February 26, 2015

Nang Chong Tales : A Man with a Handsaw

My maternal grandfather,Lau Kah Chui, was not particularly skilful with his hands but he was known to be able to do some tailoring, and build simple structures with the help of a handsaw. His greatest feat was his strength to carry heavy stuff during his youth. But that actually caused his illness towards the last decade of his life. His main occupation was however rubber tapping.

Interestingly, he made friends with those who had good skills. Like the friend he had for life, Hii Tien Ju, who son, Hii Wen Hui, eventually became his son-in-law, about 10 years after he passed away.

My grandfather and Mr. Hii Tien Ju together built the big house at Ah Nang Chong with the simplest of tools and the Tiing Nang Primary school, on the land donated by my grandfather.

The hand saw united the two of them together. Mr. Hii was a sort of barefoot architect and builder and grand dad was a rubber tapper. When they built the house together, grand dad would use his handsaw to cut all the necessary lengths of planks. When the village decided to build the primary school, my grandfather also was part of the cooperative team.

In fact for years, many housebuilders would carry a big Foochow basket, containing simple tools, like the plane, ruler, pencil, sandpaper. And the handsaw would stick out of the basket like a symbol of a man who was going to help people build homes. In the basket would be a bottle of water and perhaps just a bao or two. In those days many of the hardworking people did not have packed food or even Cheng Ark (tiffin carriers) or plastic containers.

On the other hand, if  they were contracted out, they would live in coolie houses or Mangsang and share cooked food with the rest of the contract workers.

And we have to remember that many of these carpenters actually became weakened because they carried too much stuff, worked too hard without good food and nutrition.

February 25, 2015

Hua Hung Ice Factory : Surverying of Land

When we were living in Pulau Kerto at the Hua Hong Ice Factory we used to meet Lands and Survey Department Boat going around to do surveying work.

Very often the Iban boatman would come up to the factory to buy ice blocks. We would not know if he wanted to bring the ice to their camp to cool their beers or to help keep their animal meat fresh. There were no cooler boxes then.

Most of the surveyors would have their own guns, so when these L and S boat passed by, we thought they looked like soldiers doing their rounds, except that the surveyors did not wear any uniform.

(This photo is from the late Mr.Lim Thian Beng whom I befriended last year. He showed me many photos of his land and survey work in the 50's in Miri areas. This is a very significant photo becuse it shows the surveyors having guns in their hands)

According to the Superintendent of L and S Dept at that time, the surveyors were given licences to hold guns and own guns , not only for protection but for food supplies.

Many of the surveyors after remaining in their camps for a week or more,would come home with several biscuit tins of dried meat or salai babi.

Sometimes the meat was salted and deep fried. Sometimes they would drop by the Ice Factory again and perhaps sell some of the meat to the employees who would really enjoy the fresh sun dried meat

My father and his relatives, the Wong brothers all had guns (hung chiing) and they often went out in the evenings to have a spot of fun shooting birds. He would also have the time to swap stories with the surveyors who came by.

Gone are the days when people who come by boat right to your door step carrying guns and having a few dead animals in their boats.

Pirates of Ng.Gaat

What was it like in the 1965 period of Confrontation. We were all in Form Four, My father had just passed away suddenly. Life was hard for most people and the streets were full of soldiers in uniforms. Some were from Malaysia, some from overseas. The air was often disturbed by helicopters flying areound.

All was not well on the ground and in the air.

Even though most poeple said that life had to go on as normal, it was not the case for MOST people. War is not an easy situation .

