Please click on our great Flag for Pak Vic’s thoughts on the terrible 9/11 tragedy.

You are visitor number       (since May 1, 1999)

A reflection of my teachers in life
by Pak Vic de Thouars

       A person lives and a person passes on, relatively an average of 70 years old nowadays.  Sometimes the little things matter, and sometimes people forget who actually made impact on peoples lives. In the martial arts world as of today, and especially here in the USA, the word Serak has been synonymous with either Paul an older brother, or myself, ever since 1960 some forty-three years ago.

Myself, I would like to share these teachers and mentors that made a mark in my life.A reflection of my teachers in life.

      (1) Suzanne de Vries de Thouars, now here is one for the books, and no, certainly not a mother’s syndrome, in essence to me, my mother Suzanne de Vries de Thouars was my first teacher in life.  Many times I remember the many things she taught me during WWII.  I was a very small boy, and yes, I remember many things that I still see before me.

      What I remember the most is how protective she was during those years, and although I really never knew my oldest brother, just too small and did not make a hard impression other then fleeting moments that came up. As I keep everything on record, these are the letters from him to my mother and father, and at points, I read an account that is the same point that comes in front of my eyes.  Trauma in the unknown and is hidden still in my mind that does not come out, until I read some of the accounts.

      Understanding becomes clear, in the years from 1947 through 1960, our family somewhat comes to a displacement with the passing of our father, Henry Alexandre de Thouars on April 14, 1961 in the early morning in Azusa, California.   Suzanne made much of the impact in the martial arts for all of her sons, credits were credit is due in this department.  If it was not for her survival instinct during WWII, none of her four sons, Maurice in Holland, and Paul, Willem and Victor would be alive as of today, and for a certain I would not be writing this material, that is a hard fact.  The letters from my Older Brother Henry from 1940 to 1946 makes me come to tears, for he knew our mother from the years before my recognition and awareness became stronger.  Although our Mother has since passed on September 24, 1982, she is still very much alive to me and lives in me and all of her teachings.

       (2) Henry Alexandre de Thouars, my father and second teacher.  I did not get to know him till right after WWII when my mother and her four sons, Maurice, Paul, Willem and Victor went to Siam, now known as Thailand, the year was 1945/1946.   My father was interned by the Japanese and transported from Java to Siam to a camp called Nho-Kha- Pha-Thon. As small as I was, I was wondering why this strange man was sleeping with my mother, so I asked for a photograph of my father from my mother and compared the likeness.  Remember, much trauma has existed for all concerned during those terrible years.  Sometimes it is called Post Syndrome High Stress for most of the Dutch Indo’s and their sons and daughters.  My loving father took very much in with his family, for not seeing his family for over four years with always the fear and trauma from being executed by the Japanese conquerors at the time.

      What a relief to many concerned, so we spent a short time in Siam, traveled to Holland, and then the horrible news when we were in the Hague in 1947 with the news that our oldest Brother Henry Alexandre Jr. Was Killed.  He was serving in the Dutch armed forces. Especially our mother and of course myself, for it would have been the first time in my years of recognition to meet my oldest brother, an extremely hard shock for us all, and mostly our mother. More so added of the Post Syndrome Stress.  I started to know my father more so when he started to teach me, I was six years old.  Algebra, Geometry, Math, Language, French, Chinese, and of course, Chess. In all the years I was able to overcome my father four times in Chess and three of those occasions did not count.  Our father had the ability to write and speak eight different languages. Of course French was his main language he loved.  He grew up in his young years in Marseille, a city located in south of France.  My father as well as my mother taught me to look beyond the box that I was living in.  One of the main ingredients my father taught me was to record everything down.  Although my father himself was not involved too much into the martial arts world, he supported all of his sons in that endeavor. But………and a big one at that, his explanation to me in a physics aspects was very uncanny, I use to ask him as a source why things would work. 

      To my father a Scientist and Mathematician, it was black or white, and many times he would tell me, “This is why it works, by the structure, the way a human movesâ€?.  You know my father was not a hunter nor did he sought out to prove who he was to others, he knew who he was, a idea that I learned from him, and hope to continue that trend.  One day in the field when he was inspecting sugar fields, a very huge Wild Boar was terrorizing the Sugar fields, and everyone was getting out of dodge.  He calmly pulled out his “Lee Enfieldâ€? Carbine and delivered one shot to kill the wild boar. 

