Bitter Sweet Harvest

This is a love story beautifully and engagingly told. It reflects the complex ethnic, religious and social tensions of Malaysia and beyond—all made vivid through the experience of characters, movingly depicted, and the exciting action, which carries the reader briskly from page to page.

“Tautly written, Chan Ling Yap’s second novel is a powerful story of the problems of intercultural marriage that can arise from family interference. With a superbly woven plot,
Bitter-Sweet Harvest
leads the reader through a minefield of cultural, ethnic and religious conflicts. Compelling and gripping, I found I could not put down this tragic saga of missed opportunities for the lovers. A poignant love story that is highly recommended!”

“Chan Ling Yap’s latest book
Bitter-Sweet Harvest
is a worthy successor to
Sweet Offerings
, her first novel. I couldn’t read it quickly enough to find out the next step in this exciting story. I wasn’t disappointed.”

Reviews for
Sweet Offerings
:

A very down-to-earth book with down-to-earth characters that you cannot help but be drawn to. It has certainly been an absorbing and enjoyable read.

The dramatic personal stories of Mei Yin and Nelly, first and second wife to the same man, are the best reasons for giving this book a go—not forgetting the mother-in-law from hell.

The book is a great read with real emotion and such detail as one can almost smell the atmosphere coming from the pages. Also I cannot recall ever reading a book where the very last word carried so much meaning for the future.

Just loved this book from start to finish—the characters come alive and the reader becomes totally involved in their lives. A book that is impossible to put down, and can’t wait for the sequel.

© Chan Ling Yap 2011

Published in 2011 by
Marshall Cavendish Editions
An imprint of Marshall Cavendish International (Asia) Pte Ltd
1 New Industrial Road, Singapore 536196

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While some of the events are based on historical happenings, this novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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National Library Board Singapore Cataloguing in Publication Data
Yap, Chan Ling.
Bitter-sweet harvest / Chan Ling Yap. – Singapore : Marshall Cavendish Editions, 2011.
p. cm.
ISBN: 978-981-4361-64-4

1. Interracial marriage – Malaysia – Fiction. 2. Interfaith marriage – Malaysia – Fiction. I. Title.
PR6125
823.92 -- dc22           OCN748613740

Printed in Singapore by Fabulous Printers Pte Ltd

O
n 13 May 1969, following the results of the general election in Malaysia, violence broke out between the country’s ethnic groups. Many people were caught in the violence. The riots were confined mainly to the capital Kuala Lumpur in the state of Selangor, but tension spread throughout the country. The Government declared a state of emergency and imposed a curfew immediately throughout Selangor. Parliament was suspended, as was the press, and the National Operations Council was set up to run the country. Over a period of two months, order returned and while curfews continued, these too were gradually scaled back. In February 1971, Parliament was re-established and The Constitution (Amendment) Act of 1971 was passed.

T
he rain splattered on to the windowpane, the huge drops creating rivulets of water that flowed down the glass.
Smack, ping,
the sound resonated in the hushed silence of the room. Outside, plumes of dense lilac bent low under the relentless force of the pelting rain and peonies folded their silken petals.

An Mei slid off the wide window ledge. She shivered, involuntarily pulling her cardigan tight around her. “I have to tell my brothers,” she announced. “My parents are coming to Oxford. They haven’t set a date, but it looks like it might be soon.”

Hussein stood very still. A frown settled on his normally good-natured face. “Why are they coming to see you now just when you’ve finished your studies and we are planning to go back?” he asked.

“They are not coming for a visit.” She paused letting her voice trail off, her gaze straying into the distance. Then she looked directly at Hussein, reproach in her eyes. “They have decided to leave Malaysia for good, to emigrate to where they believe they will have a better and more secure future. For them, England is a natural choice because my brothers and I are already here.” She looked away again, unable to meet his eyes as she tried to quell her rising distress.

“But why?” he repeated. There was a catch in his voice; he could not conceal a mounting anxiety, a premonition of something bad to come. He sensed her change of mood.

“Read these letters,” she said, thrusting a sheaf of papers into his hands. “They are disillusioned. All the senseless hate that people have for each other. We have been watching the race riots and their aftermath in Malaysia for over a week now on the TV. Somehow, seeing the turmoil on television allowed me to distance myself from the situation. Reading these letters, I can’t do that anymore — I can feel my father’s anger. I feel my parents’ pain.”

She turned to face him. Her eyes flashed, their soft amber brown turning to hard agate. The resignation and despair that had shown on her face earlier gave way to a resolute expression as she reflected on the situation now confronting her loved ones. “They have worked so hard to rebuild their business. My father was almost made bankrupt some years ago... And now this! His shops vandalised, torched!”

“And you? What will you do? Will you stay here in the UK?”

“Of course! Where else can I go? I will have no home to go back to in Kuala Lumpur.”

“But what about us? You know I have to go back. My father will expect nothing less than my immediate return, especially in light of these new problems. I came here to be educated and groomed to go into politics, to take over from him. I
can not,”
he stressed, “not return. But I do not want to go back without you. Come with me. Please?” he pleaded.

He took her in his arms. He could feel her body, unyielding, stiff. “You have to tell your parents about us.”

“No! Not now. Not when they are already so troubled.”

“Is that the only reason?”

She hesitated and cast her eyes down. “No. But you must know the other reasons.”

He tightened his arms around her. “I don’t. Tell me. I want to hear them from you.”

“Because,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes a limpid pool of pain, “because we are separated by race, religion, custom and practically everything I can think of, except a shared education in Oxford and a shared birth place. We are Malaysians. But you are Malay. I am Chinese. You are a Muslim, I am... I am a Christian!” Rolling up her sleeve, she thrust her pale arm against his bronzed dark brown skin. “Look at the difference in our colour! Need I say more?”

She pushed away from him. Holding herself at arm’s length, she challenged him. “What about you? Have
you
told your parents about me?”

“No!” he admitted, embarrassed. “I have told my aunt though. I thought that it would be the best way for them to know. She would be able to choose an opportune moment to break it to them gently and to persuade them to accept the situation. After all, she is a good example of how an interracial marriage works. Aunty Jenny is Chinese and she married my uncle and adopted Islam as her religion. She is on our side. She is also your mum’s friend! In fact, I would say, her best friend.”

“So!” An Mei fell silent after that single exclamation. It hung like an accusation in the air. She was disappointed that Hussein had not told his parents. Wasn’t he the one who had said their parents should be told? She lowered her arms and walked back to the window. She did not tell Hussein that she too had confided in Jenny, hoping that she would tell her mum and find a way to break the news to her father, Ming Kong. She had placed such hopes on Jenny because it was she who introduced her to Hussein in the first place.

An Mei recalled her early days in Oxford. Jenny was in London, on one of her short trips to shop in the city while her husband tended to matters of state with the British authorities. Jenny had invited her to go up to London and join her for lunch at the Savoy Grill on the Strand. During the visit, while chatting with Jenny in her hotel room, An Mei had confided that she was thoroughly enjoying her studies but was finding it difficult to make new friends.

Bustling with energy, Jenny had said immediately, “
Sayang!
What a pity! You are too shy. People think you are proud and aloof!” Then, with the spontaneity her mother had told her was typical of Jenny, she had immediately picked up the phone. “I know just the person to look after you in Oxford. My nephew! Hussein. He is in Balliol studying politics.
Aiyah!
He is so handsome! Curly hair and eyes like Omar Sharif! Only make sure you don’t fall for him. His parents have many plans for him-
lah!
He will be a big shot when he finishes his studies.”