Bitter Sweet Harvest

by Chan Ling Yap

  “They must have been so embarrassed that they chose to ask Jenny for help instead of us. Otherwise, I am sure they would have called,” said Kai Min in an attempt to soothe her husband. “But you,” she jabbed her finger at An Mei, “what were you thinking? I thought that you were an intelligent girl. You must be mad to run away with a Malay boy at the very time when the Malay and Chinese communities are at loggerheads. How could you even think that it would be alright? Didn’t you think about what it would do to your family? Your father and mother were reunited not that long ago. I am sure your father will blame your mother and aunt for all of this. How could you?”

  An Mei cringed under their reproachful gaze. Yes. How could she have done all the things she did? she wondered. It all stemmed from that one insane moment at Heathrow when Hussein had turned to her beseechingly and mouthed the words, “Come with me.”

  “We’ll have to call them. To tell them that you are at least safe.”

  “Then what, Aunty Kai Min?”

  “That will depend on what your parents say.”

  “I don’t want to go home without first speaking to Hussein.”

  “Enough! Enough, I say!” shouted Tek San. He jumped up from his seat. “You selfish, stupid girl! If he had cared for you, he would not have left you alone in KL. He would not have left you at the mercy of that rascal Ahmad. I have heard of him. He is renowned for throwing his weight around and that Hussein of yours is obviously weak.”

  “We’ll call your parents now!” said Kai Min picking up the phone. “You deal with it,” she said thrusting the phone at An Mei. “It is your mess and your parents may not want us to interfere.”

  *****

  An Mei sat on the bed and drew her knees up until she was hunched into a tight ball. She plucked at the bed cover, crumpling the starched cloth in her fist at random until the sheet was a mass of little hillocks. Tears ran down her cheeks and on to her blouse. Everything had been decided for her once again. She was to return to Oxford, alone, without Hussein. She must never see him again. Her father had said that this ‘little’ incident, as he put it, would never be mentioned again. Her mother and aunty Nelly were overjoyed. Their happiness reflected in their voices, “Come home! Suen le! Suen le! It is over! It is over! We’ll not talk about it again. It’s already forgotten.” Their joy had moved her and she felt once again the intense guilt that had haunted her since she left for Malaysia with Hussein. Now as she sat on the bed, the feeling of guilt and self-contempt was overtaken by anger. She doubled over, hands pressed into her tummy. The hurt in her heart was like a physical pain.

  “Why? Why Hussein? Why have you let me down?!” she moaned.

  Chapter 9

  In the opulent surroundings of his parents’ home in Kuala Lumpur, Hussein sat in awkward silence with Shalimar. He was spent from the furious exchange he had just had with Ahmad. He was exhausted, worried, frustrated and helpless. He had accused Ahmad of kidnapping An Mei and demanded to see her. He had got nowhere.

  “Bukan saya. It is not me. I have nothing to do with her disappearance. Ask any of the servants here. Of course, I wanted her to leave, but I did nothing,” Ahmad had protested, blustering with righteous indignation.

  Hussein did not believe him nor did he believe his mother and father when they too protested that they had taken no part in An Mei’s disappearance.

  He did not understand how she could have vanished without anyone knowing. Panic rose in him. He feared for An Mei’s safety. He got up and walked towards the door, only to retrace his steps until he towered over Shalimar. “Did Ahmad let slip any clue as to the whereabouts of An Mei?” he asked her. She stared blankly at him. It irritated him that she did not seem to share his concern for An Mei. “Think! What did he say to you?” he shouted.

  “Minta maaf! I’m sorry. He did not say anything to me,” she replied. She poured out a cup of tea, found it cold and beckoned Fawziah to come forward. “Please bring us fresh tea. This is cold.”

  “Stop fussing with the tea. Go, go if you cannot help,” he yelled venting his anger on her. Once alone, he felt ashamed. He wanted to make amends.

  “Fawziah, please would you tell Tengku Shalimar that I apologise for my outburst.” Every minute that went by weighed on him like a millstone; he feared and imagined the worst.

  “May I speak to you sir?” Fawziah asked softly. “I have something important to tell you.”

