Chapter 26: 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 revisiting my blog from my March trip to Stanley, Tasmania (Read here), where I had the privilege of visiting the former residence of Australia’s former Prime Minister, Joseph Lyons. That brief yet poignant tour offered me a powerful insight: exceptional leaders and brilliant minds can emerge from the most unexpected places, regardless of how remote, humble, or far-flung their origins might be.

The simple timber house where Joseph Lyons once lived stands as a testament to his enduring legacy - a legacy that future generations will have the chance to appreciate and learn from. It was fascinating to step back in time and experience, even if just for a moment, how Australian families lived during the late 1800s. That house, with its rich history, not only connects us to the past but also serves as a magnet for visitors - many of whom might not have considered venturing to this peaceful outback town of Stanley otherwise.

From a practical perspective, the presence of this historical site also provides an economic boost to the locals. Tourists visiting the site contribute to the town’s economy, offering an opportunity for residents to earn extra income and for the town to share its unique story with a broader audience.

Former residence of Joseph Lyons.

The decision of whether to preserve a family home or keep tangible items associated with a loved one who has passed away is rarely a straightforward one. In some cases, it can even evolve into a bitter family dispute, turning siblings into fierce adversaries. A recent, high-profile example of this is the case surrounding the former residence of Singapore’s founding Prime Minister, Lee Kuan Yew (LKY), which has sparked much debate and media attention (Read here). This case is a powerful reminder that managing the assets of a deceased loved one is never simple.

Could there be more to LKY's case than what we’ve been told in the headlines? It raises the critical question of how we determine what is considered “fair” and “equitable” when it comes to inheritance. Often, this isn't a matter of legal clarity but a matter of perception. What one generation views as fair may not align with how the next generation perceives it, creating a gap that can lead to tension and misunderstanding.

A topic that has been coming up more frequently in discussions is will writing and inheritance. The senior citizens’ fellowship group of BCCM KK (E), “Golden Joy,” has once again organized a session to invite a speaker to address this very issue. But, to be honest, simply educating the older generation may not be enough. It’s equally important that the younger generations are also equipped with knowledge and an understanding of how to handle these matters sensitively and wisely. Without this shared understanding, the complexities of inheritance could continue to fuel conflict across families for generations to come.

Captivating Tanjung Aru Sunset and Reunion

Our friends from Vancouver, Daniel and Carol, were back in Sabah for their holidays this August/September. When asked to choose a venue for our long-awaited get-together, they once again picked Tanjung Aru - the very same spot where we had gathered exactly a year ago (Read here). True to its reputation, Tanjung Aru remains the undisputed gem for its breathtaking sunsets and serene ambience.

For this reunion, I was delighted to bring along Peter Tsen, who had not seen some of our friends since 1970. The evening was filled with laughter, reminiscence, and heartfelt conversations as we traced the journey of our lives - from carefree student days, through singlehood and parenthood, and now into the chapter of grandparenthood.

A special moment unfolded when, without any prior planning, the four of us who first met in Sandakan during the BCCM Youth Fellowship Convention in 1970 instinctively posed in the same formation for a group photo - recreating a memory after 49 long years!

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Our gathering continued with a second meet-up, this time at the UMS campus without Peter joining us. Having cycled there regularly since 2017, the place has become quite familiar to us, and we knew our guests would enjoy it too. UMS is not only a popular leisure spot for locals but also a draw for foreign tourists, with reports saying that on sunny days the campus welcomes up to 1,000 visitors - contributing a healthy revenue stream to the university. Daniel and Carol were equally impressed and gave glowing remarks about the campus’ beauty and vibrancy.

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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From UMS, we made a spirited dash to Kokol Hill, eager to catch yet another stunning sunset over Kota Kinabalu. Unfortunately, a massive traffic jam along the way delayed us, and by the time we finally reached Kokol Haven, night had already descended. All that remained was a faint streak of orange on the horizon, the sun having long slipped away. Still, the charm of Kokol Haven more than compensated for the missed sunset. Its cool air, peaceful setting, and magical atmosphere left Daniel and Carol - the Voo’s - thoroughly delighted.

Sunset of KK viewed from Kokol Haven.

Livvie in Kota Kinabalu

Livvie and her parents flew from Singapore to Kota Kinabalu on 05.09.2019, spending the next four days with her grandparents. It had been just under a year since their last visit to KK (Read here), and we were all eagerly anticipating the reunion.

Although the visit was brief, we made the most of our time together. Livvie was relaxed and at ease with us - likely because it had only been a month since we last met in Singapore. That familiarity made our interactions warm and natural, yet it also reminded us that, even in close families, there are personal boundaries to honour, and some suggestions, however well-meant, may not land as intended.

One evening over dinner at a local hotel, we casually proposed that Livvie spend the night with us so her parents could have a little private time - maybe even catch a movie together. The change in her expression was immediate. She withdrew into herself, falling silent and avoiding eye contact, as if an invisible wall had gone up.

