A Nyonya mosaic : memoirs of a Peranakan childhood

48 A NYONYA MOSAIC of pek kway (gingko nut). Whenever we prepared a soup dish where gingko nut was one of the ingredients no less than 1.2 kg (2 katties) of it were required. The first step was to crack open the hard outer shell with a pestle to get to the kernel. These kernels are covered with a thin, papery membrane which has to be peeled off with the aid of a knife. In the centre, running the length of each kernel is a fibrous rind-like substance, which is bitter and therefore must be discarded. It would have been so simple to just split the kernel and to pull off the fibrous strip. However, this would not be acceptable to any true blue Nyonya who valued presentation above being practical. Each kernel must remain whole. So in order to remove the fibrous strip a toothpick or matchstick was employed to slowly push it out. The technique was to insert the toothpick into one end of each kernel and push the fibrous material out the other end. Keeping in mind this fastidiousness in the preparation of other elaborate dishes, one can well imagine what it was like to be a Baba’s cook. Ah Pok had the knack of stretching time. In addition to his work in the kitchen he could find time to be in charge of the maintenance of the generator, to make fine wooden miniature furniture for burning at funerals, to grow juicy and healthy vegetables on the roof garden and to chop and stack the monthly lorry load of firewood required in the kitchen. He also made huge layang Hylam (Hainanese kites) about a man’s height which he flew high in the sky and left flying overnight by tying the kite string to one of the drain pipes along the roof. He was almost the perfect manservant except for his one weakness. He had an overpowering passion for gambling. Once he landed himself in trouble and caused a stir in the house. One evening, after he had finished his work, he sought grandma’s permission to go out for the night. It was customary

STAFF AND SURROUNDINGS 49 for everyone in the house to seek grandma’s blessing before going out. For immediate members of the family they had to reveal their reasons for leaving the house and the time they would be back. As for the domestic helpers grandma was not insistent to know their destination but they were reminded to be back by ten. On that night, Ah Pok failed to come home by the appointed time. In fact, he did not come home at all. It kept grandma awake the whole night as Ah Pok had never failed to come home before. The reason became apparent the next morning when a policeman came to inform us that Ah Pok had run foul of the law and was in police custody for gambling. He had been arrested in a raid on a gambling den. His failure to come home had not been communicated to father but with the arrival of the law the cat was out of the bag. Father was annoyed about it but, nevertheless, he bailed Ah Pok out and later on paid the fine. Unfortunately, this traumatic experience did not change his gambling habit at all. The third Hainanese in our service was Ah Nyiok who started working for us as a young sinkek, or newcomer, from China. His main job was to assist Ah Pok in the kitchen. As this did not appear to keep him busy, he was assigned additional duties which, included washing dishes after meal times, watering the potted plants in the compound, keeping the various altars clean, and helping Ah Pok cut and stack firewood. Later on it became his daily duty to take food to fourth brother who was attending school at St Joseph’s Institution like all his brothers before him. On the nights when Ah Nyiok and Ah Pok had nothing particular to do they quietly climbed to the roof garden above their room to peep at the going-ons in the Japanese hotel behind our house. The Japanese prostitutes who were attached to this hotel were uninhibited in their actions on their roof gardens as well as in the rooms which opened

50 A NYONYA MOSAIC onto it. After several hours on the roof, both workers would appear to be disgusted at what they had seen and would curse the Japanese women aloud. Eldest sister-in-law claimed that they were both hypocrites. After the departure of old Ah Wan another sinkek was employed to replace him. As he was truly fresh off the boat we called him sinkek bahru (new arrival). He was a far cry from Ah Wan who was diligent at work. Although most of his duties were light, like sweeping the ground floor of the three houses, he failed to adapt to his work and environment and appeared unhappy most of the time. It was not long after when he tendered his resignation. His duties were taken over by Ah Nyiok with the least bother. Female domestic helpers were assigned duties upstairs. One of them was Ah Sum, a Cantonese lady. She was known to have high blood pressure which explained her flushed complexion. Eldest sister-in-law wasted no time in awarding her the appropriate nickname of Si Muka Merah (the red-faced one). She attended to all the ironing for the family, which, before the advent of the electric iron, was a heavy and hot task. The charcoal-heated iron was a heavy contraption. When in use, the coals had to be red hot in order to obtain good results. Nyonyas in general loved their dresses well-pressed and well-starched. This could be achieved only with a very hot iron and a lot of sweat from the operator. Ah Sum’s subsidiary duties included the cleaning of the chamber pots from the rooms upstairs and the general cleaning of the surrounding areas. Our second female help was Ah Sim, the washerwoman. Our clothes were washed downstairs in the kitchen outside the servants’ bathroom, but were dried upstairs close to the bathroom of Rumah Hylam. Ah Sim was a faithful worker but she had to leave us once a year for her maternity leave. Where

STAFF AND SURROUNDINGS 51 Ah Sim was concerned it was a baby a year until we finally lost count of the number of children she had. She did not stay with us but went home as soon as she had finished hanging the clothes to dry, obviously to look after her brood. She was a quiet but diligent worker who needed the salary so badly that she only gave way to a locum when she was very close to her expected date of delivery. It was a pitiful sight to see a woman in a late stage of pregnancy hard at work washing the whole household’s clothes each day. She was also a reliable tailor and grandma occasionally paid her to sew dresses for our slave girls. Slaves were a common sight in well-to-do Baba homes. We had two slave girls. Ah Tuey, who was my age, was purchased for $400. She had to attend to all of grandma’s needs and was expected to be present by her side at all times. When she was not pounding the sireh leaf (betel vine leaf ) for grandma to chew she would be seen fanning her mistress. Sometimes she was asked to sweep all the stairways and the whole length of the drain that skirted the house. Poor Ah Tuey suffered the unhappy lot of most slaves, in that she was punished physically for any wrongs she committed. When she was in her late teens she ran away and was never found again. The other slave was an older girl whose name sounded like old Ah Wan’s. She was a general domestic helper without any specific tasks to perform daily. Her duties ranged from the simple job of preparing grandma’s weekly hot water bath to that of helping to scrape no less than ten coconuts at one go. Both our slaves were unattractive looking girls. As it was a well-known fact that slaves had the habit of running away, Ah Wan was never allowed to go out by herself lest she might be influenced to escape. This further lessened her prospects of ever finding a life partner. It was therefore not surprising that subsequently she eloped with Baboo our second watchman.

52 A NYONYA MOSAIC Our first watchman was Bola. He was actually employed to look after father’s office at Robinson Road during the day. Since he was not required to be on duty in the evening he became our night watchman at home. Bola was an Indian who was bald except for a strand of curly hair at the back of his head. We called him a Bengali, which was of course a misnomer. Our house had a pavement just outside the main doors, and this was where Bola slept. A small hut was built outside the garden wall, just beside the main gate for Bola to do his cooking. Although Bola was a temperamental person, he did not object to people standing a few feet away watching him cook his meals. I thoroughly enjoyed watching him cook his dalcha and chappatis every evening. But for some unknown reason, he did not permit anybody to step into his hut and approach his cooked food. Sister Puteh unknowingly walked into his hut one day in his presence. To her surprise, he reacted by throwing away all his food. This happened more than once, when others accidentally walked in while he cooked. Bola was a ganja smoker, who usually smoked in ·the company of several of his friends. His pipe was a funnel-shaped earthernware contraption tapering to the mouthpiece. The wide end of the pipe had a circumference slightly larger than the present day 50 cent coin and had a lip round it. To smoke the pipe he used a square piece of cloth which he wet with water and part of which he wrapped the lower half of the pipe with. The other half of the cloth hung loose. He then proceeded to wind a piece of hemp rope into a circular shape of a size slightly smaller than that of the opening of the pipe. The hemp rope was burnt until red hot before it was dropped into the pipe. A lump of ganja was then crushed in the palm of the hand and poured into the pipe onto the red hot piece of rope. Holding the pipe by the lower end he proceeded

STAFF AND SURROUNDINGS 53 to smoke from the end of the wet cloth which dangled free of the pipe. After puffing a couple of times he passed the pipe to the next person who continued the smoking chain. When he was alone he did not smoke the pipe bur just popped a wad of ganja into his mouth and proceeded to chew it. The ganja habit did not seem to get him arrested. After father’s death Bola left our service and he was replaced by Baboo. When we were staying at Wilkie Road, father owned both types of horse carriages available then. One was the Kreta Bogey, a high, open-seater popular with menfolk. The other was a covered carriage called Kreta Pelankin. Father sold them and bought a car when we moved to Prinsep Street. Ahmad was the name of our driver. As we did not have sufficient space to park the vehicle at home father rented a garage with living quarters above it, for Ahmad and his family. In general we were blessed with a set of faithful, reliable and honest domestic staff. Due credit for this should go to grandma for the way she handled them. She was strict when necessary but she could be lenient when she had to. The staff feared her but they did not hate her for she did not bother them unnecessarily. As long as they had completed their assigned duties they could loaf around the house without any comment from her. They in turn were expected to produce good work. Grandma always made sure her staff had enough to eat. This was not the normal practice in other households where the domestic helpers, especially the slaves, were at times provided with the barest minimum at meals. We used to hear endless complaints from friends and relatives about their staff problems and the frequent quarrels among their workers at home. Grandma was always able to justifiably boast that nothing of that sort ever took place in her household.

