Page 18 - KCMAGAZINE 20230717

Not long ago I was told of a certain maw soup. Cincalok (fermented small shrimps).
West and East, someone. A distinguished someone——a man Chendol. Paiti.

who, Father had claimed all too lightly, would save

Father had dismissed all of our household
Melodies Entwined us from sinking into the grimy nightlife of peasants servants ever since he lost his fortune in the
who lurked outside on Jonker Street.
shipping business several years back——
A thin parchment rested upon Father's a repercussion of the Great Depression which
Written by Goh Li Lian desk. In a swift movement, he lifted his long, began in the far West, in a country Father called

wooden calligraphy brush again. “誌”, ambition. “America”. The past few years were walked
Black ink bled into the blood-red, seemingly on a tightrope, we had slipped from the comforts
painting a new chapter out of this gloom. of first-class respectability to that of dwindling

honour.
It was evening when Father dismissed me.
The mellow tones of Baba Malay faltered into Soon enough the man arrived. He was in
silence, leaving only the irritated clucks of Father's a crisp, grey suit. He was a height of power. His
ill-tempered concubine. In the dim corridor of the voice was gentle as he praised the needlework of

Foo mansion, my head swam in the liquid sunlight my floral-patterned handwoven fans and beaded
bleeding in from the carved wooden screens. My manek slippers. His eyes——how startling they
fingers skimmed the three interlinked kerongsang seemed to me when a shadow of opportunity

brooches latched upon my magenta nyonya kebaya passed through them, when he laid them on my
front. I traced every jut of its peacock carving, self-embroidered nyonya kebayas, rich in vibrant
pinching the studded stones on its golden surface. motifs of flowers, butterflies, phoenixes, dragons
and insects. I seemed to witness their beauty, all
The man will be visiting tomorrow. Father over again, through his astonished eyes.

had ordered me to gather my finest embroideries,
and I was to put them on display below our The following morning came like a dream.
Guanyin praying altar in the formal reception hall.

Mother came the next morning to help with my “You speak a little English?”
dressing.
“Yes, I had a tutor some years back.”
A silver belt wrapped around my floral-
patterned batik sarong. Three interlinked “Your father says you never leave the

kerongsang brooches in the form of a phoenix house gramophone.”
clasped to my wine-red nyonya kebaya. Tiny,
golden hairpins slipped into my smooth, black “I do, only to do what a human has to

hair bun. Her old diamond pendant rested on my do.”
chest, a gesture of affection.
“You embroider cloths as you listen to
I led the way to the kitchen. Mother and Chopin.”
the concubine had prepared seven traditional

dishes for the man. Itik tim (salted duck soup). “Yes, some old recordings Father brought
Illustration by Goh Li Lian
Acar (spicy pickled vegetables). Spring rolls. Fish back from the West before his fortune was lost.”
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