A penchant for reading, interacting and letter of the law

THE Head of State, Tun Pehin Sri Dr Wan Junaidi Tuanku Jaafar, and his wife, Toh Puan Datuk Patinggi Fauziah Mohd Sanusi, were featured in a special interview on TVS’s Dialog TVS.

Moderated by Najib Imran and Khairunnisa Kasnoon, the hour-long programme provides viewers with a rare and intimate look into Wan Junaidi’s personal journey and experiences beyond his distinguished official role.

Throughout the discussion, the couple shared personal anecdotes, insights into their family’s values, and their hopes for Sarawak’s future.

Najib: If you could share, Tun, after a year in office, how would you sum up your tenure as the Yang di-Pertua Negeri of Sarawak over the past year? How do you see it?

Wan Junaidi: Well, as someone trained in law, I see my duties and responsibilities as highly significant. Every action, every move, and every decision made by the Sarawak government is carried out in the name of the Yang di-Pertua Negeri, as mandated by the constitution.

This means I must be fully aware of what the state government is doing — because it is done in my name. Under the constitution, my authority is essentially transmitted, or emitted, from me to the state administration through the Sarawak Cabinet. In other words, Cabinet decisions must reflect my agreement, approval, or consent. From a legal standpoint, this is a major responsibility.

Fortunately, Premier Datuk Patinggi Tan Sri Abang Johari Tun Openg has always adhered to this practice. Before every Cabinet meeting, he holds discussions with me. I have also instructed the State Secretary’s Office to ensure that Cabinet papers are submitted to me at least two days in advance. I am not the type to attend meetings unprepared — I read every page, familiarising myself with the ministers’ actions, proposals, and what they seek Cabinet approval for.

Once the Cabinet approves a policy, it is implemented in my name, whether by the ministers or the Premier himself. The administration operates under my name, as stipulated by the constitution. There is no deviation from this framework. My duty is to oversee implementation, direction, and progress.

Nothing can move forward without Cabinet approval. Every minister must carry out their duties according to laws approved by both the Cabinet and the State Legislative Assembly, with my consent. This applies whether the decisions are executed through administration, Cabinet resolutions, or legislative guidelines passed by the Assembly, all of which require my endorsement.

This is why I meet with many people — it has become a routine throughout the past year. Meeting after meeting, I engage with various individuals, including Sarawak Attorney-General (AG) Datuk Seri Saferi Ali. We frequently discuss matters, whether they have already occurred, are in progress, or are yet to happen.

I must understand legal perspectives, given my background as a former Law Minister. I cannot afford to be uninformed. The AG is the state government’s legal adviser, and as Yang di-Pertua Negeri, I cannot detach myself from legal considerations. Every decision must be guided by legal advice, ensuring that governance is in line with constitutional principles.

In my first year, I met with over 170 federal agencies. Initially, I considered meeting them individually, but at that pace, it would have taken years. So, I directed the Astana administrative team to arrange group sessions. While this reduced one-on-one interactions, it allowed for broader engagement. However, if I find certain matters particularly important, I invite specific agencies for direct discussions.

These frequent meetings have made my tenure quite different from previous Astana practices. Unlike the typical courtesy calls, I have daily meetings. Sometimes even three a day because I want to be well-informed.

At the same time, I had to adjust to new protocols. I was used to a much freer lifestyle. As a minister, I was provided with a bodyguard and a driver, but outside of official ceremonies, I never used them.

I preferred driving myself or having my eldest daughter, Sharifah Fariah, drive. Even though all my children are daughters, Fariah would drive while I sat in the back, chatting away. We would go for coffee, visit markets, without using official cars or bringing an entourage.

I never brought my political secretaries or private secretaries along. If I planned to eat somewhere, I would inform them. If they joined, fine; if not, it didn’t matter.

Sometimes, at night, we’d spontaneously decide to get ice cream. I’d check the time, realise it was already 9pm, but still go ahead. Fariah would drive, Sharifah Nong-Jasima in the passenger seat, while my wife and I sat in the back. That was our little act of breaking free.

