When Heaven's a blanket!

I was angry with my daughter, Yi Wen, the other day. Her A-Levels was approaching and I see her playing Sims on her computer for days! And I did not know if she had already started on her university applications; or at got in touch with her teachers who are suppose to write her evaluation reports for the Universities she intends to apply for. And the list goes on....

When I was her age, I was very eager to secure a place in the university and I would make doubly sure I make the deadlines. But of course, I did not apply for universities out of the country.

I must say, applying to the Ivy-league Us in the States is rather daunting. She has done wonderfully well so far: got perfect scores for her SAT Reasoning & Verbal; as well as for her subject SAT (Physics 800/800; Chemistry 790/800; and Maths II 800/800). There are loads of forms to fill in; evaluator reports to obtain; and of course essays to write. Most of these universities have deadlines like Dec 1; meaning she needs to start her application process now. We would be overseas from 25 Nov - mid Dec; making it almost impossible to do much those few weeks...

So, I was nagging her for her apparent inaction. I told her that I did not procrastinate when I was young on major issues such as this.

The only things I do procrastinate are household chores that I hate like: collecting the clothes from the clothesline; ironing; washing my school shoes, etc. And for these, Ma would censure me with her favourite scolding: "When the Heavens should fall on your head; you would look up and wrap it around you as if it's your blanket!"

Yi Wen looked up at me and said; " That's cool!".

So, what can I say, huh?

Hand-cut Noodles & Chilli Padi

Yesterday, I ordered a plate of hand-cut noodles fried with pepper beef at a Chinese restaurant. When the plate of noodles arrive, I recognise it instantly as a dish we used to eat when we were children--remember DaoMaQie (literally means Cut-with- Knife, in Hakka). The closest equivalent of this dish is perhaps the Shanxi DaoXiaoMian.

I think I have not been fair to Ah Po as I've not said much about some of the things she did well. While Ah Po did not really have much culinary skills to boast of, she did make good DaoMaQie.

Ah Po used flour, water, salt and egg perhaps to make a sizable chunk of well-kneaded dough. She then rolled the dough into a flat rectangular shape with a bottle (no rolling pins those days); then cut ot into strips of noodles. Isn't that how pasta is made as well?

To cook the noodles, Ah Po threw them into a vat of boiling water and quickly take them out to cool. The result is chewy, chunky pieces of noodles. Our home version of DaoMaQie is eaten with a soup made out of fried enchovies (ikan bilis)and a kind of basil-like leaves (don't remember the name of this vegetable, but we used to grow them in our garden. The leaves are plucked from their thorny stems to be eaten). While we don't eat DaoMaQie much, it was like a treat for us when Ah Po made them each time.

I remember my first introduction to chilli padi. Chilli Padi is a small and very hot chilli, probably of the species called african birdseye or African devil. The hotness is about 100,000 - 200,000 Scoville heat units. The ordinary Jalapeño chilli that we used for everyday cooking is 2,500 - 8,000 on the scoville scale. So chilli padi is about 50 times hotter!

We were eating DaoMaQie in Ah Po's vegetable farm house in the village. Ah Po brought out a bottle of pickled chillis.

"It's very hot! Be careful," she cautioned.

I took one look at the bottle and muttered to myself, " How can it be so hot? It's so tiny!".

The next moment, I took a whole chilli and put it in my mouth, defying Ah po's well-intentioned advice.

I felt fire in my mouth; my eyes smart and tears started to roll down involuntarily. I thought smoke came out of my ears as well. Ah Po and aunt Yoke Foong laughed out loud.

I spat the chilli padi out and quickly washed my mouth with gulps of cold water. Then I continued to eat DaoMaQie quietly. It was delicious as always!

Whoever heard of Turducken?

It's the first time I come across this dish from a book titled " It must've been something that I ate" by food critic Jeffrey Steingarten. A Tur-duck-en takes a chicken, duck and a turkey; debone them and stuff a chicken into the duck and then the duck into the turkey. Neat, eh?

You see, I've just read about the dish; not tasted it. And I think I probably won't ever. Can't fancy myself deboning a chicken; much less a duck and a TURKEY! And then to stuff them one inside the other. It'd probably take me 3 days.

But this dish reminded me of a song I have often sang to my kids. It goes like this:

There was an old woman who swallowed a fly;
She swallowed a fly, She swallowed a fly;
I think she'd die.

There was an old woman who swallowed a spider;
She followed a spider to catch the fly;
She swallowed a fly, She swallowed a fly;
I think she'd die.

Then repeat the song with : swallowed a cat to catch the spider; swallowed a dog to catch the cat; ending ridiculously with swallowed a horse to swallow the dog....and Of course she's dead.

Always makes my kids laugh and to stop them from opening their mouths for a while...

And the TURKEY always reminds me of Pa slaughtering the turkey we reared in Jalan Siputeh. Pa sat on the turkey to kill it. The bird is so large and I can't figure out how pa had the courage to do that.

But of course, we had a nice turkey dish after that. Ma cooked it chinese style with golden needles, red dates, cinamon, five-spiced powder, etc. The bird was stewed to perfection and that lasted us for lunch and dinner as well.

Ah...those wonderful days when meals are prepared for me.

Legend of Chang'e aka Lady on the Moon

The Mid-Autumn Festival, as its name implies, is celebrated on the fifteenth day of the eighth moon, around the time of the autumn equinox. Many simply referred to it as the "Fifteenth of the Eighth Moon".

In the Western calendar, the day of the festival usually occurs sometime between the second week of September and the second week of October.

In 2005, the festival falls on 18th September.

The most famous legend of the Mid-Autumn festival tells of how a godess Chang'e ascended to the moon. Here, I shall relate it Kean Wah's style.

A long, long time ago, a terrible drought plagued the earth. Ten suns burned fiercely in the sky like smoldering volcanoes.

KW: Argh...the heat is killing all of us. Where's the 7 Up, Sprite, Coca-Cola? OMG, look! Ten huge balls of fire in the sky? We need ice...

The trees and grass were scorched. The land was cracked and parched, and rivers ran dry. Many people died of hunger and thirst.

KW: Urgh..No plants, No photosynthesis, No food, No CHICKEN? Are we going to explode?

The King of Heaven sent Hou Yi down to the earth to help. When Hou Yi arrived, he took out his red bow and white arrows and shot down nine suns one after another.

KW: Ten minus nine equals...(counting fingers)... one. That's Good.

The weather immediately turned cooler. Heavy rains filled the rivers with fresh water and the grass and trees turned green. Life had been restored and humanity was saved.

KW: Hurray! Good for you Hou Yi or you'll definitely lose your head!

One day, a charming young woman, Chang'e makes her way home from a stream, holding a bamboo container. A young man comes forward, asking for a drink. Chang'e realizes that he is Hou Yi and invites him to drink.

KW: I bet it is not iced water.

Chang'e plucks a beautiful flower and gives it to Hou Yi. Hou Yi, in turn, selects a beautiful silver fox fur as his gift for her. They fell in love and soon got married.

KW: Boring!

As mortals, our lives will end one day. So there is no chance of living happily ever after. Hou Yi decides to look for an elixir of life that would make Chang'e and him live forever. He goes to the Kunlun Mountains where the Western Queen Mother lives.

