I was at home when a shriek pierced the air. Rudely and loud it crashed my nap time with its wailing. Doors banged and still more screams. I rushed down the stairs and opposite the road I saw another neighbour peering out of her window. " Hah mi su ? ( what's up ) ha mang kow kau an neh? ( Who is crying until like that )?" . It was coming from my adjoining neighbour's house. The bliss of semi-detached urban living.. you get to hear every minuste detail of your fellow neighbour's life.. and I mean everything!! So when the volume is tuned up as it is now.. you hear !
The sounds began to receed to the back of the house and so I went to my kitchen to see if I should be calling the local police soon. Bang Bang Bang " I no wannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn !!!!!! "
sreamed the owner of a pair of lusty lungs.. " Darling darling.. dont cry.. dont cry.. " I heard my neighbour say.. then a deep voice ," ah yah son, you want some ribena ? Come Daddy make ribena for you." Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!! Bang Bang Bang something flew across the room.. " I no WANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!! "
My curiosity was peeked . The parents were'nt scolding the child and they sounded as if they had no conflict.. what on earth was causing the kid to wail in this manner? !
Bang! Bang! Doors slam! Glass shatters.. Piang! By now even my kids are standing with me in the kitchen wondering what all the commotion is about. " I don wannnnnnnnnn!!!! " shrieks shatter our lazy afternoon and by now I am prepared to go ask my neighbour what it is the kid dosent want. But my daughter wisely puts a restraining hand on my arm and says " Mummy , dont kapoh ( be a busy body ) ". " Maybe they need help " I say. " It's just Andrew.. he's always like this. Just wait." says my daughter who has obviously heard all this before.
" Son son darling dont behave like this. Daddy got to finish some work first then Daddy take you" drawls the unflustered Dad from next door. " I WAN NOWWWWWWWWWWW. YAHHHHHHHHHHHHH.. I WAN GO TO THE PARK NOOWWWWWWWW. DADDY YOU TAKE ME NOWWWWWWWWWWWWW AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"" SCREAM SCREAM
bang bang somemore!!
My daughter rolls her eyes " See I told you.. it's nothing. He always like that. He just wants what he wants.. ah go back to sleep lah he will stop now because the Daddy will take him in a little while." and with that she walks off to her room
What? all this fuss to go to a park? It's 3pm on a Sunday afternoon !! And in a little while true enough. The whole family emerges at the gate with their sniffling 4 year old and head for the park.. silence decends and the estate is at peace again. I look up and my other neighbour bangs shut her windows in disgust. Opposite a group of kids had gathered but perhaps when they discover the action has died down , they break up and drift off towards the park hoping to catch the continuation or a fresh saga. A few doors down an old uncle comes to the gate.. " Ah yoh, if that fella my kid ah. sure lah I whallop man.. my whole Sunday afternoon gone ! I thought someone murder the fella ! chech! "
I renter my house and I cant help but think.. I could make millions if I could just capture that moment on Desperate Housewives. A four year old controls his parents with wails , shouts and screams. What will he do when he's 14? Now that to me is something to be Desperate about!
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Getting from here.. to .. there
Did I ever tell you I was in a Catholic school from Kindergarten to University? My parents were born in the time when missionaries flourished and Mission schools offered the best education in the land. My father went to ACS in Klang and my mother to another Methodist/ Catholic mission school. Those days the teachers were nuns and full time missionaries . Fathers, Catholic priests ruled the school yard with their rotans and footballs. They were dedicated to raising the heathen not just into higher spiritual states of awareness but convinced that they had sacrificed family , home and comfort for the betterment of young Malaysian lives through education.
Indeed many ambitious , hardworking young people were educated in these old Mission schools and later sent off to the homelands of these Nuns and Fathers to further their education and return as lawyers, doctors, architects and engineers.. the future leaders and founders of Modern Malaysia and Singapore.