Of course, I would inform my aides, like Sandy or Hamkar, where I was heading. That was it — I was used to that lifestyle.

Back then, I’d go to a kopitiam after dawn prayers, sit for an hour or two, and chat with friends about various topics. I could feel the pulse of the people through these conversations. Sometimes, I would clarify misinformation, ensuring the public had accurate information.

That was my way of life. But here, I am more constrained. I’ve had to adjust, and at times, it has been challenging. So, I spend more time reading and writing.

Najib: So, if we look at Tun’s personal life, as you’ve explained earlier, there’s a balance — work, work, but then comes family. Family time and also moments for yourself.

Khairunnisa: Actually, Najib, if we look back at the video we prepared, we’re both really fortunate to have had the opportunity to accompany Tun and Toh Puan to the Sunday morning market recently. From visiting the market to stopping by a few places where Tun usually has breakfast, and then exploring his hobbies — it was a full experience.

If we observe, Tun was already at the Medan Niaga Satok morning market early in the day. In fact, the public might be curious, why do Tun and Toh Puan prefer going to a wet market rather than a supermarket?

Wan Junaidi: This story goes back about 40 years. I remember seeing Datuk Wan Yusuf at the market, carrying his own basket.

Back then, our fish and vegetable market was still at Jalan Satok, not at Padang Pasir. The market only moved to Padang Pasir later, after they had planned for a mosque in that area.

I met Datuk Wan Yusuf there and asked, “Eh, you buy your own vegetables?” He replied, “Of course. If you let someone else buy for you, they might not get what you actually want to eat. They’ll choose what they prefer instead. So, it’s better to pick your own.”

That was the perfect answer. People have their own preferences when it comes to food, influenced by their instincts, perspectives, and even budgeting. What one person wants may not be the same as another’s, even if it’s the same type of food.

The same goes for fish. Not everyone likes the same type. For example, people might assume I only eat expensive fish like ‘senangin’ (fourfinger threadfin), ‘manchong’ (Indian threadfin cod), or ‘jenahak’ (snapper). But that’s not the case. Just yesterday, my child reminded me, “Abah, don’t forget to buy the fish we always eat.”

Personally, I love ‘gonjeng’ (goldspotted grenadier anchovy). In Peninsular Malaysia, they call it ‘ikan bulu ayam’. That’s my favourite.

And when it comes to cooking, I’m very particular. Some households marinate fish with curry and other seasonings, making it taste like KFC. But in our home, we don’t do that. Just turmeric and a pinch of salt.

This way, the fish’s natural taste isn’t overpowered. The turmeric removes any fishy smell, while the salt enhances the flavour. That’s how I like it. I don’t follow others’ styles, I stick to mine.

Since the food is for me, I make sure to check the kitchen myself. If it’s steamed fish, I prefer it the simple way — just ginger, tamarind, and the right amount of salt. Maybe a little onion or chili, but not overloaded with ingredients. I don’t like it when a dish is too cluttered, or as we say in Sarawak, ‘rebak.’

This is why I go to the market myself — to choose exactly what I want, not what others assume I’d like. Some might go for expensive options, but I focus on what suits my taste. My child, for example, specifically asks for ‘ikan lumek’ (Bombay duck fish) because we love ‘lumek’ soup.

But ‘lumek’ isn’t just for soup. It’s also great for ‘asam pedas’. And ‘asam pedas’ with ‘lumek’ is different from ‘asam pedas’ with other fish. You have to know how to prepare it properly.

This is the kind of food my whole family enjoys, so we all share the same taste. Even Toh Puan, after two years, has adjusted. Her palate has adapted to our family’s way of eating.

It’s the same with vegetables. While she has her own preferences, I look at greens from a health perspective. For example, I love ‘ulam’ (indigenous wild leaves, herbs etc) varieties like ‘pegaga’ and ‘ulam raja’ or as we call it in Sarawak, ‘cantik manis’. These aren’t just vegetables; they have herbal and medicinal benefits.