KW: What? Live forever? Don't lie.....

The Western Queen Mother rewards Hou Yi with the elixir, a fine powder made from kernels of fruit from the tree of eternity.

"If you and your wife share the elixir, you will both enjoy eternal life. But if only one of you takes it, then only one of you will ascend to Heaven and become immortal," the Queen Mother warns Hou Yi.

KW: Huh, I know there must always be a catch! The Queen Mother, is she some kind of witch?

Hou Yi returns home and tells his wife all that has happened and they decide to drink the elixir together on the 15th day of the eighth lunar month when the moon is full and bright.

KW: Why wait? Are they out of their mind?

A wicked and merciless man named Feng Meng hears about their plan. He wishes to kill Hou Yi so that he can drink the elixir himeslf and become immortal.

KW: Of course, there must be a villain. I wonder if he's as cool as Dr No?

One day,when Hou Yi was on his way home from hunting, Feng Meng kills him. He then ran to Hou Yi's home and forced Chang'e to give him the elixir.

KW: Hou Yi is a fool. Maybe, he deserves to die.

Without hesitating, Chang'e picks up the elixir and drinks it all.

KW: Wow, brave lady. What if it's poison?

Soon the elixir begins to take effect and Chang'e feels herself being lifted towards Heaven. Chang'e decides to live on the moon because it is nearest to the earth.

There she lives a simple and contented life.

KW: Distance of Earth from moon is 384403 km. That's going from KL to Singapore and back about 650 times. Is that right , mum?

Mum: Er.... Check with Dad!

Mid-Autumn Festival is here again

Last weekend, I bought some mooncakes home. Other than my son, none of my other kids were enthused by my acquisition of these traditional goodies. And these were not just ordinary mooncakes--they are modern-day mooncakes that I bought them from Raffles Hotel. These were snow-skinned (ping pei) with fanciful and special filling like Cognac or Mocca. They taste really good!

I have fond memories of the mooncake festival. When we were kids, eating mooncakes was a treat we all looked forward to. Dad used to buy these from the sundry shop and the mooncakes were wrapped simply in pink glazed paper. No fanciful fillings either--just the basic traditional lotus seeds (lin yong), red bean (tau sa), or lotus seeds with duck egg yolks.

I remember dad coming home, beaming a very broad smile, proud of being able to give us a special treat. And we stood in awe and excitement as he revealed the mooncakes and our lanterns (tung long). Ours were simple paper japanese lanterns; but during my brothers' (Tzong Ying and Tzong Meng) time; they had more fanciful ones. Theirs were made of bamboo frames wrapped in colourful transparent paper; and came in fanciful shapes such as butterflies, rabbits, aeroplanes, etc.

With lanterns and candles in hand, we eagerly awaited nightfall so we could wander around the compound around the teachers' quarters with our friends and neighbours. Carrying lit lanterns, we would shout in a chorus: "Tung Long, Tung Long...". It was fun! The full moon looked so round and beautiful.

Today, I wonder how many children know the legends behind the mooncake festival. For my kids, nephews and nieces, I would venture to tell the stories here.

Ten Sen in My Pocket

When I went to primary school, I received ten sen as pocket money a day. But ma knew it was not quite enough. So, she cooked rice early in the morning and packed it for us as lunch in school. We brought along a bottle of water so there was really no need to spend.

I used to be the earliest to arrive at school. The reason was that my neighbour was a school bus driver and we took his bus to school--his first trip started at 5:30 A.M. We addressed the bus driver as Kim Seng Shu (shu = uncle). In fact, all the Convent girls residing in Jln Siputeh took Kim Seng's mini van to school.

It would be about around 6:15a.m. or so when we reach school. And having nothing much to do--none of my classmates would get to school that early--I'd start eating my 'lunch' and finished it. It was warm and delicious, but when recess time came, I'd have nothing to eat. So, I joined a group of other less-priviledged children and played 'catching' ( 'Ah Chi Chook'). It was fun!

When I went to the Secondary school, the morning 'lunch' habit was dropped. I took the public bus to school and reached school at about 7:00 a.m. But I still get 10 sen as pocket money. To supplement my pocket money, I served food at the school canteen for the first 10 minutes of recess time; and got to eat for free, gobbling down my food the last 5 minutes just before recess ended. It worked fine. I got a bowl of hot curry mee (worth 15 sen) and a drink (worth 5 sen).

With 10 sen saved in a day, I could accumulate up to 2 Ringgit in 2 weeks. I would then give my savings back to ma to help her in her home expenses. She was impressed. My reward--her broad smile of approval. In spite of a relatively deprived childhood, I grew up a happy person.

In the evenings, I used to cycle around the neighbourhood with my sisters and neighbours; while Tzong Ying and Tzong Meng (my brothers) climbed 'hills' -- pa san zhai. There were lots of dis-used mining ponds around. Jln Siputeh is near to Bemban New Village ('pu-tao yen' or 'grape garden'-- the village we came from), an old tin-mining area. We used to stop by the pond; threw stones in it and feeling thrilled just to see the ripples formed in the waters. We would compete to see whose ripple lasted the longest and giggled at our victory.

At times, I would go to the pond by myself and ponder over my future, life and everything that mattered to me at the time... The air was fresh and everything was so quiet, I could hear the birds chirped.

Today, I have more than 10 sen in my pocket. But I have lost the carefree innocence and bliss. I have no time to stand and stare--no place so quiet to ponder. I have responsibilities to shoulder; problems to think about--my children, their future, their safety, their health...

And if you ask me, I would gladly exchange today with just one day when I had 10 sen in my pocket!

The Dog Ain't Man's Best Friend Anymore! 

Welcome to The Evil Empire

What the heck is my clothes' peg doing here?

Ma used to nag at me for studying too much! "You want to be a Zhuang Yen (scholar)?" Ma used to complain when she sees me with my books almost all the time--be it midnight or early morning at 3A.M. I was a good student but Ma was afraid I might go mad studying too hard.

I used to suffer from headaches. Later, I found out that it was due to my myopia (very slight and I never wore glasses). Ma cooked Pig's Brain soup to try to cure me of my headaches.

"It's good for your brains!" she said convincingly.

Pig's Brain tastes just like Tofu Fa. Ma steamed it with rock sugar and red dates for hours till the brain acquired a fine silky texture and the soup became aromatic and honeyed. I braced myself to swallow ma's concoction, but I did it more to please her than being convinced of the fact that it will improve my brainpower. After that, it was Pig's Brain every weekend... I bet none of you had ever eaten as much Pig's Brain as I did in 1974--the year I took my O-Levels.

Today, as a mother, I wish I could will my children to study--even with half the zest I used to display. But it was not to be. The computer has taken over. Welcome to the Evil Empire!

Now being the school holidays, my kids will be at their computers almost every minute of their waking life--whenever they are not eating, bathing or forced to read their books. At any one time, they have at least 5 applications open--Neopets, MSN chat, Itunes, Yahoo Mail and a game--Sims or Pirates of the Caribbean. Sometimes, my son plays two computers at the same time.

And what do you think my clothes' peg was doing on my keyboard? Kean Wah (hidden in the picture) was playing Neopets and in part of this game, he had to press the spacebar to keep his pet soldiers marching. After doing that for a couple of minutes, it dawned on him that he could get some tools to assist him.