      In my book, Traditions, History I will record more of the accounts of other Dutch Indo’s who lived through the traumatic years of WWII.  My father passed away on April 14, 1961 in the early morning in Azusa, California.  He too is alive and well in me, and I make his teachings come alive the way I teach my martial arts.  Yes, Henry Alexandre de Thouars, you are alive.  You shall also live in the hearts of all my friends and students.

       (3) Uncle Eddie de Vries, my third teacher and the year 1947/1948.  The year was a short time period, but a hard year for me, and sometimes you like to forget what happened, because it can shake a foundation of the heart.  Well, as you can remember these are very impressionable years in my life.  Let me step back before I get to Uncle Ed de Vries. Our life on Sragi, a sugar plantation, was really getting beleaguered with the Terrorist Islam Group the Darul Islam, yes, so 911 here in the States it is not a surprise what that criminal element can produce. 

      Is it a Trauma for us right after WWII and the Japanese time period, three guesses and the fist two do not count.  So our parents, to make sure for our safety, sent us Children to live with Uncle Ed, Paul, Willem and Vic, Maurice joined us later in the year.  In the short time we were in his house, Uncle Ed and Aunt Marie showed us and tried to be a Father and Mother to us in those difficult years. Loved to go with Uncle Ed, especially going to get his pension from an office located in Downtown Bandung.  I felt very special, for we would go to a street restaurant and eat meatball soup and rice.  Remember food in those years were not plentiful to be found, still the after effect of WWII. 

      So we were riding in a Becak, a three-wheeled peddled Taxi Cab, and we were going home.  Some person in the alley that the Becak was going through tried to Rob my Uncle Eddie, well what seems almost endless, was really only to be counted in Seconds.  I guess the robber picked on the wrong man to rob, I saw Uncle Eddie’s tenacity and fierce demeanor, as I never seen in a human.  In all honesty I believe that the Peddle Cab driver was involved with it all.  Gosh, with pride and still tears in my eyes as of today, that is my Uncle.  Uncle Ed showed me in how to plant tomatoes, and peanuts, and how to work with a file and hacksaw to make blades.  He showed me how to make bamboo swords and sticks, taught me in how to do fencing.  Getting smacked on the knuckles still has some experiences.  Now our parents joined us later that year in Bandung, and our family dispersed again.  Paul and Maurice went to New Guinea and my parents and Willem and myself traveled eastward to the last stop of my youth, the sugar plantation of Pradjekan.

      Years later in Holland, Uncle Ed came to visit us in Wormer, I was going to Soccer practice in Wormerveer, the week before I was recruited to play Soccer, and to play for the Junior Club there.  Of course when I saw my Uncle Ed, soccer that week was not in my plans, he stayed a short four days with us.  I miss this teacher a lot, he passed on and is buried in Holland, and yes he is alive as of today as I write this account down, his teachings are and will be alive in all the hearts of whomever I teach, and myself.  Yes Eddie de Vries, you are my third teacher in my life.

       (4) Pak Tisari Mardjoeki, my fourth teacher.  Who was this unlikely man?  He was in charge of security at the Sugar Plantation called Pradjekan. If anyone should happen to travel to that region of the world, anyone there should know that family, especially from the time period that I was there, from 1948 till 1954.  Pak Tisari built most of the furniture for our house then, and silverware, pots, pans, and cooking woks, etc.  What else was this so ever humble man, he was also as a second father to me during those years.  He taught me how to string a bow, make blowguns and kerosene cannons made out of big Bamboo diameter stocks.

      He also introduced me to hunting and making snares to catch small game, remember this family also shared their house and food with me, although they were not rich or wealthy.  The family was rich in giving; his son Dhaka of course at the time was my friend. His father Pak Tisari also introduced us to Sera.  In all honesty, all was very much Greek to me, certainly a big copycat in those early years.  My father deciphered my own notes in what in the dickens I was doing. 

