my i gong, ah ma, ah gong and popo

Since my paternal grandfather passed away many years ago, we’ve spent almost every first day of Chinese New Year at my maternal grandparents’ house. There’s no one to visit in my late paternal grandparents’ house; the only one living there is my uncle. Besides my dad is the eldest child in his family; a son to boot. He’s a bit of a stickler when it comes to family hierarchy, so he does not believe in going to his younger siblings’ houses before they come visit him in his own house. A bit odd for someone who doesn’t really give two hoots about other traditions and customs. We are talking about a man who doesn’t believe in the afterlife, and who sat on other graves while we were cleaning up my late grandmother’s grave.

“Dad, why are you sitting on other people’s graves?”
“They died already what.”

I spent a lot of my childhood in both my paternal and maternal grandparents’ houses. The former lived above a shop house in the middle of town, where the upstairs section is divided into three rooms for three families. All relatives, extended cousins or the other. My late grandfather was a barber; I was later told that it was a very Foo Chow trade. My uncles (dad’s cousins) were barbers and food hawkers. One also sold newspapers and magazines, while the other had a small jewellery stall. At the back of the barber shop is a dining area with three tables for three families. Beyond that is a kitchen — three sinks, three refrigerators and three cupboards for three families. I remember that it wasn’t ‘cool’ to borrow another family’s plate or utensils, even though we were all living under one roof.

My late grandmother was a very capable woman. She was not educated, but she was sharp and quick on the uptake. She was also kind, and boy could she cook! When I was back at home last week, my dad told me (in so many words) that my late grandmother was the glue of the family. She was the one who insisted on having a grand birthday celebration for my late grandfather every year. I don’t remember how it was done when I was very young, but when I got older, those birthday celebrations meant hosting a few tables at a nearby Chinese restaurant. Us kids had it good as well; come our birthdays, she’d cook up a feast of all our favourites — fried chicken, jelly, the works. I remember looking at the calendar as a kid, very excited when 22nd nears, then feeling crushed when I was laughing informed that it wouldn’t be my birthday that month. Or the next month. Or the month after that, until September.

I was not close with my late grandfather as we didn’t speak the same language. The only person he’d talk to was my dad (apparently he didn’t talk much with his other kids either). I remember that he would put on a clean white short-sleeved shirt over his white singlet, then go for long walks around town. He was never the same person after my grandmother passed away. It stuck in my mind because I remember his almost instant transformation from healthy to frail and fragile. And very sad. The one and only intimate moment we had was a couple of years later when he wistfully said to me, “If only your ah ma was here…” When he passed away a few years later, everyone got the feeling that he was more than happy and willing to go.

My maternal grandparents live in Sri Gading, a small village about 13km away from Batu Pahat town. It is very different from my paternal grandparents’ house as there is no hustle-bustle, and there are plenty of grass and trees. I used to follow my grandmother to the chicken coop where she’d gather fresh eggs for our breakfast. Actually I did that only a couple of times for I was deathly afraid of the hen. Can’t imagine why she was so vicious 😉

There was a big mangosteen tree near the chicken coop and we’d climb it to get the fruits, or just for fun. There was a big rambutan tree near it; it got chopped down years ago. There was another rambutan tree at the back of the house; I suppose it got chopped down too. A few houses after my grandparents’ was a massive oil palm tree plantation. My uncle used to take us kids on his motorbike for a tour around the plantation. It was one of the things we looked forward to when he came home from work.

Everyone in Sri Gading knew my grandfather. After all, he was the village headman for many years. This is the same grandfather who has a road named after him which I didn’t know until my aunt blogged about it. Incidentally I also found out that my grandfather was captured by the Japanese for a bit from her blog. Which reminds me, I need to sort out the short documentary I meant to compile about my grandfather soon. Apparently he was pretty excited about it.

First day of CNY '09 - Ah Gong
A pensive grandfather on the first day of Chinese New Year ’09

Of all my grandparents, I’m closest with my maternal grandmother. She used to make me Milo and two half-boiled eggs for breakfast when I was a kid. She used to make the best bak zhang until a few years ago when she had to reduce the salt in it for health reasons. She makes awesome pickled seaweed with vinegar, which in my opinion is the best snack ever. I suppose it’s true that the way to anyone’s heart is through the stomach.

First day of CNY '09 - Popo
My popo cleaning up the offerings to the Gods on the first day of Chinese New Year ’09

Amazingly how much I can ramble on, eh? My original intention was to show you the two photos above that I took of my grandparents during Chinese New Year.