Impending End of Year 2019

2019 is fast coming to an end. At this point of time, time is being felt as a fast depleting commodity. The dawning of a new year is felt like a surging tide rushing to the shore but equally receding fast back to the vast ocean by the end of the year in the blink of the eyes. 

When Mahathir launched Vision 2020 in 1991, I had doubt whether I would live to see year 2020, that’s because 2020 was then 30 years away. Now 2020 is less than a month away. We have the opportunity to live to see 2020 and to witness together with the Vision proponent the unfulfilled Vision 2020! But politicians are always quick to come up with excuses to cover the failure. Now the new slogan is "Shared Vision 2030"?

Our Connect Group chose to conclude 2019 with a Pot Bless Gathering and it attracted a crowd of 30. This number is 50% bigger than usual. As one put it, CG is supposed to be a gathering of small group of people but that's not quite the case in our CG. This CG is a fantastic group, a very closely knitted "family" and each is supportive of one another. 

The irony for retirees is that time can be plentiful daily yet it is also a precious and fast depleting resource. The challenge is no longer aiming for elevated social standing or collecting a huge stockpile of assets. It is but just doing the little things: be an encourager, a motivator, a peace maker or just a laugh initiator. For the uninitiated, try something different and even a bit of crazy things like what David Bordon and Tom Winters suggest in their book, "101 Things You Should Do Before Going to Heaven". For examples: Stop talking for a day; spend a day in isolation in reflection and contemplation; trace the family tree...... May be 2020 will turn out to be another great year!

Chapter 26: He Chose Sabah as His Home

Continuing from Chapter 25, my grandfather was a man of few words. His story telling to his grandchildren would mostly be about his punishment and beating by his strict father.

He stayed alone in the detached single room unit. As far as I could recall, he had never joined the rest of the family for any meal, be it in normal days or during festivals. We never asked about the reason for such an arrangement but accepted it as the unwritten understanding of the family. From Day 1 as far as I could remember, all meals and snacks were delivered from the house to his room by one of the grandchildren. Before breakfast or dinner, one of the grandchildren had to go to collect the plate, bowl and cup from a makeshift cupboard for filling/topping. Upon finishing his meal, he would proceed to do the cleaning of his utensils.

Every morning at week day after breakfast, he would leave and walk to the town to collect his cylinder of ice cream from the supplier for peddling. Even in days when he was not doing his trade, he would still leave and spend the day out. Unless he had fallen ill, he would have his lunch out in the town. Whenever he went out, he would put on his favourite pith helmet to shield against the sun and drizzle. This look had become a trademark of him in the neighbourhood.

Typical pith helmet.

Occasionally, he would invite and take one or two of his grandchildren out for a treat of a drink or beef noodle. Of course, as common practice in those days, young kids could never expect to enjoy a full cup of drink or a full bowl of noodle. For drink, the kid could only drink that little amount poured from the cup onto the saucer. The bulk of the drink would be reserved for the senior. Likewise, the youngster could only expect to eat a small portion of the noodle transferred to a smaller bowl from the main bowl. Still, we felt super happy to have such privilege of eating out in the shop which was considered a very rare event.

Lat captured the essence of the drinking culture of
 senior with his junior at old time.

My grandfather would be at his best attire came Sunday and major festivals, like Chinese New Year. He was not in the habit of going to Church every Sunday. But when he did, he would put on his white long sleeve shirt with cotton buttons and completed with a pair of white canvass shoes.

His health issue was asthma. Sometimes, his coughing could be heard deep into the night and interspersed with spitting of the phlegm. It may have been this health problem that caused him to refrain from joining the rest of the family for meals. By 1968, his health had significantly deteriorated. In the morning of 22 August 1968, a Thursday and I was getting ready to go to school. I was at my usual routine to collect the plate and cup from his room for breakfast. When I opened the door, I found him lying motionless on the floor, Instinctively, I reached out my fingers to check for any breathing through his nostrils. There was none. He had passed away peacefully. We didn't go to school that few days nor did my dad reported for work.