My mother’s education was random and rudely interrupted by the advent of the Japanese war. But another form of education took place. She learnt in the days of the Japanese that to be silent was better than to be heard. She learnt that a mouthful of tapioca was better than nothing at all. That if you really needed to eat salt, parts of the earth were salty. Her parents taught her to be still and silent even when her deepest fears crept up on her as Japanese soldiers ransacked their home looking for young girls as she crouched under the old floorboards of their home. She learnt that the fastest way to make friends was to speak the Japanese language and forget the English ways and manners of the Nuns. She learnt to wear her brother’s trousers and not yearn for the pretty skirts of the girls her age for her own safety. And when the war was over.. she was to return to school at the age of 13 to unlearn all that she had learnt.
Her eldest sister , my Aunty M , was a teaching assistant with the Mission school at the time. She insisted that my mum go to school and sit for her Primary School Leaving Exams… but there was a hitch.. mum had left school at the age of 9 or 10.. she had to study everything from Pri 1- 6 in a year. I think given today’s system of education my mum would probably have been sent to a Vocational School ! But with Aunty M’s help and her own determination, my mum not only passed her exams .. she did so with Flying Colours ! In the next years or so, she went on to complete her Senior Cambridge and then applied to be a teacher at the Singapore Teacher’s Training College.. hence her move to Singapore.
It’s quite amazing actually, the tenacity and drive of the older generation. Driven by the sole purpose of looking for a better life and brighter future my mother landed on the shores of Singapore then just another state in the Federation of Malaya. Armed with nothing more that a Senior Cambridge Certificate my mother was to become the first principal of the first Intergrated Malay school in Singapore. Quite a feat for a Chinese kampong girl whose education started at the age of 13.. so my children, with all your tuition , handphones and laptops.. how will you fare? Has the drive and tenacity of past generations been etched into your DNA? Or is life so much easier that challenges are side stepped rather than met? My husband says youth today have grown soft with comfort and lack of moral, spiritual and physical challenges.. I hope not
I believe each generation will have its challenges.. if then, my mother over came the Japanese war, struggled with poverty and education .. tomorrow our children face the prospects of polluted waters, tainted foodstuff, genetically modified foods, an attitude of apathy, morally challenged politicians, a planet suffering from drought and lower food production, over population ,too many graduates applying for the same jobs, terrorists , wars and rumours of wars... the list goes on.
Each generation in not without her plagues and challenges. But it's oftentimes how we overcome that will shape and determine our future. Overcoming takes guts, determination to succeed and hard work. It requiers having the faith to believe that God has a plan for our lives.... something for the instant Maggi noodle generation to think about ...
Indeed many ambitious , hardworking young people were educated in these old Mission schools and later sent off to the homelands of these Nuns and Fathers to further their education and return as lawyers, doctors, architects and engineers.. the future leaders and founders of Modern Malaysia and Singapore.
My mother’s education was random and rudely interrupted by the advent of the Japanese war. But another form of education took place. She learnt in the days of the Japanese that to be silent was better than to be heard. She learnt that a mouthful of tapioca was better than nothing at all. That if you really needed to eat salt, parts of the earth were salty. Her parents taught her to be still and silent even when her deepest fears crept up on her as Japanese soldiers ransacked their home looking for young girls as she crouched under the old floorboards of their home. She learnt that the fastest way to make friends was to speak the Japanese language and forget the English ways and manners of the Nuns. She learnt to wear her brother’s trousers and not yearn for the pretty skirts of the girls her age for her own safety. And when the war was over.. she was to return to school at the age of 13 to unlearn all that she had learnt.
Her eldest sister , my Aunty M , was a teaching assistant with the Mission school at the time. She insisted that my mum go to school and sit for her Primary School Leaving Exams… but there was a hitch.. mum had left school at the age of 9 or 10.. she had to study everything from Pri 1- 6 in a year. I think given today’s system of education my mum would probably have been sent to a Vocational School ! But with Aunty M’s help and her own determination, my mum not only passed her exams .. she did so with Flying Colours ! In the next years or so, she went on to complete her Senior Cambridge and then applied to be a teacher at the Singapore Teacher’s Training College.. hence her move to Singapore.
