Hussein Abdul Hamid aka STEADYAKU_47

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31 October 1947 – 15 February 2024

Education:       MCKK

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The Steadyaku We Remember

By Zach Hussein

I remember sometimes when my father was feeling particularly stressed, a day when he was perhaps trying to write three articles at once (which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence), or maybe a particular source hadn’t called back or a story turned out to be unusable, or we simply were having financial troubles (which also wasn’t uncommon), I remember on one of these types of days my father saying to me, ‘no one can write like me.’

He wasn’t saying it with arrogance or with conceit, but more as a reminder, as a reason to keep going. That his voice had meaning, that his writing had meaning, because the voices of those reading had meaning. It was this duty that kept him up at night, sitting in a chair that hurt his back, staring at a screen that hurt his eyes and typing words that at first he wasn’t sure if even one person was going to read.

My father’s name was Hussein Hamid, but most people in Malaysia would know him better by a name that by chance turned them into secret political gossips, metaphorically passing dog-eared copies of his articles to each other behind the watchful eye of the ‘Ministry of Truth’ like they were joining the character ‘V’ on a vivified vanguarding vendetta against the violence of virulent venal vice.

That name of course was Steadyaku47, and like V, with everyone who read and everyone who shared the same ethos, he became more than just one man. But Steadyaku47 wasn’t grandiose, he wasn’t a subscription or a populous news website with advertising and a staff, he was simply a man like anyone of us. A man who didn’t want to see democracy dying in darkness.

For those interested in his process, my father had a very minimalistic way of writing. He would use a clipboard with several pieces of printing paper attached and a ball-point pen, that’s it. His hand-writing was distinct, a little messy but with purpose. He would lounge on his bed or on the sofa, quite often with the T.V. on in the background (maybe CNN) or with some music playing (usually The Beatles, Elvis or a Malay melody) and write.

When he wasn’t writing, he was on the phone at all hours of the day and night. Talking to sources, tracking down leads, or simply having conversations with people and laughing about something or another. That was his main talent, not the writing necessarily, but the connections, connections with people and connections to the story.

And boy could he get stories. I remember him telling me how amazed people were about how he could publish a story so quickly about something that had just happened with a piece of information that no one knew and more importantly, he was right. How did he do it? I think sometimes he even astonished himself, after all, he wasn’t a writer. There was just something innate about Steadyaku47, just something he had within him.

One of those undenying innate driving forces behind Steadyaku47 was a desire to change the landscape of Malaysian politics for the better, to be able to speak the words that were felt by so many Malaysians, and to hold those who were corrupt and who took the nation and its people for granted accountable. These are all true and noble motivators to be sure, but I suspect there was another reason behind Steadyaku47 that compelled my father to create it, a more personal reason.

When my father started writing he had been away from Malaysia for maybe ten years and I feel he was starting to miss it. He missed his home. He missed being able to meet up with friends at 1am at a Mamak Stall and talk about politics and life and laugh and joke, he missed the sights, the sounds, the smells, all the things and all the people that made Malaysia distinctly Malaysia… and through Steadyaku he was able to feel that connection once more.

Everyone who read and commented and shared his articles, everyone who joined him on this journey, you all became his friends, hanging around the Mamak stall that was Steayaku, sharing news about the state of the country over Teh Tarik into the smallest hours of the night. To everyone who read, commented, shared or messaged him you should know that you brought him happiness to feel that connection to his home again, especially when he became somewhat exiled from the homeland.

In 2023 something surprising happened. Something that I’m not sure if he ever thought would happen again. My father was packing his bags to fly back home. He hadn’t been back for around 15-20 years. One reason he had not flown back was financial, another was a little pesky matter of an arrest warrant due to some of the things he had been writing… But through phone calls, a new administration, contacts, he was able to find a way to return to the country of his birth.

I remember being nervous for him, what if it was a trap. He reassured me that everything had been taken care of. Personally, I feel that even if there was a risk he still would have gone. My father was a risk-taker after all and the chance to go home for a visit was worth the risk… However, I remember the story he told me about what happened when he landed in KL…

Departing from the plane he made his way towards customs where, along with the dense KL heat, he was greeted by the sight of several armed police officers. They introduced themselves and told him they were there to give him an escort. He called me up later that evening and told me it was bizarre but extremely nice to be greeted like that. But when he returned to Australia I asked him if he was nervous when he saw the police waiting for him considering the possibility of the arrest warrant and he said half-jokingly, ‘are you kidding? Of course I was!’

But that was the risk he was willing to take. He loved Malaysia, getting the chance to return is something he was grateful for. Getting the chance to meet everyone, to share stories, to be part of your lives and to invite you into his, it was these connections that made creating Steadyaku worth every late night and sore back.

