tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47655554118880821272024-03-16T15:31:00.996+08:00Sarawakiana@2A blog about events, people, things,in Sarawak.Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.comBlogger3701125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-5203573269212330422024-02-10T09:23:00.003+08:002024-02-17T09:02:40.486+08:00Soh Mien on First Day of Lunar New Year<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxT4A-fTF6bhE1JhpHUs4viNtwouKBqSicioaOJoK0otdyBxRnBIaexhWeI5xbCn6Er3b5S8o7pfho07726eR-dNR9y0g4yiMH6UQUohyphenhyphenV-81y13_MkJlwY9f0Z70xDgJyfG1XIJr1EBWWWM_uXRMph1Pdj3qDg77p5lQfknMuuhV023OmeDeqsmgNdpcs/s960/426489032_7587662624580215_6072454909735972189_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxT4A-fTF6bhE1JhpHUs4viNtwouKBqSicioaOJoK0otdyBxRnBIaexhWeI5xbCn6Er3b5S8o7pfho07726eR-dNR9y0g4yiMH6UQUohyphenhyphenV-81y13_MkJlwY9f0Z70xDgJyfG1XIJr1EBWWWM_uXRMph1Pdj3qDg77p5lQfknMuuhV023OmeDeqsmgNdpcs/w400-h300/426489032_7587662624580215_6072454909735972189_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> Today 10.2.2024 is the first day of the New Lunar Year of the Dragon. Yes I have cooked the chicken and made the soh mien. Happy New Year!! Praise God we have come this far in our life.<p></p><div>On the first day of the Lunar New Year, Foochows originating from Minqing, Fujian, living in Sarawak would always prepare SOH Mieng or longevity wheat noodles with a chicken soup. A generous amount of red rice wine would be added to the bowl of noodles besides chicken meat, shitake mushroom and a whole hard boiled egg.,</div><div><br /></div><div>The hard boiled egg is a must because it will symbolise peace. Eggs are always held as an auspicious food by the Foochows. Egg in Foochow sounds like LONG or WAVE. so when you eat an egg or two, or you bring hard boiled eggs when you travel, you are actually indicating you are controlling the waves in the sea or river.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the early days hard boiled eggs were even sold to travellers at the Tua Pek Kong Wharf. Relatives would buy the eggs and give to the travellers, remarking..."Eat eggs, control waves. Peace."</div><div><br /></div><div>Today many people have forgotten this symbolism.</div>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-6588891985204712252024-01-06T08:30:00.001+08:002024-01-06T08:30:16.938+08:00Local Rice Varieties and their Future<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NIGLKITE49ovHVn3uQv8HNNoiBM31iEMNHSF-bq97OORfTT7kbLmEy3M0xbtgIy8NljbRwWpcDjL8EJImx-N-btW7C1bkeMi4thaafFHVqz-F6aWDDANSsvH52XEMOq_4CprafWDrGGLUsv943w-WFg2emJiLOD_ZiYdifMQlcY67LUu2XnXnf_96xcg/s2048/413003014_7423759060970573_3785610357445175067_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="878" data-original-width="2048" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NIGLKITE49ovHVn3uQv8HNNoiBM31iEMNHSF-bq97OORfTT7kbLmEy3M0xbtgIy8NljbRwWpcDjL8EJImx-N-btW7C1bkeMi4thaafFHVqz-F6aWDDANSsvH52XEMOq_4CprafWDrGGLUsv943w-WFg2emJiLOD_ZiYdifMQlcY67LUu2XnXnf_96xcg/w640-h274/413003014_7423759060970573_3785610357445175067_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> Life in smaller towns of Sarawak often bring people closer to padi fields and rice producers. I have lived in Limbang and Kanowit, and now I am living in Miri where some good rice is grown nearby Bekenu and outlying areas.<p></p><div>It is often a nice outing to visit farms whenever there is a holiday with friends. I can even play tour guide and drive friends along the smaller roads to Bekenu , Beluru and a very small place called Sg Tiris where farmers continue to grow rice.</div><div><br /></div><div>Further away from Miri are two places where good rice is grown, Bario and Long Banga. A friend still has a padi field in Pa Ukat and I have a good Saban friend who grows both hill and wet padi in Long Banga. Some friends continue to bring to Miri rice grown in Long Lellang, which is served by Sarawak Rural Air Serice.</div><div><br /></div><div>In December 2023 I went to buy Kanowit Rice, a special fragrant rice and was told by the friend rice vendor at the tamu that since the MCO it has been very difficult to get the variety. Oil palm has taken over as a very important cash crop and padi farmers have become oil palm growers in the last 10 years. And slowly more and more padi farmers have abandoned their rice fields for oil palm.</div><div><br /></div><div>That is also one of the reasons why local rice is getting more expensive. It is difficult to say what the future of local rice varieties would be like.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let's keep our fingers crossed and pray that farmers will consider growing more local rice in the next five years to keep the heirloom rice varieties safe.</div>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-31706479973970453512023-12-24T13:09:00.001+08:002024-01-03T13:26:17.379+08:00Lessons from Aunts<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDOLY9MDFqtC_p3CUb3qTXtxyGEL9hUqbT_icmEJmImAW5M_SCLQnKzvE3E5zVidGzrLA0uRt5jTMrTTQQHZU8_Una-e_Uc9lXIuyf_1yqgy8MijoCbR10tRuG740DZx0Idrs7m_qAMazmTqrvd_H8YwooyEYUr8pU0X3blSTciqNnmiwSTVtyR5IbtzB/s960/aunts%20and%20uncle%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDOLY9MDFqtC_p3CUb3qTXtxyGEL9hUqbT_icmEJmImAW5M_SCLQnKzvE3E5zVidGzrLA0uRt5jTMrTTQQHZU8_Una-e_Uc9lXIuyf_1yqgy8MijoCbR10tRuG740DZx0Idrs7m_qAMazmTqrvd_H8YwooyEYUr8pU0X3blSTciqNnmiwSTVtyR5IbtzB/w400-h300/aunts%20and%20uncle%201.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> Christmas time is time for reflection and nostalgia. Mum has been gone since 2020. And this is the 3rd Christmas we dont have her.<p></p><p>Each Christmas as kids we would think of all our aunts and uncles, grandparents and parents who have left us. Time passes all too fast.</p><p>This year we remember Aunt Carrie who left us 4 years ago..The photo shows her in blue. The other are still around. I am grateful.</p><p>My father was very fond of his sisters who were extremely beautiful. My aunts' beauty was well known in the whole of the Rajang Valley. They were tall as teenagers and well eduated in the Yuk Ing Girls' School Three of them went to St Theresa in Kuching to study in the 1950's, at the time when I was still in lower Primary school. My father asked all of us to emulate them.</p><p>Lessons from 7th Aunt. By the time I was to understand social dynamics in Sibu, I had two lessons from Aunt Chiew. She taughtme hwo to live in harmony with in laws, She was such a upright Christian, caring and full of conerns for others.</p><p>She also taught me about being polite to all, especially customers. She was one of the owners of Chop Ching Chiong Textile in High Street Sibu and I used to observe her selling materials and other necessities to young and old, men and women. She was ever so polite and thoughtful.</p><p>From Aunt Pick I learned to value the art of cooking for big families and keeping the kitchen clean. She was a good seamstress when she still had good eyes. These days she does not do any more sewing. I used to watch her us paper patterns to make new year clothes for us. She actually learned tailoring from Mrs. Hoover and Aunt Chiew. Aunt Pick taught me to do smocking too but I never captialized on the skill I had in those days and made money.</p><p>Aunt Greta taught me Maths in school and I was terrified of making mistakes. May be it was because of her sterness I was very good in Maths. My Indian teacher later could not be believe that a girl could score 100% in three consecutive tests in class. Aunt Greta was a Maths teacher until she retired.</p><p>Aunt Carrie was the glamourous aunt of our family and she lived in Hong Kong. She used to work for BOAC. She taught my sister and I to be creative in making of jewellery. But she too was a good dressmaker. She made dresses for us for Chinese New Year when she was staying with us and she was only in Form 4 and Form 5!! We all missed her after staying with us for 5 years to live in Hong Kong.</p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-41624941092770667292023-12-19T10:23:00.001+08:002023-12-24T10:40:52.534+08:00Sibu : Chinese New Year Couplets<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyOqtY-f5fO-9igRTO0lupARI_MF4zqtFYspIdxQVqrJ4VbTmufIfCSXCU3Ud6eya4ndbgfduX0NYPrHW2SC_St5PkZtI7yd8YJVMJM5k9akBYRb7W_eNZIY1gnaBCx43oDAWIw4_-L2cT7HKb8FCYi69DKqTrz-Sl3KBY7TLL0KeCoQ5csTimlf6RDi3r/s1620/1559547_801761283173752_1475912668_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyOqtY-f5fO-9igRTO0lupARI_MF4zqtFYspIdxQVqrJ4VbTmufIfCSXCU3Ud6eya4ndbgfduX0NYPrHW2SC_St5PkZtI7yd8YJVMJM5k9akBYRb7W_eNZIY1gnaBCx43oDAWIw4_-L2cT7HKb8FCYi69DKqTrz-Sl3KBY7TLL0KeCoQ5csTimlf6RDi3r/w640-h426/1559547_801761283173752_1475912668_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> My friend Wong Meng Lei is famous for Chinese New Year Couplets.<p></p><p>In the olden days, just before Chinese New Year, many older Chinese , including a famous artist, Lau Mang, would go around visiting the towkays, to wish them a happy Chinese New Year. The towkays would hand out a red note or ten dollars or sometimes even more. Some old ladies also join the Chinese New Year couplet business. They would get their grand children to write the auspicious words and then they would go from shop to shop to say their greetings. They often receive less like a few ringgit. But it was a good way of getting some cash.