In that quiet moment, we understood: she wasn’t ready to be apart from her parents, especially in an unfamiliar place. It was a gentle but important reminder that emotional readiness - particularly in young children - can’t be hurried. Sometimes, love means stepping back, respecting unspoken feelings, and allowing comfort and trust to grow in their own time.

At the grandparents home.

 

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A very observant child 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.

Rest in Peace - Alene Moris

An ex-Lok Yuk schoolmate posted in his Facebook on 3 September to inform the passing of Alene Moris. Alene or Mrs Moris whom her students liked to address her was my English Literature teacher in Lok Yuk School way back in 1966. Her passing on 31 August coincided with the Independence Day of Malaya.

Her husband, Pastor Walter Moris was sent by the Lutheran Church of America in mid 1960s to pastor the English congregation of the Church of BCCM KK. Alene and their children too joined him for this overseas mission. Mrs. Alene Moris was assigned to teach in Lok Yuk Secondary School, first at the old school in Signal Hill and later on at the new school premise in Likas.

She was one teacher I just could not forget. She was the only teacher I can remember who wept for her students. Her desire to see her students genuinely understood her teaching and excelled in the subject she taught was unprecedented. In those days, many of us had just transitioned from Chinese primary school to English medium secondary school and had difficulty conversing in English. Trying to understand English Literature taught by an English speaking foreigner (with American accent) was at best understood at a score of 2 out of 10 in most occasion. In the end, she wept in front of her Form 2 class when she felt so helpless to teach a bunch of "ignorance" and "mediocrity"!

In the end, her teaching was not in vain. Not long ago, a few of the classmates reminisced the old days of learning from Mrs. Moris.

One commented: "That sweet gracious lady Mrs. Moris, I remember her. She has a beautiful voice when she sang".

Another commented: "I was in her choir and we were champion in the inter-school competition. I sang tenor. She was very serious in our practice. I remember she cried when some of us were not paying attention". This chap could even recall her teaching the class the poem, "The Donkey" by G.K. Chesterton.

Alene Moris

1928 - 2019 

(Photo downloaded from Alene's FB)

Part of the teaching staff of Lok Yuk 

Secondary School, 
Likas (Photo taken between 1966 & 1967).
Arlene Moris is 3rd from left.

Arlene Moris is at front row, 2nd from right.
Her husband, Pastor Walter Moris is at front row, 1st left.

I lost contact with her since she left Sabah in 1969. It was only in late 2017 after a lapse of 48 years that I was able to link up with her again. Her email on 30 October 2017 summarizes her life since she left Sabah in 1969.

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Alfred:

I am glad we were able to connect through e-mail. I have used e-mail since the early nineties and Google for the last ten years. I must become a learner again! I am going to be 90 years old next March. My husband, Rev. Walter Moris died in 1996 at the age of 70. For the last 12 years, I have been the "special friend" of Floyd Jones, a very generous philanthropist here in Seattle.

My four children all remember Sabah very fondly. My two sons, Erik and Karl, took me to visit Kota Kinabalu in 1998. It was wonderful to see Lok Yuk still flourishing though very different! My daughter, Kristina has her own company in New York but she works many times on assignment in Europe (she is there now). My older daughter, Karin, lives with her family just 40 miles north of Seattle.

We attended the English service while we were in Sabah. It has a different style of worship from the style we had when we were there. But I was excited to see the energy and enthusiasm of  the members. I remember well when I led the church choir and the choir at Lok Yuk. Shortly before we returned to the States in July 1969. I had the thrill of directing the massed choir of the male singers from three Christian senior schools. We sang Dona Nobis Pacem which is Latin for Give Us Peace. (The terrible Viet Nam War was going on.)

After doing graduate work in psychology, I have had a very busy professional life for almost 47 years. I am still doing public speaking at the University of Washington and many other places. You can "Google" me if you wish. I have concentrated on getting women into leadership positions because I know that they will work very hard not to have war.

We have a very bad president right now, Donald Trump. I am afraid he could lead us into another war.

Americans have been much too quick to go to war. God forgive us all! My latest speech was entitled "Women Leaders: Will They Make a Difference?" and the conclusion is that we need 50% men and 50% women to have the wisdom (Lao Tze) needed for peace. I use the yin/yang expression to express what I hope will come about. Probably not in my lifetime. We will keep on having what I call a "distorted reality" where we don't use the intelligence and compassion of ALL the citizens. Our Congress in Washington D.C. has only 19% female members and the Congress is a disaster and very dangerous and ugly in its behavior.

I must stop discussing this difficult topic. I usually am more cheerful!

Thanks again for contacting me and helping me to recall those happy years in Sabah 1965-1969.

I enjoyed seeing the photo of your family. What a good looking group of people. You must be happy to have such a clan!

For now    Alene Moris

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Alene is a woman of exceptional quality. Her perseverance, unrelenting pursuit of knowledge and empowerment of women are truly an inspiration for all. The blog of Alene's friend's granddaughter is an apt tribute to her long and fruitful life (Tap and Read Here).