by Zen Cho
Devotees are urging the authorities to intervene to save the Heaven’s Fortune Temple in Air Itam from demolition. Though small, the temple boasts a unique layout among Penang temples and is known for the bodhi tree in the temple courtyard, which shelters altars dedicated to different gods. The picturesque tree is said to be more than 100 years old.
Developers served an eviction notice on the temple committee after the land was acquired by Sutera Sejahtera Sdn Bhd, a joint venture between Sejahtera Holdings and the Sutera Makmur Group.
“We hope the developers will not take any hasty action,” said the temple committee chairman, Barry Lim. “We are willing to discuss with them to find a good outcome for all parties, but we are not afraid to fight them in court. Their actions are insensitive to the religious sentiments of the devotees.”
The developers could not be reached for comment.
Jess couldn’t find any further reports on what had happened. Searching the name of the temple didn’t turn up any relevant hits. There was plenty of news about the two companies mentioned in the article, Sejahtera Holdings and the Sutera Makmur Group, but nothing else on the joint venture. What any of this had to do with her supposed maternal grandmother was beyond her.
Maybe the ghost was one of the devotees who’d wanted to save the temple. It seemed a strange cause to remain on earth for, but then again, it wasn’t like Jess was the best judge of Ah Ma’s priorities. She literally couldn’t remember the last time they’d met.
Of course, there was one person who might be able to tell her more.
She had to wait a few days before she had the chance to talk to Mom in private. It came when she was driving Mom around Penang in Kor Kor’s car. They’d dropped Kor Kor herself off at a friend’s house and would pick her up at the end of the day; Mom was using the intervening time and access to a car to run some errands.
“Mom,” said Jess, “was Ah Ma religious?”
Mom was jumpy. “What? Who is religious? Watch out for the motorbike there! Must be more careful. Penang drivers cannot trust one. If you damage Kor Kor’s car, then how?”
“Don’t touch the steering wheel,” said Jess irritably, leaning away from her. “You’re going to get us killed. I know how to drive, Mom. Chill.”
This was a misstep. Mom hated any reference to death or dying. Jess had to wait out a lecture on watching one’s tongue, rejecting the American practice of saying everything that came into one’s head, and indeed seeking to purge all inauspicious elements from one’s thoughts before she could repeat her question.
“Ah Ma?” said Mom. “You mean my mother?”
“Yeah, your mother,” said Jess. “My grandmother. Was she really into religion? Was there, like, a god she prayed to, or a temple she went to regularly?”
“Well,” said Mom cautiously, “older people tend to be interested in religion. At that age, you start thinking about the next life.”
Jess recognized this as Mom retreating behind the cloud of vagueness that was her customary defense against the awkwardness of not being able to tell the full truth.
Interesting, thought Jess.
“Why?” said Mom.
Jess shrugged. “Just wondering. Being here, it’s made me realize I don’t know as much about you guys as I should. I had no idea Dad used to be this bad-boy type, until Kor Kor got those photos out.”
“Dad liked to ride motorbike and have long hair only,” said Mom. “Actually he was a good boy. You ask Kor Kor. He was always careful what he said to his parents.”
Clearly “you’re going to get us killed” was still on her mind. Before she could get started down that road again, Jess said hastily:
“But it’s weird, all the things I don’t know. I don’t know anything about your side of the family.”
“There’s nothing to know what,” said Mom, contradicting herself immediately by adding, “Ah Ma had her own lifestyle. Where she prayed, what she did . . . I didn’t know much. I was a small girl only. Some more she was a very private person, didn’t tell people things. If you tell people about your life, they will sure comment one. She didn’t like people to comment.”
She sighed. “Ah Ma was different. Not like other people.”
Jess snuck a look at her. She was gazing out of the window, a distant look on her face.
Jess wondered what it had been like to have a mother who had imparted so little of herself to her. Mom might not talk much about her family, but she overshared about pretty much everything else. Jess often wished Mom would exercise a little more restraint, but when it came down to it, she didn’t really want a different kind of mom.
“Did you . . .” Jess hesitated. “Did you love her?”
She wasn’t sure what answer she expected, but it was like she’d asked if Mom loved her. Mom replied, without hesitation or doubt, “Yes. She’s my mother. No matter what, how can I not love?”
Glancing at her, Jess realized there were tears in her eyes. She reached out and patted Mom’s hand. “Sorry, Mom.”
Mom squeezed her hand. A brief silence fell. They were drawing up at a traffic light when Mom said:
“Min, I give you advice ah. You don’t get angry at me.”
This was standard Mom formula, prefacing unsolicited commentary on Jess’s life and choices, from the trivial to the major. She could be about to recommend that Jess change her brand of deodorant, or tell her to go to law school.
“I’m making no promises,” said Jess. “Hit me.”
“When you start work on Monday, don’t need to do too much,” said Mom. “Just because Kor Tiao is your uncle doesn’t mean you have to work so hard for him. They’re not paying you also. Do the minimum, enough already.”
It was a good thing they were still waiting for the light to turn green, or Jess probably would have swerved in a way that would give Mom legitimate grounds for freaking out. “Uh, what?”