"Mum, I need a clothes peg!" he yelled from his computer.

"What?" I shouted from my workstation.

"Clothes' peg--the big one... I need the BIG one!" he pleaded.

And you know what? It worked beautifully. Relieved from having to press the spacebar, he could now use his hands to control some other programs.

According to Garner, people have multiple intelligences. Do not worry if your child is not good at Maths--Numeracy is just not his game. So, I consoled myself. At least he is good at problem solving. A very important skill indeed!

Feeding the Kangaroos in Sydney's Featherdale petting zoo--2004 

My Family in Hangzhou outside LinYing Temple 2003 

What's in a name?

The four girls in our family were named: Fun (Fen), Fung (Fang, that's me), Mee (Mei), Moi(Lee Kwoi's twin who died as an infant) and Kwoi (Gui). Put our names together, it sounds like: fragrant and beautiful roses! How ingenious of Pa!

When my girls were borned, Pa chose their names for me. As I do not write Chinese, he would write the name on a piece of paper for me to take with me when I register the births of my girls.

Registering Yi Wen (a.k.a Pleasant Scholar--it was my wish for her to be an academic genius...) was not a problem. I had tucked the piece of paper safely in my bag and produced it when prompted to enter her chosen name in the birth certificate.

Naming Yi-Wei was another matter. In my hurry, I left the piece of paper at home. I dared not ask my husband to turn back as I did not wish to be rebuked. It would not make a difference anyway--he would never take the trouble.

So it was with much apprehension that I approached the registrar's counter.

"What is the child's given name?" a middle-aged lady asked in a standoffish manner.

" Yi-Wei, but I can't write it," I said timidly.

"Can't write?" she glared at me-- almost with contempt.

"Here, choose one!" said Cold Fish, tossing me a Chinese dictionary.

"Come back when you're ready with the name," she seemed to censure.

"Next!" she continued.

I almost dropped dead on the spot. "Yi" was easy--I just had to tell her that it's the same character as the Yi in "Yi Bao" (Ipoh, that is). "Wei" was a nightmare! I went through four pages of entries: Wei as in "hello"; "surrounded","curtain"...

I was sweating though the room was chilly; not forgetting it was just a week after I had given birth and I had not fully recovered from the trauma of childbirth.

I regretted for not learning Chinese when I was young. In my despair, I chose an entry that appeared to be non-offensive and not silly in its description. I still can't write it today but thank God, I was told it's a nice name for a girl.

When my son was borned, pa had already passed away. I turned to my husband's brother-in-law, George, to help us choose a name. He was named Kean Wah (Jian Hua). Jian as in "strong" and Wah was the given name following the family tree.

And this time, I made 100% sure I brought the precious little piece of paper with me to the registrar of births!

Precious Moments

It was evening and I was taking a lovely walk with Pa. This was one evening when I went alone with Pa to pick firewood for ma. Pa made me wear my school shoes and socks to prevent sand from getting into my shoes and pricking my feet. We had to walk over vast stretches of soft sandy land to get to the shrubs. Pa called the sandy stretch of land "Sa Si Pah" (sandy forest).

I was in Primary 2 at the time and studying at the Convent school in Batu Gajah. At school, I learnt to sing English songs, and one of my favourite was "KILLARNEY". I had no idea what the song meant or that Killarney was a place in Ireland with beautiful lakes. The lyrics of the song goes like this:

By Killarney's lakes and fells ;
Emerald isles and winding bay's Mountain paths and woodland dells, Memory ever fondly strays,
Bounteous nature loves all lands
Beauty wanders every where;

....

For some reason, I remembered this enchanted evening very clearly. I could still feel the soft breeze caressing my face as I ran in the sand and sang "Killarney" as loudly as I could. Pa and I were walking by the old disused mining pond near our home.

Perhaps, I had imagined the pond to be Killarney's lake and the surrounding shrubland as woodland dells. As I looked up , I wondered at the vastness of the boundless skies. A flock of birds was flying gracefully above and it made me feel free and un-restrained. I continued singing and Pa was smiling.

I at once knew that I would come to cherish this precious moment for a long time to come...

The Odd Couple

Ah Gong and Ah Po were really strange bedfellows, sharing a lifetime together but totally different in outlook and mannerism, While Ah Gong was affable in every manner; Ah Po in essence, was more abrasive and contentious.

Though we lived with our grandparents when we were very young, those years were a blur to me. However I did lived with Ah Gong and Ah Po for a year during my sophomore year at the University of Malaya in Kuala Lumpur. Uncle Kwong Teck then had a house in Section 19 in PJ and had kindly offered to let me stay with him. My grandparents were living with him, having moved out from the house in the Village by then.

My two cousins, Allan and Jennifer were very young at the time. Allan must be about 3 or so and Jennifer still an infant. Ah Po took care of Allan (that's the reason why Allan is perhaps the closest to Ah Po) while Jennifer was fostered out to a babysitter. My aunt Hong Giap was a nurse in University Hospital and for a time, Ah Gong used to drive her to and fro from work. Uncle Kwong Teck was working for Carlsberg (of the famed "Long Cool Dane") and his friends used to call him " Carlsberg Chai".

I occupied the room facing the back of the house, near to the kitchen. Uncle Kwong Sin and Aunt Siew Kheng were living in a house just behind us. My cousin Siew Key was just going to Kindergarten; Lee Voon (Mun Mun) in nursery maybe and Lee Lee still a toddler. Aunt Siew Kheng was a great cook and I used to enjoy having meals at her house. Uncle Kwong Sin was working with Welcome, a pharmaceutical firm.

Life was mainly mundane--my uncle and aunt busy with their work and I with my studies. There were very few buses plying the area and I had to walk about one KM to Section 17 to catch the bus to the campus and walked 1 KM back again in the evening. It was so quiet those days that I was often frightened by the echoes of my own footsteps, thinking I was being followed. Try walking today and you would probably be more annoyed by oncoming traffic, noise and dust; than being stalked by strangers.

Life was also peaceful except for the frequent 'quarrels' between Ah Po and Ah Gong. Even as Ah Gong was quiet and docile, Ah Po found every reason to pick up a 'fight'; bickering over nothing really.

On one occasion, Ah Gong came home after a haircut; and Ah Po must comment he looked like a "Tuk Loot" -- meaning someone foolish in Hakka. Most times, Ah Gong would let it go but at times he would retort, sometimes making funny remarks which incensed Ah Po further.

A funny anecdote as told by Lee Kwoi in our recent dinner get-together to celebrate my mother's birthday goes like this: Ah Po nags Ah Gong to throw the garbage into the huge can placed outside of the house.

Ah Gong utters under his breath, " Fine, fine. Why don't I bundle you up as well and have you disposed together with the garbage?".

Ah Po, totally miffed, rattled off in the least-refined Hakka phrases, rebuked Ah Gong for a good half hour. Ah Gong picks up the newspapers, pretended to read them and subsequently falls asleep-- amidst all the fury and outburst.

And that was just Ah Gong and Ah Po...living under the same roof for more than half a century; sharing the same bed perhaps but had hardly shown sweetness or affection to each other.

Fate had united these two beings. Their marriage, though not entirely blissful, lasted a lifetime. Can we say the same of ours?

