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Authors: Dawn Farnham

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BOOK: The Red Thread
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Amateur dramatics was popular, but no plays had been put on for some time. Robert had formerly been feted as one of the best low comedians in town, but upon taking charge of the police the governor had hinted that his days on the stage should probably come to an end. Neither he nor Church could think that private theatricals and the midnight watch for Chinese thieves could go together. For most of the Europeans sleep came early, for the gun at Government House would be waking the town at five o'clock the next morning.

14

Inchek Sang and Baba Tan were drinking tea in the baba's elegant courtyard. The rich carving of the wooden doors, lattice windows and red and gold furniture contrasted with the cool water pool near which they were seated. This was a Peranakan house. Baba Tan was the first child of a
baba
father and a
nonya
mother. With no women permitted to leave China, Chinese merchants who settled in Malacca and, later, Penang, had married non-Muslim local women and begun families far from their homeland. Although they endeavoured to marry their daughters to Chinese men, this had not always been possible, and Peranakan intermarriage was the norm. This centuries-old mix had produced a hybrid culture of which Sang did not wholly approve. There might have been little direct Malay influence for several generations, yet the women of the house continued to dress in Malay fashion passed down by their mothers and to chew the betel, a habit which no pure Chinese woman would have countenanced.

The food that Sang was served was a mix of Chinese and Malay tastes, which he did not like. Occasionally he picked up a peanut or some other delicacy, but the spices of the
nonya
cuisine were repugnant to him. Even the baba language was difficult to understand, a mélange of Hokkien and Malay words and grammar. Sang was used to it by now, after long years in Malacca and Singapore, but he did not like it any the more.

Baba Tan, fully aware of Sang's prejudices, made a point of calling for spicy
nonya
food whenever he came to visit. The women of the house were confined to the upstairs rooms. However, they had a spyhole in the roof over the entrance, through which they could check on visitors, and they always looked this old man over. With his withered skin and grey beard, his claw-like nails and his old-fashioned clothes, he was a sight they could gossip about for hours. Tan's wife had met Sang's two wives on occasions at the temple or in the market. She felt sorry for them, having to be cooped up with such a man. She knew he did not care much for his daughters, who she suspected were ill-used. Everyone knew of the scandal of the first son-in-law. There was a sickly adopted son who looked like he might drop dead any day.

In a
nonya
house, daughters were valued, of the highest order, for, unlike in China, they would often remain in their parents' house and bring into the home new Chinese men, new blood: men who could speak the language which they could not, who could continue the ancestral customs of the old country and who, most importantly, would be malleable and obedient to the ways of the Peranakan lifestyle. Healthy, smart but poor Chinese young men were the ideal choices.

Nonya Tan was a happy woman, for she had no sons. This fact had, at first, saddened her, made her feel unworthy. She had feared her husband would take a second wife but to her surprise he had not. She knew he had a concubine in Kampong Glam, but she made no fuss, for she was glad that there were no sons and no other wives to usurp her authority in the home. She had given her husband four daughters, all pretty and healthy. She was the ruler of her home and, on his death, would become the matriarch, for foreign sons-in-law counted for very little. Love had not been an issue between them; she had been sixteen when they had married. They met on their wedding night, and those early years of unhappiness in the house of her husband's family, with her tyrant of a mother-in-law, she preferred to put behind her. Since then, husband and wife had grown gradually to like each other, sharing the responsibility for their daughters and the family finances.

Now she was very happy, for she knew that her husband and this old man were discussing marriage partners for their daughters.

‘Well, Lao Sang, how shall we proceed with this matter? I have heard of the two young men, Zhen and Qian.'

Sang nodded but said nothing. He had heard from Ah Liang of the exploits at the opium farm. These two might turn out to be good choices, but until the ceremony of initiation tomorrow he would not commit to either. He put a long fingernail against his cheek and scratched lightly. Tan shuddered slightly internally. Really these geezers and their ancient ways. Whenever he looked at the old man he was reminded of a shrivelled corpse. Tan himself was only thirty-four.

