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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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