“Hmmm. But the noise of the traffic spoils the illusion. Gosh, so much is lost in the name of progress,” says Goldie, with a tone of regret. “People should save something for the future generations. I’m afraid I don’t know the song, grandma. Will you sing it to me?”
So Pansy sings the words:
Di Tanjong Katong, ayer nya biru
Di situ tempat-lah jalan jelita…
(At Tanjong Katong, where the water is blue that’s the place pretty young girls go walking…)
“Wow! To think we even have our own songs. How rich is that?”
“Of course, we share such songs with the Malays, just as we share their language. They’ve become our national songs too. You have to attend a Peranakan musical. I’m so glad to see that these days there are so many young producers and playwrights who are putting on Peranakan musicals and plays. They are doing a lot to keep our culture alive. We must see one together when you get back. As a start, you should sign up to join the Peranakan Association. It will put you in touch with all things Peranakan. You’ll receive a beautiful glossy magazine with enriching articles about our way of life. The Association holds an annual convention and ball and meets up with Peranakan Associations from around the world—Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, Australia and even Canada and UK.”
“I am shocked that all this is going on in my own country, without my even knowing it. I guess it’s like the proverbial ‘I don’t see what I don’t expect’ syndrome,” says Goldie. “I’m like a bear still hibernating when winter is over.”
At Katong Shopping Centre, which was one of the first air-conditioned shopping malls in the 1970s, Goldie has to help her grandmother up the flight of stairs from the taxi stand. Pansy’s knees seem to have weakened overnight. Goldie experiences her first feeling of annoyance that many buildings and overhead bridges in Singapore do not take into account old and disabled people. She observes how her grandmother’s health has deteriorated from the day of the outing, as if in passing on her story, she is no longer obliged to stay on in this world and is surrendering her body. It saddens Goldie to think this, especially since they’ve only recently discovered each other more intimately, and because she’s going to be away for some months.
Her grandmother knows exactly where to go. She enters a shop that sells kebaya fabrics, sarongs, kasut manek and kerosang, all the accoutrements that are required for a full Peranakan outfit. The tailor takes out various bales of embroidered organza fabric in bright colours to put against Goldie’s skin, to see which colour suits her complexion best and brings out her beauty. There are different designs of peacocks, peonies and butterflies. The tailor also brings out the individually prepared embroidered fabric that is enough to make up one kebaya. Her grandmother and the tailor advise Goldie on the benefits of each design and colour. She is deliriously happy to be doing this with her grandmother, something she misses doing with her mother who is always so busy at work.
“So hor miah. Good life, to have a grown-up granddaughter,” the tailor says.
“Yes, I am,” Pansy says proudly.
Goldie smiles and chooses a turquoise fabric with butterflies. She is not to know how significant this choice of colour is going to be.
“Oh, your great-grandmother used to love turquoise too. And we both love the butterfly design,” Pansy says, glad of her granddaughter’s choice. “I used to cultivate plants and flowers in my garden to attract the butterflies in flocks. I used to say a line from William Wordsworth’s poem about butterflies. How does it go? Oh dear, I’ve forgotten. I’m really old now.”
“Don’t worry, grandma, you can give me even part of the line and I can google it for you.”
“Google? What does google mean?”
“Now for the sarong,” says the tailor.
“This is the artistic part,” Pansy explains to Goldie. “To make the outfit look like a pleasing ensemble, you must pick out the colour and motif in your kebaya to coordinate with those that are in the sarong, so that they match well.”
“You’re so lucky to have a pretty granddaughter to carry on our tradition,” the tailor says. “Young people nowadays can’t be bothered, and wear only Western clothes.”
“Yes, she’s making another of my wishes come true,” says Pansy. “I’ve always longed to have a daughter who would wear the sarong kebaya. I don’t have a daughter but am fortunate to have three granddaughters. At least there’s one who is interested in our culture.”
“That’s two wishes that have come true for you, grandma. What is the third?”
“So sad huh? If our culture dies because the younger generation doesn’t care,” the tailor interjected unknowingly.
“Don’t worry!” Goldie assures her grandmother and the tailor. “From now on, I will be actively participating and promoting our Peranakan culture.”
Pansy kisses her granddaughter on the cheek. Goldie is surprised to get such a show of affection, especially in public. It’s not something her mother does.
“Bless you! I’ve passed on an important inheritance. I can die happy now.”
“Grandma!” Goldie protests. “Please don’t talk about dying!”
“Come on, let’s choose a matching kasut manek and kerosang. We don’t have buttons in a kebaya so the kerosang, with its three brooches linked with chains, help to hold it together. They come in various designs too. You’ll have a problem with the kasut manek in the beginning as they are dainty compared to your stout boots. But see how they accentuate your elegant ankles.”
For the first time, Goldie finds it a joy to go shopping in a supermarket, going round with her grandmother to select the ingredients for making a pie:
