by Yap Swi Neo
Head Gardener Li was tasked to teach me everything about orchid cultivation. ‘Silent One, Chai Orchid farm most big in Pahang, second big in whole Malaysia.’ I knew that. He continued, ‘Most big one Sarawak. Sometimes Ye-Ye go buy orchids. You got go? You learn good, you become towkay of farm, girl boss,’ he laughingly insinuated. What did I learn? The names of the orchids, the potting media, the amount of water needed, when to water, the fertilizers used, recognising a mature stalk ready for picking, storing and packing.
We ate our lunches and early dinners under the shade of my favourite trumpet tree. It was spectacular during the dry spell when pink and white blossoms covered the entire tree. It then scattered its winged seeds. Similarly, I had blossomed, had trumpeted my fertile femininity, and had received the winged seeds, ready to germinate again.
Mealtime talk was mundane most times. At other times, the gossip was about Ye-Ye and his household. Head Gardener Li was the information disseminator, everyone else listened. ‘Silent One, you can talk, talk something. You long time you live in big house you know many thing. I tell you little bit about Ye-Ye everyday, so you understand Ye-Ye and Nai-Nai.’ I understood the family. When Ye-Ye was not at the farm, they talked about the Chai household, Nai-Nai, their wealth. I suspected they wanted to trap me. No, they couldn’t. I was liberated in my silence. No questions to answer, no explanations expected, no lies required. My silence was my weapon.
‘Silent One, you like stay here? Like work here?’ I nodded, though I was on the verge of responding. I smiled. Smiles never hurt anyone.
‘Silent One, you young girl. This man work. Girls not strong, cannot work so hard.’ I couldn’t take the labour? I laboured eight hours! Alone. In Penang. The fruit of my labour was worth the pain. Where is my fruit? My fruit was stolen from me when he was six months old, when I was told I had to strengthen myself with herbs at another temple and my fruit would be taken care of by a nursemaid. Everyone there was ‘Silent One’ like me. I only had story books delivered to me, regularly, anonymously. It was from Ye-Ye. And I had Oxford. I cringed and surprised myself when I shed tears that night, the first time I cried since I came home to the farm alone. My anguished screams were silent.
‘Ye-Ye, he good man. He take good care of us. When we sick, he ask driver take us go see doctor, and he pay doctor, we no need work one week, still get money. We get big angpau,[2] sometimes $500 when business good. Chinese New Year, always get big angpau. Also we go famous restaurant eat big dinner. Best yu-sheng[3] in whole world. Good fortune yu-sheng with good fish and abalone. He order many plates. Also got pork, chicken, and many food. Also can drink beer. We all like. We eat plenty.’
‘Silent One, you afraid stay garden house, one person night time? So quiet no one disturb you.’
Another gardener cut in, ‘If you afraid I sleep with you.’ Everyone laughed, a sniggering, knowing kind of laugh, with slapping of backs and thighs and tables, and kicking of legs.
In the silence of the night I wanted to be disturbed. Ye-Ye was never quiet.
Gardener Li continued, ‘About four years ago Nai-Nai go round world holiday long time. Got money, no children, can go holiday many months. And she come back with one baby boy. Some say she take baby from China. Some say Ye-Ye cannot have baby, so Nai-Nai go China and … you know, got baby and Ye-Ye tell lawyer want to make baby his son. Some say baby Ye-Ye’s real baby. His name Chai Hong Seng. Now baby over three years old already. Silent One, this true or not?’
I cherished the joy of Seng suckling on my breasts for six months in Penang. Then Nai-Nai stole him. I will have him back! He’s mine!
‘True or not ah, Nai-Nai no trust you stay in big house anymore? When you small girl, you stay there. Now you cannot even stand outside house. She say you dirty, you have nothing, you steal her money and many things. Then you run away because you steal her gold chain. She say she very kind not report you to police.’
I nodded and smiled. If only they knew! I and mine were the stolen ones. I was glad I was the Silent One. They cajoled me into telling my story. My silence was power.
‘Silent One, you got see your baby? Oh, oh sorry, sorry, sorry. You got see Ye-Ye Chai son? He very cute one, eyes small, like yours, hair also very curly. Same your hair also very curly.’
‘Ye-Ye got tell you about baby?’ Did he need to?
