Life Behind The Gilded Panel

Life behind the gilded panel

It is 6 am and most of Alor Star is still asleep. The early Friday morning air is cool and crisp. I greedily breathe in lung full of this precious commodity knowing that it will disappear once traffic picks up. I join my friends in casual banter. Our relaxed demeanor may seem deceiving. We are actually like a pack of hungry lions waiting patiently for our prey to arrive.

Distant headlights herald the arrival of the much awaited convoy. Minutes later, an endless stream of vehicles start rumbling past us. My friends and I make our move as soon as the lorries grind to a halt. The excitement in the air is electrifying. We begin helping the sellers unpack and at the same time put aside things that catch our fancy. It is this mutualistic relationship gives the weekly Kampung Berjaya flea market its unique identity.

Today, however, I am rather unsettled. My favourite seller has yet to arrive. He has never been this late. It is almost 630 am and his deserted lot sticks out like a sore thumb. I continue going through a bag of old books at a nearby stall but sadly there is nothing interesting. I starting to wonder if this is going to be an uneventful day.

Then suddenly I feel a heightened sense of urgency all around. 'Mai dah! Mai dah!' an alert middle aged lady next to me proclaims. I look up and see people starting to make a beeline for the newly arrived lorry. Phew! What a relief. Abang Jo has finally arrived. I have known Abang Jo for more than 5 years. I have bought many wonderful things from him. As a matter of fact, everyone at Kampung Berjaya adores Abang Jo. He is ethical, dependable and sells quality vintage items at reasonable prices. His stall is the clear favourite among collectors and dealers alike.

Several men enthusiastically climb up the lorry and start untying the canvas sheet. 'Sabar! Sabar! Bawa turun dulu!' Abang Jo requests for calm. The crowd goes into frenzy the moment the first bag lands on the ground. I decide to leave the chaos and walk over to Abang Jo. He greets me with a smile. His teeth yellow from years of smoking his favourite rokok daun.

He apologizes for his delay, telling me that he spent the previous night collecting things from an old house. Then his eyes light up as he suddenly remembers something. 'Mari! Ada satu kotak kayu penuh dengan barang!' he beckons me to the front of his vehicle. I whip out my torchlight. There, sitting on the passenger seat is a large wooden box. 'Tengok dulu. Harga boleh bincang. Ini memang special punya,' Abang Jo confides before leaving to attend to his other customers.

I close the door behind me quietly, glad that none of my competitors have tailed me. My heart starts to beat faster as I move closer to get a better look. Adrenaline rush! The box surface is dark from the dirt and grime accumulated over the years. The dangling antique Yale padlock must be Abang Jo's handy work when he forced it open last night. I grip my torchlight between my teeth and give my hands unrestricted freedom.

My hands tremble as I lift the cover. The box is filled with all sorts of things. I quickly sift through the contents to estimate their value. In between the stacks of envelopes, books, diaries and documents, I see a pair of beaded slippers, a small ornate jewellery box, two little baskets and a photograph of a well dressed couple. The woman's attire screams 'Nyonya'. I just cannot believe my luck! The box must hold the possessions of a Peranakan lady!

Nothing is more important to me now than to purchase the box. I quietly bring the box to Abang Jo and discuss the price. We quickly come to an agreement and the items are finally mine. I leave the crowd behind and head towards my car. I can breathe easier now.

I initially plan to leave the box in the boot and only check it when I reach home. But the urge to look at the contents is overpowering. I give in to the temptation. I lower the front passenger back rest to form a make shift platform for the box. It is already 730 am. There is sufficient light filtering in through the windows for me to see clearly.

The first thing I do is to reach for the photograph. I want to have a better look. The lady looks young, maybe in her late teens. People, especially women, got married early back in the 1920s which is the time I estimate this photograph was taken. She must be from a wealthy family judging from the amount of jewellery on her.

This is a wedding portrait taken at a photo studio. The technology at that time required the couple to remain motionless for several minutes to allow their negative to develop clearly on a glass plate. Even the slightest movement during that crucial period would blur the image. Personal cameras then were rare and expensive. This could very well be the only photograph of the couple during their big day.

A pair of ladies beaded slippers come into view after I remove the paper based items. They still look quite new despite their age and were probably worn only during the wedding ceremony. The gold and silver threads glow as they reflect the sunlight. The mythical lion or 'chilin'images on them are intricate and very life like. Could the woman in the picture have made these herself? I begin to wonder what the world was like during her era.

Most Straits Chinese girls back in the 1920s grew up in very conservative surroundings. Their world was confined to the four walls of their homes and they rarely ventured outside. The older women would discourage them from even standing outside the house, drawing comparison that only bad oranges are displayed at the shop front while the good ones are always kept inside. Harsher comparisons to prostitutes are known to have been made for the stubborn few who refuse to obey. The girl's reputation and the family's good name were paramount at that time.

Most Straits Chinese houses have at least two halls. The main hall is used to entertain visiting guests while the inner sanctum is reserved for the family. Although the women usually remain out of sight but they would occasionally peep through the heavily carved panels to eavesdrop on important matters such as their betrothals.

The only time Peranakan maidens are officially allowed outside is during Chap Goh Meh. The girls put on their best outfits and take to the streets in cars or rickshaws with an elderly female family member tagging along as chaperone. This is the only time when the prospective wooer can see the girl of his dreams. Was this the way the couple in the photograph met? Or was theirs an arranged marriage?

Nearly a century ago most nuptials were decided by parents. Birth dates were compared to ensure a match made in heaven. People at that time believed affections are secondary and would develop naturally once the couple started living together. I am just imagine the suspense when they see each other for the first time during their wedding day. This photograph could have been taken on the day they first laid eyes on each other. Amazing!

Peranakan women enjoy less restrictive lives after marriage. They get to go out more often either accompanied by their husbands or servants. Senior Peranakan ladies are free to visit relatives. Things become more relaxed by the late 1930s when Straits Chinese ladies begin to participate in social activities like croquet, tennis and even ballroom dancing.

The Great Depression and the subsequent Japanese Occupation sounded the death knell for the traditional Nyonya lifestyle. Wartime hardship became an effective teacher in humility and self reliance. The Nyonyas start to change after the Japanese surrendered. They begin to prepare for life outside the house. The retinue of servants is a thing of the past and embroidery is no longer a prerequisite for marriage. The Nyonya is preparing for the modern world.

The distant horn of an impatient driver jolts me back to reality. It is nearly 9 am now and the Kampung Berjaya market has expanded like a balloon to nearly four times its normal size. I lock my car and brave the sea of haphazardly parked motorcycles to get to the nasi lemak stall. Abang Jo deserves a treat for making my day extra special.