It’s quite amazing actually, the tenacity and drive of the older generation. Driven by the sole purpose of looking for a better life and brighter future my mother landed on the shores of Singapore then just another state in the Federation of Malaya. Armed with nothing more that a Senior Cambridge Certificate my mother was to become the first principal of the first Intergrated Malay school in Singapore. Quite a feat for a Chinese kampong girl whose education started at the age of 13.. so my children, with all your tuition , handphones and laptops.. how will you fare? Has the drive and tenacity of past generations been etched into your DNA? Or is life so much easier that challenges are side stepped rather than met? My husband says youth today have grown soft with comfort and lack of moral, spiritual and physical challenges.. I hope not
I believe each generation will have its challenges.. if then, my mother over came the Japanese war, struggled with poverty and education .. tomorrow our children face the prospects of polluted waters, tainted foodstuff, genetically modified foods, an attitude of apathy, morally challenged politicians, a planet suffering from drought and lower food production, over population ,too many graduates applying for the same jobs, terrorists , wars and rumours of wars... the list goes on.
Each generation in not without her plagues and challenges. But it's oftentimes how we overcome that will shape and determine our future. Overcoming takes guts, determination to succeed and hard work. It requiers having the faith to believe that God has a plan for our lives.... something for the instant Maggi noodle generation to think about ...
For Realllllllll !!!! Cross my heart !!
My daughter has been reading my blog and she asks how come my ghost stories sound like those in Singapore Ghost Stories… I dunno, I never read them the Chinaman and Cleaver encounter is true.. But as I was driving this evening I remembered something else..
My mum and dad had had a huge fight.. magnified by the fact that I was perhaps only 5 or 6 at the time. It was a “ she said he said” thing which I now find perfectly normal to do with my husband . But like I said, parental fights to a 6 year older is like.. the sky falling down on chicken little.
I remember my mother crying and crawling into my bed. She told me that tomorrow we would pack our bags and go up to Klang to visit with her mother for a while. She said we would be going a long time and so I had to sleep well tonight and she would pack all my favourite things tomorrow. I asked her if we were going to drive Papa’s car up to Klang again and that’s when she said “ Your Papa is not coming. We are leaving him behind. I don’t know when we will see him again.”
Heart stopped. Jaw dropped. What’s this? We are leaving Papa at home alone? For how long? “ Sleep girl. Sleep .. tomorrow we take the train.” Sniffed my distraught mother.
That night it felt like the sky did fall down on chicken little. I had no idea what was going on, but even at 6 I knew this was no ordinary fight. As I tried to sleep I turned to face the table light next to my bed and that’s when I saw Him. I recognised Him instantly.. He was the Jesus in my Sunday school class.. the Jesus in my story books.. He looked like Jesus right down to the flowing white gown.
I stared at Him and blinked. I could’nt believe Jesus was sitting on my table next to my night light. I struggled to call my mum who was sniffling but apparently had fallen asleep.. it was just Him and me. I wanted to climb out of bed.. touch Him to see if He was real. He looked at me with kind eyes and said “ I shall never leave you nor forsake you..” then just like that He kinda vanished.
He will never leave me nor forsake me..I had no idea it was a verse from the bible at the time. It was many years later that I was to encounter Him again.. But since Jesus is Jesus.. I don’t count Him as a ghost.. so Yeah Michelle, the Chinaman and his cleaver was my first encounter with a ghost.. even if he was conjured by a frantic house help probably looking for a way to gain some extra vacation time from her Tow Kay Neo.
Hindsight and experience is a wonderful thing. In my more mature state I too have had maids who have pleaded to go home because some dead relative had come a calling in their sleep !
My mum and dad had had a huge fight.. magnified by the fact that I was perhaps only 5 or 6 at the time. It was a “ she said he said” thing which I now find perfectly normal to do with my husband . But like I said, parental fights to a 6 year older is like.. the sky falling down on chicken little.
