A Tribute to our Patriarch.
Gan Peng Chew @ Gan Yam - b.20 December 1912 d.Feb 2006
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| Abu & Papa |
He was born on 20 December 1912, the eldest son of Gan Swee,- Kapitan China of Johol and his first wife.
Papa had a lot of growing up to do in a household that was fast expanding with siblings, first from his own mother- a Nyonya from Simpang Ampat Melaka, then from his father's second wife- a demure young lady with bound-feet from China. Grandfather was working hard around the clock to expand his newly established empire inside and outside his home in Johol.
By 1919, he had proudly erected his sturdy home in two shop lots on Main Street by Chettiar builders. It was later annexed by the Japanese as their HQ during the occupation. Grandfather had a reputation for being a Japanese sympathiser although one of his sons, our fourth uncle was accused of being a Communist and executed. Nevertheless, the Gan household continued to grow to accommodate 14 sons and 13 daughters from two wives.
Papa being the eldest heir, was sent to school to study English and Chinese in nearby Kuala Pilah. This was part of an elaborate plan to equip him to helm the Union Bus Co. started by grandfather.
Before that, this suitable boy had to be paired with a suitable wife.
Whether known or unbeknown to him, Papa had already been paired with a certain young lady in Simpang Ampat named Chin Kim. She was the third daughter of plantation tycoon Mr. Chin Poh who was good buddies with Mr. Gan Swee when they both started out as young lads off the boat from China.
They were so close that they married sisters and pledged their first borns to each other for marriage. Ostensibly to keep the wealth of the families within the clans. The Gan's first born, a female was betrothed to the Chin's first born a male. Therefore the Gan's first born male, a third, was matched with the Chin's third born which was the first female. Both of them were of somewhat similar age with a year or two in gap.
Papa was blissfully wedded to our dear Abu- Madam Chin Kim, a fine woman of Nyonya heritage.
She was a one-woman demolition team. In that she demolished all or any task set before her with great efficiency and tenacity. There was practically nothing she couldn't do. Being a Nyonya, the first order of proficiency was prowess in the kitchen. That she did extremely well clad in her sarong kebaya.
The kitchen, in our extensive colonial Dutch homestead spread over almost an acre of land on the fringes of Tampin town, was purpose built for serious heavy duty firewood cooking. It was constructed as an annex to the main living quarters, which was an elaborate wooden structure housing four huge bedrooms, two separate bathrooms on each wing, an enclosed inner living room serving as inner foyer for the bedrooms and an extended outer living room fringed with french windows and wooden trellises on the front and sides. The outer living room, for receiving guests was the least used area, as it leads to the front of the house ending with concrete stairs that slope to the front gardens leading down to the narrow front metal gate leading further down by steep narrow stairs to the main trunk road below.
Did I mention that the entire house sits on thick concrete stilts? Except for the kitchen annex and the broad verandah that connects the kitchen, the store rooms and bathroom complex with the main house. Yes it does and by design, it leaves a delightful underbelly retreat for the kids, dogs and other animals to play or take refuge for whatever reason, whatever time of day or year. Especially our seven dogs. Plus it's a nifty place to store our coconuts when they fall from our numerous trees surrounding the compound.
The 'main entrance' to our house is actually from the rear. A pair of heavy iron gates guard the entrance from unwanted visitors mainly cattle and goats who usually meet their unfortunate end if they should wander into our compound. Our Alsations are killers by instinct. Even human visitors who are welcome get an unfriendly reception from our dogs who are beautiful and handsome creatures but highly unpredictable.The only person they are afraid of is, you guessed it, Abu. And why might that be, you might venture to ask? Well, it's because our Abu is also our resident Veterinarian. She not only concocts the herbal remedies to heal wounds- animal, poultry or human, but she has the most dangerous task of administering the medicine to the wounded animal as well. No one else can or will do it. Picture five adult sized male alsations and two smaller females. The alpha male is the much dreaded and feared all black, pure bred, aptly named- Congo. He is thankfully balanced by the ever gentle and loving female matriach- Poppy, who bore him most of the litter. They all live happily under the main house.
Whenever Papa comes home from work, he would nudge the iron gates open with the nose of his Simca. As is the usual modus operandi, to avoid running up and down opening the gates for father, we would agree to lightly latch the iron gates such that they will fling open on a gentle nudge from the chrome bumper of his unique French 4-door saloon Simca Aronde Etoile. The car would slowly descent from the tarred road down the gentle gravel slope to a clearing fronting the adjoining verandah between the kitchen area and the main house. The verandah is a long broad covered walkway that slopes off length wise to large cemented courtyards on both sides, that we use for sunning our clothes, fruits, and food. This strip of real estate is where we spend most of our time. Papa would perch himself on his favourite chair at the kitchen end just to be near where Abu is- the kitchen. Stripped to his sarong and his pagoda wife-beater, he would while most afternoons away chatting with his wife while she's busying herself making kueh for tea. Most times it'll be goreng pisang and keledek or steamed kueh bakul topped with freshly grated coconut. We all loved her for her endless culinary creations, all for Papa who would never allow her to leave home, even to the market but he will cart all sorts of meat and vegetables home for her to display her cooking repertoire. We would eagerly wait to see what Abu would conjure from her kitchen and we were never disappointed.
Even though Papa was the General Manager of the bus company grandfather founded, he never was the 9 to 5 type. He is seldom found in his office but likely at the workshops, spare parts shops, in the work places chatting with people, building relationships or making friends. He had the gift of the gab. fluent in 7 languages they say, more gifted than Bond even more deadly. He wrestled an armadillo in the dead of the night while driving home from Johol, bundled it with the shirt off his back, swiftly into the boot of his Simca. I sat confused and confounded amidst the commotion soundly in the car.
