My Father (8 October 1924 - 5 September 2005)

My Beloved Father: Ni Tai Sen alias Tan Kim Chua

8 October 1924 (lunar calendar), China. My Father was born . He was the eldest sibling and he was known as Ni Tai Sen. He had 2 younger brothers and 2 younger sisters. My paternal grandfather (Ni Ging Ai) was 15 years old when he married my paternal grandmother (Nai Mei Ging) who was 16 years and had bored my father a year later.

28 November 1943 (lunar calendar) in a place called Siak Hua, in a town called Ket Yeo, in the province called Kwangtung. My Father married my mother at the age of 19. Mother was 17 years old. Father travelled to Malaysia to look for greener pasture a few years later while mother joined him after their first child was born and after Father had settled down in Kuching, Sarawak.

In Kuching, he adopted his guarantor as his Kuching foster father and took his surname. My father was known as Tan Kim Chua from then on.

In Kuching, Father worked as a gardener in a pepper plantation and Mother worked picking the seeds from the pepper vine trees. When my eldest sister was 5 years old she was also paid picking the pepper seeds that was dropped on the ground by the birds. Life was simple: working in the pepper plantation and home. They brought a land and built a small house but they did not live there long because Father started having pain in his leg. Friends believed that father and mother were not meant to settle down there. And so Father and Mother decided to move on to another place and so they went to Miri.

***** Mother told me this, only after Father had died: This happened in Kuching. My father saw a cheque in the garbage bin. He could not read nor understand English and he did not know the law relating to it but he knew it was a piece of paper that you could exchange cash at the bank. So he tried and was caught by the police. Mother was not yet in Kuching then. She was there with my sister (who was then a toddler) in her arms when dad was called to the court. Their appearance softened the judge's heart and he let my father free upon seeing my mum and sister as he realised that they are from China and that they were just simple innocent people trying to earn a living. Dad did not steal the cheque and furthermore the cheque could not be cashed because it is invalid. *****

20 February 1955, Miri. My Father found work as a boy in the Shell Rest house in Brighton, Miri, which is now the Miri Gymkhana Club while mother worked as a laundry maid. That is when I was born - the 3rd child (1955). Father's second child (my elder brother) was born in Kuching.

***** Mother said Father loved me the most because he was blessed with a job with Sarawak Shell Berhad the year I was borned. He said I brought him luck! His boss (a Chinese-Muslim) wanted to adopt me as he did not have any daughters but Mother would not give me away because I was an easy baby. *****

Thereafter father was employed by the Sarawak Shell Berhad as an operator in the power plant in Lutong, until he retired on the 7 October 1979. He worked on 3 different shifts. They were either in the morning, afternoon or night. He brought mother's prepared food and cycled to work.

Father could ride the motorcycle too. He had me in front of him when I was small and when I was bigger he had me behind him. I would put my little arms around his waist, buried my face against his back as he rode the motorbike from Lutong/Miri/Lutong to visit my Miri adopted grandparents or just going to the cinemas to watch movies that were opened to students, the Sound of Music, the Snow White, etc. Every time, he rode the motorbike to Miri by himself, he would come back with comics for me. He knew that would made me very happy. Miri is 7 miles from Lutong.

I used to sit on the kitchen floor to read comics, love stories, crime stories, etc. or study my school lessons, whenever the kitchen was free, regardless whether it is day or night All the other rooms in the house, except for the bathroom and kitchen floor are wooden and so it is cool to sit on the cement. Everyone else in the family were already sleeping and I would still be there, lost in my reading. Almost always I would read until I fell asleep on the floor. Dad would be the one who would carry me and put me to bed.

Because of the noise in the power plant that father worked in and not wearing the ear plug, his hearing was impaired as times goes. By the time he retired at the age of 55, we had to shout or else he would not be able to hear us. He has to turn the volume of the radio or the television high in order to hear. Towards the last few years of his mortal life, he could hardly hear what we shouted even. Subsequently it affected his verbal as well. Many times I could not understand what he said.

Dad wrote letters in Mandarin to his younger brother in China almost every year but towards the last few years he stopped writing. I wished I could write in Mandarin (I was educated in an English medium school) then I could have communicate with him via the written mode. The two letters I have written to him when I was in Kota Kinabalu (2000-2005), was written in Mandarin, by 2 good friends, translated from my written English version. In my last letter I had asked him to write down his story. I told him I want to keep it for remembrance, but unfortunately he never got around to doing it. Dad's handwritting is beautiful.