54 A NYONYA MOSAIC Prinsep Street circa 1912. Our house was the third building from the right. (Courtesy of Mr Andrew Tan) The front facade of our house.

chapter three The Birthday WE CALLED ELDEST grand-aunt Koh Poh Cho. She was also known as Bongkok (Hunchback) which was such a fine name for her that few of us ever thought it important to know her real name. Koh Poh Cho celebrated her seventy-fourth birthday in a grand way when I was ten years old. As the etiquette of the period demanded, grandma, being a close relative, was obligated to send as many lady members of her family as she could to help serve the multitude of guests. On this occasion, grandma was not limited in her choice to sending only the married women of the household, for in the close proximity of the family, she could take the opportunity to introduce anak daras (eligible young maidens) to society. So, besides her two grand daughters-in-law, grandma sent sister Puteh and cousin Swee Neo who were the correct age. Swee Neo was a distant cousin, who, as a child had lost her parents. Although she was being looked after by her married elder sister, it was grandma, being her closest elderly relative, who was responsible for bringing her out. Cousin Swee Neo was not to find out till much later, but it was this birthday party which eventually led to another major celebration in our family.

56 A NYONYA MOSAIC Social gatherings of the day were held at home rather than at restaurants because people generally lived in large houses with spacious gardens and were never short of female relatives to wait at tables. Food was customarily served twice a day at parties because male and female guests were invited to different meals: males for dinner and females for lunch. However, the caterer for both meals would be the same Hainanese man who, more often than not, had once been employed in a Baba home as cook. Having mastered our culinary art and customs they could set up their own food catering service with great success. They were so familiar with our ways and preferences that there was little need to go into details. All they needed to know was the number of guests expected for the afternoon laok meja panjang and the laok jantan at night. Laok meja panjang was made up of specific dishes and served on a long table for female guests at weddings and birthdays. Today it has become popularly designated as laok tok panjang, the word tok being the Chinese term for the Malay word meja (meaning table) and is attached, incorrectly, to Nyonya food served at any function. The laok jantan or ‘food for men’ consisted of more or less the same menu served at lunch but, instead of being served all at once, the dishes were served as separate courses. On the day of the reception I woke up earlier than usual because I was restless with excitement. Normally, a girl of my age was not expected to be present at a celebration. However, as I happened to be Koh Poh Cho’s favourite grandniece, she had specifically mentioned that she wanted me at her party and grandma had relented. Women rarely had any opportunity to attend social functions, and when they did, they took pains to dress and look their best. I was well aware that on that day eldest sister-in-law was bound to be anxious because of the household

THE BIRTHDAY 57 duties she had to finish before she could leave for the party. On top of this, she was expected to be there early, before the guests arrived. Fortunately she was a fast worker and by the time I woke up she had already almost finished her work. In no time at all she had dressed me and gone to prepare herself, but not before sternly instructing me to sit quietly and not move about too much lest I got my well-starched dress crumpled. As nothing was more abhorrent to me than a crumpled dress, I decided to minimise movement. It was while I was dutifully seated on one of the mother-of-pearl inlaid blackwood armchairs that adorned most of our halls that grandma found me. She started to deliver her usual lecture, rambling on about not forgetting to greet everyone politely and properly, not to be in people’s way, not to make unnecessary noises, and, most importantly, not to forget to wish Koh Poh Cho a long life. I had been through variations of the same lecture many times before and I just nodded my head woodenly and replied obediently ‘Baik mama’ (Yes, grandma) at intervals without actually paying attention. I was more concerned about keeping the beautiful creases on my outfit! In the meantime both sisters-in-law were frantically rushing about completing their chores and then getting ready to be at grand-aunt’s house on time. After what appeared to be an eternity of sitting stock-still and bearing grandma’s detailed instructions on etiquette, they were at last ready to go. But not yet; grandma had still to hold her inspection to see that we were properly attired in the way she had directed days before. Grandma’s idea of proper dressing for a party meant that one should be festooned from head to toe with as much glittering jewellery as possible. For wasn’t it only on such occasions that ladies could display all their best jewellery for all to see? Somehow, we were early at grand-aunt’s house. Most of the guests had not arrived but several relatives were already there

58 A NYONYA MOSAIC ahead of us. Grand-aunt was seated on her favourite armchair to welcome her guests. There she sat, very appropriately dressed for the occasion, a perfect picture of classic Nyonya dignity. In her coiffure, she had struck three solid gold hairpins. Two of these korek kupings were plain but the third, the smallest, was a decorative piece with a flower motif in addition to several brilliants. It was considered the junior piece and was naturally known as the anak (baby) korek kuping. At her age grand-aunt wore only one ornate hairpin. The privilege of wearing three be-jewelled hairpins belonged to the anak darahs and young brides who had not yet borne children. Similarly, drop earrings were out of the question as far as grand- aunt was concerned. For her it was stud earrings. The size of the pair she had on was the envy of many of her guests – so big they were. Her long baju Nyonya (or baju panjang) was of fine silk material, the stra lokechuan; the background colour was brown, with details of delicate flowers on it. In place of buttons she wore three gold kerosangs which fastened her dress at the front. Two of these brooches were similar in shape and size: round with diamonds along their circumference. The third one was a gold pin worn in between the other two. I was totally fascinated by the design of this pin. It was an eagle fighting a snake. On each of her third fingers she had a glittering ring. For this red-letter day she wore a special matching sarong made of an expensive material called kain menang bola. On her feet was a pair of new embroidered slippers. Following my two sisters-in-law, sister Puteh and cousin Swee Neo, I took my tum to wish grand-aunt a long life in our traditional way. To preserve my neat dress, I lowered myself slowly to a squatting position before her, then put my palms flat together and in a loud, clear tone wished her a long life. She praised me and said I was a clever, graceful girl as she reached

THE BIRTHDAY 59 out to help me up. Imagine my feelings when she proceeded to hug and kiss me, for she not only smeared my face with traces of the deep-orange juice from the betel nut she was chewing, but she had also crumpled my dress! Bongkok Koh Poh Cho received a lot of presents that day but there was no variety and surprise in them. Without exception, each close relative brought a pair of red candles of about 600g (1 kati) in weight, a dozen hen’s eggs, a box of mee suanh (rice vermicelli), rock sugar and the occasional leg of pork from adopted children. Friends presented almost the same items except the pig’s leg. I was kept busy the whole morning carrying the gifts into a room where grand-aunt had placed a mat on the floor for the items. It was my duty to arrange each item in neat groups on the mat. This was all too familiar for me because I had the same responsibility each time grandma celebrated her birthday. I knew that after the celebration was over, the candles would be taken to the nearest candle shop to be exchanged for the smaller household variety. The eggs would be used in making seraykaya (egg jam) while the rest of the items were distributed among friends and relatives. From ten in the morning onwards the guests, including grandma, began to arrive. The continuous greetings kept grand-aunt glued to her seat. I was rather amazed to see that grandma could make it so early. Normally she took so long to get dressed. Moreover, she had not even started dressing when we left the house. In the absence of eldest sister-in-law, grandma had recruited the help of Auntie Chye to help her comb her hair and to sew the three kerosangs to her dress. Grandma’s kerosangs were so big and heavy that they tended to fall off if only pinned on! With the arrival of guests it was the cue for the married lady helpers to begin work. For starters they had to serve ayer mata kuching (longan drink) as cherki

