Reflections on a Golden Ear



I vividly recall a discussion I had with my Singaporean friend regarding the late 19th-century migration of the Chinese to Peninsular Malaya through the seaport of the Lion City. He also shared his family's history, how his ancestors began by selling noodles (Hokkien Mee) in Ipoh, Malaysia.
"Of course, the Chinese in Manila were involved in similar endeavors," I told my friend. Adding, "They undertook the less desirable tasks that the Spaniards and native Filipinos wouldn't touch. Cleaning ears, for instance. I realized that some of the wealthy families in the Philippines today trace their ancestry back to Hokkien Chinese."
"They were quite a resilient bunch, those lonely migrants," my friend interjected. He continued, "If you mention barbers and ear cleaners in Kuala Lumpur, I can even pinpoint the street where their 'shops' once stood. They took in apprentices, can you believe that? They would recruit newcomers from the mainland, often penniless wanderers, and turn them into trainees or almost like slaves. In the evenings, these solitary migrants would wander the suburbs of KL. In Petaling Jaya, there used to be Chinese workers dressing up as women. But don't interpret it as something distasteful. It was all in good fun, with the Chinese community playing along."
I shared with him about Schur's book "The Manila Galleon," where the author mentioned an enterprising Chinese individual in early Spanish Manila who crafted prosthetic noses for those who had suffered injuries. He made these artificial noses out of wood. The Singaporean seemed taken aback, almost silent. Nevertheless, I insisted, "Check out the book!"
Our conversation meandered, touching on subjects from Tunku Abdul Rahman to Lee Kuan Yew, and more. Then, suddenly, my friend shifted his focus, saying, "I think it's time for Malaysia to shed those last three letters, 'SIA,' and revert back to 'Malaya.' Those three letters represent Singapore, you know?"
I responded, "I didn't know. But they seem to have you in a bind over water, right?"
Our exchange concluded in a "until next time" tone, against the backdrop of a humid evening, intertwined with stories of noses and ears, Hokkiens and Filipinos – a tapestry of bygone narratives that couldn't be easily dismissed, akin to Proust's contemplative state – not extinguishing the candle while one's consciousness fights to remain awake.
As I look at this picture, memories of that conversation in Singapore flood back. Now the question arises: Who is tending to the other's ear at this moment?

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