Stories from my bapak. (Chapter 1)

Alhamdulillaah, at age 77, my father is still healthy and relatively still strong.  He lives on his own now, after my mother's passing.  He cycles to the mosque daily.  He buys his food or sometimes he cooks easy dishes with ready made cooking pastes.   On weekends, he travels to visit his children, my brother and me.

Bapak was born in Melaka, Malaysia.  At about the age of 10, his family moved to Temasek, Lorong Engku Aman.   When I was a child, I thought it was Long Kwa Man.  Then, for a short time, he stayed in KL before returning to Singapore to work.   

Nowadays, he would tell me stories of his childhood and younger days.  I'd like to keep some here, so that I will not forget. 

MELAKA Childhood stories :

His house in Melaka is one house before the main road. And across that main road, was the sea.  Though his house is that near to the sea, his grandmother was a very strict person and did not allow the grandchildren to play at the sea, at all.    My father and his siblings could only watch from across the road, other kids playing at the sea.   My father and his siblings could only play around their house area and village, not across the road. 

Before maghrib, they must all be home, to take their baths and change to clean clothes, and can no longer step outside the house.  Sometimes they would sit at the verandah to watch other children who are still playing, till late.

Every morning, breakfast was putu piring and coffee.   My father would walk about five minutes to the house selling putu piring, which was towards the deeper end of the village.   Payment for the putu piring are made monthly.  This was apparently quite a common practice in the olden days with some shops and sellers. They would record the takings and payments in a small popular notebook, used to be sold in mamak shops, the 'buku tiga lima' (555)..  I've seen those notebooks at mamak shops during my younger days.   

One of those mornings, he was assigned to pick up the putu piring for breakfast and make payment, He was given a five ringgit note.    However, he forgot about it.  He collected the putu piring and returned home.  He didn't even know he had lost the money, and only realised when he was asked, if he had already paid the person.  I wanted to ask, what happened then, like was he scolded or beaten? But I didn't get the [mental] chance. 

Other stories, including the Temasek stories in other posts insyaaAllaah.