Life in the 50s and 60s was not just fun and play even for children. We each had specific chores and responsibilities. For example, everyone had to fold his own blanket each morning. The cleaning of the house was divided into 3 sections. Veranda - my youngest brother had to sweep this section. Living room - second sister. Dining area - me. Kitchen was wood fire and done outdoor, so no need to sweep.
Then the washing of clothes was done by my eldest sister - until she graduated to cooking - then second sister took over the washing. The collecting of clothes and subsequent folding was done by yours truly and that itself was a drama. Fortunately I love to fold clothes. The activity provided me with time to myself and reprieve from any scoldings ( for it seemed we get scolded a lot then - for reasons we could not fathom). However, there was an incident when grandmother spotted me stacking the women's underwear on top of the men's clothes. She called upon Heaven to witness my misdeed. Apparently it was taboo to place women's clothing on top of men's. No only would it bring bad luck to the men but it showed insubordination. Women were supposed to be always ranked below the men..... I was flabergasted and indignant and refused to comply with her orders to rearrange the clothes. Mum of course bore the brunt of her scoldings and finally to protect mum, I had to comply. However after that incident, I would always deliberately stack the women's clothes on top of men's clothes for a few seconds - just as an act of defiance!!
Ironing clothes was an ardous task. The charcoal had to be heated till ember hot. We girls did our own ironing but the ironing of other clothes was mostly done by second sister. So she ironed my parents' clothes, grandma's and the boys'. There were times my eldest brother was rather fussy about the way HIS clothes had to be ironed. Sometimes second sister was ordered to re-iron his shirt or pants due to some inadvert crease. Finally, she had enough. So one day, she deliberately burnt one of his shirt. That caused an uproar. But she was adamant - "You don't like the way I iron, then YOU iron your own clothes." So from then on, eldest brother had to iron his own clothes ! Sometimes he asked me to help him iron his clothes - for a fee of course!
Apart from household chores, we had to help grandma in her farm. There was food to be prepared for the pigs, the chicken eggs to be collected, the ducks to be corralled. In addition, we had to climb trees to pick guava fruits to be sold.
Pig rearing was actually quite fun. To feed the pigs, we had to collect large quantities of water hyacinth from the neighbour's pond. The water hyacinth were chopped and mixed with other vegetables like yam leaves, tapioca and sweet potatoes. These were boiled in a large (about 4 feet diameter) kuali and then fed to the pigs. We loved to watch the pigs gobbling up the swirl. Then in the evenings, we had to hose the pig-pen as well as the pigs for their evening bath! The fun began when the mother pig had her babies. Grandma and grandpa would be up all night during the delivery to rescue the babies in case they were crushed by the sow. We waited in the house as we heard the older folks counting the number of piglets ( we were banned from the pig-pen for fear of frightening the sow during her delivery). Usually there would be more piglets than teats and there would be a few piglets with no access to the sow's milk. Each of us would adopt a piglet and nurse it till it became stronger and then they were allowed to fight with the other siblings for the milk!
Collection of eggs was a dreaded chore for it often involved our hands being pecked by the angry mama hen. Every morning we had to go into the chicken coop and chase out the hen in order to collect the eggs. Sometimes the mama hen refused to budge and would furiously peck at us. We also had to scour the garden in case some of the hen chose to lay their eggs in some undergrowth. Our eggs were always in great demand as the customers said that the yolks were more yellow and more firm. Some would come early in the morning and wait to buy our eggs. Of course - they were genuine kampong eggs!
I hated the ducks. They had the habit of pecking my legs each time I neared them. I had to chase them away from the pond and into the barn. They would flap their wings needlessly and scatter hither thither, squawking in indignation. Duck eggs were less popular but mum would sometimes make salted eggs when the eggs were plentiful.
Another dreaded activity was the picking of guavas. Guavas in those days were small fruits with lots of seeds inside the fruit (different from the hybrid ones today) and they smelled terrible! I just couldn't tolerate the smell to this day. After picking the fruits, I would wash my hands for a long time to scrub out the smell. Grandma paid us 5 cents each to pick the fruits and the money we collect was used to buy food from hawkers. I thought that all of us were paid equally. It was only this year that I found out that my sisters were paid higher wages! Eldest sister said she received 10 to 15 cents and second sister received 15 to 20 cents. Had I known then that the wages were not equal, I would have rebelled!! All those years of needless suffering....
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