</p><p>I would always count the number of those red paper in my uncles' shops. Those whowere very generous would have more than 20 on their walls.</p><p>The Methodist Message Chief Operating Officer Wong Meng Lei wrote many couplets, and had them printed. The couplets were enclosed in the Wei Li Bao, the Chinese Methodist Message and every read would receive one. Those who want freshly written ones would visit Meng Lei...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJEK6-mEUiythYjxEWo7FhJVtjSkbCApDMEBVXlAvOq0tmqOBkSX8Fys2THYbneApImLtqARnekz_v2iIPYKFbfn1yE1vlnPL6Y0vmu4c0n-dxrStANmdMbfnNv6LClFHCPh0mU8s_1zckC30k0BYfiCNUq2g7aOcFf7cdZddtxL2k14jstMbsEtiuJ9T/s960/12522939_1153723604640848_7948146676825907651_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="644" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJEK6-mEUiythYjxEWo7FhJVtjSkbCApDMEBVXlAvOq0tmqOBkSX8Fys2THYbneApImLtqARnekz_v2iIPYKFbfn1yE1vlnPL6Y0vmu4c0n-dxrStANmdMbfnNv6LClFHCPh0mU8s_1zckC30k0BYfiCNUq2g7aOcFf7cdZddtxL2k14jstMbsEtiuJ9T/w430-h640/12522939_1153723604640848_7948146676825907651_n.jpg" width="430" /></a></div><br /><p>This year is his last year with Wei Li Bao., And we really thank him for making WeiLiBao world famous. He has done a very good job. Brilliant!!</p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-35313650399295052362023-12-13T10:11:00.001+08:002023-12-24T10:22:48.613+08:00Sibu Tales : Boat Ferry<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDpy1M5yom9ZZHq9cGtC4I-rSytuIArnqUH73_Cmh0PHBbtjkPDarg-L1ighzpAcHBdYppaoklaYz_Ip-7GvHRZePcpB0LDu4L5oRh-mJIK6YqRTUOsFQH_JAV0BRQdmiWfdktH7nmHMn51qv8hBrv1WLz5fnTdsUiHEeJwQp7uHI0HYUCOlGRboAZKZL/s1625/966443_777474392269108_1316715671_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1625" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDpy1M5yom9ZZHq9cGtC4I-rSytuIArnqUH73_Cmh0PHBbtjkPDarg-L1ighzpAcHBdYppaoklaYz_Ip-7GvHRZePcpB0LDu4L5oRh-mJIK6YqRTUOsFQH_JAV0BRQdmiWfdktH7nmHMn51qv8hBrv1WLz5fnTdsUiHEeJwQp7uHI0HYUCOlGRboAZKZL/w640-h426/966443_777474392269108_1316715671_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> The rivers of Sibu, which are the Igan and the Rajang, are still served by small boat ferries like the one in the photo. (By Pro Steve)<p></p><p>I would like to share two tales assoicated with boat ferries. I will share the happy tale first.</p><p>My cousin James was a very hardworking son and one Sunday he went back to Nang Chong to help his parents cut the grass in the back yard. Unfortunately he had a heart attack. Every one tried to help him get to the jetty and hail a motor launch to send him to the hospital. There was no long boat in sight and as it was quite laste in the afternoon any boat going to Sibu (20 minutes away) would be very rare. However a friend was able to resuscitate him and as he recovered from his fainting fit, a small ferry came up the river and the family flagged it down and sent him to the Lau King Howe hospital. A short stay and some medication revived him and he was saved. Many years later he got a stent.</p><p>In 1967 my third uncle visited our relatives in Sg. Bidut, akong the river Igan. After a short visit, the family waited for the ferry to corss the Igan to go back to Sibu. But in the heat of the morning my third uncle collapse and passed away. It was a cardiac arrest.</p><p>The whole family was over wrought even though the ferry was there at the right moment my uncle could not be saved.</p><p>Thus jetties and river ferries would always bring a sadness over me whenever I see them, either in photos or in real life.</p><p><br /></p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-70563390600807899732023-12-09T09:27:00.001+08:002023-12-24T10:01:37.114+08:00Baram Tales : Coffee Shop Marble Table<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqfDkFmA-UxgToCsdbbPW01tagwGOO8k4SfibKtYKJWHqp64Eq1yLk63M95RGAPR-Q6uyDRd0qYBoD4gIBeAFiHY2uvV0i43IxGORRq6ALCn1YyKNsOXFgPwk7HguCmSDWIb_hGCvZn_0MiCy9Lg_g_tRScCUygDCKpr9G5sNhXIrLWzSHJ_9NCALvkvE/s448/old%20coffee%20shop.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="448" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqfDkFmA-UxgToCsdbbPW01tagwGOO8k4SfibKtYKJWHqp64Eq1yLk63M95RGAPR-Q6uyDRd0qYBoD4gIBeAFiHY2uvV0i43IxGORRq6ALCn1YyKNsOXFgPwk7HguCmSDWIb_hGCvZn_0MiCy9Lg_g_tRScCUygDCKpr9G5sNhXIrLWzSHJ_9NCALvkvE/w400-h300/old%20coffee%20shop.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /> Coffee shops run by Chinese towkays have some vintage marble tables.<p></p><p>The coffee shop culture of South East Asia has lots of tales regarding marble tables. I have a tale or two to share.</p><p>My great grandfather bought one in Singapore and had it shipped to Sibu sometime in the 1910's when there was a huge sea trade between Sibu and Singapore. When the marble table arrived in Sibu he had it brought over to the Ice Mill which was called Hua Hong (Chinese Prosperity) My great grandfather and his good friend Rev Yao Shiao Khing were famous for giving a lot of names to local businesses. Great Grandfather was patriotic while Rev Yao was a academician, a man of letters.</p><p>Years later, the marble table belonging to great grandfather went to my father who continued to live in the same house as he did when he was alive. My mother married my father in 1948 and she fell in love with the marble table, a valuable asset. She had come from the rubber tapping area where most had only wooden home made tables. To her in her own words, "a marble table was then a status symbol."</p><p>Later when we moved to Sibu, the marble table came with us although it was quite tale that someone wanted to steal it and my mother's brother, a very strong man took the table from the thieves and carried it from the wharf to the lorry. Well you see, the belongings of our family had to be moved from across river to the Tua Pek Kong Wharf and from the boat, all the belongings had to be moved from the boat to the waiting lorry. The marble table was not packed as it would be like today's movers would do. The stuff was carried one by one to the lorry and the movers had to be very alert. Nothing should be carted away anyhow. Third Uncle had that marble table story to tell for a long time.</p><p>"Good things always get stolen."</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9ZjDEK6d14bszctW-CgiVvqg-noV7ZMTCmjzMGGLboRwE-ne388Dn0yzFgM8eMLIKDHaw1RLGxcSJINI3zehI8r6-Ho28zWfB_SUfEDOXpUmmr_MRRLFujIGa_aZlqpC66_CfRNd2wDI-E1phGZr62kgVvUiYHRzmOHlAxPJBqzspCipHWTsTcXM2srw4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9ZjDEK6d14bszctW-CgiVvqg-noV7ZMTCmjzMGGLboRwE-ne388Dn0yzFgM8eMLIKDHaw1RLGxcSJINI3zehI8r6-Ho28zWfB_SUfEDOXpUmmr_MRRLFujIGa_aZlqpC66_CfRNd2wDI-E1phGZr62kgVvUiYHRzmOHlAxPJBqzspCipHWTsTcXM2srw4" width="180" /></a></div><p><br /></p>BanHup in Miri is Hainanese and used to have several marble tables.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzZQTE_ZDln7eED5xG60sS2SuatsIUGMqiyxltCzyT0pr7KuICVnQLj5F5aotg8XOXibpFfSkthBZQuuFh3X1R0vU88_SKeaLwDEDpMaEACV-6dExyy_RBCCmjG32uzaRF07GRQV4gSuxQ1ka2HBbJ6DTmPvoBh3GltQMWG_qhSdAKCzhowTV48Qqd39nq" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzZQTE_ZDln7eED5xG60sS2SuatsIUGMqiyxltCzyT0pr7KuICVnQLj5F5aotg8XOXibpFfSkthBZQuuFh3X1R0vU88_SKeaLwDEDpMaEACV-6dExyy_RBCCmjG32uzaRF07GRQV4gSuxQ1ka2HBbJ6DTmPvoBh3GltQMWG_qhSdAKCzhowTV48Qqd39nq" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>In Marudi there are some very good coffee shops with marble tables but there is only one Hainan Coffee shop, Joon Seng Loong Cafe, that has good bread and coffee. The shop has many marble tables which have been enjoyed by the locals from many diverse cultures. </p><p>Mr. Phua the owner has lots of tales to share. His father had arrived in Marudi from Hainan and started a small coffee shop. This cafe offers good services to people of all races and it is indeed a well loved outlet for all, young and old, to hang out. Muslims and non Muslims love to come to this shop for their morning coffee. It is one of the few shops in the whole of Sarawak that sells ONLY bread and coffeee. No noodles.....sorry. But it is always full.</p><p>The kuihs which are halal are supplied by some Malay suppliers.,</p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-36646993025874297712023-12-04T17:19:00.001+08:002023-12-04T17:19:07.445+08:00Baram Tales : Benches for Ulu People<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgURnw2eXlJuYGQRmwm4hzEesLtqFcuCYPjRVHkujDQwtExpM4cc7Qw-JJPwnyp4rnzUyqEwu78-B6jtIF7EVa_XkqtXracIv5Ciys32wTYmOJhOE460hxunXt5USe7kRFJcXykM40JS7TEs2fk8pDzC6VEv3GrjcdaQJ-e_cB5KfkRjQi8duUYOGMltkxr/s2048/391770223_7165585673454581_4231578351859728701_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1153" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgURnw2eXlJuYGQRmwm4hzEesLtqFcuCYPjRVHkujDQwtExpM4cc7Qw-JJPwnyp4rnzUyqEwu78-B6jtIF7EVa_XkqtXracIv5Ciys32wTYmOJhOE460hxunXt5USe7kRFJcXykM40JS7TEs2fk8pDzC6VEv3GrjcdaQJ-e_cB5KfkRjQi8duUYOGMltkxr/w640-h360/391770223_7165585673454581_4231578351859728701_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> In the past businesses opened their doors early in the morning and closed abiut 5 pm. This was especially true in the Baram towns like Marudi and Long Lama.