(Preamble - Some of the little incidents, occasions and snippets of life that happened decades ago are still vivid in my mind. Some are already hazy. The following recollections will not claim to be accurate records of events in the NG family. It is more of a reminiscence offering abridged versions of events and memories solely from my personal perspective. These are stories of my childhood and family that I would tell my daughter.)
I have very little recollection of my first 5-6 years in the Jalan Haji Manan family house where I was born. The only things I could remember were that as kids we loved to play games under the bed and that I hid my valuables (coins & soft drink bottle caps) under the mattress. Then out of the blue one day I found out that we were moving house – to a 3 storey shop house in Kluang town. During that big shift all my precious collections under the mattress disappeared.
At age six, I was sent to an English medium kindergarten ran by a church. The quaint little chapel with a small pointed spire was located right at the end of a long cul-de-sac next to the railway line and a stone throw away from an abattoir. I don’t remember learning anything other than the ABC in the kindergarten. However, I can still remember the cup of milk and the round Marie biscuits we were given daily during recess. I can also remember the to-die-for red rose syrup flavored agar-agar that you can buy at the canteen.
After school was over, and when everybody including the teacher had gone home, the place can turned eerily quiet. Dad was frequently late in picking me up and I was scared out of my 6 year old wits. There was this statue of Jesus Christ in front of the church with blood dripping down from some parts of his body. He seemed to be peering down and mocking at me whenever I was there alone. I would stand outside the gate watching the road anxiously for Dad’s car, never daring to look back.
One day, old 2nd uncle passed away. I went back to school the next day wearing a blue colored mourning tag on my shirt sleeve. The Indian lady teacher pointed at the tag with her cane and asked me what that was for. I could hardly speak a word of English then, let alone explained what had happened. So I ignored her. She got annoyed after a while and caned me once on my leg. I was furious. I sprang up and ran out of the classroom. She chased after me. I ran as fast as I could and headed for the railway line. The teacher followed by the whole class were shouting and chasing after me along the railway track. After a while, she gave up and went back to the church to telephone my father. I wandered around and finally ended up in my old family house in Haji Manan.
Dad was furious when he came to pick me up. In the car, he threatened to tie me up and give me a good trashing when we got home. Dad was always very stern looking. A man with very few words. I had never seen his affectionate side when we were younger. I had never heard him tell a joke. I think, as children we were all rather scared of him. Maybe, fathers were expected to act that way during his and his father’s generation. Anyway, the threat was never carried out. In fact, to his credit he had never once physically punished me despite his fierce demeanors.
Simon – 20 December 2009
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