I'm in one of those mood to write a lot. One of those days people call it.
I just wanted to write about the people that have put significant memories in my treasure box. And that was when I had the nostalgic pang hitting me the moment I was sitting through the loud Chinese wedding dinner in a restaurant situation in the middle of Malacca the Hot Coastal State (and the infamous historical city imposed by Unesco for its delicate and intricate historical sites, which I am unbashingly proud of).
As I gallant through my relatives, somehow, like it or not, memories of people whom have been part of my life came flashing through. It was not tough, nor was it hurtful. It was more of something sweet and heartfelt. I miss that. And then I was reminded how much I miss these people throughout the years which I have left them and went on my way. My life which I was looking forward to have since I knew what ambition was all about.
Looking at Tony was pretty much reflecting the time me, as a 5 year old and he as a teenager cousin had as a bonding relationship. I was that unabashed cute little nosy kiddo who likes to mind his business while he muses with girls and music on the turntable (yeah, I remember that turntable we had in Gajah Berang) with likes of Bonnie M, Bee Gees and Air Supply. My ability to recite them like nursery rhymes today, singing along without much thoughts given were an attribute of my cousins' record playing in afternoon or evening when opportunity arises. The songs was be heard from houses away like a mini discotheque. We lived in Gajah Berang. In Kampung Chitty. Our house was No. 10.
There was Terry too (Terry did not have much boding as I have with Tony unfortunately because Terry is the less interested cousin, the less talkative, the less rebellious). Terry though is pretty much Tony's other half brother so to speak and nemesis. They are 2 very different characters and all 3 of us cousins are watched over by Mama, our very sharp tongue and ferocious Nyonya granny.
She is pretty much the matriarch to the family then. She cooks for the family. She makes marvelous dishes which one could hardly find today in any Nyonya restaurants and she loves us to the core. And core she is, a hardcore. Her husband left her with 8 kids to fend. That's tough when she was merely a homemaker. I guess part of my hardcore-ness, determination and sheer grit attitude comes from her. Not forgetting, my spiteful and whiplash tongue. It has to be from her too. Picking up swearing at a tender age. So what makes out after a super 30 years later, ta-dah. You have me!
I could reminisce Mama by that lady who wakes at 5am to water her beloved fields of orchids (her passion) and roses (another passion). Walkes about 3km to the Tengkera wet market to get her load of fresh meat, vegetables and fish. When I was still too young to go to school, I walked with her hand in hand to the market while Terry and Tony goes to school. She would carry the basket of fresh stuff home, while I will help her with whatever the little me could muster to carry. And we will gallantly walk back home, another 3 km. It was never far by the standards then, where car was a means to drive around anywhere more than 5km. It was just a stone's throw to my Mama and me.
She would prepare lunch. And by noon, my dad and uncle would return from work to have lunch at home. She cooks very simple food but everything is fresh and delicious. We eat real Nyonya food with no such thing we call MSG today. Fishballs are really made from Ikan Parang. Sambal paste were giling right from her mortal board. Herbs were from her run down 'herbal' garden behind the house. We did not have fridge so everything we eat were to be finished by end of the meals. No such thing as leftovers.
She takes a break after lunch for a nap. Then when it is time for dinner, she would cook another few dishes for the family. If she is in the mood, she would cook up Nyonya savories for afternoon tea. Then she cleans the house, pretty much made of cement flooring all throughout the house. She feds the chickens and perky turkeys which she rears behind the house. I hate them because they peck me whenever they can. All because I am small and I look harmless.
She lives life in this cycle. When there are events like Cheng Beng or Chinese New Year or even the dumpling time of the year, Mama never buys any cookies. That was pretty much unheard of. She makes her own kuih kapit, bunga ros, pineapple tarts, keropok and what nots. She even makes very good Nyonya chang. For New Year's eve and the time where she needs to cook up dishes to celebrate, she slaughters her own chicken, she cooks more dishes than she normally does with giant prawns, expensive Pompret, more pork laden ketchup stew and I can't remember what else extinct today. She would also take the liberty to arrange the table in front of the alter, making sure she has enough dishes for prayers and before we eat, she would use the 2 wooden kidney shaped blocks seeking permission from the white marble Kwan Yin to eat.
She also helps out with the dogs we rear if she has the time. We have the Boxer as a pet who enjoys licking me. We have the several pedigree Alsatians for breeding. We even had Doberman once. The dogs come and go. But I dislike them because they were pretty much my size at that time and they enjoy licking me.
Then they have Uncle Chiang then staying with us, still very young. Works in TNB, then LLN with my dad. My dad seemed to be always watching out for him. Because Uncle Chiang is the youngest in the family. Together as brothers, they have one common passion, dogs. They breed dogs.
I could still recall the whimpering sounds of the puppies when they were newly born at night. They cry at night either because they were hungry or cold. And the peg of puppies loves cuddling between themselves for the heat. At night, dad and uncle will fix a warm yellow bulb under their heads just to keep them warm. Awww. Those were my moments.
Uncle Chiang was also the uncle who loves me. He loves to tease me. Plays with me. And like Tony, occasionally brings me to the grocery shop nearby on their chopper bicycle to get me an ice cream or wafer as a simple treat. They even like plucking fresh mangoes from the tree outside the house or guava for me. Little treats for the little me and that explains how I have a knack for sweet mangoes and guavas.
Such was my life then. Such was life.
Then we have Makko, Mama's 1st daughter. Tony's mother. She owns a little grocery shop in Klebang. There she lives with her much older husband who is not Tony's dad (apparently). I know Uncle as a very old yet kind man. I remember him to be an extremely gentleman, tall, all white haired and often wears that striped blue and white Ah Pek pants. Every now and then, dad and mum would visit them bringing me along. Makko always, always have something for me from her little shop. Ice cream, sweets or even keropok. Where do you think my keropok passion came from? Ah-hah.
Makko was part of our lives for a long time. Despite Tony wanting to come back to take care of her after his trainee stinct of a teacher, she was the archetypical of a mother-in-law. She over fusses over Tony's wife. And so eventually Tony went back to East Malaysia to live with his new family. Makko was fine on her own. Makko has part of her life taking care of Mama when Mama became bed ridden for 7 long years. Makko was the one who took care of Mama day in, day out. Makko was the one who bath, clean and fed Mama. Makko was a superb lady. They then sought each other's company for that 7 years.
When Mama died, Makko stayed on her own in a house Tony bought. Mum visits Makko every now and then to see how she is. And Makko pretty much lives her life through till the end of the days like very much what Poh Poh is living now. On her own.
I could still remember Makko. The only aunt from my dad's side who cares tremendously over mine and Danny's well being. The only aunty who often never forget about us when it comes to Ang Pows and how we are doing in school and all that. I could still reminisce Makko's tattering Nyonya way of talking and her nosy ways. But that is who Makko is. The archetypical of a Nyonya lady.
As so… that is how it is. How these people have come to my life in some point in time and how much I could still clearly recall the series of events being with them. I could still remember them so clearly, like I am watching a projector playing across my head while all I could do is smile over these people who has made a mark in my life, subtly yet poignant.
I miss them. I truly miss these people.
