Baba
Cuttle fish and bengkong
Obat and taboos for an expectant mother|
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Baba
Cuttle fish and bengkong Obat and taboos for an expectant mother |
| I WAS BORN on an August morning
in 1912 and was delivered at home by a Malay midwife By present day standards it would be totally unthinkable to have a delivery at home, much less by a midwife whose only claim to a professional qualification was her practical experience. But conditions and beliefs were vastly different then. It was customary in my parents' family and in most Baba families to have one's baby delivered at home. Full confidence in the modern ways had not come our way yet. Mother herself would never have wanted it any other way. She had absolute trust in this midwife who had on previous occasions efficiently delivered two of her children before me. In her mid-thirties the midwife was neither too young and inexperienced nor too old, when her eyesight and hands might be suspect for the job. In fact, she was in her prime. It was also desirable to deliver at home as one's elderly folks could be around to boost one's morale and lend a helping hand when the need arose. Thus, mother had the reassuring presence of her mother to grip her hands and wipe the sweat from her brow as she laboured to deliver me, her youngest daughter. Like all expectant mothers of that era, mother did not go through much of prenatal medical care. It was roughly about a month or so before the expected date of delivery that grandma had invited midwife Kak Sapriah to examine mother. Kak Sapriah was not her actual name. Her name was Sapriah and the prefix Kak, an abbreviation for Kakak, meaning elder sister, was the polite form used while addressing a young Malay lady. Had she been older we would have addressed her as Wak Sapriah instead. Wak in this case would be the abbreviation for Wawak, a polite form of address reserved especially for an elderly lady. In response to grandma's call Kak Sapriah had come, checked mother physically and confirmed that her next visit, in about a month's time, should be to deliver the child. Generally, professional prenatal care was a simple affair of a single visit by the midwife. But prenatal self-care was a different matter altogether. Long before the midwife was summoned, from the day her pregnancy was confirmed by herself, mother had to observe several pantang or taboos religiously. For example, in order to prevent a difficult childbirth she had to avoid consuming cuttlefish head, most importantly, the tentacles. Another particular variety of seafood she had to avoid eating was the stingray. The taboo also indicated that both mother as well as father should refrain from nailing any object or using cement to patch up cracked or broken structures. Mother must exercise the utmost care to avoid a shock, take a whiff of smelling salt, or shift her bed or other furniture because a miscarriage could well be the unfortunate outcome. Playing with or being frightened by a monkey was probably the ultimate of pantang as it would inevitably result in a child born with strong simian features and characteristics. A pregnant woman was not expected to attend any wedding because her presence could adversely affect the future of the couple, resulting in a barren and an unhappy union for them. |
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All these taboos were strictly observed by mother for more reasons than mere obedience to tradition. She had witnessed for herself enough examples of the dire consequences that had befallen those who had, knowingly or unknowingly, defied the pantang, to be convinced that it did not pay to take them lightly. Similarly, she never missed her monthly dose of obat selusoh which she had to take from the fifth month of her pregnancy. Obat selusoh was not a specific recipe but a general term for several combinations of herbs taken to ensure easy childbirth. Some families preferred recipes from Malay sources while others found the Chinese versions more efficacious. Mother's choice fell on a particular Chinese recipe given to her by an elderly relative whose family had sworn by it for two generations. In fact, during her last couple of pregnancies mother had used this same recipe which contained not less than eleven ingredients, one of which was glutinous rice. For this reason our family recipe was known to us as obat selusoh pulot, the last name being the Malay word for glutinous rice. Father patronised a Chinese druggist at Rumah Panjang, our name for Rochore Road, to have this prescription filled at the cost of 40 cents. Except for this medicine mother took no other tonic or vitamins during her pregnancy. Even if she had wanted to grandma would have put her foot down. She would have reminded mother that her normal diet was sufficient to supply all the nourishment necessary for the foetus. It would be further pointed out that, especially in this delicate state of health, she must not risk creating complications by taking unnecessary medicines. The fact that all my four elder brothers and one elder sister had been born healthy without the use of such medicines was proof enough. Perhaps it was due to her uncomplicated diet that mother did not suffer any troublesome symptoms when expecting me. She only had the tendency to feel sleepy during the first couple of months. After that it was all plain sailing. On the day of my birth, the moment mother felt the first pang of labour pain a domestic help was immediately despatched to summon the midwife. At that time my parents were staying at Wilkie Road and the midwife's house was just round the comer at Selegie Road. Within thirty minutes or so she had come, accompanied by an assistant, the anak dukun. The more important task of delivery and the bathing of the baby belonged to the midwife while the less important and more menial tasks fell to the lot of the assistant. These duties included the daily washing of soiled linen, the smoking of the patient and the massage followed by the tying of the cloth girdle round the patient's waist. The assistant's duties lasted a full month whereas the midwife's responsibilities ended the day the baby's umbilical cord dropped of. Immediately after I was born the placenta was collected and placed in a special container known as the periok uri. This was a round bottomed earthenware pot with a wide neck and a cover. The pot, with its contents, was placed near my head for three days after which father took it to the nearest river to throw away. At the riverbank he cracked the pot with the handle of a knife so that water could seep in to cause it to sink.
