Fifty Ringgit

Fifty Ringgit

By

Lo Sin Yee

 

 

Chinese New Year was in the air again.

The more my classmates bragged about what their fathers would give them during the festivities, the more I hated mine. On the first day of every Chinese New Year, papa would give my siblings and I one ringgit worth of red packets, a measly amount compared to those received by our classmates.  On the third day of the celebration, however, he would collect them back from us.

                My papa sold steamed buns for a living  Although our buns were delicious and reasonably cheap, the profit we made was meager and inconsistent.  Every month, much of our earnings was spent on our car repairs. The rickety beater meant a lot to us.  If it broke down, Papa would be unable to sell buns at the night market and we would have less to eat.  Each time our car required repairs,  papa would be on tenterhooks.  Again, today, after repairing his car, papa was left with almost nothing

                “We have no choice but to eat the remaining canned food in our larder,” declared Papa, sighing in dismay.

                “Does it mean that we won’t have steamed chicken and stir-fried leek for our reunion dinner this year?” asked Weng Weng, my younger brother.

                “I’m afraid so,” Papa rasped, the words seeming to stick in his throat.

                “I can make pancakes using the remaining eggs and flour,” said Mama. “Eating pancakes is filling.”

                “The flour is repulsive,” I said, “It’s full of weevils.”

                “Don’t you complain about food,” retorted Mama. “After sifting it, it’s as good as new.”

                “How ungrateful Tai Tai is,” my older sister Ah Hui hissed, glaring at me.

                “But what I’m saying is true!” I said in a raised voice, in my defense.

                “Hush, Tai!” Papa shouted. “Don’t shout at your sister.”

                Throwing Papa an angry look, I ran upstairs to our family bedroom.  The house was not ours.  It belonged to Uncle Ah Choy, the husband of Sei Ko, Papa’s youngest sister.  They had migrated to Johor for good a couple of years before.  We could not afford to rent a house so he had let us live in it.

               Although we didn’t have to pay rent, we still had to scrimp and save every month.  As such,  papa did not allow us to take showers longer than ten minutes.  If we exceeded that time limit, he would switch off the main water supply.  Being prone to constipation, I often spent a long time in the toilet and thus became a regular victim of Papa’s ‘law enforcement’.  My body would always be covered in suds when the water stopped running.  No matter how hard I rubbed my body dry, my skin would remain sticky with soap residues.  Arguing with Papa was useless and it would result in me being caned. 

               My only option was to get up without noise at midnight to take a second shower. The other thing I could not bear with Papa was his refusal to let us burn the midnight oil.  To save on electricity, we were only permitted to study until 9 p.m.  If we insisted on studying until midnight, he would bark at us and there would be no peace in the house.

                I took an old newspaper from the box and sat reclined on my bed.  I flipped the pages back and forth, unable to fix my eyes on the contents.

                Papa had never experienced a good life.  He had opened a grocery store ten years before but his lack of experience had made him unable to operate his business well. He had suffered heavy losses, and in the end he had become bankrupt.  He had taken this blow very hard and thus become a hot-tempered person. 

                The words on the newspaper began to turn into a blur.  I wiped my eyes and bit my lower lip. 

                A rush of footsteps scrambled up the staircase and Mama’s voice shattered the silence of the bedroom: “C’mon,  Ah Hui and Weng Weng. Let’s search for money in our bedroom.  I found some one-ringgit notes in there a few days ago and we might find some more today.”

                “How much money does Papa still have?” asked Ah Hui.

                “Twenty-five ringgit,” answered Mama. “I hope there is some more money hidden in our closet and luggage bags.”

                Mama entered the room with Ah Hui and Weng Weng in tow. Upon seeing me, Mama said, “Get up Tai Tai, let’s start searching for money in this room.”

                My heart sank.  Propping myself up on my elbows, I said “Mama, don’t waste your time. I don’t think there’s any money left in the bedroom.”

                Mama frowned and said, “Tai, you don’t know how desperate I am for money.  Your papa only has twenty-five ringgit in his wallet and that’s not even enough to buy our daily necessities.  I hope God will be merciful to us by revealing the location of some stray notes and coins.”

                With that, Mama opened the closet and searched through piles of clothes for money.  “Ah Hui, help me to take out the clothes and unfold them to see if there is money in them.  Weng Weng, open the drawers of the dressing table.  Check every corner carefully.”

                Ah Hui and Weng Weng did what Mama had told them to do.  Mama dragged out Papa’s luggage bags from under his bed and opened them.  Her eyes gleamed in anticipation of the possibility of discovering money.  Several minutes passed and their search did not yield the desired outcome.  Mama sighed. 

                “Tai Tai,” asked Ah Hui. “Why are you not searching for money?”

                “I’m not in the mood,” I said.  “There’s no money in the room.”

                “Mama,” said Weng Weng. “There’s a box under Tai Tai’s bed. Should we search it?”

                My body stiffened in trepidation.  Everyone now cast their eyes under my bed. 

                “Of course,” said Mama. “Tai Tai, get up now and look for money inside the box.”

                “There’s no money,” I insisted. “Leave my things alone.”

                Mama bent down and took the box out from under my bed.  She took out the newspapers one by one in search for the elusive money. 

                “Ah Hui, guess what I’ve found?” Mama cried, holding an envelope.

                “Is there money inside?” asked Weng Weng, curious.

                Mama thrust her fingers into the envelope and pulled out a thick wad of notes.

                “Praise the Lord!” Mama shouted, while counting the notes. “There’s fifty ringgit inside!”

                “Who put that money in there?” Ah Hui asked.

                “It couldn’t be Papa.  Was it you, Tai Tai?” Mama asked me, holding my arm.

                I was shuddering.

                Suddenly, mum gave me a tight hug.

                I was shocked.  But at the same time tears fell down my cheeks.

                I remembered having pilfered from papa’s Danish biscuit tin.  It had been done in retaliation against his thriftiness.  I had only stopped it recently.

                Mama’s face beamed.  She turned to Weng Weng and said, “Weng, go downstairs and tell your papa that I have found fifty ringgit.”

              I wanted to say no but no word came out.  

              “Thank God for the money,” Mama kept muttering, while planting kisses on the notes.

                In a short time Weng Weng returned to the bedroom with Papa.  The sight of the blue and red notes in Mama’s hand brought a smile to his lips. 

                Papa said, “Good, I wouldn’t have known what to do without this fifty ringgit.”                                                                  

                The usual churlishness on Papa’s face was gone.  He seemed to be choked at the final word. 

                Papa took the money from Mama’s hand and said, “I’m going to buy some meat and vegetables in town now.  I won’t be long.”

                Before Papa went downstairs, he stroked my head.