“Not that I’m talking bad about Kor Tiao and Kor Kor,” said Mom. “They are letting us stay in their house. Of course I appreciate. But at the end of the day, relative or not, people will always put their own interest first. You have to look after yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” said Jess. “I’m not starting work on Monday. I don’t have a job.”
Mom blinked. “That’s why. Because you’re not working, you can go help Kor Tiao at his company. They need somebody to design their leaflets, do the website all that. Their designer threw notice few weeks ago, they haven’t been able to find a replacement yet. I told Kor Kor you’re very clever at this kind of thing. They’re very happy.”
“Are they? Great. That’s great,” said Jess, her voice rising. “When were you guys going to tell me? Monday morning?”
“We told you what,” Mom protested. “Kor Kor said she talked to you about it, few days ago. At first she wasn’t sure whether you’ll want to do it or not. She said, ‘Min went to Harvard, she wants to work for our company meh? It’s a SME only. Family-owned business.’ She said she told you if you don’t want to do, don’t need. But you said you’re OK with it.”
“When did I say that?” Jess began, but the memory of her early-morning conversation with Kor Kor came back to her.
What was it Kor Kor had said? Even helping Kor Tiao with his business, if you don’t want, you must tell us.
Jess had been too distracted by the discovery that she’d been talking to her aunt in her sleep to probe further at the time. Apparently among all the other things the ghost had done, she had committed Jess to taking a job at her uncle’s kitchen appliance business.
Jess rubbed her temples.
“I wasn’t really paying attention,” she said. “So I’m starting on Monday. And I’m not getting paid?”
“Kor Tiao offered to give you the same salary as the last guy, but Dad said don’t want,” said Mom. “After all, you’re helping Kor Tiao, but they’re do
ing you a favor also. You can put it on your CV. When you get a real job, you don’t need to work there anymore. Kor Kor and Kor Tiao understand.”
Jess stared at the road.
Designing leaflets about fridges wasn’t exactly what she thought she would be doing when she’d first left home for college. Even now, after the past couple of years had royally messed up all her ideas about herself and what her life was going to be like, she’d had other plans for how she was going to spend her time in Penang. Applying for jobs was like a full-time job in itself. Around that she’d been planning a project photographing old things in George Town. There was ample material—buildings, signs, walkways, picturesquely worn old walls with paint flaking off them . . .
Plus she was supposed to be talking to Sharanya on Monday morning. Not that she could use that as an excuse. The point of having the calls early in the morning was so no one in her family would know.
Her silence was making Mom anxious. “Min, you must understand. Dad is very paiseh. Kor Kor is his younger sister, but we’re living in their house, eating their food. Dad is getting a good salary from Kor Tiao some more.”
Jess could say no. They weren’t entitled to her free labor. She had some savings, so if it was a question of paying rent, contributing to the household expenses, she could offer to do that instead.
But she knew she wasn’t going to. The ghost agreeing on her behalf mattered less than the fact her parents had said she was going to do it. To contradict them would be to embarrass them in front of Kor Kor and Kor Tiao. She couldn’t do that. Her parents had almost nothing left except their face.
“Actually I’m not so keen also,” said Mom. “It was my idea. When Kor Kor said she’s scared you’ll get bored, it just came out. You know what Mom is like. But after that, I regretted. Why should you work for Kor Tiao’s company for free? Are you a slave?”
This was classic Mom: zero to sixty in about a nanosecond. Torn between resentment and laughter, Jess said, “Mom . . .”
“Kor Tiao is a good brother-in-law, good uncle, doesn’t mean he’s a good boss,” said Mom. “I’m worried about Dad, you know. Kor Tiao knows he’s not strong. He’s not supposed to strain himself. But still they ask Dad to be the installer. If Kor Tiao wants to help him, he should give him a job where he’s sitting in the office. Instead Dad is going out in the hot sun, carrying all these heavy items into people’s houses. That’s something wrong, isn’t it?”
This gave Jess pause. Dad didn’t talk much about what he did at work, so she’d only been distantly aware of the details. He didn’t seem unhappy with his job. But it wasn’t like he was going to be negative about it when he was living under his employer’s roof, was he?
“Dad has been working long hours,” said Jess slowly. Dad usually got home past eight, so tired he barely said anything at dinner. He even worked on Saturdays. Kor Tiao did, too, so Jess had assumed it was a Malaysian thing, but still . . .
“Too long!” said Mom. “Min, maybe you don’t like this plan, working at Kor Tiao’s company. But if you’re there, you can watch out for Dad. Make sure they’re not bullying him.”
That made Jess grin despite herself. “I don’t see anybody bullying Dad.” He was quieter than Mom, but equally stubborn.
“You don’t know,” said Mom. “Dad is different now.”
But she was wrong. Jess did know that. It was a good thing people didn’t die of broken hearts anymore, or Dad would have been a goner.
As it was, he wasn’t himself—hadn’t been in a long while. Jess had hoped coming back to Malaysia and having a job would make a difference.
Guilt squirmed in her chest. It had been easy to hope, easier than actually doing something. It was time she got off her ass and tried to help.
