Page 19 - PULSE@FASS e-Bulletin 04_2020
P. 19

Issue no. 4 | 2020


                                     IN MEMORIAM




                        Salleh Ben Joned  (1941-2020)






















               Final-year students and academic staff of the Department of English, UM, 1985        Salleh Ben Joned
                             (Salleh Ben Joned, seated fifth from the left)
                                                                                    BY ASSOCIATE PROF. DR. MARY
                                                                                            SUSAN PHILIP
    2020  has  been  the  cruelest  year  for  the  Malaysian  literary
    world,  taking  two  seminal  writers  from  us  -  K  S  Maniam  in  intriguing   lecturer   who   taught   him   eighteenth-century
    February,   and   Salleh   Ben   Joned   just   a   couple   of   months  English   Literature.   His   first   encounter   with   Salleh   was   in
    ago,   on   October   29th.   Salleh   was   a   maverick,   an   actor,   a  Lecture   Hall   A.   All   the   students   were   waiting   for   Encik
    writer   who   made   no   compromises   or   apologies   for   the   Salleh Ben Joned.
    often   difficult   and   uncomfortable   ideas   he   shared   in   his
    poetry.   But   to   many   of   us   from   the   English   Department,  Suddenly   they   heard   the   distinct   clapping   sound   of
    Salleh was first and foremost a teacher and colleague, and  sandals   from   the   back   of   the   hall.   Turning   around,   they
    that is what I want to focus on here.                     saw   a   slim   man   in   blue   jeans   and   black   shirt,   and   in
                                                              Japanese  slippers,  make  his  way  down  the  stairs.  He  then
    I   joined   the   Department   in   1985,   a   nervous   first-year  proceeded  to  sit  cross-legged  on  the  longish  table  in  front
    wondering what I had let myself in for. I was put in Salleh’s  and  began  his  lecture.  The  entrance  was  indeed  dramatic
    tutorial  group  for  one  course,  and  was  immediately  taken  and  sealed  my  friend  Gerry’s  impression  that  this  was  one
    by  his  energy,  his  passion,  and  his  sheer  present-ness.  He  singular   person.   As   time   went   on,   Gerry   and   Salleh
    was   completely   focused   on   us   in   class,   and   seemed   to  became   friends,   “kakis”,   and   the   young   undergraduate
    genuinely   want   to   draw   ideas   and   thoughts   out   of   us.  spent   many   happy   hours   at   Salleh’s   house   listening   to
    Such  was  his  charisma  that  I  felt,  after  that  one  class,  that  I  rock music and discussing literature, music and life.
    had   made   the   right   choice   in   joining   the   Department.
    Sadly,   just   a   couple   of   weeks   later,   he   left   the   University  When   I   joined   the   Department   five   years   later   as   an
    permanently.                                              undergraduate,   I   was   already   filled   with   a   mix   of
                                                              anticipation  and  a  little  trepidation  at  meeting  Salleh  -  but
    Salleh   was   known   for   his   sense   of   humour   –   as   a   satirist,  what  an  interesting  name  he  had!  Our  first  meeting  was  in
    he  could  turn  it  against  others,  but  he  was  able  to  laugh  at  his   office.   As   the   group   of   us   spilled   into   the   small   room,
    himself   as   well.   Fadzilah   Amin,   formerly   of   the   English  there   he   stood,   dressed   all   in   black   (which   I   soon   learnt
    Department,    recalls   an    occasion    when    the    was   his   signature   style),   to   greet   us.   Then   nimbly   he
    undergraduates  of  the  department  decided  to  send  cards  jumped onto his desk and started his lecture on Alexander
    to  all  the  lecturers.  These  cards  had  literary  quotations  on  Pope’s   “The   Rape   of   the   Lock”   without   looking   at   any
    them.   Salleh’s,   much   to   his   amusement,   read   “O   Rose,  notes.   Just   the   book   of   poetry   before   him.   He   would
    thou art sick”.                                           suddenly   stop,   stare   at   one   of   us   and   ask   a   question   in   a
                                                              somewhat   rough   manner,   and   the   student   (all   of  us   were
    Associate  Professor  Carol  Leon  of  the  English  Department  so  scared  by  then),  would  spurt  out  a  response.  Needless
    says   that   word   of   his   reputation   reached   her   before   she  to   say,   I   did   not   hear   a   word   of   that   lecture   that   day.   But
    had   even   joined   the   Department.   Her   friend   who   had  gradually we all started to admire this unique lecturer who
    studied under him years before “used to talk about this   taught so well on eighteenth-century literature. Pope,



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