60 A NYONYA MOSAIC (a card game) groups were formed. All guests were considered important and their every gesture amounted to a command. Thus, helpers were kept busy, for under no circumstances were guests given occasion to find the service wanting. Any inattention could possibly give rise to unflattering comments about the function later on, which, of course, was the last thing a host wanted. Most Nyonyas chewed sireh (the odd man who joined in tended to be thought of as effeminate) and an adequate number of tempat sireh (sireh sets) and appropriate spittoons had to be borrowed from friends and relatives for the occasion. For those who sat at a table for their game of cherki, porcelain spittoons The tempat sireh is still well-utilised today. (Venue: the residence of the late Mr Tan Cheng Kee)

THE BIRTHDAY 61 were placed near their feet while those who sat on the floor for their card session had aluminium spittoons placed close to them. This cherki session was interrupted around noon when chicken macaroni soup was served as a prelude to lunch. Young unmarried helpers like sister Puteh and cousin Swee Neo would then serve water to the guests to rinse their mouths before the main meal. It was at this juncture that these young maidens came under very close scrutiny from would-be matchmakers or the real professionals. During lunch, guests were seated in two rows of ten facing each other at a long table. The food served, the laok mejah panjang, consisted of three types of dishes. Two or three dishes of each category were served as standard fare by the caterer while remaining dishes were left to the customer’s choice. The first type was the laok mangkok or soup dishes from which there was a choice from bakwan kepiting (crab and pork balls with bamboo shoot), hee pio soup (dried fish maw soup), perot babi (pig’s tripe soup), ayam sarang burong (chicken with bird’s nest soup) and buah keluak (Indonesian black nut with pork or chicken). The second category was the laok pingan besar or “food on large plates” which was made up of such dishes as babi panggang (roast pork, Hainanese style), mee suanh thau (rice vermicelli served at birthday celebrations only), hoo sit telor (scrambled egg fried with sharksfin), ayam roast (roast chicken), ayam curry (chicken curry), and sayor char (fried mixed vegetables). Lastly came the laok piring (food on medium plates) which consisted of side dishes such as udang sambal (spicy prawns), udang asam (fried prawns in tamarind), satay babi (spicy barbecued pork), achar (pickles), ikan goreng (fried fish), sambal jantong (banana heart with rich coconut milk), sambal timun (cucumber, meat and dried prawn salad), sambal blachan (toasted shrimp paste pounded with chillies), sambal serondeng (fried coconut in spices) and sambal nanas (pineapple in spices).

62 A NYONYA MOSAIC Since the table could seat a total of only twenty people at a time guests took their lunch in several sittings. Grand-aunt had invited many people that afternoon, so lunch was not over till late in the day. I had been unfortunate to be seated next to grandma. As a result I ended half as hungry as when I started. Among grandma’s reminders earlier in the day was that I should not eat too much lest it might create the impression that I was a greedy, ill-bred child. I was repeatedly warned not to stretch out for food but to wait for someone to serve me. This naturally resulted in my getting tiny portions because it was not considered proper in those days to take large portions. Grandma herself ate very little. She confined herself strictly to the dishes immediately in front of her and well within her reach for it was not becoming of a lady to stretch for food. There was really no need for anybody to do that since several sets of the same dishes were placed at regular intervals at the table all within easy reach of everybody. In a lunch such as this, where everybody observed such a rigid code of conduct, the experienced host knew that she should cater for a much smaller number of people than that invited. Otherwise there would surely be a lot of food left over. The moment our sitting had finished lunch, the helpers led us to a table nearby for dessert. This was the kueh chuchi mulot (cakes to wash the mouth with) which actually meant cakes to round up a meal. Just as the laok meja panjang was a collection of selected dishes, these were also selected cakes considered appropriate to the occasion. The most important of them was the red coloured kueh koo (glutinous rice flour cake with green pea paste) which was served especially at birthday celebrations. The remaining selection was chosen from cakes such as kueh dadar (coconut roll with coconut sauce), onde onde (glutinous rice flour balls), kueh sarlat (glutinous rice with custard topping), pulot seraykaya (glutinous rice with

THE BIRTHDAY 63 rich egg custard), kueh keledek (sweet potato cake), kueh lapis (rainbow layered cake), apom bokwah (pancake with gravy), and chai thau kueh (carrot cake). Surprisingly, amidst these cakes was a meat dish which was either sek ark (stewed duck), mohiang or ngohiang (minced pork roll) or sehnh wan lo (stewed pig’s ovary). On this particular occasion it was sek ark that was served. This was my favourite dish and when grandma had gone back to her card session, I returned to the kueh chuchi mulot to make up for the little I had to eat at lunch. Contrary to the code of conduct, I ate my fill. Around four in the afternoon, soft drinks were served. This was more or less a signal that in an hour it was time for the ladies to make way for the men who came for dinner. Among those who took their leave were grandma, sister Puteh and cousin Swee Neo. I stayed back at grand-aunt’s request to await father just as some close relatives stayed to wait for their husbands. It was during lunch, while she served the guests, that cousin Swee Neo attracted much attention. She was, by far, the most eligible among the anak daras present that day. At fifteen, she was a matchmaker’s dream: graceful, fair and attractive, the perfect age. Two years younger and she would not be ready and if eighteen, already considered not quite ideal. No wonder, then, that many guests took more than a passing interest in her. Among these was a certain distant relative, who because of her short stature, was known as Bibi Pendek. An inveterate semi-professional matchmaker, she had been an occasional guest at our house. However, since cousin Swee Neo and sister Puteh became eligible, grandma no longer permitted them to be seen by visitors who were not close relatives. Therefore, when Bibi Pendek saw what a lovely young lady cousin Swee Neo had become, she decided there and then that she had the perfect match for her. “I so happen to know a family with an

64 A NYONYA MOSAIC eligible son,” she claimed. And thus, quite simply, cousin Swee Neo’s fate was sealed on that day. The male guests began to arrive around seven-thirty. They immediately went into the house to congratulate grand-aunt before going to the garden where the dinner tables had been laid out. In contrast to the women-folk, the men-folk did not have to squat when they expressed their birthday greetings. They merely stood before her, lightly clasped their fists together, and bowed slightly. This was not unlike the gesture used when men prayed before altars to the gods. It amused me to think that living persons received almost the same form of greeting as the immortals. My two elder brothers came with father. But at dinner time both sisters-in-law did not join them because men and women were segregated during the meal. Ladies ate inside the house while their husbands took their food outside in the compound. Even at my young age grand-aunt did not think it proper that I should be with father and the menfolk. My place was with the ladies. Moreover, she was worried that the boisterous behaviour of the men when they succumbed to the effect of excessive alcohol might frighten me. Male relatives tended to drink heavily, especially those who had wives around to escort them safely home. However, both my brothers confined themselves to soft drinks because it would have been improper for them to get tipsy in front of father. If he had not been present, they would have thrown caution to the wind and got themselves stone drunk. Both of them were known to be heavy drinkers and their wives did not relish the thought of going home with them after a bout of drinking. Within a week of grand-aunt’s birthday, Bibi Pendek had completed some of the preliminaries of her matchmaking assignment. She had visited the prospective groom’s parents

THE BIRTHDAY 65 who were her friends and had successfully persuaded them to think of marriage for their son. “After all” she had said, “your young Baba is holding a steady job and ideal at the age of twenty-two.” She had assured them that they would not regret the decision. Bibi Pendek’s success actually came the moment she mentioned grandma’s name. She was well-known and highly respected in the Baba community and whatever doubts the young man’s parents might have had about the proposal immediately gave way to delightful consent. So Bibi Pendek was given the full mandate to go ahead and arrange the needful. For this she wasted no time and came to see grandma with the proposal. As expected of a matchmaker, Bibi Pendek was all praise for her friend’s son who, she reported, possessed all the desirable qualities of a prospective bridegroom. He held a steady job, she emphasised, earned a good salary and “does not play-the-fool like some young men do. No gambling, no drinking and also no womanising – the perfect husband”. Grandma herself was not unfamiliar with the groom-to-be’s family. She had heard of them through the grapevine and since there was no adverse gossip about them she too gave her consent to the match. Bibi Pendek was overwhelmed with delight and suggested the nearest auspicious day for her to bring her friend to meet grandma and to take a look at Swee Neo. A lucky date was selected in several ways depending on the occasion as well as its importance. One could go to a diviner to consult the almanac or go to a temple to choose a significant date, a full-moon day or a deity’s birthday. In this case Bibi Pendek had chosen the nearest full moon day to bring the young man’s mother to meet grandma. The day after Bibi Pendek’s visit, grandma summoned Swee Neo’s sister for an important discussion. On being told that

