Reminiscing the Angin Taon Baru

BABA ANDY GWEE PROVIDES INSIGHTS INTO AGE-OLD CHINESE NEW YEAR RITUALS AND TRADITIONS THAT HAVE BEEN PRACTICED, EVOLVED AND CHANGED WITH THE TIMES OVER THE YEARS IN THE GWEE FAMILY HOUSEHOLD

Photos courtesy of Baba Andy Gwee.

MY CHILDHOOD MEMORIES OF THE TAON BARU

I remember grandma looking towards the sky with a slight squint and frown, while uttering in a sagely manner “angin taon baru” (meaning “New Year wind”; a breezy, dry wind that blows before and during the Chinese New Year) whenever there were stronger-than-usual breezes towards the end of the year, and I would be eating delicious white and red marble-sized glutinous rice flour balls with pandan (fragrant screw pine)-flavoured syrup soon after.

TWO MONTHS OF PREPARATION BEGINS AT TANG CHEK

These kueh ee (glutinous rice-flour balls), prepared by Mum and grandma, symbolizes unbroken harmony in the family’s household as well as looking forward towards a full circle of trouble-free domestic life for the coming year, and they are also offered in prayer at the Tai Seng Yah (Monkey God) and Chow Kong Kong (Kitchen God) altars in our home. Consuming it also indicates that the person has grown a year older.

A white and red kueh ee would thereafter be stuck to the back of our main front door to keep out evil and attract good fortune, whereas another pair would be attached slightly above the red paper label which we had pasted onto our huge, clay rice urn, with the beras (uncooked rice) within filled to the brim. This, to “show fullness” for that year, and that this fullness would be carried forward for the forthcoming year.

Kueh ee is consumed during Tang Chek (the Winter Solstice Festival), normally celebrated on the 22^nd of December, and Tang Chek also signals the beginning of a roughly two-months long process of preparing for the Chinese New Year.

Members of our family, especially Mum and grandma would be very busy with house cleaning (spring cleaning), cleaning of the household altars and the preparation of New Year kuehs (cakes) during this period, whereby Mum would be “in her element”, churning out dry cakes such as kueh bangket (tapioca-flour cookies), kueh Belanda (love-letter wafer), kueh tair (pineapple tart), cake lapis (multi layered cake) as well as her own inventions; coconut cookies and peanut butter cookies, thereafter storing them in empty tin containers, to be consumed from New Year’s Day onwards. Wet cakes would include kueh wajek (glutinous rice candy) and chok wa (jelly) which would be made closer to New Year’s Day.

My mother would not allow anyone to assist her in the kitchen, for she preferred to, or rather, insisted on working by herself, since most of the kuehs and cookies require essential, exact timing. Plus, she needed to concentrate, without the distraction of people all around her literally being in her way.

Relatives and friends would make short visits to our home during this period too, bearing gifts of more cookies and kuehs. I remember our family receiving kueh koya (green pea flour cookies), kueh bolu (sponge cake), kueh bakol (steamed glutinous rice flour cake), as well as the rabbit-jelly chok wa (sea agar-agar jelly made in the shape of a rabbit). I think most of the gifts were home-made.

As a child (I was born in 1965), I would invariably know when the next pre New Year event is, for Mum and grandma would each give me an ang pow (red packet containing money), as my Chinese birthday, the 24^th day of the 12^th moon in the lunar calendar, coincidentally falls on the same day as Hari Datok Naik; the day the Kitchen God ascends to heaven to submit each family’s annual report.

I would also be given mee sua (wheat noodle) soup with a hard-boiled egg coloured with a red dot via food colouring, a dish we Babas consume each year on our Chinese birthday, the longish wheat noodles representing blessings for a long life.

Kueh bakol (steamed glutinous rice flour cake), huat kueh (rice cake), oranges and teh liow (a variety of sweets for prayer offerings) and various other foodstuffs would be offered at the Kitchen God’s altar to ensure that only sweet words would flow from the god’s mouth when reporting to Ting Kong (Heavenly King, or the Jade Emperor God).

ONE WEEK BEFORE THE NEW YEAR

On that day too, about a week before the New Year, the chai ki (red cloth bunting hung above the doorway on social or festive occasions) would be hung above the main entrance to our home as a sign that our family has been blessed with good fortune that year, and that we look forward to receiving more blessings in the forthcoming year.

We would also cover the tables with tablecloths of white lace and the chairs with white lace covers tied with red ribbons, after which it would be the continuation of the virtually never-ending dusting, sweeping, scrubbing, mopping and washing in our big, old-fashioned bungalow house in Joo Chiat with its over 12,000 square feet compound which had commenced soon after Tang Chek.

All these would take on a more hurried and accelerated pace as the “big day” (Lunar New Year’s Day) approached, with grandma’s mood accurately mirroring the urgency of the occasion. She would nag, chide and literally scold anyone within earshot.

Our entire family would just keep silent and not answer back or retaliate, but persevere with our individual, respective household duties, for we respected her as an elderly member of the family, our matriarch (or to put it another way; we simply ignored her).