There was no funeral parlour in those days. That morning of 22 August 1968, my dad wasted no time to seek help from relatives to arrange for the funeral. The key task was to secure the service of pall bearers who were then commonly being referred as the "Eight Fairies". The service of pall bearers included purchase and delivery of coffin, digging of burial pit, encoffining the remains, transporting the coffin on an open lorry to the cemetery until burial.

I was present to witness my dad acting as the "mortician" in cleaning up the remains and putting on the final attire for the deceased. He performed the tasks like professional and with utmost respect to the deceased. My grandfather's final resting place is the KK Basel Church Cemetery in Likas.

My grandfather was neither a celebrity, a scholar nor a successful businessman. He was just one of the sojourners through this planet earth liked millions and millions before him. He is just a name in the long list of the family tree. From my conversation with him, he had never uttered a word about going back to China. He chose Sabah as his home and he is entitled to be counted as one of those pioneer Malaysians who tolled and worked hard in some of the earliest agriculture endeavours of the land like rubber and coffee. And coffee planting is still an economic activity in Sabah.

On a lighter note, this ice cream man of the old KK town did make many children grinned with happiness after they paid a couple of cents and were handed cones of ice cream!

The trait of adventurism and migration for better pasture typical of the Chinese is still ingrained in the descendants of the patriarch. Some in the 5th generation have already moved and made other countries as their homes.

Chapter 25: The Case of Being Called "Immigrants"

It is disheartening that even after 62 years of Malaya's independence and 56 years since the formation of Malaysia, there are still individuals - disturbingly, even among the educated - who cling to the notion that Malaysia belongs exclusively to a particular race. They view the minorities who migrated from China and India before independence as outsiders or foreigners. What is most troubling is that the Prime Minister of the day described such extreme view as "balanced"! (Read here).

During the 19th century, when Sabah (then North Borneo) was under British colonial rule, there was a pressing need for labourers, agriculturists, timber workers, and others to help develop the land. I believe it was in response to this call for manpower and opportunity that my paternal great-grandfather came to Sabah.

My grandfather was just a teenager when he left China and journeyed to Sabah with his father in early 1900s. I never knew my great-grandfather, Lee Kon Hee, as he passed away long before I was born. I was told he was buried at the Basel Christian Church Cemetery in Beaufort, though I have yet to locate his grave.

My great-grandfather, along with my grandfather Lee Thau Lim, his wife Chu En Lan, their two children (a son and a daughter), and other members of the clan, first settled in Beaufort. My grandfather likely took part in opening land for rubber plantations and worked as a rubber tapper. Sadly, in 1937, his wife passed away at a young age when my father was only 10. It was said that she was killed in an accident - possibly during a tree-felling operation, when a tree fell on her. My grandfather never spoke about the tragedy, which must have been deeply traumatic to him. Whether it was due to his enduring love for his wife or other personal reasons, he remained single for the rest of his life until his passing in 1968 -  31 years later.

I located my grandmother's grave when I visited the Basel Christian Church Cemetery in Beaufort on 23 March 2016. Her tombstone, which had been refurbished, was erected by my father in 1994.

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It's possible that, as a result of the accident, my grandfather decided to move his family to Sapong, located in the interior of what was then North Borneo. Sapong was well known for its coffee plantations, and it was likely his employment there that sustained the family for several years. Eventually, around 1947 or 1948, he and his son relocated to Kota Kinabalu (then known as Jesselton).

Upon arriving in KK, they rented a small plot of land from the Voo family in a quiet valley near what is now Jalan Istana (formerly Harrintgon Road). There, they built a modest timber house with an attap roof, marking the beginning of their new life in the city. A separate single-room annex was constructed beside the main house specifically for my grandfather's use. (Read here). 

Not long after settling in, my father entered into an arranged marriage with my mother and began working as a trainee tailor at a shop called Chu Chu Tailor on Gaya Street.

To earn some extra income, my grandfather took up ice cream peddling around the small town of KK and its surrounding neighbourhoods. Balancing a carrying pole on his shoulders, he would hang a cylindrical container filled with ice cream on one end, and on the other end, a basket holding ice cream cones and a small stool. As he walked through the town, he would ring a small bell to attract children - his main customers. School gates were among his most popular stops, often drawing eager crowds. 

