Sold when she was a child to one of the oldest Teochew Opera Troupes (Lao Sai Toh) in Singapore, Grandma Amps was its star in the 50s and 60s. Her popularity was attested by a series of photographs (one above), commissioned by a wealthy fan to be taken on the grounds of his house. Once, looking through her chocolate boxes of photographs, I had also spotted one of her receiving a congratulatory banner from the now Minister Mentor himself!
L-Court of the Emperor (Centre: Grandma; 2nd from left: Grandpa)
R -The Rare Tear (Right damsel: Grandma)
Click for larger pic
Since her strong features were made even more striking by the mask-like opera makeup, it was seldom that she played the role of the damsel, whether in love or distress. Instead, in a twist of the gender-bending tradition(as on the Elizabethan stage and still so for the Noh stage, Chinese opera was traditionally practised by only male actors, including those who played only female roles - the "hua-dans"), she was more often the young scholar turned general; the general, first gravely misunderstood, then re-affirmed as the true hero; or the hero revealed to be the emperor in disguise.
Grandpa Amps must have been the envy of the troupe - married to the Emperor-girl! He, on the other hand, was only a bit-part actor. A skinny, monkey-like man, he would play the role of comic/servant/foot soldier or, at best, a nameless warrior. Off stage, they had seven children, the third my mother. (She was the only child whose features seemed made for opera: slim almond eyes, a slender chin and lips that pout to form a single rose petal). My mother told me once how sly Grandma Amps would have succeeded in taking her away at the age of ten to join the opera troupe, had she not ran through the village screaming her protests, leaving the embarrassed Grandma Amps to slink away.)
And when all six children had started school and the last female child was successfully placed in a wealthy family in Penang, Grandma Amps retired from the stage. Even then her theatre career did not come to an end. Rather, it continued with her reincarnation as a medium for the Sea Goddess. I suppose this was an upgrade - from Emperor to Goddess! From her new 14th storey HDB apartment, she entertained devotees before the altar with messages from the dead for the grieving, told the future to the curious, foolish and fearful, and gave advice (perhaps from a wisdom culled from opera scripts) to the troubled.
Today, the shrunkened and widowed Mrs Tan Poh Choo still keeps a healthy sense of drama, leaving her family guessing if she is somewhat senile or merely playing the part. Months ago at the crematorium, she stood before her husband's ashes and had an animated conversation with him. When he was alive, they had spent their days playing chup tzi ghee (a type of chinese card game, the cards slightly longer than a domino) in silence, speaking only to accuse the other of cheating or refusing to pay up. At the elderly care centre, she sang opera melodies for the other old folks and staff (this was quite contrary to her earlier refusals to sing or take part in any vaguely related opera activity). Now that she was alone and with the excuse of age, she generously kissed her grandchildren (whose names she could barely remember) on their cheeks - very modern.
Ah, xi4 meng4 ren2 shen1 (anyone has any idea how to get Chinese script?), literally, theatre dream life. Though theatre was clearly Grandma Amps' territory, I am glad dreams and life lie in public domain.
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