The voice on the short-wave intercom was that of

Lieut. Tim Donkin, 25-year-old Royal Marine
commander of the Royal Navy's helicopter
detachment at Nanga Gaat, which ferries the
Paras to their lonely outposts along 400 miles of
Sarawak's remotest and most primitive jungle
border with Indonesia.
I was sitting strapped in the deck of Lieut. Jimmy
James's helicopter. The two pilots were ferrying
Para patrols to an area sparsely populated by the
nomadic Punans, who still hunt with blowpipes
and poisoned arrows.
Down below, in a tiny clearing amid the dense tall
trees, I could see an orange parachute laid out as
a signal. I saw a man in jungle green shoot a
smoke signal into the sky. I saw another run
forward to gather up the parachute. We were
hovering, sinking on to the pad. I unhitched my
harness. Darby Allen, the young ginger-haired
aircrewman from Leeds, gave me a thumbs-up
And, there I was, standing 500 yards from the
border, facing four of the most disconcerted
young Paras you ever saw.
When one found his voice he said; " Are you the
lot? Aren't we getting any blokes and grub today?
I said I sincerely hoped so. I had a vested interest
in the arrival of the second helicopter.
It came within minutes. Quickly they off-loaded
their four blokes, their grub for a fortnight, their
bulging rucksacks and self-loading rifles and
ammo, watched me climb back in and waved me
a cheery farewell.
The newcomers would stay on border patrol here
for six weeks. The other four, with four weeks of
patrol completed, would be picked. up in two
weeks. As I looked down on those eight young
faces I thought of what one of them, a lad from
Fife, had said the night before at Nanga Gaat:
“Do you know what's the loneliest sound on
earth? He had asked me. " It’s the sound of a
chopper moving away from you after a drop."
I now had a glimmering of. how he felt. For six
weeks his job would be to search the Sarawak
jungle borders for signs of the enemy, to track,
him, assess his strength, hide from him and live
to report his whereabouts. And this in a terrain
where an enemy can hide a yard from you and
you never know. .
He would sleep for 42 nights in a hammock slung
between two jungle trees, live on field rations of
rice, tea and tinned meat, cook with smokeless
fuel, sprinkle his clothes and hammock with
Insect repellent. yet get scarred all over with
bites. He would eat monkeys, mouse deer and
wild pig, slaughtered for him silently by Punan
blowpipe and poison dart. He would tread where
no white man had ever trod before.
And all the time he would five with the sure
knowledge that, if captured, he would be killed,
slowly and cruelly The Indonesians disembowel
and decapitate their prisoners.
These men, all volunteers, all in their late teens
and: early twenties drop in with instructions to
identify themselves as closely as possible with
any local natives they meet, share their way of life
and enlist their aid as trackers. Some have
interpreted this so literally they have horrified
their C0.s by emerging from the jungle with their
hair shaven and fringed native fashion, tribal
tattoo marks. on their throats, wearing Punan
loincloths instead of Jungle greens and carrying
blowpipes and poison darts, instead of rifles and
ammo belts. That they are doing a superb job in
public relations was demonstrated on the next
pad we visited. To this pad had come 40 Punans
—the shyest and most primitive people in
Sarawak. They had come to bid farewell and
bring gifts to the four British lads who had lived
among them for six weeks—the first white men
they had ever seen. To Tim Ashton (23) from
Stockton-on-Tees, they gave a parang, a
blowpipe and darts and some tobacco wrapped to
palm leaf.
He told me they had shot much game for him
with their blowpipes. " Stewed monkey tastes just
like mutton," he said. " It's a smashing change
from baked beans.”

He said the Punan hunters became very
distressed when they missed a pot shot with a
blowpipe. " They blame their ghosts. They're very
superstitious. My tracker had his own personal
ghost and used to hold long whispered
conversations with him at night to allay his fears.
His personal ghost was represented by a stick
and some leaves and he carried them about with
After completing our Para
dropping and collecting mission,
we came to the very roof of
Sarawak, to a 5,000ft. mountain on
the pinnacle of which was perched
a little plastic-roofed bamboo
It contained two young surveyors
of the Royal Engineers, who had
been winched down on to it from a
helicopter to take readings for the
first accurate map of Sarawak.
We dropped them their rations for
the next two weeks and mail from
The mountain was Bukit Dema 5212 ft. The
young surveyors were Michael Pooley & Brian
All this happened on the last day of a memorable
weekend I spent with the most unlikely
detachment of the Queen's Navy—the so-called
“Pirates of Nanga Gaat."
Their correct title is 845 Naval Air Squadron; their
ship is the commando carrier H.M.S. Bulwark.
Their base is 150 miles up river, at a junction
where the Gaat joins the Rajang. The junction is
of the Batang Baleh & Sungai Gaat
When the emergency began they offered to take.
sole responsibility for running a chopper service
from Nanga Gaat to move troops and supplies
over an area of impenetrable Jungle the size of
Wales, They expected to be relieved by the R.A.F.
after a few weeks and return. to fleet duties.

(Copied from  Pamata Kayau Menua, Facebook)

February 19, 2015

Sibu Tales : Sweet Biscuits

Sibu in the olden days had a few famous Foochow confectionery shops, a few along Market Road, one in Blacksmith Road and one in Channel Road.