66 A NYONYA MOSAIC grandma had decided to arrange Swee Neo’s marriage, she was more than happy that grandma had decided to trouble herself over the matter. At her age she lacked the necessary experience for such a project and so gave grandma her blessing to take complete charge of the whole marriage process. I was not aware of the reason for Bibi Pendek’s visit nor the significance of Swee Neo’s elder sister’s meeting with grandma until later that night. While helping me with my embroidery eldest sister-in-law told me everything that had taken place the last two days. She added that at Bibi Pendek’s next visit, she would be accompanied by the young man’s mother who would be here to specially look at Swee Neo. All this, she made me promise to keep to myself. Strictly speaking, I was not even supposed to be in the know about such matters. In return for my promise eldest sister-in-law assured me that she would show me a vantage point from where I could view the proceedings without being detected. My excitement knew no bounds that night and it was so difficult to restrain myself from boasting to both sister Puteh and cousin Swee Neo about what I had learnt. As the days slowly drew closer to the full moon there was no indication that cousin Swee Neo was aware of what was in store for her in the very near future. I began to feel anxious and worry for her and told eldest sister-in-law so. Smiling, she assured me that Swee Neo would be told about the event and would be instructed on her role for that day in good time. The suspense of wondering if Swee Neo would really be told in time became almost unbearable. The urge to tell her everything became stronger and stronger and I had to keep fighting the temptation. Even on the eve of the event, cousin Swee Neo did not seem to know the better and in a moment of weakness, I broke my promise of silence and strongly urged her to seek

THE BIRTHDAY 67 eldest sister-in-law’s help and advice. Her reaction puzzled me; she didn’t even say a word but just patted my shoulder gently and walked away. I felt so let down by this apparent show of indifference that I turned to eldest sister-in-law for solace and to admit my indiscretion. She explained that cousin Swee Neo had behaved in the peculiar manner mainly because she was nervous. She had just been told, quite simply by grandma that there was to be an important guest the next day and that Swee Neo was expected to serve the drinks. Nothing more was said but needless to say, cousin Swee Neo straightaway understood the implication of the visit for this was a subject often discussed when anak daras met. After dinner that evening, cousin Swee Neo, under grandma’s instructions, was invited into eldest sister-in-law’s room to be tutored in her conduct. I sat quietly on the bed watching the whole proceeding. Cousin Swee Neo was told that unlike normal occasions where one should verbally invite the guest to drink. She should, for this occasion, serve the drink silently. “Remember that you must neither look sober nor flash a smile,” eldest sister-in-law counselled “just look and behave as naturally as possible.” The next day, the visitors arrived soon after lunch and were welcomed at the front hall of Rumah Tengah by grandma herself. Unknown to anyone, eldest sister-in-law and I were peeping from the tuition hall next door. Bibi Pendek’s friend was clearly overweight. Nudging me, eldest sister-in-law whispered in my ear, “Ini Bibi Bulat.” “Auntie Rotund” – what an appropriate name, I thought, and had to keep myself from laughing out loud. By then, grandma had led the visitors into the guest hall in Rumah Hylam where the crucial meeting was to take place. We snoopers followed at a discreet distance and out of sight, stationing ourselves by the door.

68 A NYONYA MOSAIC The conversation in the adjoining room was genteel and polite, each party surpassing the other with complimentary remarks. However, no direct reference was made to the purpose of the visit. It would have been inappropriate to do so. The small talk ceased almost abruptly when cousin Swee Neo entered the room carrying a cup of coffee. She wore a plain baju panjang and a matching sarong with a simple set of jewellery. Bibi Bulat smiled with approval at the tastefulness and naturalness of the outfit and grandma knew that she had made the right choice in selecting what cousin Swee Neo wore. Without a word, the drink was placed before the guest of honour. Cousin Swee Neo could not, of course, look at the lady but Bibi Bulat’s eyes were glued on her, studying critically her features, digesting her every gesture and movement. Cousin Swee Neo made two more appearances to serve Bibi Pendek and grandma their drinks. Those few moments must have seemed like an eternity to her but to the young man’s mother, cousin Swee Neo’s presence must have been all too brief. After all, she was choosing herself a daughter-in-law and a wife for her son. And she only had that one opportunity to make an assessment and make up her mind. After cousin Swee Neo had finished serving the drinks and left the room, grandma broke the silence by inviting the guests to take their drinks. Casual conversation was carried on for a suitable time and the visitors soon took their leave. The moment they left their seats, eldest sister-in-law and I ran upstairs as quickly as we could. I did not need to be told. Neither of us wanted to be seen by grandma anywhere near the scene. For the next two days, cousin Swee Neo remained quiet and tense. Even sister Puteh commented on the change in her mood. It was not difficult to understand the predicament she was in. If Bibi Bulat approved of her it would mean a step closer to

THE BIRTHDAY 69 marriage and the unknown that lay ahead. On the other hand, if she were rejected, all sorts of conclusions could be drawn and spread by gossip to the great detriment of her marriage prospects. She could do nothing but be anxious and wait. By tradition, the matchmaker would be the one to convey the message. A negative decision was usually accompanied with the excuse that after consultation with a deity the answer had not been favourable because it was ‘bukan jodoh’, meaning not a blessed love match. Fortunately, in Swee Neo’s case the lady had been impressed and it was a beaming Bibi Pendek who brought the glad tidings three days later. The next step was to prepare cousin Swee Neo’s pek ji essential to the remaining marriage process. The pek ji or horoscope was a red piece of paper upon which was recorded in Chinese characters a person’s name, the date, day and time of birth and the zodiac animal under which that person was born. Both the pek ji of the girl and the young man were required to be taken to a diviner to verify if the intended union would be a blessed and lasting one. If the horoscope reading turned out to be not favourable all the wedding plans would ·be cancelled. Nobody dared to risk defiance of a horoscope warning. Both parties would accept the decision in good grace and without hard feelings. After all, nobody was at fault and the outcome had been decreed by a force much more superior than mortal man. Every step of the marriage preparations had to occur on an auspicious day. Some of the steps were deemed more important than others and the days chosen had truly to be especially auspicious ones. The day for the collection of the girl’s pek ji did not have to be extra special and Bibi Pendek was requested to come in several days’ time to collect it. This interval served two purposes. Firstly, it gave us time to prepare Swee Neo’s pek ji and, secondly, it gave us the opportunity to check on the claims

70 A NYONYA MOSAIC made about the young man’s background. There had been many instances of grandiose claims that proved to be untrue and grandma was cautious. I was told that father went to a professional Chinese calligrapher the very next day to have Swee Neo’s horoscope written. The red piece of paper was subsequently carefully wrapped in a red silk handkerchief to await its collection by the matchmaker. Being Chinese at heart we regarded red as an auspicious colour and used it in most important events in our culture. Next, father enlisted the help of friends and relatives to check on the young man’s career and his personal character. Although it is said that the couple involved in a wedding in those days had no say in the matter, elders had their welfare at heart and no stone was left unturned every step of the way to ensure that the marriage would be a blessed one and that it would endure. If it was learned that the matchmaker had lied or had exaggerated her claims she would have been summoned and told that a deity had been consulted about the proposed marriage and proclaimed it not a blessed match. The whole affair would then be called off. Happily it turned out that Bibi Pendek had been truthful in her claims of the young man’s virtues and so cousin Swee Neo’s pek ji was handed over to her on the appointed day for the next and more crucial step in the early stages of a match-made marriage. On being handed the girl’s pek ji the young man’s parents made a bee-line to a diviner to check the compatibility of the young couple. The sinseh, as we addressed the diviner, was the renowned Tan Boon Cheng who was a household name in Baba circles because of his reputation for accurate readings of horoscope charts. In the case of cousin Swee Neo’s horoscope sinseh Tan announced a good reading when it was matched with that of the young man’s. Another crucial step had been