Just yesterday, I came across something rare — Temu Paoh. Not many people know about it anymore. Some don’t eat it, some don’t even recognise it. But that’s the beauty of exploring the market. You find hidden gems that connect us to our heritage and well-being.

Najib: What about Toh Puan’s role when Tun goes shopping at the markets? Does Toh Puan offer any tips or suggestions —perhaps pointing out which fish is fresher or which vegetables are better? How does Toh Puan contribute to the shopping experience?

Fauziah: I can’t really give any tips because he’s the expert. So, sometimes it’s just like, “Oh no, that tapioca is old, that tapioca is this,” just small comments like that. But to say it’s very much, no, Tun is the person who actually goes to the market. He’s also from a fisherman’s family, so he knows even more than I do.

Wan Junaidi: But she (Fauziah) has one good quality. I just watch and tell her to buy this and that. Sometimes, it’s the fish sellers who choose, but not her. She picks it herself. She knows what to choose. She even gives me suggestions. For example, she tells me not to buy the really big prawns.

I don’t like the big ones. I prefer the medium-sized ones. There are small prawns too. People from Peninsular don’t recognise these prawns. They call them “snacks” here.

In villages like Debak and Saribas, there are lots of these kinds of prawns. They don’t have high value. But if you fry them, add a little salt, a bit of onion, and a little chili, fry them dry — don’t add water — oh, it’s delicious.

It’s just a snack, it’s not high-value. But if you cook it this way, mashallah, it’s so tasty.

Khairunnisa: We can see from Tun’s sharing, the tips on how to buy ingredients and all the cooking essentials. We all know that Tun really loves to cook. If we look back, previously, we had a programme called Aroma Astana. If we look at how Tun was involved, it even garnered millions of views. So, with that in mind, what are the essential ingredients that must be present when Tun cooks?

Wan Junaidi: When I cook, I can experiment. The real expert is Fauziah, not me. I’m the one experimenting. For example, when I first cooked rice, like fried rice, I liked to make it the way we call it ‘nasi aruk’.

You know ‘nasi aruk’, right? It’s made without any oil. So, I’d cook it with anchovies, or as people in Sarawak call it, ‘pusuk’. The ‘pusuk’ must always be cleaned, so I have to remove its guts.

Even though people say it’s full of protein, I say no. The head of the ‘pusuk’, the guts of the ‘pusuk’, must be removed. The bones of the ‘pusuk’, even though they’re small, must also be taken out. If it’s made into sambal, I won’t eat it. So, when I don’t eat sambal when I’m somewhere, that’s the reason why.

Najib: Alright, Toh Puan, we can see from Tun’s meals that he really enjoys the food. Does Toh Puan manage Tun’s diet, like what he can and can’t eat? Because looking at him, Tun really looks like a young man.

Fauziah: No, there’s nothing like that. Tun doesn’t have any restrictions. He eats everything, especially meat and lamb — he really likes them. So, there are no restrictions at all. Alhamdulillah.

Najib: In terms of diet, even though Tun prefers steamed fish, for example, I had the chance to speak with the chef yesterday. He said that the usual meals are just boiled. Simple, healthy food. So, how does Tun maintain his health?

Wan Junaidi: It’s like this, about the boiled food and everything else. Just yesterday, we were talking. He said that yesterday they made ‘cucur cempedak’.

In Sarawak, they call it ‘cucur temedak’. So, I had one. But I can’t eat that much because my throat is sensitive.

When I eat too much fried food, I start coughing. It’s sensitive. That’s why I avoid fried foods. So, I mostly eat boiled food, drink a lot of water, have soup, steamed food, things like that. It’s not that I don’t like fried food, it’s just that I avoid it because of its effect on me.

Najib: We want to know, where does Tun like to go for breakfast? Among the places in Sarawak, in Kuching, one of them is Yong Hua Cafe. Tun, what makes Yong Hua Cafe your choice?

Wan Junaidi: Actually, I have two, three, even four places that I frequent. There’s Yong Hua Cafe, and I also often go to Red Corner.

