Chapter 24: Jobs I did

Promotional material is a rare sight in our housing estate. So it caught my attention when I spotted an advertisement yesterday - it was for a home tuition teacher offering to conduct lessons at the student's residence. 

In an age where tuition centers are sprouting up everywhere - often requiring parents or carergivers to handle drop-offs and pick-ups - this personalized, at-home option might be quite appealing to some!

In my younger days, I took on a variety of jobs. One of them - working as an odd-job labourer in graveyard construction and tombstone restoration - is detailed in Chapter 14. I also worked as a part-time tuition teacher while I was an A-Level student, and continued doing so during the post-A Level period before entering university. Those were all part-time, taken up to earn extra pocket money.

I provided one-to-one tuition at students' homes and also coached small groups. Since I didn't have a tuition centre of my own - and my old house wasn't suitable for such a purpose - I began using British Council library in Kota Kinabalu town centre as a makeshift classroom. 

Initially, things went smoothly. The staff and library users simply assumed we were a group of students engaged in group study or revision. However, as our visits became more frequent and the occasional noise from our "study sessions" became noticeable, the staff politely advised us either to lower our voices or find an alternative location. 

In the end, I had no choice but to relocate. One of the students kindly offered his home as our new tuition venue. His house was one of the traditional stilted homes in Kampong Air (Water Village) - an aera that has since been reclaimed and is now occupied by Asia City. 

Houses on stilts in Kampong Air, Kota Kinabalu.

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One of the jobs I considered particularly "prestigious" was my part-time role as a Hakka-newsreader for Radio Television Malaysia (RTM) between 1972 and early 1973. Before I was accepted, I had to pass an audition to assess my voice quality, which was personally evaluated by the producer. 

Unlike today's pre-recorded segments, news had to be delivered live, which was incredibly stressful at first. I would rehearse the script several times to ensure I was familiar with every word before going on air at the scheduled time. The original news was translated from English into Mandarin, and I was tasked with reading the same script in Hakka. This proved challenging, as certain phrases did not translate smoothly, and some words didn't sound right in Hakka. Often, I had to quickly think of the most accurate and natural-sounding Hakka equivalents in the brief time I had before going live. 

For each 10-minute session, I was paid RM7.50 - a modest sum, but the experience and sense of pride were far more valuable.

Letter from Radio Malaysia asking for a voice test.

A payment voucher for payment of RM22.50
for three sessions done in March 1972.

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When I took on the job as a part time newsreader, I was working full-time as a draftsman with the Public Work Department (PWD). The PWD office was located in the Jesselton town centre (now known as Kota Kinabalu), in a building that is currently occupied by Standard Chartered Bank. 

As soon as office ended at 4.15pm, I would rush to catch a bus along Tuaran Road to reach RTM station, which is now situated next to Komplek Karamunsing. If I was lucky, I'd arrive by 5.00pm, leaving me just half an hour to familiarize myself with the news script before going live at exactly 5.30pm. 

On one occasion, I didn't make it on time. The news slot was replaced with light music instead. The following day, I received a phone call from the producer, who was clearly upset and didn't hold back in expressing his disappointment. I was required to submit a written report explaining my absence. At the time, failing to deliver a scheduled news broadcast was no small matter - dead air was considered a serious breach.

Each broadcast began with the announcement: "This is Radio Malaysia Sabah, this is news time by Lee Teck Kiong....". Although my stint as a part-time newsreader was brief, many in local Hakka community still remember the name, having heard me read the news back then. In those days, many Chinese listeners appreciated hearing the news delivered in their mother tongue.

Technical Pens & Lettering Guides.

 

My time as a draftsman was also relatively short. I worked in the Structural Section at the PWD Headquarters, and although brief, the experience proved valuable - particularly during my third-year university design project, which required the structural design of a building followed by detailed drafting work. 

Unlike the more "glamorous" role of a newsreader, the early days of my drafting work were far from exciting. As a trainee draftsman, I spent the entire first week honing my handwriting - painstakingly practicing alphabets, numbers, and words over countless pages using a technical pen. After that, I was tasked with tracing words and sentences using the Rotring Lettering Guides. Only when my supervisor was finally satisfied with the consistency and neatness of my handwriting was I entrusted with the actual task of amending old drawings. 

My drafting career came to an end in April 1973 when I left Kota Kinabalu to pursue a degree in Civil Engineering at the University Malaya.

Today, good handwriting is no longer a prerequisite for draftsmen. With all drafting done digitally, trying to market yourself based on beautiful lettering would likely earn you the label of a "has been". As for technical pens and lettering guides - they've become nothing more than relics fit for a museum.

