Keeping Alive A golden legAcy
HABIB Jewels is a household name in this country when it comes to fine jewellery. This familyowned business started off as a small retail outlet offering competitive and reasonably-priced gems at Penang’s Jalan Masjid Kapitan Keling exactly 60 years ago. Over time, its customer base quickly expanded beyond Penang as the company’s good reputation began to spread all over the country.
The recent demise of Habib Jewels’ founder, Datuk Habib Mohamed Abdul Latif is a blow to the local jewellery fraternity. He’s widely acknowledged as one of the early pioneers who played an important role in shaping the industry back in the late 1950s.
During those formative years, Habib ventured into uncharted waters when he made the decision to deal in precious stones and metal. With no business models to follow, he depended heavily on personal motivation and initiative. Armed with just these two laudable attributes, Habib began bringing in skilled craftsmen who created a wide range of jewellery products that had exceptional beauty and quality.
“In the past, craftsmen made jewellery by hand. They invested long hours into a single piece to ensure its superior outcome,” shares Leo Chong Sing when I happened to drop by at his goldsmith shop while on the way up to Perlis recently. His establishment, Kedai Emas Cheong Sin, is strategically located right in the heart of rural Kedah’s Kodiang town.
My arrival cannot be better timed as he had just completed a transaction with a Malay couple. Judging from their body language and conversation, the duo are regulars and know Leo well.
“They brought some older pieces to exchange for newer designs. Their daughter’s akad nikah (wedding) is coming up soon and the younger generation are not keen on wearing old fashioned jewellery,” he explains as soon as the automatic safety door closes behind the couple.
Beckoning me inside, Leo then proceeds to show me the array of kerongsang and earrings that the couple left behind. “These older pieces, especially the kerongsang, are known today in general as Peranakan or Nyonya jewellery,” he adds.
Although the term Peranakan refers to people of mixed parentage, this jewellery style was also very popular among Malay women in the past. For example, the kerongsang was commonly used to fasten the baju kebaya instead of buttons,” explains Leo.
Noticing my growing interest, Leo hands over a magnifying glass and asks me to spot the difference between the precious stones on the kerongsang and those on a star-shaped brooch that he’d just retrieved from the display counter.
“The stones on the older piece appear to be less lustrous. Is it because of age and dirt deposition on them?” I question after studying the items for quite a while. With a smile, Leo tells me that the disparity is actually caused by the different quality of precious stones used.
Diamonds, elaborates Leo, were the most popular precious stones used to make Peranakan jewellery in the past. The Malays called the best and most brilliant diamonds berlian. I learn that older berlian were less shiny compared to modern ones because the inferior cutting technique used back then resulted in fewer facets to refract light.
“The stones on the brooch are very shiny as they’re high quality berlian while those on the kerongsang are made up of parts of the diamond salvaged during the cutting process. The latter, which is usually flat, irregular in shape and have very few or no facets at all, is called intan or rose diamonds,” explains Leo.
While jewellery with berlian and intan stones are favoured by those with deeper pockets for their brilliance, Leo tells me that the poorer segment of society normally opted for the cheaper batu ceylon or batu yaacob. “Today, some people call them dead stones as they do not reflect light at all,” says Leo before demonstrating the technique to differentiate between these three types of stones.
“Berlian catches the light easily even when there’s only a slight movement while with intan, you’ll need to move the jewellery piece quite a bit to see it shine. Batu yaacob remains dull no matter which direction it’s rotated.” A pair of suasa earrings with embedded intans; Kerongsang made in the late 19th century were much larger in size; The Chinese favoured designs with dragons; A basket-shaped gold pendant decorated with intan.
Our conversation is suddenly interrupted by the doorbell. I turn around and see another Malay couple waiting at the door.
Leo waves them in and produces the necklace that he had just repaired. “I’ve replaced the clasp and strengthened several weak links in the chain,” he explains as the couple inspects his workmanship. Satisfied, they pay him and leave.
“You repair damaged jewellery as well?” I ask when Leo returns to the counter directly opposite me. The 71-year-old man nods his head and explains that selling jewellery off the counter does not amount to much in a small town like Kodiang. As such, he supplements his income by earning commissions for doing repair and adjustment work.
“People come to me when they inherit jewellery from their parents and discover that the items do not fit. Most of these cases involve rings, bangles and anklets. I rarely modify necklaces and earrings as those are worn loosely and can fit practically any size provided it’s not too extreme,” explains Leo before beckoning me over to his workstation.
Located right next to the sales section is a long wooden table where Leo does his work. While showing me the different tools of his trade, Leo admits that he’s not skilled enough to make entire pieces of jewellery from scratch.
“I perform mostly remedial work. I picked up this knowledge while spending