Filed under: Its Bathtime, Memories | Tags: old fashioned bathing singapore style
Hey, the voyeuristic amongst you, please get lost! Ha! This is not that sort of post.
Last night, I was taking a long bath. It has not been easy for me to lower myself lately, due to problems with my knees. I have difficulty bending them. Hence, I only indulge myself with bath salts and foam bath once in a long while. As I soaked myself, enjoying the warmth and the therapeutic effects on my aching joints, I was just thinking of how even bathing has changed over the decades.
The earliest bath memories I have for myself were those I had when I spent that year with 4th Aunt. 4th Aunt had a concreted water tank of sorts. I wish I had photos – but who had the money to take photograph of something as blah as bathrooms in those days? I tried to source for pictures on the net, but failed. So I guess I have to paint the picture with my words.
Bathing most glorious
The concrete water container was about 1m deep, 2 m long and maybe another 1m wide. Part of it extended beyond the bathroom, which had walls made of zinc. Hence the water tank was divided halfway by a half length zinc sheet so that the one bathing had some privacy. The tank was filled by a tap, outside the toilet. It was a clever idea to have this two part water tank. On the outside, another occupant of the house could either wash their feet or clothes, without having to occupy the bathroom.
Before taking a bath, we must make sure that the tank was at least half full. Who would want to bend almost double, in order to take that last bit of water out?
The earliest memories I had was being bathed by either my auntie, or my cousin. Even though I was six, I remembered feeling kind of embarrassed and could not wait to do it all by myself. Well, before the year was out, I was bathing on my own – with my cousin Ah Kuen jie jie checking to ensure I had washed all the soap out of my hair, and that out of sight places like elbow creases, and arm pits were clean from “Ldarkie” in hokkien (its something of cross between an “l “and a “d” sound – so I put both in) and “lo lai” in Cantonese – a term referring to dead skin cells that looked grey-black, due to the dust and dirt that collected.
The best part of this bath was the sheer cold of the water especially on hot days. We hardly used the electric fan, and air-con? what’s that? Strange how we hardly complained about the weather then. The first scoop of water was a real shock to the system. Brrrrr… then the joy came. Scoop after scoop of water from head to toe while I struggled to breath. The constant flow of the water made gasping for air difficult, especially if someone else was doing the baling. So most children would be gulping for air between scoops, much like a giant goldfish, the exact picture of cute being displayed – “ugly” in this instance read “unglam” but adorable.
Then a brief pause as soap was applied again from head to toe. Lux soap was a luxury. No one used shampoo then – who could afford such bourgeois products. As I grew older, I liked the slight disinfectant smell of the carbolic soap too. Made me feel squeaky clean. With the soap, I had to struggle with trying to avoid it getting into my eyes, or accidentally gulping soapy water down. All very tricky really. Several minutes later, eyes red from the sting of the soap, it was back to just enjoying the super refreshing cascade of water, down the back and splashing the front. It was also tickling time for many children as the adults would take the opportunity of the scrub down to attack sensitive spots for a giggle. Talk about bonding time!
I must not forget the fish. In order to prevent mosquito breeding, as well as to eat up the scrum from the tank, most families kept one or two fishes in the tank. We call it a “suy chi yu” in Cantonese, “Suy Chi” = water tank, and “yu” is fish. Many times, as I bathed, I would feel this funny sensation down my spine. I had baled out the fish as well. In a frenzy, I would try to rescue the poor fish, but often it would be too late. The fish had been washed into the drain and onto freedom. Fortunately they were not expensive fish, and mum or aunt would just go to the market to buy a few more.
The instant shower soon made an appearance, and the water tank was soon emptied and dried out. As we became more affluent, the shower won’t do, and we now have luxurious baths at home. Before long, the spas made their presence felt. Hence that wonderful afternoon spent, complete with massage.
I still miss the good old “suy chi” though!.
Kindergarten Ayer Itam Penang
Looking through my old photo albums, I found one taken outside my kindergarten. It was obviously the last day of school. I finally appreciated the banana trees and such. Oh it brought back such memories. Backwoods memories.
I did mention in an earlier post that I was looked after by a nanny. When it was time for me to go to kindergarten, I was moved out of her house, and moved in with my 4th Aunt. My parents were working, and could not manage my schedule. Life with 4th Aunt was really something – a real blast. But that is the subject of another story.
My kindergarten was located in a little kampong like area, one main road and some back lanes away from my auntie’s house. I vaguely remember the first day of school. I was warned by my mum, and my aunt that only little babies cry. I was a big girl, and should be brave about going to school. Actually I was quite excited.
Now you must understand that I was more or less brought up by an uncaring nanny. My mum was Cantonese – so I spoke Cantonese very well. Dad was Teochew, but unlike mum had no relatives in Penang. So I spoke no Teochew. My parents communicated in mandarin, so my spoken Mandarin was passable. Nanny was Hokkien, so I could manage that too. Kindergarten however had all classes in English – a totally foreign language to me.
All my life I knew myself as 方雪 亮。Dad was very proud of my name. All my other relatives called me by my nick name, in Cantonese intonation – Liang Liang. On the first day of school, I was herded into the living room of this old, wooden cottage like house. It was strange to see so many children and their mamas. My aunt hung around outside the room, just keeping an eye on me. There were so many crying children. I just could not understand why they were crying. I suppose they were mollycoddled by loving mothers their entire life, whereas I had been pretty much left on my own by my cheroot smoking nanny. I think I must have stared and gawked for the longest time.
Then came roll call. Teacher was trying to take attendance. When it came to me, she cried out, “Hng Sok Liang.” I totally ignored her. I suppose when roll call was over, the only girl left standing was moi. She came to me and told me, “How come you did not recognize your name, Hng Sok Liang?” I think she must have spoken in Hokkien cos I could understand her. I retorted indignantly, “That’s not my name. My name is方雪 亮. She shook her head in utter exasperation!!
I have to take a short deviation here. While I could not manage English, my husband could not handle Chinese. For him, Chinese class was a nightmare. He had English educated parents and studied in St Andrews – double whammy! I think he said that whenever the Chinese teacher did a roll call, he would look around anxiously to see if anyone else identified with the name. If not, he would sheepishly put up his hand and hope he was right on the money.
Anyway, kindergarten was a blur. The only thing I was passable at was Arithmetic – since it required little knowledge of English. I could not read a word. I could not speak any more than a smattering of the language. I did not have any story books of my own – we could not afford them. While my cousins could speak English – they were so much older than me that to them I was a little pest, worth nothing more than to be ignored, or teased – depending on their moods. Somehow, I plowed through that year – did not have many friends, did not have the favour of my teacher cos I was too big to be cute and not bright enough to be noticed.
The only excitement I had during that year was crossing the main road. Sometimes my auntie was too busy to walk me all the way to and from school. There was only one main road worth worrying about. She would stand at the pavement just outside the door, and then commanded me to cross when it was safe. Then I would run across the road, and skipped along the back lanes to the school, sometimes fending off some fighting cocks – fearful creatures though, and the occasional stray dog. Coming back was even funnier. I would walk all the way, stopped in the pavement opposite my aunt’s house. If she had not appeared yet, which happened once in a while, I would have to shout for her above the din of the traffic and to the annoyance of the house owners. They must have very sharp ears, for almost immediately, either my stay at home female cousin, or my aunt would appear, and then gave the command to cross.
Life was simple and so good. Looking at the picture confirmed what I told my children. I was tall for my age. I wonder what happened to me. How did someone who was rather tall then end up being such a midget?
