Auntie Choo Neo was obsessed with Princess Diana and the British royal family, and Bea and I would pore over the magazines that she left at our home. After Father once scolded his sister for squandering money on magazines, she reminded him that he was of English breeding in Brunei, that he was a British subject, and that he should take pride in that and maintain an interest in the monarchy, since the Crown was our head of government in Canada. Father had, for a short time, attended St. Peter’s, an English school in a former British colony, and spoke the Queen’s English. I heard people express surprise at his proficiency. To them, the way he spoke did not match his face.

My aunt’s pride in her spoken English justified her interest in the British royal family. She was also interested in the royal family in Brunei, but not in the same way.

“Why does Auntie Choo Neo wish bad things on the sultan’s family?” I once asked Mother.

“Auntie, like your father, doesn’t like the royal family in Brunei. They blame them for their statelessness back home,” Mother replied.

“Are they to blame?” I asked.

“It’s complicated, Lily. Yes and no. They run the country, so yes, they decide who gets citizenship there.”

“So why didn’t they want to give citizenship to Dad and Auntie?”

“When it comes down to it, it’s because they’re Chinese.”

“They don’t like Chinese people?”

“No, it’s not like that. They want to make sure the country stays Malay. Chinese people are not from there. They migrated there.”

“But Dad was born there.”

“Yes, but to them, he will always be a foreigner.”

“So why are Chinese people there? Why was Dad there?”

“Our ancestors left China when things were not good there. People were starving, fighting, dying. They left to save themselves. Some went to Brunei. Others went to other places in Asia and around the world.”

“And they didn’t go back?”

“It was many years before people thought about going back, but by then, they had built lives elsewhere, and their children didn’t know China. You know, your father and I have never been to China.”

“Why?”

“It’s not that easy. We weren’t born there. We can’t just go there and stay.”

“Do you want to go there?”

“Of course. One day. We may be a different kind of Chinese, but we are all Chinese, and China is our ancestral home.” At that moment, the sizzling wok beckoned Mother to take up her spatula and toss the garlic and pink amaranth she had grown in her garden.

Father once contemplated hanging a portrait of the sultan of Brunei and his favoured second wife in our house, to the horror of Auntie Choo Neo.

“Aya, old habits die hard!” Auntie Choo Neo laughed, poking fun at her brother for lugging the portrait all the way from Brunei. “We are not in Brunei anymore, Ah Loy. There is no need to appease Bolkiah. You need not prove your loyalty anymore.”