"Do you want to say Goodbye to your family?" My first meeting with ISD.
Article #2
On 26th of June 2016, Shireen, our 6 children and I landed in Kuala Lumpur International Airport (KLIA). We planned to spend a few days in Malaysia before heading to Singapore to meet with my mother. We would then head back to Negri Sembilan (Shireen’s home) for the first day of Eid.
Notwithstanding the threat of arrest, it was supposed to be our best Eid ever. Apart from visiting my in-laws in Negri Sembilan, Malaysia, we planned to visit the island resorts of Tioman and Langkawi. The kids wanted to visit Thailand too, just for a day (so that they could say they have been to Thailand).
We spent the months leading up to the trip organising our activities. The last Eid that Shireen and I celebrated prior to leaving for Melbourne in 2002 was in Singapore with my side of the family. In 2016, we agreed to visit Singapore a few days before Eid, leave for Shireen parents’ house on the eve, celebrate Eid in Negri Sembilan for a couple of days before heading back to Singapore.
And from there, it would have been to the resorts with our parents. One of my friends had a hotel in Langkawi and had offered us rooms (in return for a cup of tea when he visited Melbourne).
My parents in law met us at KLIA. Shireen’s dad was unwell. He was bent double. But he was still his pleasant, happy self.
He asked me when I would complete my PhD. I told him I should complete it within the year.
“Bagus, bagus” (Good, Good) he smiled happily.
My father in law used to work as an auditor with the Singapore government. He was proud of his service to Singapore. Hanging proudly on the wall in his home in Negri Sembilan was a commendation certificate for his retirement signed by President Wee Kim Wee.
That meeting, would be the last time I met him. He passed away while I was in detention.
Shireen told me that while I was in detention, everytime he spoke about me, he would cry.
We stayed in Selangor for a few days and shopped for Hari Raya clothes in Bangi.
On 1st July 2016 Shireen, our children and I drove to Johor and visited my cousins. At around 5pm that evening, we took the bus to the Tuas second link.
While standing in the bus after clearing the Malaysian immigration, I saw Shireen looking worried. I knew that she was terrified I would be arrested.
As we passed the Singapore/Malaysia border, I felt the sensation of handcuffs on both my hands. The metal around my wrists felt so real. It lasted for a few seconds and then I felt at peace.
We were close to the Singapore immigration and could not turn back.
I whispered to Shireen “Abang rasa abang kena tangkap” (I feel I will be arrested).
“But it will be ok” I assured her.
Shireen looked at me with fear in her eyes. I saw her chanting non-stop. She was making selawat over and over.
At the Singapore immigration checkpoint, I took my 12 year old daughter Nafeesa and 5 year old son Umar to queue in the Singapore passport line with me. Shireen and our 4 oldest children queued in the foreign passport line.
At the counter, I handed our three passports to the Malay immigration lady. She took sometime with my passport and suddenly got up, left the booth and walked away with my passport pages opened.
I was used to it.
It happened almost everytime I entered or left Singapore. The immigration officers would take my passport away for “administrative reasons”.
I was told to go to the immigration reception office.
It was shortly after the time to break my Ramadhan fast. I gave Nafeesa some biscuits and had some for myself. Nafeesa looked scared. I tried to distract her with the food.
After around 20 minutes of waiting, I was told to go to another office. A Chinese officer in his early 40s and a Malay in his late 30s instructed me to go with them. I asked Nafeesa if she was ok. She nodded her head.
“Can you take care of Umar for a while?” I asked her. She nodded again.
A lady officer told me they would keep an eye on my children while Shireen went through the immigration queue.
I was taken to a small office. The two officers sat opposite me and gave me some pieces of paper and a pen. I was told to write my wife, children and my own personal particulars. Birthdate, place of birth, occupation etc.
They told me they were waiting for their superiors. The Malay officer looked excited.
He smiled and giggled the whole time we waited, as though he was waiting for something exciting to happen. After about 30minutes, their superiors had still not arrived. They gave me more paper and told me to write my work and educational resume.
I knew they were just trying to waste time until whoever they waited turned up. Finally, the door flew open and 3 men in civilian clothes strutted in.
The first was a Chinese man in his early 40s, about 1.8m tall with a flat, pronounced jaw. He had a lazy walk as though he did not have any care in the world. He seemed to be the one in charge.
Then a Malay officer in his mid 50s and about 1.6m tall. He looked fit (I later learned he used to play soccer for Singapore’s B team and played for the Police soccer team).
And then another Chinese officer, in his late 30s, about 1.7m and balding.
“ISD we will take over” the lead Chinese officer announced.
He then looked at me and almost nonchalantly asked me:
“Do you want to say Goodbye to your family?”.
Two other Malay ladies joined in. “These are the Aftercare officers. They will communicate with your family.”
I asked them for their names.
I was taken to another room where Shireen and my children were waiting. A lot of officers (I was later told they were mainly ISD officers) were standing about. Some of them looked angry.
I hugged Shireen and told her I had to go for a while. She held me so tight that I could feel her hug a long time after that brief moment.
Then I realised that my second son, Iskandar, was not in the room.
“Where is Iskandar?” I asked Shireen.
“They took him away to interrogate”.
ISD officers had taken my 3 oldest children to be interrogated.
As I left the room, I met Iskandar. I touched his face and told him I had to go for a while. He looked upset and confused. I was still optimistic that I would be questioned and released that night. Maybe go for a few more rounds of interviews the next few days, but I would be back with my family.
That night lasted almost 4 and a half years.
Continued in the next article.