These confectionary shops all made Gong Bian, besides their sweet biscuits, Leh Bian and guong tong.

Most would be full of floured tabled tops, and the biscuit makers wearing only singlets and their blue shorts.

Outside on the five foot way, there would be a big kuali to deep fry Yu Char Kui..and passersby would buy them, hot from the kuali.

As there were several of these early morning breakfast item eateries, most people would not be disappointed. Queuing was often out of question, it would not be first come first serve...You really need to catch the eye of the maker. Also, some men who came in with their big cars would shout, "I am in a hurry, give me my you char kuih first!!"

That used to annoy me a lot because I always felt that the woman with a loud and confident voice would get her cookies.

My Goo Boh, a refined lady with a very gentle nature and a soft voice would have to stand longer to get her goodies.

I would suggest that the you char kui maker should give customers and especially senior citizens a number like in clinics. if business is so brisk. The assistant could call up the number and then  wrap up the number of YCK  for the customers. That should be a better system. Don't you think so?

I like first come first served.

February 18, 2015

Nang Chong Stories : Soy Braised Fried Fish

Very often my Third  uncle who was good at throwing the cast net would come home in the evenings, after just a few hours, with a good catch. Some times it would be a bucketful of river prawns and smaller fish.

If it was a fish, and the timing was just right for dinner. Third Aunt would deep fry the fish if it was suitable.

Any uneaten part of the fish would be kept for the next day. She would pour some soy sauce over the fish and keep it in the food safe.

If it was a rubber tapping day, ie the weather was fine, she would make a caramelized sauce of soy sauce and sugar and heat up the fish again. The slow cooking of the fish in the big kuali in the morning would send whiffs of aroma upstairs where some lazy bums might still have been asleep. That would wake them up, if the crowing by the few cockerels we had had not awaken them up at first light.

Hot rice would be scooped into the Cheng Ark (tiffin carrier), some soup would be also ladled out into another one, and a piece of the fish and sauce would be placed at the top layer. And off the rubber tapping cousins would go on their bicycles in the breaking first lights.

This was the kind of morning that I would remember fondly.

February 16, 2015

Sibu tales : Du Eng or Belly Bands

Before my birth, my maternal grandmother came with a basket of old baby clothes collected from aunts and other relatives to give to my mum.

This is a normal Foochow frugal practice. New babies did not have to have new clothes. Old clothes were more comfortable to wear and then, babies quickly outgrow their clothings.

Ngie Mah was very frugal and nothing was ever wasted by her. According to my mother, she brought two patchwork blankets, a few belly bands from my aunts who just had babies too, a few goon yang (or Chinese red nappies), and lots of baby pajamas.

Grandma said something very important for everyone to learn. " Torn cloth to wrap a real pearl". I always feel good thinking of that.

My mother said she made just a few pajamas and long pants for me. She also sewed a lot of square pieces to act as my nappies.

Love of a mother for her daughter.

Chinese Series. The Chinese Surname BLUE

There are not many people with the surname Blue or Lan. The sociologists, writers and scholars continue to be interested in their origins and progress over the years. They are distinctly a minority She group of people and they have rich cultural heritage although they have assimilated very well into the Han Chinese culture.

During the Tang Dynasty, Fujian, Guangdong  and Jiangxi provinces became residencies of the She minority people. The surname of Blue or Lan came during the late Zhao period and appeared in the book of genealogy.

Could Lan Jipu be the first Lan clan ancestor?

Fuzhou city became the city with the largest number of Lan Clan . And many writers and scholars became interested in writing and studying about the She minority group and the Lan Clan.

Accoring to one genealogy book of the Lan Clan,some records were already written about them in 1157 during the Song Dynasty.

There is a Lan family living in Kuching. Family members are very artistic and one of them is a fashion designer. I am wondering if they are connected to this She minority group of Fujian Province of China.

I just have to share these beautiful photos from Google.

(Photos from Google)

February 15, 2015

Pussy Willow : Chinese New Year Flowers

the Pussy Willow grows well in Spring in China and is a favourite blossom for the Chinese who like it because each branch of the plant has many blosooms The sign of growth is auspicious for the Chinese who love plants which symbolizes prosperity.

