Back in the 1950’s, my father was a tailor in a British Army camp. The camp was located just beside the church in Klian Pauh, Taiping. I was about six then and my brother, a year older. He had already started to attend an English school, the Saint George’s Institution.
My father’s tailor “shop” was a shed of zinc and canvas situated in the compound of the camp, away from the imposing main building of brick and mortar. It was a big compound; at the front of the building was a well-kept garden and at the back, a large field of coconut trees. Our shed was situated at the back, near to a durian tree and facing the main gate.
Our country was known as Malaya back then and we were still under British rule. As such, the soldiers in the camp were all British. I was in awe of these soldiers when I first saw them. Who are these giants with their fair skin, coloured hair and eyes and who speak in a strange language?
I don’t remember much about the camp now except for a few events that, for some strange reason, remain in my memory:-
Once I followed my brother to catch grasshoppers among the tall grass at the back of the camp. We kept the grasshoppers in a corked “orange squash” bottle that each of us carried. Our bottles were nearly full when a young giant, wearing a white apron, called out to us. We were scared as we could not understand him and did not know what he wanted. So, we just stood there. He came over, removed the bottles from our hands, released all the grasshoppers that we caught and then indicated with his hand that we should wait. He took the bottles with him back into the small room and we saw him wash the bottles. He then disappeared for awhile and when he returned, he was holding the two bottles filled to the brim with warm tea. He then gave the bottles back to us and shooed us off with a wave of his hand. We ran happily back to the shed to share our bounty.
On another occasion, he gave me a large paper bag full of, what I now realize are, coriander seeds. Not knowing what the seeds were then or what to do with it, I hid the paper bag beneath the cabinet at the side of the shed and soon forgot all about it. Then one day, there was a very strange aroma inside the shed. We started looking for the source of the smell and found that beneath the cabinet, the earth was covered with a carpet of green shoots! Apparently, the rain had wetted the paper bag causing it to tear and spill out the coriander seeds which then sprouted. The adults immediately recognized it as some kind of herb and harvested the plants to cook with chicken that day. They wondered how the seeds got there but I kept my silence. I did not want the hassle of explaining how I got the bag of seeds; they might not believe me.
One rainy day while I was half-asleep inside the shed, we heard the sound of something hitting the ground. On checking, we saw that it was a durian. I immediately wanted to go out to collect it but my father held me back. “It’s okay. You can collect it after the rain has stopped,” he said. “But what if the soldiers were to collect it first?” I cried. “No, they won’t,” he replied calmly. True enough, after the rain, the durian was still there. Back then, I did not know why the British soldiers left the durian alone or why my father insisted that we take the durian home to eat.
One day, my brother requested that I follow him and do what he does. So, after a little training, the two of us went around the camp looking for the soldiers and when we found one, we would stand at attention, salute and loudly cry out, “Hello John. Give me ten cents.” We were doing quite well until Father got wind of it and closed down our operation. Come to think of it, those were the first English words I learned!
Then one day, the soldiers all climbed into their trucks and rumbled out of town. Father said they were going home. “Why and where is their home?” I asked. Father then mentioned something about gaining our independence and the soldiers going back to their own country. Adults can sometimes be so confusing!
During the weekends, Father would carry me on his BSA motorcycle to visit his friends. Inevitably, they would ask him how he communicated with the British soldiers. (Father was Chinese-educated). “It’s easy,” he would always say, “You only need to know three English words: Yes, No, Alright.”
Incredulous as it may seem, I later reasoned out that what Father said is largely true. I can imagine the following exchanges between the soldiers and him:-
“I want to make a pair of trousers” - “Yes”
“Can you reduce the price?” - “No”
“I need it by Sunday” - “Alright”
With just three English words, my father was able to raise our family.
Much later, when I was raising a family of my own, I was confident that I would succeed whatever the hardships. After all, thanks to my brother, I know at least six English words – “Hello John. Give me ten cents.”
