Long ago, on their way home from the slum slaughterhouse, a half dozen Kong Toey lads stopped in at a new neighborhood "beer hall" to enjoy a pint. It was three in the morning and they had just finished butchering their night's quota of pork.
The boys, four Catholics and two Buddhists were bar regulars. But nothing about this visit would be regular. They arrived on a mission. With firm marching orders from three Catholic grannies, they would immediately, unequivocally and forever close the beer hall.
They sauntered into the beer hall laughing and boisterous, much like partygoers, except each grandson carried a cudgel (a short thick club) borrowed from slaughterhouse holding pens. They stacked these cudgels against a wall and proceeded to order beers "all around." They then sloshed their pints, drained their last swallows, and raised their mugs in mock salute ... to the bar's final night.
Bar revelry screeched to a halt.
In terms threatening and definitive, the boys instructed the bar's three teenage owners/managers to pack up their stash and shutter the business. Yes, yes, they could keep whatever was in the cash box, plus the powder and pills hidden in the back, but leave the booze. And leave. Now. The gig was over. They shouted the same to anyone who might be upstairs in a room used sometimes for sleep – and sometimes for nefarious other purposes.
The beer hall quickly emptied.
The lads hung back to drink some of the leftover booze, and they would sell the rest, giving the proceeds to a new slum kindergarten that opened two days later. The Rong Mu Slaughter House Kindergarten would go on to flower and flourish right there where the six cudgels had been laid and beer mugs raised.
The grannies were pleased. Their marching orders had been executed to perfection.
The Evolution of a Beer Hall to Kindergarten
Word travels fast in places where families live in shacks crammed together, and some words burn hotter than others. These words can ignite decrees, marching orders and immediate change. That was the case here.
The beer hall's fate was sealed soon after a stranger in the grip of the grape was seen taking a young girl into the bar's "upstairs" room. The girl was the child of one of the six lads and the great grandchild of one of the three Catholic grannies. But Catholic, Muslim or Buddhist, the religious stripe didn't matter. Whenever there is abuse of children, even suspected abuse, everyone is of the same religion and belief.
So the order was given. Shut down the beer hall.
A few weeks earlier, the three teenage bar owners/managers, who were themselves blood relatives to the Catholic grannies, had repaired, painted and renovated a sturdy shack in the middle of the slaughterhouse neighborhood. They even re-enforced the floor for dancing and prancing. The new establishment was immediately popular. Music loud enough to drown out the squealing of pigpens and a bar serving liquids, pills and powders to anyone tall enough to place their money on the bar. Didn't even matter if they had to stand on tiptoes.
As if crossing those lines of good conscience weren't bad enough, the three teenage owners/managers crossed more. Thinking themselves clever, they hung a sign outside the beer hall that read, "Rong Mu School."
One of the three Catholic grannies was illiterate, so she asked a neighbor to read the sign to her. She then went ballistic. As a child she had been too poor to get an education, so her life's dream had been for her kids to grow up steeped in reading, writing and arithmetic. Education was sacred, not something to be mocked.
So, when the six lads sauntered into the beer hall with marching orders, they arrived not so much out of fear of their grannies, but definitely something close to it. The Catholic grandmothers were outraged. And as auxiliary members of the Pious Ladies of the Catholic Legion of Mary, they shared the association's focus: to "bring the lost back to the Church."
The fact that the three bar owners/managers were also their blood relatives made it all the more horrible and embarrassing. But to then mock education and stock an upstairs room with mattresses, pillows and air conditioning? Soon after the bar opened, word spread that one of the granny's great granddaughters had been seen ascending those bar stairs. That's when the grannies joined forces.
They "paid visits" to each of the three bar owners/managers and declared them "lapsed Catholics." They proceeded to march off with anything in the houses deemed religious: statues of Our Blessed Mother Mary, Mother of Jesus; rosary beads; the Crucifix. The bar owners/managers didn't dare resist.
Leaving, one granny or another would announce to each: "You are not worthy of sacred items such as these. When you repent, we will return them to you. Maybe."
They told the bar owners/managers that they were no longer suited to be Catholics or to go to Sunday Mass. And they were no longer welcome into their shacks or those of others Catholics where they had grown up. Lastly, if they died one day soon in some horrible accident – a likelihood given their sinful ways, said to the grannies – no one would pray the Rosary for their souls.
A Buddhist granny had joined the Catholic grannies, and she took a statue of the Buddha from one of the bar owner's homes. She later told a senior monk of the temple that if he accepted any of the bar owners' bodies for cremation, he was to say only the minimum prayers.
The Legacy of Irate Grannies
No matter how brave and courageous you might be, no one can deal with irate grannies. The three bar owners quickly decided to sell the beer hall, but no one wanted to buy it, especially not after word spread about the irate grannies.
Truth is, the dramatic late-night closing of the bar might not have been necessary, but it sealed the deal in quick fashion. So at sunrise, the grannies, enjoying their first chaw of betel nut for the day, announced that everyone in the community – Buddhist, Muslim and Catholic – should come help clean out the bar. Get rid of the smell of stale beer and air out the second floor.
At first light the following day, a bar that had once carried a sign mocking education, opened its doors for classes. The Rong Mu Slaughter House Kindergarten was born.
The grannies brought in the confiscated Rosaries and Statue of Mary in an effort to make the place holy, and to chase away any lingering mischievous spirits. For assurances and good measure, the Buddhist granny added the statue of the Buddha.
In short order, the three bar owners repented. They sorely wanted their holy statues returned because they believed these protected them and their homes. The grannies were in no hurry, but they eventually returned them to the boys. Plus they wanted the daily prayers of their grannies for their protection and safety.
Today, many years later, those three teenagers are grown up, married, and their own children attend the school. The three Catholic grannies have died, gone to heaven, but portraits of each hang on the school's walls.
Next to them is a sign that reads, "The three founding ladies."
Meanwhile, the three teenagers, once owners of a beer hall that mocked education, now care for the upkeep of The Rong Mu Slaughter House Kindergarten. They guard it zealously. After an incident recently where fumes from folks smoking drugs wafted into the school, the former bar owners sauntered up with cudgels. In terms threatening and definitive, they told the smokers to leave immediately, unequivocally and forever.
No fumes have since been spotted or smelled near or in the school.
During that confrontation, several of the school kids that witnessed it swear that they saw the portraits of the three founding ladies smile.
![Share on Twitter]()
![Share on Facebook]()