The branches are bought in the wet market. But nowadays the plant can even be bought already potted and ready to bloom in south East Asia!!

In the Chinese homes, the branches are decorated with gold and red ornaments. Red ribbons are often tied on the branches to signify happiness.

Pussy Willows truly makes CNY atmosphere very different . It is like bringing Spring into our homes.

Wishing all of you a Blessed Lunar New Year!!

February 13, 2015

Nang Chong Tales : Soy Sauce Pork

The slaughtering of a pig was a village event during my childhood when there was no refrigeration.

Neighbours would quickly come and buy up the meat, without my uncle doing any promotion. Every one in those days would look forward to home slaughtering of pigs.

My two aunts would be only too happy to be able to slaughter their home raised pigs and sell pork, by turn. The two had pigs throughout the year and had them slaughtered at different times.

My third uncle would always keep some meet for the family. Belly pork, one pork leg, the heart, the liver and the stomach. That would mean a lot to my grandmother who was supported by him.

Thus selling pork was an extra income for my aunts. And the family got to eat some choice pork for a week. Grandma would salt the belly pork in a jar with lots of coarse salt, which would be taken out for meals from time to time.

But the best dish was still the soy sauce pork. The sauce would last for as long as week, as the enamel pot would always be left heated in the big kuali. That would be good condiment for a week, if we ate sparingly. We were trained not to eat too much. And we were trained always to leave some for others who were late for dinner in the evening.

And then if someone went to Sibu, grandma would asked him or her to buy some Gong Bian. She would heat up the meat sauce and we would dip the gong bian in the sauce. Another wonderful breakfast.

"Sang Pui" Eat sparingly.

February 12, 2015

Sibu Tales : My Birth Story

Most of us,Foochows of Sibu, in the early 1950's were born at home even though we already had a splendid modern hospital, the Lau King Howe Hospital.

The local Foochow midwives were mainly barefoot midwives or semi trained midwives. They could be called up any time to deliver babies for a simple token sum of money. It would not make any new parents poorer by calling them. Interestingly, according to my mother, some of the midwives were just too happy to help with a birth. A bowl of longevity noodles could be a very fair payment!!

Besides, as if by Providence, there were so many women who were able to use their God given skills to help their fellow women deliver, sometimes. In some cases, just by sheer coincidence that they were around at the right time and right place. And indeed in most circumstances the baby and mother were fine. Only a few Foochow mothers in our know history died in childbirth, one of whom was Grandmother Wong, of my Tiong family.

I was delivered by a local semi trained midwife or "boh neh", even though my father was a university graduate. He adhered my shy mother's request to have a very able aunt deliver me. When the time came, early in the early morning before the cock crowed, my father took the speed boat across the river Rajang and got hold of boh neh. I was his first born and probably that was a very daunting task for a man of 40.

The confinement lady, 6th Aunty to me and 6th Sister to my mother was already by my mother's bed side. She had boiled a few kettles of hot water and they were waiting. She had not had a wink of sleep throughout the night.

Finally  about five thirty in the morning, my father came, nonchalantly,as always, with the midwife. She went to work swiftly and had me delivered me at six a.m. I was quite a sporting baby indeed.

Sixth Aunt had prepared the paper towels (available in Tai Lung, Sibu), bath towels, scissors, hot water, for the birth, and strings for my umbilical cord, Mum did not haemorrhage as she was healthy and athletic from all her rubber tapping and rice planting and of course, carrying of water with her bian dan. She told me that she was glad that she had a very hardworking life, many years later.

No fire crackers were lighted at my birth because I was a female child. But that did not deter me at all or stop me from feeling good. I was a light hearted child, very naughty according to my baby sitter Yew Ping and I had the tendency to get into scrapes and ask too many questions.

According to my birth time, which gives me my spiritual time  and 8 letters, Sii Ling Pek Ji,  I am a determined child with a lot of targets to shoot. The  midwife was pleased with my delivery and the healthy cries.

After the delivery, the best parts of the newly slaughtered chicken were placed in a huge bowl of soh mien for her. An angpow was given to her although my mother cannot remember how much it was. If I had been a boy child, she would have been given more, perhaps even a piece of material, and other gifts from the grandparents.

All this happened without the presence of my father, who discretely remained at a distance, while the ladies busied themselves with the arrival of a new born.