Dad was a happy-go-lucky person. He was contented with whatever is available. He liked to drink acohol and he liked to smoke as well. He liked to eat curry dishes and stewed pork leg. He was an adventurous man and he liked to travel. He travelled faithfully (either by air or by road) each year to visit his foster father in Kuching until he died. Father had travelled to Thailand as well - he said the women there are beautiful.

Father cycled from home early every morning to the Lutong town. On school days he would helped my youngest sister-in-law to open the family's stall that was outside the school. He would come back for lunch, had a nap and then cycled again to town. Family members urged him not to cycle out on the road anymore because the number of cars were increasing and it would be very dangerous for him as he could not hear the cars. Before he was admitted to the General Hospital on the 11 August, he had cycled to the stall early that morning. And that was the last time he cycled. He had left the bicycle at the stall and followed my sister-in-law to the hospital. One afternoon at the hospital, he kept asking to go back so that he could bring the bicycle back home - he remembered! Telling him not to worry and that it was already brought back did not calmed him down (he didn't believe me) until the nurse took the bicycle keys from him and told him that she would go and bring the bicycle back home for him. When she returned back the keys to him a few hours later and told (lied) him she has done so, was he then calmed.

Dad has been not eating much since the beginning of 2005. He did not feel like eating and if he ate it was only a few mouthful. Hesaid he was full. He was in the hospital from the 11 to the 18 August. His stomach was scanned, xrayed. An endroscopy was done on his stomach and specimens taken for laboratory test. The endroscopy showed that he had gastric ulcers. He was also diagnosed with swollen aorta. He didn't like being in the hospital and kept asking to go home. Because of his age, they said it was risky to operate but that his gastric ulcers could be healed and therefore was prescribed with a few medicines upon discharge. His appetite did not get any better at the hospital and it got worse at home. He refused food, drink and medicine. He never have any problem with medicine until then. I guess he was getting fed up of swallowing pills every so often day and night.

29 August 2005, 11:00 am. I asked Father whether he would like to go back to the hospital and he agreed. I was glad he agreed because he was really in a bad condition. We were helpless and we also did not want to force him to go unless he was willing. An ambulance came and carried him to the hospital. He was immediately put on drips. For food, a special milk formulae was administered through the tube. Father had high fever almost every day. The squashed panadol pills was mixed with liquid and administered through the tube as well.

Father started coughing after a few days. He was not able to spit/throw the muscus from his throat and so the nurses and the pysiotherapist helped by using the suction machine. It was very uncomfortable for Father and eventually he refused to open his mouth. The muscus instead absorbed back into the body. Xray of his chest showed that his lungs was affected. He was injected with antibiotics but it did not helped. He has not eaten any solid food. He was very weak. His immune system was weak too. By Saturday afternoon the doctors said my Father's condition was deteriorating and he was dying. We were told to call in the family members. He was given oxygen from then onwards.

Father looked so tired. However, when we visited him that evening he was able to open his eyes and smiled at us. He even acknowledged a good friend of mine, who had come to give him a blessing that night. Father was a Buddhist but he did not reject my friend who was a Christian. I felt my Father's hand relaxed in mine as the blessing as bestowed upon His head. It was as if he understood the words spoken (Dad did not understand English). It was words of God's love for him and that Heavenly Father was aware of his situation.

Father was a courageous man. One by one, his organs shut down. By Sunday evening he was almost lifeless except for the beating of his heart and occasional coughs. No sign of urine were excreted by Sunday evening. Noises of muscus in his lungs could be heard when I put my ears against his chest. His feet and hands started to swell. His toes stopped wriggling when his sole was tickled. His fingers stopped curling around my palm. He would have let go but his heart wouldn't because it was still pumping strongly. It was a healthy heart from the exercise he obtained through cycling all his years. I know his mind was strong too. He could have let go but he didn't until 8:30 am on Monday, 5 September. Dad had fight a good fight until the very end. Death certificate from the hospital showed that he died of bronchopneumonia due to prolonged immobilisation. Test results of the specimens from this stomach. which was sent to the laboratory on the 15 August, during his first admission (11-18 Augusgt) , came back on the day he died (5 September) showed signs of maligancy, metaplasia. The nurses said 'cancer'. Monday- 12 Septenber - a week after his death, I received a call from the hospital asking for my Father and said that they needed to see him because the biopsy of specimens from his stomach showed malignancy. I told him that He had already passed away!!!!