      My mother used to hire other Silat teachers that came to our house, of course Willem and myself debunked these folks; you know we learned early on to really look at folks.  One day a Silat Magician came to the Village, and he having the ability to eat glass and needles and the ability to take a lot of pain astounded me.  This uncanny Charlatan also taught me how to, so-called, control teachers (secondary School), well at least that is what he made me to believe, I was about nine years old.  Well he wrote on a piece of paper (6x8inches) some incantations, and the next day in school before I would pass over the threshold I would fold the paper and swallow the folded paper, and then scrape my right foot three times over the mat and say these words; “bismelah, ayoh ayoh saya menangâ€? well of course I just about choked on the paper.  So much for the Silat magic and BS.  Pak Tisari had gotten news from my experience in Silat magic, and became very much upset at the older adult in treachery of teaching children magical silat that has no place in our world.   To my surprise that same evening, I saw this Charlatan at the house of Pak Tisari Mardjoeki getting a few lessons in reality.  Days later Pak Tisari took me under his wing in teaching me the difference of what the reality is of those who make a mockery of an art and real traditions.  Pak Tisari, founder of Soempat, a second father to me, a teacher in my life.  He taught in how to build on information gained from research. Bapak Tisari Mardjoeki, he definitely lives as of today in front of me, he lives in the way I teach my Sera, and he will stay alive as of today within the hearts of all of my students.

       (5) Bo Han Ma, my fifth teacher, during the years of 1948 –1954.  He owned a dry goods store located on the main street that ran through the Sugar Plantation of Pradjekan.  You know, the whole family of Bo Han was so giving, and really as family they followed the pattern of the man.  In essence a very impressionable man he was, his son my friend Bo Han jr. really was instrumental in the growing friendship between the families.  His mother taught my mother how to make noodles, and you guessed it, we had noodles instead of rice for weeks. Now, almost every day in the inner courtyard, he would do these strangest movements, and I use to say to Bo Han, “what is your father doing?â€? 

      The answer was, Kuntao, which sounded more Greek to me, so in being there, us young men would copy what the folks were doing.  One day he called us in front of all of his seniors, Dhaka, myself, Bo Han, Bambang, to do it in the open instead of from behind the short wall. Man was I scared, as all four of us were.  Now we had to do a form in front of everybody, Oh could have done it that time, but I was frozen and my mouth moved, with no sound.  A friendly Smile and a rub over my back and a gesture to sit with all the seniors for a lunch break did wonders to place us kids at ease.  We ate rice, Cap Cai (Tjap Tjai) and Fui Young Hai, a sort of Chop Suey and Egg Fu Yung.  You know these were fun years in my life; Bo Han senior taught us the Kuntao, and also how to make Tofu and Tempe.

      Political agenda’s were pushed off early who had the better art from these grown-ups, although Pak Tisari and Bo Han Sr. were very good friends, so sometimes hard to distinguish when these folks were joking or were serious.  To me I liked both the Sera from Pak Tisari and the Kuntao from Bo Han father.  But in all honesty, the Sera was more within my structure.  I remember one day, after I helped him make the Tofu, there were big stone mills with handles that you would push for the stone mill to go in circles and then the Soy Beans were added to the top.  We went to the back of his house, behind the store we have never been, and goodness gracious it was like a training ground, filled with punching bags, wooden trunks to beat on, and with these he showed us the training.  After the training he showed us how to make incense.  Yes, Bo Han Senior you too cannot just be wiped out of my heart and mind, for you are a teacher and certainly my fifth teacher, and live today in me, and you shall never be forgotten.  Bo Han Senior passed away from Sclerosis of the liver in 1953, a shock to his family, and certainly to me that life is very short, and a person should know his/her limitations.

       (6) John de Vries, I consider him my sixth teacher in Life, not so much in the martial arts, although he did much of deciphering many notes and Ideas.  We came to Holland in September 25, 1954 on my birthday.  My life almost came to a halt, and would not even exist, and the face of Sera in the US would have had a very different look, and that is also a fact.  Well, the English introduced traffic to be riding on the left side, so all of Indonesia had left hand traffic. 

      Holland however has right hand traffic, and you guessed it I drove my bicycle on the left side.  Then it dawned on me, O my goodness, we have right hand traffic, and I crossed the street to drive on the correct side.  Did not notice any traffic at all, the car however was just on the other side of the hill, and wham!  The car was driving way to fast, car hit me on the backside ways, strange never touched me.  I ended up on the grass still on my bike with a busted rear wheel.  The car well, the driver drove it through a pole, wiped out the electric for the day.  Not my time I guess. 

      We moved to Amsterdam, and I visited my uncle John, he lived two blocks from the Catholic school and where the brothers (Catholic Monks) lived and worked, and I attended.