NEW YEAR’S EVE: FEEDING THE GODS AND ANCESTORS

Around mid-morning on New Year’s Eve, prayers would be offered to the Kitchen God, the Monkey God and our ancestral altar; one next to the Monkey God altar with framed photographs of my great-grandmother and great-grandfather. It is customary to “invite” one’s ancestors home (from the “other world”) to join in the family merriment.

There were many dishes offered, the most significant being the set of three dishes of boiled meat known as Sam Seng, which comprise a whole chicken, a whole duck and a large piece of lean pork. Typical dishes offered were babi pongteh (pork stew), ayam sio (chicken in spicy stew), pong tauhu (beancurd meatball soup), chap chye (mixed vegetable stew), itek tim (steamed duck), hati babi bungkus (pork liver balls) and achar (pickles), all of which were placed on the altar table in front of these two old, framed, black and white photographs.

There would also be a pair of long sugar cane stalks on each side of the back of our front doors decorated with a little piece of serrated red paper around each of them, which was to commemorate an aspect of ancient Chinese history. Or was it two pairs, a pair flanking each side of the entrance, with the red serrated paper tied around, to secure them to one another?

My father recalls one, whereas my mother said there were two pairs. I remember … only one, single sugar cane stalk. Whatever, the sugar canes are to commemorate an event that occurred during the Han dynasty, where the Han king and his subjects, in the course of fleeing from their pursuing enemies, hid within a sugar cane plantation. When the enemy soldiers arrived at that plantation during dusk, they mistook the many, tall sugar cane stalks for spears amidst the fading light. Believing they were looking at a large army, they retreated, thereby giving the Hans the chance to survive and fight another day.

In the evening, we would ensure all doors and windows were open and all lights switched on, before our family gathered for our, also customary New Year’s Eve Reunion Dinner, an age-old tradition which symbolizes the solidarity of the family system. Among the dishes were those prepared for prayer offerings earlier in the day.

We would all be seated together around the big kitchen table, offered toasts containing F&N soft drinks like F&N cherry, ice-cream soda or Sasaparilla (more commonly known as Sarsi), while simultaneously wishing one another selamat taon baru (Happy New Year, even though it was not the New Year yet), panjang-panjang omor (a blessing of long life), badan boleh kuat-kuat (a blessing of good health), peng an peng an (a blessing of peace), panday-panday surat (a blessing of doing well in school) which signalled the beginning of our Reunion Dinner.

After dinner, Mum and grandma would prepare ang pows, to be given to children and unmarried visitors to our home over the next 15 days. That night, we would make sure our rice urn was filled to the brim. Our sugar jar would be full of sugar too, and so would all our water flasks be full of water. All these to ensure and to attract “fullness” for the forthcoming year.

Near bedtime, all the doors would be locked, and all lights switched off. The closing of all the doors of our house, specifically the main front entrance doors signifies the closing of the old year, after which no one would be permitted to leave or enter the house until they were opened again the next morning to usher in the New Year, which is, unsurprisingly, not without its own ceremony.12

NEW YEAR’S DAY

SAMBOT TAON: WELCOMING THE NEW YEAR

Early in the morning the next day (Chinese New Year’s Day), grandpa would literally “throw open” our front doors at the appropriate time, after which he would light joss sticks and pray to Ting Kong (Heavenly King, also known as Jade Emperor) to Sambot Taon (traditional welcome of the Chinese New Year), followed by the Monkey God and the Kitchen God, all these with Dad closely observing and assisting him.

Some years later, I found that their roles have been reversed, whereby Dad performed the Sambot Taon ritual, with grandpa closely observing, and assisting him.

Grandma would check with the temples for the exact timing as to when the New Year begins each year, and it would always vary, sometimes greatly. For many years, grandpa and Dad would welcome the New Year at timings like 5.23am, 7.08am, 3.47am, 6.39am, and even 2.48am!

As such, on a particular year sometime in the 1970s, grandma consulted a medium we knew as Datok Mak Ee (the Nyonya medium which my father, William Gwee Thian Hock wrote about in an article in The Peranakan October – December 2008 issue. That article was also featured in a book published in 2015; Being Baba – Selected Articles from the Peranakan Magazine, on pages 45 and 46), and was told it was not necessary to follow the timings dictated by the temples. 7am would suffice. Thereafter, our family usher in the New Year at 7am sharp every year.

SOJA: PAYING RESPECTS TO ELDERS

Anyway, after having completed performing this ceremony, Dad would drive grandpa to his mother’s (my great-grandmother’s) grave at Bukit Brown to pay respects, and then return home, where they would find our entire family gathered in the hall, in new clothes.

Grandpa would be invited to be seated, and we would each in turn wish him, (standing and bending slightly, for male members of the family, whereas female members would squat slightly) “Selamat taon baru, Ah Kong” (“Happy New Year, Grandpa”). Grandpa would typically reply likewise, with “panjang-panjang umor”, “badan boleh kuat-kuat” and “panday-panday surat” (that is, almost literally the same well-wishes as the night before on New Year’s Eve) and hand each of us an ang pow. Then, grandma would be seated, and the above routine would be performed by younger members of the family, after which it would be Dad … Mum … and we children would simply wish one another by merely shaking hands, standing.