5 September 2005, 10:30 am. I sat next to my Father's lifeless body in a van (that belonged to a funeral service company that we have called to handle the funeral - the workers came and collected the body from the hospital mortuary). Dad was going back to his home in Lutong for the very last time. I saw my youngest brother and sister-in-law (they were the only family members there at that time) standing, waiting, as the van reversed through the opened gate towards the opened (there is no doors) garage.

Before my father's body was taken out of the van, I went into the house and chose clothes for him to wear. There were about 5 boxes and I have to buy him 1 box of clothes to change/wear. He was still wearing the hospital clothese. Each box had 7 pairs of Chinese costumes (suitable for the emperor) and they were made of satin. It was my duty as my Father's daughter to buy him the clothing to wear (my only sister is in Australia and so the responsibility falls solely on my shoulder). He would be dressed in 1 pair of shirt/trousers and the remaining 6 pairs placed in the coffin. I have to buy 2 blankets for him too.

As the men opened the back door of the van to retrieve my father's body, my youngest brother and sister-in-law and myself knelt to the ground. 2 long benches were stationed in the middle of the garage and my father's body was placed on top of them (the Chinese believed it is not a good omen to bring back a dead body into the house). They replaced the hospital clothes with the clothes that I have purchased . My 2 brothers, 2 sisters-in-laws and myself were given a strip of white coloured cloth to tie around our wrists while all the grandchildren had strips of blue cloured cloth tied around their wrists.

A table was set in front of his feett. 2 big red-coloured candles were lighted and placed on respective side of the table, while a pot of sand was placed in the middle of the table to hold all the joss sticks that were lighted. A photo-framed measuring about 1 square foot, with my Father's photograph, stood behind the pot of joss sticks. There was also a small kerosene lamp at the feet of the body, on the ground. We had to make sure that there is always 2 big red-coloured candles and the kerosene lamp burning continually until the corpse was buried. New red-coloured candles must be lighted to replace the old ones before they burned out and the kerosene in the lamp must always be available. They are believed to light the way for my Father to go to heaven. A duck head was placed in front of the body, on the ground . It was for the 'little ghost' so that it would not go for my Father.

Paper money must be burnt continuously until his burial as well, so that my Father could have continual supply of money as he made his journey to heaven. Mats were placed on both sides of the corpse, for us (and anybody else) to sit and watch the corpse from the time it was placed there until it is buried, and that means day and nght. There must always be someone there. Cats must be kept away at all times. The corpse would rise up if a cat jumps over it. It is believed that vampires come in the form of cats and they would take over the bodies of corpses. Glass windows, mirrors, pictures framed with glass were covered with white-coloured clothes, anything that reflects so that my father's spirit would not be able to see himself and be frightened. (I was wondering about those who are wearing spectacles like myself?) Red-coloured cloth cover shrines that were used for worshipping Gods. I don't really understand why - I was told that the white (the death of a person) will clash with the red (good).

People who came to pay their last respect would be given a strip of red coloured cloth to bring back. They could tied it anywhere they want, in their car, at their house gates. It is believed to drive way the evil spirit, from disturbing them. My mother told me to hang a piece of cloth at my staircase as well when I went home after the funeral. This reminded me of the story in the Old Testament that the Lord will pass over the houses that were painted with the animal's blood and their firstborn's life would be spared!!

6 September 2005. The Coffin was delivered. My father's body was removed from the benches by a few men while another group of men would place the coffin on the benches. Before they put in my Father's body into the coffin they laid a piece of green-coloured blanket at the bottom, placed bundles of paper money on the corners and sides of the coffin. After the body was placed in the coffin, another blanket, red-coloured, was placed on top of it. These were the 2 blankets that I have purchased yesterday. While all these were done, we (the children, children-in-laws and grandchildren) knelt down on the ground, from the time the coffin was carried from the truck until the red blanket was placed on top and the glass lid covered the body.