      Much to my delight my uncles deciphered much of my notations and where they all would fit.  In essence my learning from him was the massive notes I had to be deciphered.  Just about two years later, Paul came from New Guinea, and I attended the workout classes too.  Not for long at all at the time, somewhat uncomfortable because Paul and his friend ter Muelen were taking lots of time from my Uncle John. 

      So, I bowed out of that class and did not take any classes from Uncle John at all till we lived in Wormer, and had my own transportation with my Ducati motorbike. Much I learned from the much-needed understanding for me from much of the notes earlier from Pak Tisari.  It is so uncanny, what a great teacher he was, just from a particular word he could decipher what was needed. 

      Yes, Uncle John de Vries, not so much as the physical aspect of what Sera is, but a more important role he had in my life and unlocking writings that absolutely made no sense to me.  Uncle John de Vries teacher of life number six, he passed on in 1972, but yes he is very much alive, and his inspiration is in the teachings, for they come alive in the students I teach and can readily be seen.

       (7) Brother Augustine, a Catholic Brother/Monk who taught me more than Catechism and Theology or Doctrine set forth by the church for sure.  He was a great writer, and taught me to look ahead, and never to look back, to go on with life and never to ponder on things you could not do anything about.  He said one time during our get together for Theology, look soon we would no longer have many people attending church.

      Of course at the times as a devout Catholic, found it a bit strange.  He said, no Victor the world as you know today, will be no longer here in ten years in how people will feel about the Catholic Church, you know he was right, for we changed and religion was not a priority in our lives.  He taught me in how to paint, especially watercolors, to work with media that is sometimes not easy.   O he knew that I did martial arts, so he shared some wrestling with me.  He liked the Silat structure I showed him of the Elephant Trunk Structure that is found in the Pantjar Platform.

      He earnestly believed that wherever a human is, freedom of choice would be the ultimate gift, and he showed me the book he wrote.  Looked like a children’s book for 8 to 12 year olds.  It was a book about the Children in Holland, and their Trauma during WWII.  Then without his book he taught me much about the human, an eye opener for me. He shared with me that all humans are the same no matter where one came from, and the lucky ones could express their true freedom and that not one man makes a circle, but that people make an organization.  Yes Brother Augustine my Seventh teacher.

       (8) Sensei Yamashita, my eighth teacher who worked out with me in Judo and my real first lesson in fencing.  Many times, I really did not like his teaching methods but you know in reality it does not matter.  Regardless of the fact in how, I still recognize he offered me the knowledge. In a reencounter with memory, he was a great Judoka, who had the ‘rockem-Sockem’ attitude in playing on the mat.

      In a hard beat he would do the Cross Gi choke to make you pass out, and good thing he also brought one back to the reality world.  Sensei was instrumental in the development of the system I founded of Tongkat.  On the mat, he gave no inch and expected none in return, he use to dig his knuckles into my top edge of my Gi, and jerked me in either the 10^th or 8^th hip throw.  After many hard drops, well you are supposed to break fall the throw, if the trainer would allow it.  But he used to pile drive me into the ground, and shake his head, and would say wake up Victor.

      Somewhere in the back of my mind, you just do not counter your teacher and be a good Uke. After six or seven hard drops in one of the training sessions, I had no intention to be pile driven on the mat again. So, when he dropped and made the turn to do the 10^th on me, that is were you grab the Gi hard and bring either the left or right leg between the other practitioner and make a 180 hard turn and lift the other practioner of the ground, I placed my hand on his thigh as a counter, and did Sambut 10 (technique 10) on him. 

      With the one difference, I did not slam him on the ground, for the technique was never designed to let an opponent fall out with a break fall.  Sensei smiled as he picked himself of the ground and said, ah Victor you finely have learned a lesson.  Yes a valuable lesson that was, never give an Inch and don’t expect one. Of course not all of the training days had that value of understanding, for respect of the teacher is one of the priorities, unless the lesson is geared toward a friendly match.  In the Kendo fencing, well that is another account I will cover in a book soon to be out.  Did I reach any hard ranking, No, my goal was to learn Judo, Sensei Yamashita my eight teacher a good one at that.