<p></p><p>One awesome feature of Chinese shops in these two towns are the benches the shop keepers build for their ULU customers. Like in the photo a long bench would be most suitable for cutomers to sit down to rest while they converse with the shop keepers, friends and even strangers. This kind of social intercourse was often considered very courteous and was highly valued.</p><p>today the bench may not be a common feature of urban life. In the olden days some of the benches were fixed to the five foot way and no one would be evil enough to remove them.</p><p>I consider it to be a good hospitality feature and should be maintained.</p><p>photo taken in Marudi at 6.30 a.m. before the shop was opened, </p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-18744235803665428902023-11-30T07:30:00.005+08:002023-11-30T07:30:35.072+08:00Labang : 1920's Brooke Chinese Bazaar<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61WReYd9PsCEh7nlET5zHGod8ZQ6-5p_DVv1ddF95Prt1ViMpPIY4cU3frpgWDijlwhJOJL8x-LsZZOYn6qLr2gIV6xIuyTNUDthx-YpmBA24NSAMGXu52P_4ma4-1cNJRz21KeNPridHgtG8fncjAeW11dZGKKXJp7Ggb-fuPk9rvzsSMj-mdoCdzfwm/s2048/371951521_6977501805596303_4126204383113302089_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61WReYd9PsCEh7nlET5zHGod8ZQ6-5p_DVv1ddF95Prt1ViMpPIY4cU3frpgWDijlwhJOJL8x-LsZZOYn6qLr2gIV6xIuyTNUDthx-YpmBA24NSAMGXu52P_4ma4-1cNJRz21KeNPridHgtG8fncjAeW11dZGKKXJp7Ggb-fuPk9rvzsSMj-mdoCdzfwm/w400-h400/371951521_6977501805596303_4126204383113302089_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">this is Labang Bazaar with only three shops in operation now. Started in the 1920'sby the then Rajah Brooke, it was a thriving bazaar made up for as many as 18 shops then. Jungle produce like rattan, jelutong, damar and belian came from upriver, brought down by Ibans, Punans, Kayans and other minority races in the 1920's till the Second World War. In fact Bintulu was exporting all these products to Kuching and then Singapore. Bintulu was indeed a major belian exporter in those days. Labang was well known.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">During the Second World War Labang was known as the furthest point the Japanese were able to reach. The Ibans from the Kemena valley set up defences with guns provided by the Brooke Government (given before the War) to protect every one, while many of the Chinese hid from the enemies in Sebauh, Padan and Upper Labang and even Tubau.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In the 1980's Labang was a famous timber producing area with lots of sawmills and timber camps. In the 1990's Labang was a pit stop for Bakun engineers and truck drivers. It was also a great supply base.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">today with Pan Borneo reaching completion, Labang along the highway has become a sleepy bazaar.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today Labang is administered by the Sebauh local district.</div><br /> <p></p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-55952311250540127992023-11-25T18:35:00.024+08:002023-12-04T18:57:04.962+08:00Disappearing Miri : Kuomintang Flag<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinU5DBOrPcnspAKYjG0Tqia_mrSKP0pSO6og8OapgG6aDEoNuVlmURZWfGcRB8I6dKh79fyK8z_0oVyE_TjjxYlCsmtJULl2c0gZwU9E6lHGkMGoI1ic3SDEim6KYXbGIezQldtxLu12_H63D2HPPWhjRF_r82WyY3BcgzD3oRdg89URAFFH_58NBe3dfc/s1200/Sun_Yat-sen._He_wrote_the_inscription_in_the_frame._The_nationalist_flags_are_two_of_a_handful_on_display_in_mainland_China._(690327186).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinU5DBOrPcnspAKYjG0Tqia_mrSKP0pSO6og8OapgG6aDEoNuVlmURZWfGcRB8I6dKh79fyK8z_0oVyE_TjjxYlCsmtJULl2c0gZwU9E6lHGkMGoI1ic3SDEim6KYXbGIezQldtxLu12_H63D2HPPWhjRF_r82WyY3BcgzD3oRdg89URAFFH_58NBe3dfc/w400-h266/Sun_Yat-sen._He_wrote_the_inscription_in_the_frame._The_nationalist_flags_are_two_of_a_handful_on_display_in_mainland_China._(690327186).jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> The overseas Chinese and the Chinese immigrants of Sarawak continueed to raise the Kuomintang flag in Sarawak until 1949. For reasons only known to the Brooke Government and the Colonial Governmentm the Chinese immigrants of Sarawak continued to use the KMT flag. Perhaps this was because until 1949 most of the Chinese who came to live in Sarawak were still hoping to back to China and they had no specific identity whatsoever to make them permanent citizens of Sarawak.<p></p><p>Chinese schools continued to raise the KMT flag and students pledged their loyalty to Sun Yat Sen.</p><p>But after the Communist Party of China took over the government of China, the changes came to the overseas Chinese and their politics. The British Colonial Government took a more stringent stand on immigrant Chinese politics.</p><p>The new developing nations of South East Asia also changed their economic, social and political policies.</p><p><br /></p><p>Kuomintang adhered to the thoughts and philosophies of Sun Yat Sen, the father of Modern China:</p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Three Principles of the People</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> (</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Traditional_Chinese_characters" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Traditional Chinese characters">Chinese</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">: </span><span lang="zh-Hant" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">三民主義</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">; </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pinyin" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Pinyin">pinyin</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">: </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><span lang="zh-Latn-pinyin">Sān Mín Zhǔyì</span></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">; also translated as the </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Three People's Principles</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">, </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">San-min Doctrine</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">, or </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Tridemism</b><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-1" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; text-wrap: nowrap; unicode-bidi: isolate;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Principles_of_the_People#cite_note-1" style="background: none; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;">[1]</a></sup><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">) is a </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Political_philosophy" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Political philosophy">political philosophy</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> developed by </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sun_Yat-sen" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Sun Yat-sen">Sun Yat-sen</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> as part of a philosophy to improve </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/China" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="China">China</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> made during the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Republic_of_China_(1912%E2%80%931949)" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Republic of China (1912–1949)">Republican Era</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">. The three principles are often translated into and summarized as nationalism, democracy, and the livelihood of the people (or welfarism). This philosophy has been claimed as the cornerstone of the nation's policy as carried by the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuomintang" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Kuomintang">Kuomintang</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">; the principles also appear in the first line of the </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_anthem_of_Taiwan" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="National anthem of Taiwan">national anthem of Taiwan</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I cannot remember when the photos of Sun Yat Sen were taken down from the walls of Chinese homes and schools. I also cannot remember when was the last time the Kuomintang flag was flown in Sarawak (or Miri.)</span></p><p><br /></p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-14932590161595955062023-11-20T11:47:00.024+08:002023-12-01T12:36:45.500+08:00Disappearing Miri : Chinese Wooden Shophouse<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj998-nMfJ-3HXKJR5aMii-iyfnLQNyhl0Qlb2pPxbtdlJvkGKvng2EqZX9ZH8Li6eOjgYdVay7V7DBwZ9QAk1zCC3gGxSpBTv3hhRJi9s9YVNt-VdubPk-X2Npxlnf_X24L2pACrFT3eIsxq2rSsF1fqqAyK3KCFphfVBJKIN3qbMWZm-X7ArPkx-0Gv03/s2048/406686270_7293072897372524_3315452594915687033_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj998-nMfJ-3HXKJR5aMii-iyfnLQNyhl0Qlb2pPxbtdlJvkGKvng2EqZX9ZH8Li6eOjgYdVay7V7DBwZ9QAk1zCC3gGxSpBTv3hhRJi9s9YVNt-VdubPk-X2Npxlnf_X24L2pACrFT3eIsxq2rSsF1fqqAyK3KCFphfVBJKIN3qbMWZm-X7ArPkx-0Gv03/w400-h400/406686270_7293072897372524_3315452594915687033_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>In the1950's and 60's the Chinese were very enterprising business people who were ever willing to set up a sundry or supply shop in a village which may be even far away from the towns. When Lambir resettlement scheme was set up in Miri in the 1960's, several Chinese families were part of the scheme and one or two families decided to use their allotment to build wooden shop houses, with the first floor as their family homes. The photo shows one of the oldest shops in Lambir. The photo was taken in 2022.