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Another glimpse of No. 154

To commemorate the 40th anniversary of grandfather’s passing, I shared his achievements as badminton player and coach in, Remembering our grandfather, and then found relevant and rare photographs of the family in grandfather’s house to share in, A glimpse of No. 154.

Grandfather riding his Lambretta scooter, heading
out on the driveway of No. 154 Jalan Ngee Heng
Thanks to the photographers who captured shots in the house and its surroundings that enabled me to highlight interesting anecdotes to family members who have never been to grandfather’s house and share our fond memories more effectively.

In our school-going years, our cousins, siblings and I lived with our grandparents and life at 154 was a regimental routine because grandmother ran a tight ship.

After all, grandmother had given birth and brought up 11 children almost single handedly, lived through World War Two and after struggling for survival in hiding from the foes, returned to 154 where the family rebuilt their lives.

Among other nasty nicknames we had for her, grandmother was also known as stereo because the volume she adopted to manage us kids, was simply loud!

Grandmother could be in any part of the bungalow – inside or outside – but when she called, we heard her.

Meanwhile grandfather, who was always ready with a comforting wink and smile, sympathized and sided with us because he was a fellow sufferer.

Grandmother, seated on grandfather's Lambretta
scooter Registration Number JB 8048;
The badminton court is in the background.
Looking back on our experience, I know that 154 was an excellent training ground for us because grandmother did not let us idle – or we would be up to mischief – especially during the weekends.

One of our important chores was to wash our own school shoes – canvas white shoes – which should be scrubbed with soap, rinsed out and while the canvas was still damp, to finish with a coat of shoe whitener and set the shoes to dry outdoors.

But that was not all. We had to keep an eye on the weather and remember to collect them if it suddenly rained.

Meanwhile, each of us also had a share of duties in the household maintenance.

For instance, sweeping different sections of the compound to ensure that the areas were free from fallen leaves or any other debris.

Just as grandfather had fashioned the poop-pan to collect dog poop from the badminton court, he also made dustpans.

By cutting up old kerosene tins or biscuit tins (different sizes!) and attaching them to short poles, he made dustpans that were used at various sections of the house and compound to collect rubbish that was conveniently dumped into the drain next to the back gate.

Collecting doggie poop from the court
using the poop-pan that grandfather made

Meanwhile our two older sisters had the task of sweeping the wooden floors upstairs.

Later I was also roped in for this task, so I too learnt the technique that grandmother had demonstrated to teach us how to do a thorough job.

Grandmother provided two types of brooms: a hard lidi broom and a soft paddy broom along with a dustpan.

First, we had to use the lidi broom to sweep lengthwise through the slits in between each wooden plank to dig out the dust and then use the paddy broom to sweep the dust into the dustpan.

There were two halls upstairs – the front hall was built above the front porch and a square table was there for us to do our homework and studies, and the rear hall – a much wider space that opened to three bedrooms.

This was a back-breaking task and the least popular among all the tasks assigned to us.

A thorough sweep of the wooden floors was done every now and then, as in another task, polishing silver.

For this task, we were provided with rags and a bottle of Silvo, a silver-polishing product, to bring all the tarnished trophies stored in two cupboards and on display shelves, to a bright shine.

Uncle Steven [Right] serving tea to our parents
in the traditional Tea Ceremony on his
wedding day; Note the two cupboards filled
with silver trophies which we 
had to polish one-by-one till they shined!

One by one, we had to remove the dull looking trophies, dust them and then apply a layer of Silvo on the surfaces, leave aside to dry before using another soft duster to polish the surfaces so well that we should be able to see our own reflections.

I didn’t count the number of silver cups and trophies – and there were plenty – and by the time the shine was returned to their surfaces, our fingers would not only be crooked with fatigue, they would also be wrinkled and ugly.

Another unpopular task was peeling fresh prawns.

I’m not talking about a few prawns but literally a mountain of small and large prawns that could cover the entire top of a low small table that measured about two feet by two feet square.