I also go to Tok Janggut, and then there’s Fian Cafe. If I want roti canai, I’ll go to Fian Cafe. If I’m craving ‘Mee Jawa’, then it’s Tok Janggut.

But when it comes to Yong Hua, it’s not just about the recipe or taste. To me, Yong Hua is one of the few places that still serves ‘kolok mee’ the way it originally was before all the variations came about.

Before the 1960s, ‘kolok mee’ wasn’t a common breakfast dish, especially among the Malay community. People mainly started with ‘laksa’ first. But I personally know the people who first made ‘kolok mee’, and the closest version to that original taste is at Yong Hua.

Over time, as more coffee shops started popping up, everyone began selling ‘kolok mee’. But many of them aren’t true to the original. The taste is different. Originality is different.

That’s what draws me to Yong Hua. And another thing — Yong Hua has remained consistent for three generations. The current owner, Alai, though his hair has turned white, is actually the third generation running it.

The same goes for the stall selling ‘Mee Jawa’—they’re also in their third generation. I knew the first generation, and after the second one passed away, the business was taken over by the next in line.

Another reason I like Yong Hua is that it’s one of the few places in Kuching that doesn’t chase people away for sitting along the sidewalk (kaki lima). Many coffee shops used to prohibit it.

Some of the regulars there would even bring food from home and eat by the sidewalk, and Alai never stopped them. But I remember one day, I was dining inside with my family when a Chinese family walked in carrying takeaway ‘kolok mee’ from another shop.

Alai immediately stepped in and politely told them, “I’m sorry, but if you bring outside ‘kolok mee’, please don’t eat it here. Many of my customers are Muslim, and I don’t want them to doubt the halal status of the food being consumed in my shop.”

That really stuck with me. He was firm about maintaining the halal integrity of his shop while still being welcoming.

Meanwhile, the sidewalk regulars—guys like Haji Johan, Fauzi, and the rest of the ‘kaki lima’ gang—would sometimes bring pots of food from home, and Alai never minded.

That’s why they’ve kept coming back for years. My friends and I have been hanging out in that same spot for over 20 years now. It’s a place that has history, consistency, and a welcoming spirit.

Najib: Many people say that Toh Puan is very good at adapting — at ease even in crowded places and able to connect with the community. How do you adjust when accompanying Tun to meet his friends?

Fauziah: Honestly, I just follow Tun. But I’ve never felt awkward in such settings — I feel comfortable because I’m used to it. If Tun himself is at ease in these places, then even more so for me. At the end of the day, we just have to adapt to whatever situation we find ourselves in.

Khairunnisa: Weekends are always packed, and we know that Tun’s favourite dish at Yong Hua is ‘kolok mee’. What about you, Toh Puan? What’s your favourite?

Fauziah: Whenever Tun orders, it’s always ‘mee Jawa’.

But as for me, I prefer ‘mee pok’—the dry ‘kolok mee’.

Khairunnisa: Tun, you seem to spend quite a lot of time at the café. What’s the sentimental value of the place for you?

Wan Junaidi: Well, I’ve known the owner since the first generation. They later opened Hak Sen Huat, which has a connection to Yong Hua. Eventually, they passed Yong Hua down to the current owner, Alai, and his wife.

Alai, if I’m not mistaken, is married to a Bidayuh woman, not Chinese. He’s a friendly guy, and so is his whole family. Even the workers are his children. If you notice, there’s a taller young man there—he’s already actively involved, and soon, he’ll take over when Alai retires.

And I believe he’ll carry on his father’s attitude, welcoming the old-timers just the same.

Take someone like Fauzi. He’s 88, turning 89 soon. He’s more than 10 years older than me, but I’ve known him since I was 14, back when we were in Kampung Jalan Patinggi Ali. He joined the police force, later left, but we’ve remained friends ever since.

That’s the thing about this place—it’s not just about the food. It’s about friendships.

