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| A typical Peranakan shop house in Melaka |
Melaka: Memories of a Peranakan shop house at Tranquerah Road
By Wan Chwee Seng
The late evening air is filled with the tantalising aroma of putu piring which wafts from an array of steamers covered with cone-shaped lids. My wife and our friends have joined a few early customers to purchase the delectable snacks ( kuih ) at the popular putu piring shop located along Jalan Tengkera.
While they are busy watching the proprietor preparing the putu piring , I let my gaze travel back and forth along the length of the shop houses on the opposite side of the road. I remember, one of the shop houses used to be the residence of my eldest auntie or Makko Seh. She had graciously provided temporary accommodation to my sister, Janet and I , as we had already being enrolled at the Methodist Girls' School and Malacca High School, while we waited for other family members to join us after father's retirement.
I remember our auntie's house was a typical two-storied Peranakan shop house. When the Dutch ruled Malacca in the 17th century deeds were issued to the house owners and taxes were levied according to the width of the house frontage. Although the house frontage was relatively narrow, it was compensated by the length of the house which usually extends to about sixty feet.
The ground floor had a centrally placed wooden door with rectangular windows on both sides of the door. The main door led to a richly furnished reception hall (thia beseh). The faint light that streamed through the windows revealed ornately carved rosewood tables and chairs lining both sides of the hall while a round marble top table ( tok bulat) occupied the centre of the hall. A portrait of my paternal grandfather, painted by my cousin, Akuh Dol, and mounted on an ornate metal frame adorned one side of the wall.
After the reception hall was a fairly small, dimly lit hall ( thia kechik or thia gelap) with a flight of wooden steps that led to the hall and bedrooms on the first floor. As the young nyonya were forbidden to be seen in public, they would peep at the visiting guests from the dark recesses of the hall.
Father told us there was a peep hole on the wooden floor board of the master bedroom and so one fine day we made a search for it and discovered the coin-sized peep hole located directly above the round table in the reception hall. The strategically placed peep hole allowed the marriageable nyonya to have a glimpse of their prospective suitors and other guests. Father also told us in his days the young nyonya had to be transported in a sedan chair when they wanted to go from one house to another. The sedan chair was a simple contraption which consisted of a chair secured to a long pole and borne on the shoulders of two male bearers. A large piece of cloth was used to shield the nyonya from prying eyes. We were told the nyonya had to hold tightly to the pole to keep them from falling off from the swaying chair.
After the thia kechik was a courtyard( chim chae ) with a disused well and a bathroom equipped with tap water. On one side of the courtyard was a covered corridor which led to an adjoining kitchen. A wooden couch was sited under the covered way and it was here that my makko and my cousin tachi Geok Eng would spend most part of the day, talking in low whispers, as they while away the hours.
The courtyard and the adjoining kitchen, we were told, were the heart of the Peranakan household in the old days. It was here the bibik and nyonya would congregate and over cups (changkay) of Chinese tea, regularly topped up from a porcelain teapot (teko), they would chat and gossip until it was time to prepare lunch or dinner.
In its halcyon days, on festive occasion, the place would be a hive of activity as the hired cook ( chong po) assisted by the bibik and nyonya worked at feverish pace to whip up delectable Peranakan dishes such as pongteh, ayam buah keluak, itik tim, sek bak, chap chai and other mouth-watering dishes. The dishes would be laid out meticulously on a long table (tok Panjang); a feast for the eyes and palate.
In my mind's eyes I can picture the place echoing to the rhythmic pounding of pestles on mortars ( lesong batu) which blended with the grating sound of stone grinders ( batu giling) as ingredients and spices were pounded or ground into fine paste.
The cacophony of sounds that mingled with the incessant chatters and friendly banters of the bibik and the spontaneous outpouring of incomprehensible words from an elderly bibik who was prone to melatah added further merriment to the festive air. Amidst the culinary activities a scream of "Eh, ada banyak kechuak dalam chiwan" wafted from a nearby bathroom. It was just a Peranakan saying "Eh, there are plenty of cockroaches in the bathroom," in the Baba patois.
The kitchen adjoined the rear kitchen of another small house whose front overlooked a white, sandy beach and the open sea. The house was occupied by Girlie and her mum, a Portuguese family, who always kept their house spick and span. To reach the beach, we had to walk through their house and although the friendly couple welcomed us to use their house we felt a sense of guilt after our walk as we would inevitably leave grains of sand on their well-swept floor. Occasionally, we would follow our makko to the beach whenever she wanted to buy fresh fish from the fishermen. We would wait on the beach for the fishermen to bring in their day's catch. As soon as the boat berthed at the water's edge, our makko would hurry to purchase the fresh ikan parang, ikan bulu ayam or other fish, while we watched from afar. Using their culinary skills our makko and tachi Geok Eng would prepare savoury Peranakan dishes whose flavour still tingle my taste buds after all these years.
