Qing Ming 2025

 Qing Ming Weekend in Tampin & Johol.

The Qingming Festival by the Riverside, is a long, painted scroll 528 cm long and 24.8 cm wide, which portrays street scenes of Bianjing (today's Kaifeng City, Henan Province), the capital of the Northern Song Dynasty (960-1127).The work was created by Zhang Zeduan, a native of Shandong Province who studied painting in his early years in Bianjing.

It was fun from the very onset when Kelvin picked me up, 'chauffeur-driving' his parents sitting like The King & Queen at the backseat of his pickup truck. I gave a big hug to big brother Johnny seated at the back looking cool in sunglasses, framing a red and healthy face. 

“He’s skinny isn’t he?” said Karen looking radiantly happy & concerned at the same time. 

"He looks healthy" I said, and climbed into the front passenger seat and gave Kelvin a hearty handshake having not seen him for over a year. I was dying to catch up with this awesome nephew of mine. And we have the entire road trip to share & catch up with everyone. 

Traffic going south on the PLUS highway was unusually heavy for a Sunday afternoon.

Thankfully I had Kelvin to keep me entertained with his travel stories in the West. Johnny & Karen were as quiet a snoring mice. With intermittent rain, traffic got a lot lighter after Seremban and we reached Woon Estate just before 6pm. We were warmly welcomed by an anxious and impatient nephew in the form of Danny who was either very happy or very hungry. 

Being the filial and responsible nephew, Danny was visibly happy to see us and promptly ushered us to the dinner table, where a feast was laid out that looked like a CNY reunion dinner spread. How fitting it was as neither of us have spent a CNY reunion together for way too long. This was exactly May Sia’s sentiments. She has taken some pains to cook us our favourites-stewed pork leg, chicken curry, sambal petai, an assortment of sautéed green vegetables & legumes (mysteriously missing were sauteed cabbage) topped off with two-types of rice- white or purple yam. Yummy to both!

When Darren, Danny’s son arrived with girlfriend Emily, everyone was forced to sit and dig into dinner even though it was only just past 6pm. Who eats dinner at 6pm? I thought. Perhaps rednecks Chinese? Yup that would be us! Middle class workers, farmers/landowners. With a touch of baba/nyonya aristocracy

Everyone enjoyed the delicious dinner accompanied by a bowl of black bean pork ribs soup each. Johnny especially had a good time & a big appetite shovelling food into his frail frame. I had one helping of yam rice and two helpings of white rice enjoyed leisurely. It was a lovely familial communion over traditional family fare cooked with love. Thank you May Sia. Dessert came in the form of very sweet passion fruit like no other we have tasted. Danny claims it’s from his farm. It’s really sweet. We sat chatting way past dinner. 

The time is 10.40pm. Some people are hungry again. Everyone leaves for town to have supper of roti canai, satay and teh tarek except me, I was too stuffed so I sit out to enjoy the solitude of the town I was born in and the hood I was raised in till I left home. It felt exactly like how it was when I was a teenager growing up. It’s been over half a century yet the environment is still, quiet, serene and peaceful. The gentle breeze & fresh air felt comforting. This is home. I felt good. At peace. 

Then the food horde returned and went straight to bed. Danny & I sat chatting & listening to music till late under the newly renovated high-ceiling patio that looked like a spacious dining hall cum living room. Raising the roof really does raise the ceiling and the standard of living. It improves air flow, encourages upward glances and contemplation.

Monday morning. Most of us were up just after 7am to be greeted by Johnny’s deep chattering voice and a morning downpour. We sat chatting over coffee while waiting for the rain to clear so we could enjoy a hearty Tampin breakfast promised by Danny. As the rain subsided, we were brought to Mani’s place, an Indian restaurant on a side street behind the big market. All six of us ate to our hearts content, notably Johnny who ordered & ate everything up. Mani does serve very good Indian breakfast or even lunch. The bill was RM37 happily paid by Danny who said he saved spending more had we gone to the fishball laksa originally planned. With the rain down to a drizzle, we set out for Johol for tomb sweeping. Just the 3 of us. An uncle-me and two nephews-Kelvin & Danny. As we drove off, the stock market had just opened, being a Monday following Trump’s Liberation Day on April 2. Danny lamented on the quickly crashing stock markets while fulfilling orders from his clients on his mobile device conducting business as usual in his truck. He turned to us smiling as he announced he had already recouped the cost of our breakfast. 

 

It was drizzling as we arrived at the foot of the cemetery. The fitter and younger men reached Papa & Abu’s grave effortlessly while Danny huffed & puffed his way slowly up the steep hill. 

Since it rained all night, coupled with the fact that we missed last year’s Ching Meng, there was quite a lot of debris to clear which was, with some effort executed by 3 able-bodied men. The big tree under which our parents rested has grown even bigger spreading her canopy over a wider area of the grave providing us a natural cover from the rain. It was a picturesque setting atop the hill, worthy of a Chinese painting. 

After clearing most of the debris we performed the rituals and prayers with all the necessary paraphernalia including counterfeit US currency, to the latest iphones. After burning the offerings, candles & joss sticks we sat with our parents for a while admiring their clear and unblemished faces adorning the tombstone, smiling back at us while a troop of monkeys foraged in nearby trees. This spot hasn’t changed much in almost 40 years. The view of the green valley below remains unspoilt. This is good Feng Shui I surmised. Looking around at graves populating the hill, a popular saying comes to mind; ‘You can take a Chinese out of China but you can’t take China out of the Chinese.’ Against the backdrop of the current economic crisis, China seems to be at the center of it. 

On the way back we paid a visit to our crumbling ancestral home built by grandfather Gan Swee in 1919, then the Kapitan China of Johol during her glory days. We entered the house to retrieve a few books and files from my last residence here during Covid, minding our startup herbal farm for over 2 years. Our second uncle’s youngest son, Ah Chai, has taken abode here and is currently caretaker. He looks well fed & healthy. Said a brief hello and a quick goodbye to our young cousin and left, hoping to return again soon.

 

We got back to Woon Estate by early afternoon, cleaned up, packed up and left for lunch in Tampin town. Danny promised us the best fried chicken in town situated near Ambank. We arrived to find it closed on Mondays. We unanimously agreed to opt for Long Kang Mee. It was closed as well. 

 

So we finally settled for a nearby coffee shop called Tampin Rojak housing a variety of local food stalls which we enjoyed including the rojak. We promptly left after 2pm as Kelvin had an appointment to keep back in KL. 

We said our goodbyes to the best host and hostess in Tampin promising to return with a vengeance. 

 

Overall the entire 24-hour trip was a long awaited and thoroughly enjoyable one, once again reminding me that family reunions with the living or dead give meaning and purpose to life. 

 

Thanks to all who made this happen. 

 

 

Happy Ching Ming all. 🙏🏽