When one of our regulars passes away, like Pang, a Chinese man who used to sit there every day, the whole group mourns together. When he passed, we visited his wife, consoled her for weeks, even months, helping her adjust to life without him.

It’s more than just a café — it’s a community.

Najib: I’d say that in Sarawak, coffee shops and kopitiams are quite popular gathering spots.

Khairunnisa: They’re meeting points for multiracial harmony.

Najib: And yesterday, I noticed that Tun seemed… some might say, as if he forgot. Some people mentioned that Tun appeared to forget he’s the TYT because of his demeanour. Do you feel there’s a difference in how you interact with friends now, compared to when you were a state assemblyman, a minister, and now as the TYT?

Wan Junaidi: Yes. We have to remember that as TYT, I must uphold the dignity of the position. Astana and the institution it represents must always be respected. However, that doesn’t mean the Astana prevents me from mingling with the community — there are just certain boundaries.

If anyone crosses those boundaries, I will distance myself. But people from the streets — those familiar faces — already understand these boundaries because they’ve known me for so long.

From my time as an ordinary MP to becoming a deputy minister, they have observed the protocols themselves. Even when I sit inside the coffee shop with my family, my old friends from the streets never sit with me. They respect that space.

Najib: That’s an interesting perspective to share with our audience. There’s a saying — manners are more important than knowledge. Sometimes, there’s a right place and time for everything, even when catching up with friends.

Khairunnisa: Tun has shared about his informal side — going to the market, why he chooses the wet market, his favourite dishes, and even his go-to cafés in Kuching. Now, let’s explore another side — Tun’s hobbies.

In a previous interview with Toh Puan, she mentioned that Tun and books are inseparable. Almost like best friends. It’s clear that one of Tun’s main hobbies is reading. Your home even resembles a library!

Najib: Tun, could you share how your love for reading began? How did it become not just a hobby but almost a habit?

Wan Junaidi: The story of how I became an avid reader is actually quite long. Even before I started school—when I was still too young to attend—I had already learned to read Jawi because of my early studies in Muqaddam and the Quran.

I was taught to read Jawi at home, so by the time I learned to read, my family encouraged me to read aloud. Back in the 1950s, we didn’t have radios, let alone television, so our main source of entertainment was reading books—especially syair (poetic verses).

My family loved buying books of syair. My aunt, Syarifah Rashidah, who was only three years older than me, and I took turns reading these verses aloud. We read all kinds of syair—Panji Semerang, Siti Zubaidah, Bayan Budiman, and many more. We would recite them in a singing manner, just like traditional syair performances.

When I started school, I only spent three years in Primary 1 to 4 because I skipped a grade. My teachers saw that I could already read and write well, especially in Jawi, which was the main medium of education at the time. I spent only a few months in Primary 1 before skipping to Primary 2. My time in Primary 2 was less than a year, and I completed Primary 3 and 4 in full.

Then, in Primary 5, the medium of instruction switched entirely to English, and I faced a huge challenge. I didn’t understand a single word. I had to start learning from scratch, buying different books and studying from Oxford Exercise Books meant for younger students.

I struggled to catch up on four years’ worth of English education in just three years. My school, Abang Man’s Pioneer School, offered Higher Primary (Primary 5 and 6), but students from other schools in Batang Sadong had already been exposed to English. I had not.

To improve, I became a member of the Sarawak Library, which was located inside the museum back then. Every day during break time, I would go to the library, borrow books, and read. My reading habits shifted—from syair and hikayat (folk tales) to Oxford English books for Primary levels.

By the time I reached Form 1, 2, and 3, I had transitioned to reading books like Battle of Britain and Enid Blyton. These were popular among young readers at the time, though I couldn’t afford to buy books myself.

Back then, I lived on just 20 sen per day. That covered everything—10 sen for my bicycle ride from Kampung Tabuan, 5 sen for the boat fare, and another 5 sen for the return trip. That was it—no extra money for food or drinks. If I had to bring my bicycle, the fare was 10 sen, so I had to budget carefully.

