She came from China as a young woman. There were several young ladies all from the same province in Kwantung. They did not know anything about the world beyond their small villages, and were frightened to death during the journey. When they arrived at their destination they had made a pact among themselves never to get married or start a family, so that they might look after one another until the end. They were sworn to each other as Swan Sisters, and were never to cut their hair unless they got married.

Now there was only Lau Mak ("old mother")--bent over and withered and shrunken to half her adult size. She was nearly blind with cataracts covering over both eyes, and several times lately she had fallen into the gutters as she was going out to beg at the temple.

Two had returned to live in China in their natal villages, the rest had passed away. She couldn't remember how long ago. There were only three other old women left, but all of them had long since cut their hair and had grown children and grandchildren. She had only two goddaughters who never brought her anything good to eat except the youngest one. Her only concern now was that she would get the proper burial when the time came, that she would not be cast anonymously into a pauper's grave without the proper rituals having been performed.

She was always a stickler for the proper rites. Many people used to come and ask her to pray for them, as she knew the proper way to do these things and she never asked for a lot of money. But she still remembered the proper way of praying and she prayed everyday.

The black smoke of the charcoal curled up as she fanned the flames to the ceiling beams that were tar black from the many years of cooking. The walls were all darkened too, and a diffuse sunlight put everything in the kitchen in a world of shadow. She had lived in this old house all her life, since she was a young girl. Her goddaughter had wanted to put her in a home but she wouldn't know what to do there or how to cook for herself.

This house was the center of her life and her world. For more than twenty years she had slept with the others in the front hall on tables made of wooden planks set upon old saw horses. She kept her possessions stacked on the table against the wall, or hung in plastic bags from nails driven into the concrete wall. Tins and food were stacked on the planks beneath her bed, and she used clothes in a plastic bag for a pillow. Her valuables--her gold and jade jewelry--she had hidden in a plastic tin in the very corner of a pile of odds and ends. But her gold chain with the jade monkey pendant she always wore, and when she ever took it off she had a secret hiding place in the wood beneath the planks of the table which nobody knew about.

She had bought a lot of gold over the years. She only bought the purest, 24-carat gold. The tin box was now too heavy for her to lift. But of all her valuables, her gold chain was the most precious to her.

Many people knew about her tin full of gold, but nobody even knew about the necklace, as it was long and always lay hidden beneath her blouse.

She had found it many years ago at the home she had worked at just after the War. She had kept it close by her side all those years and hadn't told a single person. It was a newly constructed terrace house and directly behind it in the compound was a small heap of rubbish.

The master of the house was a Chinese businessman who had wanted one sunny day to plant a garden on the spot. He figured he could get rid of the rubbish heap and transform the spot into a nice garden patch. He bought a spade and had his Amah dig up the ground to plant seeds.

She remembered how angry she was at how she had to get her hands so dirty. But planting the garden gave a great sense of satisfaction. It was after she had spade up some earth that she noticed something in the dirt. It was half buried in the fresh mud and rubble that had been turned over with a spade. At first she thought it was a worm but it didn't move, so she crouched down and pulled it up anyway. It was heavy as it hung from her hand. She brushed off some of the dirt and saw it glint golden in the sun. She didn't think what to do then but she quickly put it into the inner pocket of her blouse.

She dared not think about it until she went back home that night and locked herself in the shower and took off her clothes and washed it off. From that day forward it rarely left her body.

Not long afterward, just as the seedlings were beginning to sprout up through the dirt, the mistress of the house had become angry with her. She did not know why she had gotten so angry. But she was sent off without her final pay.

She never saw the family again, and remembered hearing that the businessman suddenly died of a heart attack one day, leaving his wife and children with many unsettled debts.

But that was many years ago and now she could only smile as she pressed the necklace to her chest through her blouse. The water in the rice pot was beginning to boil and she just barely managed to slip a small tin pot of a piece of potato and a chicken neck to steam in the large cooking pot of rice.