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| The moment he had released
the pot into the water he was
required to walk away without glancing back, because if he did, 1 would
have ended with squint eyes. The fact, that I had already been born
with a pair of normal eyes would not have made any difference. If
father had succumbed to temptation and looked back to check if the pot
had sunk, I would have suddenly developed a squint. Happily father did
not fail in this all important assignment. Every morning following the delivery, the two Malay ladies arrived at about eight to perform their separate duties. While I was getting my daily bath from the midwife, mother was attended to by the assistant who began preparing a charcoal burner. A special incense obtained from Indian grocer shops was then burned in this stove. We called this seng soo or by its other name kemenian serani (Eurasian Benzoin) for we believed that this preparation was burned in Catholic churches frequented by the Eurasian community. For this treatment mother had to stand with her legs wide apart and the smoking burner was placed on the ground between her legs. Since she was wearing a sarong the rising aromatic smoke completely engulfed her with its cleansing effect. Mother was required to stand as long as there were fumes rising from the burner. While she was being 'smoked' the assistant busied herself by preparing a lotion for the ensuing massage. This was made up of roundish black balls of herbs, again obtainable from Indian grocers. These small medicaments were dispersed in brandy and slowly heated in an earthenware cooking pot known as a belanga. This lotion was used to massage the forehead, the stomach and the limbs. After this rubdown, a bengkong was tied round the waist. The length of white cotton material required for this cloth girdle measured no less than 10m (12 yds) with an approximate width of 45 cm (18 inches). It was wound round the body repeatedly and each time the ends met in front a knot was tied. The final outcome of this continuous encirclement of the waistline and the tying of knots was a tight fitting girdle which could not slip off. Following this operation the assistant proceeded to wash mother's clothes and soiled linen before her chores were over for the day. One week after birth my umbilical cord dropped off. On that day Kak Sapriah performed her last two duties: one on me and the other on mother. The chuchi rantay ceremony was reserved for me. Although the words mean 'washing a chain', there was no washing of anything at all. What she did was to place flowers on a plate together with grains of uncooked rice stained with seven colours and three differently coloured balls of dough. With this plate placed before me she muttered a prayer of thanksgiving and blessing over me. Her final duty to mother was to carefully push the womb back into position. This operation was called sengkak. After this the midwife no longer visited us. For all her services arid that of her assistant till then, she was paid $10. In addition, she received a bonus of $2 as transport fee although she only had a five-minute stroll to reach our home. For the rest of the month the assistant was retained under a separate arrangement. In addition to her regular duties she was required to take over the bathing of the baby and she was paid $6 when her services finally ended on the thirtieth day of my birth. |
| The post delivery period had its fair share of pantang
too. Among the most important, was that mother had to be confined to the
delivery room for thirty days. This was to prevent her from coming into
contact with the elements. In order to minimise exposure, all the doors and windows
of the room were shut all the time. During this period mother was not
allowed to wet any part of her body with water. Her ears were plugged
with cotton wool to further prevent any wind getting into her body and
the brandy massage was her daily bath. To quench thirst, she was served ayer mata kuching. This drink is a sweet concoction made up of the
dried pulp of the longan fruit boiled with fine sugar, a piece of old
ginger and, optionally, some red dates. The ginger had to be specially
prepared. It was initially wrapped in a coarse piece of paper, dipped
in a little water and then buried in the hot ashes at the bottom of a
charcoal stove while it was being used for cooking. When the cooking
was done the packet was then taken out and the wrapping removed. The
ginger was mashed and added into the concoction which was decanted.