Pitiful Ah Po

It must have been about 8 + P.M (the date I could not remember), I was rushing up the staircase to see grandma (Ah Po) who had been very ill. She was warded at Assunta Hospital in PJ. Just as I approached her bed, I heard nurses calling, " Ah Po! Ah Po!.." Unbeknown to me, it was precisely that moment that Ah Po passed on. Ah Po died at Assunta Hospital that night. She was 90 at least.

Ah Po outlived three of her sons-- Pa (eldest son), second uncle (who died in the jungle, killed by the communists) and uncle Kwong Sin (fourth son). Apart from second uncle's death, Ah Po was never told about Pa's and Uncle Kwong Sin's death. The grief brought about by this cruel truth would have killed her...

For years after Pa's death, Ah Po though never told the truth, must have suspected that something was amiss. When Ah Po was too frail and weak to be taken care of at home, she lived out her last few years in an Old Folks' Home. Uncle Kwong Sin's wife, Aunt Siew Kheng --Siew Key's mother-- who was taking care of her for some time, developed heart problems and could no longer take the stress. Occasionally, when I visited Ah Po, she always asked about Pa because she had not seen or heard from him for years.

She must have missed her sons very much. Uncle Kwong Teck was living in Australia and Uncle Wong Soong in HongKong/China. At the later stage of her life, Ah Po was rather subdued. While her small body frame had most visibly shrunk, her mind was still alert as she could remember and talked quite a lot of her past.

I wish I had visited her more often and talked to her more. But I was living in Singapore at the time and really did not see her much.

In her younger days, Ah Po was quite a fiery character. She was the strong Hakka woman -- probably ran the household and made most of the decisions for the family (till Pa was old enough to take over). Ah Gong was quiet and docile, too timid to incur Ah Po's wrath. So for her, to live out her last days, lonely and desolate away from her family, must have been despairing. It is undeniably pitiable.

My sympathies are with her still...

Gentle Grandpa (Ah Gong)

Grandpa & grandma with Siew Key & (?)

The early days in the lives of Grandpa & Grandma are little known to me. But I am curious to know more. Perhaps, I should talk to my uncles Kwong Teck (in Australia) & Wong Soong (in HongKong/China). And I would.

Grandpa was the only adopted son of Ah Tai and was named Chai Tham Jin (not too sure of the spelling). He was a man of few words -- a rather gentle and amiable guy. I heard that Great-grandfather (Tai Gong) who himself had 3 wives, once suggested that grandpa get a concubine or second wife (very common during those times). Grandpa was quick to say no to him, citing that he'd rather stay out of the women trouble Tai Gong had (with his 3 wives) ... That was wise of Ah Gong.

Like Ah Tai, Ah Gong made Tofu for a living and probably sold it at Ah Tai's stall at the Pusing market. I wasn't sure if he kept his own stall in Batu Gajah. My only recollection of Ah Gong going to work was that he rode on a high bicycle carrying some stuff at the back.

Ah Gong was sickly but he always suffered in silence. Once, he came to stay over at our house and he rested on the canvas bed for a good part of the day. I must be about 10 at that time and very mischievous. When Ah Gong got out of the canvas bed, I quietly removed its support. So when Ah Gong returned to sleep on the bed, the canvas slipped and he fell to the ground. Instead of getting angry, Ah Gong just looked around for the missing support, replaced it and continued as though nothing had happened. I was amused at my own little prank but also amazed at Ah Gong's inaction.

But something happened that evening that shocked me. We were awoken in the middle of the night and I saw Ah Gong vomitting blood-- a big pool of dark brownish blood was on the floor with much more splattered on the wall. A stench of stale blood pervade the air and Ah Gong was crouching on the floor. Pa called an ambulance and Ah Gong stayed in hospital for a few days after that. Imagine the remorse I felt, thinking that I was the one who'd caused Ah Gong's illness. I found out later that Ah Gong suffered from ulcers in his stomach.

In his quiet ways, Ah Gong showed his love to us. I don't remember him hugging any of us. The Chinese at the time did not display affection openly. But he did little things for us that demonstrated he cared.

As a child, my school bag was a rattan basket. Once the handle broke, Ah Gong used a piece of steel wire and inserted it to make a new handle. He then carefully weaved the rattan back so that it looked just as it was before. That school bag lasted the whole lifetime of my school-going years...

After my O-Levels, I wanted to look for a temporary job to earn some money for College. Ah Gong, who was living in Kuala Lumpur with uncle Kwong Teck at the time, drove me to the job interview and waited patiently for it to be over. I got a job as a salesgirl in the SEA Park emporium and Ah Gong was happy for me.

And when I started working and had to take a bus to work, I had to cross a roundabout to the bus-stop on the the other side of the road. To make it convenient for me, Ah Gong found a piece of plank and secured it over the drain so that I could cross it safely. After that, I saw many people crossing the roundabout using Ah Gong's wooden bridge...

These were some of my fondest memories of Ah Gong--my kind and gentle grandpa, always willing to lend a helping hand in the most unassuming ways.

Indelible Hakka phrases

The only time I was warded in hospital for a major illness was in 2001. I had my womb removed for uterine fibroids that have grown to the size of an apple in my uterus. The evening after the operation, my husband brought the kids to visit me. In a feeble and almost inaudible whisper; I asked my girls, " Have you washed your hair?" Imagine the reaction...

During most of my childhood and young adulthood, my pa used to remind us, without fail every evening: "Have you bathe? Da Tonn Goon!" Da Tonn Goon literally means "Beat till the stick breaks" and it was used by pa to mean someone stubborn. The following are some unforgettable Hakka phrases that I grew up hearing:

Poi Tiok: A phrase uttered to express disgust. (Cheh! or Cis!)
Tai Fan Su: Literally " Big Sweet Potato" meaning a clumsy or useless person.
Bot tai larng or Bot larng gui: A 'sick' person suffering from extreme cold ; used to indicate disapproval of someone you dislike or loathe.
Ham Gah Can: A curse meaning demise of an entire family; (really evil, don't ever use this!)
Tziga Ngin: Our own people; use to indicate you are also a hakka. (Very useful phrase in a foreign land. You will get special treatment from your hakka counterparts--I got belacan Chilli when I was in a chinese restaurant in Finland because the proprietor was "Tziga Ngin")
Gan Du: Bedroom (only grandma's generation used that phrase)
Zao Tiu: the stove
Zao chu: the larder
Fa miao ma chut fa miao zai: A striped cat will produce striped kittens; same meaning as: " like father like son"; or the young offspring will always inherit the attitude and habits of the mother/father.
(To be continued...)

Ah Tai

Ah Tai, the typical Hakka woman

When I gave birth to my first child, I was lucky to have an easy labour. Between the time, I got into intense labour pain and the time Yi Wen was born, it was a mere half-hour affair. My gynaecologist was amazed. When the hospital informed her that I was in labour, she thought she could still manage a good 5-6 hour sleep but when they called her again in 30 minutes to say that baby's on the way, she jumped two traffic lights to rush to hospital, just in time for the delivery...

My husband attributed this to my Hakka woman trait. Hakka women are known to have strong personalities: hardworking and tough. Ma is no exception, so was grandma ( Ah Po) and great-grandmother (Ah Tai).