Breakfast that day would be an indulgence of the many cookies and kuehs prepared all those weeks before. These same cookies and cakes would be placed within glass containers on our verandah table as well as the long table (a different table from the one in our kitchen) in our hall downstairs.

WELCOMING GUESTS

Guests would begin arriving by mid-morning, a long, endless stream of relatives and friends, some of whom were the very same ones who had made brief visits to our home prior to Lunar New Year’s Day. They would wish the older members of our family the same way we had done, whereas it would be the more casual shaking of hands with the younger members. Children (like me) would receive ang pows, and Mum would reciprocate likewise by handing out ang pows to the children of our visitors.

Our guests would then be warmly invited to partake of our home-made snacks at the verandah, in the hall, or both, depending on the number of visitors we have at that particular moment, with members of our family coaxing them with the typical;

“makan lah, tachi … toksa segan …”

(“eat lah, elder sister … don’t be shy …”)

and they would characteristically reply with;

“baik lah … kamsiah, adek …”

(“ok lah … thank you, younger sister, [or younger brother] …”)

Alternatively, the response might be;

“Toksa! toksa! Gua baru makan … kenyang lagik …”

(“No need! No need! I have just eaten … still full …”)

The accompanying soft drinks would be F&N cherry, ice-cream soda or Sasaparilla (more commonly known as Sarsi).

The adults would converse, often excitedly and loudly, both in the verandah and hall, whereas kids like myself, my brother and an uncle would be running boisterously around the compound, playing with the children of our visitors. Most of our guests would not stay long, and would depart between half an hour to an hour of their arrival.

“Aiyee … Sekejap sudah moh pulang … Dudok lama sikit lah, tachi.

(“Aiyee … going back so soon … stay a little longer lah, elder sister …“) a member of our family would coax.

A standard response would be;

“Toksa … Kita adah manyak rumah lagik moh pergi. Lain hari bila senang misti datang lagik.”

(“No need … We have many more visiting to do. We will return another day.”)

To which we would say;

“Baik lah. Bila-bila senang datang lagik, ehⁿ?”

(“Ok lah. Come again when you are free, ehⁿ?”)

After they were gone, our family members would quickly clear up and prepare for the next visitors, while at the same time discuss about the guests who had just left our house. We would, often with wide-eyed excitement, loudly “compare notes” from the conversations we just had along the lines of;

“Si Mary tu makan manyak sekali … Gua agak dia lapair…”

(“That Mary eats a lot … I guess she is hungry…”)

”Bukan … gua rasa dia sukah gua punya masak. Gua punya kueh manyak orang makan tak berenti-berenti.”

(“No … I feel that she likes my cooking. Many people eat my kuehs non-stop.”)

“Lu perati si Patrick Gemok tak? Ini taon dia lagik gemok.”

(“Did you notice Fat Patrick? He is fatter this year.”)

“Ya … gua dengair dia sudah ho mia. Dapat kerja baru gaji tinggi. Dia sendiri tao dia gemok. Itu pasal dia makan sikit siak. Takot makan sangat mayak nanti perot bonchet dia meletop …”

(“Yes … I hear that he is now well off. He got a new, high-paying job. He himself knows he is fat. That is why he eats little. Afraid eating in excess may cause his paunchy tummy to explode …”)

“Si Kim Hock punya anak jantan baru kawin. Dia naseb manyak baik. Bini dia chantek sekali.”

(“Kim Hock’s son just got married. He is very lucky. His wife is very pretty.”)

“Boon Seng nampak tua sekali … Gua rasa bini garang dia bikin dia mia rambot jatoh sampay botak.”

(“Boon Seng looks old … I think his fierce wife causes his hair to fall off until he grows bald.”)

“Gua perati si Lian Neo punya laki ini taon kaki tempang. Ada dengair dia jatoh dalam cheewan …”

(“I notice Lian Neo’s husband is limping this year. I hear he fell in the bathroom …”)

”Bukan! Bukan! Anak dia kata dia menang chap-ji-ki (the twelve numbers betting game). Lepas tu beli motorbike. Tapi dia tak licence. Tak tetap. Bawak cepat sangat sampay termasok longkang …”

(“No! No! His son told me he won chap-ji-ki (the twelve numbers betting game). After that he bought a motorbike. But he does not have a licence. Not steady. Ride too fast went into the drain …”)

Our passionate, animated and rather vociferous (and frankly, rather rude) gossip would cease immediately upon the arrival of our next guests, normally minutes after the departing ones, and we would be all smiles as we greeted and wished one another “Happy New Year”, invited them to partake of the kuehs, made small talk (loudly), and then discuss behind their backs seconds after they were gone. The above standard routines and exchanges would continue almost unabated throughout the day and night on the first day of each Chinese New Year until our last guest have departed, usually late at night.

SECOND DAY: PAI CHIA (VISITING)

The second, and following days would find my parents, my brother and I making visits to my maternal grandparents’ and several of Dad’s colleagues’ and friends’ homes. Many lived in bungalow-type houses somewhat similar to ours, and equally many in semi-detached, terrace and kampong houses. There would be visitors to our home too, though less than on the first day.