How I longed to see my son. One afternoon Mother brought us our lunch. She beckoned me over to the car. There he was, in the baby chair, my son. Ya, eyes small like mine, hair curly, like mine. Son, you are well taken care of. I love you very much. I love you from a distance. We’ll be together soon. Promise. Mother and I did not speak. She held my hand for a moment. I wished she had hugged me, or at least smiled. Perhaps she also despised me.
Gardener Li was concerned about my condition. ‘Silent One, you vomiting many times every day. Morning you vomiting plenty times. Tell Ye-Ye take you go hospital see doctor. But you now also more fatter.’ He patted me, condescendingly. He knew. All knew. The other gardeners in turn encouraged me to tell Ye-Ye I was not well. Their concerns for my welfare said what they could not say.
‘Silent One, you sick, your face also like white. But you also more and more fat every month. Something growing inside your stomach. Go see doctor, tell Ye-Ye take you go see doctor.’
‘Silent One, you cannot walk properly. Please, please tell Ye-Ye you very sick. Something in your stomach so big. You afraid tell him. He good man. He can see your stomach big, you sick. You cannot walk properly. Tomorrow I go tell him you sick.’ Head Gardener Li comforted me. Comfort or snigger or contempt, I didn’t care anymore. I have another son.
What would I tell them? How could I tell them? Ye-Ye knew. I was the fresh white bloom with pink lips and he had blown into it.
That night, I took one last look at my orchids, my trumpet tree, my little garden house. We walked out. I was bent over holding my belly tight, wet between the legs. Ye-Ye held me tight.
Six months later Li informed the gardeners the latest Chai household news. Silent One had returned to Ye-Ye’s house. She was sick and Nai-Nai had sent her away to Penang to rest. ‘Ye-Ye go lawyer office sign paper adopt another baby boy. His name Chai Hong Thian. The first boy name Chai Hong Seng. They are brothers. Real brothers.
‘Ye-Ye also say Silent One stay in house can take care of Seng and Thian. She young and healthy and very motherly. She love them very much. She now second Nai-Nai. Old Nai-Nai boh pian, no choice, she no give Ye-Ye son or daughter. Now she afraid Silent One.’
All mothers love their children, don’t they? I have metamorphosed beautifully from an unwanted, unnamed chabor servant girl to Silent One to Orchid Chai to Second Nai-Nai. Soon to complete the metamorphosis into a Monarch Butterfly.
* * *
These domestic servants, known as majie, wore a distinctive uniform of a samfoo with white blouses and black pants. They swore their loyalty to their employers and remained unmarried. ↵
Red packet, a gift containing money. ↵
A Chinese New Year dish of raw fish and shredded vegetables eaten in Singapore and Malaysia and which symbolizes good fortune. ↵
That Saturday Night Dance
This story is based on a true incident – four lifelong friends and the tragedy that happened one Saturday night long ago.
Pansy reminds us to dress up and bring out the bling. She has invited us to an al fresco dinner by the sea at the newly renovated Happy Land Hotel where Ocean View Hotel once stood.
6.30 SHARP! HONEST! her message reads.
At 6.30 we are there, though we don’t expect her to be. She is never on time.
‘Does anyone really expect Pansy to be here to welcome her guests?’ Wan mutters.
‘No, she hasn’t been on time for even one of our monthly lunches since she returned home,’ I say. ‘And still the same pride; only she can pick up the tab.’
‘Mary, we have excellent lunches, free of charge! For three years almost!’ Kim responds, smiling.
�
�6.30 sharp? Oops, really? 8.10 already? I don’t have a watch,’ Kim mimics Pansy. ‘We bought her a SEIKO watch for her 21st birthday. And what did she say? “Thank you, girls. My philosophy is to never wear a watch. A watch doesn’t compliment being dressed up, unless of course it’s a Cartier.”’
‘Pansy, you don’t wear a watch as an excuse to be late,’ I had once said, ‘and because you are super rich!’ I had been envious of her wealth. I hated her disdain for ‘those poor things’ – that is, us. Wan and Kim had looked at me in surprise. I surprised myself. Pansy did not take offence, instead she turned the tables on us, gave us nicknames and still we did not protest. I had always been the quiet one, ‘half sentence girl’ or ‘half-sentence Mary’, then there was ‘giggly Wan’ and ‘long-discourse Kim’.
‘What about you, Pansy?’ Wan had enquired.