<p></p><p>It is a basic square building with an A shaped roof. A balcony would be upstairs for drying of clothes and also acting as a look out. Once the groundfloor is totally locked up the family would feel safe staying on the first floor. AS fence in those days would not be necessary according to an old grandfather. but today every one would like to have fences or walls around their houses.</p><p>the simplicity of former days is now all gone.<br /> </p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-63994881477424708192023-11-11T22:05:00.004+08:002023-11-11T22:05:50.389+08:00Buah Kundong : Buah Asam Masam<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg58N5kp-jhtOoeAfGQoD1YVqPfQT9LrBG2gJlMdz5GJV0EBB5oIXZYm8ZFyrzacf6lwVh-U0U4HZLhPi-kEPsQmwY4uWr-XpbYtFN-Pec6yp4cMFY98eHw0FSaTPtUPFK8BIdTRNck9p9gMDPbI1ZgZ6SEewXiLytgt8AnQBTHRjt0WA2vwYx3oYLeVHSY/s1600/902737_781547411869812_727660593635497019_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg58N5kp-jhtOoeAfGQoD1YVqPfQT9LrBG2gJlMdz5GJV0EBB5oIXZYm8ZFyrzacf6lwVh-U0U4HZLhPi-kEPsQmwY4uWr-XpbYtFN-Pec6yp4cMFY98eHw0FSaTPtUPFK8BIdTRNck9p9gMDPbI1ZgZ6SEewXiLytgt8AnQBTHRjt0WA2vwYx3oYLeVHSY/w400-h300/902737_781547411869812_727660593635497019_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p>This is a sour sweet fruit I used to eat at my grandfather's house in Sg Merah. He had two trees and I and my cousins loved to climb the small tree, and eat the fruits as we sat on the slim branches.</p><p><br /></p><p>Grandma would shout at us and told us off. If we broke the branches she would break our leg. But we paid no attention to her. We ate as lot but soon some of us would have stomach ache. Strangely some of us would be constipated while some would have some runny stools. I suppose our stomachs were made differently.</p><p>But I would remember how much we had eating these fruits. We were such tiny kids in those days. None of us were ever fatty kids.</p><p><br /></p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-73901892225739627582023-10-30T11:38:00.001+08:002023-12-04T12:08:40.766+08:00Baram Tales - Express Terminal in Marudi and sharing of stories<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKF-46L7mx1SN0g8VpV2I3pPM6xXlA70bspjqTo78aU1Br3SFHpago2ZdfXjNvkKJFwq_DdeG6YITP-2d0u7fv2DmhhGweM00W-V_FNlmXnsh2GCnyajQBuqPblh__YC878HX0JomOwfcXlaBePAmVDIPaHEtjDoUNWshCWCF-nYQezlVhOVNejARLk5e/s2048/381998709_7065283650151451_4778743748221807901_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1153" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKF-46L7mx1SN0g8VpV2I3pPM6xXlA70bspjqTo78aU1Br3SFHpago2ZdfXjNvkKJFwq_DdeG6YITP-2d0u7fv2DmhhGweM00W-V_FNlmXnsh2GCnyajQBuqPblh__YC878HX0JomOwfcXlaBePAmVDIPaHEtjDoUNWshCWCF-nYQezlVhOVNejARLk5e/w640-h360/381998709_7065283650151451_4778743748221807901_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>the Express Terminal in Marudi would always be a special place in my heart. From 1990 till 2005 I had to travel to many places and schools in the Baram to provide mentoring and guidance to English teacher trainees. My life was much enriched by the long years of experience.</p><p>I had a near accident when the Express I was travelling in broke a propeller pin and the boat was stranded on the sand bank for more than four hours. I lost a good day's work and I was full of anxieties about facing the then Pengetua, Puan Zakiah Omar. Would she accept the excuse of a river boat accident? And then it had to happen to me.</p><p>We needed to make almost perfect schedule for our Practicum travelling. And thanks to all the conditions in those days I was able to travel according to the timetable made at the Teacher Training College. </p><p>Day 1 and Day 2</p><p>I had to leave home at 5.30 am in the morning and Langgang our faithful college driver would deliver me to the Kuala Baram Terminal at 6,00. The express would leave at 6.30 and I would be at Kuala Pengkalayan to see Mr. Sonny and his teachers at 7.30. But noon I would be able to flag down the express going up to Marudi....where I would spend the night and see two more trainees the next day .</p><p>Day 3</p><p>On the third day I would be speeding across the Baram to Kpg Benawa where I would spend a good morning mentoring one or two trainnes. By lunch time I would return to Marudi to prepare for the next day's travelling up to Long Ikang. </p><p>Day 4</p><p>It would be a very early morning express boat ride again.</p><p>By noon I would leave Long Ikang for Long Lama which I would arrive at about 5. All shops in Long Lama would close at 5 and I would have to make special arrangements to have a simple meal then, or it would be just bread and Nescafe in the small hotel room.</p><p>In the evening my mentee (teacher trainee) could come to meet me and we would discuss her lesson plan.</p><p>Day 5</p><p>Long Lama would always be lovely early in the morning and I would remember it as a very pleasant place. Years later I would enjoy learning more about its history which has a big spot in the early history of Chinese settlement in Borneo.</p><p>the Baram continues to beckon to me.</p><p>there are so many stories to share.</p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-1445402219088557122023-10-05T13:49:00.001+08:002023-12-01T13:56:49.397+08:00Fresh River Prawns or Udang Gala<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9kxsQtJPQKNfgD1zH4m6tHWdSAq4wmjkjvm5_0vusoy7aj-xd9ydVNrUJBFAMO_PgbKtbijQY5ZB6Dz1pimcBuRsGg38hT0TIeRaKhxHSxsS3Oq92XrxE0F9sxCeR55I0d64AbIUndJpKAPQzbXbWAhNSOIdW6GIq03aPNLnkMP2SuqeXy7Qe6vjYEHe/s2048/15068943_1383752851637921_4941351371396360451_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1368" data-original-width="2048" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9kxsQtJPQKNfgD1zH4m6tHWdSAq4wmjkjvm5_0vusoy7aj-xd9ydVNrUJBFAMO_PgbKtbijQY5ZB6Dz1pimcBuRsGg38hT0TIeRaKhxHSxsS3Oq92XrxE0F9sxCeR55I0d64AbIUndJpKAPQzbXbWAhNSOIdW6GIq03aPNLnkMP2SuqeXy7Qe6vjYEHe/w640-h428/15068943_1383752851637921_4941351371396360451_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>today fresh river prawns fetch premium prices all over Sarawak. There are freshly caught and are seldom sold frozen because they are in such high demand in eaterins and restaurants. During Chinese New Year the prices can go as high as RM100 per kg.<p></p><p>In the 1950's my father who was a keen fisherman would start fishing after dinner in the evening by the jetty and by 9 he could come home with a bucket of prawns. This was how provident the Rajang river was.</p><p>He would particularly like to go fishing when my maternal grandmother came to visit.</p><p>Even though my father was manager of the Ice Mill, he never froze his freshly caught prawns.</p><p>Smaller prawns were caught by him whenever he went to the river side using his cast net..</p><p>My paternal grandfather was fond of river prawns and fish and my father would be pleased to get some for him. Grandfather loved patin stesamed with soy sauce.</p><p>That is how I remember how we ate udang gala in our younger days.<br /> </p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-36353477449424861752023-09-28T11:40:00.000+08:002023-09-28T11:40:03.220+08:00Eating Terubok<p> When we were growing up in Sibu, we had lots of fish to eat as my father was a good fisherman and quite a good Chinese expeert on throwing the jala.</p><p>He had come from a poor background when he was young and my grandfather had expected him and his brothers to fish in the river (both the Rajang and the Seduan (or Sg Merah).</p><p>My father used to tell us how happy the family was to have fish soup on the table.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbnUuiPXVygND_kxeMY0er0ewvZNrqL57pwP-TFh_GcsOGr9O_P6f2-QALZCEevG9maTCZDA-eQJldhattChf0fSA-IX0gUcy42CwRc5eqTcZa39Zy2Wuy5GWwtZa9Hj9Z2dYzB93qyLRSfxcvhUpKJnKq7UlwDFrX0to6dri9g1StY1WQ-ZCW22fo0L2y/s448/536201_396626990350517_1731001683_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="299" data-original-width="448" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbnUuiPXVygND_kxeMY0er0ewvZNrqL57pwP-TFh_GcsOGr9O_P6f2-QALZCEevG9maTCZDA-eQJldhattChf0fSA-IX0gUcy42CwRc5eqTcZa39Zy2Wuy5GWwtZa9Hj9Z2dYzB93qyLRSfxcvhUpKJnKq7UlwDFrX0to6dri9g1StY1WQ-ZCW22fo0L2y/w640-h428/536201_396626990350517_1731001683_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>On days they did not have fish, they would have soy bean soup, which he would abhor later on in life.</p><p>Grandma Chong had chickens and ducks in the backyard but they were for festivals and gifts for the older generation when grandpa went to visit them.</p><p>We enjoyed eating terubok, boney but sweet.</p><p>Father taught us to pick on the flesh. When we were older we learned to separate the flesh from the bones in our mouth and then spit out the bones!! We were really expert fish eaters.</p><p>This kind of memory is fading ...as time goes by the eating of terubok is no longer fun when we go into our 70's and 80's.</p><p>I still like the taste of grilled terubok.