Christmas at 222

Many of the fourth generation Chee family do not recall the celebrations of Christmas at 222 Orchard Road. The children of Chee Peck Liang did not grow up in a Christian home. There was no grace before meals or prayers at bedtime. In fact, according to my mother, although the girls were schooled at Methodist Girls' School and the boys were schooled at Anglo Chinese School, and were all familiar with Methodist worship services, our grandfather Chee Peck Liang frowned on Western traditions and religious practices. Mother (Goh Hun Keong) gave many examples of his negative perception of the Ang Moh ways. Certainly, (as we are all aware) our patriarch was a keen scholar of the Analects of Confucius and schooled his children in calligraphy and recitation of Confucius's philosophy.

Our parents (I was fortunate to have a double dose of Confucian as both mother and father spent their childhood guided by Chee Peck Liang's Confuscian ethics) had to practise their calligraphy before their classes at their respective Methodist primary and secondary schools, and then tutored privately in the reading and writing of Confucius moral values and work ethics. In fact, father once said that the tutors (I do not recall if they had one or several tutors through their formative years) prepared them for the Imperial Examination (abolished in the last gasps of the Qing Dynasty). I always wondered if our great grandfather Chee Kwi Kin was an Imperial scholar or if our grandfather, Chee Peck Liang prepared to take this examination since it was not abolished until after the turn of the 20th century.

Yet among my oldest memories of 222 Orchard Road, was the memory of Christmas parties (were there two or more?) held in the front hall of 222 Orchard Road. I suspect Uncle Chin Tiong, (T'ng Kah) was adult promoting the Christmas parties as I remember him as the person picking up brightly wrapped presents (were they Christmas wrapping papers or were they merely brown paper festooned with Christmas ribbons?) handing them to grandmother as he called out the names of the children present. As our names were called, each grandchild,very 'kwai2', walked up to grandmother, and received with both hands our present, bowing slightly as we thanked grandmother and then quietly walked back to our seats. There was no tearing of papers the way my wild American children do at dawn on Christmas day. We all sat in family groups, and waited for our names to be called, and we each returned to our place in the family group with present in hand. Not a single child whined to open presents or left our places by our parents.

There always has to be an exception. I believe Margaret was the youngest child at that period of time. She would giggle and squiggle sitting between her brothers and parents, dressed in a lovely dress with wide can-can under her poofy skirts. I still recall being so jealous that she was the prettiest child there and commanded so much indulgency. Since she lived at 222, she also opened her present when she went upstairs to their family quarters, and later appeared with a gorgeous golden haired doll with blinking eyes! I had never seen such a beautiful doll in my entire life. I am sure the passage of time and my envious childish soul has exaggerated the loveliness of the doll in its lacYet, none of the nieces (or nephews) opened our presents to see what we received, not even whisper for permission to do so.

After the presents were given out, the children moved in our usual 'orderly' manner into grandmother's atrium for 'treats'. Sweet biscuits from tins, fresh fruits and orange pop (that was the real treat!) were served to all of us. Hundreds (thousands in my mind) of leather bound volumes, cover to cover of of Chinese ancient text surrounded us: the Analects of Confucius. Grandmother sat in her familiar Chinese vintage lounger near the front hall, the indulgent matriarch of 222.

After the treats were consumed, the cousins ran played outside as our parents bid their good byes under the stacks of Confucius Analects. Our grandmother said very little: a petite woman with dainty feet stuffed in 'doll' shoes, surrounded by larger adults, the uncles and aunts but always the centre of my curiousity: she was my Fuzhou Mother Christmas.

When Christmas at 222 Orchard Road became Christmases of my distant past, I shelved those memories away. Uncle Chin Tiong married, moved to Butterfly Avenue, Margaret and her brothers migrated to the U.K. and the cousins found our individual way to Christendom never to visit those volumes of Analects, silent witnesses of the passing of our Confucian childhood. The Christmas ghosts of 222 Orchard Road visit me at Christmas, even in America, hovering just a tad out of reach, never embraced yet never discarded with the used wrappings of Christmases present.