Crazy Aunties

The house that I moved into at Geylang Sims Avenue was previously occupied by my grandma, uncles and aunties. They were in their teens then, the youngest being eight or more years older than I was. Their family background is a bit complicated. I call them my uncles and aunties but they are actually my mom's adopted family. My mother's parents perished soon after the war and she was left in the care of a good friend of her dad's. In those uncertain times back then, it was normal to have sworn sisters and brothers so you could guarantee some future for your own children should something untoward happened to you.

My uncles and aunties real parents also passed away early in that Geylang house, why subsequently, the tenants after us would complain that it was terribly haunted. They would often see a man and woman in their 40s appear in the hallways. Perhaps that one time when I saw a pair of ghosts was actually them.

My aunties' mom passed away because of cancer, so her sister-in-law took over as mother to her children. They all treated her like a mother but called her "say ku" or fourth aunt.

Into this mix was an aunty from my father's side. She stayed with us for a while. Her stay didn't last long because she was rather insane. My mom often told us how at certain times of the month, this aunt would remove her sanitary pad and showed it around, asking (in Cantonese): "Eh, why like that one?" -even when you were busy cooking over a wok.

This brood of uncles and aunties from my mother's side consisted of three sons and two sisters. There was another son but he committed suicide with his girlfriend soon after his parents disapproved of them dating. Back then parents were very strict about such a thing while still studying. It was a pity because that boy was a brilliant student. The other boys in the family were also a studious lot and loved to read and play chess. The eldest seemed to have the greatest potential and my mom was asked to sacrificed her own studies so she could work and help send him and the others to school. She shouldn't have because he was quite the ingrate, never quite repaying my mom for her sacrifice. My mom was intelligent so she could have made something more of herself if she had the chance to finish school.

In those days, studious people tended to have a rather narrow outlook in life. They also had poor people skills and most times think the world should all behave in a certain way. I think my uncle took it as his birth-right that people should help him through school.

Unlike my uncles, my eldest aunt was a talkative person who was very witty and had an opinion on almost any subject. She was the one who dated this guy from a tailor shop near Gay World and who drove a Mini. We often accompanied her as little chaperons.

One day, at our home, she ushered us children into a room. It must have be a Chinese New Year holiday or something because we had other children visiting also. We thought she was going to teach us a new game or tell us a story. Instead she whipped out her cigarettes and proceeded to light one up. She then passed it to me. "Take a puff," she said. Whoah! I was surprised. Is this really happening?

My dad smoked but he was very adamant that we didn't. That made me very curious. Many a times, when my dad sent me out to buy cigarettes from a neighbouring Mama store, I was tempted to light one up but didn't. The closest was to put one to my lips and pretended. Now, finally given the opportunity to smoke one, I took it and puffed. I think I choked and coughed almost immediately. Tears welled up in my eyes. It was altogether quite terrible!

The other kids took turns to puff. Our decision was unanimous: Smoking tasted awful! How can anyone smoke such a foul thing!

My aunt laughed and took back what was left of the cigarette. "See," she said, and wagged a finger. "This is why you all shouldn't smoke." I think she made her point that day. I am grateful because that unpleasant moment of smoking stuck forever with me. Not once was I ever tempted to start. Not in school, not in the army during National Service.

The only thing I tried a few times was a cigar. And that was because it was a bit of a craze in the late 90s, together with wine appreciation. Even girls smoked cigars then, preferring the slim ones.

So I was only five when I started smoking and stopped.

Another aunty that was rather unusual was this lady who was a good friend of my mom's. She lived in Bedok along Lor Haji. Her husband was a pharmaceutical rep so they were pretty well-off. They stayed in a single-storey bungalow not far from a big kampung there. Going to their place was like driving into a jungle. And because the house was surrounded by vegetation, mosquitoes abound after sundown. We often had to take a cab there and bring along "mun yau", which was a tiny bottle of Axe brand medicated oil good for bites as well as a repellent.

This aunty had a daughter. I always remember her as someone very pale and skinny. According to my mom, she was always having terrible periods, why she was often pale and weak. The last time I saw her was at a Pre-U seminar in the old Nanyang University campus. I wonder how she is doing now, if she still looked as pale as a vampire (great for a role in Twilight) and if she still suffered from menorrhagia. Kind of ironic and tragic for a vampire to suffer from that disorder, actually.

I think a reason for her being so weak could be that her mom had not wanted her in the first place. When she was pregnant with this 'cousin' of mine, she actually wanted to abort the child. Apparently she and her hubby didn't get on very well. He travelled often because of his work and she didn't quite like that. This aunty was rather pretty in a vivacious way. She had one of those beehive hairdo  popular with many Hong Kong actresses then, coiffure like those worn by Siu Fong Fong and Chan Poh Chu. She also liked to dress in designer pant suits, altogether quite the "happening" chick in those days.

The way she went about her abortion was classic. Instead of going to a doctor about it, she decided to climb and jump off a coconut tree. Staying near a big kampung like that big one in Jalan Haji in Bedok meant she was not short of coconut trees to choose from. And she choose did. Another method she tried was to eat copious amounts of pineapple. This method was common folklore then. In the end, I don't know what happened, but my 'cousin' was born. She was a sickly baby and grew up so. The only consolation was that her dad dealt in drugs and could give her free medicines for her condition.