My paternal grand parents came from Sibu town to see me the next day. My maternal grandmother had came  from Ah Nang Chong to stay to help out for a month. All relatives coming to visit my parents would bring a chicken tied with red strings, and some soh mien and may be even eggs. This was the spirit of gotong royong in those days to help the new mother get through her 30 days confinement.

My maternal grandmother had already kept a brood of chickens for the confinement also, as a gift to her son in law. This was then the duty of a mother in law. She would have to make sure that her daughter would have at least one chicken a day for her confinement.

Every one who came to visit was given a bowl of chicken soup and noodles, and an egg. Sixth aunt's job was to ensure that every visitor was entertained properly. My maternal grandmother's role was to keep my mum company and to engage in some conversation with my dad, a new father, who might be rather lost without an elder's advice. Usually only women come to "send peace" or shung ang in Foochow. This kind of moral support was so important according to an uncle, who told me such things later. New fathers and new mothers needed counselling!!

My mother said that she had a good confinement because all the women folks treated her well, although she was a bit disapointed that I was a girl. And right from the beginning I had a baby sitter in  Sister Yew Ping who remains my good friend until today. Mum has always appreciated her help.

My maternal grandmother commented, "In China, she (meaning me,would have been thrown in the tampoi or river...so don't you say anything...." GRandma was always very forthright.

Besides my mother had a great helper in diligent and obedient, ever smiling Yew Ping, who was adopted by my grandfather for one of my uncles. She stayed to look after me until she got married.

I was saved by new thinking, by the new country (Sarawak)..And I was far far away from China where female children were unwanted.


What's your birth story like?

February 11, 2015

Nang Chong Tales : Rearing Turkeys

It was interesting how villagers were not so keen to adopt new ways of farming or new animals to rear besides ducks, and chickens.

My grandmother was not even keen to rear goats which were deemed very naughty and destructive. The British government had tried to encourage the Foochow farmers to rear goats and even cows but the folks were not keen because they were more enthusiastic about growing vegetables , rearing pigs and having a fish pond.

Protein was easily available from the river which was teeming with fish and prawns. Uncle Pang Sing was able to throw a net in the evenings and he could easily get a pailful of river prawns and fish. Using a fishing rod would be a weekend hobby and all my cousins would have a good weekend casting their lines. It was a popular "down river" kind of weekend hobby, if they did not want to catch a movie in Sibu.

Rod fishing by the riverside was actually quite a great and rewarding hobby as father and sons would bond and the end result would be a good fish dinner.

Back to turkey rearing. One year my uncle was given four turkey chicks to rear by another town uncle. Perhaps it was the Agricultural Department which was trying to give away chickens and smll turkeys to farmers. Uncle Pang Sing was only too happy and Grandmother was looking forward to having , at last a turkey for Christmas, something she had heard about American ways from the missionaries.

She thought that having a turkey for Christmas would be a great idea. When Christmas came and the turkeys were big enough for the slaughter, my aunt and my grandmother were a bit flustered because they did not know how to prepare the birds.

They never had an oven to roast and roasting and baking were not Foochow ways of cooking then.

So grandmother decided that the bird should be braised with Earn Chou.

The resultant turkey , all covered in red, was a disaster. The meat was too tough and not palatable.

Grandmother gave us one of the three turkeys to cook and my father sent the turkey to Sibu Recreation Club where the cook had it done the Cantonese way. The other one was not wanted by any one, so grandmother had it chopped into small pieces and cooked in soy sauce.

From what I heard my cousins took a long time to finish the turkey and in the days of no refrigeration, quite a bit was thrown out.

That was the end of our Foochow attemp of raising turkeys.

February 10, 2015

Sibu Tales : Green Peas

The Kim Guan Siang Cold Storage was one of the oldest in Sibu town.

It served the expatriate community well while missionaries and British Officers frequented the nice little supermarket, Chinese business men and housewives also made some purchases.

The British products which were very welcome to the frugal Chinese housewifes were frozen beef (topside),tinned Dundee Cake, corned beef, jams and butter Of course the cordials were very popular. Besides Kim Guan Siang also operated a bakery and their butter cakes were always displayed in their special glass cabinets.

However one of our favourite items from Kim Guan Siang, apart from the above, were green peas and ham. These were purchases once in a while especially when my father like to have his green peas with ham, and potatoes with his Hainanese chicken chop. My father also liked his pork chop.