Despite these hardships, my passion for reading continued. In Form 1 and 2, I even subscribed to Reader’s Digest, which I kept up for decades—until Reader’s Digest stopped publication in Malaysia around 2017-2019.

Even during my time in the Police Field Force, I carried Reader’s Digest with me. I would reread the articles, Quotable Quotes, and vocabulary sections multiple times while on duty in the jungle.

When I became a Member of Parliament, my reading habits expanded because I could finally afford to buy books. I became a member of the Sarawak Centre for Management, which gave me access to management books. That’s when I started collecting books.

Over the years, I accumulated thousands of Reader’s Digest issues, which I eventually donated to schools and friends. I never kept them for long, even though they were valuable collections—because moving houses made it difficult to store them all.

Apart from that, I’ve also collected many books on Malay history. I own a full 15-volume set of Sejarah Melayu (Malay Annals), all in hard binding. Many of my books are still in the Peninsula, while some are here in Sarawak.

Even today, I continue reading, but I read for knowledge rather than just to finish books. I often reread books two or three times, flipping back to previous pages to fully understand the historical context.

For instance, I’m currently reading The Return of the Condor Heroes by Jin Yong. It’s the second series after The Legend of the Condor Heroes, which has four volumes—each about 700 to 800 pages long. This current series has about 400 pages. A new volume comes out every year, so I have to wait patiently for the next one.

If I’m not busy, I can finish a book like this in two weeks.

Najib: The book is over 400 pages thick, yet he can finish it in just two weeks, despite his busy schedule.

Khairunnisa: Looking at your home, which is filled with books like a library, did his love for reading rub off on you as well?

Fauziah: I do read, but not like Tun—people say books are like his soul. I read, but I don’t read heavy topics or complex books.

I prefer light reading—just casual books that don’t require much thinking. Sometimes, when I misplace something and search for it elsewhere, my child (Muhammad Fidayi Tasneem Mohd Yusriff) would say, “Bonda, try to be like Abah. Read more books.”

He would say, “Look at Abah. He never forgets anything. But you, Bonda, you keep forgetting things. It’s because you don’t read enough.”

Wan Junaidi: Well, what Toh Puan said is true. Tasneem told me that himself. I told him, “Look at Mahathir. Why is his mind still so sharp and active even at almost 100 years old?”

It’s because he reads a lot. What people don’t know is that he doesn’t even publicise how much he reads. But he reads extensively.

I used to subscribe to all the newspapers. My bedside was piled up with them. But I never had to tell my children, “Hey, you should read.” I never taught them to read explicitly.

They simply saw me reading every day. They’d walk into my room and see me reading the newspaper. The next time, they’d see me reading a book. And naturally, they started following.

Parents are the role models for their children. That’s why, whenever I took my children to the mall, the first place we’d go was always the bookstore.

This habit of reading serves many purposes. One, it inspires our children to read as well—just by following our example.

Once they develop this habit, they no longer need to be pushed to read. I see this in my grandchildren, too. They’ve all picked it up.

But I do worry about my younger grandchildren. Her mother is busy cooking and making kuih, so maybe she doesn’t read as much.

That concerns me a little because they aren’t around us as much, so we don’t have the chance to shape their reading habits. But my older granddaughter, Athena (Puteri Athena Maimunah Muhammad Syukri), she’s different. Even when she goes out to eat, she brings a book along. She always has a book with her. It’s a contrast.

Khairunnisa: That is already considered reading. If we look at it, we’ve also had the opportunity to join you and Toh Puan in your mini garden. So, Tun, why did you choose gardening as one of your hobbies?

Wan Junaidi: You have to remember, I was born in Kampung Pendam. It’s a coastal village where people didn’t become fishermen. The village had a mix of Malay, Bugis, and Javanese residents. The arrival of the Bugis and Javanese influenced the Malays to become land people, not river or sea people. So, life there revolved around farming.

My grandfather had a piece of land over 14 hectares in Pendam, fully planted with coconut and coffee trees. We never had to buy coffee.

