Ah Gong

I had supper with my mother tonight, after attending the annual memorial service for my wife Leng Leng's grandparents at their old family home in Katong. It must have been the remembrance of our dearly departed that started my mother talking about her dad.

Ah Gong (maternal grandfather) came from Guangdong, China, on his own to Singapore in the 1920s, and after some time sent for his family. The plan was to make enough money in Nanyang (the south seas) to return for a good life in China. All that went up in smoke with the outbreak of the Second World War, first in China then spreading to Singapore.

Life was hard. Ah Gong was well educated but only in the Chinese language which was hardly in demand in the British colony. Facing structural unemployment he found himself working as a coolie at the docks unloading cargo. Mum said he was tall and lean, although I always imagined him to rather short, like me. His manual labour continued for a company renting out tables and chairs. It was hard work with little pay and two meagre meals. When he lost his job he was too ashamed to tell his family until grandma found him wandering the streets when he should have been at work. He eventually found a job cooking for a pugilistic (kung-fu) school. I'm not sure if it was because of ill health, but he eventually settled for lighter work, helping people to write letters home to China.

I don't really know Ah Gong, but I know he tried his best. Life doesn't always work out the way we plan it, but there is always a way out if we don't give up. He passed away the year my mum was married in 1961 at the age of 71. I was born 3 years later.

This litany of Ah Gong's occupations was triggered by Mum explaining why she had to work to support the family since she was fifteen years old. When kids of that age today are complaining about school work, gossiping about boyfriends and comparing the latest in handphone ring-tones, my mother was sewing two dozen purses a day at a sweat shop for $2.50. Added to the $3 a day that my grandmother earned at the rubber factory, that became the daily livelihood for the family of five.

I'm beginning to catch a glimpse of how my mother developed her remarkable resilience. The need to survive, not only for herself but also for her family, built in her an inner strength and faith that would later see her through much tougher challenges in life.

I salute my ancestors who overcame unbelievable odds to survive and pass on their faith and values to the next generation. Maybe that's what it's all about. An inheritance is nice, but a legacy of character, faith and courage: priceless.