Her goddaughter came to visit her just as she had finished her bowl of rice with the potato and chicken-neck. Her goddaughter had brought her two steamed dumplings. She told her goddaughter that she had just eaten and was not hungry. She called her goddaughter affectionately "si lok" (dead prostitute) and asked why she came. She took the broom and began to sweep the kitchen floor, pretending not to notice the goddaughter's little girl child. The goddaughter went back to the front room and sat down and began fanning herself as she talked with the other old ladies.

She remembered the first family she worked for before the War. It was a big family. The Towkay was a middle-aged businessman who was always out. She liked the children, all young girls, but not the mother who was strict and mean.

One day the father was home early when the mother had taken the children out for the afternoon. He was drinking a bottle of stout and smoking a cigarette. He started getting fresh with her, touching her on the legs and behind when she was standing nearby. She was frightened but didn't know what to do. She acted like she didn't notice anything as he asked her to go upstairs with him. She told him she left something boiling in the kitchen and fled out the back door, never returning.

The next family was the best. It was a large four-story home. The floors were of marble tile that she loved to keep clean because of the way they shinned and looked so beautiful that she was afraid to walk on them. They had three children. The youngest was a little girl.

She worked for this family many years and the girl became quite attached to her because her own mother paid her little attention and her brothers always scolded her. Lau Mak grew to favor the little girl as if she was her own daughter, and the father one day made Lau Mak the girl's god-mother.

One morning the sirens sounded. There were rumors that the Japanese were coming. They all ran outside and could see the planes like little birds in the distance. They got closer and people were running all about in the streets. There was a pop, pop, pop of guns firing and then a loud explosion. So loud and deafening it was that she had never heard such a terrifying thing before. They all ran back inside and grabbed the children and hid in the back of the house. Several more explosions, one sounding very close by, and then it grew quiet again.

They were all too frightened to know what to do. They slowly opened the front door and there was smoke from a fire that filled the street. People were running all about and shouting. Bodies lay in the street. People shouted to them to run to the hills. Not knowing what else to do they quickly grabbed the children and ran out into the street toward the hills. They did not think to take food or clothes with them, and left the house door open. Lau Mak carried the little girl piggy back, and the mother had her two sons by the wrist as they hurried along the main road with all the other people. They saw people bleeding and lying dead in the gutter along the way. Buildings were on fire and black smoke filled the air.

Lau Mak didn't know what to do after that. People were saying that the Japanese were coming and they would rape all the young women. She and the others grew frightened and they went off into the jungle to hide. They stayed there several months, too afraid to return. They found other people there. Mostly there were young women like her self.

At first they had no food, and after a few days they began to get quite hungry. Someone had shown them how to dig roots to boil and to pick some leaves with which to make a bitter tasting tea. People began catching little lizards to boil also, and someone else had brought a small bag of sugar that everyone mixed with their tea.

Then a man came who told them about a place where there was food over the hill on the other side of the Island, and he would show them the way. They gathered themselves and walked through the jungle until they came to a small trail. They followed this trail as it wound back and forth over the crest of the mountain ridge, and down again.

She remembered being tired, and hungry and hot. She remembered being thirsty but there being no water to drink. She recalled stopping shortly on top of the hill to see the beautiful blue ocean and white clouds, and the southern half of the island and the fishing boats and the water glinting in the sun. She had never seen anything more beautiful or peaceful before or since. But she hurried on to catch up with the others.

It was a small clearing by a large stream. She remembered staying on there for several months and eating only tapioca and bananas and coconuts. Once in a while someone would bring a few small fish, but it was never enough. They grew quite skinny and many people began to fall sick with fever and the runs.

They heard rumors as new people came and told them that the Japanese had come and taken control and everything was settled down. Finally one day another man came and told them to come back down to the town because everything was peaceful and they would be safe because the Japanese would not harm them.

So they all took the trail again and she couldn't wait to get to the top to see the ocean again. They rested on the top of the hill for almost an hour, and then came down the other side.