THE BIRTHDAY 71 surmounted but the good news did not reach us until three days later. This was because the pek jis were retained by the young man’s parents as another precautionary measure. If anything unusual and untoward had taken place in their household during those three days, the marriage plan would have to be reappraised. Fortunately nothing remotely resembling an ominous sign indicative of a divine warning had taken place and the pek ji was returned to us. Bibi Pendek in handing it back had a message for grandma from the young man’s parents. It was a suggestion that the wedding should take place on the eighth moon of the lunar calendar the following year, the exact day of the wedding to be decided in due course. After consultation with father, grandma gave her agreement for there would be ample time for actual wedding preparations. With this latest development, the road to the match was cleared of the last possible obstacle. Everyone in the house was excited at the coming wedding – except cousin Swee Neo. She showed the least enthusiasm, and every time I tried, she did hot seem to want to talk about her forthcoming wedding at all. I found this to be rather bewildering. Eldest sister-in-law later explained cousin Swee Neo’s attitude. While no one could deny that the elders had done everything possible within their power to ensure a good marriage for her, this did not in any way reduce the many uncertainties that faced her future. Not knowing what her intended husband looked like was just one of them. If his overweight mother was anything to go by, her prospect of having a handsome beau appeared very remote indeed. Moreover, after the wedding she would be moving into his household. What sort of treatment would be in store for her? In our family she was accepted as a girl with above average talent in domestic skills but would this measure up to her mother-in-

72 A NYONYA MOSAIC law’s expectations? Fat people were generally supposed to have an easygoing disposition. Would her overweight mother-in-law prove to be so? Would her husband permit her to keep in touch with her sister and our family or would he sever all connections? The questions could go on and on. Fortunately girls of cousin Swee Neo’s era were made of stern stuff. They accepted the uncertainties bravely, kept their anxieties to themselves and were not known to have gone to pieces over them. While cousin Swee Neo was apprehensive, grandma was beside herself with joy. She was delighted that her bringing cousin Swee Neo to grand-aunt’s birthday reception had paid such handsome dividends.

chapter four The Preparations ONE DAY DURING the fourth lunar month of the new year, matchmaker Bibi Pendek came to see grandma to inform her that the wedding day had been decided upon. By tradition it was the prerogative of the young man’s family to choose the date. They had again consulted sinseh Tan Boon Cheng who had chosen auspicious dates for the necessary pre-wedding rituals and the twelfth day of the eighth moon as the wedding day. Needless to say even the day when all these dates were made known to grandma, had to be auspicious. With the actual wedding date fixed, all activities in preparation for the big day began in earnest. The eighth month of the lunar calendar has always been the most popular month for weddings, other popular months being the fourth, tenth, eleventh and the twelfth moon. Sangkek ums, the all-important mistresses of ceremonies, were heavily booked throughout these months so grandma had taken no chances. The moment the two horoscopes had been found compatible she had contacted sangkek um Ah Bee and had engaged her services for a tentative date in the eighth moon the following year. For other customers, sangkek um Ah Bee might have demanded a downpayment but in this case, the question of a

74 A NYONYA MOSAIC deposit did not crop up at all. Afterall, it was grandma who had been instrumental in giving her a big boost when she started in her profession. With grandma’s exquisite jewellery at her disposal, she had outstripped her rivals in no time at all to become the number one sangkek um for a great many years. After Bibi Pendek had taken her leave grandma straightaway visited Ah Bee’s premises to make her choice of the various bridal costumes for hire. She brought both sister Puteh and I along with her. It was an unforgettable sight; such beautifully embroidered and colourful costumes they were. Cousin Swee Neo was very lucky in that fairly recently sangkek um Ah Bee had imported new sets of costumes from China. She had ordered them as replacements for those already the worse for wear through the many years of having been worn by numerous brides. The first costume grandma picked for cousin Swee Neo was the one she would wear during the chianh lang kek ceremony on the eve of the wedding when female guests were invited to lunch and to admire the bride. She chose a simple one with a pink background, for the chianh lang kek costume did not need to be the best one. The most outstanding costume was the one reserved for the hari kahwen or the wedding day. For this ceremony the costume had to be red. The costume for the third day ceremony was of the same design but purple in colour. Altogether grandma chose four gorgeous costumes. She was certainly seeing to it that although cousin Swee Neo was but a relative she was not being discriminated upon and was, in fact, being given the best. Grandma went as far as to arrange a wedding procession for cousin Swee Neo. The procession was actually optional and many had been married without it. A wedding without a procession was known as a kahwen dudok (a sitting marriage) probably because the couple did not walk in a procession.

THE PREPARATIONS 75 The celebrated sangkek um Ah Bee and a well-known female impersonator bride.

76 A NYONYA MOSAIC At this stage of her career sangkek um Ah Bee was already much sought after. She was in her prime and had the gift of producing beautiful brides with her make-up. Her professional fee included the loan of jewellery to adorn the wedding costumes but did not include the hiring of costumes and her assistant’s fee. In gratitude for the help that grandma had rendered her she charged a very nominal sum for cousin Swee Neo’s wedding. Not unexpectedly the young man’s parents also made use of her service. Somewhat similar to the bride’s needs, the groom required a costume for chianh lang kek, an optional costume of the same design but different colour for the hari kahwen and a final one for the procession. For the twelfth day ceremony modernisation had crept in by then and the traditional Chinese costume had been replaced by the western lounge suit. Normally, a bride-to-be began to be busily occupied sewing and embroidering as soon as her exact wedding day had been made known. She was expected to embroider a pair of slippers to be presented to her groom during the lap chai or exchange of gifts ceremony. In addition, she had to sew a couple more pairs for herself to decorate her bridal room. Some brides- to-be relished this moment when they could show off their needlework. Unfortunately, cousin Swee Neo took more to the kitchen than to stitchery. Although she did possess some skill, the standard demanded for a wedding was beyond her reach. Knowing this, grandma resorted to a more practical step: she purchased the items from a family that specialised in supplying such high quality products. The bride-to-be was also required to sew her own dresses, the baju Nyonya, for daily wear and the curtains for the bridal bed. Eldest sister-in-law came to her rescue with the curtains but due to time constraints she could not sew the dresses. They were eventually made by Indian tailors, the very ones who sold fighting kites as a sideline.

THE PREPARATIONS 77 Eldest sister-in-law was kept very busy sewing not only for the bride-to-be, but also for the other members of the household, for close relatives whom she could not tum down, and for herself. I really marvelled at her capacity to absorb work and her ability to complete the many tasks so quickly. Grandma was aware of the volume of sewing assignments that eldest sister-in-law was involved in and was not unsympathetic. She did her part by arranging for the bridal pillowcases to be purchased from a shop along Bras Basah Road instead of having them sewn at home. Along this same road was our family dentist. He was a local lad unlike most dentists of the neighbourhood who were Japanese. An appointment was arranged for cousin Swee Neo to have her teeth cleaned and filed for the wedding. In the old days when girls were kept strictly indoors, they were not permitted to visit the dentist even though they might be suffering from the most excruciating toothache. The dentist would have had to make a house call instead. They often obliged and would call with dental tools, leg-powered drilling machine and all. The cutting of the cloth for the all-important cheon thau ceremony (vowing ceremony) costume required a very auspicious day. Even the exact time to begin the job was carefully predetermined. This was the hari mengoyah which literally meant the day for tearing. It was really a day when a tailor went through the symbolic gesture of starting to work on the cheo thau dress. So much importance was attached to this ceremony that even the tailor’s horoscope had to be checked to ensure that he was not spiritually incompatible with the time of the ceremony or with the bride-to-be. I remember, in this instance, the time prescribed for the event was eleven in the morning. Long before the hour all the clocks in the house had been painstakingly synchronised, and as we waited for the tailor

78 A NYONYA MOSAIC to arrive grandma became noticeably tense as time wore on. Luckily the tailor was on time and did not keep her waiting long. This was one unhappy aspect we had to go through whenever there was an important function celebrated at home. Everyone was so determined that nothing should go wrong that tension reigned and an exciting event was often marred by bickering and a show of tempers. On the dot of eleven, a signal was given by grandma, and the tailor got up from his chair and moved to the table where the length of material and a pair of scissors had been placed an hour or so before. All the tailor did was to begin cutting a little of the cloth – with that the ritual ended on a successful note. After this formality, the tailor unceremoniously gathered the material in a bundle and took it back with him to complete the sewing in his shop. The bridal room was one of the focal points in a traditional wedding and grandma took great pains to make sure that nothing was left wanting in its decoration. It so happened that the couple who were to introduce father to opium later on had celebrated their daughter’s wedding two months back. By then we were already planning cousin Swee Neo’s wedding. So, when grandma sent her two granddaughters-in-law over as helpers, she instructed them to study the bridal room decorations closely so that when the time came for cousin Swee Neo’s wedding, grandma could decorate the bridal room better than theirs. Both sisters-in-law were repeatedly reminded that they should not miss any detail of the designs on the bed curtains because grandma did not want to repeat the same pattern for cousin Swee Neo. In order to compete with others grandma bought nothing but the best for her. About a week before the ann ch’ng (bed blessing) day, the bridal room was ready. I was rather taken aback when a