  Hussein who had been re-making his way to the door stopped in his track. He turned to look at Fawziah, a glimmer of suspicion and surprise in his eyes. “Go on, tell me.”

  She looked around the room and then out of the window. She went to the door, peeped out and then closed it gently behind her. Hussein stared in amazement at her strange behaviour, but felt compelled to wait. Perhaps...

  “I know where Cik An Mei is.”

  He stood frozen for a second and then a torrent of questions spilled out of him. “Where? How did she leave? Was she forced to go? Is she safe? Can you get me to her?

  “Shhh! I will explain, but first I have to get fresh tea and go to Tengku Shalimar otherwise she might look for me and think something is amiss. I will tell her that you apologise for the outburst. Wait here. I will take you to Cik An Mei. I work in shifts and this afternoon I am supposed to go home to my family. No one will miss me then.”

  “You mean I can see An Mei this afternoon?”

  “As soon as I can arrange for transport.”

  “Then, tell Shalimar that I have gone to my bedroom for a nap and do not want to be disturbed. Tell her I will see her at dinner. That should avoid her seeking me. Will that give us enough time?”

  ”Yes!” the maid replied and hurried away.

  *****

  Hussein followed Fawziah out of the servants’ entrance at the back of the house. Five hundred yards down the back lane they turned into another lane lined with small houses; most of them no more than one room huts on stilts. Groves of banana trees and coconut palms were dotted between the houses. The scarlet flowers of a scattering of hibiscus bushes gave colour to an otherwise dull domain of dirt. Chickens scratched desultorily in search of food in the dark orange lateritic soil. They bent their heads low to peck at the soil, jerking them up once in a while to survey their surroundings, their beady eyes opened wide in a perpetual expression of surprise. Skinny dogs lay on their sides, thumping their tails at the hovering flies, their skins festering with wounds. Rainwater lay in stagnant pools until a cart or bicycle ran over them, stirring and splattering the murky water over any bystander unfortunate enough to be too close.

  “It is very quiet here. Is there no one around?” asked Hussein.

  “They are indoors. Normally, everyone would be out here in the courtyard. Children would probably be playing in the puddles and women would be drawing water from the well or washing. Sometimes, they even cook together in the open, sharing a pot to save on fuel. See those strings of ketupat hanging in that veranda? They boil the rice wrapped in leaves in that caldron over there. But these days, people prefer to stay indoors. They are frightened. The curfew was lifted only recently. And we hear so many stories. Come, my cousin is waiting.”

  They hurried on ignoring the stares of the few people who had dared to peep out of their houses or venture on to the verandas of their homes. But Hussein did not attract their attention for long. He was dressed in a pair of shabby trousers and an old long-sleeved shirt. Once they saw that he was with Fawziah, they returned to what they had been doing. They walked on until they came to a man standing by a ramshackle car, an old black Morris Minor. He was wrestling with one of the car’s indicators. It was jammed and stuck out in defiance of the man’s attempts to push it down.

  “I didn’t know that they still allow such old cars on the road,” commented Hussein. He stopped aware of his rudeness. “Minta maaf,” he said immediately. How stupid of me, he reprimanded himself. Of course, everything was old and decrepit in this little village even though it was just a few minutes away from his palatia
l home. Wasn’t this one of his reasons for returning to Malaysia? To help iron out the inequalities that had emerged even amongst the Malays.

  For her part Fawziah was not fazed by his remarks. “It works well enough,” was all she said as she opened the door for him. He slid into the car. “Mind the seat,” she warned, as his hand connected with stuffing from the torn upholstery. “I won’t come with you. My cousin has helped me find where Cik An Mei is staying. Before she left she gave me the name of an aunt who lives in a Chinese village called Sun Chuen. He will drive you right to the house so you will not need to walk into the settlement. It could be dangerous for you. Try to keep a low profile.”

  “Terima kasih! Thank you! How can I repay you? Won’t it be dangerous for him?” he asked looking at Fawziah’s cousin.

  “We’ll talk about it afterwards, but do not bother yourself about my cousin. He is willing to take the risk and I have taken the liberty of promising him that you will reward him well. He knows quite a few families in the village from the days when his car was in better shape and he was a taxi driver.”

