A Tempayan of memories

This 1968 photo of the back of our Bedok kampong house brings back memories indeed. This was the yard where laundry was hand-washed every morning then hung to dry.  Kak Min our neighbour at 4E, is to the left of the photo (and strangely our back is facing her front). That closed door ahead opens to the outside. And that open door you see on the right was the entrance to our uncle’s bedroom cum store. Foreground next to the belimbing tree (not that in-season here) is what both Malays and we Peranakan Babas call a ‘Tempayan’ or large urn. It stood under a rain gutter ending directly above to catch rain water used mostly for watering the garden (with a safety netting over it since we have little kids around). The thing about this tempayan, it reminded this writer, the older of the boys, on how our mother used to discipline me due to some disobedience issue. Picture this: I was running around the tempayan with her chasing but unable to catch me and strike (with the rotan or cane). Eventually she stopped me and said while I was right across the tempayan on the other side, “Boy if I catch you, you will really get it from me (me interpreting this meant many whacks). Or you can come over to me now and I will give you just one whack. I thought about it for a while, then quietly walked over. Ow! She did keep her word.