For my younger cousins who never had the opportunity to get to know Ah Tai, I would like to share this experience today. Ah Tai, was a typical village woman with no education. Second wife to great-grandfather who abandoned her to marry a third wife in China, she confronted her adversity and ran quite a successful 'tofu' business in Pusing.

Ah Tai was barren. She adopted grandfather (Ah Gong) and grand-aunt (Jin Tai Gu Po). Ma worked for Ah Tai and also kept her company. Ah Tai's blue-eyed child was Tzong Ying. Our first TV set was bought with contribution from Ah Tai. Though living a frugal lifestyle and not willing to spend on herself, she parted with her money easily for the sake of Tzong Ying...

I do not have a photograph of Ah Tai so I'll attempt to describe her. In her sixties, Ah Tai was pudgy with a chubby face and a hunched back (due to hours of bending over to make 'tofu'). Her face told of a hard life with lines of wrinkles running from the corners of her small, beady eyes. With a broad round face and prominent cheeks, light brown complexion blemished with speckles of pigmentation, Ah Tai wore her hair in a sort of permanent bun. I used to wonder if she ever washed or cut her hair. She owned only a few pieces of clothing. She wore the same pair of black samfu trousers and a dark blue samfu top for as long as I can remember.

Tzong Ying used to spend hours wandering around her house catching spiders and jumping on her bed while accompanying Ma at her work. During weekends, one of us would accompany Tzong Ying and we dread having to spend a solid 9 hours cooped up in what I considered as Ah Tai's den.

Ah Tai's bedroom was small, dank, dark with a heavy whiff of medicated oil ('foong yow' or minyak kapak) pervading the air. Her living room was also dim and dusty, furnished with only two or more chairs made from cane or rotan. And there was, of course, a grandfather's clock. (All houses seem to have a grandfather's clock those days.)

We used to lie on her bed and toyed with her bamboo fan and back-scratching device ( a wooden device shaped like a long hand). When Tzong Ying got bored, he'd run around the cinema (just beside Ah Tai's house) to collect strips of cut films.

For tea in the afternoon, we always had "tofu fa"; but some days (when Ah Tai felt generous), we got to eat a selection of Pusing's famous nonya cakes: kueh lapis, dumplings stuffed with shredded mengkuang and dried prawns (the chilli sauce that goes with it was really yummy), pink 'hee paan' and the most unusual black 'Chuh Yap Paan' (made of glutinous rice and some sort of leaves which somehow turned black when steamed).

At 5 O'clock, ma wrapped up her work and took us home in a bus. Ah Tai always gave us with 10 sen as pocket money, and to us it was a well-earned reward.

Ma's story (part 2)

Today, when I pass by any snack shops selling 'You Tiao' (Crispy Chinese Crullers or better known as You Zha Gui, literally means deep fried devils), I always remember the time when ma used to make them to sell in the morning. Maybe, my brothers had no recollection of this, being too young at the time. So, I must reminisce this chapter of ma's life.

Ma had a hard time managing the family's finances. Pa's monthly salary was not really enough to feed, clothe and put us through school. So she came out with this idea of selling 'You Tiao' and sweet cakes to village workers who always passed by our house on their way to work in the morning. She woke up as early as 3 a.m. in the morning to get the cakes ready for the workers who would come to patronise her 'stall' as early as 5...

Ma figured the recipe out herself which was quite clever I must say. Having little education means ma never read and therefore had no recipe book to guide her. Ma's 'stall' was just a makeshift table that she put outside the house, lit by a candle. Lai Fun and I used to help man the stall as ma would be busy in the kitchen. (Lai Fun must be about 11 and me about 9, I think.) Ma had a lot of customers...

Usually, it was Lai Fun who handled the money but I was eager to be in charge. Once, I mistook a $5 note for $1 and gave that out as change to a customer. It was dark and I was sleepy. The man probably noticed the mistake but kept quiet and pocketed the change.

When we discovered the mistake, I felt really miserable but was at a loss of what to do to remedy my oversight. Lai Fun was very observant. She could identify the man who took the change and described his facial features to a neighbour.

The camaraderie among neighbours was really incredible those days. Based on Lai Fun's description, my neighbour ( whom we called "Seh Moi Jia") paid the man a visit and reprimanded him for being so dishonest... The next day, the man returned the money.

To supplement pa's income, ma did not stop at selling "You Tiao". She worked for my great grandmother ('Ah Tai') for $60 a month. She went to great-grandma's house in Pusing ( a small town about 8 KM away) at 8 every morning to help with the making of 'Tofu'; and returned home at 5 in the evening...

Ah Tai's 'tofu' was reputed to be the best in Pusing. In fact, there was an offer to Ah Tai to 'franchise' her tofu at a fee of $50,000 -- a lot of money at the time. But Ah Tai refused to share her recipe...

We always enjoy eating "tofu fa" when we visit Ah Tai. It was really delicious...the nectareous taste, nice aroma, distinctive soft and silky texture... It was really mouthwatering. When ma cooked "Yong Tow Foo" (stuffed tofu) with it, it would be crispy on the outside but soft on the inside--it sort of just melts in your mouth. I could eat so much that I found myself unable to sit down after that due to a really, really full stomach...

Ma's story

Pa & Ma taking a holiday

A nice shot here of Pa and Ma taking a holiday (in Penang). This is a very rare event. Ma is 70 this year, and she still hates travelling. She claims it's more a torture than pleasure for she can't bear to sleep anywhere else except on her own bed. I think she has conditioned herself to think so out of the need to be prudent for many years.

We were living just above the poverty line when we were kids. Ma was managing the family funds and she had to scrap every single 'sen' she could find to feed and clothe the family. She was wonderful at that.

Those days, I dread ma's incessant nagging. I could still feel it drumming in my ears. Today, I can empathise with her. The poor woman had to toil from day to night, coping with household chores, looking after and cooking for six growing kids, with no extra help. Only when we were older, we helped with the household chores. And money was really hard to come by... To ma, the day ends at about 9 P.M. The next day, she would up at 5 A.M. and the cycle repeats itself. What a humdrum existence! Poor Ma.

Ma hails from Raub, a small hillside town in the state of Pahang. She married Pa at the age of 20 and was immediately plunged into a very different world from where she came.

Ma was youngest in her family and had lived quite a carefree childhood. Being the youngest, her parents (especially her father) doted on her. She gave up schooling after grade 5 because she was not interested in her studies and her father let her. As a kid, she was quite a pranskter. Ma used to recount her childhood pranks to us when we were young. We found them quite entertaining and used to laugh till our bellies ached. I could still see the glint of happiness in her eyes as she talked about her past.

After dropping out from school, ma stayed home. Like girls her age do at the time, ma cooked for her family and did a bit of household chores. She loved watching movies and hung around the cinemas literally every afternoon--even if it meant watching the same movie several times over. I guess she did not have any other hobbies and that was how she while the hours away.

Her evenings were spent chatting with friends and watching the sun set at the park. I remember seeing a photograph of ma sitting pretty with her long skirt sprawled against the lawn. (I would very much want to see that photograph again..it's ma at the happiest time of her life.)

