AMINRANT Episode-03: Hampir Maut Menjadi Mangsa Nahas MH17 Ditembak Pengganas 17JULY2014

Original video: https://youtu.be/SbvKIZEQP3s

Other Episodes on #Aminrant Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLwV1_FXIg4BgoGTlQGgeqdNYs2dzr6JMr

Pencerita, Amin, memulakan Episod 3 siri "#Aminrant" dengan suara yang serak kerana demam. Beliau mengimbas kembali kenangan zaman persekolahan selepas UPSR dan mengaitkannya dengan sebuah kisah peribadi yang tragis.

Inti pati utama penceritaan adalah mengenai sahabat baiknya sejak darjah tiga, Muhammad Firdaus Abdul Rahim, yang merupakan pembantu juruterbang (first officer) dalam penerbangan Malaysia Airlines MH17 yang ditembak jatuh di Ukraine pada 17 Julai 2014.

Amin menceritakan bagaimana beliau hampir menaiki penerbangan yang sama. Ketika sedang melanjutkan pelajaran di UK, Firdaus telah menghubunginya melalui Facebook dan mengajaknya untuk pulang ke Malaysia bersama-sama dalam penerbangan yang akan dikendalikannya. Namun, disebabkan jadual mereka tidak selari, Amin terpaksa menaiki penerbangan lain yang lebih awal. Beliau hanya menyedari tragedi tersebut selepas bangun dari tidur akibat jetlag dan mendapati telefonnya dipenuhi mesej daripada rakan-rakan yang risau akan keselamatannya.

Pencerita meluahkan rasa sedih dan terkejut atas kehilangan sahabatnya dan merenung betapa rapuhnya kehidupan. Beliau juga berkongsi kenangan lucu zaman kanak-kanak, di mana pada hari terakhir sekolah, mereka bermain "aci kejar" dan secara berpakat menjadikan Firdaus orang terakhir yang "jadi" untuk "seribu tahun".

Sebagai penutup, Amin menzahirkan rasa syukur kerana mempunyai kenangan dengan Firdaus, seorang sahabat baik yang berusaha untuk berhubung semula selepas sekian lama terpisah, dan mendoakan kesejahteraan arwah sahabatnya.

Video Transkrip:

Uhum. Okay. Hello, hello. Welcome to #Aminrant, episode 3. I've been sick since yesterday, and my voice isn't sexy; it's a struggle. That's why I'm using this fluffy microphone. I was scammed by Shopee; it was supposed to be a "Xiaomi," but there's no brand name. I'm so annoyed; I gave it one star.

Anyway, in the last episode, I talked about my UPSR results. You know how it is—kids comparing themselves to others, feeling a little sad. But I didn't take it personally. If you haven't seen episode two, please go check it out. I still remember the last day of school that year, November 19, 1999. After that, everyone was on to a new millennium.

I'm reminded of a story that's quite personal, one that not many people know about. It was kept private to avoid reporters looking for a hot story. You might remember about 11 years ago, the country was shocked by the Malaysia Airlines MH17 crash. The plane was shot down over eastern Ukraine on its way from Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur. One of the first officers, or co-pilots, on that flight was my dear friend, Muhammad Firdaus Abdul Rahim. We had been friends since primary school.

I was thinking about him after talking about my UPSR results because we shared a connection—we were both orphans. My father passed away earlier, and his father passed away the following year. Firdaus was a classmate of mine in the top class, and he was often bullied by other kids. They would make fun of his name, and his father's name, because kids can be cruel like that when they don't have tablets or digital distractions. I was always nice to him, and I think he remembered that. We were friends for nearly 30 years, from primary school all the way up until just days before the crash.

I was in the UK doing my PhD when he found my contact information through my Facebook page, "Botany Kingdom." We hadn't spoken in about 12 years, not since our PMR exams. He had become a pilot, and I was still studying. We reconnected and chatted. He told me he was passing through London, and he even showed me pictures of him feeding swans at Regent's Park. I told him I knew the place, and we made plans to meet up.

He even asked me to fly back to Malaysia with him on his flight, but my schedule didn't align with his. I had already made other arrangements, and he had to go to Amsterdam first. So we decided to meet in Malaysia instead. I was excited because I was also planning to go back for about three weeks to celebrate Hari Raya. He was already married to a woman named Zarith, and she was pregnant with their first child. We were both really looking forward to it.

Then, the crash happened. The news came out that MH17, the flight he was on, had been shot down. The thought that I could have been on that plane with him—that I had been invited to fly on his flight—was overwhelming. I realized how fragile life is, how close I was to a tragic end. The whole world was talking about it. News about the crash was everywhere—on TV, the radio, and online. I was completely speechless. I had just woken up from jetlag after my own flight, and suddenly, I was getting a flood of messages from friends asking if I was okay. They had seen news about my flight and were worried.

I just went on with my planned trip, but the news was heartbreaking. Firdaus was an orphan, just like me, and I felt for his wife, Zarith, who was now a single mother and a widow with a baby on the way. I wanted to reach out to her, but I decided to keep a low profile. I didn't want any attention, and I didn't think my story would bring my friend back. I just kept my head down and continued my work. To this day, I haven't reached out to her, but I often pray for him and his family. I heard his body was brought back to Teluk Intan, Perak, to be buried.

This whole experience made me realize how a single moment can change everything. We are always on the edge, and life is a 50/50 chance. It's a miracle I'm still here. Firdaus was a good friend and a brilliant student, a 5A student in UPSR, of course, because only a bright kid could become a pilot. He was a kind person, too. It was him who made the effort to reconnect with me after so many years. He was one of those rare friends who valued our friendship enough to make that effort.

I have one final, funny memory of Firdaus from our primary school days. On the last day of school, my friends and I decided to play a game of tag. The person who was "it" when the final bell rang would be "it" for a thousand years because we wouldn't see each other again until the new millennium. We had a secret agreement among the "gangsters" to make sure Firdaus was the one who would be "it." He was a target because of his sweet personality. Firdaus, I'm so sorry, and I hope you're laughing about this in heaven. When we meet again, I promise I'll be "it" so you can finally be free. And I'll make sure to tag those two "Farid" kids who made fun of you all the time.

Firdaus's passing was a painful reminder of the fleeting nature of life, but I am grateful for the good memories we shared. He was a great friend, and I'm certain that good people like him are in a better place. The moral of the story is that true friends are rare, and finding someone who makes an effort to reconnect after years apart is truly special. I'll always cherish our friendship.

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