Papa was always on the move. At times, I remember seeing him getting in and out of his car several times a day, descending and ascending the gravel driveway to and from the 'main entrance' of our home. He'd be either unloading grocery for us or loading goods for the old folks at the welfare home he has been tasked to look after for many years. Otherwise he would love to drive long distance to Seremban or Malacca. Most times it's to meet people or to procure parts for the bus company and occasionally he'd take Abu on our family joy rides to visit her sisters and for doctors' appointments in both these places. It was on these trips that we get to enjoy the exciting array of delicious food that these ancient towns had to offer. And Papa knew where all the best eating places were. From the original mobile satay seller who operates under the angsana trees in front of the A'Formosa in Malacca to the beef brisket noodles stall situated deep in the wet market of Seremban town, we have sampled them all. Papa Gan was the original foodie. He even introduced me to Bak Kut Teh in KL back when I wasn't even ready for KL. But one is always ready for BKT.
Apparently Papa's sphere of influence as a transportation man as well as foodie spread far and wide. During the 1950's and 1960's, startup bus companies relied on close cooperation and collaboration to keep each others fleets running smoothly. Whether in procuring new or used buses or spare parts, Papa's contacts stretched nationwide including Singapore as well as parts in the north.
Coming from such high standards of culinary exposure both from home and outside, we were taught to appreciate food, not just good tasting food but simple food cooked with heart will always have the umami factor.
Abu's kitchen was no longer wood-fired but gas. She continued to perform fabulously in the kitchen as well as her small garden tending to her favourite flowers mainly bougainvillas and orchids. Never requiring rest she seems determined to fill her waking hours with worthwhile work or chores once her duties of devoting herself to Papa was done. Papa realises that, counts his blessings, and tries his best to be a loving husband. It was easy to see that Papa loves Abu very much even though he's overly fussy and self absorbed at times.
However when the 80's rolled along, Abu fell ill and succumbed to her illness after bitter battles in oncology wards of hospitals in Malacca and KL. She passed away peacefully among family at home in August of 1986.
Broken hearted and alone, Papa stayed on in Woon Estate in a home full of pleasant memories. The children have all flown the coop and settled down to their careers or forging ahead to build one.
Having just left the bank job Papa got me, still in my early twenties, I was finding my way in the world of advertising. Relatively single, available and living alone I coaxed Papa into spending time with me in KL. I assured him that he was free to come and go as he pleased.
Powered by his trusty chariot, a white Datsun120Y-NK388, he was virtually a free man plying between Johol, Tampin and KL doing whatever he pleases. I think he loved the bustle of KL most, being the 'young' and adventurous type. I would be mostly absent, being entangled in my own life and career adventures, save for weekends. He would roam the neighbourhood where we lived and the streets of KL looking for food or companionship. He found both in abundance and more. He found his third wife. With great strategy and dexterity, he knew he needed someone to spend his time with at the same time, he'd be needing a companion to care for him as the years advances. So he found and courted an unmarried lady twenty-eight years younger than him. He promptly married her in a private ceremony he planned with her without any of his children's involvement. We didn't take his marriage to her very kindly. Perhaps because we loved the memory of Abu too much to call another woman 'Mother' so we called her 'Aunty'.
He seemed to have found happiness and a reason to live again. With his new wife, Papa roamed the country from Kampar in the north to Johol in the south and everywhere else in between. Later the happy couple travelled the world with friends on guided tours as well as guests to my sister and her family who lived overseas. Life was good.
Grandchildren came early for both Papa and Abu. Their only child, our eldest sister, delivered two pairs of boys and girls in quick succession. Then second eldest sister who was adopted, delivered two girls and a boy. Our older brother and his wife made them fuss and delight over a pair of lovely children soon after their marriage. The first a boy to carry the family name forward. Then came my children also in relative quick succession- boy, boy, girl. Followed by our baby sister with an adorable little girl bringing up the rear of this generation.
Papa and his wife were housed close to my family, saw our children often and our children got to spend quality time with their grandparents.
The years flew by, the children got older and bigger, the adults got older and more stressed and the elder got Alzheimer's and lost. Papa loved driving and one day he got lost driving his Datsun 120Y somewhere in KL. We were frantic not knowing what to do. We even got a radio station to broadcast his car make and number and to contact us if spotted but to no avail. Luckily he stopped and stumbled into someone's house in the middle of nowhere asking for directions. The good samaritan got in touch with us and we promptly retrieved him. From then onwards we placed a lost & found card in his shirt pocket every time he went out but more importantly he could only go out with his wife. Even though he never got lost again, things became worse for his handlers, especially his wife. He would lose track of time and insist on going out at anytime of the day or night. Papa seldom takes no for an answer. Aunty took the brunt of it all, took the responsibilities faithfully and sometimes the blows from his walking stick. But the silver lining behind this affliction was that he also forgot about his illnesses. He used to suffer from gout and a mild cancer of the kidney, they all went away when Alzheimer's came. And he continued to live a relatively robust life.
Until his grandson got sick. A pall of dark cloud seem to hang over the family when Jon was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour. Papa was most distressed and even lucid. They were both very close to each other often spending time chatting about things. In a quiet moment shared with me, he confided that he would gladly give up his life in exchange for Jon's recovery. After his birthday in December and on the days leading up to Chinese New Year in 2006, Papa's health had deteriorated. He could barely sit up at our CNY reunion dinner table at home but he was present nonetheless. It was to be his last with us, and he left us on the seventh day of CNY. He went down, fighting a bleeding ulcer, at the emergency room of the KLGH. Even in his last moments, Papa's zest for life was insatiable. He refused to go quietly into the night but fought tooth and nail to hang onto a life well lived.
Happy Birthday Pa.
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