FOURTH DAY: WELCOMING BACK THE KITCHEN GOD

The fourth day of the Lunar New Year would find our family praying in front of the Kitchen God altar, as that day is “Hari Datok Turun” or “Hari Datok Balek” (Day the God returns) to us Babas. We no doubt were welcoming Chow Kong Kong back into our home, possibly also at the same time politely informing him we hope that he had, well, submitted a good report about us …

On the fourth day too, we would remove the kueh ee which we had attached to the main door and rice urn. I do not know why it was specifically done on that particular day, for I noticed some families still have them behind their doors many months after the Lunar New Year. The sugar canes (whether one, two or four stalks) would no longer flank our front doors. I vaguely recall chewing on sweet, small, finely-cut pieces of sugar canes, which my mother recently confirmed we chopped them up for consumption each year.

My father, in turn, recalled grandma telling him our family used to celebrate Ting Kong Sehⁿ (the Jade Emperor’s birthday) when living in Cuppage Road (before our family moved to Carpmael Road, Joo Chiat in 1940). This observance required the setting up of the Tok Sam Kai (special two-tiered altar) with vegetarian food offered in prayer. All crockery pieces need to be “clean”, without any pieces of meat having ever been placed on them. As such, a set is kept, and utilized specifically only for this particular ceremony.

EIGHTH AND NINTH DAYS: TEMPLE VISIT FOR THE JADE EMPEROR’S BIRTHDAY

However, we stopped this practice in our home after our family moved, as we found the necessary preparations too tedious. Nevertheless, the Tong Sian Tng temple along Devonshire Road hold this ceremony every year on the 8^th day of the New Year at midnight. In a way, to represent the ninth day, and grandma, with Dad and Mum visited this temple every year, until my grandmother passed away in 1995.

I recall that sometime in the mid-1970s, my brother and I were taken along to this temple too, where our whole family went upstairs via a narrow flight of stairs laid with brown paper, which was to protect the stairs from the many who would similarly do so, as the second level was only accessible to the public once a year, on that night.

I remember seeing many tall, man-sized, lit candles there, and that it was extremely smoky. All our eyes smarted and hurt. Yet, we bore with it, prayed at the Jade Emperor altar amidst tears rolling out of our stinging, half-open eyes, after which we quickly left the temple and went home.

We were not at this temple at midnight, but around 8 or 9pm. I was around 10 then, and my brother, 8. Thus, I cannot recollect much else about this temple, and have to depend upon my parents’ memories. Among the many things my father told me is that there were many photographers in that temple, and when going home, many visitors would give money to a “leader” amongst beggars who waited outside the temple, most of whom were females.

This “leader” would later distribute (equally?) monies received among her contemporaries. It is doubtful whether these people were really beggars. Maybe they were merely taking advantage of temple-goers who were more inclined to feel charitable during their once a year sojourn to wish Ting Kong “happy birthday”?

Anyway, this temple is also where my grandparents would meet friends and relatives on the second level and would exchange greetings (amidst half-closed eyes), as many Babas would similarly go there on that same night. I cannot now remember seeing the photographers, the beggars nor my grandparents’ friends during the only time I had visited this place of worship.

However, I clearly remember that from a very young age, I became aware that the atmosphere of excitement and festivity would gradually decrease as the days went by, with less and less visitors to our home, and on the evening of Chap Goh Mei (the 15^th night of the Lunar New Year), grandma would go to the Kuan Im Tng temple along Tembeling Road to “amek api” (“take fire”).

In that temple, grandma would burn and pray with three huge joss sticks, after which she would hold them with one hand while carefully cupping and protecting the lit joss sticks to prevent them being blown out from any wind or breeze (whether angin taon baru or otherwise) with her other hand, hail a passing trishaw, board and ride that trishaw home, pay the fare, unlatch and latch-back the gate, stride briskly into the house, climb up the stairs to our verandah, go into the upstairs hall, and finally, light two candles with the aid of the joss sticks brought home, and then placed the three precious lit joss sticks in an urn of ash in front of our Monkey God altar … all these done literally with one hand, with that same hand (somehow) protecting the fire on the joss sticks from being blown out at the same time!

Grandma went through all these difficulties in order to symbolically bring the temple’s holy light home, to bless our home. That night, the flames on the joss sticks and candles would slowly burn themselves out, and so would all feelings of festivity and merriment correspondingly diminish over the next few days … weeks … months … until grandma once again abruptly stopped whatever she would be doing, gaze slightly upwards with a squint in her eyes towards the direction of a particularly strong breeze, and with an air of sagely wisdom softly, almost reverently proclaim “angin taon baru” again 12 months later …

HOW WE CELEBRATED NEW YEAR IN MY TEENAGE YEARS

I assisted with the making of kueh ee for Tang Chek during my teenage years. I have grown much bigger than since the first time I had this delicious … treat (each time, each year that I consume it means that I am a year older …) I therefore also helped out with spring cleaning around the house, both inside and out.