       (9) Jan van der Laan, for a very short time period this man gave me the knowledge of drawing and paintings, sculpturing.  He showed me how to draw an enlargement of a small image on a photograph to a larger image.  Once I caught on to the technique, I offered special drawings and enlargements at the time in the days I was in Wormer. 

      Ah some of the business spirit and interest, many guys came and gave me orders to either draw them or their girl friends.  In essence I became fairly decent at it, word of mouth was and is the best advertisement, I did that till the very last week before we immigrated to the US.  Jan van der Laan my ninth teacher.

       (10) Meneer Zeeman, well what is there to say about this one brilliant teacher. I remember he was instrumental in having the classes visit the world fair in Bruxels, in 1958.  In my first encounter with him in learning the Mechanical Engineering trade, in Europe and in those days was brutal, grunt work. It was always believed then that you get your hands dirty before you have the privilege to do any kind of engineering studies.

      Could not get rid of this teacher (Said in care) in many of the learning facilities, on Saturday morning, or the additional evening classes for engineering, Meneer Zeeman would be one of the teachers.  His classical teaching method, “Look it upâ€?, so the work to learn from him was twice as hard.  You know, the knowledge stuck.  I wrote the book “Serak the Tsunamiâ€?, and in the Sambut structure phase I added the physics to it.  Much understood why I did that. “Look it upâ€?.  Just kidding of course, no it was to share the awesome structure Sera has in relation to base, angle and leverage and the power that could be generated by certain structures. Mr. Zeeman was fanatical about, not to accept any structure blindly with the material in research, of the why.  Sometimes he would teach in such a way that engineering is just a structure of common sense without formulas.  He used a lot of parables in his teachings, and never accepted mathematics as the ultimate answer in any calculations.  Here is one of the math structures that can keep many folks busy. Never be sure of adding or multiplications, it is how you construct a project that can leave you with the ultimate confusion.  For kids? Perhaps.

      Three people go and purchase a Community item for 30 dollars; each person lays out 10 dollars.  The storeowner gives the clerk 5 dollars back in return as a discount.  The unscrupulous clerk keeps two dollars and gives each person one dollar back.

So now in reality each person has paid how much for the community item, nine dollars right?  So, 3 X 9 is 27, and the 2 dollars that the clerk keeps is 29.  What happen to the other dollar that makes it 30, and if you keep expounding on the latter of multiplication it stays a mystery.

      So Mr. Zeeman’s point was, never accept the seemingly easy answer in anything, for there is always a catch to it. Yes, to you Mr. Zeeman the honor of my 10^th teacher in my life.

       (11) Willem de Thouars, now here is a bowl of cereal in my life, I grew up with this man. As radical and sane as brothers ever could be, we lived in the Traumatic years, the Post Syndrome stress from starting life five times over from WWII.  Somehow the Dutch Indo the short-lived race soon not to be.  After our passing, no more Dutch Indo’s for we are the last.  My first teacher in life Suzanne de Vries de Thouars pretty much kept things on a decent level, for it related to, you mom saved our lives during some horrible years of hard trauma and hunger that was more then a normal human can bear. 

      So in growing up on Java, Willem was my protector, and learned from an older brother how to fight.  Now forget naming any style or system, no it was to fight.  I am speaking of the Java and Holland years.  He likes Chinese Kuntao more and I like Silat Sera more, has nothing to do with simply fighting opponents. 

      In all the likeness, in what you really could not do but do anyway, these folks would fall in the same pattern and demeanors in structure, hyper and fast. My Grandfather, Uncle Vent and Willem. Although MY grandfather Johan would be the tallest of the three, second would be Willem then Uncle Vent.  Like my Grandfather this guy likes the adventure spirit and joins the Merchant Marines, and travels all over the place, always seeking adventures when the weather is way to calm for him.  Willem a man that likes to research life from a different prospective.

      Willem helped to stay focus on many things, certainly during the Trauma years to keep his little brother busy in search for information.  Story telling of Cowboys and Indians, Errol Flynn, and Dracula sure kept me on the edge of my Tieker (Bamboo mat).  Yes, my bowl of cereal in life, Willem my eleventh teacher.

