I was born on the 14th of May, 1930 in Kuala Lumpur, Southeast Asia. During that time, the country had a mixture of all sorts of people. A lot of people came from the borders of mainland China. This is because they were very poor and needed to find somewhere where they could make good. There were many Chinese who emigrated from China to Southeast Asia and found a more comfortable life there. 

Because my grandmother came from a mixed cultural background, I was given a Malay name. So I didn't have a Chinese first name. The surname always comes first. My surname, Chiew, is Chinese. Then my other two names are Malay. Nya Chit.  Nya means girl and Chit is ‘a little girl’ in Malay. So on my birth certificate, my name is Chiew Nya Chit. I lived with that right through my schooling. My Cambridge School certificate is under Chiew Nya Chit. 

My earliest memory is of my brother, Thiam Yew taking my toy doll off me. The doll was given to me by some rich woman. I loved that doll very much. And because I loved the doll, he took it and beat her head against the window upstairs and I cried.

My grandmother on my father’s side, married three times. The first man he married produced my father. She went on to have more children after my father. She was probably born in Malaysia. She had several, I wouldn’t call them marriages, but serious relationships, and had children with each partner. This was the way in Malaysia at the time. There wasn’t the expectation that one would marry a partner in order to start a family. As relationships ended and began. 

I remember when I was a child, suddenly I had an uncle appearing and that uncle was from another man and he found my father. They looked for one another and suddenly I got a new uncle. I don't know who took him on, but he went to school, learned the English language and became a school headmaster. 

As a child, everyone knew my name as being Chiew Nya Chit. My father was a very smart and far-sighted man. He said, "One of these days, China's going to come out tops, and all of you will have to learn Chinese." So we went to an English medium school in the morning and then in the afternoon, we went to a Chinese school. We did this every day. And then went to this Chinese school. My mother took us to be registered and that headmaster says, "No. She's not Chinese. She's got no Chinese name. "Chew Nya Chit. That's not Chinese. She's not coming in." So my mother had to go to a temple and she has a friend who's an abbess. A very well educated, Chinese abbess.

So yes my father was a bright chap. He became the chief clerk of a firm of English lawyers. At that time, most Malay people were intimidated by white people and saw them as big bosses. My father held the key to the office and held a senior position there so he wasn’t about skin colour. When I was growing up with my brothers, our school was just up on top of the hill to my father's office. So when we finished school each day, we would walk down the hill, go to his office and wait for him to finish work. Then I would be sitting in front of his bicycle or at the back of his bicycle. He would be bicycling two of us, me and my brother - two. Looking back on it, it was a very hard time but when we were living it, it seemed ok. Somehow nobody complained.

I don't think her adoptive parents could have been very loving towards her because when she was a teenager, they forced her to marry a rich old man. 

But my mother was a very bold woman. It seemed she escaped. She jumped from the window of the house she shared with this man and she escaped. And then, I think she rented a room somewhere, I don't know where. And that's where she met my father, who also was renting a room somewhere there. So that’s how they met and eventually they were married. They're two of a kind, my parents. 

They stayed together. My father never went to look for another woman. But she developed bad habits, gambling. She would go tell, "I gamble, I win money. I bring money home." It was a lie, of course. How can you be all the time winning money?

My paternal grandfather was from China. For most of my life, I knew very little about him. I thought to myself, "Now, where do I start to find out more about my ancestors?" 

In 1980, when my husband went to China for his sabbatical, I followed and stayed there for three months. That's when I went to look for my ancestors. And you wouldn't believe it. China was so advanced even then. I went to where my grandfather was born. There was a register where all the Chinese in that area had and have their names recorded at birth and at death. The names are all there.

I spoke with someone from my husband's university that was given the role of looking after visiting lecturers. I said to him,  "You take me to where this place where I was supposed to come from or rather my grandfather was supposed to come from." 

When I visited the place where he came from, I met the locals who explained to me that there were three main streams. Now, these three streams, if your grandfather came from this stream, he would have emigrated to America. If he came from that stream, he would have emigrated to Europe. There's this third stream. He would have emigrated to Southeast Asia. I found that my grandfather was from that stream that had emigrated to Southeast Asia. That's where I found his name in his tombstone. On his gravestone, it has his full Chinese name, where he came from. Everything about him. 

The first man my grandmother was in a relationship with produced my father. My grandmother, I thought, "My goodness." Even my own time, I would find it a little bit bold, but she, my grandmother, had three serious partners that she had children with. I remember when I was a child, suddenly I had an uncle appearing and that uncle was from another man and he was the headmaster of a school in Singapore, and he found my father. Somehow they look for one another and suddenly I got a new uncle. My father was so proud of him because he... I don't know who took him on, but he went to school and learned the English language. He then went on to become the headmaster of a school.

