My Iban Grandmother, Sumba Anak Mangku. (1939 – 2010)

Lately I have been remembering my late grandparents often. I tried to remember how they spoke and they things they spoke about. It is easy to remember my Ah Ma and Akong's (Chinese grandparents) because we lived next to them for so many years. Remembering my Ine, especially the sound of her voice is a bit harder because we saw less of her ...yet thinking about her brings out all these emotions; sadness, joy, humour, humility, kindness...I wish I have more memories of her.  For now, this is my last memory of her:
 
Despite being a rich and fertile land, Sarawak have places like Kampung Entanggor. Villages without road access, electricity and medical care. All basic living necessities. When we visited in May 2007, the people timidly asked how do we live under the opposition in Penang? They fear what the current leaders would do if they voted against them therefore repeatedly voting for a system that is dysfunctional. Their native land is being raped for profit whilst the indigenous people live a never ending cycle of poverty, non-development and lack of other basic human rights.

I saw my late Ine (grandmother in Iban) slowly leaving this world because she was denied basic medical and health care. The flying doctors couldn't come if the weather was bad and to make things worse, provided below average medical attention. I was told the "doctor" (possibly a male-nurse) stuck his head in, looked at my grandma and said "continue what ever you're doing..." He did not even bother to check on her condition and medication. How sad is that?

My grandmother was this super sweet jolly lady who in late 2008 suffered a stroke. Due to her love for her native land she and my grandfather opted to return to the longhouse to recover. If any of you have met my grandmother, you would remember her as the most humble, kind and simple woman. She asked for nothing but gave everything that she had, which were her love, humour and kindness.

Due to the lack of facilities, she slowly became weaker and quieter but you can still see the sparkle in her eyes and hear her laughter even for the smallest thing. She couldn't walk anymore but can still sit up and chat with her families and friends. When my mother visited her mother in May 2009, she said that Ine was doing well considering the situation. My Aunt was taking very good care of her and the only problem was her cholesterol level was a bit high. My mother was also concerned for the lack of medical assistants, should there be an emergency.

Then in June 2010, I saw my grandmother for the last time. By now, she was all bones and skin but still had a sparkle in her eyes. Shockingly, she was still taking medication to reduce her cholesterol. Logically the medication was for a person with access cholesterol and weight which she had a year ago. My mother and I decided to call a doctor in west Malaysia. I walked 15 minutes away from the long house to secure a stable line and called my friend. She immediately told me to stop medication because what she needed was fat in her body to recover and regenerate. My grandmother passed away 25 July 2010, she never recovered. 

What are we doing to ensure quality of life for people living in our country regardless of distance, education and ethnicity? 

This is in memory of my beautiful grandmother, Sumba Anak Mangku. (1939 – 2010)

Ine's cat...sweet fellow. He stayed by Ine's side till the very end.

The Boy by the Window

Eric has never eaten at T.G.I Fridays and I have only eaten there once. About 8 years ago. I was not extremely impressed because I thought the food was rather predictable and definitely on the pricey side. The wait staff wearing jester hats shouting 'happy birthday' didn't help either.

So after years and years of Eric lamenting on missing "real" American food, we headed to T.G.I Fridays at the newly opened Paradigm Mall. It was also an excuse to check out the new mall (like people in PJ really need another mall).  It was a Saturday but luckily there was a seat for two by the window on the inside of the restaurant. We took our time reading the menu and finally decided on our order. That was when a family with four young children sat right next to us on the outside. We were separated by the glass window but it was weird trying to ignore each other. So I just smiled at the mom who was trying to feed her baby while keeping an eye on her other children. She smiled back. The dad and their friend were busy talking.   

Soon, the drinks arrived. We casually talked about this and that. Trying very hard to ignore the children playing next to us. After some time, our food arrived. We immediately dig in. As predicted it was okay only. Suddenly, I realized that one of the children, a boy about 7 years old was plastered on the glass window staring into Eric's BBQ Chicken, his mouth gaping and breathing so heavily that vapor formed around it. I laughed like mad at the sight. The child saw the humor and laughed too but was taken away by the embarrassed dad. 

I asked/told Eric, " hon, wasn't that funny?"

"Okay la. That's why I hate sitting by the window" he replied. 

I was surprised by his remark but with him you just never know what to expect. 

"What?! What do you mean okay? That was sooooo funny... even the kid laughed" I answered.

Silence. 

