Chapter 16: My Uncle - A Controversial Man

My uncle, the only sibling my mother had, was born in 1930 - two years after her. In their native village of Kampong Pulutan, he was better known by his nickname "Ah Tai", rather than by his given Chinese name, Yee Tshan Fah.

15.11.1930 - 7.9.1992

He must have been a well-behaved boy in his youth, judging by the kind words we heard from Aunty Stelli Benggon when we visited her in early February this year. They had grown up together in the same village.

He was of medium height, slightly plump, with a noticeably high forehead. His presence was unmistakable - he spoke in a loud, commanding voice that drew attention wherever he went. As a child of mixed parentage, he was often referred to as the "eleven o'clock kid" (十一點), a common term used at that time to describe people of mixed heritage. His wife was also of similar background. In early years, he was a devoted husband, a loving father and a respectful son. He worked diligently as a carpenter to support a large family: his mother, his wife and their eight children. Together, they lived in a spacious bamboo house in Kampong Pulutan.

Marriage photo with the 1st wife.

One of my fondest memories of him was from a school holiday visit to his house. I was probably around eight years old at the time. He took time off from work and crafted three wooden tops - two slightly taller ones for my older brothers and a smaller one just for me. What struck me most was he didn't make any for his own children then, choosing to focus on us. Thanks to his skills, and the special tools ha had as a carpenter, the tops were beautifully made - smooth, balance, and far better than any store-bought. When we played with them, the admiring, envious looks from the neighbourhood boys made us incredibly proud. Those simple toys became treasured gifts, and they left a lasting impression on me.

Typical top.

His reputation as a skilled carpenter grew steadily, and soon his services were in high demand. Contractors began calling on him for projects farther and farther from home. I remember him telling us excitedly about one such assignment - he had to spend several weeks at Mt Kinabalu, helping to build the transmitting tower there. He was full of pride and enthusiasm as he described the thrill of travelling daily in a cable-suspended gondola from the foothills up to the work site nestled along the mountain slope.

These outstation assignments, marked a turning point in his life. Rumors of his growing fondness for women began to spread. He returned home less and less, and his financial support to his family became increasingly sporadic. Both his wife and his mother tried to steer him back - sometimes with kind words, other time with scolding - but their efforts were in vain. I recall my own mother being asked by my grandmother to speak to him, even to reprimand him if needed. She did, but that too had no lasting effect.

Eventually, his wife left him, and his eight children were left in the care of my grandmother. Sadly, most of them were unable to complete their education, a consequence of financial hardship and the lack of proper parental guidance.

Beyond his first wife, my uncle was involved with at least four other women, all of whom bore him children. One was a divorcee, and others were unmarried. Contrary to the common perception of such women, they were not home wreckers. I came to know at least one of them quite well - his second wife, the divorcee with two daughters from a previous marriage. She turned out to be a kind and gentle woman, who, over time, was accepted and and even liked by my mother and other relatives.

Another relationship involved one of his workers, a Kadazan lady who later gave birth to a daughter named Alice Yee. In an odd twist of faith, Alice would later become a schoolmate of my daughter, Serene, at SM St. Francis Convent. The irony was not lost on us - my daughter and her aunt sharing the same school. Sadly my uncle never fully embraced his paternal responsibilities with these additional children, leaving many of them and their mothers to fend for themselves.

Despite his philandering ways and his tendency to neglect his role as a father, many people who knew him still spoke fondly of him. They remembered his generosity and his willingness to help. My uncle, Hj. Mandamin once told me that he learned carpentry while working under him. That skill later enabled him to start his own contracting business. He remained grateful for the opportunity my uncle had given him. Similarly, Uncle Wesley Pai recalled his time working as one of his workmen. He too picked up his carpentry skills, which he eventually used to build the very house where he now lives in. Uncle Wesley also remembered how "Ah Tai" had supported his education, allowing him to secure a job as a clerk in the National Registration Office.

To me, my uncle holds a special place in my memory. He was, in fact my first boss (Read here). I worked for him during a school break when I was 15 years old.

In the later years of his life, my uncle continued to work as a contractor, specializing in graveyard construction and tombstone restoration. He remained active in this line of work almost until the end. In his late fifties, he began to suffer from high blood pressure and declining health. He passed away in September 1992 at the age of 62 and was laid to rest beside his parents in the Roman Catholic Church Cemetery at Mile 1.5, Jalan Tuaran.