I remember my mother crying and crawling into my bed. She told me that tomorrow we would pack our bags and go up to Klang to visit with her mother for a while. She said we would be going a long time and so I had to sleep well tonight and she would pack all my favourite things tomorrow. I asked her if we were going to drive Papa’s car up to Klang again and that’s when she said “ Your Papa is not coming. We are leaving him behind. I don’t know when we will see him again.”
Heart stopped. Jaw dropped. What’s this? We are leaving Papa at home alone? For how long? “ Sleep girl. Sleep .. tomorrow we take the train.” Sniffed my distraught mother.
That night it felt like the sky did fall down on chicken little. I had no idea what was going on, but even at 6 I knew this was no ordinary fight. As I tried to sleep I turned to face the table light next to my bed and that’s when I saw Him. I recognised Him instantly.. He was the Jesus in my Sunday school class.. the Jesus in my story books.. He looked like Jesus right down to the flowing white gown.
I stared at Him and blinked. I could’nt believe Jesus was sitting on my table next to my night light. I struggled to call my mum who was sniffling but apparently had fallen asleep.. it was just Him and me. I wanted to climb out of bed.. touch Him to see if He was real. He looked at me with kind eyes and said “ I shall never leave you nor forsake you..” then just like that He kinda vanished.
He will never leave me nor forsake me..I had no idea it was a verse from the bible at the time. It was many years later that I was to encounter Him again.. But since Jesus is Jesus.. I don’t count Him as a ghost.. so Yeah Michelle, the Chinaman and his cleaver was my first encounter with a ghost.. even if he was conjured by a frantic house help probably looking for a way to gain some extra vacation time from her Tow Kay Neo.
Hindsight and experience is a wonderful thing. In my more mature state I too have had maids who have pleaded to go home because some dead relative had come a calling in their sleep !
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Moving to Kuching
I came to Sarawak in the 1987. I’d had worked for nearly a year and a half in Singapore after my return as a fresh graduate from the US. My mother had planned for me to buy my first car, my friends were all on a fast track on the corporate ladder. Some were preparing to further their studies and complete their Masters or PHDs. Others were on their way to investing into their first real estate. Some had continued to find jobs after their studies overseas and had no thoughts of returning to sunny Singapore.
It was a time when young Asian women of Singapore were moving up in landscape of modern Singapore. They filled jobs and positions that took them all over the world and would place them on the top lists of many headhunters ( business wise not Sarawakian style ) . Ambition drove them to networking. Work hours ran into the late pm and the hotspots in town were filled with ladies in shoulder padded suits carrying brief cases. Oh yes, the filofax was a big deal , a pre-cursor to today’s PDA. No matter that a small notebook bound in leather with replacable pages cost at least $300/- and above.. it was a must have to keep appointments and important contacts.. woe to the secretary or assistant who lost a page ! It was the era of pre- GIRL POWER!
At the height of all this dynamism.. I decided to get married and not only that.. I decided to get married and move to Sarawak.. GASP!
My mother ( who knew it was coming but nevertheless ) howled about how ungrateful I was and what a huge mistake it had been to send me off to the States. England .. had been her first choice. In England people had a sense of right and wrong, decorum and such But NOOOOO.. she sent me the the US of A because I saked and now I come home corrupted , believing in free will and what not!” What happened to filial piety? Gratitude? What about all the money I spent on you ? Have you no shame? What will the neighbours say?? Next door also like you the only child.. now she Doctor already still she stay with her parents! You go away for four years now want to live in SARAWAK! Why God so unkind to me .. what have I done wrong to deserve such treatment? Better I die lah ! “ ( and you think soap operas are melodramatic.. where do you think their material comes from?!)
My mother retreated in her room . For three days the drama continued. Sighs shattered the eerie silence of our home as my father retreated to his study and I to my corner of the house. We all avoided one another. Each preparing for the storm that was bound to come when Mum finally exhausted her boxes of tissues.
On the third day, she emerged. Teacup in hand and a half box of Kleenex. She walked right past me and went straight into my Dad’s study.. there for nearly an hour I heard them banter. “ She is our daughter and it’s her life.” I heard my dad say.