"It reminded me of KFC in Komtar..." he finally answered. 

I was completely lost and had no clue what he was talking about until he reminded me of something I tried to forget from years ago.  

Many years ago, Komtar was the tallest building in Penang with the best shopping and entertainment possibilities. It was in the heart of Penang. Sadly it had one sad feature that Penangites either try to ignore or forget. The children-beggars who roam Komtar asking shoppers and tourists for money. I do not know who these children were, where they came from or if they had families but I remembered they were between five to twelve years old. My parents took this as a teachable moment to remind us to thank God for our good fortunes and also pray for the misfortunes of others. 

Eric told me about his story with these children. He was about nine years old when his family went to Komtar for a fun day of shopping. They ended the day with a yummy meal at KFC. They took a seat by the window with shoppers casually walking by on the outside and just as he was about to take his first bite, Eric saw a tiny face pressed against the glass. This boy who was about nine years old fixed his eyes on the food and was breathing so hard that vapor formed.  He had a look of sadness in his eyes. Eric asked his parents why was this boy alone. They replied that he has no family. 

Eric told me that he remembers crying and feeling so sad because he didn't understand why the boy was alone.

Even from such a young age Eric has a gentle soul. Always kind and considerate. Now a grown man, he looked away from the window trying to suppress that same feeling again. I felt so sad for him but know exactly what he meant. Once, I saw the children running helter-skelter from a man (whom I presume was a plain cloth policeman) because they were becoming a problem for the management of Komtar.

Our dinner at T.G.I Fridays ended with both of us crying wondering what had happened to those children.  Next to us, a girl was standing on a chair while the jesters/wait staff and her friends sing happy birthday to her. 

We made a pinkie promise to return to T.G.I Fridays only after 10 years and sit at the bar the next time. 

Our Sad meal the TGIF.

  

Love in Borneo- Ine Mila and Aki Puti

Growing up, I believed that families only had one set of parents; the main breadwinner (usually the father) and a mother, the stay at home parent.  I do not remember having grandparents around until we moved to Penang Island.  That was when it hit me that some people were raised by their grandparents.  Well, as the years rolled by I come to realized that for many their grandparents were their parents because of the sacrifices and commitment put by these care-givers.  Which made me think, how often do you hear stories about your grandparents?  How did they survive the Japanese invasion and World War 2? Or what were they doing when Malaya was declared independent? 

This is a of story of my Iban ancestors.  My great-grandparents to be exact.  They became man and wife, deep in the jungle of Borneo before World War 2 in the 1920's.  Wait a minute! Was it that simple?  Obviously not. 

A quick history lesson:  The Iban or Sea Dayaks were known for their excellent hunting skills and territorial expansions.  More importantly, they were feared for their (past) practice of headhunting which was outlawed long before WW2, some said during the time of Rajah Brooke.  (My family comes from a line of headhunters.  But more about this in another post.)  They (the Ibans) lived off the fertile land by planting crops, collecting jungle produce, hunting wild animals and fishing in the river.  They occasionally moved to other territories when there was a need but most of the time, they simply extended their territory by means of clearing out the jungle and claiming their land.  This calls for the men to travel or bejalai and seek out their fortunes. 

My great-grandfather or Aki Puti was around 16 or 17 years old when he went bejalai.  He came from the Skrang area and was an excellent hunter, was hardworking, brave and strong.  Great husband and son-in-law material since people lived in the jungle surrounded by wild animals and possible invaders.  It also didn't hurt that Aki Puti was also very good looking (tall, masculine with beautiful traditional warrior's tattoo markings, says my mom).  At that time people didn't date. They were "recommended" or "suggested", something like an arranged marriage but with more freedom.  Aki Puti was at the perfect age for marriage but to whom?

While on of his journey, Aki Puti stopped at Kampung Entanggor at the Simunjan area. There he met my great-grandmother's family.  They were four daughters in that house between the ages of 13 - 18. All of them were taken by his quiet gentle demeanor. My great-great-grandmother immediately suggested that Aki Puti would be a perfect match for their youngest daughter. She was beautiful, skilled at fine traditional Iban handicraft and at 13 years old a perfect age for marriage.  Upon the insistent of the elders and agreement between the two parties, they were married and immediately set up home in Kampung Entanggor.  