‘Baba, you will allow me first choice. Age has some privileges. It may be wise to bring them into town to work for us for a while. In a few months we should be able to judge which is better suited to our families. This one called Qian is keeping accounts at one of my farms. He can work at my godown for a time. The other you can bring to your shop. After a time we can exchange them. Are you agreeable to this arrangement?'

Baba Tan nodded his head. It seemed reasonable. After all, he had yet to meet either of these two men. And Sang was a wise old bird. He was right to be cautious after the awful business of the first son-in-law. This was an important step; better to go slow. Tan loved all his daughters but especially the eldest, who was pretty and very smart. He had been unable to resist teaching her to read Malay and English and some Chinese characters that he could remember. It was unusual, he knew, but he could not understand why women should remain ignorant of everything except domestic chores. His own marriage had not suffered for his wife's lack of education, for she was a canny housekeeper, but she had been a timid person and this he did not want for his own children.

His concubine was a beautiful girl purchased at the Bugis slave market. The colourful and numerous Bugis fleet of distinctive
prahus
arrived to great fanfare on the south-east monsoon every June, bringing a vast array of marine and island produce, the lifeblood of trade in Singapore. They also brought slave girls and boys captured amongst the thousands of islands of the archipelago. The English authorities frowned on slavery in theory but had done little up till now to stop it.

Her house was in Kampong Glam, and he had been careful to make sure that she and their two sons would have money after his death. These sons could not inherit his wealth, of course, nor carry out ancestral rites, but they would be taken care of and would eventually work in his business. He made sure to keep his two households well apart, for he had seen what evil came about when other men tried to keep everything under one roof. Jealousy, cruelty—even murder, though that was extreme. Usually everyone was just miserable, and the first wife generally bullied the second and subsequent wives or concubines ceaselessly. The bullying was echoed by the first wife's children, who cruelly picked on and tormented the concubines' offspring.

‘Very well, Lao Sang, let us proceed this way.'

‘
Hao, hao
, good. Tomorrow there is a ceremony. Their loyalty will be assured.'

Baba Tan raised his hand in slight protest. He knew of these goings-on in the jungle, but it did not serve his purpose to know too much. The English speaking Peranakan Chinese had, through long association, won the trust of the European administration in the town. None of them cared to get too close to the activities of the powerful
kongsi
. To know was one thing; to be involved, another. Tan knew the real need for such associations as a control mechanism and a lifeline for the
singkehs
and was grateful that they were run, very efficiently, by others. All the Peranakan families preferred their role as middlemen, taking neither side but reaping substantial rewards for their deep knowledge of the cut and thrust of local conditions. The British administration depended on them almost entirely.

‘Well, baba. Reluctant to face realities, as usual. You know it is an interesting situation. Should I will it, I could wipe all the Europeans from this place with one word. I have the control of thousands of men. You see how powerless are the white men to deal with even small bands of robbers.'

This was talk that Tan had heard before. Sang liked to boast and flex his muscles.

‘Of course, you are right. But what would it serve? Fortunes are to be made only with the English trading power and network. They open the world to us. It was so in Malacca, and more so here. The English do our donkey work by bringing opium and weapons. Everything we trade yields profit. I find them easy to deal with. But you are most certainly correct that a word from you could put an end to all this. We are fortunate that you are a wise man.'

Sang rose, placated.

‘Well, well. They serve our purpose for the time being. On the matter of sons-in-law, we shall speak again when we have had time to examine the two men.'

After he had left, Nonya Tan came to her husband.

‘You heard our discussions. That old fool, Sang, how he weevils on. As if any of this would be possible without the English. Well, well, we shall see what these two men are made of. I know it is not customary, but would it not be worth letting first daughter take a brief look at them? If there is not much in the choices, it would be best if she could like one of them. It may help her happiness.'

