He was an orphan again. At the insistence of Baba Wee and Tua Neo, he moved into Wee Mansion. But he was neither elated nor saddened at the turn of events. If he was fated to remain an orphan, so be it. If he had to live in a new land by his wits and skills, then he would be alert and learn.
Three days after he moved in, Baba Wee hosted a grand dinner for two hundred guests, the members of the White Crane who had fought off the Hakka mob in Temple Street.
“Friends and brothers, by your courage and prowess, you have upheld the name of the White Crane! I drink to your honour!”
The men rose from their seats and yelled in unison, “Yam seng!”
Servants went round the tables to refill the empty glasses with more brandy.
“Friends and brothers of the White Crane! I would not be standing here tonight if it weren’t for this brave young man beside me. He is the adopted son of my son-in-law, Tai-kor Wong, and so he’s my adopted grandson. Brothers of the White Crane! For those of you who don’t know him, allow me to introduce my adopted grandson, Wong Tuck Heng!”
Tai-kor Wong’s wife made it clear that she would have as little as possible to do with Tuck Heng. He shrugged off her dislike and tried his best to fit into his new family. But that wasn’t easy to do. The family was large and unhappy. There were many things which he, as a newcomer, was just beginning to discover. He had to learn a new dialect, Hokkien, to understand what they said to him. Before long he noticed that Tua Neo took a perverse pleasure in using him to taunt her stepdaughter. Siok Ching’s face grew dark with suppressed anger whenever Tua Neo sang his praises.
Three months later, when the durian season arrived, he discovered even more things. The season brought hot dry days and huge quantities of a thorny pungent fruit from the orchards and jungles in the outlying areas of Penang island. Nobody, it seemed, not even the British governor or the newly appointed British Resident of Perak, could displace this king of tropical fruits, and during the season of its reign, everyone rejoiced and revelled in the consumption of the rich ambrosial fruit of the gods.
In the Wee household, masters and servants alike craved the fruit. Being the “new guest from China”, as he was known among the Wee relations, he had not the faintest notion what all the fuss was about.
“It’s like a drug, as potent as opium. The more you eat, the more you want. Some Malays claim that the best durian is found in elephant dung. The elephant knows how to pick the best fruit. It swallows the durian, thorns and all, and it comes out whole. So the fruit inside the shell is clean. Now that type of durian is prized by the Malay rajas.”
Unfamiliar with the ways of these Straits-born Chinese, he was not quite sure whether they were pulling his leg. He had always known the lychee was supreme. The fruit was prized by the Chinese emperors, praised by the poets and immortalised by the artists. But wisely he kept such thoughts to himself and did not seek to contradict his new relatives.
The Malay gardeners in the Wee mansion claimed that the wild jungle durians were superior to the cultivated variety in Baba Wee’s orchard. One evening they slipped away, and at dawn returned with a sackful of durians picked from trees that grew to a height of twenty feet or more in the jungles around Penang Hill. Their young masters paid a handsome sum for these durians and had them brought into the men’s wing secretly so they could feast on the wild fruit without insulting their grandfather, who claimed that his orchard produced the best durians on the island. Swearing him to silence, these grandchildren and grandnephews inducted him into the pleasures of the durian feast behind locked doors and closed windows.
“So the smell won’t go outside. If Grandfather knows, he’ll be so angry.”
“Eat up, Chinaman. Durian will help you speak Malay. Even a little English if you’re smart.”
Boon Leong and Boon Haw collapsed onto their bed, howling with laughter. He detested those two stuck-up little asses.
“Papa said he’s our brother,” Boon Pin reminded them.
“Brother, my foot!”
“Shut up, Boon Leong! Let Tuck Heng eat!” An older cousin cuffed him on the head. Boon Leong made a face.
“Pumpkin head!” he hissed.
The next day, Baba Wee held a durian feast for the family in their holiday bungalow in Ayer Itam.