Chapter 23: Celebrating Chinese New Year in the 1950s and Early 1960s

During a recent Chinese New Year celebration, it was heartening to see both immediate and extended family members coming together to help with preparations for the reunion dinner. The spirit of togetherness and shared tradition made the occasion even more meaningful.

Getting the barbeque sets ready.Shopping for food ingredients.

These days, the main focus of Chinese New Year is often simply to gather for a family reunion dinner. If time allows, some families may plan short trips or outings together.

But back in the 1950s and early 1960s, celebrating Chinese New Year was a much more elaborate and serious affair. Planning and preparations began several days - or even weeks - before the actual New Year.

At the top of the to-do list, my mother would travel to the shops in town (there was no supermarket back then) to buy a new set of clothes and a pair of shoes for each family member. A haircut was essential. In our family, my father would cut all the children's hair at home to save money, while he himself would go to a barber shop. My mother would visit a ladies' saloon to have her hair styled.

 

To prepare for the reunion dinner on the New Year's Eve, my parents would purchase all the necessary ingredients for the many dishes to be served. The shopping list also included festive treats, and snacks for us children and for visitors. My mother would buy tins of biscuits, packages of Chinese sausages, waxed ducks, and other goodies - not just for our own use, but to be wrapped and given as gifts to our neighbours.

 

Once the gift packages were ready, the older children were tasked with delivering them house to house. In return, neighbours would offer us similar gifts - often with nearly identical contents. I once asked my mother why we exchanged such gifts when, in the end, it seemed like every household ended up with roughly the same items. Her response was always simple, "It's our traditional practice". 

Only in recent years have I come to appreciate the wisdom behind her work. What may have seemed like a repetitive or "illogical" tradition was, in fact, a meaningful ritual that strengthened the bonds of friendship and mutual respect among neighbors - something that was deeply felt in those days, but is sadly much rarer now.

Chinese sausages & waxed ducks.

Nian Kau

Nian Kau was usually one of the must-have items in our festive gift package. It was a treat we enjoyed only once a year, as buying enough pieces for everyone would have been beyond our family's budget. So my mother would make them herself. 

The process began with soaking glutinous rice grains. Once ready, we'd take the soaked grains to my grand-uncle's house, just a short distance away, where they had a stone rice grinder to grind the rice grains installed in one of their two kitchens. This hand-powered flour mill was essential for turning the soaked grains into rice flour. 

The grinding required continuous effort. My mother would rotate the heavy stone grinder, while I had the important task of feeding the grains into the small opening at the top. It was a bit of a tricky operation. I had to squat beside the grinder, quickly stand up to drop a spoonful of soaked rice into the hole, and ducked back down before the rotating arm swung around and hit me. Timing was everything.

We came across a similar stone grinder in a small museum on Jonker Street in Malacca during our visit in 2012.

 

Large leaves of tarap tree.

Next came the house cleaning. Spider webs had to be cleared, and curtains along with mosquito netting were washed. To remove the webs from every corner of the house, we used a long pole with a bundle of twigs tied to one end. Curtains and mosquito nets were taken down and placed in an empty biscuit tin filled with water and washing powder. The tin was then heated to a boil to thoroughly clean the fabric, which was later washed, rinsed, and hung out to dry. 

The timber floor received a thorough scrubbing - sometimes with brushes, but most often using leaves plucked from tarap tree. These leaves, which cost nothing and grew abundantly behind our house, were large and covered with fine, hairy spikes, making them ideal for scrubbing, like natural sandpaper.

 

One afternoon after school, the older children would be tasked with clearing the walking trail that led from our house in the valley up to Harrington Road (now known as Jalan Istana). Any overgrown vegetation or tall grass encroaching onto the path was cut back to ensure it looked tidy. Slippery or uneven slopes were levelled, and steps were carved where necessary - this was done in anticipation of visiting relatives during Chinese New Year.

 

Every year, on the day before the New Year's Eve, the town's wet and fish markets would open from 4pm and stayed bustling until the following morning. The roads surrounding the markets were closed to vehicles, and every inch of space - from pavements to roadside corners - was filled with temporary stalls selling food ingredients and festive merchandise. My mother would usually head to this night market in the early evening to buy what she needed for the reunion dishes. Some of us children would tag along, serving as little coolies to help carry the heavy shopping bags.

Pre-Chinese New Year's Eve Night Market in Kota Kinabalu.

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Pomelo

Once a year, in Chinese New Year's Eve, we would take a special bath using water boiled with Pomelo leaves. We never had trouble finding these leaves, as several Pomelo trees grew around our house. The traditional cleansing ritual was believed to wash away all the bad luck and negative energy accumulated over the past year.

