(The series of postings under the title above are especially meant for all my nephews and nieces, who I believe at one time or another are wondering at the awkwardness and weirdness of my relationship with my parents in particular and with the family in general. These are the expressions of my feelings about some events in my life and the implications of those events from my own perspective. Writing about some of these events is my own way of coming to terms with them.)
When I was around six months old I was taken away by my aunt (my father's eldest sister) to live with her back in Sabak Bernam.
To this very day, I was not clear about the actual incident that took place which enabled my aunt to snatch me away from my parents. All I knew is that my aunt, who was barren and who became my adopted mother, was having some marital problems and was staying with my grandparents at that time. My grandfather, it seemed, took both me and my eldest brother from our home in Kuala Kangsar to his home in Slim River, perhaps just to spend time and dot on us, as we were their very first grandchildren. When it was time to return us to our parents, only my brother came home, whereas I was already with my adopted parents in Sabak Bernam. This event, I was told, almost cost my parents their marriage. Both my mum and dad were filial children, devoted to their families and hardly dared to go against their elders even when their baby daughter was taken away against their wishes to be their sister's and brother in-law's adopted child. All they could do was fought one another. What really drove the point even more painful, especially for my mum, was the fact that mum and dad had another five boys after me but I am their only daughter.
So began my life with my adopted parents back in Sabak Bernam. I have a new identity that sticks to me for the rest of my life. I had a new birth certificate where mum's name was my adopted mother's name and likewise dad's name was my adopted father's name. In my birth certificate I was born in Batu 40, Sabak Bernam, Selangor, when in reality I was born in Bukit Chandan, Kuala Kangsar, a different state away. Those days it was easy to get a birth certificate, as there were not many documentations needed in order to register the birth of a child. I also believed there must have been some bribery involved for the matter to be so easily resolved.
Throughout my teens and my twenties I had a lot of personal and emotional issues about having my adopted parents' names in all my official documents. I did not understand the need to do that as both sets of parents are actually close relatives. I was resentful at my parents for not making enough effort to take me back and angry at my adopted parents for taking me away from my parents and my siblings. Truthfully, a lot of the anger and frustrations were the results of the unhappy domestic situations. I just couldn't help thinking I was adopted just as a mean to save the couple's failing relationship. I felt like I was being used. In retrospection, I personally feel that couples should very thoroughly discuss the issues of adoption before they go out and commit themselves to it. Looking at the then scenario from another angle, my adopted mum was in a desperate situation. Those were the times when most wives depend on their husbands for their livelihood. My aunt was desperately trying to save her marriage, as being divorced means going back to her parents and burdening them with another mouth to feed since the parents were not well off themselves. It was her third marriage anyway and so she decided perhaps a child would be the answer. In the late fifties, there were no counselling programmes, no public assistance bureau, no NGOs and job opportunities for women were scarce as in most families women were not well educated.
When I was around four we moved to Sungai Ayer Tawar (SAT). My adopted parents rented a house on the outskirt of that very small town and most of my earliest childhood memories were from that time. I can say that the period that we were in SAT was the happiest that can be said about my life with my adopted parents. It was almost idyllic. The typical wooden house had a very very large compound, with all manner of fruit trees around. All kinds of jambu trees were there. The big white jambu susu, the green and red jambu bol, the very sour jambu air which were red and also white in colour and of course the very common small jambu batu. There were also mangosteen, langsat, rambai, soursop and pomegranate trees and even the present day exotic namnam shrubs were there. There were also plenty of coconut trees and therefore for cooking purposes we never had to buy coconuts. We raised chickens and ducks and there was a large pond beside the house with plenty of freshwater fishes. The house was rented out with all the coconut trees and fruit trees for us to consume. I remembered the owner of the house very seldom ventured into our compound and as a family we were left to our own devices. The owner and his family lived in another house opposite ours, a distance of almost 3/4 of a kilometre away. He was a hard-working wealthy landowner who was not much into possessions and thus led a very simple kampung life and he and my adopted father became close friends.
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| Nerdy-looking kid. Studio photo at SAT. Dress was sewn by adopted mum and hair was permed as it was fashionable then. Adopted mum even put on her "gelang minggu" on me. Loved the black-and-white shoes very much. |
In SAT my days were spent either playing with whatever form of home-made toys there were in the house or exploring the large compound to my heart content. It was definitely a healthy environment for a child to grow up, with plenty of fresh air and plenty of trees all around. In front of the house, there was a large shady cempaka tree which was my favourite spot. In the nearby pond, a coconut tree had fallen down across the pond and the trunk became a makeshift bridge for me while I tried to scoop up tadpoles from the pond using empty coconut shells. I would spent hours under the cempaka tree, picking up the sweet smelling fallen petals and sometimes lying down on my back on the pile of dead leaves looking up at the sunshine peeking through the leaves of that huge tree, speaking to myself, inventing stories and telling them to my imaginary friend. Mostly the invented stories were about magical kings and queens with their princes and princesses, stories that I modified from the ones told by the adults around me. Oh yes, story-telling was still around then. At that time books were non-existent in the life of most young children, unless of course if you were from a very wealthy families and you lived in the big towns. The houses in that rural neighbourhood were far apart, sometimes like a kilometre or half a kilometre away from one another and it was not very often that I met other children. Nowadays, I think, most children would be scared to play under such a huge tree like that, let alone wander around in that huge compound by themselves.
As a parent, my adopted father was a gentle and loving man and he just adored me. Even though adopted, I was the apple of his eyes and to the best that he could afford he never denied anything I wanted. He was all the father I knew, because later on in life, when my adopted parents divorced, I could not really have a connection with my own biological father the way I did with him. My adopted mum on the other hand, tried her best to be a good mum to me. Even as child, I felt that she was a complicated person, prone to quick outbursts of temper, had a lot of personal insecurity issues and much lacking maternal instincts. Nowadays, I just like to remember her for the other good qualities that she had, for example, she was a hard-working, industrious lady who contributed much to the family income with her relentless effort. She became a hired hand in the paddy fields, during both planting and harvesting seasons. She weaved mengkuang mats, made bedak sejuk and sewed pillow-cases and table cloths to be sold to her neighbours.
When I was around six, we had to move back to Sabak Bernam because my adopted father, who worked in the irrigation department got transferred back there. Very soon I began schooling. My idyllic daily life in SAT was slowly giving way to something sad and troubling.
(To be continued.................)