The Japanese arrived in Kuala Lumpur in 1940, when I was ten years old. One of the courses of action was to shut down all schools. So I had to stop going to school. My parents organised for me to work with the abbess in the Chinese temple. I went there instead, secretly learning classical Chinese. Classical Chinese is like the old literature. It's very high class. Only the ruling class were using the classical Chinese.

After the war, schools were reopened and I returned to the convent to finish my schooling. Back then the options for a girl were very limited. The only possibilities were typing, shorthand or teaching. That's all.

So after I got my Cambridge School Certificate, I studied typing and Pittman’s style shorthand. Then I got a typing job. I wasn’t earning enough money to help my family and so I applied for a teaching job in a village outside of Kuala Lumpur. Nobody wanted to work outside of Kuala Lumpur due to fear of the communists and the possibility of being brainwashed. I wasn’t worried about that. So I taught English in a Chinese school.

Years later while living in Australia, I applied to Macquarie University to do a Bachelor of Japanese Studies. I had struggled for a long time with resentment, due to war time experiences.  I went to the Macquarie University, I had to see the Head of Department. I said, “Look, I really want to do this degree. The reason is because I want to purge myself of the hatred I have for the Japanese.” She was a Japanese woman. Her name was Zusie Chow. 

I did the degree part-time. It was very interesting. I learnt about Japanese literature, history and language. These studies had a very positive impact on me and helped me to heal old wounds. For so long I blamed the Japanese for all the problems I had. I no longer resented the Japanese. 

The Japanese seized houses they wanted and more seriously than that, they took women whenever they pleased. Because they didn’t bring Japanese women with them to Malaysia, the soldiers would go to houses and look for ‘Kunyan’ (women). One day the Japanese came to our house. I was twelve years old at the time. In those days the bathrooms had big tanks of water because we couldn’t waste water. My mother and I hid in our water tank. We kept our heads under the water, not breathing so that there were no bubbles. Luckily they didn’t find us. I was too young to be terrified. My mother must have been. All my mother did was push my head down so that I didn’t resurface to breathe. This remained a big fear for me but in my case, at that time, I was small and I didn’t look my age. I looked younger. Quite a number of my friends weren’t so lucky. 

After I finished school and had completed some study to learn typing and shorthand I secured a typing job. This didn’t pay very well and so I started teaching English at a Chinese school in a village outside of Kuala Lumpur. 

I knew a  boy who worked in the police department. I think he was a bit sweet on me. He told me about a job going in the police department. He felt that with Chinese and English language skills, I’d have a good chance of getting the position. The money was very good, paying almost twice as much as what I was earning for both the jobs I was currently doing. 

When I was interviewed, I wasn't even interviewed in an office. I was interviewed out in the open with two tall white men and  two communist Chinese men. At the start of the interview it became apparent that this wasn’t for a job within the police force - this was for a position with the secret service. The white men spoke to me in English and the Chinese men spoke to me in Chinese to see whether I was up to scratch or not. 

For a long time I couldn’t talk about the work I did there. In fact, I tried to wipe it out of my mind. Even now I don’t even want to talk about it. It was quite confronting. It involved staying in the prison. I heard and I saw awful things.

I was worried about my family as I was helping support them with my income. At the time I had a very rich boyfriend. He said, “I will look after you and look after them.” Knowing then that my family would not be able to manage without me there I happily agreed to go. My boyfriend couldn't leave me alone, but he provided me with lots of money for the entire time I was in London and I was able to help my family out. In fact, he bought a house for my family in Kuala Lumpur to live in. This man was my first serious boyfriend, although I didn’t care for him all that much. At this stage in my life I didn’t know what love was, in that way. I was very grateful to him for supporting my family and me. In doing this I think he thought that he was securing a future together with me. I didn’t feel the same way and so we never married. 

When Francis, Li-Chuen and I left to emigrate to Sydney, Australia, the students surprised me. They hired three buses to see me off at the airport. The whole school was there. It was very emotional. I didn’t think the girls at the school really liked me. I wasn’t overly strict but just worried that maybe I hadn’t really gelled with them. Seeing the whole school waving us off at the airport changed that and I realised I had developed meaningful relationships with the staff and students at Sri Aman. 

Soon after arriving in Sydney I started doing some casual teaching work but I hated it. I felt like I was just being paid to babysit. It was so different from regular teaching. 

I decided I wanted to teach Chinese and so I took a position at The School of Community Languages. The lessons were taught on a Saturday. The government wasn’t offering language courses in a lot of High Schools at the time. If you wanted to study a language for your Higher School Certificate, you would have to go to a language school on a Saturday. I really enjoyed teaching there. The students were all year 11 and 12 students and so they really wanted to learn and to do well. I taught there for ten years.

