Tuesday, July 12, 2011

The story of my grand parents

I had a brief and casual conversation with my uncle on how life was like after my grandparents had come all the way from China. I want to record down here for future reference. My grandpa was from a more educated background whose ancestry ran a Taoist funeral rites business for many generations in China. One must be literate and possess a good language command skill to read and also write with good Chinese calligraphy for the many paperwork that needs to be professionally carried out in a funeral proper. That was the business passed down and earned a reasonably good living even in Malaysia at a later stage for my dad. When grandpa first arrived here in Malaysia, he stayed near an area, the present Eastern Garden of Kampar. He cut firewood from the nearby jungles for a living together with my grandma. My grandma was brought over to Malaya by her brother at a later stage to join my grandpa.  I was told my grandma's brother was well-to-do and he used to run a coal or iron ore mine somewhere in Kuala Lumpur. He left peninsula Malaya and returned to China, never settled down as a citizen in this country; we lost contact thereafter though I tried hard to trace back the root of my grandma in China but to no avail.

My uncle recollected bits and pieces of how he used to help in carrying and placing those firewood into the kitchens of customers. Firewood was cut and chopped into pieces and lined up for sales in the market place waiting for customers. Life was very tough then especially for my grandpa who had never done such manual hard labor work before.

During the period when Japanese occupied peninsula Malaya, they started  recruiting people to build the infamous railways of death in Thailand. My grandpa actually had taken up the offer and received the advanced salary from the Japanese and got ready for the journey to Thailand. My grandma was strongly against the idea and she insisted that through thick and thin of life, all family members must always stay closely together. My grandpa eventually was convinced and declined the offer; and the money was subsequently returned to the Japanese recruitment agency. They stayed on in the same township in its surrounding areas for many more years though life was never easy for them as migrants to a strange land. I was touched by this story told by my uncle many years later and I greatly respect and thank this wise decision made by my grandma. If not for her wisdom, I would not even have a chance to see the face of my grandpa after I was born. He was such a loving person that I still miss him very much since his death while I was in primary 3. I only managed to spend approximately 9 memorable good years with him. How I wish I could spend a much longer period of time with him more before he left us.

One of my grandpa's brother followed him to Malaya and I was told one version of the story that he drank unboiled water that resulted in him contracting a certain illness that caused his death. Another version was that during Japanese occupation, food was scarce and he developed some bad wounds perhaps due to malnutrition and also lack of medical supplies that had taken a toll on him. Till the day of his death he was single and it was a sad story of him to die in this manner. I heard he was a likable person that he used to bring my dad and uncle to barber shops for their hair cut. I had never got a chance to meet him personally other than visiting his tomb. I was told that one of my nephews looks like him, that is all the impression or imagination that I could have about him.

Life was very much improved after my dad and aunt had learnt the newly introduced skill of rubber tapping. At that time to acquire the skill of tapping rubber was really a big thing and few people actually had that skill. (Rubber tapping was at a later part became such a common skill that no longer could command that kind of income) Both of them earned a fairly lucrative combined income by the standard of that time. My dad bought a brand new bicycle with the hand switching gear version equivalent to that of today mountain bike. That was the bicycle he used to court my mom who worked in a sundry shop under the name "Chop Kong Beng Kee" , the owner's wife happened to be my mom's cousin sister.

My grandpa continued to work in a French owned tin mine company half way between Mambang Diawan and Kampar, an area called "SEK". On his way home after work, he rode his bicycle to Kampar town and bought me gold fishes and angel fishes. I developed the interest of aquarium fish keeping through him and his loving kindness until today.  And he always brought me and my siblings on his big bicycle for breakfast in the market place.

At the later stage of his working life in the mine, his health deteriorated as he aged over the years. He dozed off one day on duty while taking charge of the tin mine "palong"  (For those who do not know what a palong is, please refer to this:  http://www.ipohworld.org/blog/?p=874) and the tin ore overflew from its proper storage area. I suppose he was apprehended and then was transferred to another division as a form of demotion!

I used to see him dozing off at the corner of the house easily and that symptom lasted for some years. And during his last few years with us, he had a chronic stomach pain which could be quelled only through some dosage of opium. He was subsequently admitted to Tapah hospital. We visited him once with my 3rd brother coming along. This was the first time that my 3rd brother started to call him "Grandpa" after some years he thought he was born dumb (Actually he was just a slow learner, relatively speaking amongst my siblings as far as speaking is concerned). He was exhilarated to hear from my 3rd brother and he appeared to be very well at that time.  But suddenly the next day his health took a sharp turn and he was pronounced beyond any medical cure possible. They took off his oxygen and he died in a truck on the slope of the little path just about reaching home. The night of his funeral was filled with the howling of the owls that marked one of the saddest day of my life!

If I ever have a chance to speak to him again, I would like to say " Grandpa I love you very much!"

4 comments:

  1. Martin; it is indeed a great family story. A part of your history. I did enjoy reading it and it reminded me of the journey my late dad took to give us the education that what made me today.

    Thanks and do have a nice day.

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  2. Thank you Pak Idrus for visiting and giving comments. For what our parents and grandparents had toiled and sacrificed, we are what we are today.

    May God always bless you to enjoy good health and happy family everyday of your life.

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  3. Great story, Martin. Yes, you should tell your children and their children about it so that they value the sacrifices of their forefathers.

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  4. Thank you Azimah, sometimes we write on a blog is also to use it as an archive of records for our children or future generations to read and understand. Provided of course the service provider does not stop this site and erase all the content.

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