  “I don’t have money on me,” replied Hussein.

  “Don’t worry, it’s fine. He knows you will pay him later. Go! Go now before he changes his mind.”

  *****

  The shutters were half drawn to keep out the sun. Kai Min sat in the sitting room, nursing a cup of tea in her hands. She held the cup close to her lips and blew gently into it, enjoying the waft of light perfume rising from the rose tea. She closed her eyes. Peace, at last. She did not like the commotion and arguments that had followed An Mei’s arrival. She was no longer used to it. Her children had all left home and she valued the feeling of peace in the house. It gave her space. It made her calm. The ceiling fan whirred above her. She closed her eyes.

  In the days following the civil riots, she had kept to herself at home. She did not dare to venture out, not even to buy fresh provisions. She was thankful that they were so well stocked with canned foods from her husband’s stores. She had been very sorry to see her brother Ming Kong leave with his family for England but had accepted it. She missed them and she was hurt that they had not called her for help. She sighed. Would she have done the same thing if one of her girls had run off with a Malay boy? Perhaps she too would not have wanted the other family members to know. She supposed Jenny had to be involved because she was the link to this Hussein. She should not be upset and jealous over it. Children, she mused, they were such headaches.

  She heard approaching footsteps and felt someone touch her arm lightly.

  “Siew nai, mistress, please come. Someone is blaring his horn and shouting for your niece, the one who arrived yesterday. I do not know who it can be. The car is very old. Aiyah lan cheh, a complete wreck of a car.”

  The maid sniffed dismissively. She ran to the window and lifted the shutters to look out. “Oh! Oh! The car has left. A Malai chai, a Malay boy with a ponytail is outside. He is shouting for An Mei. Who can the sooi chai, bringer of bad luck boy, be?”

  “Mind what you say, Ah Foong,” chastised Kai Min buttoning up her tunic. She did not appreciate being so rudely disturbed by her maid and she certainly did not appreciate someone calling loudly at her gate for her niece.

  “An Mei,” shouted Hussein, rattling the gate. “Open up. Let me in. I know you are there. I can explain.”

  Kai Min went out to the gate, her temper rising by the minute. All signs of the peace and tranquillity that she had been enjoying earlier wiped away from her face.

  “Tell An Mei to come down,” she commanded the maid. But An Mei had already heard and was scrambling down the stairs. “Hussein, Hussein,” she cried, breaking into a run. She ran past her aunt and went straight to the gate, grabbing the grill. “Please,” she cried to Ah Foong, “please open the gate.”

  The maid turned to Kai Min uncertain what to do. She waited for instructions, but kept glaring at Hussein muttering, “Nooi yan ying, like a woman, wearing his hair like that!”

  Kai Min gave a brief sign to the maid to open the door. Surprised, the maid took the bunch of keys that hung from her waist band with a great show of unwillingness and brusquely told An Mei to step aside, “mn ho chou qi sai, don’t block my way.” She pulled open the gate with much force and clanging. “What will the neighbours say if they see us consorting with a Malay man,” she muttered.

  Hussein came in and reached out to take An Mei in his arms.

  Kai Min immediately stepped between them. She pushed Hussein away. “Hey, this is my house. Remember your manners. Who do you think you are? An Mei, go in.” Addressing Hussein, she said. “You can come in only if you behave yourself.”

  “Aiyah, he is a Malay boy, Mistress,” said the maid disapprovingly, her upper lips curled into a sneer. “This is what happens when they go overseas. Mo-kah gow. They lose all their family teachings.”

  “This is not for you to say,” scolded Kai Min. “Go to the kitchen!”

  An Mei and Hussein followed Kai Min into the house. They stood waiting for Kai Min to sit down, not daring to sit themselves.

  “You might as well sit down,” said Kai Min with a sigh, feeling that she was fast losing control of the situation. She wished that Tek San was there with them. She looked disapprovingly at Hussein and immediately thought of her brother, Ming Kong. He certainly would disapprove of his hairstyle! And a Malay! Even if he was the son of an important man, a Datuk. I bet my brother would say, those titles were a dime a dozen, she thought to herself. She frowned at An Mei.