‘Oh, I’m just me, “bling, bling, the real thing, Pansy”.’ She didn’t batter an eyelid. ‘My philosophy is a late entrance creates a pause in the gathering; everyone looks at you. When you are dressed, bling bling and all, you are the focus of attention. It’s a great feeling.’
Tonight, Pansy has reserved a table near the water’s edge, and we are seated under an attap canopy in comfortable cushioned rattan chairs waiting for her to arrive. The waiter serves us a complimentary fruit punch. We look at one another and laugh.
Kim bursts into a melodious mantra, ‘Same, same good old days. The same tradition, a free Coke or 7Up first drink, and prices doubled after ten! Our dates, in turns, ordered three rounds of Coke and 7Up for each of us before ten! Sometimes it was orange or lemon juice. Let’s drink up then, we drink the real thing!’
‘We lost Pansy for forty years. Since she came home, she’s not been the showy Pansy we grew up with,’ Kim hisses.
‘She’s more sober,’ Wan replies. ‘I wonder why she chose this place?’
‘Gossip has it that she has never fully recovered after that …’
‘None of us have, I think. Have you, Mary?’
I whisper, ‘Any of you been here since, since …’ Silly girl. Of course we haven’t.
‘What is still familiar to you?’ asks Wan. ‘Only the sea, the moon and the stars. This dining area was the dance floor. Not quite the same old tiled dance floor, ya? Remember every hour or so when the band took a fifteen-minute break, a hotel staff “talcum powdered” the floor. We never knew the reason for it. This polished deck floor is much better-quality wood. It’s also larger and the music croons invisibly.’ Wan is chirpy.
In silence we scan the open-air dance floor where the live band played nighty in the gazebo. We danced there every Saturday night when we were young, newly employed professionals. Pansy wanted us there. We called it The Summer Place, after Sandra Dee’s hit movie of the same name. Everyone wanted to be Sandra Dee, not because of Sandra Dee but because she got the most handsome boy. We wanted that boy. Another time we wanted to be Maria and marry the Captain with seven children; the list of films continued.
‘The lady in the floral dress, you think the gazebo …’ I ask no one in particular. ‘Pansy’s favourite table … the angsana tree, front row. The tree’s gone, the gazebo’s gone, the band’s gone. Nothing of what I remember is left.’
‘Pansy always had her way. What she suggested, we did, rather, we obeyed.’
‘Yes, Wan. Why did we?’ I feel bitterness rising.
‘Because we were poor. And because your father was the accounts clerk in her father’s company … clerk, ok, not an accountant. And our mother was the chef in her mansion. That’s why!’ Wan snaps back.
Kim rationalizes, ‘We were well looked after, right up to uni. Her dad even gave us an allowance. Look on the positive side.’ Kim and Wan are inseparable twins. ‘We are grateful for that. Her dad was a great, compassionate man. With Pansy, the spoilt brat, as the only daughter. And our parents told us to be nice to Pansy, always. We were the same age, in the same class.’
‘Same brains, without tuition, without anything.’ Again I feel resentment.
We remember the new clothes we wore were Pansy’s old clothes. One Chinese New Year I had to wear the new dress she hated.
‘I hated that yellow dress with red polka dots, I never wore it again,’ I say.
The twins laugh. ‘At least you got a new dress.’
Wan recalls, ‘Pansy once said to Tony, “Tony, that hair clip, earrings and pendant I gave Wan. Looks good on Wan, right? Wan in want.” And she giggled. Tony did look uncomfortable but said nothing. Tony, Tony, what really happened?’
‘She made us feel inferior, it gave her power over us! Why do we still hang out with her?’
‘Our parents were glad they did not have to buy clothes, shoes, and other girlie things for us.’ Kim rationalises. ‘And we have grown accustomed to her face. And her father’s generosity towards our parents and us.’
‘I guess we were friends from school to university, when we were young professionals and now in our senior years,’ Wan continues.
‘But why do we still defer to her?’ says Kim. ‘I’ve asked myself several times. I have no answer.’
‘I guess we share the guilt. Many times I see her as “poor thing”. How ironic, when she had referred to us poor things.’
‘And this was where we danced every Saturday evening. With our boyfriends. And only Tony paid all the bills, because Pansy insisted.’
‘We had boyfriends. Where are they now? Not one of the four around.’
