My Longkang

I first met this old uncle when he was selling second hand books and bric-bracs An interesting enough character. Well dressed in a pressed long sleeved shirt, he did not seem the type to be sitting along the roadside selling nothing.

After watching him for a while, I went over to talk to him. On some days, he sold nothing, he said. At least 70 years old, he still bore glimpses of being a handsome man. He was charming and spoke a smattering of English words, which led me to believe he was an educated man.

Asked if he made a good living from the sales, he laughed. “I am here just to watch the world go by and chit-chat with my friends.”

He told me many stories. During the second world war, he and his family were living in what was then called 5th Street ( Go Tiaw Lo ) . The war had made the family to be in dire financial straits. His father had to pay the Japanese Army a huge sum of money, as did most of the other businessmen. What was left over was in the end acquisitioned by the Japanese Army.

To make a living, the sister a very young girl at that time woke up very early, made curry puffs and walked over to Burmah Road to sell. There were many rich people living there once.

Some were sympathetic and bought from her. She was advised many times not to sell by the people there but she had no choice. It was either that or starve.

There was a man who lived there who bought her whole stock every day for a week and asked her never to come back as he feared for her safety. But she still went back back every single day for a few months .

To me it was interesting that she was safe, unmolested and never once harassed even once during those days. To do the same under present –day circumstances…who knows what would happen. However, of course every one was afraid of the Japanese at that time. Or perhaps the Gods recognized her courage and resolve and protected her .

The family lived in a terrace house at that time. The old man, I will call Ah San for convenience sake. It was a beautiful house with ornately carved doors and windows. After it got too dangerous for the girl to go out and sell curry puffs, Ah San’s father came to his senses, stopped his grieving and started being practical. To earn money, the family home became a gambling den . Imagine that ! In Japanese occupied Malaya!

The patrons came at all hours of the day and played with packs of rectangular cards. He tried to explain the game to me but I couldn’t understand the basics but it was a little similar to ‘chiki’ played by housewives in the 80’s. For every set, the family would collect a certain amount as tips.

To justify that tip, the family had to provide endless pots of coffee and when that wasn’t available, pots of boiled water. Favorite patrons were accorded special privileges or in present day language ‘pampered’ or sucked up to.

The family’s apparent survival had a jolt one day. Two Japanese soldiers barged into the house one day. Luckily there were no patrons at that time. They were wearing bayonets, standing erect ( posture..not anything else just in case anyone else gets naughty thoughts  ) and brandishing swords.

What did they Want?

They wanted a son from every family to be enrolled in a special Japanese school. Ah San was overjoyed as it meant to him a chance to have at least a square meal every day. The father and mother were overcome with grief. Ah San was especially glad he would have a chance to get some education.

Amid wails and hysterics he left the family home with the soldiers and outside the home were many boys of different ages….some very timid and scared. As if they were on death row.