MY FATHER-IN-LAW

PAPA LEE ARRIVED in Kuala Lumpur with only a few coppers in his pocket. The rest of his hard-earned savings had gone towards his passage agent’s “retirement fund.”

His first meal in the bustling new Malaysian boom town was sponsored by the neighbourhood noodle vendor, who laughed and waved him off when Papa Lee tried to pay for his food with Chinese coppers.

“Nobody will accept that kind of money here! When did you arrive?”

It was then Papa Lee realized how little he had known of the world beyond his family’s farm in China. He thanked the noodle vendor and silently swore that he would repay him someday. (For the record, he did locate the hawker several years later and paid him for his first bowl of noodles – plus a few hundred dollars as a tip, “to sponsor a visit to your home village.”)

The clan association took care of Papa Lee until he could find a job, In every town and village there would be an association set up by each clan to safeguard the honour of their kinsfolk. Cantonese immigrants, for instance, could approach the Kwangtung Association for food and shelter. Once they had found work and begun to prosper, they would usually become benefactors of the association. Even today, after so many generations, an association can be approached for help in sending a student abroad for higher education – but only if the student is promising and is likely to bring credit to his clan.

Papa Lee started humbly as a shop assistant, board and lodging provided. In the evenings he sought recreation (and education) from the itinerant story-teller, who would pass his hat around for donations each time a joss stick burnt out. Apart from their usual function in spiritual rites, joss sticks also had a more temporal, practical use: since few people owned watches or clocks in those days, housewives often burnt joss sticks to time the steaming of their sponge cakes. Anyway, who needed clocks and watches? People rose when the rooster crowed and worked till dusk; and they ate their midday meal when the sun was directly overhead and it was too hot to work.

But coming back to the itinerant story-teller: not only did he provide his audiences with glorious tales of ancient China, but he would relate stories from his wanderings up and down the length of the peninsula, or pass on juicy tidbits from the other side of the town. He was, in effect, the immigrants’ oral newspaper. Through him, Papa learnt about the rich tin mines of Perak, the timber fortunes, newly-named one-street townships in urgent need of provision shops, the escalating price of rubber, and the popularity of opium dens.

Papa Lee was not completely illiterate. He was able to write down valuable information gleaned from the story-teller’s ramblings and other people’s gossip. And he could read the signs. He knew exactly what he would invest in – when he had the money.

Half a cent gained is better than half a cent lost. That was his business philosophy – and he soon developed a formidable precision in mental arithmetic. Thus, through industry, thrift and sound instincts, Papa Lee built up a thriving and diversified business. He dealt in provisions and textiles, crockery and fine porcelain from China. He owned two sawmills, several rubber estates, and operated a licenced opium parlour.

He also became a regular traveller. First class, of course. Now that he could easily afford it he owed it to himself. Moreover, he was getting obese, what with the superb cuisine of which he was so fond, and the peace of mind that came, in his case, with financial security. Whenever he returned to Kuala Lumpur he had a wife to attend to his physical needs, and a boundfooted concubine to pander to his whims and supervise his meals when he was residing in the northern state of Perak.

He had two children in China, a son and a daughter, from a first wife who had long passed away (before he could afford to send for her). His second marriage was to a Penang nyonya (a Straits-born Chinese), who eventually became my mother-in-law. Nyonyas were widely regarded as flirtatious and vain, domineering and aggressive, but wonderful cooks. Woe betide the two-timing man married to a nyonya, for they were known to fight tooth and nail for their marital prerogatives. Mother-in-law took great delight in recounting her various victories in her decades-long war against “the other woman,” who was no match for her, the poor thing, with her bound feet.

Papa Lee’s health succumbed to all the stresses and strains in his complex marital life. He also suffered from anxiety that none of his five sons seemed competent to take over his business empire. On top of that, he had a few undiagnosed ailments.

Four sons were still “schooling,” and the eldest was a schoolmaster who had neither the inclination nor the aptitude for managing a business. It was all his mother’s fault. She had insisted that he be educated in English so that he could take his place among the Anglophonic elite. Besides, she had argued, it was useful to have someone in the family qualified to understand and deal with “government matters.” She was, however, sufficiently far-sighted to foresee the importance of her children being bi-lingual. She installed a “live-in” Chinese lady teacher, well-versed in the Chinese classics; a healthy, muscular, masculine-looking spinster, who saw to it that no one played truant. In exchange, the Lee brothers coached her in javelin, discus and shot putting. She participated in many of the Selangor Chinese sports events sponsored by the Lee team.

These were the days when the only doctors around served in the government hospitals – and it was quite usual for a fairly large town to have only one general hospital. People living in villages had to travel miles to reach their nearest district hospital. But there were always alternatives. The Chinese took their medical problems to the sinseh (whose expertise sprang from the old tradition of the village apothecary). Malays had recourse to their witch-doctors or bomohs. And the Indians (at least the ones who could afford it) could consult a wide range of experts in astrology, homeopathy, ayurvedic healing, hypnotism and divine intercession. Only in the late ‘Forties did private clinics appear in Malaya. A bit too late to be much help to Papa Lee back in the ‘Twenties, whose condition deteriorated beyond all hope.

According to Chinese custom, it is favourable to die in one’s own home. Furthermore, a fortunate passing would include the performance of last rites and funerary rituals by one’s entire family. But, much as Papa Lee desired the presence of his boundfooted concubine, it was absolutely unthinkable to admit her to his principal wife’s home. The fact remained that when Papa Lee took on his concubine, no wifely permission had been sought or granted, nor had tea been served.