His wife looked at him in surprise. He was getting soft in his old age. She had never heard of such a thing. But she could see his point. Their own marriage had been so miserable at the beginning. It would be a happier home if her daughter could care for the man she was going to marry.

15

The day of the initiation ceremony had arrived. Zhen and Qian joined a band of some thirty men and made their way across country, with some difficulty, since rain had fallen all night. Much of the land they crossed had been completely cleared of forest, but great swathes of thick-bladed grass had sprung up where the trees had been cut. It was the typical pattern that, as the soil became barren and the trees were all felled, the gambier and pepper farmers moved on and cut down the next part of the jungle. Zhen was not sure how big this place was, but a lot of it seemed to have been used up. At one point they skirted the burnt-out buildings of a plantation settlement. Zhen was curious to know what had happened there, and addressed one of the guards.

‘It is a question of territory. A rival gang run by the
ang mo
has tried to challenge the power of the
kongsi
. This is what happens.'

Zhen was surprised. The white men had a
kongsi
here? Quite interested, he tried to find out more, but these guards knew nothing. He decided he would raise this with Master Liang when he had the chance.

They continued for many miles. At times along the way, they met men with black masks who guided them. Finally, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, exhausted from the terrain and heat, they arrived at an encampment. A pack of dogs came rushing, barking and growling, along the jungle path, until a man came out of a hut and called them off. In the centre of a large clearing stood three large, temple-shaped buildings each at least 180 feet in length, flags and pennants fluttering atop their roofs and walls. Inside and around the huts, men swarmed like maggots. Zhen recognised the flags of the seasons, the flags of the ranks. Others he did not know.

Around the perimeter of the huts, deep trenches twenty feet wide had been dug. As the group approached, planks were laid down. When the men had crossed to the other side, the planks were lifted away. On the far side the guard called them to halt. He pointed out small signs which indicated a maze of holes covered with loose brushwood and dried banana leaves. The top was strewn with earth so that it looked like firm ground. These holes were eighteen feet deep, the guard warned, and anyone not knowing about them would certainly fall in.

When Zhen and Qian looked briefly inside the first hall they saw hundreds of lamps burning. On all sides men were smoking opium; the air hung blue with fumes. Round the outside were piles of pointed wooden stakes, and inside were hundreds of shields, daggers and wooden spears.

The guard led them to a wooden shed to one side of the hall, where food and water were laid out on rush mats.

‘Wait here. The ceremony will take place this evening, when everyone will be here.'

Over the next three hours their shed filled up with two dozen other men who had been brought in from the farms. Zhen began to realise the extent of the plantations throughout the interior. It was all so much bigger than he had expected.

Inside the hut it was swelteringly hot, for there were only small openings in the sides. By nightfall, the noise from the main halls had become deafening. A huge crowd of about 600 men had gathered inside, eating, drinking grog and smoking opium. Then, suddenly, gongs sounded, drums were beaten, and the men fell silent and sat themselves in rows.

The initiates were told to unbraid their queues and were then led from their hut by three men carrying red flags with white borders. On the flag was written one word:
ling
(warrant). It meant that the flag empowered this vanguard to bring initiates into the lodge.

The initiates were gathered, seated at the door of the building. This was the Hungmen, the Hung Gate, the first of three they would pass through on their symbolic journey. Inside, by the flickering light of a hundred candles, they saw a great altar covered in red cloth with a picture of Guan Di, God of War, in the centre, stern and red-faced, holding a double-edged sword. On his left was his squire, Zhou Cang, and on his right, Guan Ping, his son, holding the god's seal wrapped in a cloth.

In front of this picture in the middle of the altar was a large peck of rice, covered with a red paper and black calligraphy. The peck contained a multitude of flags, which Zhen knew were those of the commander in chief, the sun, the moon, the five founders and the tiger generals. The altar was covered in an assortment of objects: copper coins, bundles of joss paper, pagodas, a sword and a white censer filled with joss sticks.

BOOK: The Red Thread
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