A Monday morning in the mid 1950s found me walking along Tranquerah Road, with a tinge of apprehension, as I headed towards Bandar Hilir for my first day at Malacca High School. Other boys and girls too could be seen walking or cycling to their respective schools, all easily identifiable by the colour of their school uniforms.
I soon reached Heeren Street , flanked mostly with Peranakan shop houses.
Glowing red lanterns adorned the front porch of some houses and the faint light and fragrance of lighted joss sticks that filtered through the fissures of wooden doors and windows were clear indication that the residents were already up and about. The tranquility of the morning was broken by the click of hooves and squeak of wheels and ahead of me the dawn light revealed a cart drawn by a lone buffalo and laden with sawn timber plodding languidly along a road virtually free of traffic.
The sight triggered a memory; memory of a story father told us about his school days when he had to walk bare foot all the way from Bukit Rambai to St. Francis Institution at Bandar Hilir ( a distance of about eleven kilometers)
After school, when the day was hot and humid, my sister and I would make our way to an ice vendor whose push cart was stationed a short distance from the Tranquerah police station. We would usually buy ice ball which was shaved ice pressed into the shape of a ball and generously doused with red syrup and condensed milk.
We would hold the ice ball in the palm of one hand and suck at the icy treat until the palm was numb with cold and then transfer it to the other palm. When we had drained the sweet content of the ice ball, we would stealthily slip the remain of the plain ice into an open drain.
The late afternoon air would echo to the sound of 'tock, tock' as the assistant to a wonton mee seller beat a rhythmic note on two short sticks to announce the arrival of the mee seller who followed behind with a cart.
As dusk slipped into night a solitary figure carrying a Chinese stringed instrument and a dimly-lit lamp could be seen walking along the road in the gathering darkness. We heard he was a strolling minstrel who would reveal his client's fortune through his song.
At night the main door which was usually left unlatched throughout the day would finally be bolted and we would study or do our homework in the silence of the reception hall, oblivious to the ongoing outside the house.
My wife and friends have already purchased their putu piring and more customers are queueing up in front of the brightly-lit shop. However, on the opposite side of the road, darkness is slowly enveloping the shop houses, but there is still no sign of my makko's house.
Where a stately Peranakan house once stood and white, sandy beach stretched to the open sea, all that remain now are the nostalgic memories of a retiree.
Related article:
Click below link
Melaka my hometown: Treasured moments of yesteryear
Melaka, Batu Berendam: In nature's embrace
 |
| The proprietor steaming the putu piring |
While they are busy watching the proprietor preparing the putu piring , I let my gaze travel back and forth along the length of the shop houses on the opposite side of the road. I remember, one of the shop houses used to be the residence of my eldest auntie or Makko Seh. She had graciously provided temporary accommodation to my sister, Janet and I , as we had already being enrolled at the Methodist Girls' School and Malacca High School, while we waited for other family members to join us after father's retirement.
I remember our auntie's house was a typical two-storied Peranakan shop house. When the Dutch ruled Malacca in the 17th century deeds were issued to the house owners and taxes were levied according to the width of the house frontage. Although the house frontage was relatively narrow, it was compensated by the length of the house which usually extends to about sixty feet.
The ground floor had a centrally placed wooden door with rectangular windows on both sides of the door. The main door led to a richly furnished reception hall (thia beseh). The faint light that streamed through the windows revealed ornately carved rosewood tables and chairs lining both sides of the hall while a round marble top table ( tok bulat) occupied the centre of the hall. A portrait of my paternal grandfather, painted by my cousin, Akuh Dol, and mounted on an ornate metal frame adorned one side of the wall.
After the reception hall was a fairly small, dimly lit hall ( thia kechik or thia gelap) with a flight of wooden steps that led to the hall and bedrooms on the first floor. As the young nyonya were forbidden to be seen in public, they would peep at the visiting guests from the dark recesses of the hall.
Father told us there was a peep hole on the wooden floor board of the master bedroom and so one fine day we made a search for it and discovered the coin-sized peep hole located directly above the round table in the reception hall. The strategically placed peep hole allowed the marriageable nyonya to have a glimpse of their prospective suitors and other guests. Father also told us in his days the young nyonya had to be transported in a sedan chair when they wanted to go from one house to another. The sedan chair was a simple contraption which consisted of a chair secured to a long pole and borne on the shoulders of two male bearers. A large piece of cloth was used to shield the nyonya from prying eyes. We were told the nyonya had to hold tightly to the pole to keep them from falling off from the swaying chair.
 |
| A simple sedan chair |
After the thia kechik was a courtyard( chim chae ) with a disused well and a bathroom equipped with tap water. On one side of the courtyard was a covered corridor which led to an adjoining kitchen. A wooden couch was sited under the covered way and it was here that my makko and my cousin tachi Geok Eng would spend most part of the day, talking in low whispers, as they while away the hours.