However, my mother still preferred to work, or rather, slog all by herself in the kitchen (some things never change …) and the only help she requested (that is; allowed) was for me to cycle out to the neighbourhood provision stores or nearby Tay Buan Guan Supermarket in Katong to purchase ingredients which she required for her marathon kueh-baking sessions.

Other than that, I could not recall any major changes to our family’s traditions and practices leading up to the “big day”. Except one, which came about when my uncle secretly recorded grandma’s “traditional” yearly, loud, incessant grumblings, complaints and scoldings, and then played them all back to her just before we had our customary New Year’s Eve Reunion Dinner.

Grandma laughed, and so did the rest of the family. The very next year, and all subsequent years thereafter, our preparations from Tang Chek to the all-important “first day”, even though rather hectic, and stressful, have become more … quiet, and pleasant.

Nevertheless, the routines for and events on the “first day” remained almost similar as to when I was a child. Only that grandpa no longer went to Bukit Brown cemetery, as on one particular year when Dad brought him to pay his yearly respects to his late-mother (my great-grandmother), Dad “kena kotor” (means; afflicted with “something dirty”; something spiritual), whereby Dad became extremely ill for years, during which Dad, with Mum went desperately to numerous spiritual sources seeking a miracle cure, for conventional scientific medicine could not help him, and it was a faith healer who subsequently managed to heal him. However, that is another story entirely, a very long and unusual one in my family history which I may write about some time in the future.

As for Chinese New Year’s Day, the main themes of our conversations and the ensuing family gossips the moment after our guests have departed have remained largely unchanged, for our relatives and friends, though having similarly grown older (Tang Chek and kueh ee see above), continue to depart earlier than we had expected… partake of too little, or a lot of our cookies and cakes… get promoted in their respective careers… grow fat… grow bald… get married… be terrorised by fierce wives… fall in slippery bathrooms and fall off motorbikes…

From the second days onwards, our visits to relatives and friends, this time around were mostly to the flats and condominiums they have been relocated to. And when they moved out of their decades-old bungalow or terrace houses, almost all of them had sold cheaply to the karang goni (rag and bone) men, or even simply left behind, indeed abandoned their old, huge, bulky, antique furniture and other items and replaced them with smaller, lighter and modern ones for their new homes.

ADULT YEARS: NEW YEAR IN THE 1980s

My family moved too, to a smaller (albeit also a) bungalow house in Siglap in 1988. It required 10 big lorries to transport our furniture and other properties, for we love the antique Baba and other old furniture handed down over the generations, and could not bear to part with them.

Of course, we brought along our Monkey God and Kitchen God altars (in my father’s car, with grandma carefully cradling them on her lap) together with all their prayer paraphernalia to our new home.

We also brought along with us our decades-old traditions and practices, including the sequence of events that had played out in our old home year after year from Tang Chek to the first day of the Lunar New Year. They have remained principally unchanged in our new home, except that we no longer stick kueh ee on our front door or (new, plastic) rice container (we have, admittedly, grown … lazy).

We also stopped making offerings to our ancestor’s altar, for the framed photographs of my great-grandmother and great-grandfather had accompanied an uncle to his new home when he moved (before us) in 1985. It did not occur to us to make copies of them at the time.

We also gradually did away with the crocheted white laces and ribbons for the tables and chairs. In addition, we no longer place behind our front doors, and thereafter chew-up, and consume one … two … or four ceiling-height sugar cane stalks meant to represent ancient Han soldiers’ spears.

Grandma, however, continued to amek api from Kuan Im Tng temple, but in Dad’s car, as the distance from that temple along Tembeling Road to our new home is further than to our old home. Furthermore, from the late-1980s onwards, trishaws have almost vanished from the streets of Singapore, except the ones for tourists around Chinatown and a few other tourist locations.

And we stopped this practice of balancing lit joss sticks from place to place after my grandmother passed on in 1995. In fact, we made even more changes and adjustments to our yearly Chinese New Year routines, the most significant being instead of having guests coming in and out of our home the entire day and night (which is, frankly, tiring for us), we would invite all our relatives and friends to come over at 7pm on the first day for a home-cooked buffet dinner spread comprising mostly Baba food.

Mum also no longer baked cookies and kuehs for the Lunar New Year. Instead, the weeks leading to it found us shopping for ingredients and food stuffs at several supermarkets and wet markets in preparation for the big feast on the “first day”. Of course, there was the inevitable spring cleaning too. There was always something that needed to be done. Every day and night. And it was marathon-cooking the few days before the “big day”. Other members of our family assisted Mum in this, for she (finally) allowed us to be in the kitchen with her, since cooking do not require as much concentration and essential timing as baking.

Relatives and friends would similarly make short visits almost every day, bearing gifts of cookies and kuehs just like “the good old days”. However, few would be home-baked. Most were purchased from the ever-increasing number of outlets selling factory-made, beautifully and imaginatively-packaged festival cookies and cakes that spring up every year, namely; NTUC Fairprice Supermarket, Cold Storage, Giant Supermarket, Bengawan Solo, Polar Cafe, the recently closed-down Glory Catering, just to name a few.

