“A father’s tears and fears are unseen, his love is unexpressed, but his care and protection remain as a pillar of strength throughout our lives.”
– Sri Lankan writer and journalist, Ama H. Vanniarachchy
SINCE it is Father’s Day, I’d like to dedicate my column today to my father, Liong Poh Chuang.
Although he passed away two decades ago, two songs always remind me of him whenever I hear them on the radio.
One of them is ‘Papa’ by Paul Anka, and the other is ‘Dance with My Father’ by Luther Vandross.
My father hailed from Hainan, an island province of China. Born in 1927, he sailed to Sarawak in a junk boat when he was about nine years with his father. My grandfather, I heard, opened a ‘rojak’ (traditional Malaysian salad) stall in Sarikei and did a roaring business there.
When my grandfather, who was also good in martial art, saved enough money, he went back to China with my father and many sacks of money.
In China, when my father became a man, he married a girl to whom he was betrothed as a baby.
Then the Second World War broke out in China. At that time, there was a ruling – if there were two sons in a family, one had to join the Army.
To avoid joining the Army, my father, the elder of two sons, hurriedly returned to Sarawak.
First, he found a job as a coffeeshop assistant in Kanowit, a town in upper Rajang River. That was where he met my mother.
Later, my parents moved to Sibu. They had six children together and I was number two. While my father continued to work as a coffeeshop assistant, my mother was a housewife.
Later on, Father worked for Kheng Chew Association, the Hainan association in Sibu, as an assistant, sweeping the floor and arranging the mahjong tables for members who decided to play a game or two at the premises.
Just as Paul Anka sang in his song ‘Papa’, “Everyday my papa would work to try to make ends meet, to see that we would eat, keep those shoes upon my feet.”
When I was young, I seldom saw my father. Sometimes, he would come home for lunch. His mode of transport was a bicycle.
While Father was eating his lunch, my elder sister or one of my younger brothers would grab the opportunity to cycle around the neighbourhood on my father’s bike.
Father was happiest and proudest when his kids were among the children who did well in their school examinations and received education incentives from the Kheng Chew Association.
The presentation of the education incentives was a big affair, attended by many important members of the association, and my father would proudly introduce us to his friends and bosses.
At the gathering, there would be speeches by the dignitaries, lots of food and drinks. The incentives were not much, just RM20 or RM30 each but in those days, the value of money was big. Imagine buying a basketful of grocery for just RM5!
When I was young, my father did not talk much to me or my siblings. We were quite scared of him because he looked quite stern and seldom smiled.
But as Paul Anka sang in his song, time flew and the years began to fly. Father aged and mellowed. He also learnt to joke with us.
When I moved to Kuching to work, so did my father. He first worked in a coffeeshop owned by a friend at Satok and there, he made the best Hainan coffee and toasted bread for the customers.
As a young journalist then, I had the chance to take pictures of him as he roasted the coffee beans outside the coffeeshop. I ended up writing a story about a coffee bean roaster.
Next, Father worked for the Kuching Hainan Association at Jalan Petanak as the caretaker.
Although the years have flown, my niece, Ah Hong, still remembers the tremendous fun she had when she and Father joined a lantern procession organised by the association near its premises. She was about five years old then.
Father liked to buy food that Ah Hong loved. Knowing that I was busy at work, he would use the bus to go home and later return to the association.
In his song, ‘Dance with My Father’, Luther Vandross says, “If I could get another chance, another walk, another dance with him, I’d play a song that would never ever end. How I’d love, love, love to dance with my father again.”
In my case, if I could get another chance, I’d love to chat with my father again and again and interview him about his voyage to Sarawak before and after the Second World War, how he met my mother and how he coped with life alone, far from his parents and relatives.
For the interview, I will equip myself with notebooks, a camera and a big pot of Hainan coffee.
First, I’d like to apologise to Father for being too busy with my own life and for not taking good care of him as he aged.
Happy Father’s Day, Father! Thank you for coming to Sarawak and marrying Mother. If both of you had not met, my brothers, sisters and I will not be here today.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at adelinel888@gmail.com.