After spending so much time in front of this square table, I can still remember that it was green in colour.

Our eldest sister, Ruby, often ended up with this unpopular task and it had such an adverse impact on her that to this day, she dislikes eating prawns.

No, she does not have any allergy towards shellfish but her bad experience in prawn-peeling left such an indelible mark on her that she chooses not to eat prawns now.

Our brother Kennth [on tricycle]
with cousin Jesssie;
Note the driveway and gate
next to the badminton court
To feed the group of adults and children who lived at 154, grandmother would buy fresh produce like prawns, fish, meat and a variety of vegetables on her weekly trips to the fresh market.

She would need ingredients enough to cook daily meals for a week because in those days, every meal was homecooked and we hardly ever ate any meals outside*.

The quantities were simply huge, and we helped to peel prawns, pluck vegetables, among other chores, while grandmother cleaned fish and chopped chicken, before these items were packed and stored in the refrigerator.

One of the family’s favourite vegetables must be long-stalked spinach (Malay: bayam) and I learnt how to peel each stalk and to separate the stalks from the leaves before it was packed away for later.

Market days were also quite fun because grandmother often brought me along with her to the wet market, maybe just for company.

We would carry a stack of empty rattan baskets on a short walk from the back gate of 154 to Jalan Wong Ah Fook where the wet market was located, at the site of present-day Johor Baru City Square.

Seated on the wooden bench that
grandfather had made; We could also
stand on it to reach the open window
of the provision shop next door!
Besides dealing with the pong of fresh produce and picking my way across the pitted floor of the wet market, the market trip was usually a colourful and exciting adventure.

Grandmother would go to a familiar fresh vegetable stall run by Liang Chow, a Teochew family friend, and store her full baskets there while she shopped around until we were ready to leave.

My only grouse was how this stallholder would always greet me with a nickname, Keling-Mui (Cantonese) translation: Indian Girl. [I didn’t know it then but now I know that he was rude to use such a politically incorrect nickname!]

With her regular trips to the market, grandmother was familiar to the trishaw men because one would come forward to help carry the heavy baskets to load them onto the floor of the three-wheeler’s carriage.

While he held the trishaw firmly, grandmother would board to sit on its narrow seat. Her broad hips would fill the entire seat so I would end up squatting near her feet, next to the laden baskets.

My adventure to the wet market with grandmother would then end with a trishaw ride to the back gate of 154.

[Read more in my story on, Old markets and bus terminals, featured in My Johor Stories: True Tales, Real People, Rich Heritage.]

But it was not all work and no play at 154.

A rare shot of playing Masuk Belon with the
aunties on the badminton court at No. 154

When our parents visited during weekends, we would go for a drive and often ended up at places like Lido Beach or the Istana Gardens. 

Enjoy the photos and story of our regular outings to this park in, Family fun at Istana Gardens.

Sometimes our cousins and other relatives visited 154 and we would have fun together playing on the badminton court or enjoying a meal together.

Back then, we would create our own games and when she was in the right mood, Aunty Sylvia would gather us around and amuse us by telling us tall stories which she could cook up spontaneously!

I had shared in Remembering our grandfather, that before serious training started on the badminton court, our uncles and aunties would play with us to warm-up.

They were good sports to play other games on the court with us, not just badminton.

One of these energetic games was what we called Masuk Belon or Belon Achar a team game which made use of the lines drawn on the badminton court.

Our brother Kenneth, on the jungle gym that
that grandfather designed in the compound
The objective of this game was for a team to get to the opposite end of the court by avoiding being caught be members of the opposing team who were guarding the lines.

There would be a whole lot of yelling and screaming but a whole lot of fun too!

Another fun thing to do was to play on the jungle gym that grandfather had constructed in the compound for the children to play.

I don’t care for it (ugh!) but I know the boys enjoyed searching for and catching spiders from the bamboo fence that grew along the fence to keep out any breezes that may disrupt the badminton training on the court.

