Brother Boodie, and love to everyone, 

Big Sam

P.S. if you think of sending Len or me anything for Christmas don’t. Customs is getting stickier here every day. I’m not poor, but a check wouldn’t hurt – nothing big though please. I get guilty feelings when a three digit baby arrives in the mail.

P.P.S.  Bob wrote me, asking me to buy a jade brooch for Bert. I priced the Jade in KL and Singapore, and decent brooches are very expensive. Anyway, I don’t know the quality and color of Bert's other jade pieces. I wrote all this to Bob, but now I’m asking you for advice: maybe we should all get together and buy Bert a really nice jade piece? Please advise.

P.P.P.S. Expect an unusual letter from a fellow teacher soon (one of my best friends in school, but violently hawkish.) he’s going to castigate you, because I’m a dove.  Give him hell in return.  No holds barred.