Years later his grandparents, who raised him, died. Lucy, felt that all the money should go to her, because she was the biological daughter. But Francis’ grandparents had other plans. They felt that because they had adopted Francis, he was as good as their son and he should, therefore, receive an inheritance. They were quite well off. They had several rubber plantation estates . So some of the property went to Francis when they died. Prior to their passing, Lucy had been in charge of all her parents’ money. Her parents told her explicitly, that specific estates were to go to Francis. And so he received a couple of houses. On a side note, strangely, because she didn’t give birth to any boys, years later, Lucy too, adopted a boy, this time treating him as her son. 

In order to leave the brotherhood, he had to have approval from the Pope. By then, Francis had already known me. I was working for the Ministry of Education, which involved looking after all of the secondary schools in the area, including St. John’s. He would phone me and we would talk about matters relating to his school. Over time he opened up to me about things he was struggling with in the brotherhood. So he would be phoning me and phoning me and phoning me and asking me what to do, what to do. Until one day, with Rome finally giving him permission, he left the brotherhood. 

Outside the brotherhood, I was his closest friend. The moment he left, two others followed. Two other brothers followed him.

Leaving the De La Salle Brothers left him feeling lost. He’d been there since he was a teenager and so he really was starting over. Fortunately, thanks to his inheritance from his grandparents, he had some financial security behind him. 

A couple of years later, I fell pregnant. My younger sister told me, "Hey, I think you're pregnant." I said, "How do you know?" 

"It's just the way you walk." 

Sure enough, I was. Francis didn’t know how to react. He was pacing up and down the office and whatnot. 

When Li-Chuen was two, we realised that it would be great for her to have a companion to play with. Someone that could help with babysitting. One of the teachers at my school employed a girl to help around her house. She told me to go to the girl’s village to see if she had any sisters who might be interested. My mother and I went to the village. When we got there we learned that all of the girl’s sisters had gone out to work for other people as domestics. There was one sister left. She was only twelve years old. She was standing at the door and my mother said, “Why not this little girl? She can play with Li-Chuen.” All I wanted was for Li-Chuen to have a little companion. And so we asked her and she said yes.

Her name is Ah Fah. Ah Fah means flower in Chinese. Ah Fah likes to call herself, Rose. Over time, she came to live with us. Ah Fah became a part of our family. 

A friend of mine, who is a nun, Sr Letitia suggested the name, Li-Chuen. Her name comes from a Chinese story that’s too long to tell. It’s a name of historical significance. Also, this historical figure went on to marry someone with the surname Wong. And there's a story, a Chinese story behind that. Just as my name has a Chinese story behind it. So I thought, that's quite a good name. 

When Li-Chuen was little I was well supported. At that time I had Ah Fah already there. Also, I had two maids. These three all lived with us as live-in helpers. We also had a gardener. They would all help. There was no problem, whatsoever. 

In 1974 we decided to emigrate for Li-Chuen’s sake because the education system in Kuala Lumpur was so horrible. She was about to start school, properly and we wanted her to get a good education and have plenty of opportunities. We were also really disappointed with the country’s leadership at that point. 

Over time we moved to Epping. The Foos ended up moving into our street, only three houses away. We have so many wonderful memories together. Li-Chuen is very good friends with Norman and Yokelin’s boys, Kerwyn and Lyndon.

So Francis started his job at Sydney University and he loved it. I started doing some casual teaching work but I hated it. I felt like I was just being paid to babysit. It was so different from regular teaching. 

I decided I wanted to teach Chinese and so I took a position at The School of Community Languages. The lessons were taught on a Saturday. The government wasn’t offering language courses in a lot of High Schools at the time. If you wanted to study a language for your Higher School Certificate, you would have to go to a language school on a Saturday. I really enjoyed teaching there. The students were all year 11 and 12 students and so they really wanted to learn and to do well. I taught there for ten years. Around the time I started teaching Chinese in Sydney, I began to do volunteer work with the Royal Institute of the Blind (RIDBC) at North Rocks, working as a proofreader. I did this for two days a week for twenty years. Actually for more than twenty years. 

I had read a lot that you can get what you want your child to be if you work at it. So I wanted Li-Chuen to be good in music. So in gestation, it was classical music all the time. Li-Chuen is very good at music. She started studying music at the age of three . Her music teacher’s name was Margaret Hair. We discovered that Li-Chuen has perfect pitch. She became both a brilliant pianist and violinist. She studied alongside a boy named Duncan Gifford, who has gone on to have a remarkable career in music, playing and teaching music all over the world. Li-Chuen could have taken this direction too, but thankfully, chose a rewarding career that didn’t result in her being away all the time. 