By nightfall, after selling most of the ice cream, he would make his way home. On some days, a small amount of unsold ice cream remained at the bottom of the container. Those evenings were a special treats for the grandchildren, who gathered with joy to enjoy every last scoop scrapped from the bottom - a sweet reward and cherished memory from simpler times.

Typical peddler in the 1950s.

Family photo, like taken in 1967 with my grandfather seated 

in the front row. My father and my mother are at the back row, 

2nd and 3rd from right.

More than 110 years have passed since the arrival of the first immigrants in my family, and we are now into the sixth generation born and raised in this country. Yet, it is both absurd and deeply offensive that newer generations of Malaysians of Chinese descent continue to be labelled as "immigrants". This notion becomes even more nonsensical when considering those of Chinese heritage who have intermarried with local indigenous communities, further cementing their roots in this land. Such labelling not only disregards our shared history and contributions, but also undermines the spirit of unity that Malaysia aspires to uphold.

A Season to Live and a Season to Die

It is rare to receive news of the passing of three individuals whom I personally know in a mere three days interval, but it happened.

On the 3rd, I read from FB of the passing of a friend, a professional whom I have known through professional dealings as well as serving together in the committee of a professional body. It was a news unexpected because he was not considered old and without prior health issue. On the 4th, I was informed that the stepmother of my colleague has passed away. This was not unexpected as she was by then 91 years old and with poor health. Then on the 5th, the daughter of my uncle of my extended family called to inform of the passing of her mother, my uncle's spouse, aged 69.

That series of news instantly triggered the phrase, "There is a time to be born and a time to die...". The saying of King Solomon rings more vividly now that many of my peers are in their late sixties and seventies. News of passing is likely to be more frequent rather than less as this is the inevitable process of life.

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When I met my uncle, Wesley Pai on the 6th November at the funeral parlour, his teary eyes spoke volume of his sadness over the passing of his wife. His wife, after struggling with health issue since 2016, finally succumbed to her illness on 5th November. His daughter told me that earlier on, the doctor had recommended an operation be carried out to address her medical problem but her dad refused to sign the consent form. I believe he had come to a realization that it was better for her to "go" than to linger on with suffering and pain.

I was glad that I am one of the people he remembers. According to her daughter, Esther, his first reaction upon learning the death of his wife was to pull out my name card from his wallet and passed it to her to notify me.

Typical timber/bamboo

hut built on farm.

It's been quite a while since I first visited him in his family house in Kiulu in early 2013 (Read here). Now, even in his 80's, he is still sharp and physically fit. When we met, he was happy and eager to recall his unforgettable moment spent with my mother. With smile on his face and nostalgia, he told me of the private moment he spent with my mom when he was only seven and my mom then twelve. In one evening in 1940 in Kampung Pulutan, they were in a small hut in the fruit farm when he suddenly needed water to quench his thirst. Instantly, my mom left the hut alone to the nearby stream to get water for him. After some time, she came back walking gingerly and holding water with cupped hands. That gesture of my mom never left his memory!

He told me that with his spouse gone, it is unlikely that he would stay alone in his family house in Kiulu. He prefers to stay with his youngest daughter in KK.

With the patriarch, Wesley Dungko Pai
at the funeral parlour.

Besides wedding, funeral is probably another occasion to meet members of the whole or part of the family. I managed to meet five of the nine surviving children of Wesley.

Left to right: Linda (eldest), Esther (3rd),
Esther Paula Peter (wife of Moody),
Moody (2nd), Wesley Pai, Rudy (6th),
blogger, blogger's spouse,
Felecia Kajok (wife of Rudy),
Rachel (9th).  

The Idea of Leaving Something Tangible for Posterity

I was reading my earlier blog on my March's visit to Stanley (Read here) where we visited the former residence of the former prime minister of Australia, Joseph Lyons. That brief tour allowed me to see first hand that great minds and exceptional leaders can emerge from anywhere irrespective of how remote, simple or faraway the place of their birth. 