After the wedding, ma lived with her in-laws (there was grandpa, grandma, and 5 of pa's younger siblings). My grandparents made and sold 'tofu' or beancurd for a living and that I was told involved a great deal of labour.

In the Chinese society where filial piety was much practised and glorified: the old were expected to be treated with respect. At times, things went overboard. It was not unusual to hear stories of new mothers-in-law (whose status in society had just moved a notch higher for them) bullying or even tormenting their young daughters-in-law. And that was considered acceptable in those days.

When ma married into the family, she found herself being 'nudged' out of bed in the early hours of the morning (before 5 A.M.). The 'tofu' must reach the market early and work on it starts much earlier. If ma got up late, grandma would be incensed and threw a tantrum. She (grandma) would be ranting away: hurling pails and basins against the walls and floors; berating grandpa and blaming him for her miseries; cursing her mother-in-law and her ancestors before her; condemning the gods in the heavens and such...

The uproar and din was to send this signal to ma; "Wake up sleepy head, we don't have all day!" As Chinese, we do not believe in being explicit. We often show our displeasure, disguised as anger directed at unrelated issues. You just use your common sense to figure it out.

In addition to helping out with the making of the 'tofu', ma was also expected to do all the household chores: to cook and wash for everyone in the household. My aunts and uncles were still of school-going age and probably too young to intervene.

Ma tolerated grandma's taunting for years and it dragged on till after we were born. One day, when she could not take it anymore, she blew up and a big quarrel ensued. The acrimonious dispute was finally settled when ma insisted that we moved out to live on our own at the Teachers' Quarters. Pa relented. I know he would have done so reluctantly as he was a very filial son.

Ma has a strong character, stubborn at times but very determined and I must say, more entrepreneurial than pa. She is also quite clever. In spite of having little education, she learns things very fast if she puts her heart to it.

While we need not pay rent to live at the Teachers' quarters, we had to pay for electricity and water. Because the four houses in the row share only one water meter, the bill was shared by the four families. As we have the most number of people in the 4 households, we always pay more than the others.

At some point, we found that it was getting too costly and ma decided that we would stop using the tap water supplied to the quarters. Instead, we got a free supply by obtaining them from the public taps located just opposite the house. But it means having to collect and carry them home everyday. Ma was very determined.

Every morning, for at least an hour, she would fetch pails of water, balancing 2 large pails (must be at least 10-20 litres each) on a shoulder pole. It was a heavy load--I tried to lift it once but it wouldn't even budge.

In the afternoons, when we finished school, it was our turn to do so. Lai Fun, though just two years older than me, had a bigger built. She was the one who did most of the work. She was strong enough to carry the large pails of water the way ma did.

But I remember the first time when she tried it out. The pails swung dangerously across the two ends of the shoulder pole as sis Lai Fun tried to balance them and to carry the heavy load across the road. The load was actually too heavy for her size and age. She spilled most of the water she collected before she reached home with them. But she did not complain...

Lee Mee and I helped out too. Pa made a mini version of the pails from tins used for storing cooking oil. We balanced four of them: two on each side of the pole. It was manageable for us. But we would never have managed without sis Lai Fun. Ma did one more round of collecting water in the evenings. Tough life...

Family treasures

Coming from a poor family, there isn't much family heirloom to speak about. But there were some family 'treasures' I wished one of us had been sensible enough to keep them. Out of ignorance, I played a part in destroying some priceless treasures...

Grandma's beautiful wedding costume & accessories:

Grandma's breathtakingly beautiful wedding costume left an indelible memory and also a pang of guilt and regret each time I think about it. The brilliant red gown, intricately-beaded with waves of floral and phoenix designs; was accompanied by an equally stunning headdress with tassels of fine silk in front of it. During the wedding, the face of the bride would be covered by the tassels and the groom would only get to see his bride when he unveiled her after the wedding .

Grandma came from quite a well-to-do family and she had the gown personally tailored for her wedding. Together with the gown were two cane baskets and a wooden pole. I believe the baskets carried wedding presents which a servant girl carried on her shoulder, making it on foot, all the way from the bride's home to her new abode.

Grandma was petite and stood at probably about 143 cm. I could wear the gown comfortably at the age of seven. As a child, I was enthralled by the beauty of the gown but knew next to nothing about how priceless the piece of treasure was. During Chinese Opera season, I would spend hours 'acting' in front of the mirror, wearing grandma's gown. Ma's wardrobe had a long mirror in front of it and that was where I whiled many afternoons away imaging myself as Zhu Ying Tai, pretending to sing Chinese opera and waving ma's fan in one hand.

One day, Lee Kwoi had this brilliant idea that the beads from the gown would make beautiful bracelets and necklaces. We then spent hours plucking the beads from the headdress and stringing them together to make ornaments for our playtime. What a dumb thing to do, but dummies we were at that age!

Ma never got along well with grandma and she hated the sight of the gown. When we moved to Jln Siputeh, she dumped the gown and its accessories in a makeshift hut opposite our house, which we used as a store room. Later, it was either forgotten or burnt...

If anyone of us had preserved the gown today, this priceless piece of family treasure of more than 100 years old, would indeed be in pursuit by collectors... An utter waste, but who knew then?

Monday morning blues

" I hate Mondays!", lament my son Kean Wah, as I hauled him from his bed. The time was 6:50 A.M. An hour ago, I was struggling to get out of my bed with the same pensive thought that the rest of the week shall be just as dreadful. And then I began my routine: boil water, make coffee, prepare breakfast, wake the children & see them off to school...

As I walk Kean Wah to school, I met the same faces: most of them frowning or at best deadpan. There was this old man I meet every morning. I've never seen him smile, he seemed heavy with some sort of burden, a reluctant modern-day Hercules. Then there was this group of Indonesian maids, the only group of people who enjoyed Monday mornings, chattering and bantering all the way. I guess there must be lots of gossips to catch up with after the weekend. A few random people were waiting for the bus at the bus stop just outside my apartment, all wearing the same faraway expression on their faces.

As we walked silently to school, I see a long queue of cars on the road in the opposite direction. Monday jams are always bad--everyone is late... Again, I see lots of grim, disgruntled faces. Monday morning blues, such a banal expression.

I met the school janitor, gave her a smile and then she said something rather remarkable: " You're a good person, I can tell." Hey, that's a bit of dad in me, I thought. And that's my Monday morning today.

Pushing our little prince in his pram 

In the Village (Part 2)-- A 'prince' in the family

To the Chinese people, having a son is a true blessing, as it is the son who carries on the family name. You can imagine the sense of anguish that pa and ma were in; when after five children, there was still no son. Ma gave birth to twins on her fourth pregnancy. Lee Kwoi's twin died as an infant and ma went through a very traumatic childbirth that almost cost her life...

But even as pa and ma were praying and trying for a boy; they have never loved us less, though we were all girls. Their prayer was answered when Tzong Ying was born in 1963. And you can guess how thrilled we all were and in every sense of the word, Tzong Ying was our little prince... We all loved him very much. And as you can see from the picture, he was also good-looking and very lovable.

I remember ma's confinement ( the first month after childbirth) when Tzong Ying was born. True to Chinese tradition, she was always covered up: she wore a light blue cardigan and covered her head with a scarf, all the time. And she never got out of the house. She bathed with hot water boiled with herbs--I can still smell it today--though I thought its grassy smell was vile. Ma also did not wash her hair for the month (I just can't figure out how she tolerated it).

