above the jungle mist - preview
PROLOGUE
1851
Steely blue eyes eyed the approaching host, noting his fair skin and broad forehead.
Directing his words through a linguist, the British Resident Councillor of Penang beamed and said as he halted, ‘Herr Georg Müller, I believe. How do you do? Are you enjoying our idyllic isle?’
Guests and officials were mingling at the colonial administration’s social soiree on the pristine green at Fort Cornwallis, the bulwark on George Town’s foreshore. Vessels, slight and vast, bobbed in the strait as a cool breeze flitted off the water, rustling the palms. It was a serene evening.
Müller brought his heels together and issued a sharp tilt of his crown, before responding, ‘Schön, Sie kennenzulernenOberbürgermeister Blundell. There are vermögen ... er... ach, fortunes ... to make here, so I like it.’
The administrator waved the interpreter away. He cocked an eye. ‘Only here to create wealth? What about planting roots?’
‘Nein, nein, vhen I have my riches, I vill return to the Vaterland…,’ the trader asserted, before uttering rashly, ‘… unless….’ He stalled, curious if his words would overstep the mark.
‘Unless?’ prompted the Englishman, lifting his glass of sherry and sipping from it.
The German hesitated, then stated, ‘… unless the isle becomes a Deutscher Bund possession.’
The settlement’s chief counsel choked and verged on coughing up the contents of his throat. He gulped, stiffened and declared with indignation, ‘Hah! Preposterous! Sir, that won’t ever happen!’
Miffed, Georg squinted through his wobbling monocle. ‘And vhy not?’
‘That, Herr Müller, is outrageous! First, Great Britain commands the waves in Asia and the Malacca Strait. And second, the Germans don’t understand the local dwellers, nor want to. It’s a blasted sticky wicket, but at least we try.’
‘Regardless, a proud German’s core and loyalty vill always be with Germania. I see no need to engage with the loutish savages beyond that essential for business!’
‘I submit, sir, such prejudice will lead you nowhere.’
1937
The great grandson of Georg Müller gazed into the eyes of a Eurasian lass. ‘I love you, Shu Mei.’
The girl, who effused a fragrance of orchids, hushed softly, ‘And I you, Daniel, with all my heart.’
CHAPTER 1
Isle of the Betel Nut Palm
Penang was a balmy cay in the Malacca Strait. In the sweet lilting native tongue of Malay, it was called Pulau Pinang or the Isle of the Betel Nut Palm, after the slim, lanky areca palms thriving on it. Like its charming name, the island was an alluring vessel of ethnic diversity - a cauldron where the West met the exotic East.
It rested off the western coast of the Malay Peninsula near the channel’s northern edge, while Singapore sat at its southern end.
….
Soft sandy beaches and lowlands ringed the turtle-shaped island; though its form was closer to the sea animal with its head and legs retracted by three-quarters. Small at 110 square miles, a mountainous, jungle-veiled spine ran north to south smack down its middle, splitting the isle into two halves.
George Town lay at its northeast corner - and its most eastern point - facing Butterworth on the mainland; 3,000 yards across the narrows. If rustling, swaying coconut palms, gentle beaches with lapping waves, and lush rainforest with colourful flowering flora formed the island’s skin, the township was its beating heart. And it showed in the vibrant port. Long before the British set foot on it, the atoll had hosted a kaleidoscope of races and cultures. The exotic medley of ethnicities, customs, and languages and cuisines was a sight to behold.
A visitor confronted different worlds by strolling from one ethnic quarter to another; often as easy as rounding the corner from one road to the next.
….
The Chinese were the majority, followed by the Malays, Indians, and the hybrid races. The Peranakan were a blend of Chinese and Malay; and the Kristang, Eurasians from a mix of Portuguese and Malay. More diverse melds lasted too. They lived beside the British, Arabs and the Japanese.
The common tongues were the Chinese dialect of Hokkien, Malay, with English and Tamil. Most locals were multi-lingual.
The missionary schools taught the King’s or Queen’s English; except most laboured to achieve a Brit’s intonation. But they talked and wrote with correct grammar. On the streets, they flew between the monarch’s speech and its colloquial version depending on the people with whom they spoke. And they moved between lingoes without conscious thought.
The island’s prosperity proved rapid. With it came a sharp surge in the secret societies and gangs. Crime. To say nothing of the dens of infamy. And failing public services, notably, the sewage system.
….