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On Chinese New Year's Eve, my father would set aside his work and step into the role of family chef. His specialty was Hakka Kel Nyuk - a rich, flavorful dish of stewed pork belly with yam - which we looked forward to all year, as it was only prepared for this special occasion.

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The first day of the Chinese New Year began early - at 5.30am, the children would be up on the balcony, eagerly lighting firecrackers. As soon as the first explosion rang out, it triggered a chain reaction throughout the village. One by one, neighboring houses joined in, setting off their own firecrackers in a continuous burst of sound that echoed for at least half an hour.

Breakfast that morning was simple but festive, usually consisting of Nian Kau, mandarin oranges and a variety of traditional goodies. Shortly after, my mother would gather the children to distribute angpau. Back then, the decorative red envelopes we see today - often provided by banks - didn't exist. Instead, angpau consisted of money wrapped in plain red paper.

 

The first day of the year was considered sacred. On New Year's Eve, our parents would sternly reminded us not to say anything improper or inauspicious. Words like "dead", "bad" or anything associated with misfortune were strictly forbidden - even words that sounded similar should be avoided. If a housefly or cockroach appeared on the dining table, it was spared - no killing was allowed on this day. Sweeping the floor was also prohibited to avoid "sweeping away" good luck, wealth, and prosperity. That day might well have been the only time of the year when no foul language was heard in any Chinese household.

 

Our Church held a special worship service on the morning of the first day - a tradition that continues even today. For the occasion, we all wore our best outfits: brand-new clothes and new shoes that had been prepared for the new year.

 

After the service, my father would often take us to the funfair or to watch a movie. At the time, many Chinese schools took advantage of the festive season to organize funfairs, both to raise funds for the school projects and to offer a joyful outing for the community.

 

During the rest of the holidays, village children would gather to light more firecrackers and play their favourite games. It was a time of simple pleasures and shared joy.

 

But like all good things, the celebration eventually came to an end. The new year holidays concluded quickly, and school resumed on the third day of the Chinese New Year. Much to our dismay, we had to drag ourselves back to class, struggling to shake off the festive hangover and return to the routine and pressures of school life.

Chapter 22: A Glimpse of My Old House

Finally, among the many old photos my sister gave me, I found a few that show glimpses of the house I once lived in back in the village.

A family photo taken in 1965 in front of the old house. I am at right in back row.

A photo of the siblings taken in 1965.

The living room located at the center of the house, was accessible by a five-step timber staircase. Remarkably, the first step was actually the front bonnet of an old abandoned Land Rover - a touch of rustic ingenuity that still impresses me to this day.

 

To the right of the staircase was the entrance to the kitchen, which had a dirt floor. A makeshift board, pierced together from old timber planks and leaned against the wall near the entrance, was occasionally used to block chicken, ducks and dogs from wandering into the kitchen.

 

Behind the family members shown in the photograph, out of view, was a small handrail-free balcony - about 4 feet by 6 feet in size. That little space holds some of the fondest childhood memories. It was there that my mother would often tell her old tales and stories, spinning vivid narratives that captivated us as children. In the evenings after dinner, we would lie on our backs, gazing at the clouds and watching birds, eagles, and bats glide silently across the sky.

On the first morning of every Chinese New Year, we kids would wake up early, light firecrackers and toss them across the dirt compound. The spirit of the celebration truly came alive when the ground turned bright red with the remains of exploded firecrackers - a festive sight that lives in my memory.

Just above the balcony was a window, and next to it stood our family's sewing machine. I would often stood outside on the balcony, peeping through the window to watch my father work diligently at his tailoring, especially at weekends. Those quiet moments of observations taught me how the sewing machine worked, and to this day, I still know how to do basic sewing because of them.

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This family photo likely taken around 1967, offers a rare glimpse of what the front of our house looked like back then. In the background is the base of the hill where the Istana - the Governor's Residence - now stands.

Though the house was modest in design and built with materials that would be considered substandard by today's standard, it was still the place where I spent much of my childhood and teenage years. Despite its simplicity, it was filled with warmth, laughter, and love. To this day, I hold many fond memories of that first home - memories that continue to bring a sense of comfort and nostalgia whenever I think of it.

Chapter 21: If Only We Can Change History?

The renovation of my parents' house in Likas was finally completed late last year. After my mother passed away in April 2012, the family made the decision to renovate the home. Today, it's occupied by my youngest brother's family and my sister.

 

During the renovation process, we went through many old belongings to decide what to keep and what to let go. I was especially delighted to receive some old photographs that had been stored in the house - images I had nearly forgotten, but which brought back a flood of memories.

Left to right: My cousin, me, my second brother and my eldest brother.