I remember telling my father about this well known person or that well known person in KL mentioning him in an interview when asked which bloggers they read and my father would always be surprised. I don’t think he ever saw himself as someone part of the zeitgeist of Malaysian politics.

When he passed away and I flew to KL, I met so many people, people who knew him personally, people who knew him through his writing and people who wanted to meet and talk with him. It was touching to see how many people connected to his writing and how many more people connected to the man himself.

 

He loved being back in KL, to feel that energy. He would send me photos of the people he was meeting, of this person's house or the food he was eating and had been craving for years. He loved Malaysia and he loved writing and working towards a Malaysia he dreamt about and hoped for. He was relentless, if he had an idea for a story or project he would want to pursue it. In fact, even on the day he died he was meeting with someone. It was just who he was, he wanted to meet, to connect and discuss. Nothing brought him greater joy than the connections he made with everyone of you.

People may have a different opinion on Steadyaku47. When you write about controversial issues that’s bound to happen. But whether you see his writing as the humble words of a man in a small inner-city apartment trying to enact long lasting political change back in his homeland or as the arrogance of disruptive and distant Zeus recklessly throwing lightning bolts into Malaysian politics from afar, the impact of his writing is the same.

Steadyaku47 did become part of the zeitgeist of Malaysian politics, he initiated discourse and hopefully helped those who wanted change and reform to find strength in their own voice. He created something unique, but it was also something quite simple. Just an idea, just a clipboard with some printing paper and a pen. He was just a man who wanted to write about his country. He was just like you, and just like him, if you want to create change all you have to do is start writing.    

P.S. On behalf of my father I would like to thank everyone who ever called to discuss a story, who offered support, who helped with the laborious technical tasks of the blog, to everyone who read and shared and sent messages, and to everyone in-between, thank-you for being a part of Steadyaku47.

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Dr. Lim Teck Ghee

Paying tribute to Hussein, political analyst Lim Teck Ghee said the former was not only a special friend but also an indomitable fighter for a better Malaysia - whose voice will be missed.

“He was fiercely independent, free-thinking and unafraid.

Hussein wrote perhaps, some of the most biting and critical commentaries on the country, our people and foes and friends that have emerged from the world of political bloggers.

Few if any of the nation's community of political bloggers come close to him in his steadfastness and dedication to an inclusive and progressive Malaysia.

Reading and re-reading his writing is the best way to remember and pay tribute to SteadyAku.”

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IN MEMORIAM OF STEADY-AKU - A NOBLE WORDSMITH FROM MELBOURNE { Anon}

The news of his collapse at Avenue K Mall on 7th February 2024  and subsequent hospitalisation left a void in the hearts of many. In the poetic dance of life, Hussein Abdul Hamid gracefully concluded 

his earthly narrative on Thursday, 5th Shaaban 1445/15th February 2024 at 4.41am. As the dawn unfolded, we reflect on his impactful journey.

Hussein's moniker, Steady-Aku, echoed across the digital landscape, a testament to a blogger who fearlessly navigated the tumultuous seas of political discourse from his Melbourne desk. Born in 1947, he embarked on a timeless journey, leaving behind a legacy of words that stirred hearts, sparked contemplation, and occasionally left us in delightful bewilderment.

His return to Malaysia last year after decades in Australia marked a poignant chapter, perhaps a testament to his sustenance and intention to rest in the embrace of his homeland. As an avid reader of his blog, the realisation that Steady- Aku will cease to write leaves a void in the realm of thought-provoking narratives.

In the tapestry of his blog, Hussein shared, “I started writing about what I saw happening around me. That is how STEADYAKU came about. Come, read what I write. Agree to disagree if you must. Share your thoughts with me.”

Today, we reflect on the unity and kinship he yearned for in Malaysia, as he envisioned a nation embracing diversity.

Hussein, an archetype of an MCKK boy C64, wore the mantle of an agitator with a heart both kind and scarred. His blog posts, a tempest of opinions, resonated with the ascension of a batchmate from the Class of '64 to Malaysia's top leadership, embodying a melodic dance with the passage of time.

On his final post on February 6, 2024, Hussein reflected on the evolving skyline of Kuala Lumpur and the mosaic of cultures defining the city. Amidst political complexities, he found solace in the power held by "we the people" to shape destiny, leaving us with contemplative musings.

As we bid our esteemed storyteller farewell, we honour Steady-Aku not just as a blogger but as a craftsman of tales etched into the digital canvas. His brilliance, like a well-aimed arrow, pierced through the noise of discourse. In the corridors of contemplation, his legacy echoes—a resonant digital legacy that lingers in our hearts.

Rest peacefully, dear brother MCOB. Your return home leaves behind a void, yet your narratives endure. Here's to the storyteller who dared to weave tales that linger, and to a soul that has embarked on a new journey.

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