“I’ll do it,” she said. As if there had ever been a chance she wasn’t going to.
* * *
• • •
JESS DROVE MOM to the wet market and the post office. They picked up some clothes Mom had sent to a tailor for alterations, and then there was a place she wanted to try for lunch: “Kor Kor said the kway chap is famous. They serve with duck.”
They passed a temple on the way. It reminded Jess of her original plan to pump Mom for information.
She was unlikely to get a better chance anytime soon, especially if she was going to be stuck in a nine-to-five office job starting Monday. It was worth a shot.
Jess said casually, “Did you ever go to that temple with Ah Ma when you were a kid?”
“What temple? Back there?” The temple was already receding into the distance. Mom twisted, craning to see it. “No lah. That’s a Thai temple. We tend to go to Chinese temples.”
“You guys switched it up?” said Jess. “There wasn’t just one you used to go to?”
“Temple is not like church,” Mom explained. “Most Christians don’t go to different church every week. But Taoist, you can pray to a lot of gods. The gods don’t mind.”
But Mom was holding something back. The fog of vagueness had risen around her again.
Jess said suspiciously, “So was there not a main temple Ah Ma liked, or . . . ?”
“Do you have any appointment tomorrow?” said Mom, as though she hadn’t heard her. “Tomorrow you can drive me to JPN. Have to go in the morning, otherwise have to wait for a long time. I need to change my IC. The new one is biometric, it has a chip inside. When you go KL you can use to take the MRT.”
Jess had no idea what she was talking about, but if she asked she would just be enabling Mom in her transparent attempt to change the subject. Jess was opening her mouth to call her out on it when a recollection pricked at her. The ghost had said she should ask to look at Mom’s IC.
“IC’s identity card, right?” she said. “Can I see yours? I’ve never seen one.”
“While you’re driving?”
“I meant later lah,” said Jess, because Manglish in her accent always made Mom laugh. It worked this time too.
The place they went to for lunch was a classic Penang establishment, in a shophouse with tables spilling out onto the road. The food was served from a stall at the front, with meat and offal stacked on a metal table and two sweaty chefs ladling soup out of huge pots. They only served one dish: a bowl of wide rice noodles in a savory dark broth redolent of cinnamon and star anise, piled high with braised duck meat, pig intestines and other viscera Jess couldn’t identify.
It was the kind of thing that would have been hard to explain if she’d brought it as a packed lunch to school—but all of that belonged to a different life, in a different world. Here, there was no shortage of appreciation for the restaurant’s offering. Jess and her mom joined a line of hungry Penangites and tourists, drawn there by food bloggers and recommendations passed through the auntie network.
After they’d gotten a table and ordered, Jess studied Mom’s identity card. Mom looked like a youthful stranger in the photo, as yet untouched by the rigors of her years in America.
To hide how much the image moved her, Jess said, “That was a really unfortunate perm.”
“Back then very trendy,” said Mom absently. She was busy glaring at the people lining up at the stall, as though she suspected them of having designs on her kway chap.
“Wait,” said Jess. “This says you were born in 1963.”
“I think we’re supposed to go there and wait for our food,” said Mom, half rising.
“Sit down. I’ll go,” said Jess. “That’s wrong, isn’t it? You were born in 1962.”
“Oh, that,” said Mom. “My father was slow to register me, so birth cert and IC say 1963. Actually I’m born 1962, tiger year. But my parents told people I’m born one year later, rabbit year. Tiger girls supposed to be fierce, hard to find husband.”
“Oh,” said Jess. “So nobody else knows?”
“You and Dad only,” said Mom. “No harm people think I’
m younger, right? Min, don’t you think you better go now? After someone take our food. These Singaporeans don’t give chance one.”
“OK, Mom,” said Jess. She got up, handing the card back to her mom. “Don’t worry.”
* * *
• • •
WHAT’S YOUR BEEF with Ng Chee Hin? said Jess.
The voice said, Why you always want to talk to Ah Ma in the bathroom?
Mom doesn’t knock before coming into the bedroom, said Jess. Is it because of the temple?
The ghost said, How come you know about the temple?
I Googled Ng Chee Hin’s company, said Jess. She remembered the ghost—Ah Ma—was an old person. I mean, I looked it up online. There’s this thing called the internet, you can type in any word and find out about it—
I know what is Google, said Ah Ma. I only died last year! They wrote about what that bastard is trying to do to the temple on the internet, is it? What did they say?
There was a piece from last June about Sejahtera Holdings taking over a piece of land with a temple on it, said Jess. Is that what you were talking about when you said Ng Chee Hin was the enemy of the god?
They wrote about it in June? said Ah Ma. What happened since then?
I don’t know, said Jess.
She could feel the presence bristle. You don’t think you can bluff me! Ah Ma is very clever to find things out. You saw what, even things your mother doesn’t know I know.
I’m not trying to bluff you, Jess protested. I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t find anything else about it online.
There was a brief silence.
Only one article, hah? Then after that no more, said Ah Ma. Could be. All the newspaper reporters are scared of him.
Why? said Jess.
There was no answer.
Jess said, If you want me to help you, I need to understand what’s going on.