       (12) Paul de Thouars, now here is a hornet’s nest, just kidding of course. I am speaking of the Java and Holland years.  He showed more than what it is to be a brother, and even for years here in the United States we had the same platform in the martial arts, namely Sera a common denominator.  In growing up, certainly showed his younger brother how to simply fight.  In essence in his training years, I was his first real training dummy and guinea pig for years.  Falling on concrete from the techniques just plainly hurts, did not mind really, a learning research quest was more of the keynote. Again, forget the name or style; it was just Sera or Paul slapping me around.  You can learn a lot more so from being thrown and experiments.  In essence Paul made the founder proud and Pak Sera was alive and well, just ask me, I was the one on the ground all the time.

      The years apart in age really has a greater impact in how to perceive things in life.  Paul went through more so with the Post Syndrome Stress from WWII.  What you read in History on Java, Paul was part of that more so.  What do I mean, well think of this, WWII ends, the Indonesian seek revenge on anything they can get a hold of.  These so-called Freedom fighters (Cowards) take it out on children from 13 years and up.  Now Paul at the end of 1945 was about 15 years old, so he was picked up, dragged by these SOB’s Cowards to Jakarta and imprisoned.  Now the letters from my oldest Brother makes this more real, letters from 1945 till his being shot during the months of 1947 his last letter to my parents may have been in April or May.

      In the planned Museum in Riverside, these letters will bring much to light, also how we lived in memory, martial arts, Silat, Kuntao, the good and the bad living conditions.  Paul, Maurice and Henry our oldest brother was Part of that history.  Reading these letters is very, very difficult at times, and become extremely down in heart, Spirit even after so many years and hard tears come down, for it bring in a memory of mans inhumane action toward a other human.  No these letters are for everyone to read of Silat records, military, in the open, for it also serves as a hard reminder of not to forget WWII and what not to do and learn from that. Yes, for a fact, Paul an older family member, a teacher of life in my past.

       Just as this worthy note, my other older family member, Maurice Alexandre Francois de Thouars, I have never been close nor really gotten to know him, and that is the simple truth.  Yes he is my brother, years apart was greater then a decade.  He too suffered the Trauma of WWII and the act of the Freedom Fighters and was incarcerated by these Cowards.  He too was part of that written record and History, fact.

      In my starting recognition years, I remember him in Bandung for a very short time, and then he left to New Guinea.  Both him and Paul worked for the LTD, a military branch that hires civilians to do work, and in essence get inducted in the military if you wish it or not.  So much for freedom of Choice hey.  There was none.  Maurice twice served in the Korean War; I did not see Maurice after many years until we came to Holland in 1954.  So talking of displacement of family.  He was not allowed to immigrate with us to the US because some Government Idiot thought he was a communist. 

      In years apart as a family, a short time of seeing him in Bandung, maybe four months, and no time at all when we were in East Java in Pradjekan, my parents never got any letters or any kind of signs whether he was alive or dead, only one telegram just before we left Indonesia that he would meet us in Amsterdam.  He never lived long with us at all in Wormer, and then he lived away from us again.  Even when I had my Computer Business in Holland, I saw him twice.  In the nineties he even came to the US to do a couple of seminars, 1993 was the very last year the four brothers de Thouars were together, during a seminar that was started by Ustad Dan Inosanto.  Maurice gave me information to write his memoirs, and I will soon do that in the near future, a combination of Maurice and Henry our eldest brother.  A book called “The passing of yearsâ€?.  

In the US of A:

Note these folks I learned from;         
Peter Katz; Fencing, Epée and Foil
Dan Predovich; Guns and how to shoot accurate
Charles Blome; Guns and Shotguns
Chas Clements; Leatherworks
Robert Ragland; Golf
Stacy Hart; Golf
Scott Hart; Golf

These folks gave the meaning to what the United States is:

Calvin Kelly; Former USMC, how to remember
Gunnery Pate; Former USMC, Pride
Ron Hill; Former USMC, Heart, Pride

Current person learning from for just the simple tenacity:
Major Robert Custer; Former USMC to have heart and pride 

My teachers in my life today are my Students and friends - To lead is to learn in how to serve first

My wife Jane and the students and friends of the International VDT Academy, they give me the purpose never to give up in whatever I am doing, for they are all my graceful teachers.

Yes, not one single human can hold any honors to make up the organization of life.

We are just human, that rents space for brief moments on where we live, for we all breathe the same air, friend and foe alike. Life is so short, so we hope we can make the best in the years of our visit in what we call “Life�.

 To all my thank you, my life has been richer in knowing you and it is my honor

 Pak Vic