Jamu

What my mother told me:

Your great-grandmother moved her five children into a little village to get away from the in-laws who didn’t like her. She had always been good at making traditional the herbal medicines, jamu. She would go from house-to-house making special concoctions to treat the people in her village. People found her medicine effective and word spread.

I'm jotting down a family story every day over the month of March for #b03, click here to catch up on the stories I've shared so far.

Words and numbers

What my mother told me:

When I was young, I wanted to be a journalist. I wrote some pieces, won a number of writing prizes and even had a piece published in the paper. When I came to Australia, my English wasn’t very good. It was so frustrating to not be able to express myself properly. Then I found mathematics. There was a really good nun at my school who encouraged me and would give me lots of exercises. I forgot about my frustration with words and learned about the beauty of numbers. I liked that numbers were always the same, no matter what language I had to try and speak.

I'm jotting down a family story every day over the month of March for #b03, click here to catch up on the stories I've shared so far.

Story 5: On falling in love

What my parents told me:

Dad: Your mum was still just a baby when I first met her. She was four years old and still in nappies!

Mum: I was not!

Dad: I was friends with your uncle and so we used to play together and your mum was one of the little kids who followed us around.

Mum: Then when I was 13 and in Indonesia it’s the custom that when a boy wants to date you that he’ll present himself at the house and meet your parents first. I was pretty sure that your Dad would come but he never did. I waited and waited and he never showed up.

Dad: You were too young!

Mum: But I knew that you liked me!

Dad: Then your mum had an operation.

Mum: I had my appendix removed.

Dad: And so I went to see her because I was her brother’s friend and all that. And there she was in the hospital bed. She looked so little in the big bed with all the pillows. And that’s when I realised, “oh yeah, I can't fight it; I’m in love.”

Mum: I was 15 and your Dad was 19 when we knew that we were moving to Australia. We went to the church together and prayed to God that we could be together in the new country.

I'm jotting down a family story every day over the month of March for #b03, click here to catch up on the stories I've shared so far.

Story 4: Saved

I'm jotting down a family story every day over the month of March for #b03

What my father told me:

I almost died a few times but the first time was when I was three or four . There were these large barrels around the house that were used to store and preserve salted fish. I wanted to see if there was any fish in the barrels and climbed up to peer inside. But the barrels had been empty of fish for sometime and were full of rain water instead. I leaned in too much and fell in head first into the barrel of water. I struggled but couldn't get myself out. I remember struggling and struggling and the bright sunlight shining in the water when all of a sudden I heard this almighty bang! My father, your Kung-Kung had been on the roof when he looked down and saw my legs sticking out of the barrel. He jumped off the roof and pulled me out. I was saved.

Story 3: The Factory

I'm jotting down a family story every day over the month of March for #b03

What my mother told me:

Your great-grandmother believed that families were strongest when they worked together so each of her children had a role in the company. Oma Marie was responsible for purchasing supplies; your Oma for overseeing production. I remember following your Oma around the factory, she had a big book that had all of the secret recipes. She gave instructions for the preparation of ingredients, measuring out and mixing but in such a way so that the workers wouldn't know which product that they were making.

As children we used to play in the factory. The maids, drivers and other workers would look after us while our parents worked. I always had so much fun playing with all of the children there. Some were my cousins, some were the children of the workers. Your great-grandmother sent us all to the same school because she believed that whoever was smart enough would get ahead.

Story 2: Australia

Over the month of March, I'll be jotting down a family story everyday as part of #b03

What my Opa told me:

I had five daughters when the soldiers started storing their guns in our home. My sons were all studying overseas at the time but the girls were at home and the soldiers were always around. It wasn’t safe. Your Oma and I met Opas and his wife Stella on a cruise ship in Hong Kong back in the 1950s. He was from Australia and had lost a brother in the war. We had a lot to talk about and kept up a correspondence for years after the cruise. There was always trouble but as Soeharto came to power, I told him what was happening to the ethnic Chinese in Indonesia. He was a Jew and told me about what happened to his people, he told me that he would help.

Opas:

I'd seen what happened to my people in Europe, to those who didn't leave. There were all the same signs; "A Solution." I told your grandfather that I would help. We made plans, then all of a sudden the correspondence stopped. For months and months, I waited. Then one day I was in the courts when the clerk called me to tell me that there were two Chinese-Indonesian sisters crying and asking for me in the forecourt.

My aunties:

All your Opa told us was to ask for Mr Phillip. I can’t remember how but somehow we made it from the airport to the courts. We couldn’t speak much English, we were very confused. We asked for Mr Phillip. We were told that there might be many Mr Phillips. We cried and they started bringing out these men who each went by the common name of "Mr Phillip". Each one would come out and we'd stop crying, look up and NO! That man doesn't look like how Opa described Mr Phillip! This went on and on, man after man, we crid and cried; where would we go if we couldn’t find Mr Phillip? Then finally a man came out and he knew why we were there and he took us home to his wife, Stella. She was so good to us.

Story 1: The Well

My family, like many, has an interesting story. Or that interests me, at least. I've always wanted to get the stories down do I'm going to have a shot as part of #b03 to jot one down here every day for the month of March.

A story that my mother told me:

Your great-grandmother had 5 children when her husband died. She lived with her family-in-law as people did in those days. The family never liked her and while her husband was alive, he protected her; with him gone, she knew that she wasn’t welcome. She took her oldest daughter to the village well and looked down. They were going to jump. She looked down into the well. She said it was very dark and deep. They were crying. She decided that things weren’t so bad that it had to end there. So they didn’t jump and they went home.