THE MEMOIRS OF MUSTAPHA HUSSAIN - Malaysia Today

30 Memoirs of Mustapha Hussain
young boy, nothing was more delicious and more expensive than that
treat! As I got older, I found out, to my great disappointment, that the
two Malay men who were always drinking coffee at the shop were
loathsome parasites, living and drinking off other people.
Matang Chinese shopkeepers kept their business open till late, taking
their evening meals in public view. Each evening, just before dusk, when
the Muslims were busy returning home to perform their prayers, the
shopkeepers set up their mobile circular tables on the sidewalk in front
of their shops. There, they ate their evening meals, mostly comprising
rice porridge, soup and salted vegetables.
I watched them use their chopsticks with great interest – the technique
was so different from the Malays who ate using their fingers. Yet,
no feat was too difficult for the two bamboo sticks. At home, I tried to
imitate them by using ‘chopsticks’ made from thin bamboo stalks from
our hedge. My mother smiled to herself when she saw me.
The Chinese I knew took great pains not to offend the Malays and
Islam. If they bought pork, forbidden by Islam for consumption by
Muslims, they would carefully wrap it up in huge lotus leaves and sneak
the packages into their homes through their back doors.
The Matang Chinese I knew also had a real fear of policemen,
especially as Matang was the location of the District Police Station, with
a team of gigantic, red-turbaned Sikh policemen. They treated the local
police sergeant with great reverence.
Contributions made by Matang Chinese went to the annual staging
of a Chinese opera, held on a wooden makeshift stage in front of one of
the temples. The stage featured a cheap vermilion cloth backdrop that
divided the platform into two – the stage proper and backstage. Gaudily
coloured props that included the unmistakably Chinese long knives,
swords, spears and flags were placed on either side of the stage.
Prior to every performance, many types of prayer paper were burnt
at a red outdoor altar in front of the stage, in an appeal to the gods to
keep their ancestors safe. The noisy cymbal-dominated orchestra sat at
the front on stage. Some musicians were bare-chested. Looking at their
skeletal figures, I presumed they were opium smokers. The sound from
their drums, cymbals, gongs and violins was deafening. It was loudest
during fighting scenes that generally involved emperors and generals.
The actors wore crude artificial beards and moustaches, with eye
make-up extending dramatically to their temples. Some wore garish caps
with pretty peacock feathers. Others had small flags stuck to their
waistbands; the higher the general’s rank, the more flags to his name and
waistband.