</p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-33269662086763117782023-09-21T17:34:00.045+08:002023-09-28T07:08:17.165+08:00Go Gentle into the Night... Maternal Grandmother<p>Years ago I could not bring myself to write about my grandmother's passing(in 1985). It was very painful and my mum would always ask me whenever I discussed with her, "Why write about it? It is so sad..."</p><p>Then I was thinking about how my two uncles permitted themselves to buy some strong painkillers to ease her last days of pain. Should I describe their love and sacrifice in detail?</p><p>And there was no photo of the last days with my grandmother too to illustrate my writing. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><p> My Ngie Mah was visually disabled by the time she was 74 years old. She soon became frail but continued to be very independent, not wishing to be a burden to any one. She was totally visually disabled by the time she was 80.</p><p>It was painful for me to see her groping about in the wooden house by the river side in Nang Chong. But kind Third Uncle made sure that her toilet was always clean and the flushing system in good condition. She was able to do everything by herself. so third Aunt was not in any way burdened.</p><p>She never actually had any sickness in her life. But in the last few months of her life she was literary like a wick of a candle, slowly and slowly the light was going out.</p><p>But her final pain was in her heart which had been rather strong, from the time she left Minqing in China for Sibu to her last days in Sibu town. Ngie Mah was definitely made of sterner stuff in a small frame of less than 5 foot.</p><p>Her body was in pain as her heart was giving out. in the last few days of her life.</p><p>My kindly uncle Chang Chung Ching with the help of a local Chinese sinseh suggested the use of some traditional pain killers. We were told to keep it a secret, even from the stern hospital doctor who was a family friend.</p><p>The first night after she was given some, and actually she was in the Lau King Howe hospital in the common ward, she slept quite soundly. She was at peace but her mind was very clear and she knew what she was taking. Grandmother was a wise woman who had seen too many things in her life in her own words.</p><p>The second day, she asked for some more of the black stuff. But we all knew that she was leaving us as the vital signs were getting weaker and the doctors who came by to check her just mentioned that she was very weakened by her long years of living.</p><p>Prayers were said by family members and the pastors came around.</p><p>On the third day, the older aunties brought a silver ring, a pair of silver earrings and a new comb. Those were terrible signs for my sisters and I to witness while my mother and youngest aunt were inconsolable. </p><p>However my uncles still gave her a small piece of the black stuff so that she could go gentle in the night. She was not in pain and she was comforted.</p><p>We waited for her to breathe her last and it was a good send off. the hospital staff did not shoo us away even though the visiting hours were over. It was a gentle going out of a candle.</p><p>the candle had burned to its last strength and the wick was burnt off. Only the fragrance of the candle remains to this day in our mind.</p><p>I have forgotten the smell of the black stuff but I can remember my grandmother's sweet scents from the hair oil she used. </p><p>My sister brushed her hair for her for the last time as we sobbed softly at her side in the mortuary. Every surface was cold to the touch.</p><p>The warmth of a human body had gone out and we would never have a warm embrace from her. We would never crawl up to her in her wooden bed and snuggle and laugh with her.</p><p>She was skin and bones in the last few years and now she was lying there, cold and without life.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJzz9xJ_wUuXi897lnBy0rZGYQlloyvUieKgEZqefybB2PrNxUnbTdw90Sc_a8H8u5NlvwtzOGqrw3dLkqn-WgHWnEyDi0aK1_JqqnNDhB-8iglBL_oXNns6P9IuOXUFFRztEbN_d15VZm6ANYDTengusmR4pEMMJZYmp2QvRvwxKQBHMy51L91qniKccq/s275/83698883_3035864826426707_9052037416231108608_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJzz9xJ_wUuXi897lnBy0rZGYQlloyvUieKgEZqefybB2PrNxUnbTdw90Sc_a8H8u5NlvwtzOGqrw3dLkqn-WgHWnEyDi0aK1_JqqnNDhB-8iglBL_oXNns6P9IuOXUFFRztEbN_d15VZm6ANYDTengusmR4pEMMJZYmp2QvRvwxKQBHMy51L91qniKccq/w318-h640/83698883_3035864826426707_9052037416231108608_n.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Mum and Aunty Yung wiped grandmother's cold white body with new towels as our uncles prepared to clothe her with specially tailored funeral wear, all seven layers of them.</p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-88142488521936046082023-09-16T15:48:00.004+08:002023-09-16T23:05:38.784+08:00Types of Fried Kuih Tiaw in Miri<p> There are many ways of frying kuih tiaw.</p><p>In Malaysia we have Penang kuih tiaw with clams. The Cantonese in Kuala Lumpur fry their kuih tiaw in a hot wok with beansprouts and eggs, slices of pork and prawns. The Foochws in Sibu being more frugal fry kuih tiaw with a bit of beaten eggs and beansprouts and perhaps minced pork.</p><p>Then there is the famous tomato sauce kuih tiaw which has lots of ingredients. It is indeed very tasty. Most people have said that the best tomato sauce kuih tiaw is found in Bintulu.</p><p>Marudi is also very famous for its Marudi kiaw tiaw which is home made kuih tiaw fried with a few eggs, some bean sprouts and dried prawns and slices of pork.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqAWJ6p4mWNWN9aBJafMBPkH-lyhdWaqdMOQD3Rfed850KmWblYnudlwIrAaNf8zX6KN7gQHrlMDfnAaMDieFzk2jlgCFBfdzVKPAYTgyAX5oMRKzgtaW949lca2D21qEe-UBwowTTEl3HP91W9VxGghoCK16WlDbOnO_L6Cks8eI2ayrQfn0Ys2HNaB2/s2048/kuih%20tiaw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1925" data-original-width="2048" height="602" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqAWJ6p4mWNWN9aBJafMBPkH-lyhdWaqdMOQD3Rfed850KmWblYnudlwIrAaNf8zX6KN7gQHrlMDfnAaMDieFzk2jlgCFBfdzVKPAYTgyAX5oMRKzgtaW949lca2D21qEe-UBwowTTEl3HP91W9VxGghoCK16WlDbOnO_L6Cks8eI2ayrQfn0Ys2HNaB2/w640-h602/kuih%20tiaw.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>In the city of Miri, one can get all these different types of kuih tiaw and many more. Miri is a cosmopolitan city and besides many people from all over Sarawak have chosen to settle down in the city. We can even get Limbang kuih tiaw, Kuching Kuih Tiaw etc...</p><p>I usually go to the two stalls in the Miri Central Market for my kuih tiaw. One stall has been operating for more than 50 years. the other one is newer and the two stalls, although competitors, the cooks and the servers are very courteous and helpful.</p><p>As to why I choose this stall most of the time (I have to give business to the other one too) is because I like the taste of the sauce, and the meticulous way the cook prepare the kuih tiaw for you. Also the secret lies in the sauce and the minced pork which the cook will douse over the hot and fiercely fried kuih tiaw from the wok. Enjoy!!</p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-44601799190246660332023-09-06T11:13:00.001+08:002023-09-17T11:29:00.047+08:00Pulau Kerto : Swampy Land<p> Pulau Kerto was an island created out of sedimentation brought down from the source by the Rajang River for thousands of years.</p><p>When the Foochows were allowed to come as agriculturalists by an edit from Rajah Charles Brooke in 1901, the island of Kerto was probably not even named it.</p><p>I was told that the island was named by the Rajah when he came to visit. He asked a local Melanau what that island was famous for. The Melanau replied, :Kerto."</p><p>Kerto means mosquito larva. </p><p>The Rajah thus named the island Pulau Kerto.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQsLL1reqhmS_X0W7q4RjjkSlIjhOnYxAonOuiyG6ePH-AMIaoCRz6XCYGN_cb67EbiZ5fqg_qWufYmNQ_gUXdEL14KZmjxpB_o1ElIKqD75id7Mm8fAu4KR0cDaFIZg8dGnxgwGNHruu6C0FZ4RNfdr_fL1QVkBwc_gymSXF36iRDQoch1WWEfEIspQe5/s260/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="260" data-original-width="194" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQsLL1reqhmS_X0W7q4RjjkSlIjhOnYxAonOuiyG6ePH-AMIaoCRz6XCYGN_cb67EbiZ5fqg_qWufYmNQ_gUXdEL14KZmjxpB_o1ElIKqD75id7Mm8fAu4KR0cDaFIZg8dGnxgwGNHruu6C0FZ4RNfdr_fL1QVkBwc_gymSXF36iRDQoch1WWEfEIspQe5/w478-h640/images.jpeg" width="478" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2QCJLmgA3xRhQpa6QL_rXUrX-LTMCwBc4O1QN-bBnwJ4jtK_Y3TyJ287dsnrBu2z_4O0gtNIkbif0-Gd6IPESbAoCKbOApY0JzsfiKMGyVJV9_-U9uZfeJSZ1c9UC_XxdLtexs0Pb_KmoG0GL2eqWpF9Z1D7aYnMaE6mtZ6eOTxRq-2Pct5NfcYGJ3IB2/s196/images%20(1).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="130" data-original-width="196" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2QCJLmgA3xRhQpa6QL_rXUrX-LTMCwBc4O1QN-bBnwJ4jtK_Y3TyJ287dsnrBu2z_4O0gtNIkbif0-Gd6IPESbAoCKbOApY0JzsfiKMGyVJV9_-U9uZfeJSZ1c9UC_XxdLtexs0Pb_KmoG0GL2eqWpF9Z1D7aYnMaE6mtZ6eOTxRq-2Pct5NfcYGJ3IB2/w640-h424/images%20(1).jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>in the 1920's my grandfather wanted to buy a piece of land with lots of good water supply. Since Sg Merah had red water, he looked at Sg Bidut. and he finally chose Pulau kerto. a short boat ride across the Rajang River would not incur much financial expenditure. So he about land on Pulau Kerto with the Wong brothers. He started the Hua Hong Ice and Rice Mill with the Wongs. In time, they added crepe rubber processing to the huge complext.