She heard her goddaughter's voice talking to her from the front hall. She finished sweeping the kitchen floor and put the broom away. She came back into the front room and pulled a small basket down from the wall. In it she kept some apples and oranges someone had given to her. She gave the little girl an apple and an orange and a couple of pieces of hard candy she found at the bottom of the bag. She smiled at the little girl and called to it. "Come, come" but the little girl was too afraid of her and hid behind her mother.

She was afraid of the Japanese and avoided them as much as possible. She went to work washing clothes for the Japanese officers. She worked everyday from early in the morning until late at night. She ironed and starched the uniforms with heavy brass iron heated with charcoal. She was unscrupulously clean and the Japanese soon came to prefer her to wash their clothes, and they even came to show her respect and bow their heads to her. While she worked for the Japanese she had rice and fish to eat, while most people had only tapioca. But she remembered working hard everyday until her hands were raw and red and her samfoo was drenched with sweat.

After the Japanese left she went to work for her second goddaughter's family. They had only one girl child and the mother was too lazy to cook or clean. The father was a young lawyer and they lived in a large two-story home. She only worked a few years for this family, until one day the mother began scolding her and accusing her of stealing her things.

Her first and second goddaughters never came to see her anymore. Several years ago the first goddaughter started to come to see her every week, bringing her food to eat. Then she came every day for about a week, until one day she asked her if she could borrow some money from her godmother. She knew her godmother had saved all her money and had kept more than 20 thousand dollars in an account.

Lau Mak had saved every penny she earned and never bought anything for herself, not even food. She had never earned very much but managed to save enough to buy a grave plot and to give herself the proper funeral when she died. Now her first-god daughter was asking for half of her life-savings so that they could start a hawking business. She gave her the money and the Goddaughter thanked her and made promises to her that she would see to her burial when shed died. She returned a couple of more days and then never returned.

The same thing happened with the second goddaughter. She came and told her that no one would arrange her funeral after she died, so that she should put her account in both their names so that the second god-daughter could be able to take the money out when the time came. After that she did not see her second god-daughter for several weeks, until one day she found out that her second god-daughter had taken most of the other half of her savings out in order to put a down on a new flat for her family. She did not see her second goddaughter for over a year. Then one day she came with food and acted very proud, and told her she would pay the money back into the account. She left and came to bring her food only a few times afterward.

But her youngest goddaughter came to see her almost every week, and always brought something good for her to eat. Now she had her own daughter and Lau Mak got out her tin of gold and opened it and took out a little red purse. Inside there was a gold pendant and chain she had bought for her third goddaughter's girl child. She gave the little girl the purse and the mother made the girl fold her arms and thank her Lau Mak for it.

She worked for her third goddaughter's family the longest. Those were the happiest days of her life and she remembered when the mother brought her goddaughter home in a Langchan from the hospital. She raised the goddaughter everyday like she was her own, though she was now too old to think of having her own children anymore. The father was an accountant and was quite successful. The mother was Nonya-lang and always had people visiting her house, staying with them and eating meals with them. The family made Lau Mak feel as if she belonged as a member, and she was never scolded or reprimanded or ordered about like in the other houses where she had worked.

They were good to her and she worked many years for this family and watched her goddaughter grow up. He was made her godmother at her first year birthday. The occasion was the proudest day of her life.

The goddaughter used to make her Lau Mak carry her piggy-back whenever they would go to the market. Lau Mak didn't mind at all. Lau Mak watched her go-daughter grow up into a young woman in that Kampong house.

Things changed after the father suddenly died of a heart attack. The goddaughter was then in secondary school and there was little Lau Mak had to do any more. A few years later the mother died of cancer, and the house was sold off to developers who built a large office complex on the spot.

After that Lau Mak worked occasionally for a few homes, but never for very long. She was getting old and mostly remained close to her own home. People would come to her and pay her a little bit so that she would show them how to pray to exorcise evil spirits and cure sickness.

Now she would spend her days begging at the temple close by. Since she had no more savings left, she begged for money to buy her food with. Twice a month she and her friend would go down to get the rice and canned food distributed to older people. They would have to wait in line in the hot sun several hours, and would walk all the way.