THE PREPARATIONS 79 few days before this I discovered that the beautifully carved wooden ranjang loksan would not be used for the wedding. I had always associated this bed with weddings and there were even people who knew it by the name of ranjang kahwen (wedding bed). It seemed that it was no longer fashionable to use this ornate bed and in its place a Victorian four-poster brass bed had been chosen. This brass bed was as beautiful as they come, but to my mind it was not in character with the carved wooden cupboard and furniture in the room. However, all my misgivings about this modem four-poster gave way to complete amazement and admiration the moment eldest sister-in-law had finished decorating it. The embroidered curtain round it, the embroidered bedsheet, the embroidered pillowcases and all the other trimmings that festooned the bed had transformed it into a most charming wedding bed. Close to this bed was a table which would play an important role on the marriage day but in the meantime was rather bare. Two chairs stood nearby. Both had embroidered covers on them and at the foot of each was a richly carved footstool with a velvet covering. The other chairs in the room were not as elaborately decorated but each of them had a piece of white lace covering the backrest and held in place with red ribbons tied into bows. During the Chinese New Year celebrations all the chairs in the sitting rooms were decorated in this manner. The windows and doorway of the room had new curtains on them. They had bows artistically folded into the shape of lotus flowers along their lengths. Hanging along the wall were square wooden shelves on which were put small China figurines for decoration. At one comer of the room could be seen all the bride’s footwear ranging from those for use at home to those for outings. There were several pairs of slippers and shoes all colourfully embroidered with gold thread. These had been so

80 A NYONYA MOSAIC strategically placed that for anybody entering the room they commanded immediate attention and admiration. A large exquisitely carved teakwood cupboard stood in a corner of the bridal chamber. The doors were kept ajar to show off the bride’s trousseau which was neatly arranged on the shelves. There were several piles of baju kebayas (kebaya dresses), sarongs, undergarments, and bolts of cloth placed quite deep in the cupboard leaving some space in the front portion of each shelf. These were filled with bottles of different brands and varieties of perfumes and toiletries. After the furnishing was done, grandma meticulously inspected the room and after a few minor adjustments and additions she was satisfied that everything was perfect. She then ordered the room be locked until further orders were given. About a fortnight before the wedding day, two experienced helpers were employed to deliver the wedding invitations. One of them was a lady whose racial background remains a mystery to me. She was a typical elderly Nyonya-looking lady with her baju panjang (long dress) and a flawless Baba tongue. She was rather dark complexioned and her big round eyes frightened me at times. It was her name that cloaked her in mystery. Wak Chik Mak Sabtu: the word ‘Wak’ is our respectful term for an elderly lady, ‘Chik’ is probably the abbreviation for kechik meaning small in stature or youngest in a family, ‘Mak’ is mother and ‘Sabtu’ literally Saturday in Malay but also a common name. Therefore, she was Wak Chik, mother of Sabtu – clearly a Malay name. There were so many possibilities to her racial background but we never found the real answer. It was popularly believed that she was a Javanese Chinese who had married a Malay man. The second person employed to distribute the invitations was Ah Meng, another ubiquitous Hainanese who was part of the Baba scene of that time.

THE PREPARATIONS 81 By the 1920s, western-style invitation cards had already got a toe-hold in our society. Father, however, preferred to stick to the tradition of hantar sireh (to send betel-vine leaf, a form of invitation which involved a tiny thinly sliced piece of areca nut wrapped in a small piece of sireh leaf and folded into a small triangular bundle and held in place by a sharp stick. From this act of handing over the tiny bundle of sireh one indicated an invitation to a wedding. Both Wak Chik Mak Sabtu and Ah Meng had moved intimately in our society for so long that they became a walking directory of the Baba community. There was even no need to provide them with a guest list. They were so familiar with so many families that they knew who to invite when called to deliver the invitations. All they needed was the date of the event. It was alleged that in some cases they were so up to date with social developments in the Baba community that they even knew who not to invite! On the day for the distribution of the sireh bundles Wak Chik Mak Sabtu, who also prepared them, passed about half to Ah Meng. She placed her portion in a small round silver container which she wrapped in a red handkerchief. Thus equipped, she was ready to go inviting. Ah Meng and Wak Chik Mak Sabtu took separate routes to cover different parts of the island but their modus operandi was the same. On reaching a particular house they announced that they had come to hantar sireh on behalf of so-and-so whose son, daughter or dependent was to be married on such-and- such a date. Having said this a sireh bundle was handled to the person who had received them at the door. Their parting words were another reminder to attend the function. Their choice of words differed somewhat. Ah Meng usually said ‘towkay mak mesti pergi, tau’ (mistress of the house, you are expected to go,

82 A NYONYA MOSAIC you know). In contrast, Wak Chik Mak Sabtu was brief with her ‘Pergi, tau’ (do go). I know their exact words because on those occasions when other families had employed them to go round issuing invitations they had come to our house to invite grandma using these very same words. Both of them monopolised this profession for many years. In the case of cousin Swee Neo’s wedding they were employed by the groom’s family as well to convey their invitation. Travelling on foot and by rickshaws they took two days to cover our guest list. In the years past, the majority of families did their own cooking for wedding receptions held at home. Special days were set aside for preparing the spices and other raw ingredients for cooking on a large scale when relatives willingly came forward to volunteer their services. We did not observe this ritual for cousin Swee Neo’s wedding as we had contracted a caterer to prepare the food. Unlike the sangkek um who had to be booked early, there was no hurry where a caterer was concerned. A caterer could cope with many contracts because it was a simple matter of hiring more hands to work under his general supervision. A sangkek um could not do likewise. The dressing up of a bride needed her very special personal attention. There were several well-known Hainanese caterers, but the two most popular ones were Ah Kew and Ah Seow. The former was the older of the two and had been in the business for a long time while the latter was an up and coming addition to the profession. There was little to choose between them but on this occasion grandma’s choice fell on young Ah Seow. Such unique services which Ah Meng, Wak Chik Mak Sabtu and the food caterers provided would never come our way again. In the days before high-pressure advertisements these caterers of old had their own promotion technique that was rather effective. When grandma last celebrated her birthday Ah

THE PREPARATIONS 83 Seow had been recommended to her by a friend as an up-and- coming caterer whose food was above par. Grandma decided to try him out. A few days after the event when he came to collect his fees he brought along a generous helping of hee pia soup (dried fish maw soup) as a gift to our family, partly as a gesture of thanks and partly to ensure that he left a good impression on us so that we may remember him the next occasion we required a caterer. This gesture had the desired effect. Ah Seow was to remain a popular caterer among the Babas till he retired. After months of expectation and preparation the wedding took another step closer with the lap chai ceremony. It was akin to the parting of the curtain at a bangsawan (Malay opera) to signal the start of a long awaited drama. This ceremony involved the exchange of gifts between the two families about ten days before the hari kahwen or Marriage Day. I had gone to bed early the previous night in order to be up early for this first of several pre-marriage day ceremonies. At the appointed hour of eleven in the morning a retinue comprising of six elderly ladies left the groom’s residence for our house bearing four tray-loads of gifts. In all the activities and events at a wedding, strong emphasis was placed on the active participation of elderly ladies in the hope that the various events would be as much blessed as these elderly folks had been blessed with many years of life. Some of our relatives had come early in order to be present when the gifts arrived. On arrival, the group bearing the four large brass trays were entertained to a simple tea. I squeezed myself as unobtrusively as I possibly could to the front in order to get a good view of the gifts. Three of the four trays were each lined with a beautiful embroidered cloth. On one tray was a wedding dress to be worn on the twelfth day. It was a green coloured costume of the same design as the pink one grandma had hired from the sangkek um

