My space.

Maybe it's because I've finally become old enough to understand and take an interest in my family's history, or maybe it's because my family has only begun to talk to me about the past and ancestors of this family, but recently, since coming back to Malaysia i've been finding out some really interesting - and at times downright horrifying - details of my family, dating back to the time of my greatgrandfather,and there it all stops because he migrated here and nothing much is known about his life before he came to Malaysia. Other things that I've found out about my family is not amazing, it may not even be interesting to other people, but as I sit down in a circle with my aunt, and listen to her tell tales of her childhood I just drink them in and still feel thirsty for more and more. At times it's nothing more than basic details of daily life, but it still amazes me at times when I compare how different life was then and now.

The same house that I am living in now was at one time nothing more than a two room shack, with the wooden walls just barely reaching the roof, leaving open a gap thru which moths and mosquitoes could lazily flap and buzz in at ease. The land on which it stood was low, and so everytime it rained, the water would come washing thru the house, and after residing, everything would be covered in silt and mud. There was no running water, not even a well outside the home, and the water had to be fetched from the bottom of the hill in two buckets on either side of a long bamboo pole which was balanced on the shoulders my then scrawny little uncles. At night one kerosene lamp would be lit, and around this the children of the family would gather to do their homework.

This was my mothers house in which she lived with her family ever sinced she turned fourteen.

Before this time tho, she had lived with her Grandparents with her other 4 siblings, whilst her mother and father and the other 2 siblings were in Singapore, where her father worked as a policeman. At that time there was only 6 children. Over time there would be nine.

My mothers grandfather was from Hyderabad, India, and he migrated here to Malaysia for reasons unknown except for what my mother said that he once told her "In India I couldn't even eat a cow in peace! The neighbours tried to kill me when I wanted to eat my own cow, here in Malaysia it's no problem" But I'm sure that that was just another story , the type that  grandfathers like to tell their wide-eyed, all-believing grandchildern. He had most probably come as a migrant during the British occupation of Malaysia looking for work, as did other thousands of Indians. I have no memory of him, as he died even before my mother was married, May Allah have mercy on him Ameen.

His wife, my mothers grandmother, was from the second generation of a  Yemeni family who had moved to Malaysia; also for reasons unknown except that they felt like it I suppose.They were from Hadhramaut.She was an extremely small lady, with striking features, A woman of great beauty at one time, and what I remember most was her eyes. She lived to the age of 95 and until the day she died she had jet black hair, and she had all of her teeth and her eyesight was marvellous sharp. May Allah have mercy on her too Ameen.

They had two children together this couple, My grandmother and her sister, and my greatgrandmother also had a daughter from a previous marriage; a daughter who was to bring great grief to my mother and her siblings in their young days, as the ages long war of step-daughter rivalry was waged between the siblings, with the Grandfather showing favor to his children and their kids, and the Grandmother on the other hand showing fierce contempt to my mother and her siblings whilst being all in the favor of the daughter from the former marriage.

My Grandmother. She died whilst I was only a year old. May Allah have mercy on her. She died only a year after my Grandfather, and it was from heartbreak they say, because she loved my grandfather so much, and found life to be empty without him. May Allah have mercy on them both Ameen..

She was schooled during the Japanese occupation, my grandmother, and she experienced many of the hardships which come along with war and occupation. The Japanese were a hard and cruel people she told my mother, at school everyday they were made to face the rising sun and sing praises to it. During school hours, instead of studying, the Japanese soldiers would stand guard over the school children as they weeded and tended to their school yard - now turned vegetable garden. Those Japanese sure know how to make use of things, she would tell my mother. They used to speak Japanese at school too, and no other language was permitted.

Speaking of the Japanese occupation, there was an old man across the road from me who was very much involved with them. When I was 16 he would tell me and my brother about them. "So cruel!" He spat "They used to make us chop off the heads of our own people!" I was looking forward to coming home this time so that I could hear more of his stories, but to my great disappointment, he passed away just 1 week before I reached Malaysia...May Allah grant him peace Ameen..

One time there was an air raid, and as my grandmother ran screaming thru the streets, a bomb exploded in front of her and with her own eyes she saw her uncle blown apart to pieces. Sometimes at night she and her sister would have to seek refuge in the nearby rubber plantations from the soldiers who would come and ransack their house.

But despite the war, my grandmother and her family were considered to be well off at a time when most people went hungry and had nothing more to eat than cassava leaves and roots. 'They still drank Milo' my mother told me 'They drank milk and they had butter on their bread'. It was mainly because my greatgrandmother had a little family wealth, so she was able to keep her family healthy despite the war.

During this time my Greatgrandfather had disappeared. Leaving for India a little while before the Japanese occupation he told his family that he would be back soon. More than ten years passed and he never did come back and not a word was heard from him. His wife and children took him to be dead, But one day he suddenly showed back up again. War had held him back he said. The passage was blocked. And along with his shocking appearance came the revelation that he had married again in India, and now had two more children, left behind in India.

Life continued for my grandmother with her father now home again. She had to leave school at the age of fifteen in order to work so that she could help pay for her younger sisters education. She did menial jobs such as backbreaking jobs of planting rice, picking wild herbs from the forest and selling them, and making 'kuih' small sweets for sale. Life was beginning to get tough. But despite her little education, my mother always tells me proudly that she was 100 times smarter than her sister whom she put thru college, but she was also smarter than all of the people in the village!

Soon my grandmother was to marry my grandfather at the age of 19. They had been betrothed before my grandfather left on duty. It was war, and he was a naval officer. Time passed and it was feared that he was lost also, but in time he also came back. It turned out that he was marooned on an island with his other mates and so escaped alot of the war 'excitement'.

After the marriage 'of the beautiful lady to the un-handsome man' as my aunt loves to say, my grandmother went to live in Singapore, and there she had 4 children, living in a 2 room house and one of her children was born on the stairs.


*yawn* I will continue later, my eyes are so sleepy...such an unceremonious ending to a great story no? but sleep is a-calling...

• 
• 
• 
• 
•