She loved to see her third goddaughter and her girl child when she came to visit. It made her happy so she beamed from ear to ear. But she acted as if she didn't care, and would go about her business cleaning the house and hanging her clothes outside to dry in the sun. Soon the goddaughter left, and Lau Mak felt alone once again.

A young Indian street-boy had found her body slumped over the gutter by the temple early in the morning. The day before she had taken off her gold necklace with the jade-monkey pendant and had hidden it away in her secret place under the table. She didn't know why she did it, but only that she felt too tired to wear it anymore. The boy didn't think to check her for her belongings, as he was too frightened by the sight of her death. A crowd had soon gathered around and someone eventually called a policeman, or else a policeman had just happened by. He cleared the crowd back from the body and called into the station. Detectives arrived and some of the people who recognized her long gray hair and black silk pants and blue blouse, identified her.

By the time the third goddaughter had heard the news and went to take care of her god-mum's valuables, the second goddaughter was already there and the tin of gold was already missing. The second goddaughter had her husband and her son with her. They would not look at her in the face but only said that they did not want any of the godmother's old belongings and that they did not have enough money to cover the cost of the funeral arrangements. They gave her fifty dollars and left without saying anything more.

The third goddaughter rummaged through Lau Mak's old things. She couldn't find her tin of gold, and discovered that someone had already taken it. The other old women said that the second goddaughter had put it in her purse. One was asleep, turned toward the wall, the other one sat upon her table looking sad. The third, youngest woman busied herself in the kitchen and would not come out to talk.

She did not know what to do with all these old things. She gave the clothes and tins and plastic things to the other women of the house. They said nothing but thanked her for them. She found Lau Mak's old wooden-tooth comb in another small tin, along with a few odds and ends--buttons, a key, a pair of scissors. This tin she put into her purse. She threw away the old bags and straw basket that always held the fruit.

Once she had cleared off the tabletop, she began to take boards off the sawhorses and stack them against the wall. It was then that she discovered in a hole in the edge of a plank the secret hiding place and the gold chain wrapped in a silk handkerchief. She unwrapped the silk and saw the beautiful necklace. She had never seen anything like it before and never knew that her Lau Mak kept it on her body most of her life. She started to cry. She put it in her purse as well, and finished clearing off the tabletop.

The next day, as her body lay in state and a few old people came to sit and talk, when no one was watching the third god-daughter slipped the handkerchief with her gold chain beneath her Lau Mak's pillow as she lay stiffly in the casket.

The goddaughter could not afford much of a funeral. It was all she could do to take a couple of day's sick leave from her factory job and to take money out of her own savings to cover the balance of the cost of the casket and the funeral, but the third goddaughter didn't mind as she loved her Lau Mak as if she were her own mother. Lau Mak had already bought a grave plot for herself. She bought a simple casket and hired a small band and troupe of young men to help carry the casket.

The young men shouldered the heavy pole holding her small coffin as they walked up the hill road leading to the cemetery. The musicians in front played their drums and horn and cymbals and a boy cast hell money out to the wind. The going was not so rough as the coffin was small, like a child's, and not heavy. Only one goddaughter walked behind, with her daughter and her husband. She didn't know why she was crying, only that's what she felt like doing. Dark clouds had rolled up from behind the hills and it had begun to rain lightly by the time they had reached the open grave. Old people say that when it rains the ghosts are crying. The casket was lifted into the grave and it was covered over.

The goddaughter would return every year during Chang Bang to clear off her Lau Mak's grave. It was a small modest plot set up high upon a hill in the middle of the cemetery. She would bring food, a few red turtles and some tea and some paper articles to burn and send to heaven so that Lau Mak would have things and be happy there. She would sit with her daughter and tell her stories about her own childhood and her Lau Mak, and they would sing songs and laugh and joke together.

Blanket Copyright, Hugh M. Lewis, © 2005. Use of this text governed by fair use policy--permission to make copies of this text is granted for purposes of research and non-profit instruction only.