Sad News

            One afternoon, during the University break, I was sitting at home, reading, when I received a call from my mother. "Sue, Yi-Poh Sa-Yi (Third Grandaunt) has passed away, can you try and prepare Mama? Someone is on the way to take her to their house."

            I was taken aback. Of course, Mama and her sisters were already in their seventies and eighties, but there had been no indication at all that there was anything wrong with Yi-Poh Sa-Yi. I was at a loss as to what to do, and said a short prayer about it. Then I recalled a similar incident in one of Elizabeth Gaskell's novels, "Wives and Daughters", which I had just read.

            "Mama," I said, "could you please change and get ready? Aunty is coming to get you as Yi-Poh Sa-Yi is not feeling well."

 

            Instantly, I could see a shadow of worry on my grandmother's face. I could see that she was preparing herself for the worst. This was just as well, because when Yi-Poh Sa-Yi's daughter arrived, grief was clearly written on her face. Mama reached out to console her, and they all drove off.

            Later, I told my mum what I had said to Mama, and she was relieved that I had found a way of preparing Mama for the sad news.

 

            Both Mama and Yi-Poh Sa-Yi used to prepare achar-achar. This is the Peranakan version of pickles. It consists of vegetables such as cucumber, carrot, cauliflower and green chillies pickled with salt and vinegar. However, unlike the Chinese version, they are bathed in a golden-brown gravy, which contains ground peanuts, among other ingredients. Also, the green chillies are stuffed with finely shredded, incredibly sour strands of unripe papaya.

 

            Making achar-achar takes time, as the vegetables have to be washed, cut up, squeezed and then sun-dried for a day or so. However, assuming that the entire process has been rigorously carried out, the jars of pickles can be kept for a few months.

            We love eating this with char kway teow, our beef balls or any other dish with which pickles would be a good accompaniment.      

 

            Mama's version was slightly different from Yi-Poh Sa-Yi's in terms of some ingredients used. I think this made the achar uniquely their recipes, since each sister must have modified what was passed down to her from her mother to suit her own purposes and tastes.

Mama's Legacy

            Another time, during a University holiday, I felt rather unwell. This began during the day, but by evening, I was feeling so unwell that I put my head on the armrest. Mama stroked it and both she and mum were rather concerned about me. The next day, spots began appearing on my arms and we realized that I had contracted chickenpox.

            I took a taxi to Tan Tock Seng Hospital, where a doctor saw me and prescribed me medication.

           When I got home, I did not take the medicine at once, but waited until dinner time. My Aunt, who was a nurse, scolded me when she found out, as she said that the sooner I took the medicine, the better it would be for me.

            She was, of course, correct. The spots had appeared all over my face as well as on other parts of my body and were only arrested when I started taking the medication.

            Fortunately for me, it was the University holidays, so I had plenty of time to mope around the house while convalescing.

            Someone told Mama that she had to boil a certain vegetable and make me drink the water so that my skin would not be permanently stained by the spots. Mama very diligently saw to this and made sure that I drank this drink regularly. I still remember her continually making the effort to boil large quantities of the drink so that I could drink it whenever I felt thirsty and even when I did not.

            I really must have looked awful during this time, as one of my older cousins dropped by to pass something to Mama and he had the fright of his life when I stood up to face him. He let out a loud yelp of fright before Mama explained to him what I had contracted.

            Mama's efforts paid off and eventually I recovered from the chickenpox without any scarring whatsoever. To this day, I remember with great gratitude the tremendous amount of care she took of me.

            Mama's warmth was perhaps best expressed, for me, through the food that she cooked. The best instance of this, to me, was when she cooked "satay cherlop".

                                                                        

            This is the Peranakan version of satay, which is quite different from the Malay version. As with the Malay version, the meat is skewered on sticks. However, unlike the Malay version, the meat is stewed in a golden gravy which has been thickened with ground peanuts and which also contains chunks of pineapple and slices of tomato.

            Our version of satay can be eaten with ketupat (or pressed rice cakes), but we also eat it with bread (and normally prefer to). Chunks of cucumber and slices of onion can be added as side dishes, just as with Malay satay.

            Satay cherlop, unlike some of our other dishes, is not so spicy. Its gravy is mild, rich and soothing. This, together with the happy sensation of eating slightly more meat than usual, always contributes to giving me a warm sense of well-being and of being well-cared for. To me, it epitomises the warmth of Mama's love for us and the good care that she took of us.

            Once, when I was in school, our teacher asked us to write about a legacy that had been left to us. I wrote about my grandmother, about how she had given up her gold tree and belt when my grandfather lost his fortune after the war. Those were the sacrifices that she made for her family. However, looking back now over the years, I realise that her true legacy was the unswerving care with which she tended to us always.

            She was always up early in the mornings, bustling around to make breakfast for us. When any of us had to wake early, we would tell her the night before and she would make it her business to wake us on time. Now I realise that we did place a tremendous burden on her, because she used to tell us how she would sometimes wake up at night and shine a torch at her alarm clock. She was probably even afraid to fall asleep again lest she should oversleep.

            She continued in this way, also overseeing household chores and the preparation of almost every meal until she was eighty-six years old. By this time, she was really worn out. Sadly, her mind and body have progressively degenerated such that she is now incapable of moving on her own, or even of saying very much.

            We love her for all that she's done for us, all that she was and is. She was our Rock, stoic and unassuming, silent and strong.