Francis Nantha

Fiction Story

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“How can you stand the loud cackles of these fat albino crows?” Yien Thow asked in Cantonese as he looked contemptuously at the gaggle of British women chattering loudly under the Petaling Street tailor shop awning.

“I have good reason to welcome these colonists’ pampered wives to my shop,” replied his older cousin, Choo Jian, who had been handing out batik wax molds for those white women to apply onto plain cotton cloth.

Confusion was painted on the face of the youth, who had arrived from Shanghai on a steamer ship the previous evening, just ahead of the 1924 typhoon season.

Choo Kian explained: “These pampered wives don’t know I understand their language. Their careless gossip lets me hear enough to warn our people before their barbarian males come looking for excuses to bully us.”

“How do you send out warnings? Aren’t you stuck in this tailor shop all day?” Yien Thow saw cloth swathes piled on shelves fitted to optimise wall space and a beaded curtain for the windowed sewing area. The shop’s only door was blocked by the women working on batik on the outside five-foot way.

“I excuse myself to use the outhouse and pin a yellow cloth strip at the side. I remove it once the risk has passed.”

Yien Thow nodded. “That’s smart, copying how our ancestors passed covert messages using mooncakes. Can you do more using these trade skills? Who’s going to notice what you print on batik?”

“Is that really why you’ve been sent here?” Choo Jian shook his head in mock dismay. “What does our homeland clan want of me now?”

“Our honourable leader Sun Yatsen says the British are finally sorry for poisoning our people for so many years with opium from India and are ready to leave us be. He wants to expand the ‘Hands off China’ campaign to this Nanyang area, so it can also be free of the British.”

Choo Jian cupped his chin to prevent his mouth from falling open in surprise. He could barely believe that the anti-colonialism campaign by diaspora Chinese was so successful so fast. But this was Malaya, where Chinese folk were in the minority.

“We must then persuade local Malays to join us. The Indians too, because they run the British government service. Once we speak with one voice, the British will lose their ace card of stirring trouble to divide us.”

Yien Thow’s left lip was raised in skepticism on his scrunched face. “Will those other races join our righteous calling? The British are keeping close watch on all Arabic and Indian script usage after so many riots. How can we make them embrace our aims and rally them to our cause?”

Choo Jian scoffed. “It doesn’t matter how much the British think they can control us with words and guns. There are better ways to stoke fires in our bellies, leave that to me.”

“How?”

“Give these people what they need and they’ll follow us. Many are hungry, struggling to put food on the family table after the new coins imposed here by the British. Very few have more than the clothes on their backs. You can thank me for winning their support after we offer them food and clothes.”

“What then?” Yien Thow asked. “How do we rally them?”

“Let’s spread our message of hope by giving out cloth with batik-imprinted hibiscus motifs. We can even get these foolish women to do the work, by letting them think they are being charitable.”

Yien Thow grinned. “I like that idea. How fast can we get this done?”

“Always so impatient.” Choo Jian tut-tutted. “We’ll tell everyone to display the hibiscus prominently, showing their support to be rid of the British. Have these plants at their homes, urge people to wear the flower proudly in hair buns, garlands and more.”

Yien Thow burst out laughing. “I can already see the British emulating the locals with the hibiscus, without realising the underlying symbolism aimed to get them out of Nanyang. How did you come up with this idea so fast?”

Choo Jian shrugged sheepishly. “In truth, I made a mistake by giving these English ladies my hibiscus batik designs and they can’t seem to get enough of them. I’ve been scratching my head about how to sell the excess they produce every week at my shop.”

This ‘mistake-turned-crusade’ proved to be a major turning point in his shop’s fortunes, as apparel with hibiscus motifs grew wildly popular in subsequent years among both the local and expatriate populace.

“Remember how it all started?” Yien Thow would remind his cousin, when canvassers came around the tailor shop to lobby support for Malaya’s independence during the 1946 local election rallies. Both would note that many of these supporters wore hibiscus-printed batik outfits.

But an ongoing Communist uprising in Malaya then also forced these cousins to stay mum about their contributions. Neither wanted to risk their shop’s continued success by revealing the hibiscus cause had originally come from China – which was sponsoring the Communism push across Asia.

“We’re lucky to be allowed to keep our shop open here,” Choo Jian observed as Yien Thow agreed sombrely. “So many of our Chinese kin have been relocated to new villages far away, simply on suspicion that they could be Communist sympathisers.”

While they carried this secret to their graves, the cousins were so proud when the hibiscus was made Malaysia’s national flower on 28 July 1960 – just three days before the Communist insurgency was declared over with the end of the 12-year Malayan Emergency.

About the author

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