Because my aunties were older, they kind of adopted me and my brother as godchildren. The eldest aunty doted on my brother while my youngest aunty wanted to do likewise with me. But I had have enough of crazy aunties and resisted. Besides, she was too nice and pretty. I just couldn't see her as aunty material. Nope.

Related story: Book of Life and A Firecracker Fight Next story: Dog Fight Porridge

A Firecracker Fight

If you were a regular visitor to the National Library at Stamford Road during the late 70s and early 80s, you might have noticed a rather strange fella hanging outside the place. His hair was wiry, unkempt, and his face was dirt-stained. In fact he was altogether quite unwashed. But he wore a business suit still and carried a small black briefcase - something you don't see people do nowadays. It's all about smartphones or manbags now.

When you see this man, he is often mumbling to himself in Cantonese. I often could not make out what he said, but he was my neighbour. He lived on the ground floor in a small staircase cubicle a few doors away. Every morning he would leave his "home office" taking care to latch and lock up the place first. No one was quite sure how he got that way. Some said he lost his business in a fire; others said his family left him. Going home from my neighbour's after dark was sometimes problematic; we often had to tiptoe around his body as he usually slept on a mat on the upper staircase landing. In the dim light, we took care not to disturb him. To us, he was a mad man. What if he woke up, grabbed a chopper and hacked us to pieces? Initially, we were on tenterhooks. But as time passed, we gradually learned that he was quite harmless.

An uncle of mine might be clean shaven, hair neat and well combed but he was also quite mad. So it came as no surprise that he later joined the intelligence services of the the local army (i.e. the SAF). Most certified nut jobs ended up there, according to NS lore.

My dear uncle had this piercing look that could be interpreted in two ways: 1) He was going to beat you into a pulp unless you confessed; 2) He was going to beat you up no matter what. Either way, it's best not to make eye contact with him for more than a microsecond. My other uncles told me he was brilliant in chess. I get it, I'd probably run away too before my king got taken by him!

The problem was, he's the only uncle who liked to play with us kids. The rest were older and into 60's stuff. It was quite unnerving at first playing with this uncle and we would hide or give some excuse. Some of us boys resorted to playing tea with our sisters. Yes, we got that desperate!

The turnaround came one Chinese New Year. We were playing fireworks in the back lane of our home when he came and joined us. He had brought along cans, sticks and a rather big bag. With these, he taught us how to blow stuff sky high. He also taught us how to improvise firecracker poppers with stone and paper and how to make an even bigger firecracker with the smaller ones. Of course, in that big bag out poured some of the most gobsmacking firecrackers ever seen - stuff that we kids all wanted to buy but had not the money. Stuff that whirled, rocketed and yes, even screamed!

The ones that whirled spun on the ground with tails of flint-fire. Those that rocketed either had a long stick that you could hold or plant into the ground. The other rocket kind you simply aimed and pulled on a string behind. Either one would scream like a banshee towards its intended target (to which you would point at). During firecracker time, all the boys and girls carried with them a joss stick each. You took care to light the firecracker properly and you also took care also not to poke each other's eye out with that glowing point. (This was especially important when clambering up and down those tight spiral staircases at the back of our houses.)

That year, our firecracking shenanigans ended up in a firefight between homes. Imagine the setup: Three back lanes of houses facing each other with two levels of staircases and landings (forming a 'T'). Include the homes right across the lorong and you have at least four battling sides! The whole firefight became something of a Shock & Awe campaign in Iraq. Streaks of light flew back and forth as we traded fire with one another with those handheld rockets. Of course, the combatants across the road were lower and at a disadvantage. They also had to fire from behind their narrow window grills. We on the other hand were on superior ground at the back landing of our apartment. We just had only to stoop below the staircase landing parapet to avoid being hit. However, since our parapet was balustraded in places leaving gaps, we had to use our mom's kwali (frying wok) as a make-shift shield.

That was a delirious time and even the adults joined in. Midway through the firefight, a crash of glass was heard. Someone's ba gua above the window had been smashed! A ba gua was something houses put up to ward off evil, and so it was a taboo thing to touch, let alone damage! More retaliatory rockets flew, as did colorful profanities in Hokkien. We kept low and quiet hoping one of the other sides would take the rap.

In the morning, people awoke to assess the damage. The back lanes were typically littered all over with red smithereens of firecrackers having exploded with the smell of gunpowder still acrid and pungent in the air. Incredibly, no one was hurt in our little CNY Shock & Awe campaign. Since it was Chinese New Year, all hostilities the night before were forgotten, even if a ba gua was broken!

I have never forgotten that fantastic night of how we huddled under a kwali with crazy rockets exploding all around us. Or how this uncle directed the firefight. For a moment, I glimpsed his mad, playful genius. In the following years, I became more interested in his comings and goings as he slowly became a kind of hero. The family today remains amused by his eccentric choice of girlfriends over the years. However, even as he got more social, he never once told us what he did in the Army. I can imagine him saying "If I tell you, I would have to kill you" - same as how James Bond would react. That glint in his eye hasn't totally gone away. Hmm, it is better not to chance it!

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