84 A NYONYA MOSAIC for the chianh lang kek ceremony. The next item on the tray was a pair of shoes which matched the green dress. The second tray contained two diamond rings and two ang pows (red packets with money inside). This tray was lined along its circumference with silver coins with a red dot on each of them. Eldest sister- in-law subsequently explained to me that one of the ang pows contained wang tetek and the other, wang belanja. The wang tetek (breast money) was a gift expressing thanks to the bride’s parents for having weaned her and this ang pow was graciously accepted by the bride’s parents or guardians. The wang belanja was a pure offer of money. It was not expected of us or any parent for that matter to take this red packet. To take it was tantamount to selling off one’s daughter. The third tray had two pairs of candles on it: one pair with an intricate paper- cut of a dragon pasted on it and the other pair had a similarly intricate phoenix. The last tray was lined with red paper and there was a leg of pork and two bottles of Three Star Brand brandy. These were presumably meant to be consumed at the two dinner tables contributed by the groom’s parents on the eve of the marriage day at the bride’s house. Our relatives helped to carry the trays inside. I was hard on their heels in order to see how we reciprocated these gifts. The contents of the first tray were exchanged for a pair of men’s slippers which should have been sewn by the bride but in this case was purchased by grandma. The second item was a fan for the groom to carry during the procession. It was neatly wrapped in a red silk handkerchief. The two diamond rings and the wang tetek were removed from the second tray leaving the wang belanja. In their place a diamond ring tied to a silk handkerchief, a silver belt and a gold belt buckle were placed on the tray. The silver coins with the red dots remained untouched. The pair of candles bearing the dragon design was removed and

THE PREPARATIONS 85 replaced with a pair of unadorned red candles. As for the pig’s leg in the fourth tray, only a piece was taken and the remaining left in the tray. The two bottles of brandy were replaced with a dozen oranges. After the four trays were returned to the groom’s retinue, they bade us leave and carried our gifts back to the groom’s family. Because of the presence of the rings in the exchange of gifts the lap chai ceremony was akin to an engagement in western custom. Our relatives who had come early to witness the ceremony had done so mainly to note the quality of the rings that had been exchanged in order to gauge the financial status of the groom’s family. Those who did not witness the ceremony, of course, wasted no time in contacting those who did for a first-hand account. When other weddings were celebrated the quality of the rings involved in the lap chai was similarly the main topic of conversation in our house for a long period afterward. The rings which cousin Swee Neo received were of very good quality. Everybody in the house felt that cousin Swee Neo was lucky to have married into such a financially secure family. During the course of the excited conversation about the exquisite items the groom’s family had presented the bride someone remembered Bibi Pendek and said that she had truly done a good matchmaking job. In the light of our old tradition when girls were kept virtually under lock and key, most of them would have remained unmarried had it not been for the existence of amateur and professional matchmakers. Unfortunately, in later years when we were discarding our old ways some of us not only totally rejected the matchmaking concept for our children but even went as far as to condemn the matchmakers as an unscrupulous lot who were out for nothing else but monetary reward. While admittedly there were failures in a few of the arranged

86 A NYONYA MOSAIC marriages, in general the accusations against the matchmakers were unfounded. Their monetary gain was in fact not much. After a wedding was over a matchmaker was generally rewarded with a leg of pork, two bottles of brandy and an ang pow; one set of each from the groom’s and the bride’s parents. There was no fixed rate for the ang pow and it was left to the generosity of grateful families. However, I was told that it usually contained $24, not too large a sum. Matchmakers had played a useful role and had little opportunity to be unscrupulous. They were merely instrumental in the preliminary arrangements in the attempt to bring couples together for life but were never in any position to make the final decision of marriage. To the best of my knowledge they had always respected our beliefs. For example, no matchmaker had been known to attempt to match a widow and a bachelor. The deterrent factor could have been the fear of the curse brought about by a mother’s tears if her son were to be matched to a widow. Other taboos like matching a widower with an anak dara and a widower with a widow were also respected by the majority of matchmakers. Another situation that was strictly avoided was involvement in arranging a Baba girl to end up as a secondary wife or a concubine to a married man. With very few exceptions the majority of parents would rather their daughters remain unmarried than end up blakang kerosi (behind the chair) as that fate was called. It was believed that in the world of the after-life there were two chairs awaiting every married couple. There was no seat for the additional wife – her place was to stand behind the chairs. Besides the professional matchmakers there were many amateurs who indulged in matchmaking for the sheer love of bringing people together in marriage. These amateurs were ever on the look out for sons or daughters of their friends and relatives who they could match. When these amateurs

THE PREPARATIONS 87 could not be of help, parents turned to their last hope, the more experienced professionals. Like grandma, parents often introduced young and not so young daughters at relatives’ birthdays and wedding functions in the hope of catching the attention of a wider circle of matchmakers. Another occasion when daughters were more or less paraded for the benefit of matchmakers was on the sixteenth night of Chinese New Year when parents brought their children along to pray at the temple at Telok Ayer. Many a maiden had been rescued from a life of spinsterhood by such excursions. The ann ch’ng ceremony took place soon after the lap chai, five days before the marriage day which had also been pre- determined as an auspicious one for this ceremony. The ann ch’ng involved the blessing of the bridal bed. Months before this day a young lad in his early teens had been carefully selected from our circle of relatives for the important task to be performed during the ceremony. The boy had to satisfy two criteria. It was highly desirable that he was a relative’s son and imperative that both his parents should be alive and well. On the appointed day sangkek um Ah Bee came early to perform a short ritual where she placed gold offering paper under the bed and then said a short prayer to the guardian spirit of the bed. When the appointed time came, the boy was made to lie down at one end of the bed. The mistress of ceremony then assisted him in rolling to the other end of the bed, back to his original position again and once more to the other end. In all the boy rolled three times on the bed and for his effort he earned himself an ang pow plus an appreciative audience. I had to control myself from bursting out laughing because when the boy got down from the bed he appeared to be a bit unsteady on his feet. He definitely looked groggy to me. For those who had turned up to witness this ceremony it

88 A NYONYA MOSAIC was a case of killing two birds with one stone. They had come to see the bed-rolling ritual as well as to be among the first to have a look at the bridal chamber. By this time enough pre-wedding ceremonies and rituals had taken place to fuel gossip and conversation sessions. However, there was yet one more ceremony to come which excited the lady folks a lot. This took place two days before the marriage day. Eldest sister-in-law did not satisfactorily explain to me why everyone seemed so excited about this ceremony and all she would tell me was that I would understand in good time. This ceremony was the berandam which involved the ritual combing of the bride’s hair. In the mid-afternoon of that day sangkek um Ah Bee arrived. She started by combing a fringe for cousin Swee Neo and then carefully trimming it nearly. I was to learn later on that a knowledgeable and experienced sangkek um was reputedly able to tell if a bride was a virgin or not during this ritual. It seemed that if the hairline along the forehead refused to respond to the comb but tended to curl, then it was indicative of the bride’s loss of innocence. The sangkek um ended by tying some hair at both ends of the fringe with a piece of white ribbon. We called this ikat cheng tong – the white colour of the ribbon symbolising purity. These ribbons were taken off that night but the fringe on the forehead remained throughout the rest of the wedding ceremonies. There were brides who had been known to retain this symbol of virginity until after the birth of their first child!

chapter five The Big Event THE CEREMONY FOLLOWING the berandam was chianh lang heh or Guests’ Day, celebrated on the eve of the marriage. This was the day cousin Swee Neo was finally to don her bridal costume. Excitement got me out of bed well before the arrival of the sangkek um. As soon as she arrived she went about dressing up the bride in the pink costume which grandma had picked. With confidence borne out of the well-earned reputation of being the best in her profession, sangkek um Ah Bee transformed cousin Swee Neo before our very eyes. When she had finished there was a gasp of admiration from those privileged to watch. Cousin Swee Neo was no longer the young playful cousin I knew. She was not even sister Puteh’s contemporary any longer. She was a mature person now. As a bride she was as shy and as beautiful as a dream bride of old should be. There she sat, on one of the chairs by the bridal bed, her hands resting coyly on her lap and her feet lightly on the velvet covered footstool. Nor did she smile, but as instructed by the sangkek um, cousin Swee Neo kept sober and cast her eyes downward as she sat in her full glory waiting for the guests to come and admire her.

90 A NYONYA MOSAIC Time seemed to rush by that morning. By a quarter past ten our house was already filled with people. The early arrivals were close relatives bent on being the first to see the bride. They were followed by the volunteer helpers, made up of married and unmarried women from various families. I noticed that the unmarried ones were dressed more elaborately than their married sisters. The reason was obvious. After all, cousin Swee Neo’s marriage was made at a party where she had been sent as a volunteer worker. I had no doubt that a number of them were, in turn, matchmade at our function. The last to arrive were friends of grandma. They brought gifts of fruit carried in the popular red and black lacquer baskets known as the bakol sianh After exchanging greetings and congratulating grandma on her grandniece’s wedding they were served with longan drink before being invited upstairs to have a look at the bride and the bridal chamber. The guests, who arrived all morning and afternoon, were female. The room soon became crowded and stuffy. With so many people moving in and out, I could well imagine how uncomfortable the bride felt. Surprisingly she seemed none the worse for the experience despite having several layers of clothes on. I did not believe that the slow fanning of the sangkek um’s assistant could help in any way relieve her of the heat in the room. This assistant, or the bukak kun, was a sharp contrast in age to sangkem um Ah Bee. She was as old and slow as Ah Bee was energetic and in her prime. Many had claimed that it was usual for a sangkek um to have an elderly assistant so that the latter could never pose a serious threat as a rival in the future. After the guests had left the bridal chamber, cousin Swee Neo was led to another room to take a rest in anticipation of the many non-stop strenuous ceremonies and rituals to follow.

