TRIBUTE ABDUL - Perdana Library

TRIBUTE TO TUNKU ABDUL RAHMAN
people who flee daily across the border are genuine political refugees.
They keep a watch too for agents who may be planted by the Communists,
and also for criminals with major records. It is not sufficient
merely to be dissatisfied with conditions in East Germany; you
have to prove to the satisfaction of the Commission that you are
genuinely suffering from political oppression contrary to your basic
beliefs. And it is no use trying to hoodwink the Commission, as the
members have been through it all, and know the answers, and their
interrogation does not take place until each case has been investgated.
Seated next to the Tunku was one of the best interpreters in
Germany, who whispered in his ear every question and answer as
the human drama of interrogation went on. But it was hardly
necessary to know German; the crisis was written on the faces
of the farmer and his wife. He was 53, a lean sinewy man of the
soil, with alert blue eyes; she was a little plump red-faced dumpling
of a woman, dressed in her Sunday best, a prim hat on her head
and gloves on her anxious hands.
Briefly the story he told was this: He had a family farm of a
hundred acres, and when the threat of collectivisation first came,
he divided his farm and gave one half to his sons. For various
personal reasons the two sons and a daughter stole away at different
times to the West, leaving their parents alone. There came a second
demand for immediate collectivisation. He protested it was midseason;
couldn't they wait till October? He was threatened with
arrest if he did not agree at once, and he learned later that the immediacy
was due to the fact that the local Committee wanted to report
the best possible figures. He told a friend he would rather leave his
farm than surrender it, as from his experience collective management
ruined farms. The friend said he would help but he must be ready
to go when asked.
At mid-night next day there was a knock on the door. A
man said he was a taxi driver from East Berlin and he would take
them there. So at dead of night they left their farm where the
family had lived for generations, putting all their faith and trust in