Women are not supposed to work or touch (cold) water during confinement as the Chinese believe that it will cause women to be rheumatic in their old age. But ma did not have a choice. She had to cook and look after us as we could not afford a helper. Her better-off counterparts would have hired a confinement lady (that's a nurse maid who is hired to look after the mother and the baby during confinement month).

I remember visitors coming with gifts of live chickens, Chinese herbs, wine... Suddenly, the house had a burst of activities that we welcome. Grandma also came to help cook special meals for ma. The aroma of Chicken cooked in
sesame oil, ginger, rice wine used to fill the house but ma always shared her meal with us. Those days, chicken was only served during festivals or special occasions. Our daily meals were just simple fare--chicken and duck were precious commodity, to be enjoyed only during special occasions. And with four hungry kids sharing her meal, ma did not get much to eat at the end of the day...

When Tzong Ying turned one month old, there was a simple celebration. Ma made hard-boiled eggs and pickled ginger and have them coloured red. Red is an auspicious colour for the Chinese people. Pa bought roast pork and have them divided into portions. The portion of roast pork, hard-boiled eggs and pickled ginger made up gifts to be returned to those who brought presents for ma's confinement. It was a special day and I remember it quite vividly.

As Tzong Ying grew, he was very good-looking and being the first and only son in the family; we all treated him like gold... It was strange why there wasn't sibling rivalry. Tzong Ying was very active (today, we call would term him 'hyper') as a toddler. We used to look after him and let him play 'sand' with us most afternoons. He was also a very curious child: once, he dug a hole in the sand; burried a live toad; and sat on it. After a while, he dug it out to see if it was still alive... poor toad!!!!

As children, we played with sand a lot. It was no wonder that we always get infested with worms. Pa gave us a remedy that sort of tasted like candy. After consuming that, we passed out worms that were still wriggling with life... Gross. I used to enjoy the 'candy' but dread passing out the worms.

Lee Mee had a hilarious encounter. Once, she was chased by a hen in grandma's backyard. She ran screaming away with a worm, still dangling out of her butt... She was just 'doing her business'; happily drawing on the sand while she did; when mother hen discovered her lucky find'!

As you may have guessed, we did not have a toilet in the house. Toilets were communal--a row of 2-3 toilets (bucket laterines) serviced a row of houses of maybe 6-7 families. These wooden sheds were usually situated a short walk from the house. As kids, we loathed going to the toilet. The short walk aside, these bucket laterines were filthy and smelly. On many occasions, we found snakes coiled in the bucket laterines. The 'nightsoil carrier' (that's the person who empties the buckets of shit..) came once in a few days. Though it was totally unhygenic, we as kids, used to dig a hole and discharged our load in it.

Going to the toilets at night was our worst nightmare. The toilets were not lit and we had to bring along torch lights. Imagine having to balance the torch and do 'what you had to do' at the same time! When I stayed over at grandma's, one of my aunts would always get me to volunteer as a chaperon when they had to go to the loo at night. I was tasked to hold the torchlight and shine it in the direction of the laterine. But sometimes, my curiosity got the better of me and I would be shining the torch on the tree branches to see what's making noises in the night. And my aunt would scream at me....I don't blame them.

We were living in such poor conditions in the village. So when we heard that pa got a house (a low-cost home) for us, we were overjoyed. We went to see our new house. It was made of brick; it had a decent red-tiled roof and best of all, a toilet (that flushed) of our own....and a gate. Gosh, this is living or so I thought! So we moved out of the village in 1966 or 67 to our humble abode at 18 Jln Siputeh.

Tzong Meng was already born then. And this little two-bedroom house- of- brick came to acommodate the 8 of us. That's quite a squeeze but we did not complain. I think my two younger brothers will remember living in Jln Siputeh more than the village.

We left the village and began a whole new adventure in Jln Siputer, a small settlement, half-way between the nearest town of Batu Gajah and Bemban New village. And more stories will follow....

A younger Pa & Ma

Pa looking handsome--probably in his 20s

I was simply thrilled to get hold of this photo. This was taken during Pa's early years before he got married. Look at that full crown of hair, I was lucky to inherit that. I also got his forehead and nose. Mum is much prettier--you'll see in the next photo.

Pretty Ma

Mum, isn't she pretty?

My PaPa

Pa's photo taken while holidaying in Taipei just after his retirement. See that kind smile in his eyes...If anyone of you have photos of a younger dad, please send them to me..

Papa, as he was fondly called, was the kindest person I'd ever known. He's passed on for more than 10 years now, but I still miss him a great deal. I remember him as the kind and protective father, an avid gardener and one so proud of his children, he always beamed a great smile when he talked about them.

Pa had been a teacher all his life, teaching in the village till the day he retired. Everyone in the village knew and respected him, they addressed him as Teacher Chai or just 'Good-Old' Chai. Today, the voices of children, reciting passages in Chinese after Pa, still ring in my ears as his school was just opposite the house where we stayed. Pa was kind but strict with the kids. However, everyone I knew respected him.

I remember an incident when pa saved a village woman. There was a typhoon on that day. The wind was so strong that we were told to hide under our beds. The roof of our house was blown away. But when pa saw the woman struggling her way home in the storm, pa braved the typhoon and offered her shelter till the storm had passed.

Just after Pa's death, I accompanied mum back to our house in Jalan Siputeh and stayed there for almost a week. Visitors from the village streamed in everyday and everyone had good things to say of him. "Such a good man, your papa. Such pity..that he should leave us..." they would say. Pa was 63 when he passed on, really a waste, as life has just turned for the better for him.

Pa worked hard his whole life and had always been a man of humble means. He told us some stories of his youth. He was 16 during the Japanese occupation and had to live out in a farm all by himself. When he started schooling after the war, he had to cycle 12 miles to school (Ipoh town) each day. And on the way to school, he carried 4 coconuts to sell to get his pocket money, I suppose.

Pa was a very good student, as I was told. He did well in school but never had the opportunity to complete his O-Levels. The lack of this piece of qualification had caused him his promotion to become a headmaster. But he tried very hard to take his O-Levels on his own. Even while sis Lai Fun and I were taking our O-Levels, Pa was taking the same examination as a private candidate. But he never got his certificate as he could not pass the Malay Language paper. Think we were in the same exam hall once...

As far as I can remember, pa had never caned any of us. A knock on the head was all we got for mis-behaving or perhaps a stern rebuke. That was enough to keep us on our toes.

We were all close to Pa. As a kid, I used to take evening walks with him, picking up sticks and twigs for mum to make wood fire. (We cooked with a wood fire stove and also with a portable charcoal stove. It was only later in the late 60's that we started to use gas cookers.) Pa took really good care of us. Once he cut my hair and it turned out to be such a disaster, I hid under the bed for the rest of the day...

When I was doing my A-Levels and studying in Ipoh, pa waited (with much dedication) for me everyday at a neighbour's shop to take me home in his trusty old motorbike. (As the bus services to the Village and Jln Siputeh was very infrequent, that was the only alternative we had. I could have cycled to town to catch the bus to Ipoh but he would not allow that as it would be too dangerous to be out on the quiet streets as early as 5 AM in the morning..)