“Eat, Tuck Heng! Everybody loves it! Except the Englishmen. Their tongues are too blunt and their noses too stupid!”
Hoots of laughter greeted his remark. The family was seated in a circle on the floor of their spacious verandah. A pile of the thorny fruit was in the middle of the circle and the men of the family were prying them open with knives.
Tuck Heng scooped a yellow fruit out of its thorny shell.
“Use your fingers. Like this! Don’t dirty your palm or else Grandmama will scold you.” Little Boon Pin instructed him in the art of eating the creamy fruit.
“Like this?” He took a bite. Then, breaking into a boyish grin, he declared, “Very good! Very tasty!”
“Grandmama, look! Tuck Heng Kor is eating his durian!” Boon Pin called out to Tua Neo.
“First time eating, and he likes it!”
The boys howled, “Yah, yah! The very first time!”
Tua Neo smiled indulgently at her grandsons.
“Tuck Heng likes durian! That means he’ll stay here. All the China-born who like durians don’t go back to China.”
“Mak, how can you be so sure?” Siok Ching carefully scooped another yellow fruit out of its thorny shell. “Most China-born want to return to China when they grow old.”
She glanced at her husband, seated opposite, but Tai-kor Wong said nothing, intent only on helping Boon Leong pry open another durian.
“Papa, are you going to China?” Boon Leong asked.
“Your father will return to China. But only for a visit. And Siok Ching, you can go with him. Right, Son-in-law?”
“Right after I’ve made my fortune. Let me see to the opening of the new mines first.”
The family elders nodded approvingly and Baba Wee looked pleased.
Tuck Heng followed the conversation of the adults with great interest. His mastery of Penang Hokkien had improved and he could understand all that he heard around him. And more. Because he could hardly speak the dialect, he was forced to look more closely at gestures and facial expressions. He saw more than was revealed in speech and came to know more about the unhappiness around him. Being sharp and knowing, he valued this information which seemed to give him a sense of power. Baba Wee’s daughters-in-law were unhappy about their husbands’ pursuits outside the home, the gambling dens they frequented, the debts they accumulated and the prostitutes they kept as mistresses. They feared that if their husbands’ gambling habits and sexual peccadilloes were made known to Baba Wee, the stern patriarch might disinherit them. So they tried to cover up their own husbands’ misdeeds by revealing those of other people’s husbands. This led to much bickering and squabbling in the women’s quarters.
His self-assurance grew as his knowledge of the household expanded. But he kept his thoughts and discoveries to himself. He confided in no one and made himself useful to everyone, especially to Tua Neo, the one with the most influence in the house. He impressed the old lady with his knowledge of the Three-Character Classic and Four-Character Classic. Being illiterate, Tua Neo did not realise that these were mere primers for children and she often called upon him to recite these in front of her friends, Nonya ladies just as illiterate as herself. Sometimes he was asked to recite them to her grandsons, most of whom were enrolled in St Xavier’s, the Christian Brothers’ school. These boys scoffed at his learning. “Chinaman!” They stuck out their tongues at him as soon as their grandmother had left the room.
He went out of his way to be useful to Siok Ching, the one most threatened by his presence, and Boon Pin, her youngest son. Without prompting from anyone, six-year-old Boon Pin had addressed him as Kor, Elder Brother, much to his mother’s chagrin. After that, Boon Leong and Boon Haw were forced to address him as Kor too.
“Boon Leong, take a fruit from this shell here and give it to Tuck Heng. A bit overripe, but it’s not heaty.”
“Mak, please eat it yourself. Tuck Heng has more than enough.” Siok Ching masked her displeasure with a smile.
“Grandmama, please eat it! I’ve got enough!”
He was shrewd enough to know that the more obliging he acted, the more petty Siok Ching would appear to others. He took a shell with two pieces of creamy fruit nestling in it and offered it to her.
“Eat it yourself.”
“Siok Ching, take it,” Wee Thiam, her uncle, urged her. “Your adopted son is trying his best to please you.”