The simple timber house where Joseph Lyons once stayed is part of his legacy left for all future generations to cherish. It also enabled me to have a glimpse of how Australian families lived in the late 1800's. That old house to a certain extent helps to draw in some tourists to visit this outback town, Stanley who otherwise may not have decided to come. On dollars and cents, their arrivals also helps the locals to earn some extra money.

Former residence of Joseph Lyons.

The idea of whether to keep a former family home or some tangible items associated with the deceased may not be a simple and straight forward case sometimes. This could in rare cases evolve to become a deadly family feud and turn siblings to arch enemies. The recent most prominent case involving the former residence of the founding prime minister of Singapore, LKY is testament of this possibility (Read here). Indeed handling deceased's assets is not a simple matter. Could the LKY's case be more than what we read in the news? The challenge is always - How to determine what is deemed fair and equitable. This may be a problem of perception. What is deemed fair and equitable by the older generation may not be seen as fair and equitable by the next generation.

A recent topic of conversation is will writing and inheritance. The senior citizen fellowship, "Golden Joy" has again planned to invite a speaker to talk about this subject. Honestly, it may not be sufficient just to educate the seniors. Subsequent generations may need to be imparted with knowledge on this as well.

Captivating Tanjung Aru Sunset

Our friends from Vancouver, Daniel and Carol were back to Sabah to spend their holidays in August/September. Asked to choose a place for the get-together, they chose Tanjung Aru, the same venue where we gathered when they came back to Sabah exactly a year ago (Read here). The sunset at Tanjung Aru is still the undisputed attraction when come to sunset view and ambience!

For this gathering, I managed to get Peter Tsen to come to meet old friends whom he has not seen since 1970. It was a time of reminiscing and updating of our transition from students, singlehood,  parenthood and now grandparent. 

For the group photo and without prior intention, the four who first met in Sandakan way back in 1970 during the BCCM Youth Fellowship Convention posed in similar positions again after a lapse of 49 years!

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We met for a second time and this time less Peter Tsen at the UMS campus. UMS campus is not an unfamiliar place to us after our regular cycling within the campus since 2017. UMS is also a favorite destination for both locals and foreign tourists. It was reported that on a good sunny day, it may draw in as many as 1,000 visitors bringing in reasonable revenue to the university. Daniel and Carol too gave favorable comment about the campus.

Visitors normally start the tour with a video presentation
about the campus at the information center.

The seafront next to the jetty is a key attraction
of the campus.

At the Chancellery.

At the garden next to the Chancellery.

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After the UMS tour, we rushed to Kokol Hill hoping to catch another grand sunset view of KK. Our hope unfortunately was dashed because we were caught in a massive traffic jam from UMS to the junction leading to Kokol Hill. By the time we reached Kokol Haven, it was nightfall. What remained was streak of orange glow and the sun had disappeared below the horizon. Still the ambience at Kokol Haven proved to be magical and it did not disappoint the Voo's.

Sunset of KK viewed from Kokol Haven.

Livvie in KK

Livvie and her parents flew to KK on 5 September from Singapore and spent the next four days with her grandparents in KK. It was just shy of one year since the family last visited KK (Read here).

Though the visit was short, we managed to spend significant time together. She was very at ease with us since it was just a month ago when we last met in Singapore. Still, we discovered that there is boundary that we should not cross and taboo on certain subject. One evening when we were having dinner at a local hotel, we suggested to her to spend an evening with us so that her parents could have some private moment for themselves - may be to see a movie. Instantly, she went into "incommunicado" mode and shut herself from further communication with her grandparents. We realized that she was still not prepared to be separated from her parents especially in a place away from home.

 At the grandparents home.

 

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A very observant kid and she  imitated her gung-gung at the lajin bench.

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 At the Lok Kawi Wildlife Park or Lok Kawi Zoo as some like to call it.

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At the Sabah Arts Centre.

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Coffee break and playtime at One Roof Cafe.

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At Kokol Haven to enjoy KK sunset. Our visit coincided with a wedding going on at the resort.

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Dinner at a local hotel.

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Trying out the famous bau at Chakitiam.

Eating pao at Chakidiam Coffee Shop in Damai Plaza.

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First encounter with terap at Foh Sang shops.

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Her Chinese proficiency is improving fast.