The courtyard and the adjoining kitchen, we were told, were the heart of the Peranakan household in the old days. It was here the bibik and nyonya would congregate and over cups (changkay) of Chinese tea, regularly topped up from a porcelain teapot (teko), they would chat and gossip until it was time to prepare lunch or dinner.
 |
| Peranakan porcelain teapot and tea cups |
In its halcyon days, on festive occasion, the place would be a hive of activity as the hired cook ( chong po) assisted by the bibik and nyonya worked at feverish pace to whip up delectable Peranakan dishes such as pongteh, ayam buah keluak, itik tim, sek bak, chap chai and other mouth-watering dishes. The dishes would be laid out meticulously on a long table (tok Panjang); a feast for the eyes and palate.
In my mind's eyes I can picture the place echoing to the rhythmic pounding of pestles on mortars ( lesong batu) which blended with the grating sound of stone grinders ( batu giling) as ingredients and spices were pounded or ground into fine paste.
 |
| Lesong batu |
 |
Batu giling
Photo courtesy of Peter Yong
|
The cacophony of sounds that mingled with the incessant chatters and friendly banters of the bibik and the spontaneous outpouring of incomprehensible words from an elderly bibik who was prone to melatah added further merriment to the festive air. Amidst the culinary activities a scream of "Eh, ada banyak kechuak dalam chiwan" wafted from a nearby bathroom. It was just a Peranakan saying "Eh, there are plenty of cockroaches in the bathroom," in the Baba patois.
The kitchen adjoined the rear kitchen of another small house whose front overlooked a white, sandy beach and the open sea. The house was occupied by Girlie and her mum, a Portuguese family, who always kept their house spick and span. To reach the beach, we had to walk through their house and although the friendly couple welcomed us to use their house we felt a sense of guilt after our walk as we would inevitably leave grains of sand on their well-swept floor. Occasionally, we would follow our makko to the beach whenever she wanted to buy fresh fish from the fishermen. We would wait on the beach for the fishermen to bring in their day's catch. As soon as the boat berthed at the water's edge, our makko would hurry to purchase the fresh ikan parang, ikan bulu ayam or other fish, while we watched from afar. Using their culinary skills our makko and tachi Geok Eng would prepare savoury Peranakan dishes whose flavour still tingle my taste buds after all these years.
A Monday morning in the mid 1950s found me walking along Tranquerah Road, with a tinge of apprehension, as I headed towards Bandar Hilir for my first day at Malacca High School. Other boys and girls too could be seen walking or cycling to their respective schools, all easily identifiable by the colour of their school uniforms.
I soon reached Heeren Street , flanked mostly with Peranakan shop houses.
 |
| Houses along Heeren Street ( Jalan Tun Tan Cheng Lock) |
 |
| Peranakan shop houses along Heeren Street |
Glowing red lanterns adorned the front porch of some houses and the faint light and fragrance of lighted joss sticks that filtered through the fissures of wooden doors and windows were clear indication that the residents were already up and about. The tranquility of the morning was broken by the click of hooves and squeak of wheels and ahead of me the dawn light revealed a cart drawn by a lone buffalo and laden with sawn timber plodding languidly along a road virtually free of traffic.
 |
A buffalo cart that used to ply Tranquerah Road
Photo credit KK
|
The sight triggered a memory; memory of a story father told us about his school days when he had to walk bare foot all the way from Bukit Rambai to St. Francis Institution at Bandar Hilir ( a distance of about eleven kilometers)
After school, when the day was hot and humid, my sister and I would make our way to an ice vendor whose push cart was stationed a short distance from the Tranquerah police station. We would usually buy ice ball which was shaved ice pressed into the shape of a ball and generously doused with red syrup and condensed milk.
 |
An iceball ( air batu kepal)
Photo courtesy of Peter Yong
|
We would hold the ice ball in the palm of one hand and suck at the icy treat until the palm was numb with cold and then transfer it to the other palm. When we had drained the sweet content of the ice ball, we would stealthily slip the remain of the plain ice into an open drain.
 |
| A vendor selling shaved ice ball |
The late afternoon air would echo to the sound of 'tock, tock' as the assistant to a wonton mee seller beat a rhythmic note on two short sticks to announce the arrival of the mee seller who followed behind with a cart.
 |
A wan tan mee vendor
Photo courtesy of Peter Yong
|
As dusk slipped into night a solitary figure carrying a Chinese stringed instrument and a dimly-lit lamp could be seen walking along the road in the gathering darkness. We heard he was a strolling minstrel who would reveal his client's fortune through his song.
At night the main door which was usually left unlatched throughout the day would finally be bolted and we would study or do our homework in the silence of the reception hall, oblivious to the ongoing outside the house.
My wife and friends have already purchased their putu piring and more customers are queueing up in front of the brightly-lit shop. However, on the opposite side of the road, darkness is slowly enveloping the shop houses, but there is still no sign of my makko's house.
 |
| Customers waiting to purchase putu piring |
Where a stately Peranakan house once stood and white, sandy beach stretched to the open sea, all that remain now are the nostalgic memories of a retiree.
Related article:
Click below link
Melaka my hometown: Treasured moments of yesteryear
Melaka, Batu Berendam: In nature's embrace
Melaka, Batu Berendam: Memories of kampung shops