Our home would be as clean as it could possibly be by New Year’s Eve when we have our Family Reunion Dinner. Later that night, the back door, side door and especially the front door would be closed and locked, not to be reopened again until 7am sharp the next day.

It was the same welcoming of the New Year the next day (at 7am … sharp), followed by the paying of respects and wishing one another a “Happy New Year”, and then the preparations for our dinner-party … our guests’ arrival … the usual exchange of New Year greetings … dinner … engaging in the usual polite conversations … our guests’ departure … and we only indulged in our gossips about them (behind their backs) the way we have always done so, but on the second day onwards, since there would be cleaning-up to do after the last guest have departed on the “first day”, or rather, “first night”.

Some relatives and friends who could not make it on the “first day” would turn up on the second and other subsequent days, up to the 15^th day. They would be served the snacks we have received as gifts, often the very items they have given us a few weeks ago.

Like all previous years, as the days rolled by, and as the angin taon baru blows, I could literally see the past weeks’ gaiety, jovial and carnival-like feel slowly dwindle and decline, and it is with a somewhat heavy heart that I face the day-to-day inevitable work and stress of modern living with the thought and knowledge that it is close to a year before the next Tang Chek, where it starts all over again.

MIDDLE AGE

It is clear and obvious that over the decades, there have certainly been changes to our family’s Chinese New Year routines. We have done away with many traditions while at the same time adopted new ones, and one which we have, in a way, welcomed fairly recently into our family practice is the Lou Hei (Prosperity Toss) ritual which involved the tossing and consuming of yu sheng (a Cantonese-style raw fish salad) with the (newly) accepted belief that one attracts good luck, abundance and prosperity by doing so.

This tossing of finely sliced pieces of raw salmon, carrots, cucumbers, capsicum, pomelo, pickled ginger and Chinese parsley and several other ingredients high into the air and creating an untidy mess on the dining table, and being proud of it is a ritual my late-grandmother have never experienced, and probably would not have approved of, let alone embrace.

It is a manner of dining which have descended upon Singaporeans only not too long ago. For a time, no one actually knew who had started it, though it is now believed that this unusual and unique way of eating and celebrating have been concocted and popularised by four chefs in Chinatown sometime in the 1970s who were considered the “Four Heavenly Kings” of Chinese cuisine … not to be mistaken for the four Hong Kong “Heavenly Kings”, who are singers … and the Jade Emperor “Heavenly King” Ting Kong definitely had nothing to do with all this …

Anyway, my family have partaken of this dish together with its accompanying ritual in restaurants on several occasions. Being pure Babas, and being purely hopeless in Mandarin, we merely smiled and nodded in agreement as to whatever the waitresses preparing it for us were … chanting, for we trust that they must be good blessings in some form or another.

We have sometimes also purchased neatly-packaged, ready-to-eat yu sheng from the supermarkets and included it to our New Year’s Eve Reunion Dinner’s menu, or any day within the 15 days New Year period. While stirring thoroughly and then tossing the mish-mash of ingredients, well, not too high up in the air (imagine the cleaning-up afterwards), we would recite our own improvised version of blessings and wishes, invariably the same as the ones during all our Reunion Dinners, which would find us reel off; selamat taon baru … panjang-panjang umor … badan boleh kuat-kuat … peng an peng an … panday-panday surat … and more often than not, with the addition of “menang TOTO first prize (to strike the TOTO first prize)”.

The fairly new inclusion of this really “delicious” Chinese New Year practice is certainly one big change as far as my family is concerned, and we have done so simply because we find this colourful dish, with its cacophony of sweetish and sourish tastes delightful and … heavenly.

Taking into account all of these changes that have taken place within my family with regards to Chinese New Year, I have come to realize that perhaps the biggest change is the change that has subsequently come over me. It has been said that when one is young, one looks ahead, whereas when one is older, one looks back, which is definitely true where I am concerned as I approached middle age. I have come to realize the uniqueness of the Baba race and culture, and that it is a dying one. Hence, I feel that we (or rather, I) must play our part in preserving as much of what we have left of it as we possibly can.

Almost all Chinese, be they Baba or non-Babas celebrate Chinese New Year, and each would do so in their own way. There is no hard and fast rules as to which is the “correct” way to do so, and I would like to think that how my family have held on to, adjusted and even modified the traditions and practices in our household is, in its own way, unique and worth preserving, to be maintained for as long as possible. I hope that this article will help to document some practices which have ceased in many Baba households.

In any case, as each year drew to a close, I found that I was the one who literally “sniffed the air” and declare “angin taon baru” whenever there were strong winds towards the end of each year. Indeed, I am not ashamed to confess that I count the months, admittedly looking forward to the next New Year period. I also apply for leave from work months in advance. In the past, it was only for about three days or so. In more recent years, I would apply for more and more days’ leave, even up to over two weeks, where I would enthusiastically “plunge in” and eagerly participate in all the rituals and preparations required once Tang Chek arrives.

Even though a year older, and many more years in total since my first bowl of kueh eeⁿ, I would be like the proverbial child who never grows up as the angin taon baru blows. I would happily consume my share of the white and red glutinous rice orbs, and then also gladly accompany my parents in the shopping for ingredients, followed by all the other preparations required for the “big day”.