</p><p>He fixed rails from the jetty to the factory and he bought an boat to transport ice to Sibu town.</p><p>By 1930, the factory was making profits. He was right about the free use of river water and he had pipes and pump fixed to the jetty to supplly the river water for making of ice.The whole factory utilized lost of machinery which my grandfather fitted together with the help of my Grandmother Chong Chin Soon who was educated in English.</p><p>My grandparents were always grateful to the generosity of the Hoovers and their help. When my Grandmother Chong passed away, all my 5 aunts went to the Yuk Ing School as boarders where they gained a very good education. My youngest aunt Grace was the first Foochow girl from Sibu to graduate from an American univeristy (Kansas). She came back in 1958 and became the first woman Dean or Assistant Principal of Methodist Secondary School. Sibu.</p><p><br /></p><p>A swampy land mass or small island caused by sedimentation brought down by a river , in Foochow is called Duong Njiu. It is a geographical feature.</p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-84085216711292729882023-08-26T18:24:00.002+08:002023-08-26T18:24:18.487+08:00Trivia : Gucci Bags<p> <span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Senior Moments to share with my college mates....</span></p><div data-block="true" data-editor="dv2su" data-offset-key="bub08-0-0" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bub08-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span data-offset-key="bub08-0-0" style="animation-name: none; font-family: inherit; transition-property: none;"><br data-text="true" style="animation-name: none; transition-property: none;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="dv2su" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; font-family: inherit; transition-property: none;">I was never a person who looked at Gucci or "any chi" bags...ahem. I could not recognize big brands any way by my 6th Decade. I had been too busy with career and children. Cooking has been my main chore as a wife and mother. Caring for others has also been important in my marriage as I am married into a communal tribal culture.</span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; font-family: inherit; transition-property: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; font-family: inherit; transition-property: none;">With so many C's under my belt, I need no more Gucci, Pucci or any other Chi's.</span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; font-family: inherit; transition-property: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; font-family: inherit; transition-property: none;">And I often said to myself and my friends that we have a lot better things to do than to go shopping for the latest Gucci bag,</span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; font-family: inherit; transition-property: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUXu1T2iLLG4e-evBPxDLhIQ8ttvaP9pdg710O8ekjOMzg75Lh9ZAjTGJgmhRnre_qoZO9cj7-dzrhWr3FUy6vWhc1FPmV21OmNdRa45EolrpynVM22GBo1Ed447Mg2YlJcFnLeOCtLC62VdBqjLY8TTb0XbZop5pIeeC3W5ISCjtUx8h-njEfNGUn3aY/s612/istockphoto-485393576-612x612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUXu1T2iLLG4e-evBPxDLhIQ8ttvaP9pdg710O8ekjOMzg75Lh9ZAjTGJgmhRnre_qoZO9cj7-dzrhWr3FUy6vWhc1FPmV21OmNdRa45EolrpynVM22GBo1Ed447Mg2YlJcFnLeOCtLC62VdBqjLY8TTb0XbZop5pIeeC3W5ISCjtUx8h-njEfNGUn3aY/w640-h426/istockphoto-485393576-612x612.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Fake Gucci bags sold in Malaysia. Photo from Google.</span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />One day I saw a grand lady with a Gucci bag and I did not pay attention to her. She was wearing Birkenstock slip ons too. I did not give her another look, so I just look at the floor and started counting the tiles. We were in a long queue along the Five Foot Way.</span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="370m6-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="dv2su" data-offset-key="ee0vd-0-0" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ee0vd-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span data-offset-key="ee0vd-0-0" style="animation-name: none; font-family: inherit; transition-property: none;">Then I noticed a familiar face of a driver. He walked up and down and looked at me, seemingly asking me in telepathy, "You cannot recogise me and the lady boss?"</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="dv2su" data-offset-key="435bg-0-0" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="435bg-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span data-offset-key="435bg-0-0" style="animation-name: none; font-family: inherit; transition-property: none;"><br data-text="true" style="animation-name: none; transition-property: none;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="dv2su" data-offset-key="7l262-0-0" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="7l262-0-0" style="animation-name: none; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; transition-property: none;"><span data-offset-key="7l262-0-0" style="animation-name: none; font-family: inherit; transition-property: none;">Ah it then dawned on me, I should have recognized the lady with the Gucci bag.</span></div></div>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-59211460769496093992023-08-25T18:51:00.001+08:002023-08-25T18:52:31.193+08:00My Mother's Vintage Egg Wire Basket 1950's<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbAwT-6Sjy47HMyErfutBgOO7ZqcVlIqhRDAbVBQHyyq8-x3yCdwFTZ9lyDFxUwHbS6EmwYnnIOThkPedm2RAiq-fVQYGzmzZR_wrcDGntzQmsEV73JMiye1E5pEqYQf8M88mx1Vdwf_2CBzEKj2_CwYkfG4yUyh0ofYQ9qN-NIpS8QZ36PFLmyzV86hG/s259/370601459_6932348886778262_8411619024879605807_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="259" data-original-width="194" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbAwT-6Sjy47HMyErfutBgOO7ZqcVlIqhRDAbVBQHyyq8-x3yCdwFTZ9lyDFxUwHbS6EmwYnnIOThkPedm2RAiq-fVQYGzmzZR_wrcDGntzQmsEV73JMiye1E5pEqYQf8M88mx1Vdwf_2CBzEKj2_CwYkfG4yUyh0ofYQ9qN-NIpS8QZ36PFLmyzV86hG/w479-h640/370601459_6932348886778262_8411619024879605807_n.jpg" width="479" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My mother's egg basket</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My memory of having eggs started from the time we moved from Pulau Kerto to Sibu town. Father had a new job at the bank and grandma (Ngie mah) came often to visit. She would come from downriver on a Chinese Motor Launch and instead of stopping at Hua Hong Ice Factory, Pulau Kerto, she would stop at the Tua Pek Kong Wharf in Sibu. There she would take a trishaw to Kong Ping Road (the fore runner of Brooke Drive)where we lived.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When she visited we had hardboiled eggs with our chicken soup mee sua. Grand ma would bring a chicken or two and mum would keep on in the chicken coup and slaughter one for our lunch and dinner.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In those days I did not realise that grandma's gift of chickens from down river was to reduce mum's financial burden. It was quite right for elders to say, "Children know only how to eat." Grandma always told others that Mum had brought us up well because we would not ask for choice parts of the chciken. Father would always get the drumstick and so did grandma. My mother would pick the Bishp's noise. I would get the back boae (which was usually cut into three pieces). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Frozen did not come to Sibu until the 1960's. Most of the time we were able to enjoy free range chickens from down river. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Eggs were bought from the Cheng family. Mr Cheng Kuok Gong was my father's buddy from primary school. He had a big chicken farm and sold eggs in the neighbourhood. His two older sons sent eggs on their bicycles. It was one of those home delivery business in Sibu.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When mum received the eggs she would transfer them to her wire basket and we would all be very excited, helping her to count up to 30.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Why are eggs sold in 30's?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As the days went by, the layer of eggs would go down and mum would say, "Need to Hung Nu whcih means send a message" for more eggs. Some weeks we ate more and some weeks less.Mum ran a tight ship but we all hasd good nutritious food.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Father always had half boiled eggs and his Sunkist orange for breakfast. We the children had steamed bread or bao kosong with butter or margarine and Chivers Jam. From our early days in Sibu, mum learned to appreciate strawberry jam , although she would, later in life, find fresh strawberries very sour (no matter how sweet they could be).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I would aways remember eating lots of hard boiled eggs. And then I would remember counting the eggs as the days went by. And I would always be the one to remind Mum that there were not many eggs left in the basket.