Victor's Travel, Health and Eating blog: November 2010

Pic: first of 15 pages

In the mid-summer of 1975, I, together with my younger brothers Jiao, Zhi and Li, solemnly and sincerely reburied my late parents’ bones and ashes at the Chinese cemetery in Temerloh. With this we have finally fulfilled our wishes for several years. “The waters in Pahang flow, the mountains are beautiful”, the scenery where our late parents was born were indeed pretty; this was the place where my late parents lived, with beautiful scenery and plenty of relatives and friends. Now that both of them are resting together eternally, they perhaps could console themselves that regretfully they weren’t together while they were alive due to circumstances.

My late father Wei Kou, also known as Shun Shi, was the youngest son of my grandfather “Xiang Nan”, the 21st generation descendent, who lived in an old house passed down from generations, at the rear end of “Zhang Xi (Creek) 漳溪, in the district of Dapu in Guangdong Province. As the other 4 sons of my grandfather Xiang Nan, the eldest, second, third and fourth have all passed away earlier on, the only one who carried on the family line was my late father.

Towards the end of Qing dynasty, the farms were torn and tattered. Our family was traditionally farmers, we were tenant farmers. Due to the high rent and heavy taxes, even though we toiled all year round, we could only have sufficient food for 3 months. The rest of the income depended on my late father, who worked as a hawker. Since my late mother Madame Chong joined our family, my brothers and I were born one after another, life became increasingly more difficult. In the winter of 1925 my father travelled thousands of miles south to seek a new life. Initially he went with friends to Kedah, and was faced with poor rubber and tin prices due to world economic recession; there were retrenchment and salary reduction everywhere. He could hardly look after himself, let alone bring his family over. Fortunately he learned tailoring when he was young. He then moved to Temerloh, where he renewed his old profession as a tailor, and life was somewhat more manageable.

I left school at the age of 16 because the country was in turmoil due to fighting amongst the warlords; our homeland was dilapidated. Initially I served as the Principal of “Guang Fa” primary school 光发小学at Chi Ling 赤岭. The year after that I taught at “Wu Gang public school” 梧岗公学. In the third year the village elders as well as those in the education sector decided to merge all the schools into “Zhang Bei Public School” 漳北公学, I became the Director of Studies. Just like a new born calf, I was innocent, ignorant and not afraid. Out of the blue in autumn of the same year the Nanchang uprising broke out. The young intellectuals in the town felt very insecure. Therefore in the winter of that year, after the school closed, I left the country, heading south.

When I worked at “Kelayan?” in a district of Temerloh, I returned to the shop to visit the family over the weekend. I observed that my late father toiled under a small light, sewing the clothing, while his hand and leg operated the sewing machine, working till midnight. He coughed every now and then and sucking some “Bagua dan” (Chinese medicinal pills), I was aware that he was only treating the immediate symptoms, not dealing with the root problems! I hated myself that I did not have any savings, since I just arrived at South East Asia, and I felt ashamed that I was not able to lessen my late father’s burden.

In 1934 I took up a new appointment as the Principal of Chee Zhi School at Temerloh. My wife Tan Boon Kwang and I got married two years ago, and she was also a colleague at the same school. Initially I thought then from then on life would be more stable and I would be able to look after my parents. Out of the blue in February, my late father fell ill due to overwork, and his condition deteriorated rapidly. We sent him to Singapore for treatment, with the intention of returning to Temerloh once he is well. I also planned to apply to take leave from our Board of Directors, so that I could personally accompany him back to China for treatment. In May we unexpectedly received a phone call from Singapore, stating that “Father’s is critically ill, please come immediately”. When I got to Singapore my cousin has already transferred the patient to medical outfit at Singapore Cha Yong Hui Chun Association. At that time he was very frail and weak, when held was light as feathers. I knew then that God would take my father from me. He was still alert, he told his son “Wait till I return to my homeland and get cured, I would like to start a small shop in our village, life should not be too difficult, if only we could save up a few hundred dollars as initial capital”. I replied, “Don’t worry father, when you have recovered in our village, I will take all the responsibilities”. A moment after he said, “This bed is not comfortable, why not carry me to move to the next bed”? Immediately I replied, “Sure”. I then hurried to hold him in my arms. All of a sudden the speech was blurry, a few moments later he left this world in my arms, at the age of forty four, alas, what sorrow and grief!! In Singapore forty odd years ago, other than my 2 cousins I have few relatives or friends. Though my second and third younger brothers are already in Pahang, travelling between Singapore and Pahang was not convenient. Faced with this family death, I could only take the basic and simplest options. I bought the coffin and selected a burial site and personally looked into funeral arrangement and the aftermath. He was buried at the Foong Yong cemetery, after leaving the pavilion, I cried while whispering a few verses:

客死星洲倍可伤，It is doubly sad when a guest died in Singapore
临危犹念斗升粮；At times of danger he is still concerned about a bushel of grains
薄棺一具风兼雨，A simple coffin in the wind and rain
踏青亭後一坏黄。After the burial everything breakdown into yellow soil.
I was the eldest among our four brothers, next came Jiao, Zhi and Li. After that there was a little sister “Sun Niang’, who sent to a neighbouring “Dong Yang” village as a “child bride” at the age of one month, due to poverty.
My father came south from China when my mother was pregnant with my youngest brother, hence my father did not in his lifetime met younger brother Lee. After my father passed away, the tailor shop “Tai Ho” that he founded was taken over and managed by my second and third younger brother. My wife and I continued to “toil with our tongue”. Since our pay was meager, after teaching hours I became a local correspondent for papers in Singapore and Malaya, slowly accumulating some funds while balancing our resources finely. Two years later I received my mother Madam Chong and my younger brother. The two room house and a few strips of land that we owned in China were handed to my elder uncle and aunt, knowing full well that from then on I would leave my homeland permanently. Circumstances today are different and changing, I have to take my late parents as our founding ancestors in South East Asia. Alas, who could have forecast such a situation?