Only the filtrate was drunk. As for her meals, mother was also put on a strict health diet. She was not allowed any vegetable or fish in her food. However, before my umbilical cord dropped off grandma permitted a little salted fish floss in her food. After that it was a diet of chicken or pork cooked in sesame oil and ginger for a whole month. One or two days after delivery mother was obliged to take a Chinese herbal preparation we called Bantal Budak (Child's Pillow). This medicine was supposed to rid the body of any residual clotted blood not fully discharged after birth. About a week later it was the turn for a second preparation to be consumed. This consisted of two Chinese herbal pills steamed together. Just before this liquid was drunk the urine of a young boy was added in. This was to assist the body in ridding itself of excess 'dirty' blood. It would be interesting to know how many mothers today would condescend to drink this mixture even for health's sake. Mother drank it. So did the generations of mothers before her. Every nonya of old realised the importance of postnatal care: in fact, it was deemed far more important than prenatal care. Failure to appreciate this resulted in the dreaded bentan, any general ailment that came about after childbirth. Such ailments might not be a problem under normal circumstances but after giving birth, it would hit the patient hard and take a longer time to cure. Furthermore, bentan had a latent side effect which would surface in middle age as vague aches and pains all over the body. The name for this was angin beranak or 'afterbirth wind'. Extreme care was therefore taken to avoid bentan, including such a bizarre one as to avoid hurting one's big toes during the thirty days' confinement. A month after I was born, mother took her first step out of the delivery room. It was the day she had her first bath since childbirth. Ketumbar (coriander), sireh (betel vine) leaves, and red onions were boiled in water and the liquid strained before being used for this bath. From then onwards, she was given freedom of movement round the house but she was still considered not clean enough to visit temples or attend weddings. She had to wait a further fortnight before she was allowed to resume full social activities. Because I happened to be a girl and not the first-born child, father was not obliged to host a celebration when I was one month old. Otherwise he would have celebrated it on a lavish scale, especially if I had been a boy. It would have been nothing less man a poh piah (spring roll) party and if it had not been possible to hold it on the first month men it would have been held on the fourth month instead. |
| In any case, boy or girl,
party or none, certain age old rituals had to
be observed when a baby became one month old. Grandma shaved me bald to
stimulate new growth of hair later on. A coconut was used as a
receptacle for my baby hair. First, a hole was made in the nut to drain
away the milk. Next, the shaven hair was placed in the nut through the
hole and a sprig of spring-onion and a stalk of bunga siantan, the
ixora flower, were used to plug the hole. This decorated receptacle was
then thrown away. Dressed in beautiful clothes, I was taken before our
household deity to pay my respects for the first time. With the help of
grandma my two little hands were clasped in worship to give thanks for
my safe deliver)' into this world. Grandma muttered the thanksgiving
prayer on my behalf. Close relatives then came to congratulate my
parents and to present gold ornaments to me. from "A Nonya mosaic - My mother's childhood" by Gwee Thian Hock, published in1953. by permission of the author Comments Tan Lye Hoe The article is well written and the customs described are like those that we have in Penang. I have the following to add: The pantang about the monkey reminds me of my grandmother telling me that when my mother was pregnant she was frightened by a money that had jumped into our air well. The result was that my father, normal in most respects, exhibited the characteristics of a money and was constantly jumping about. The expectant mother must not eat crab for fear the child will be born with a crooked mind and will touch things he is not supposed to touch, i.e. he be born with “itchy fingers”. She should not eat lamb or goat meat for fear of epilepsy. I have not heard of the ceremony of the placenta. KH and friends She must not pull out grass and other plants with roots or she will have a miscarriage |
| Cuttle fish includes octopus She should not go to a park to watch animals She must not go into a bride's room or watch the ceremony of putting on the bride's veil for this may bring misfortune to the couple e.g. the break-up of the marriage or being childless. The same will happen if the expectant mother escorts the bridegroom to the door to fetch his bride; nor should she escort the bride out of the room to meet the bridegroom. She must not do a cross-stitch or else her baby will have six toes on each foot or suffer from some other defect. The husband must not build a pigeon house when the wife is pregnant for fear the baby will be born without a penis or a vagina. A pregnant woman must not point out a person's ugliness or that he was born with a defect or else her baby will be born with defects Koay Soo Kau If a woman wants an easy birth the doors the cupboards in the house must be kept open Tan Phek Choo An expectant mother should not sit on her bed to cut sewing materials with scissors as she risks having a child with a hair-lip (cleft-lip) Go to the top |
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