7 September 2005, morning. My brothers and sisters-in-law were given a piece of sack cloth, that we slipped over our head so that it fall in front and at the back of our body. We had to wear a piece of the sack cloth over our head too while my brothers have head bands made of sack cloth instead. My husband, being the son-in-law wore a white robe with a red cloth that run over his shoulder and diagonally down over his body in front and at the back. He wore a white turban as well. All the grandchildren had a piece of blue-coloured cloth tied around their waists and another piece around their heads, except for the eldest grandson who would wear similar to his father (my eldest brother). We would go sit around the body. When it was time to close the wooden cover on the coffin, all of us (the children, children-in-law and grandchildren) stood up and turned to our backs. It was believed that our shadows would risk being closed inside when we face the body while they are closing the coffin. Ultimately we may experience sickness, hardship, etc. Once the cover was securely nailed could we then turn and face the coffin.

7 September, 1:30 pm - Funeral service begun. Groups of different association burned the joss sticks and bowed their heads in front of the table, as a gesture of respect. The coffin was carried up the truck and the children/children-in-laws climbed in and sat around it. Friends would follow in a chartered bus. Father was buried in Riam cemetery. Again we have to turn our backs as the coffin was lowered into the ground as well. 5 plastic bags (garbage plastic size) of paper money was burnt near the tombstone. ******See the funeral in pictures in post entitled "Goodbye Dad, I will see you again"****** Arriving home from the funeral, the sack cloths that we wore, the blue coloured material around the children's waists were removed and kept to be burnt on the 11 September. Meanwhile we (sons, daughters-in-law) were given a piece of sack cloth measuring 1 sq. inch. to be pinned on the shoulder part of the white T-shirt while the grandchildren a piece of blue cloth. We were to wear this on our shoulders until the 11 September. The photo-framed of my Father was wrapped with a red cloth, only to be opened after the closing ceremony of the mourning period on the 11 September.

My eldest sister (the only sister) and family are living in Melbourne. They could not come to the funeral.

11 September 2005. It was the 7th day of my father's death. We had a ceremony to end the mourning period. Dad and Mum were both Buddhists and so were my other 2 remaining brothers (1 brother has gone over the veil in 1999). They have decided only to observe 1 week mourning. Some Chinese observe for 7 weeks. It depends on the family. You cannot wear red or yellow colored clothes, nor jewelry. You cannot watch television or hear radio and you don’t go to parties. Some people, especially the Buddhists, would shun visits from people who are mourning. And if you happened to be operating business, people don’t want to patronize you. They think it is unlucky to be associated with anyone who is mourning.

At 7:30 am, eal food and wine were offered to my father. They were placed on top of the table, outside the house in the open space. On the table were also, 2 big red candles and slim joss sticks burning. The funeral service company that we have called, had a man to guide us what to do. Mum is 79 years old. She and Dad came to Malaysia when they were in their 20s. Even though she does not understand the rituals she knows they must be performed and since she doesn’t know how, we have called in this funeral service company to assist for a certain fee. Each family (starting from the eldest son)(except my mum) would take turn bowing down their heads 3 times in front of the table, then pour a little wine onto the 3 little bowls and then called out Father to drink. After that, offerings (all made of paper) of money, car, chauffeur, butler, maid, briefcase were piled on an open ground nearby. We placed all the mourning clothes that was worn at the funeral, on the 7 September, and the pieces of sack and blue cloth from our shoulders on top of the offerings. The pile was was then lighted and burnt. With that ends the mourning period. My eldest brother and my youngest sister-in-law will resume their business tomorrow. Life continues. We can now wear any colored clothes, etc. etc.

I know my dad loves me very much and although I wish he didn’t have to go yet, I am glad he did not have to suffer any longer in this mortal world. The cancer would have killed him even if the pneumonia didn’t.

Come evening at 6:30 pm at Mum's place. It was after dinner and all of my 2 brothers' families were present. A small bird flew through the main door into the sitting room. It flew around the room. It only went out when we opened the window panes big enough for it to fly out and it landed on top of the family business van. I told Mother that the bird's head is quite bald. After it left, mum said that it was Dad coming back to visit. Dad was quite bald.

Daddy, I love you. Though you are not here physically, you are here in my heart forever.