Defeated, Siok Ching accepted his durian. Baba Wee’s brother was a blunt-speaking man who brooked no nonsense from anyone. The owner and editor of Penang’s only newspaper in Baba Malay, he was highly respected in the family.
Knowing that Wee Thiam was very interested in stories about corrupt Qing officials in Kwangtung, Tuck Heng started to tell him what he had heard about them. He was a good storyteller and the younger members of the family crowded round him.
“Let Tuck Heng eat his durian first! How can he eat and talk at the same time?” Tua Neo exclaimed. “Come, Tuck Heng, try this fruit. It’s the Kedah variety.”
“Tuck Heng has more than enough,” Siok Ching protested again. “Give it to the other children.”
“Sister-in-law, let Tua Neo indulge the boy. Everyone is saying that as he’s Tai-kor’s adopted son, he’s also Tua Neo’s grandson. And the elder brother of your children.”
First Sister-in-law’s eyes had a mischievous glint that worried Siok Ching.
“Come, eat more, Tuck Heng! Poor boy, you’ll be shipped off to the wilds of Perak soon.”
Second Sister-in-law asked in an innocent voice, “Tua Neo, all my boys like Tuck Heng as much as Boon Pin. Can he come again?”
“What’re you talking about? Tuck Heng is my grandson. So this is his home.”
“Thank you, Grandmama. I’m a poor orphan. So I’m very grateful that I can call you both Grandmama and Grandfather.”
He knelt on the mat and kowtowed.
“My child, no need, no need!”
Baba Wee and Tua Neo were beaming at him.
“The gods sent you to protect Grandfather. How can we ever forget that? Every year on the anniversary of that street fight, I’ll go to the temple and thank the Goddess of Mercy for her blessings.”
The talk soon turned to the arrival of the new Resident of Perak.
“The Arab Muslims, the Hindus, the Sikhs, the Gujeratis and all the Europeans and Malay princes will be there to meet him,” Wee Thiam announced.
“They say that this Mr James Birch is high up there. Even more powerful than the sultan. The treaty says the sultan must listen to him.”
“The exact words go like this.” Wee Thiam took out his pocketbook and read from it. “‘The Resident’s advice must be asked and acted upon on all matters except those touching Malay religion and custom.’”
“The Malays see Raja Abdullah as God’s representative on earth! I can’t imagine him asking the white man for advice on everything,” Baba Wee said.
“I agree. I know Raja Abdullah. And our friend Musa Talib ...”
“Musa Talib? Is he back?” Tai-kor Wong was amazed.
“The Mamak’s here to get supplies. Safeguard the Datuk’s interests and his own naturally.” Wee Thiam laughed. “I brought him to see our lawyer, D’Rozario.”
“D’Rozario?”
Such names were still strange to Tuck Heng’s ears but he was learning fast.
“We need Eurasians like Charles D’Rozario these days. They know the English law much better than us.”
“Look, the ants are coming,” the children cried, bored with the adults’ talk.
“Ee Neo! Bring out the nasi lemak!”
Baba Wee’s second wife rose from her mat and silently did as she was told. Siok Ching’s unhappy eyes followed her mother but she quickly masked her pained look when she noticed Tuck Heng observing her.
“What’s nasi lemak?” he asked.
“Rice cooked with coconut milk. Eat it with durian.” Tua Neo handed him a plate of the steaming fragrant rice.
The children mixed the rich creamy durian into their rice, making a yellow mash which they scooped into their mouths with their hands.
“Eat with your right hand, not your left,” Tua Neo admonished them.
He tried to use his hand, mixing the sticky rice with the yellow flesh of the durian before gingerly conveying a lump of it into his mouth. His grimace soon turned into delight.
“So good to eat! So delicious!”
His terrible accent threw his listeners into fits, for try as he did, he could not master the singsong intonation of Penang Hokkien.
“Chinaman!” Boon Leong sneered.