Finally, our son is wed

It's been more than a year in the making. Our son and new daughter-in-law registered their civil marriage in October last year and at the time we'd thought the Chinese wedding ceremony could be held sometime in April or May. As it turned out, that wasn't to be. They preferred to have it towards the end of the year instead and so, after consulting a date selection master to determine an auspicious date compatible with both of them, we settled on 01 November 2026.

That left us with roughly a year to prepare. To be honest, not much happened during the first six months. Like many things in life, the deadline seemed far enough away that there was always another day to think about it. It was only around June or July that we started looking at the preparations in earnest.

Saw See bore the greater share of the burden. She's the sort of person who delves into the details and makes sure everything is in proper order. That's simply her nature. I'm rather different. I tend to look at the broader picture and trust that somehow things will fall into place. Between the two of us, perhaps we struck a reasonable balance. Still, as September rolled into October, there was no escaping the fact that the wedding was fast approaching and preparations began accelerating accordingly.

The first significant event was the sang jeet (送日) on the 11th of October. We enlisted the help of my sister-in-law and her husband who made the trip to the bride's family home bearing a Nyonya siah-nah filled with gifts, angpow, biscuits, fruits and other customary items. It marked the formal betrothal ceremony and the beginning of the final stretch towards the wedding day.

Then on the 28th of October came the ahn chhng (安床), the setting up of the bridal bed. Traditionally this would have taken place at the couple's future residence but after some discussion we decided to hold it at our house instead. My son's home in Tanjung Bungah was simply too far away. Given the timing requirements surrounding the wedding ceremonies, it would've been inconvenient for the newly-weds to travel back there afterwards. So his old room upstairs was temporarily transformed into the bridal chamber.

On the eve of the wedding day was the lau tniah meh (鬧廳夜), one of the more memorable customs in the Nyonya wedding tradition. The sangkek-mm or matrimony matron (送嫁庵) arrived early to oversee the proceedings. My son was instructed to change into his wedding pyjamas and, when the prescribed time arrived, we led him downstairs. There followed the ritual combing of his hair, the eating of sweet glutinous rice balls and prayers offered to Thnee Kong (天公).

Meanwhile, our own preparations over the preceding months continued relentlessly. Looking back now, it seemed an endless list of arrangements. We had to book the siah-nah from a wedding shop, engage the outdoor canopy contractors, order endless quantities of fruits and kueh and organise catering for both the wedding eve gathering and the wedding morning. The food came from my brother-in-law's eatery, Sampan Garden, in Kulim. At some point I completely lost count of the number of fruits involved. Every time I thought we'd bought enough, another basket seemed required.

Perhaps the most important task was distributing the invitations. The wedding dinner venue selected by my son was Wu Jia Chinese Restaurant in Taman Pekaka. It was a suitable venue but could accommodate only 34 tables. The bride's family requested 15 tables, leaving us with just 18 for our side, excluding the main table. Space was at a premium.

Faced with limited seating, I gave priority to Saw See's side of the family which is considerably more extensive than mine. From my own side, I invited only my sister and brother-in-law from Singapore, two Quah cousins and the three Oh cousins with whom I am closest. I had also invited another cousin who was my own best man but he was unable to attend. We also made sure to invite our immediate neighbours. Not only do we enjoy a good relationship with them over the years, but practical considerations also came into play. The wedding canopies would occupy part of the road and inevitably affect roadside parking. It seemed only right that they should share in the celebration rather than merely endure the inconvenience.

As often happens, circumstances changed. After the initial invitations had gone out, we discovered that a few additional seats were available. So invitations were extended to several friends from Nandaka Vihara, Swee Cheok Tong and The Old Frees' Association.

Then came another challenge which anyone who has organised a wedding will understand. Attendance confirmations began arriving and with them the complicated matter of seating arrangements. Who should sit together? Who definitely should not sit together? Where should senior relatives be seated? Which tables needed vegetarian food, or a baby chair? I soon realised that filling tables could sometimes require as much diplomacy as arranging an international summit. Alongside this, I had to prepare the list of relatives who would participate in the morning phang teh or tea ceremony (奉茶).

By the wedding eve, relatives and neighbours were gathering at the house and the atmosphere had noticeably changed. What had been months of planning suddenly became something real. My daughter and her friend had returned from Kuala Lumpur to lend a hand and the house, which had been relatively quiet just days before, was now bustling with movement and conversation from every direction. Cue the inquisitive relatives to the fore!

On the morning of the big day, several of my son's friends arrived early to accompany him as part of the groom's entourage. They left at eight o'clock to fetch the bride and that gave us a few precious hours to straighten the house and prepare for the arrival of relatives attending the phang teh ceremony.

Fortunately, everything went smoothly. The senior relatives, I should note with some relief, displayed exemplary behaviour and did not require the customary persuasion to take their seats. In earlier generations, this ritual reluctance could sometimes become a prolonged affair as the honoured guests were expected to decline repeatedly before accepting. Thankfully, practicality prevailed.

After the tea ceremony, the couple proceeded upstairs to the bridal room where my nephew performed the khui tham pooi (開探盆), breaking open the cover of the bridal chamber pot as part of the fertility ritual. And with that, the principal daytime ceremonies were essentially complete. 

Well, almost. There still remained the wedding dinner at Wu Jia that evening. Thankfully the dinner went well and everyone appeared to enjoy themselves. There was good feedback on the food, even praise for the name cards left on some of the tables. I, of course, rose to give a brief speech to thank everyone for their presence, saying:

Good evening, everyone. On behalf of my family, I would like to thank all of you for joining us to celebrate this special occasion. Your presence means a great deal to us. To our daughter-in-law's parents and family, thank you for welcoming our son into your family. We are very happy that our two families can come together today to celebrate this happy occasion. To the newlyweds, may your marriage be filled with love, understanding, patience and happiness. Remember to take care of each other, respect each other and learn to give and take as you build your life together. Thank you once again for being here. Please enjoy the evening and have a wonderful time.

There was, however, one memorable exception. At one point I happened to see a fellow being violently sick in the washroom. Whether it was an over-enthusiastic appreciation of the drink, I can't say but there was practically free flow of brandy, whisky and wine on the bride's half of the hall. To be sure, the guests on the groom's half were more sober. Honestly, I couldn't help but feel rather disapproving. A wedding banquet is meant to be enjoyed, not treated as a competitive drinking session. Celebrate by all means, but surely there's no need to consume enough liquor to put one's digestive system into open rebellion. Some people seem determined to extract every last cent of value from a banquet invitation. Personally, I'd rather leave the table satisfied than stagger away defeated.

By the time everything finally concluded and we returned home after midnight, exhaustion had set in. The guests had departed, the ceremonies were over and a year of planning had come to an end.

And that was that. Our son was married. The young couple were beginning a new chapter of their lives and we, in our own way, were beginning a new chapter too. For the first time in many months there was nothing left to plan, arrange, confirm or worry about. The house was quiet once more. 

Well, almost. There was still the cleaning up to do the next morning, and the afternoon, and the night, and probably for the next two days after that. Some traditions continue long after the wedding is over...