On weekends, grandfather would seek an opportunity to take us to watch an afternoon matinee or a morning show at the Rex or Lido cinemas.

Two by two, we would hold hands and walk to the nearby movie theatres that were accessible via Jalan Wong Ah Fook and Jalan Trus from Jalan Ngee Heng.

[Read, Escape to the movies, a story on our movie treats with grandfather featured in My Johor Stories: True Tales, Real People, Rich Heritage.]

Cousin Malcolm, up to his usual mischief,
trying to ride on Bonzo while Rajan looked on
At mealtimes, the girls would help to lay the table, clear the table and wash the dishes while the boys helped to arrange the chairs and stools around the tables.

To eat, grandmother preferred to use chopsticks with a bowl while everyone else used fork and spoon with dining plates, so we had to count the number of people and made sure there were places set for everyone (adults) at the table.

Grandmother also preferred to serve soup in individual bowls so there was a whole lot of crockery and cutlery to lay out and wash up.

And because the adults had fully occupied the dining table, the children would take our food and sit at a separate table for children.

After dinner, the boys would feed our pet dogs – Rajan and Bonzo – while the girls did the dish washing.

One to wash and another to dry because grandmother wanted all items to be replaced in their respective places within the cupboards and cabinets.

Once the draining board and sink was wiped dry, we closed the windows, shut the back door and turned off the lights before leaving the kitchen-dining area.

Aunty Sylvia [Right] amusing us
with her after-dinner tall tales!

By this time, members of grandfather’s Companion Badminton Party would be training on the court but the children should head upstairs to do homework or study.

One window of the front hall upstairs overlooked the gate and badminton court, so it was impossible for us to ignore the sound of people coming or going, shouts of scores from the court, clapping, cheering and even (*#!) cursing.

Sometimes we could not help ourselves but 
were drawn to this window to watch an exciting rally between promising players but the need to finish homework or studies would send us back to our books on the table.

Schoolwork was always a priority and any fun had to wait.

View of the front hall upstairs,
furnished with a square table for our
study and homework;
That's Aunty Nellie getting her
hair done by Irean AKA Sau Leng,
one of the Hakka Sisters hairdressers.

*About outside food, the treats we (the kids) enjoyed at 154 was from spending the Five Cents that grandfather often handed out to us, on a variety of preserved fruits or ice-balls (shaved ice on our dinner plates!) at the neighbouring provision shops.

When she started working at Universal Pharmacy, Aunty Polly discovered popular street food in town and acquired a taste for food like Teochew kway teow soup, wantan noodles and tau foo fah, a beancurd dessert.

Some of these hawkers would push their mobile stalls and pass by 154 on their way to JB’s first food court at Jalan Ungku Puan.

[Read about this popular Chinese food center known as pasak-kia or Chinatown in, JB’s first food court, featured in My Johor Stories: True Tales, Real People, Rich Heritage.]

To peddle their fare, the mobile hawkers did not call out a shout but created repetitive rhythmic sounds by knocking bamboo sticks together.

I guess they were pioneers in the Tik Tok scene because each hawker sounded a tok-tik-tok percussion as their unique identity while they pushed their stalls.

These rhythmic sounds could be heard from afar as the hawkers approached 154 and if Aunty wanted a street food snack, she would tell us to go to the nearest upstairs window to give a shout to signal the hawker to stop and park for us to buy from him.

Aunty or one of us would go out to buy a takeaway using our own container and before eating, Aunty would share a portion with us. Looking back, this was my introduction to the taste of good street food.

In fact, it was Aunty who also introduced me to my first taste of Mee Ho Seng Kee, a family recipe of traditional wantan noodles that I featured under Heritage Traders in My Johor Stories 2: Interesting Places and Inspirational People.

To be continued. More about Aunty Polly at 154 in the next exciting episode…  

Archive Photo of a scene inside the Johor Baru main wet market at Jalan Wong Ah Fook 

Note: The My Johor Stories series of books are available from MPH bookstores nationwide and online via www.mphonline.

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