  “I can explain everything,” said Hussein. Turning to An Mei, he explained how his attempts to get in touch with her had been thwarted and how Fawziah had helped.

  Kai Min snorted. “Do you believe him? A tall story, don’t you think?” She tried to convey her disapproval and disbelief by fixing her eyes on An Mei with a look of pity, challenging her niece to disagree with her.

  “His parents did not put him in chains, did they? So why is it that he can come to Kuala Lumpur so freely with this new girlfriend and couldn’t do the same on his own earlier. Listen, whatever it is, your father would not agree. Do you want to hurt your parents and disappoint them yet again?”

  An Mei, stung by the sarcasm, looked desperately at her aunt Kai Min. Her mind was in a whirl. She turned to Hussein. “Promise me you are telling the truth?”

  ”Yes!” he said, his eyes looked into hers, willing her to trust him.

  An Mei turned to Kai Min. “I believe him.” A gasp came from the kitchen.

  “Ah Foong, mind your own business and stay in the kitchen,” Kai Min reprimanded her maid. She did not know what to do. An Mei was not her daughter; she was twenty-four years old. She got up. “I must speak to your mother. I’ll call her right now.”

  Chapter 10

  The house was quiet. Oxford was steeped in darkness, broken only by the soft glow of the streetlights and the headlights of the occasional car that was still about in the early hours of the morning. Peace reigned.

  Mei Yin eased herself out of the bed, careful not to wake Ming Kong. It was four o’clock. Barefoot, she tiptoed out of the room. It was dark. She made her way to the top of the landing feeling for the banister. The phone rang; its sharp shrill sound echoed through the house. She retraced her steps quickly to a wall phone in the adjacent corner and snatched up the receiver. By the time she had heard what Kai Min had to say to her, she was shaking. Just when she thought it was all settled and An Mei would be coming home, everything was up in the air again. She did not know what to say. She wanted An Mei to be happy but she was not sure if Hussein was the right person for her, especially in the present climate of mistrust and division in Malaysia. Her voice was barely a whisper, “Can I call you back? I need to discuss this. Can I speak to An Mei now?”

  “Mum,” An Mei’s voice sounded faint.

  “An Mei, are you sure about Hussein? You know all the consequences. We talked about it for days when you were with us and I thought you had come to your senses when we last spok
e.”

  “Mum, I love him.” An Mei’s voice broke. “Please can you and Aunty Nelly think of a way out for me. We’ll wait for your answer. I won’t do anything silly; I promise I won’t do anything without consulting you and Aunt Nelly.”

  “I don’t know. Your father will not forgive you. Do you want to risk that?” She heard sobbing at the other end, a big gulp, and then, “Yes, mother, but I hope it will not come to that. Please, please help me.”

  Mei Yin felt a surge of tenderness. She remembered herself at such a crossroad just a few years ago. She felt the familiar prickle in her nose and the wet warmth that welled up in her eyes. “Let me first talk to Nelly. I’ll call you back. Thank Kai Min for me. It has been hard on her. We have put her in an awkward position.”

  She placed the phone back on the receiver intending to go to Nelly’s room, but she was already on the landing waiting. She gestured to Mei Yin to go into her room.

  “Not good news?” she asked, once she was sat on the edge of her bed.

  Mei Yin sat down on the other twin bed, the one that An Mei used to occupy. “No! Hussein has found An Mei and has convinced her of his love. He has explained how his attempts to reach her had been thwarted. She believes in him. She does not want to come back.”

  “She is sure she loves this boy?”

  “She believes she does.”

  “We cannot tell Ming Kong. Have you noticed how terrible he looks? One minute his face is pallid, the next bright red. According to the doctor, his blood pressure is dangerously high. Last night, he complained of a dull ache in his heart and shortness of breath. Did he hear the phone ring?”

  “I don’t think so. He took a sleeping tablet last night. He has not been sleeping well for days.”

  “Neither have you?”

  “Never mind about me,” replied Mei Yin. “More important at this point is what should we do?”