After my A-levels, I did a stint of temporary teaching at a secondary school (Yuk Kwan) in Batu Gajah and pa would send me to and from school everyday. "Your Pa is too protective," one of my colleagues remarked. When I first passed my driving, pa would sit beside me while I drive him. And he would be warning me not to knock down cyclists or pedestrians 'miles' ahead , before they could pose any danger. That was extremely stressful. I think I only picked up driving when I had to do so, commuting between Singapore and Johor Bahru, after I got married in 1984.

When I was doing my O-Levels, I made up my mind that I would work hard to get a degree, earn a four-figure salary and give pa a good life. I did that: got a scholarship, graduated from the university, got my four-figure salary job, and try to help pa support my two brothers through school. Did I manage to give him a good life??? Better than what it was before I guess, but I wish I really could have given him a much better life...

Look ma, we've got TV!!!

One of the earliest picture I have of myself. Must be about 5 years old then & missing a front tooth.

Television services were introduced in Malaysia in 1963. We did not own a television set till 1965. Our first TV set was a 19-inch Black & White and we were totally blown away by it. When we first got our TV set, we had a crowd of easily 20-30 people climbing on trees, or over each other, peeking in to watch it. People even drilled holes in our kitchen wall to get their view of this wonderful invention. What programme was on did not matter--even news was popular...

We were allowed to watch TV only at specified times: from 3-5 PM in the afternoon; the 8 o'clock news and that's about it. Our favourite Chinese movies were shown once a week but the screening time was late--think it was from 10 PM to midnight, and way past our bedtime. And that was forbidden. But we still managed to watch them by peeking through a small gap between the door frame and our bedroom door that was purposely left ajar. Then four bodies(Lai Fun's, Lee Mee's, Lee Kwoi's and mine) will be stealthily crouched near the doorway with four pairs of eyes peering through the gap. We got away most nights except on one occasion...

Tzong Ying, who was a toddler at that time, sensed that there was something behind the door and walked menacingly towards us. Fearing we might be found out, we closed our door in haste just in time to crush Tzong Ying's little finger... The rest they say was history.

In the Village (part 1)

My early childhood (0 - 12 years???) was spent in the village--Bemban New Village it was called. We lived in the Teachers' Quarters, a row of 4 houses, situated just opposite the school. Not a good thing. Dad could conveniently keep an eye on us while at work. He just got to stand at the doorway of his classroom and he could see what we were up to...

Grandma & grandpa lived in the same village, probably a Km away from us in a shop house. My aunties were teenagers and my uncles just started to work then. I remember uncle Kwong Teck's (my dad's youngest brother) first job--he was delivering bread for Sunshine Bakery ( I think!). And each time, he drove past our house, he'd stop by. I can still smell the nice aroma of the freshly-baked bread coming from his van. He always gave us two loaves of bread which we ate with such relish. Most days, we would have finished the bread before his van disappear into the village.



This is one of the few rare photographs I have of my childhood. Must be taken sometime in '64 cos my younger brother (Tzong Ying) was still a toddler. Tzong Meng, the youngest, was not even born yet. This photograph was taken at the quarters, a brick and wooden house with zinc roofing. The thing about zinc roofing is that it made a hell of a noise when it rains--drops of rain pitter-pattering on the roof. After a while, we sort of grew to like it--the sound of the rain almost deafening us from mum's incessant nagging.

The afternoons were usually very hot and we had no ceiling fans and air conditioners were unheard of. We were rather economically-challenged those days as dad earned a measly salary of three figures to support a family of 7.

We did not have toys so we improvised. The Ho's next door also had 4 children about our age and we played a lot together. Every afternoon, we'll get together and play family under the canopy of sea olive trees in front of our house. We'll gather leaves, flowers, wild fruits and even worms and caterpillars; cut them up and literally 'cook' them by mixing them with sand and water. We used coca bottle caps as moulds for our 'cakes' of (again) sand and water. Sometimes, we'd start a small fire with dried twigs in a small pit which we dug out to cook our thing....

We also love to play hide-and-seek as there was plenty of space for us to run around. At times, we climbed trees in the plot of vacant old mining land next to our houses. We made so much noise and annoyed one of our neighbours (the 'Lims') so much the wife used to complain about our little 'adventures' to our mothers. We were most active when our mothers were not around like when they were out marketing or something like that.

In the evenings, we used to cycle. I learnt to cycle when I was 7 and bumped my head several times against the wall or trees when I could not brake in time. We did not have child bikes those days and were actually cycling bikes built for adults-- our short legs hardly reaching the paddles.

On quieter evenings, we played dolls. We did not own barbie dolls, but made paper ones out of cardboards. But we still amuse ourselves a great deal making all sorts of outfits for our dolls...

My favourite time of the year was August/September. That's the Chinese opera season--meaning the Chinese opera troupe will be in town (the nearest town is Batu Gajah, about 5 Kms way) and the show was free for all. That was the time when we'd have night buses. At other times, the last bus servicing the village was at 6:15 in the evening. It was quite a sight for us to see night buses plying our otherwise dead-quiet streets. To us it was something really special and believe it or not, we even waited outside our house just to see the bus whiz past. And when it did, we clapped, shouted and almost danced; as though it was something to celebrate!!!

If we were lucky, we'll get to be picked by our aunties to accompany them to town to watch the opera. It was such a delight to get to sit on a night bus; go to town; buy fresh sugar cane drinks and just watch Chinese opera. I remember seeing folks bring along their our own stools and would count ourselves lucky if we get a place to sit in the front, near the stage. As my memory served me, I'd always had to watch standing up the whole night, way back in the crowd. Though the story made no sense to me as I did not understand much of it, the ambience was there and the fun of having a night outing was such a rare treat.

The opera usually end at midnight and the bus trip home was just as fascinating. On such nights, I'd sleep over at grandma's house. The next morning, about 5 in the morning, my aunt would take me home. I would ride pillion on her bicycle as she went to work tapping rubber or something. I remembered shivering at the back of the bike, half- asleep but feeling extremely satisfied and happy. Such were the simple things that gave us so much joy and happiness during our childhood. It's hard to imagine and comprehend it today...

I did not go to pre-school or kindergarten. Instead, I joined the Primary Ones at the age of 6 at my father's school. I did not remember much about those school days. Just that I made some friends who would, on the way to school, stopped by my house and peeped in through small holes they drilled in the zinc fencing at the back of the house, just out of curiosity, I guess. On one such occasion, mum was bathing me to prepare me for school and I was teased for being such a baby. I bathed myself after that...

On a few other occasions, I would forget to finish my homework and a friend of mine would volunteer to do it for me. She could write (scribble rather) real fast but her handwriting was of course very untidy and it was not difficult to tell it was not my work. Of course, my teacher (who also happened to be my neighbour) found out and I was punished twice: once by my teacher and another time by father.

Learning Chinese was hard and perhaps I hated school. On one or two occasions, I even forget to turn up for school; lost in play with a friend who stopped by to play with before school. Father came home and dragged me to school. I did not remember how I did at school. Probably quite bad, so dad decide to put me in an English school when I started Primary One officially at the age of 7. I went to Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus in Batu Gajah. And that would be another story...