When I was a child I had some training in piano but it didn’t really work. I had trouble reading the treble clef and the bass clef at the same time, fast enough. You know the lines for the left and right hand. I didn’t take lessons for long because my family couldn’t afford it. I guess it was coordination. It was never my strongpoint. Take swimming for example. I’m not terribly good. At one time I nearly drowned. When I was teaching in secondary school in Kuala Lumpur, we were at the local pool for a swimming program. One of the teachers says, “Come in. Don’t be frightened. I swim next to you.” So I jumped in and I bubbled up and bubbled up and went straight down. But I tried to overcome that. I did.

I am the eldest of the seven children that my parents had. I have four brothers and two sisters. This is us.

1. Chiew Pek-Lin 
2. Chiew Thiam Yew
3. Chiew Thiam Choy
4. Chiew Thiam Seng 
5. Chiew Pek-Kwan
6. Chiew Thiam Loy
7. Chiew Pek-Chun

Thiam Yew was an Insurance Salesman. He spoke Tamil. Very few asians can speak the language. This means that he was able to sell insurance to all the Tamil speakers. He became very rich. He ran away with his first wife, Sau Lin when they were seventeen. The family wasn’t invited to the wedding but we received a photograph. When he became rich, he left his wife and their three kids, Wing Sum, Wing Lin and Jenny in a house he had bought for them. Jenny went on to become a manager at Cathay Pacific Airlines. His second wife, Sandy was his secretary. They had three children together: Ronald, Cindy and Sharon. Thiam Yew passed away not so long ago. He had cancer. I encouraged a reconciliation between him and his children before he passed away. All of his six children were there with him when he died.

Thiam Choy lives in Kuala Lumpur. He has three girls and a boy. He has always loved to play badminton. He doesn’t have much money but his kids will get him whatever he needs. As a young man, Thiam Choy was working as a clerk in a bank. He would sneak out from his work to participate in badminton competitions. This led to him losing his job.

Thiam Loy is my youngest brother. When my father died he was only five. I am eighteen years older than Thiam Loy. I had to look after my mother and help bring up Thiam Loy, Pek-Kwan and Pek-Chun. Thiam Loy wanted to go to England to study accountancy but he spent most of his time playing the guitar. I told him if he could pass ‘Part 1’ of the accountancy course, I would fund his studies in England. He didn’t like this and thought I was showing favouritism because he thought I helped Pek-Chun to get to London. I didn't. Thiam Loy started to neglect his studies and focussed on playing the guitar. We were all worried about his lack of effort in school studies and how this would reflect on his future. I decided to send him to Penang Boarding School. This cost me a lot of money but it was worth it because it got him through school. When Thiam Loy came out of boarding school he didn’t achieve the marks he needed to get into university. After that he worked for my boyfriend for the ‘Unilever’ Firm. Thiam Loy got married and he and his wife had three girls. In the 1980s I sponsored his family to come to Australia. He lives with his family in Dural (Sydney) now.

Pek-Kwan lives in Singapore. She is married and has two grown up boys but her husband died.

Pek-Chun is my youngest sibling. I am twenty years older than her. When she finished high school she went to England to do Nursing. I didn’t have to pay a cent while she was there. I just paid for her airfare. She found a hospital in Bath. The moment she got into the hospital she started working. Pek-Chun worked as a Nurse throughout her career. She married a very clever man who was actually the Trade Commissioner of Malaysia. Together they went and lived in Japan for a while. They have four children together. One of Pek-Chun’s daughters, Suat Ling Chua, is here in Sydney and is a trained accountant. She is now married to a man named Quincy, who works at the ATO and used to work with my son in law, Michael.

I tried to do this again, here in Sydney, quite recently. It was too tricky. I went to the library to find out where the prison is. I was a bit worried that I wouldn’t know how to get there. 

So yes, I still want to go and help because I’m alright. I think, my mind is still working okay. I feel, if I can help, why not?

I proofread for more than twenty years for the Royal Institute for the Deaf and Blind. More than twenty years, until they said, “We don't need you anymore.” I would sit with another worker, who was blind and we would proofread the braille together. So I would be reading with a blind girl. She would check the braille and I would read the print. We would take turns reading. Either she read and I checked or I read and she checked the braille. When we read across something interesting, we’d have a discussion about it. My friend Tristan who is still there will call me and say, “I miss you.” 

From Tristan Clare (Friend and former colleague at The Royal Institute for Deaf and Blind Children)

I worked with Pek-Lin for several years at the Royal Institute for Deaf and Blind Children. The RIDBC changed Pek-Lin’s day there so that we could work together, proofreading texts in different languages. We covered a lot of texts from a range of literary works to novels. Pek-Lin is a formidable woman. She’s very knowledgeable about different languages and her French is excellent. So we worked closely together every Thursday for a couple of years. Pek-Lin is such an interesting person! I’ve always enjoyed our discussions together. We’d often have really in-depth talks about a great many things from different cultures to things of a more philosophical nature.