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;">She would send a message through perhaps Aunty Yien Chuo (Tong Yien Chuo) one of the "Pearls" among her best friends. Aunty Yien Chuo was a pig farmer and she would cycle to the town to collect scrap food for her pigs. She lived quite near the Chengs, so she was a good messenger.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;">And the two Cheng Brothers would soon be at our house, sending eggs. We lost our egg basket when we moved house in 1976 to Lanang Lane 2. But now like every one else, we keep our eggs in the fridge.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;">The egg basket would always be on my mind.....and mum would always be in my heart.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="x78zum5 xdt5ytf x1iyjqo2 x1n2onr6" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: flex; flex-direction: column; flex-grow: 1; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; position: relative;"><div class="x1jx94hy x1ey2m1c xds687c x7wzq59 x17qophe" style="background-color: var(--card-background); bottom: 0px; font-family: inherit; left: 0px; position: sticky; right: 0px;"><div class="x1y1aw1k x1pi30zi xwib8y2 x1swvt13" style="font-family: inherit; padding: 8px 16px;"><div class="x78zum5 x1q0g3np x1a2a7pz" style="display: flex; flex-direction: row; font-family: inherit; outline: none;"><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2 x6ikm8r x10wlt62 x4uap5" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit; overflow: hidden; padding-right: 0px;"><div class="x1iyjqo2" style="flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit;"></div><div class="x1iyjqo2" style="flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit;"></div></div></div></div></div></div>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-64923306561549677752023-08-20T07:35:00.001+08:002023-08-24T08:19:39.397+08:00Baram Tales : Foochow Kapitan<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDIkKq7Uahrs_JbgXnc7M1nyKTQ-Ektt_40F1gd8hsLNj_9u6SPon_Ir3kHlnaGlvYrbcdbavkj6xUEQlKh79DQ6VANXfcU4kP10aEp4TkL9kAwxAJi6l1aOPznjAlL6MKPFjhM-k57njhLal7wLMBLwVqZ_jgl6cVI0j5ncza_dxWYwBcxdGm4c1ZQOAr/s1080/wong%20kiong%20ching.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="811" data-original-width="1080" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDIkKq7Uahrs_JbgXnc7M1nyKTQ-Ektt_40F1gd8hsLNj_9u6SPon_Ir3kHlnaGlvYrbcdbavkj6xUEQlKh79DQ6VANXfcU4kP10aEp4TkL9kAwxAJi6l1aOPznjAlL6MKPFjhM-k57njhLal7wLMBLwVqZ_jgl6cVI0j5ncza_dxWYwBcxdGm4c1ZQOAr/w640-h480/wong%20kiong%20ching.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> Teacher Wong Kiong Ching is one of the most incredible Chinese Kapitan in the Baram.<p></p><p>He was brought to Sarawak when he was a baby by his parents who decided to join the Foochow Settlement in Lubok Nibong-Poyut, initiated by Pioneer Hii Nguong Sherng.</p><p>As a little boy barefooted, he tapped rubber alongside his parents and went to school after his chores. During the Japanese occupation he was sent to live among the Ibans in Sg Peking to hide from the merciless killing of the Chinese by the Japanese. Thus he and his brother were saved.</p><p>After the Japanese Occupation his parents sent him to Sibu to study at the Methodist Secondary School where boarding facilities were available. There he completed his Chinese Middle school and went on to be trained as a teacher. </p><p>Upon his retirement from the Sarawak Education Service, he was made a Chinese Kapitan to serve the community in Marudi.</p><p>He has also written documents about the history of the Chinese in Marudi. A true Chinese gentlement who is upright and God fearing.</p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-9612824635918695702023-08-18T08:59:00.001+08:002023-08-24T09:06:12.108+08:00Chen Lu Ting : Another Book Published<p> Congratulations to my good friend, Chinese writer, Chen Lu Ting on the occasion of her newly minted book, published in Miri.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXSJ0NUXJSyVWY3MXCeWcc6Ei7yUm97vGh54coqlukYoWss26J6xcJl1n4d8BiVqnNP4-su7tUQ5EFQTdEgw1FkVJ0IQQ5MAz4sZGTTXGaaZjhzQcMZEk1MP6qxb15F8m93qot4Q3DaTiF3jkTQDBWjYbD7ewRTHX92XHqPbgKiSqL9nuBPeNvwdhYq0Z/s912/366564629_24465156879750597_7931264024521004964_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXSJ0NUXJSyVWY3MXCeWcc6Ei7yUm97vGh54coqlukYoWss26J6xcJl1n4d8BiVqnNP4-su7tUQ5EFQTdEgw1FkVJ0IQQ5MAz4sZGTTXGaaZjhzQcMZEk1MP6qxb15F8m93qot4Q3DaTiF3jkTQDBWjYbD7ewRTHX92XHqPbgKiSqL9nuBPeNvwdhYq0Z/w480-h640/366564629_24465156879750597_7931264024521004964_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBvQraD1KQDBH7XdBmHuyrurzp_9fVWYMno6TzNrEE9dO_ZKuwuCSk4ZeLglM1sKnm3iwDopgkA-2WCnSFUet1BasbJYLMe2S0QpeupynJggHbZZTIeZQeQDTcw-7f4LEHv4qIPMEHxMeyLZMFf8JF_tok2vn0cYe6ISFrvxX0v6hTn61KYsIhhBH-o4b/s1437/75362296_3128259707190553_576120861476519936_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1437" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBvQraD1KQDBH7XdBmHuyrurzp_9fVWYMno6TzNrEE9dO_ZKuwuCSk4ZeLglM1sKnm3iwDopgkA-2WCnSFUet1BasbJYLMe2S0QpeupynJggHbZZTIeZQeQDTcw-7f4LEHv4qIPMEHxMeyLZMFf8JF_tok2vn0cYe6ISFrvxX0v6hTn61KYsIhhBH-o4b/w640-h428/75362296_3128259707190553_576120861476519936_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Chen Lu or Ting Mee Sieng was born in a little Chinese village called Lung Ngan, near Durin, which is surrounded by Iban longhouses.</p><p>Her childhood was full of events involving the river Rajang and the sturuggles of the Chinese for economic and social progress. The times of her childhood also saw the political struggle of Chinese youths who had to choose between left and right ideologies. Rubber prices plunged in the 60's and it was a struggle for many even to put food on the table.</p><p>Nevertheless her parents struggled to send her and her siblings to school to get out of the poverty the people were experiencing.</p><p>In time she completed her form five in Chung Hua School, Sibu and went on to write and publish.</p><p>She is a very enthusiastic and inspiring woman of substance.</p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-25277405598087695032023-08-15T22:43:00.004+08:002023-08-16T09:10:00.669+08:00Ulu Sarawak : The Pig Head<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggLBjLWDo_BrM87R6r6k5ALSlQZ32fSsaidL7URbeOGXditZoizTLdhoJTenub8QU131xx1senzQtc4-kwleWzHxK51RD8nV5r-EPZf7dJZHgDNtAEv8JFdMDFZVgxVvanqZv_8xDr5j044iSpYmlWDPLpPxfjNpkhWB1ObS0AwBS6gVLCPEYsmuJMGL5/s781/FB_IMG_1692063294063.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="781" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggLBjLWDo_BrM87R6r6k5ALSlQZ32fSsaidL7URbeOGXditZoizTLdhoJTenub8QU131xx1senzQtc4-kwleWzHxK51RD8nV5r-EPZf7dJZHgDNtAEv8JFdMDFZVgxVvanqZv_8xDr5j044iSpYmlWDPLpPxfjNpkhWB1ObS0AwBS6gVLCPEYsmuJMGL5/w640-h508/FB_IMG_1692063294063.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>To the long house folks, the pig head is a delicacy. However there is more about the pig head than a dish on the table.<div><br /></div><div>Since olden days, life among the Ibans has always been very communal. You help me I help you. A former Prime Minister of Malaysia loved to quote the saying.</div><div><br /></div><div>The pig actually occupies quite a central feature in the socio cultural life of the Iban longhouse.</div><div><br /></div><div>Whenever a pig is to be slaughtered, a group of relatives would come together to do the deed. Perhaps 6 men are to form the team for the slaughter of the poor animal by the river side.</div><div><br /></div><div>A good fire is started and wood is collected in a pile.</div><div><br /></div><div>the ritual will begin by putting the pig in a sack and brought to the river side or karangan (pebble beach). Usually the pig would be killed by a spear through the heart. The person striking the spear has to be very accurate to reduce the crying of the poor victim.</div><div><br /></div><div>Once the deed is done, the gunny sack is opened up and the blood of the animal drained. Blood is usually not saved by the Ibans for any form of cooking. </div><div><br /></div><div>The dressing of the animal is done, hairs all burnt and scraped. Then the cutting up of the animal.</div><div><br /></div><div>If the animal is shared, every part is cut up and portioned for the sharers. If six are to share the pig, six piles will be made on banana leaves or any local leaves. For exxample, the liver would be divided into six portions, the heart also six...and so on. This is the meaning of equal sharing in the Iban culture of sharing of food.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now back to the head.</div><div><br /></div><div>The head will be cut off and it is the reward for the team which slaughters the animal and cut up all the meat for the families sharing the pig.</div><div><br /></div><div>However if the pig is for the whole community, e.g. a wedding, then all the meat will be divided in such a way the cooks want them....</div><div><br /></div><div>But the head still goes to the slaughter team.</div><div><br /></div><div>I often wonder if there is a reason behind eating of the head by the slaughter team.