The German influx occurred in the mid-1800s. Eager missionaries arrived, pursued by the merchants and traders. In their wake showed the lawyers, architects, and photographers and artists. The shipping companies such as Norddeutscher Lloyd trailed them. Surnames like Neubronner, Katz, and Gottlieb, with Kaulfuss, Bausum and Wolf, soon surged to eminence. Last, the Jews with clan names such as Zeitlin, Bernstein, and Schwartz came late that century.
Penang grew into a hub. It ensued as the inspiration for the intellectuals from the West and the East. The Eastern & Oriental Hotel, known colloquially as the E&O, became a nest - a haven - of the famed. They included W. Somerset Maugham, Sir Noel Coward and Rudyard Kipling; the German poet Hermann Hesse and novelist Karl May; and Dr Sun Yat-sen, the Chinese philosopher and ‘father’ of modern China.
In time, it gained several delightful sobriquets. The critics lauded it as:
The Pearl of the Orient
and
The Garden of the East
They called the Isle of the Betel Nut Palm home away from home. Or home itself.
CHAPTER 2
The Millers
Daniel Karl Miller was born in 1918 to Hugh and Brigitte Miller. On the hill.
They belonged to the island’s elite, and although their empire was modest compared to magnates such as John D. Rockefeller or Henry Ford, they fared wealthy just the same. Danny or Dan was a scion of the esteemed Müllers, a clan from Regensburg, Bavaria. It had become deep-rooted in Malaya.
By 1936, the eighteen-year-old chocolate-haired youth - once soft and slight - had matured into a fine, square-jawed boyish man with a solid trapezoid frame. Of average height, he stood like a tallish Asian and fancied his hair in the Ivy League style. The ‘short back and sides’.
The midwife at his birth foretold that Daniel - a Horse in the Chinese zodiac - would own the traits of optimism and decency, with a slant towards self-reliance, action and fortitude. He showed none of those characteristics as a callow lad, which led the family to deem the woman deluded. And a dummkopf.
The glitch wasn’t his fault. It arose from conditioning. From the beginning, he suffered a stern, autocratic grandmother and a mother who treated him with apathy, if not antipathy. Likewise, he lived through bullying by his feckless and callous elder brother, who relished it. So, the child grew insecure and fearful.
Despite the tears from his juvenile hazel eyes, Danny’s inward resilience, sixth sense and survival instinct proved his saving grace. Strengths he never knew he possessed back in those dark, grim days.
Daniel’s redeemer was his father. Hugo Johann Müller had changed his name to Hugh John Miller by deed poll the moment he came of legal age. It was much to his parents’ displeasure… and wrath. Ernst and Gerda believed in preserving their German heritage and Lutheran values, and despite their roots in the East, they still saw the old country of Deutschland as their homeland.
Hugh kept to a different philosophy. Born on the island, he felt himself a Malayan. Or a Penangite, a tag that rose to prevalence later. Racial ancestry mattered nought. Since Malaya was their true home - where they lived, worked and reaped their riches - their loyalties ought to be with the colony, and by extension, Britain. They were British subjects after all.
Daniel shared the same mindset, and Hugh’s love and their common bents and interests fostered their father-son bond.
The clan patriarch, Georg, made his money in commodities export of tin and rubber and the import of German technology, leaving the spice trade to his Deutscher compatriots. In due course, his heir Ernst took the helm and held enough sway with the colony’s lords to gain the much-desired plot on ‘The Hill’. He erected a modest cottage on it for their weekend relief from the disagreeable lowland clime. And the ‘savages’.
When the funicular scheme came to fruition, he - Danny’s grandfather Ernst - then built their dedicated hilltop bungalow, having it ready by the time it ran in late 1923. He christened it Berghütte Müller. While Germanic in name, the vast double-storey chalet was English in style, at least externally. It featured granite walls with mortaring finished in white, a French clay tiled roof with generous eaves, and glazed colonial doors and windows. They painted the timber features to match. The old fellow fitted and furnished it inside with Bayerisch opulence. It was grand.
When Ernst succumbed to ill health, his wife Gerda seized the reins and drove the family’s business with an iron fist. By then, they enjoyed a firm and blissful existence on the isle and on Penang Hill, albeit Hugh’s refusal to enter the realm of commerce continued to rile her. Instead, he devoted his labours to serving the community. He was a public works civil engineer.