‘Remember the bandmaster?’ I say. ‘He always started the evening with “Welcome friends. This evening we play as always your favourite dance music. It will be an evening you will never forget.” Then straight away his signature song “Begin the Beguine”.’
I hum then Wan and Kim hum along. We remember those opening lines to start the dance, how could we not? Pansy and Tony, the perfect pair, the same physique, the same social status, the same interests and the same boldness. They laughed without restraint, embraced without embarrassment, danced only with each other and raced their cars without a care. We were terrified to ride with them. But only Pansy and Tony had cars.
‘Yes, Mary, it was always the same. “Begin the Beguine”, a beautiful rhumba. We were on our feet. And with “Goodnight Irene” when the evening was over, till next Saturday evening.’
‘“Goodnight Irene” our Cinderella hour. But tea dances began with “Tea for Two” cha-cha-cha, more lively music, more rock and roll, jive, limbo, twist,’ Kim reminisces.
‘That’s because it was bright sunlight! No arms locking please.’ We laugh at Wan, her hands embracing herself.
Those were the days. We often wondered why the bandmaster addressed us ‘friends’ instead of ‘ladies and gentlemen’. We concluded that he was aware that many of us were not quite ladies and gentlemen, but giggly young people, perhaps a little foolish too.
‘Kim, your favourite song was “My Little Corner of the World”. You were secretly in love with the bandmaster! You wanted a little corner with him, didn’t you? And your date was Teck!’ Wan winks mischievously.
‘Alfonso was his name. He was Portuguese and had a gold front tooth. I wonder where he is now?’ Kim sighs. We wonder too. Probably deceased. ‘Pansy had to have the seat facing the sea. Where is she anyway? Same, same Pansy.’
‘Oops, sorry, no watch,’ I snigger.
‘Hi, hi!’ Pansy waves from a distance. There she is, in a little red buttoned-down dress, shoulder-duster jade and diamond earrings, matching pendant and a sheer Hermes scarf, carelessly tied round her waist instead of her neck, as she always does. Our ‘bling bling’? Large pieces of paste masquerading as ten-carat gems.
‘Am I late?’ That is an understatement. ‘Em, I said 7.30, right? So ten minutes late is not late, right?’
‘No, Pansy, see your message. 6.30 SHARP! HONEST! All in caps,’ I snap. ‘And we believed you.’ At seventy plus years old I do not have to be deferential to her.
She pretends not to have heard. ‘Oh, Mary, Wan, Kim it’s s
o nice to get together here. It’s been quite a while since we met here. Kiss, kiss, kiss …’ she blows to each of us. ‘Wow, Mary, such large bling bling.’
‘Can’t afford small bling bling, so got large ones!’ I feel incensed.
Pansy hums then softly sings, ‘Those were the days my friends, We thought they’d never end. We’d sing and dance forever and a day, We’d live the life we choose, We’d fight and never lose, For we were young and sure to have our way.’ Her earrings sway with her.
‘Now, we are no longer young.’
‘Wan, stop that. It’s all in the mind, your mind. We’re here to have a good time. To reminisce about those days? No, thank you. Now, let’s drink! No 7Up, no orange juice.’ Pansy has pre-ordered pre-dinner drinks. Dom Pérignon, no less. ‘I’m starved. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Now who said that? Ahh, who cares?’
‘I think it’s from some bible passage. Not sure which.’
‘Mary, you were always a holy holy girl. Always praying. You should have been a nun. But I guess you also wanted sex!’ It is hurtful. And ironic too.
Kim comes out fierce, ‘Pansy, stop it! We wanted sex, that’s why we got ma …’
Wan, giggling Wan, taps the table, stands, wolf-whistles and points her hands to her mouth gestured to the waiter for the menu.
Pansy is chirpy and humming bits of melody. Her emerald shadowed eyes rotate like an owl’s, seeking a prized picking. It appears that by talking and humming continuously she might eventually let loose something within her, not yet sure when it will be appropriate.
‘Pansy, remember your angsana tree? You always had to have the seat facing the sea.’
‘Yes, I did, Kim. The moonlit sky, the silent, seductive call of the sea, the smell of the salt, the sands kissing my feet, so romantic. Secretly I wanted to throw off my clothes and swim forever, with Tony of course. Throw caution to the wind, like the girls and the limbo rock.’