The bride is assisted by the sangkek um. Likewise the

THE BIG EVENT e groom has his Boyanese pak chindek to help him. 91

92 A NYONYA MOSAIC The guests had in the meantime formed themselves into several cherki groups and wasted no time in starting their card game sessions. An hour or so before lunch they were served with a bowl of chicken macaroni soup each. The menu for lunch was, as usual, made up of selections from the laok meja panjang. Similarly, the kueh chuchi mulot which followed lunch was of the standard fare – except that on this particular occasion grandma had served an additional cake known as kueh peria (bittergourd cake). This was a kueh about 4 cm (1.5 inches) long made of green pea flour. These bittergourd shaped cakes were differently coloured and were served with grated coconut. I have not seen these cakes since. As no Baba wedding of the era was complete without the Malay joget (dance) and the singing of dondang sayang (Malay repartee sung in quatrains) father had arranged for the lunchtime guests to be entertained by a troupe. This particular troupe had brought along only female dancers and singers to appropriately entertain the all female guests at lunch. Thus, during the joget the female dancers danced with one another. At functions where menfolk were present the joget was definitely popular as it gave the Babas the opportunity to dance with the lovely dancing girls. In spite of this the joget was never as closely associated with Baba culture as dondang sayang. However, few Babas could really sing the dondang sayang that well and at anyone party the number of Babas who could genuinely engage in a session of singing impromptu replies was limited. There were many who knew several common pantons (Malay quatrains) and could sing them to the dondang sayang tune but this was far from what it really was all about. Anyway, on that day during the troupe’s performance there was hardly an audience to appreciate it as the guests were at the card session. A few of the guests who were not at cards joined me to watch the

THE BIG EVENT 93 joget dancing but when the singing of dondang sayang started I stopped watching because I could not understand most of what was being sung. Due to the fact that I had got up early that morning I made up for it by napping in the afternoon. By the time I woke up it was evening and the afternoon guests were beginning to leave. I was happy that I had slept enough so that I could stay up to witness several exciting events that were to take place late that night. Just after six-thirty the members of the seroni band began to arrive. This band played an important role in our culture. Their presence was essential at weddings as well as at funerals, without its music most of the rituals would not have their flavour and solemnity. The band that had come to our house was led by Bah Yam, a renowned seroni band leader. His band consisted of five musicians one of whom was a Malay man, the rest being Chinese. Among them they shared instruments such as the seroni which was a Chinese clarinet which came in two sizes, a bamboo flute which we called the suilin, a big drum, a smaller drum, a pair of cymbals, and a gong. Father stood by the main door to welcome the male guests who were mostly his friends. The moment after a few guests had arrived the seroni band started to play and continued until all the guests were seated. The music was rendered by the seroni besar, the big clarinet, accompanied by the big drum, the smaller drum, the cymbals and the gong. When the last guest had been seated the band switched to music which was led by the seroni kechik, played in ensemble with the smaller drum, the bamboo flute and the cymbals only. The seroni kechik melody was also the cue for the bride in her room to belajar sohja (to learn to pay obeisance) which was in actual fact a full-scale tuition on how to be a traditional bride

94 A NYONYA MOSAIC under the expert guidance of the sangkek um. Woe betide the slow learner if her sangkek um happened to be an impatient and short-tempered mentor. Besides scolding the nervous bride some sangkek ums had been known to have pinched them for every mistake they made. Fortunately for cousin Swee Neo sangkek um Ah Bee did not belong to this fierce category of sangkek ums. When I saw that most of the guests had arrived I rushed upstairs to the bridal room before the start of the seroni kechik and was lucky to be allowed into the room. At my age most elders found me cute and tended to pamper me and so, not surprisingly, I was not chased out from the bridal room for this rather private affair. To the plaintive strains of the belajar sohja, cousin Swee Neo went through her paces of paying obeisance to man and God. ‘In addition she was coached in the correct swaying gait becoming of a bride. Finally she was led to the table close to the bed where empty bowls and plates had been placed and she had to learn the actions of taking food with her groom at the same table the next day. Cousin Swee Neo was a fast learner and was graceful in her movements much to the satisfaction of her tutor. Long after she had completed her lessons the seroni kechik was still being played. It only stopped when dinner was over and the guests had begun to take their leave. Unlike the afternoon’s female guests who were invited to see the bride the male guests at night were not accorded the same privilege. Of the many ceremonies performed at a traditional wedding the most important, sacred and solemn one was the cheon thau or the vowing ceremony. This ceremony was normally performed between 11pm and 5 am the next day. Cousin Swee Neo’s cheon thau was predetermined to be at 11:30 pm sharp. Had I not taken my afternoon nap I would not have been allowed to stay up to witness the rituals. Both the bride and her bridegroom

THE BIG EVENT 95 went through the rites at the same appointed time but at their respective homes. Prior to this ceremony a two-tiered altar had been set up at both houses. This was the very holy sam kai altar dedicated to Ting Kong (God of Heaven, Earth and Moon). The back of this altar faced the doorway and its front directly opposite the family altar to the Gods. In between the two altars was an empty space specially reserved for conducting the cheon thau. The offerings on the sam kai table consisted of tea, flowers and lime. There were two glass lamps close to the offerings. Great pains were taken to see that the flames from these lamps, once lit, should not go off during the wedding. Occupying a central position on the altar was a richly carved wooden stand known as the chanab on which was stuck five beautifully decorated sticks. The decorations were made with young papaya cut into shapes of flowers and leaves alternating with a roundish red fruit known as lemo kek ya. There were, of course, two large candles on stands on this altar. Under the altar three tiles had been placed, two lying side by side with their concave sides facing the floor and the last tile with its concave side facing up resting atop the other two. Upon this last tile, kayu chinana was burned for its very aromatic scent. Placed on the floor between the sam kai and family altars was a large round bamboo tray, the nyeru, the centre of which was painted a red circle about a quarter of the tray’s diameter. On this red spot a wooden tub was placed mouth upwards and covered by a red cloth. We called this tub the gantang. Before undergoing this sacred ceremony cousin Swee Neo had to take a bath. She was then dressed in the all-white cheon thau dress and trousers which signified purity. Ten minutes or so before the ceremony the seroni besar struck up the Pasang Lilin as the candles at the sam kai, the household god’s and the ancestral altars were lit. I rushed downstairs the moment

96 A NYONYA MOSAIC I heard the seroni playing and was in time to see father, being cousin Swee Neo’s guardian, solemnly lighting the candles. After paying obeisance at the altars he went upstairs to lead cousin Swee Neo down for the cheon thau. This ceremony was considered so important that great pains had been taken to check with the diviner the horoscopes that were not compatible with this particular ceremony so that neither the onlookers nor the bride would suffer the grave consequences of defying the warning. I had an uncle who had to continually avoid being present at such a ceremony because he was born in the year of the tiger and it was strongly believed that the tiger could never be in harmony with such a holy ceremony. There were others who believed equally that those born under the monkey year shared the same disharmony as the tiger. Fortunately, I was given the green light to witness this ceremony. At the appointed hour sharp, cousin Swee Neo stepped into the nyeru to sit on the cloth-covered open end of the gantang. She sat facing the sam kai altar. As I was looking intensely at the goings-on I became aware that there were a few whose horoscopes had been declared safe who, nevertheless, turned their gazes away from the bride as she stepped into the nyeru in order to be doubly sure of avoiding any untoward side effects. The same young boy who had rolled on the wedding bed during the ann ch’ng ceremony was enlisted for this ceremony too. He was known as the koo ya or page boy. To the accompaniment of the seroni kechik the sangkek um handed the koo ya several objects which he in turn either handed to the bride or used to perform specific rituals. First cousin Swee Neo was handed the Book of Fate which she placed on her lap as the sangkek um loosened her hair. A Chinese scale was next handed to the koo ya who carried it above the bride’s head and lowered it slowly downward towards her feet as a reminder that she