So when Papa Lee’s funeral cortege left the house, his concubine was seen only at the tail end of the long procession, struggling bravely along on her tiny deformed feet.

No one has been able to tell me what became of her, the poor thing.

THE PUNISHMENT

THIRD SISTER was an incorrigible mahjong player, partly because she was a pampered daughter and wife – very unusual in an Asian family. Her mother was a nyonya and, like all Peranakan women, she loved her daughters more than her sons (this was generally true, though particular sons enjoyed special favour with the Matriarch).

Both Second and Third Sisters stayed gratis in their mother’s home with their entire families. In reciprocation they paid their mother a token tribute of “cake money.” Eventually, of course, this practice resulted in the complete exhaustion of the family wealth due to extravagance and poor management.

But, as long as the money lasted, womenfolk from such backgrounds had practically nothing to do. They were provided with slaves to look after their children. Some had personal maids to comb their hair. Others had maids assigned to serve their husbands, which invariably led to connubial complications. However, as nyonyas were well known for their aggressiveness and ferocity, such occurrences were rarer than in, for instance, Cantonese families. Anyway, their husbands would hesitate to try anything “funny” while living in their mother-in-law’s house – and after years of being dominated by women (first by their own mothers and later by their mother-in-law) they would naturally have become very docile and dependent. (It’s hard to imagine any mother-in-law today who would want to maintain their sons-in-law, plus their families. Today’s mother-in-law would surely prefer to spend her fortune vacationing abroad!)

Third Sister’s mahjong habit began unremarkably enough. She would come home each evening before dinner time and no eyebrows were raised. As time went by, she grew bolder and bolder, and soon she was absent from home till midnight. Her timid husband put up with her waywardness until he could no longer bear it. He decided it was time he had a heart attack. In those days a heart attack was very different from what it means today: if someone clutched his heart in agony and cried out that he couldn’t breathe, it usually indicated that he was in deep emotional distress and could not articulate his suffering.

Which is precisely what Third Sister’s long-suffering husband did. I knew it was all for show and that he was in no danger of expiring. He didn’t dare admonish his wife directly. To him she was a valuable prize, worthy of undying love and worship. He had, in fact, been offered another girl from a richer family as his wife, but had chosen to marry Third Sister – even though some people considered it a real humiliation to be subject to matriarchal rule (the Cantonese called it “being taken in by the bride”). In any case, Third Brother-in-Law undoubtedly loved his wife dearly – and she knew it. I suppose she was pushing the limits.

The house we lived in was a rambling sort of bungalow, single-storey, with a huge compound where sports and games were played, ideal as a setting for a soap opera. When we heard Third Brother-in-Law groaning and complaining in between coughing fits that he couldn’t breathe, the elders of the household (his mother-in-law, brother-in-law and elder sister-in-law) rushed to the rescue with hot water and pungent oil for the “wind.” I woke my husband up and said I was going down to help, too, but he stopped me, saying that juniors should not interfere. Apparently it was a Cantonese custom. His father had been a typical Cantonese and his mother a typical nyonya. I realised that I still had much to learn about the two very different strands of tradition observed in this household.

It was obvious that Third Brother-in-Law’s violent coughing and his “heart attack” had been timed to wake the household up just before the return of his prodigal wife. The elders administered the oriental treatment for chest pains and breathlessness: a vigorous massage with medicated oil and a pot of hot tea. After the anxiety and fuss had subsided a little, the atmosphere became brooding and angry. No words were spoken, but everyone knew that Third Brother-in-Law’s “attack” was caused by a serious transgression in the family. Now, added to the anger was a sense of collective guilt. In ancient China, whenever a wrongful act had been committed, not only the culprit but his immediate family, his extended family, all his relatives including those bearing his surname, would be executed; sometimes a whole village could be erased by this tradition of collective accountability! Considering that one was required to pay ancestral debts unto the third or fourth generation, it’s a miracle that China has always had such a large population.

Third Sister was let in fearful and trembling. The living room lights were on. Three sisters with formidable faces were seated in council in their rosewood chairs: the silence was as cold as the marble inlayson the backs of the elders’ chairs. For months, Third Sister had been sneaking in after her mahjong sessions – and her loving and obedient husband had been quietly unbolting the door for her. But tonight… he was indisposed.
The eldest brother, representing the late paterfamilias, was the “Chief Judge.” The Mater, seated on his left, was the ”Prosecutor.” Elder Sister was the “Witness.”

I couldn’t contain myself. I just had to open my bedroom door, a discreet slit, to watch the drama. For someone like me, who had been brought up in a Christian (that is, more westernized) household, it was like a scene out of a Chinese opera! My husband kept saying it was wrong to eavesdrop on Third Sister’s moment of humiliation. Well, I was quite sure he wouldn’t “report” on me – and even if someone caught me, apart from the embarrassment, it would be interesting to find out what manner of “punishment” would be devised for my crime!

Despite the heaviness of her belly (she was nearing full term in her pregnancy), Third Sister knelt before the Family Tribunal. The charge was read. She confessed and promised to “sin” no more. A ruler was produced (there being no sword in the house). The “Judge” tapped her on the shoulder three times. Her husband, recovering in bed, called out for leniency. Third Sister was told, in the severest of tones, that she would henceforth be kicked out of the house if she came home after 11 p.m. Thus ended the punishment.

Not long after this incident the baby arrived – and Third Sister’s mahjong evenings resumed. Her devoted husband was soon conspiratorially unbolting the front door for her whenever she came home late.

As the saying goes: “Who can say anything if the husband remains silent?”