<br /> <p></p></div><div><br /></div><div>(Note: Source : Ulu Sarawak Iban's Accounts - Unpublished )</div>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-77800052870009827232023-08-12T18:03:00.006+08:002023-08-13T08:56:12.946+08:001990 : Boy Went Missing<p> If any one asked me what was the most frightening event that ever happened to me in any one year in my life I would say that it was in 1990 when my baby boy went missing for almost half a day.</p><p>It was normal in those days to have full trust in a baby sitter who had been working for many months and she had come with good references from two relatives of your husband. I had to work almost full day in the college, while attending to other family duties like shopping, cooking and cleaning of the house in Luak Bay.</p><p>My children were all below 14 then and my son was just 2 years old. I had left for work at 7 a.m. after making sure that my two girls had gone to school in a private van and my baby boy was taken care of by the young and pretty baby sitter at home. The college was only 5 minutes from my house.</p><p>At about 1.30 my second and third daughters had come home from school and they discovered the house in shambles. All drawers were pulled out as if a thief had gone through our stuff. Even the fridge was emptied. They called me at the college and I took leave from the Principal to return home : there was a break in and my son had disappeared.,</p><p>The whole college was shocked!</p><p>We thought the worst had occurred and immediately I took my two daughters to the Police Station to make a report. It was then almost 3 p.m.</p><p>It was nightmarish and my two daughters just could not stop crying. I had to put a stern face on and think clearly what to do next.</p><p>However relief came most unexpectedly!! It was as if God was planning to give me a second chance in life.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>While already very afraid of the worst and all my nerves were numbed, I thought then I should seek the help of the Superintendent of the Police of Miri then, Sebastian Gaong about my case informally. He was a class mate and was almost like a brother from school. I had politely waited to call him after office hours. Moreover, the police had also asked me to wait for a few hours more to see if any one asked for ransom.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgb0WCmDdb33EXsgHmFoahE4mhuzhX30Ppn2P7DmQSUztXcD9EB6Hp4xRneLZeXX2VgF6PUv3d9qpYYxZBwHuX_FmCKoLLTajyipbxDxcfbsAVFbYPmLiheeMJqxXcu8rVqRq5u-GeqOlzrrJXY2Lp1rE5HE8PxEurmA7kqYUBqItK4G4kSwBJDgPa9GDd6" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="336" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgb0WCmDdb33EXsgHmFoahE4mhuzhX30Ppn2P7DmQSUztXcD9EB6Hp4xRneLZeXX2VgF6PUv3d9qpYYxZBwHuX_FmCKoLLTajyipbxDxcfbsAVFbYPmLiheeMJqxXcu8rVqRq5u-GeqOlzrrJXY2Lp1rE5HE8PxEurmA7kqYUBqItK4G4kSwBJDgPa9GDd6=w400-h400" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You would never know that in the future your paths may cross and amazing things may happen. Sebastian Gaong is the guy in the middle. I am far left. This photo was taken during a school day when Sibu was flooded and school was given a holiday. 1968.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>He was not at all perturbed by the presence of my little boy in his house as he had been told by his uncle that a girl had dropped the boy in the house and the family would pick him up after office hours!!</p><p>Thus when I called Sebastian he was calm as ever and he told me that my baby boy was in his house and having noodles with his grand uncle!! He did not know what a nightmare my two girls and I had in the last four hours!</p><p>Apparently, the amah (I am not mentioning her name) had absconded with some of my valuables with her boyfriend who wanted to marry her and she had to pass the boy to some one. She was kind enough (as a distant relative) to pass the boy to the Tuan Police in the camp.</p><p>According to the AKI, she did not explain anything to him, just asking him to look after the boy and that the family would come and pick up the child after office hours!!</p><p>And she left in a taxi with her boy friend. It just happened that that day every one of the Gaong family was busy with some activities and only the AKI was at home. The Gaong children were at school the whole day and Mrs. Gertrude was attending a women's function in town. Aki being the stoical elder did not think of anything untoward.</p><p>Another question arose in my heart at that time, what if the old AKI was not in the house at that time? Where would the amah leave my boy?</p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-63665346294382585252023-08-05T15:49:00.047+08:002023-08-15T16:05:19.025+08:00Hin Hua Dish : Intestines<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq05a-iVXjN34l0OtmVVbDrO3xzTNDPYhsTcCjVD3PMwpdJugZ6oRBL1FP_6q93JGMAnZjBph4G9l9lFts1xiuIvGD4pW837-LO0Fait2QD6LAG2fZN_T7DBROxRmpIBV9Xf5IN2-QIPeeZzt_XgDdNWgNmvphG3zVSTiIwbQqcaZhUSbWuDa-Hb7j8C7D/s1080/277308658_5366046213408545_1412628215924168502_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq05a-iVXjN34l0OtmVVbDrO3xzTNDPYhsTcCjVD3PMwpdJugZ6oRBL1FP_6q93JGMAnZjBph4G9l9lFts1xiuIvGD4pW837-LO0Fait2QD6LAG2fZN_T7DBROxRmpIBV9Xf5IN2-QIPeeZzt_XgDdNWgNmvphG3zVSTiIwbQqcaZhUSbWuDa-Hb7j8C7D/w640-h480/277308658_5366046213408545_1412628215924168502_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> This dish is a festive dish created by the Hin Huas from Putien.<p></p><p>I first had it when my father brought it back from Sg Merah many years ago. He had attended a dinner and the kindly wife of the host decided to pack some extras for him to take home for my mother and the kids.</p><p>In those days most men would attend home dinners without bringing their wife or children, out of courtesy. Even though many of the meals were home catered, in the villages, an invitation would only be out for the men, especially if it was a small family do and work related.</p><p>It was a man's 60th birthday so my father went for the lunch invitation. He had many Hin Hua friends from his childhood days in Sg Merah. And he spoke good Hin Hua. Among his most famous friends was Rev Ling Kai Cheng. But the two of them always spoke Foochow to each other.</p><p>The Hin Huas have many good dishes made from cast outs like, pig trotters, intestines, pig face etc.</p><p>Can you see the 9 folds in the intestines? 12 inch long intestines are "meticulously chosen and tirelessly washed, looped, cooked, extended, seleted and braised to perfection..."</p><p>Two ladies would always remain in my mind when I see this dish placed in front of me...Ah Huong and Mrs.Wee (Siew Chuo) who lived next door at Lane 2A Airport Road. They had shown me how to make this dish but because I was such a career woman I did not pay attention to their teaching all those long years ago. Now I would really like to learn how to make this dish. I have to follow youTube lessons now. Ah Huong has passed on and Mrs. Wee lives in Sibu.</p><p>The Hin Huas are like the French who created many baked recipes which would use up all ingredients economically. Nothing would be wasted in the kitchen.</p><p><br /></p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765555411888082127.post-27388219567614080352023-07-05T18:19:00.001+08:002023-08-13T18:28:37.560+08:00Flowers of the Sweet Cangkok Manis<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rZ6_MuvrF_SGK8p4bhck0qpFILno7kL82ADF_ZNp_pqZLFGUguuykfHKhpfK2I8ENrMZFg0RuB4TGK7dDeBYDtGEVUFQinpq-JjWR0AvfOPenh8qIUiIJ76And8rR19fS5QKd2GDlmcowyUe9U5d5RwyfYiDS5HHj-K22xZx_MSzsrRu71dAWKjFl0-8/s1824/manicai%20flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1368" data-original-width="1824" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rZ6_MuvrF_SGK8p4bhck0qpFILno7kL82ADF_ZNp_pqZLFGUguuykfHKhpfK2I8ENrMZFg0RuB4TGK7dDeBYDtGEVUFQinpq-JjWR0AvfOPenh8qIUiIJ76And8rR19fS5QKd2GDlmcowyUe9U5d5RwyfYiDS5HHj-K22xZx_MSzsrRu71dAWKjFl0-8/w400-h300/manicai%20flowers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>The Cangkok Manis is a vegetable eaten by the native people of Sarawak. It was discovered to be very edible by the Foochows in 1902 when they first arrived in Sibu under the leadership of Wong Nai Siong.<p></p><p>In fact, my grandfather, who was among one of the first Foochow pioneers, told us stories of how they secretly observed the local people : where they went to look for food, how they cooked food etc.</p><p><br /></p><p>My grandfather learned how to tap jelutong from the Ibans and followed them to Ulu Sg Merah to look for jelutong trees. And as his relationship with his new found friends grew, he found that the cangkok manis was really a very sweet vegetable. He laos learned that he did not have to wait for the flowers to form seeds to grow the vegetable.</p><p><br /></p><p>All he did was to stick the stalks into the fertile soil and soon he would have vegetables to eat. For the rest of his life he would always have a few plots of cangkok manis in his backyard.</p><p><br /></p><p>the flowers of the cangkok manis are beautiful.</p><p><br /></p><p>A few of my relatives did take seeds overseas to grow cangkok manis in their new land. But many did not find success in growing them even in West Malaysia. However, a cousin and his sons have grown cangkok manis in Fujian and they are now supplying the vegetables to mainland restaurants.</p><p>In fact my<br /> </p>Ensuraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05201156760287157665noreply@blogger.com0