My maternal grandmother's house (four units, terrace, double storey on stilts) was big enough to have one unit completely rented out to Uncle Wong Dieng Ching for his sundry shop. Uncle wong sometimes stayed in the shop, sometimes he would go home. His bicycle was the tall type and in the morning he would cycle to Grandma's house to open his shop. He was quite regular but sometimes he would go to Sibu town for a day or two to get his supplies.
His sundry shop served many villagers who would drop by to buy chicken feed, duck feed and rice. He also sold broken rice besides green beans, soya beans, red beans and black beans. His most popular goods were sugar and salt. Those who bought from him did not have to spend time and money to go to Sibu. they were happy with his supplies which we all thought were very fresh.
His sundry shop smelled of salted fish, rice bran and husks, corn, biscuits, kerosene, diesel oil, and wet gunny sacks. But it was a good place to hang out with cousins and villagers from the back of the hills. It was good to listen to all the gossips and observe how each one behaved. From young I had that "eye for details" and I did stare most of the time. And naturally commited everything to memory. the writer in me was still in the foetal stage.
But among all my cousins, I was already the chief story teller, mainly because I read a lot.
There were of course many tins of biscuits for sale, especially Marie, butter cream and those square biscuits or soda biscuits.
He also sold aerated water from Ta Fong and some Guiness Stout and beer. My third uncle would be the one who helped him carry the boxes of aerated water (72 bottles in a crate) on his shoulders from the motor launch. I cannot remember if he sold arak or not. He himself did like some alcohol and he would drink together with my third uncle.
But the best memories about his shop were the row of glass containers containing all the nice biscuits and sweets, which he meticulously arranged.
In those days there were no keropok for kids or other kinds of snacks.
He kept his money locked up in a box. On top of the box was an opening through which he would slip his coins and notes.
My uncle Hii Wen Hui helped him to check his accounts from time to time, going through bills and cash in hand.
One night when he was not around, a thief went into his shop and stole quite a bit of money. He was the only one who knew how much was taken because he kept a meticulous ledger.
He was quite forgiving and he did not call for the police. And not long after that times were bad, with all the political unrest, he too moved away to join his children in Sibu town. He got quite old too and was not able to cycle. But I remember one time I did catch a glimpse of him in the village, so old and frail. His daughter had put him on the saddle of his old bicycle and she pushed the bicycle towards his home at "the back of Nang Chong". He must have come to visit his daughter.
Many years later after I left Sibu, I heard that he passed away. I felt rather sad, remembering him and praying for him. He was such a kind and gentle soul.
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