One morning, without any prompting, my mum recalled her wedding and her early married life in Kuala Ketil estate in Kedah. She, who is always late and on a catch up mode, despite being up between 5-5.30 am every morning, was rather relaxed and in a chatty mood. Information was spewing out of her. Naturally, I lapped it up as this doesn’t happen often. And, never in the morning. Happily, I cheer-led my mum into telling me more. 

Apparently, my parents had an extravagant wedding.  A three-day celebration in 1948. All were invited from near and far. Marquees or tents were erected. Food and drinks were aplenty. A tad over the top, she recalled. Particularly as neither my dad nor his parents were overly wealthy. My paternal grandparents owned a sundry shop, which might have been a big deal then. Or they may have had savings. My dad worked as a clerk at the estate, which might also have been a big deal then. Or he may have had savings. My dad studied at Penang Free School, the oldest English-medium school in Southeast Asia. Wrote and spoke English. And, worked for the then British owners/managers of the rubber estate. Hmm…

At 15, my mum was a child bride. Too young to be married, and too young to realize the responsibilities of a wife. Plus, she was a townie from Butterworth. Married life, and life in the estate was different and difficult. No electricity. Only gas lights. Ouch. No indoor plumbing. Water was sourced from wells and roadside taps. Ouch. My mum is a certified water baby. She is usually in one of two places in her condominium.  At the altar, in her wing chair, praying and/or sleeping. Alternatively, in the bathroom. I’m not sure how she coped without copious amounts of water, and gratefully, neither does she. Too many in-laws to content with, and too many mouths to feed under one roof. My dad had eight unmarried younger siblings. Ouch. My poor young mum ended up assisting her mum-in-law in the kitchen. Ouch again.

I asked. My mum couldn’t quite recollect why she didn’t object. Not to marrying my dad but to marriage in general at such a young age. Particularly as she enjoyed school. Seven children, nine grandchildren, and three great grandchildren with one little one on the way, it didn’t matter. To her, they were but distant memories. Good and bad. She did, however, recollect, as her face lit up; words, moments, people and even a verse from the estate days.

Check-roll was one. Each morning, a check-roll or roll-call took place outside my mum’s new marital home. My dad was also in charge of workers’ attendance and job allocation. Despite the manual nature of the jobs like clearing, digging and collecting rubbish and debris, equal opportunity prevailed as women were well represented. Not too sure about equal pay though. Trending names for women at the time was Muniamma. Usually there were three to four Muniammas. Hence, they were referred to as Muniamma 1, 2, 3 and/or 4. My mum viewed check-roll like assembly at school but for adults.

The other was how children sang verses about one particular English man with unkempt hair. He worked at the estate and drove his car up and down the road each day. Why? She didn’t know but every time he did children would recite the following, “Tala viricha. Tamka adicha. Matha kuila mani adicha. Or “Wild hair. Beat the drum. Ring the temple bells.” Obviously, my translation is lost in translation. The verses rhyme in Tamil, the only language the children spoke. They had a laugh while the English man remained oblivious.

My mum also remembered how her mum-in-law/my grandmother kept her books plainly on the wall. She knew who, what was bought and how much was owed to her. Her system was simply drawing lines and crossing them off on items purchased at the sundry shop that she helped manage with my grandfather. Transparency, yes. What about wall space?

As for the highlights of living on the estate, number one was visits to the family home and family in Butterworth. Followed by monthly movie screenings by a company called Travel Agency. It used one side of its bus to double up as a movie screen, much to the pleasure of the entertainment deprived estate community. Third was the occasional movie outings with my dad to Sungai Petani, the nearest town that had a cinema.

After a few years, my mum and dad sought greener pastures away from the estate. My dad got a job with the police force. Which required my parents to move to a few different districts and towns in Kedah state (a story for another day). The family gradually grew. And, Alor Setar became home for a very long time.