We grew coffee, guava, and citrus fruits. The large citrus fruit people now call pomelo—we used to call it ‘limau wangkang’. The modern name is ‘limau bali’.

We also had ‘jambu bol’. ‘Jambu bol’ is rare—it’s round and white inside, with a sour taste. We had plenty of those trees, along with banana trees and many others.

So, for daily needs, apart from salt and chili, we didn’t have to go out to buy anything. At home, my grandmother always planted chilies and other small crops.

When my mother moved into her own house, she also loved gardening. That’s why our home was always filled with ulam raja.

That was my mother. No matter where she went, even if she had lived in Mecca, she probably would have planted ulam raja there too.

Our house was covered with ulam raja. At one point, the whole yard was full of it.

I planted ulam raja too. Then, when I learned about the moringa tree, known as the miracle tree, I started planting it. I had two or three trees before, but many got cut down.

I also planted tamarind. I went to Perlis, got tamarind seeds, and just scattered them around. Now, there are plenty of tamarind trees.

Yesterday, I also looked at the guava trees. There was a time when I was really interested in guava, so I planted some. I used to go to Pasar Satok, saw some plants, bought them, and planted them.

For coconut trees, I got a clone from Kampung Semilang Beradek, given by the village chief, Fauzi. I planted it, and it has been moved four times—here, there, and there again. Now, it’s too big to move anymore, and it bears a lot of fruit.

As for sapodilla (ciku), we don’t buy it anymore. Our tree produces plenty of fruit.

Najib: Tun shared yesterday that you lost your father at the age of eight. What we would like to know is, what were some of the challenges you faced, and who were the people that gave you the strength to become who you are today?

Wan Junaidi: Well, here’s the thing. My father came from a lineage of people who governed the land, so his demeanour was quite different from that of ordinary folks. He received a religious education like most people, though he wasn’t an Islamic scholar.

On my mother’s side, however, my grandfather was different. He was part of the second generation that migrated from Kalimantan. His father came to Sarawak bringing many religious books, meaning he arrived as a preacher.

He passed down that missionary spirit, and because of that, he had extensive knowledge of religious matters. His guidance shaped me significantly, especially since my father passed away when I was very young.

But even in those short years, I had many experiences with my father. He was an expert seafarer and a skilled fisherman—though not just any fisherman. He had a variety of techniques that didn’t require a large crew. He could do everything himself. He built fish traps, including one called ‘kilung’, which is a type of structure designed to funnel fish into a central enclosure.

Besides that, he was an excellent diver. He could stay underwater for up to two minutes without coming up for air, without even using goggles. He used to dive for oysters—what we called ‘sampi’—in the rocky areas of Triso.

He was a true mariner. At one point, he even captained a schooner owned by a businessman named Aju in Pendam. It was a two-masted vessel, and he commanded it with the help of two other sailors.

Growing up, I observed all of this. Even though I was very young, I absorbed everything. He had his own philosophies, one of which he instilled in me early on:

“If someone asks you to do something, don’t immediately say you can’t. Try first.”

I remember this lesson clearly because of a simple childhood moment. I used to love eating roti Mary, also known as ‘roti keben’. Back in the 1950s, there were only two types—sweet and savory. I only liked the sweet one. One day, my father told me to try the savory one, and I flat-out refused.

That’s when he gave me a life lesson. I was still very young, not even in school yet, but he told me:

“Junaidi, next time, don’t say no before trying. Taste it first. If, after finishing one, you still don’t like it, then fine. But never say something isn’t good just because you’ve never tried it. Other people eat it, so it must be good for someone.”

That same principle applied to work. He would say:

“If you need to climb a hill, climb it first. Even if you fall a few times, keep trying. If, after all your effort, you truly can’t do it, then fine—but at least you tried.”

These were the kinds of lessons he taught me.

Meanwhile, my maternal grandfather had a religious perspective on things. He would say:

“If you don’t want to eat something, don’t say it’s not good. That’s wrong in Islam. It’s still food, and others eat it. If it’s halal, don’t speak of it as if it isn’t.”

