I had very little contact with dad, the 8-9 years I was studying in New Zealand. The technology for web-cam and e-mail were still not available then. Telephone call charges caused an arm and limb. While in NZ, I had not heard of anyone using the phone to call home. Even sending a telegram was considered a luxury and the service was only used when absolutely urgent and necessary. So the only recourse then was postal mail, now known as the snail mail. An airmail letter would take about a week to arrive at its destination. A sea mail parcel would take 2 months.
I seldom wrote. Maybe once every 2-3 months. My letters were written in English and only dad could reply. I do not remember receiving any letter from him except once when I wrote about a racist construction team supervisor who challenged me to a fight during one of my summer vacation jobs. Dad wrote an immediate reply, advising me to be less emotional and avoid getting into trouble. Then there was the other time when I wrote a long, dark brooding letter describing the dank cold winter scenery outside my window and nothing else. I think he got rather worried about my emotional state of mind and instructed my eldest brother to write a reply.
Being away and out of the picture, there is very little I can write on the events and happenings at the home front during the 1970s.
Nevertheless, I believe dad mellowed a lot with age and when he started working on a regular job at the 4D shop. Mom had to rely on dad for transport to and from town. Life settled down to a more domestic pattern and I believe their relationship grew much closer then, The golden years for mom and dad begun when the elder children returned home from study, started working and got married. Soon after, the grandchildren came along. The eldest grandson TC was raised by mom and dad in Kluang until schooling age. I believe that must be one of the happiest times for mom and dad.
Mom and dad would travel to Kuala Lumpur to visit their children and grandchildren every now and then. We would all drive down to Kluang to celebrate Chinese New Year. There was no highway then. The journey took 6-8 hours along congested 2 lane trunk road passing through small towns and kampungs. We used to stop at Tampin for toilet break and coffee and to buy purple colored Kuih Kuci. The annual CNY pilgrimage continued until mom and dad moved up permanently to Subang Jaya at the end of 1987. Without a balik kampong ritual and a small town festive atmosphere, Chinese New Year in Subang Jaya somehow feels different. A case of nostalgia?
I think there is no need for me to continue my reminiscence of dad into the later years. All the children and grandchildren will have their own experience and memories of their dad and grand dad. They can continue from here, reminiscing in their own words and sharing with everyone in the Ng Family their stories and memories.
simon 8 - January 2010
No comments:
Post a Comment