This is my story -1

1- My Ancestry – My father, a stowaway.

The twelve year old boy was angry, upset, crying his heart out as he stood at the pier. He had nothing, yes absolutely nothing. He had his last gamble and lost everything and the gangsters had taken his cart and the contents of ‘tau yu’ – Chinese black sauce.

He dared not go home for fear of getting another thrashing again by his adopted parents. What should he do? He saw a stream of people – men, women, children moving slowly up the gangway to board the ship. He decided he would join them. No one seemed to take notice of this little skinny, scruffy boy whom the crew thought belonged to one of the families.

That lad was my father. His own family in order to survive had sold him to a couple who had no children of their own. Well, one less mouth to feed. Everything went well in the beginning, but soon his adopted mother gave birth to a son. His whole world gradually changed from that moment.

Love turned to dislike then hate and he was bullied, beaten and tortured for the slightest mistake. They made him sell black Chinese sauce – ‘tau yu.’ If the profits were low he would be accused of being lazy and would get a thrashing.

His friends taught him to gamble. They assured him it was an easy way to be rich and be independent. Sometimes he won, but most times he lost. One day he lost everything and the winners took all that he possessed including his cart and its contents. What was he to do? He had no option but to run away from home, so he made his way to the pier and joined the crowds boarding the ship. He became a stowaway.

During meal times, he joined the queue to get his portion of food. At night he made his way to some quiet corner among the cargo. Finally the ship cast anchor and when the crowds disembarked he joined them and landed in Singapore. The crowds dispersed and this young lad Ah Chye wandered around and finally landed at a construction site. The workers took pity on this lonely, pathetic little boy, gave him food and shelter and made him work.

He became a brick layer and did other odd jobs. He was illiterate, but a survivor. He worked hard, made money, but he loved to smoke, drink and gamble. He was very gregarious and had many friends.

Later, he married my mother a sixteen year old girl and had four children – a girl and three boys. I was the third child in the family. It was not a happy marriage and there was no love lost between them. We were never close to Father for he was often away living at construction sites. He did send money home to support us, but this depended on whether he could get jobs.

Mother had to supplement her income by washing clothes for others. Thank God the washing machine was not invented yet, or we would have starved to death.

One day one of father’s friends invited him to a Teochew Baptist church at Serangoon Road and he became a Baptist. At that time my younger brother and I were attending The Salvation Army at Balestier Corps. I remember, we had to miss Sunday School to join him at this Baptist church.
The pastor invited our family to witness my father’s baptism, but my mother who had already become a Catholic declined the invitation. For some reason my older siblings also did not attend. So my younger brother Anthony and I witnessed his baptism by immersion at the sea off Katong Park. (At that time the Park was by the sea. Since then the Government extended the park with reclaimed land) I recall the Baptist pastor, a kindly old man used to come round in a rickety old bicycle to visit and pray with him.

In 1965 when he was dying my mother got the Catholic priest to baptise him as a Catholic. We were stationed in Penang at that time. I visited him when he was very ill and unable even to talk to us. I did not know how long he would last, so after staying a couple of days with him, I returned to Penang. He died soon after I left him. I could not come for the funeral as I could not afford the fares a second time. He was buried at the Roman Catholic cemetery at Bidadari, Upper Serangoon Road.

Years later when the Government wanted to close down Bidadari Cemetery, I saw to the exhumation of the grave and took the ashes to Lim Chu Kang crematorium where his ashes were placed in a niche given by the Government. I was retired then. So, on my father’s side we had no relatives but on Mum’s side it was different.