 

One of the most treasured items I received during the house renovation was an old photograph taken in 1954, when I was just three years old (second from left). It is now the oldest photo of me that I own. The picture features my eldest brother (now deceased), my second brother, and a cousin of mine.

 

The cousin, Joseph Yee, is about the same age as me. He is the eldest son of my maternal uncle, whom I mentioned in Chapter 16. At one point, he worked as an architectural draftsman alongside my second brother. However, he left the profession long ago and now runs a coffee shop in Inanam.

 

While it's true that Joseph has many step-siblings - children of his father from other relationships - he has chosen to exclude them from the Gomorun family genealogy, including only the children born to his own mother. As I've noted before, the decline in his family's well-being seemed to coincide with his father's growing indulgence in relationships with multiple women.

 

I am reminded of a passage from Neson Mandella's autobiography, "Long Walk to Freedom" where he writes about a classmate in Clarkebury Institute:

"She was an extraordinarily clever and gifted person, whose potential was limited because of her family's meagre resources. This was an all too typical South African story. It was not lack of ability that limited my people, but lack of opportunity".

When Joseph was asked to prepare the family genealogy, I wonder - was there still a trace of bitterness? Did the recollections of past events, and how they might have shaped the course of his life, still linger?

Today, while reading a devotional titled "The Purpose of History", I was struck again by how deeply our past can affect us. History is full of lessons - real, personal, and practical - passed down through the experience of those who walked the path before us.

 

A single lapse in judgment, or a moment of reckless indulgence, can alter the direction of a life forever.

Loo with a Difference

The French Restaurant booked by the Tew's sisters and their spouses to celebrate their mom's  birthday has at least one unique thing - the entrance signs to the loo.

 

Happy belated Valentine Day!

Meeting Up Old Classmates

Some of my former classmates of Class 67 (Form 3) of Lok Yuk School, KK met up for brunch on 12 February 2014 for a small reunion with a couple, Frankie and Teresa who came back from Vancouver, Canada.

Clearly, the love bugs of these two people developed early. They fell in love when they were students in Form 3! The marriage somehow turns out well and they are still happily married.

It has been 46 years since I last saw them! That's really a very long time.

From left around the table: Johnny Loo, Jeannie Teo, Grace Chin, Lee Nyuk Jin, 
Teresa Chee, Frankie Chee, Eddie Chow, Yap Kim Tong & Alfred Lee

Colourized photo.
I am at left of 2nd row partially hidden behind the Form Teacher, Ruth Moody.

Original b/w photo.

Class of 1967

CNY 2014 in KK

After spending CNY in BP, we came home on 3 February to welcome Junshi's second visit to Sabah. Beside taking a short break for CNY, she was here to do some exploratory work for the big day.

 

It is normal for people who have gone overseas to work to hunt for some of the well known food in KK whenever they are back. One of the sought after food is predictably the Tuaran Fried Mee.

 

The Swing Teams Story

This swing is at least 36 years old and is part of the history of the Lim's family heritage. It has seen some of it's patrons growing up from infancy to becoming proud parents.  The swing has also undergone many rounds of repainting to make sure the wear and tear would not cause problem to its load bearing capacity.

For most of the year, the grand old patriarch sat on this swing, probably pondering and reflecting over the many days, weeks, months and years that have gone by........ CNY is one occasion when the swing team members meet up again.

We look back with nostalgia how the team members have grown since the 80's.

What some of the original swing team looks like in 2014.

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This is reckoned to be the oldest swing team, probably taken in 1981!

Swing Team 1984.

The expanded original swing team.

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This is a good illustration of the age difference between the swing team members. Paul was carrying his cousin Wan Yi.

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Nathan joined the swing team in 2012.

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Latest swing team - younger 3rd generation + 4th generation.

Clockwise: Yang Yang (in red), Wei Yi (red), Wan Yi (blue), Ziyan, Aaron, Alyssa, Ryan (green) and middle Tze Yi (white)

Ushering the Year of the Horse - 2014

Lau Sang

 

Ang Pau Session.

 

I could not remember the last time I received an ang pau during CNY. This came as a surprise!

 

The boys were busy getting the barbecue sets assembled minutes before the sets were put into use.

 

I was surprised that the charcoal took so long to be fired up. Reason: bits and pieces of old newspaper were used. Finally, I got them the charcoal lighters to speed up the process.

 

Barbeque was something new to the Lim's family. The Lee's had to do some demo's and coaching to get the process going. At the end, the barbecue turned out to be a success.

 

The new generation knew the importance of PR work. The uncle and cousin were enjoying the massage before meal!

1st, 3rd and 4th generations.

For the album.