More than anyone else in Malaysia and Singapore, Said Zahari's name will surely be immortalised as symbolising the struggle for press freedom. The defining moment was, of course, the Utusan Melayu strike of 1961, when he led his colleagues to resist the take over of the newspaper by interests tied to Umno, the ruling party then and now.

The strike was remarkable for many reasons, two of which need special mention. First, it involved an ethnic Malay working community in a country where labour struggles had historically been associated with ethnic Chinese and Indians in capitalist employment.

The strike lasted over a hundred days - impressive by any standards - and marked the end of the honeymoon of organised labour with the post-colonial government. Second, and even more remarkable, the strike was not primarily over the welfare of the workers, but instead, sought to resist the imminent takeover and transformation of the previously independent Malay-language newspaper into an instrument of the ruling party.

Said Zahari was also one of the most prominent victims of repression by Lee Kuan Yew's government in Singapore. He was arrested together with over a hundred others during the republic's 'Operation Cold Storage' in early February 1963.

He remained incarcerated without trial for almost 17 years until he was confined by the authorities to a small island in the narrow Tebrau Straits separating the island republic from Johor in southern peninsular Malaysia.

Throughout this time, his Malaysian-born-wife Salamah suffered great tribulations supporting their family, including their youngest daughter Norlinda, who was born after his arrest.

Said's poems from prison were compiled, edited and published by his closest friend, Usman Awang, with English language translations by another dear friend Dr M K Rajakumar, the last chairman of the Labour Party of Malaya with assistance from Dr Syed Husin Ali, now president of Parti Rakyat Malaysia (PRM).

An inspiration

His poems and Usman's own Salute to Said Zahari were read and recited by thousands of students, activists and sympathisers in Singapore, Malaysia and abroad for years, encouraging struggles by others inspired by Said's own selfless and resolute determination despite his ordeal.

But behind Said Zahari the icon, is Said Zahari the man. His memoirs reveal how a 'good son'- and grandson - grew up to make extraordinary and selfless sacrifices for a better, more just and democratic nation with no thought of personal gain or advantage.

They also reveal Said Zahari for the human being he is. Affable, generous, trusting, loving, humble and all too human, but also principled, defiant and uncompromising when it counted Said's memoirs are not just political, but also personal, candidly sharing reminiscences of a long gone era, without the cosmetic editing 'great men' demand of their biographical narratives.

Born of Javanese parents and a little younger than Lee Kuan Yew and Mahathir Mohamad, he grew up in a rustic Singapore which no longer exists.

His memoirs tell of growing up as a young Muslim-Malay boy, the Japanese Occupation, coming of age, and his early working life in what must surely have been amongst the most exciting working environments in late colonial Malaya - the Utusan Melayu editorial office in Singapore led by Yusof Ishak (later, the first president of Singapore) and A Samad Ismail, the doyen of Malaysian journalism and unofficial patron of the progressive nationalist Malay literary movement, Asas 50 .

Said was then sent to Kuala Lumpur and later covered the historic Baling peace talks, which - he reveals - the Tunku never meant to succeed. He also provides other insights into Tunku's thinking and pre-dispositions.

Banished, detained

To break the Utusan strike in 1961, Said was banished from re-entering Malaya by the Tunku. The following year was no less eventful, as the nationalist Parti Rakyat Brunei (PRB, or the People's Party of Brunei) captured all but one of the elected seats for the local authorities in the colonial sultanate.

At the end of 1962, many PRB leaders were detained or exiled after a failed insurrection which was doomed from the outset. The incident occurred when the newly-elected PRB-dominated council was ignored by the colonial local authorities.

Barely two months later, in early February 1963, Said himself was put into 'cold storage' for 17 years just after he agreed to lead its fraternal party in Singapore, the Parti Rakyat Singapura (PRS). (A fuller account of the larger forces at work in the region at that time can be gleaned from Greg Poulgrain's The Origins of Konfrontasi ).

After such an extraordinary life, the last two decades since his release from detention may seem almost anti-climatic in retrospect. Little comes through of his modest, but hearty and avuncular manner. It says so much of him and so many of his colleagues that they have come out of their protracted experiences of incarceration with so much of their humanity intact, if not enhanced.

I have often wondered whether Said would have made a successful transition from journalism to politics if he had not been so cruelly, cynically and quickly contained on the night of his quiet political appointment.

But the course of subsequent events also suggests that history is on Said's side. Very importantly too, Said's memoirs reveal a complex and polychromatic Left , quite unlike the monolithic image promoted by the powers-that-be and their servants in the Special Branch and the media.

This is evident as he reviews the debates and differences among the Left in Singapore, his friendship with Lim Chin Siong and others, his criticisms of a communist agent's dealings with Lee Kuan Yew, and his Bangkok meeting with Chin Peng, secretary-general of the Communist Party of Malaya.

Generous spirit

Before moving to Kuala Lumpur in the mid-90s he often stayed with me when he was allowed into the country. I remember how some of those who had collaborated for his misery sought to redeem themselves, and marveled at his generosity of spirit.

One can only feel privileged to know him when one contrasts his magnanimity with the petty vindictiveness which characterises so much of our society's modern political and social life.

Although he has said little about the matter, I have also seen how Said has sought - despite his limited means - to try and compensate his family for his involuntary absence. This must surely be one of the most difficult crosses one like him has had to bear. Can one ever compensate? Does one do so? How does one retain a broader perspective in trying to do so?

Completing these memoirs probably helps to exorcise what must surely be several ghosts from the past who continue to haunt one like him. But no one will complain about deliberate silences, about self-censorship, about whitewashing. And in sharing his life, we partake of his humanity and his other cherished values for which we can only thank him.

His is truly a life well-lived. It is a privilege to salute you, Said Zahari.

KS JOMO is a professor of economics at the University of Malaya. He wrote the above as a foreword to the English edition of Said Zahari's political memoirs entitled Dark Clouds . Meniti Lautan Gelora , the Malay-language edition, was launched on last Tuesday. The book has also been translated into Mandarin.