There were several occasions where I cooked some of the Nyonya dishes for our Chinese New Year party, and guests thought it was Mum who had done so. We (that is; my mother or/and I) would reveal that I was actually the one who had done the cooking, which would inevitably elicit responses of surprise and praises. This seem to, well, please me, and make me feel it has been worth my taking leave from work and preparing for this all-important “first day”.

Nevertheless, like in previous decades past, relatives and friends would drop by and pay short visits prior to New Year’s Day, and then return again on the “first day”. On Hari Datok Naik, the chai ki would be hung across the front of our verandah, and I would also be given an ang pow for my Chinese birthday as well as a bowl of mee sua soup with a hard-boiled egg.

Being somewhat house-proud, I would, additionally put up many bright, shiny-red Chinese New Year decorations which I had purchased to complement the many tangerine trees, peonies, Celosia Plume and other “lucky” plants at our front yard. An imitation Spring Blossom tree, a few (also imitation) tangerine trees, several pussy willow stalks and other reddish plastic plants would decorate our verandah, hall and dining room. Plastic lanterns would also sway in the breezes over our verandah, and shiny, glittering tinsels would be hung across the windows. Fake string fire crackers, reddish spring couplets and paper cut-outs of pictures of Chinese New Year scenes and the Chinese word “fu” (prosperity) would be on the walls all over our house.

This somewhat obsessive bid to decorate, to “dress up” our home with the intention and desire to create and further enhance a welcoming, festive and joyous atmosphere is a fairly new family routine which I have recently adopted and incorporated into our family’s Chinese New Year ritual, with more and more decorations being put up as the years go by, to the extent visitors could not be blamed for thinking they have mistakenly stumbled into a mini Chinese temple.

On the eve of the New Year, I would watch closely as Dad prayed to Ting Kong at the verandah in late-evening, and have always noticed the gentle (though sometimes strong) angin taon baru breeze that accompanied it. This entire scene and setting have always evoked within me what I consider to be the “Chinese New Year feel”, like a prelude as to what is forthcoming on the “big day”. I would also observe and assist Dad as he went into the hall to pray to Tai Seng Yah and then to Chow Kong Kong in the kitchen.

All the lights in the house would be switched on, and our home would feel bright, cheerful and “New Year Ready” as we sat down to our Reunion Dinner, after which Mum would prepare ang pows, followed by some last-minute cleaning, decorations and other general chores, like ensuring the rice and sugar containers and all flasks of water were full before Dad closed the main front doors later at night, symbolically shutting out the old year, all these also with me in close attendance.

I would rise early the next day, closely observe and assist Dad in welcoming the New Year, the way he did with grandpa all those years ago. At 7am sharp, the front, main doors would be almost literally flung open, and Dad would Sambot Taon at the verandah, below our chai ki, praying to Ting Kong with lit joss sticks. After that, Dad would pray to the Monkey God, and then the Kitchen God. I would help in sticking joss sticks into the respective receptacles, as our Kitchen God altar is rather high up, and requires one to stand on a stool or chair in order to do so. Dad, 85 this year, can no longer climb onto a chair or stool, and thereafter balance on it and stretch out to insert joss sticks into an urn.

I always notice that the items placed on our Monkey God altar were kueh bakol in the middle with huat kueh balanced atop it, flanked by several oranges on their right and left, all decorated with serrated red papers. On the altar table too was a bowl of uncooked rice, which in the past remained on the altar until the fourth day of the New Year, where grandma would examine it for mould. For decades, she would find orange mould on the uncooked rice, which was considered normal. But on one particular year in our old home sometime in the early 1980s, grandma found black mould instead, which has extremely bad significance for the family. True enough, grandpa fell seriously ill soon after.

At around mid-morning on Chinese New Year’s Day, our family would gather in the hall to exchange New Year greetings, the same way we have done for decades. After lunch, we would begin to prepare for our yearly Chinese New Year buffet dinner party. Though there are many Peranakan restaurants in Singapore offering a wide array of traditional Baba food items, it is a well-known fact that most Baba homes possess their own unique recipes whereby the dishes would vary in taste, sometimes greatly. Each household would claim that theirs is the best, though it is subjective as to whether or not that is true. Along the same vein, my home is no different, for the menu on our “first day” are home-cooked Baba food prepared via secret recipes passed down from one generation to another.

On the “first day” too, the buffet spread would be on the dining room table, all ready as our guests begin to stream in near 7pm. “Selamat taon baru” … “Happy New Year” … “Kong Hee Fatt Choy” … we would wish one another, and some relatives and friends would give me ang pows, whereby the following typical scenario would play itself out:

I would politely decline (that is; pretend to decline) the ang pow; “no need …” to which the giver would say “but you are not married. Quickly get married lah … So will have somebody take care of you … then I can stop giving you ang pow …”

“Aiyah … dare not lah … wait get fierce wife, how? Also, I am so old already …”

“No lah! Not necessary all girls fierce … You not that old what … Aiyoh … take lah!  For good luck …”

I would end this play-acting at this point with “Oh… good luck? Ok lah, thank you.” and promptly accept the ang pow lest the person agrees with my reasoning and changes his or her mind.