So even though my father passed away early, I was raised by a mother who strongly believed in education—reading, learning, and following in the footsteps of her own father, who loved studying, reciting the Quran, and praying. My household was full of people who could recite the Quran fluently.

My mother was my biggest supporter. She made sure I learned, and she never compromised on the importance of education.

I wrote about this in my book—one particular morning that stuck with me. Some accounts say I was playing ‘gasing’ (spinning tops), but that’s not quite accurate.

We lived in a raised house, and underneath was an open area where children would usually play. That morning, instead of going to my Quran lessons at Haji Kholek’s house—he was a well-known religious teacher in Kampung Pendam—I was just standing around outside.

My mother didn’t hear me reciting my lessons, so she came down and found me there. She didn’t scold me, but instead, she held up a hammer and said:

“Junaidi, look at this hammer. Do you know what happens to people who don’t learn? They’re only useful as ‘umpan alir’.”

Now, ‘umpan alir’ is a term used in Triso, Lingga, and Sebuyau for bait used to catch crocodiles. Essentially, she was saying that a person without knowledge is as good as bait—useless and expendable.

She wasn’t threatening me; she was motivating me in her own way. That moment left a deep impression on me. It made me realise that knowledge is everything, and that’s why I committed myself to learning.

Khairunnisa: Perhaps Tun could share with us what your expectations and hopes are for the people of Sarawak in the next five years?

Wan Junaidi: Well, here’s the thing. Looking at what the Honorable Premier of Sarawak, Abang Johari, has been working on, everything is heading towards one direction—intellectual development, knowledge, and technology. So, in this context, if the children of Sarawak want to grow and keep up with the progress that is being planned and will be implemented by the current Premier, Abang Johari, it must start with education.

It starts in schools, and it continues in universities. I am proud to be the chancellor of two universities, namely Universiti Malaysia Sarawak (Unimas) and University of Technology Sarawak (UTS).

Unimas has its own mission, goals, and specialised courses. At the same time, we can see that UTS focuses heavily on technology, engineering, science, mathematics, and things like that.

So, for the children of Sarawak who want to get involved, who want to be part of the driving force and not just bystanders, they need to study, continue their education, and learn what the government is pushing for.

Abang Johari is not someone who only understands macro issues. Some leaders know macro issues, but they may not be well-versed in micro issues. There are leaders who don’t understand the details of the very things they speak about. But Abang Johari is different. He understands both the macro and the micro.

He is knowledgeable about both. He can’t be easily deceived—don’t try to fool Abang Johari. He knows because he reads and educates himself. He not only understands the broad policies, but he also understands the fine details of what he plans to do. He has become a subject matter expert in the areas he handles at the macro level.

So, in this situation, young people in Sarawak today are given many opportunities—new schools, universities, and English language training. These opportunities are created through the Sarawak Foundation, which also runs special English-language schools.

I hope that they will go on to become pioneers in fields like engineering, technical skills, and technology. Some of them might even study at Cambridge, or they might receive their education at local universities.

Furthermore, Abang Johari also sees that, with the approval of the federal government for the Public Works Department (PWD), we should be grateful to the federal government. Since 2022, it has been agreed that the PWD and Drainage and Irrigation Department (DID) should become technical departments.

The larger purpose is for DID and PWD to manage federal projects in Sarawak, as we want autonomy.

If we want autonomy, we must be able to develop our own human capital. If the children of Sarawak are careless, distracted, and fail to seize the opportunities provided by the government for their future, then we will lose out. Sarawak will have to look elsewhere to hire people.

So, in that sense, I hope and pray that the children of Sarawak will go to school, study hard, attend university, and acquire the knowledge of the future. Don’t be tempted by shortcuts to success. It’s not just about getting into a university easily. No, we must struggle first to get to the top.

We have to work hard now, so we can enjoy the results later. The difficult subjects like technical skills, mathematics, English, and science must be mastered.

Najib: So the children of Sarawak must listen to this advice. They must master STEM. Mastering STEM is essential to face the upcoming global challenges.