The Ravages Of War

All it took was one war in 1942 to have my whole genealogical generation wiped out of its riches and its progeny scattered and strewn.

My paternal grandfather was a rich merchant. He owns plantations in Bukit Timah and I remember him in a black-and-white photograph along with grandmother (the third wife to my grandfather by the way) , dressed in her fineries which included a tiara. I always thought I had this aristocratic stirrings in my bloodline.

As far as I knew, when the Japanese struck, they were hiding away their treasures and jewellery. Much of the riches were lost somehow. Grandmother died after giving birth to her last daughter and not long after, grandfather passed on too. My father was orphaned and had to fend for himself at a very young age along with her younger brother and sister. The older children of the first wife were in a world unto themselves.

As if that war has not done enough damage to my paternal line, my mother in the meantime had fled to Singapore with both her sister and cousin. It was ironical that they were fleeing the Japanese tormentors back home in China, only to suffer a worse fate here in Singapore.

My mom's sister was killed. She had to suffer the indignity of warfare by eating tapioca, working in the fields and at one point was debilitated with beri-beri. She hallucinated and thought she saw Mary, the Mother of God's , apparition. She miraculously recovered and atrributed this to the saving grace of God, thereby becoming a Roman Catholic convert.

They sang anti-Japanese songs , the lyrics of which I can still partly recite. It had to do with beating down the Japanese and hatred for their savagery.

My mother left behind a blind mother and her father together with her other older siblings. Sometimes I would wonder what my fate would have been if I had been born in China, now that China was opening up and modernising. The village back there had even transformed into a somewhat bustling city.

My mother was also courted by a rich Chinese businessman while staying in the nunnery. She must have been one of those few coveted in the convent for their housekeeping skills and as future wives-to-be. I sometimes wonder who this rich Chinese businessman could have been and how my life could have changed too.

She would write back home via one of those letter-writers on the streets back then. Sometimes she would get a reply of sorts and even remit money. I am not sure if the letter-writer was truly writing and remitting the money back to China. Even if the money ever got as far back to China, corrupt bureaucrats would probably have intercepted the remittance. She showed me these letters in old, yellowed and faded pages.

Even our family name got transcripted wrongly. We were never the surname we have now. Some clerk mis-recorded. We were "Chong" for heaven's sake.

The ravages of war had left my family line tattered and torn. I can only hope to salvage our lineage's pride and riches.