The puritanical Müller elders ran the household like a tight ship, carrying out most things with customary German precision. Such as the boys’ weekly haircuts occurred on Tuesdays at 4 pm, and the kebuns - gardeners - mowed the lawns at 10 am on a Wednesday fortnightly. They scheduled meals ahead, too. Abendbrot or ‘evening bread’ - dinner - was formal at 6.30 pm sharp to the cuckoo clock imported from Breitnau, a hamlet in the High Black Forest.
Bodo Schultz, their chef, served Bavarian cuisine. Schnitzel mit Kartoffelsalat; Schweinshaxe und Knödel; and Nürnberg Rostbratwurst with bacon, potatoes and herbs in a pan were routine dishes for dinner, paired with the finest Rieslings from the Mosel. In step with custom, the cook offered Weisswurst and pretzels at breakfast only. And mind you, slouching or elbows on the table were strictly verboten! Absolut verboten!
The rigid rituals softened when Hugh became the titular head of the household. Imbued with the Malayan lifestyle, he pursued his days on ‘rubber time’ except where timing was crucial. The local jargon referred to doing things in a relaxed, laid-back fashion. It rubbed off on Danny.
Ernst, Gerda and Brigitte doted on Reggie, perhaps because he was the first-born and heir apparent to the clan’s trading empire and fortune. In contrast, Dan suffered the zweites Kind or second child syndrome with the distinct feeling of being ‘left out’ or disfavoured by them. Apart from wrestling with his sense of self - being of a minority in Penang - he had to fight for his spot within the family whilst enduring cruel injustices. Without fail, they blamed him when his sibling started the mischief or fights. From birth, the younger boy received little love from his mother. Was he unlovable?
Two years older, Reginald Otis Müller was his antithesis. ‘Reini’ to their kin, he possessed ash blonde hair, bowled and undercut, and a diamond shaped face with hard eyes of cold-grey. Where Dan was easy-going and chummy, Reg stood aloof, a ‘lone wolf’. Where he loved the outdoors and using his hands, his brother was bookish and a loafer. Their core attributes diverged. The junior boy showed sincere and selfless, while the eldest effused arrogance and testiness with an air of privilege. And ... slyness and connivance. Machiavellian.
Like their father, the lads learnt refined English in their formative years within the nursery, courtesy of their nanny. But at their forebears’ bidding, they used die deutsche Sprache at home, save for Hugh, who often carried on in the more common language. Beyond its walls, Danny aped his dad and grew to speak the native tongues of Malay and Hokkien, besides the Malayan-English patois. Or Manglish.
….
His father aside, young Danny gained from another rescuer - a Eurasian girl named Cheah Shu Mei. Though neither would see it that way. They fed off each other and gave in equal measure, with their companionship since toddlerhood strengthening into a lasting friendship that cocooned them akin to a warm, snug, and soothing blanket.
Perhaps his mother’s indifference had pushed him away, towards his dad and others? Others like Mei?
CHAPTER 3
The Cheahs
Cheah Shu Mei was the second offspring of the Millers’ housekeeper. A child of 1919, her baptism was at the Church of Our Lady of Seven Sorrows, a Catholic chapel on Macalister Road established soon after the British founded George Town. Undecided on a Christian forename, Yue Lin deferred to the French parish priest, who chose ‘Dolores’, meaning ‘Lady of Sorrows’. Doubtless, after the house of worship.
Oriental names were reversed, starting with the surname, followed by a generation tag and the name last. ‘Mei’ was the moniker Lin preferred, a decision that was fortuitous, as the girl would grow to detest her baptismal alias, too. It rang pompous in her ears, and she imagined it would bring misery upon her. So ‘Mei’ had stuck.
By the Oriental horoscope, she was born a Sheep or Goat. An auspicious sign. Whether by divine action, genes, or both, she owned much of her sign’s makeup, like attractiveness, tenderness, diligence and persistence. Still, she turned out shy. But though demure, a steely vigour ran in her veins - a strength she herself did not recognise. She would care little for wealth, placing others’ wellbeing ahead of her own.
Mei collided with reality when she started school. Snide remarks brought the matter to the fore, and she went home, bawling from the teasing and alien terms like ‘grago’ hurled at her by her schoolmates. The word meant ‘shrimp’ in Kristang but was used to disparage poor Portuguese Eurasian fishermen and their race. Naïve, she did not know what it signified. But sensed the slur and bigotry, regardless. For the first time, she felt self-conscious about her differing skin tone and cinnamon hair. And her large blue-green eyes.