Since my mother and younger brother came south from China, our brother have been living in harmony, we made our parents happy, and we have produced children of our own. In 1943 my mother suffered a stroke, resulting in inflammations of joints in her limbs, and she lost sight on one eye. Her suffering in the past 10 years or so had been immense, I feel so sorry that I could not “take over” some of her pains and suffering. On 26th June 1958, my mother passed away in No 11, Road 7, Tiong Nam Settlement, and was buried at Kwong Tong Cemetery, at the age of 67. I tried to be calm but the wind was blowing. Alas, I felt painful deep inside.

In the Spring of 1949, I was appointed by Cha Yong Association in the Capital city, to be the Principal of the Nankai School, owned and run by the Association. As a result my mother also came from Temerloh to live with me in Kuala Lumpur.

Since my late father passed away forty years ago, whenever there was a good occasion, or during holidays, I would personally go to “San Yi Ci” in Singapore, (The cemetery for the three Hakka regions from China “Feng Shun” 丰顺, “Yong Ding” 永定 and “Tai Pu” 大埔. I would go to my father’s tomb, carry out weeding, cleaning and paid my respects. When my father was alive, the father-son relationship was very close, and I have an especially deep impression of him. After I have paid my due respect and burnt the incense, I would murmur
“On this day (year, month day), your son Ah Leong is here specifically to see you, with the incense and symbols of wealth and respect; I wish that father in heaven would protect and look after your descendents”.
I would then brief him on the latest situations regarding my siblings, talking in the casual manner as if my father was alive in front of me, like a routine conversation between father and his son.
For over forty years, I paid a visit each year to my father’s grave, with the exception of one year during the Japanese occupation, during that year I felt rather uneasy, though I didn’t quite know what the real cause was.
My late mother lady Chong was born as Chong Nao. She came from a noble family from Qing He 清河. She arrived at our household at the age of 19, was well cultured, well mannered and was familiar with ethics and social values; she was well regarded in the neighborhood. Within a few years my grandfather Siong Nam, and my grandmother Madam Siaw passed away one after the other, and my own siblings were born successively; as a result we were in a very poor financial position.
In addition to bring up the children, taking care of household chores, my mother also personally participated in farm activities, as well as helping a businessman to bring goods into the village. She normally leaves home early and returns late, carrying about 50 kgs on her shoulders. In this way she earned a very meager income, to help subsidies the family. When I was 11 or 12 years’ old, after my school I used to rush to “Yang Er Au Ridge”, about two and a half kilometer from my house to meet my mother, carrying two bamboo baskets on my shoulder, I reduced her load by about 15 to 20 kg. Many other children from the villages also share their mothers’ burden. My effort in the final leg of the journey was certainly helpful, to a person who is tired and exhausted from long distance haulage of goods day in day out.
When my grandfather passed away, my father borrowed $200 from a Mr. Chong, to pay for funeral as well as arrangement following his death. As a result every year we had to pay 300 liters grains. As it got to be from the very best of our grain harvest, it only made things much worse for a poor family. Every time during one of the two harvesting seasons, my late mother invariably cried in tears as she said to me,
“My son, one day when you grow up, if you are able to pay this debt, our family would have food for another half year, your mother would be so happy! Keep this in your heart, do not forget!
Within the third year of my arrival to South East Asia, I was able to remit home $200 that I managed to save, to repay this “blood sucking” debt. At that time my mother was still in China. I knew how joyous she would have been, when this debt was paid off.

Time flies, it has been 40 years since my father passed away, and it had been more than 10 years since I last saw my mother. Due to my own sins, my parents were separated in life and in death. They were not be together when they were alive, and they could not be together when they passed away. I have been thinking for a long time to bury them together. Since I have numerous brothers, I did not dare to make this decision alone. When I enquired my brothers said
“Things have been going rather smoothly in all these years since our father was buried; we might as well do it in the coming days”.
In this way the agreement to a reburial was made.

In the Autumn of 1973, the Singapore government acquired the Feng Yong Cemetery, so that it could be sold to the Americans for the construction of a container port. They ordered that all those who were buried there would be relocated to “Cai Cuo Gang”. Incentives were given to those who would want to be relocated voluntarily. Our decision to relocate had already been made. After discussion amongst the four brothers we decided in 1974 to buy a lot in the Old Chinese Cemetery in Temerloh. My second and third younger brothers went personally to Singapore to inspect the collection of bone remains as well as their incineration. The ashes were temporarily kept at the premise of my grand niece Siew Lin. Eventually the ashes were personally received and airlifted back to Malaysia.
On the other hand I also gathered my brothers and their families. We hired people to pack up the bones and remains of my late mother from her tomb. We then send the remains of both my parents in a car, to be reburied at a specified time in Temerloh. Hundreds of people, including our brothers, their children, grand children as well as friends and relatives came to observe the ceremony and paid their respects.

From this scenic place my parents’ spirits are always together, and they would eternally “look after” their descendants. Alas” I am already in my late life at the age of 65. When would it be when I would join them underground?
I am rather ashamed that after toiling for half my life, I did not succeed to repay my parents, to bring glory to my ancestors. I would hope and entrust this task to my descendents.

This note is written in the autumn of 1975, in the occasion of reburial of my parents’ ashes; to enable my descendants to understand their ancestors who went south from China. The root of a tree and the source of water are closely linked, I hope that they would not forget their ancestors, no matter how many books they have gone through.