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...