Some guests would arrive bearing a pair of oranges, which we would accept, and return him or her a pair too, retrieved from a bakol siaⁿ (red and black lacquered bamboo basket with cover) containing several oranges in a corner of our hall. This exchanging of oranges, symbolising the exchanging of good luck is not a Baba custom.

However, it is one which my family has adopted in more recent years, for more and more of our visitors would come with a pair of “good luck bestowing” oranges, and it would be deemed impolite (even selfish?) should we merely receive them and not reciprocate likewise. Nevertheless, when the guest was not looking, we would quietly (stealthily … secretly …) place the oranges we have just received into that same bakol siaⁿ to be recycled, that is; exchanged with the next visitor bearing a pair, thereby necessarily generating a “golden cycle” of “good luck bestowing oranges”.

In addition, most of our guests would come bearing gifts, for it would be considered impolite to have arrived at an invitation tangan kosong (empty-handed) in our Baba custom, and possibly in other customs too. We would typically receive presents like chocolates and many varieties of sweets and snacks, mostly decoratively-packaged Chinese New Year kuehs and cookies, which we do not think were home-made, but purchased from outlets like, well, NTUC Fairprice Supermarket, Cold Storage, Giant Supermarket, Bengawan Solo, Polar Cafe and the recently closed-down Glory Catering in Katong.

Of course, our family does not mind at all whether a visitor arrives with or without gifts (we would not gossip about them after they were gone …), for all who were invited to our “first day dinner” are people who mean a lot to us, and it is not the presents they bring, but their presence that is most important. People whom we have known for decades, as well as new friends we have more recently “adopted”, and at 7pm (sharp at 7pm … my family seem obsessed with the number 7 …) it would be buffet dinner, with a wide array of sumptuous Baba food on the long table in our dining room.

Our guests would politely smile to one another, with many gesturing and saying “after you” to the person next to him or her, all the while shuffling towards, and then briskly descending upon the dining room table.

They would partake of home-cooked dishes like babi buah keluak (pork with Indonesian black nuts, also known as nut of Pangium edule), sambal buah keluak (a buah keluak paste-like condiment), Nyonya ngoh hiang (Nyonya five-spice meat rolls), ayam sio (chicken in spicy stew), chicken mushroom-kow luck (chestnut), sambal prawns, stir-fried mixed vegetables … and various other non-Baba food items like pork or chicken satays and mini-sausages (dishes contributed by our guests) to go with rice … with A&W root beer soft drink, which has somehow replaced F&N as the soft drink of choice after we moved into our new home.

Our hall and verandah would be rather crowded, with (quoting the recent 2019 Chinese New Year as an example) around 40 people eating, not silently, but with most engaging in conversations at the same time. We notice most of them going for second, third and even fourth helpings (that is; we gossiped about them after they were gone). Many praised my mother’s (and unknowingly, my …) cooking no end during and after their meals.

After dinner, everyone would linger for some time, a distinct departure from the average 30 minutes to an hour visitors would stay on in our old home. There would be lively, continuous, incessant chatter as our guests mingled. Photos would be taken before, during and after the buffet dinner, and many would pose and take pictures of the Chinese New Year decorations I have put up. They seem to marvel at, and heap many praises on them, which I must gladly confess have certainly added to and elevated the festive air on the all-important first day (and night) of the New Year.

From around 10pm, our guests would gradually depart. They would profusely thank us for the wonderful time, and we would say we look forward to seeing them again the next New Year, as well as anytime in between. We could actually tell that they clearly look forward to visiting us again, and I think they could, in turn, tell that our invitation is not mere lip service, or simply going through the motion, but sincere. And so is my openly, blatantly informing them of my aim to make our celebration of the Chinese New Year even grander next year, and the years thereafter, each year surpassing the last also genuine, and sincere.

After our last visitor has departed, we would clean up, express relief that “it’s all over”, and that “everything went smoothly”. We felt pleased, yet somewhat sad that “it’s all over”, for the next time we would enjoy such festivity among people we treasure would be about one year away. Despite there being 14 more days for the New Year period, we knew that we would merely … go through the motion, for they would not be as joyously festive as the first day.

After we have closed our front doors (and all other doors) and retire for the night, in my thoughts would be ideas to make next year’s New Year celebration even better, with grandiose plans to reproduce some of the kuehs from my childhood to complement our home-cooked Baba food, though I also wondered how I was going to find the time to do so.

However, as I retire to bed, I told myself that is all for the future. When fatigue set in soon after, and sleep gradually, progressively enveloped me, my tired mind chronologically replayed the past weeks’ hectic, frenetic, even furious preparations right up to the events that had transpired over the past few hours. Mainly of our guests arriving, enjoying our food and hospitality, and then their departure, with them saying “Thank you …”; “See you again …”; “Happy New Year …” and I would become conscious of a light, warm feeling in my heart upon the realization that all the past weeks’ effort have been worth it, with my final, drowsy thought being that I actually, genuinely feel happy.

BABA ANDY GWEE, November 2019