Sadly, Aki Puti's young bride did not see past her 14th birthday. She passed away exactly one month after getting married due to a mysterious illness. The whole rumah panjai mourn for their loss.  They were especially sorry for Aki Puti who was now all alone mourning the loss of his dear wife.  As per tradition, Aki Puti who has lost his wife must immediately return to his own village. He no longer has family connections there, therefore was not obligated to stay.  His in-laws (even though still in mourning) started making plans for his departure because he refused to talk about leaving. He insisted on staying, claiming that his heart belonged here. They were touched at first but finally decided that a man his age must leave for a fresh start.  They repeatedly reminded him to leave. He refused. Their patience grew thin. 

Finally, my great-great-grandmother had enough.  With rage she started throwing his things out the ruai demanding him to leave. She said that he was breaking adat and that her family cannot be happy again if he does not follow tradition.  Aki Puti was begging her to let him stay. He wanted to be with his love.  This was when my great-great-grandmother realized that her second daughter, Mila was also crying and begging her to let him stay. You see, Aki Puti and his sister-in-law had fallen in love. They found comfort in each other when he lost his wife and she lost her sister. Mila was never considered a suitable wife for Aki Puti because she was older at 16 years old and was considered less beautiful. 

The family was furious. They felt it it was disrespectful to the dead and on top of that an unconventional relationship. What happened next was a blur. Not many people can recall who said what and to who, but according to my mother and other elders in the family, Aki Puti and Mila were finally allowed to be together; on the condition that they lived away from the longhouse. They choose to build a house in the village and it was only a few years later that they were accepted back into the family. They lived a long and happy life with many children and grandchildren. 

And that was how Mila became my Ine Mila. My great-grandmother. 

These are the only pictures we have of our great-grandparents. 
Right-Ine Mila, Left-Aki Puti.

Key words: 
Puti - my great-grandfather's name
Mila - my great-grandmother's name
aki - grandfather 
ine - grandmother
bejalai - travel
ruai - balcony
rumah panjai - traditional Iban longhouse
Kampung (village) Entanggor - my mother's village
Skrang - my great-grandfather's area of origin
adat - tradition

My Version of Kimbap

For those who are not familiar with Korean food, Kimbap is another version of the very very popular Japanese sushi. In Malaysia, all things Korean are at their hype of popularity now. K-Pop and very slow dramatic series grace our TV stations while slowing pulling in normal people into a state of trance. Some of my close family members, whom I shall not name, dedicate hours watching Korean DVDs even though they know at the very beginning how it will end. Ahem...YX's mama. The weird thing is, whenever Eric and I go back for the weekend we are also swept into that world. What is it that makes Korea so appealing?

I saw this half way with my sister but had to leave abruptly. She would not lend me her DVD , so she gave me the summary of the story in 2 minutes. Interesting...

Eric is all about their speed and efficiency. My brother and his girlfriend are all about the cute girl bands. My sister: XY's mama (no explanation needed). My papa watches whatever mama watches :).  My mama and I, well, it's all about the food. Mama has even perfected her skill in making the perfect Kimchi. (She makes batches for me to take home, yum!) Not bad right for an Iban woman born in the long house? 

One TV program I really enjoyed watching was Kimchi Chronicles which was recently aired on Astro. What makes that show interesting was the host's journey of discovering Korea through food and culture. Her season finale was especially nice as it was a reflection of her identify and what it means to be of mix heritage in the world today. 

In celebration of my mix heritage...I made Kimbap. Not an obvious link but it represents the people in my life and how we all taste SO GOOD. 

A really healthy meal (the secret to be a slim Korean girl!)

Did I also tell you it was my first time making Kimbap?

The Charmed Life

It took me a really long time to decide on a name for this blog. Mainly because I was confused on the direction. I wanted to write about the books I loved reading, food Eric and I indulge in, people I meet on the streets, random thoughts but most importantly, I wanted something that can sum up what I truly care about...my Iban heritage.

Growing up, we were truly aware of our mix heritage. Red packets for Chinese New Year, savory Chinese dishes, loud Hokkein speaking grandparents. Normal right, for a Chinese family living in Penang Island...well not really. You see, ever so often we will take these week long holidays to Sarawak. Not just Kuching town but deep into the interior. Where the night sky is so black that the stars appear brighter. Where it is normal to swim in the river wearing a sarong and not be shy about it. And where we feel so Iban that it's comfortable.

I cannot promise that I will only write about all things Iban because I am still half Chinese married to an Indian. Living in the city. But I can promise that this will be a charming journey.

Sunset at Entanggor