Peas and luncheon meat stir fried together continue to be on our family's menu from time to time.

February 7, 2015

Sibu Tales : Scales for Weighing Vegetables

Long ago, it was common for every one in Sibu to use the dachin or Chinese scales. Then later there was a lot of arguments about business men cheating customers by using dirty tricks on the daching.

Also at the same time, Malaysia was going metric as it was a fashionable and global trend. The country's leaders decided that we had to go metric and not use Imperial measurements which were deemed imperialistic and colonialistic and too British, besides other reasons.

So in came the new scales with metric system.

For a long time local Chinese people and especially Foochow women from the villages could not get used to the new measurements of Kilogram, milligram. And especially my grandmother who found 1000 gm too big a figure!!

One Tan, one Kati, one Leong were familiar terms which local Chinese had been used to for all their lives.

In schools teachers also had to teach the new measurements and had to "re-fire" the imaginations of the students.

Teachers would have to use realistic examples to help students learn about kilograms.

" This pig in your farm is  80 kg. and your uncle's weight is 80 kg..." and the Foochow kids would answer..."Or....jian ni oh...really?"

But strangely, when measuring many big animals, the Chinese daching is still being used and the "dots" read and converted.

Some people are good at converting katis to kilograms. Are you?

I depend on the scales. I have to agree with the scales and walk away feeling happy. No point debating with a scale...And I won't tell the hawker off that "His scale has eaten me...." which is the Foochow expression of "cheating on the scales"..

February 4, 2015

Sibu Tales : Sarawak Turf Club

Sibu has a Race Course Road. And I used to wonder if there was ever a real race course there.

But in actual fact, the Sarawak Radio in the 50's and 60's used to broadcast the races and men would be glued to the radio to listen to the results.No automatic alt text available.

Anyway, one of my favourite memories of Horse Racing was related to the Singh who sold lottery tickets to every one in Sibu and especially my father. He would come around the coffee shop and say, "Mr.Chang, win, win win..."

He was a very pleasant man and most people would buy from him, two at least.

Some how I always associated horse racing with this Mr. Singh. My father never won any lottery and towards the last years of his life,he lived a very low profile life, preferring to read, doodle, and draw with an art pencil. And he also said that he had to avoid Mr. Singh!! We thought it was quite easy because it was easy to see Mr. Singh from a distance in the small town of Sibu.

No automatic alt text available.

But being young I did not understand anything about horse racing, the Sarawak Turf Club in Kuching.. And I did not know that it was a kind of gambling.

Lottery tickets are called "Horse Tickets" in Foochow.

Today many Chinese calendars still print the horse racing days (Ipoh, KL,etc)

February 2, 2015

Nang Chong Stories : Hens and Eggs

When living in a Chinese village, one often felt that distance between the individual houses was fairly decent. Not many houses were too close together. My grandmother's house was "within shouting distance from my uncle Lau Yung Chiong's house". Some how because we lived by the river side, our voices could be carried loud and clear across the padi fields. Aunt would always call grandma to come over for some noodles whenever she slaughtered a chicken, especially for my grandmother's birthday.

Here's a story related to hens and their eggs.

And in those long gone days theft was almost unknown. And no one would have the bad name of being long handed (Foochow saying).

No automatic alt text available.

But there was one man who was rather lazy and he never held on to a steady job. He was even too lazy to go to school when he was young. So he ended up almost illiterate.

Uncles, cousins, and every one we knew  of would help him find a job. He took a job as a boat man, but he found the job too simple and boring.

He took a job as a carpenter but he was lazy in carrying wood.

In other words, he was quite spoilt. He would wake up late in the morning because he would have a few extra beers at night. And that made him a very irregular rubber tapper.

When it was time to smoke the rubber sheets, he would come around to give a helping hand. He would be happy carrying a thing or two. But he would be happiest having the meals together with the other rubber tappers who brought rubber sheets to my grandmother's smoke house in Ah nang Chong.

Now, my all my aunts reared chickens. And he would always be the culprit for taking the extra egg in the morning.No automatic alt text available.

Well since he was a relative. everyone closed an eye and said that,"Hopefully the hens would just lay that extra egg for someone who does not like to work for a living."

Sibu Tales : Cake Making and WI

The Women's Institute was recruiting members and our neighbours Kak and her sister joined. They persuaded my mum to join but she was ada...