“ What kind of life will she lead in the jungles of Borneo?? You think lah! It must be the boy and the family “ charm “ her. Make her stupid and reject us for his family . My friends all tell me it is NOT possible she wants to go there . She live all her life in a big city. We send her to USA then now want to go where ? Kuching Sarawak !! What kind of life will she live?? !! What will people say ? “ shrieked my mum.
Then the voices grew quiet. That was when I started to panick. All this conversation I could predict but silence meant strategies were being formed against me… oh Lord help.
I ran out of the house. There were no handphones at the time and I needed to find some comfort somewhere. I called a friend. “ Su you are the only child . What did you expect? Anyway you are still young. Why on earth would you want to marry and live in Sarawak? Why don’t you get him to find a job here in Singapore? Ermm hold on, Yes, Yes I want the artwork on my desk.. by 4pm..no later..Ok sorry, these people just don’t know how to keep deadlines. Well ok, so what are your plans? Do you really think you can survive over there??”
“ Well I like Sara- wak an..” but I get cut off.“ Ah yah Su, you have a degree. You have education. Your parents only have you.What kind of life will it be for you ..what about job prospects? Oh darn, David, David take this and pass it to accounts immediately Immidiately ! ..ermm ok, so tell me how you feel about the whole thing” “ Well,, I would like to give Sarawak a try after all….” But she cuts in again. “ No, no you are not thinking with your head. Men are so many . So easy to find. How do you know he’s the one? You see I have no men in my life.. free and easy.. I am not tied down to anyone . I have no curfews on my time. What I earn I enjoy.. you’re so young.. your parents will be lonely . My God, where is Kuching? What will people say ? What ? ok, erm Su I’d love to talk but I have to go now, my boss just called. It will be ok. Just stay here and marry later . Just think what other people will say. ok bye.” Nnnnnnnnnnnggggggggg the dead tone rings in my ear.. no help there.
But that’s when it hit me. The impact of my decision was not merely about myself and my family. Because this is Singapore.. it will involve all the aunties the uncles and even the Thangachii who sweeps the road side near our house. And then as if on a magical que.. the old aunty roadsweeper passes me. I call out a greeting and she shakes her head at me with sad eyes “ Ai yoh yoh. Ai yoh yoh you young people these days..” and walks away.. wow news sure travels fast.
Ironic. My Asian parents send me to a Western country to learn and live in a western culture . At home we drink tea and have biscuits at 4pm ( a legacy of their own educational stint in Liverpool England ). When we have family dinner their conversation visits every part of the globe and the governments of other lands are pronounced backward and “ stuck in old times” . But today, Asianess rules and although Sarawak is only a 45minute flight from Singapore it’s spoken of as if I have chosen to live in Siberia.
My educated sophisticated friends can think of no other argument except “ what will people think and what career opportunities I would miss”. My aunts and uncles will look upon me as the ungrateful child who never made something of herself.
It dawned on me that I had decision to make. I was not simply asking their permission to marry. I was informing them of my intent. I struggle with that decision a long time before I return home. Flashes of past conversations about ghosts and hauntings ring loud in my head. My mother’s threats that even the ghost of my dead grandparents will rise up in ire. Listening to these thoughts in my head I think, what the heck. I have lived with them all my life.. perhaps they may like Sarawak too.
It was a time when young Asian women of Singapore were moving up in landscape of modern Singapore. They filled jobs and positions that took them all over the world and would place them on the top lists of many headhunters ( business wise not Sarawakian style ) . Ambition drove them to networking. Work hours ran into the late pm and the hotspots in town were filled with ladies in shoulder padded suits carrying brief cases. Oh yes, the filofax was a big deal , a pre-cursor to today’s PDA. No matter that a small notebook bound in leather with replacable pages cost at least $300/- and above.. it was a must have to keep appointments and important contacts.. woe to the secretary or assistant who lost a page ! It was the era of pre- GIRL POWER!
At the height of all this dynamism.. I decided to get married and not only that.. I decided to get married and move to Sarawak.. GASP!
My mother ( who knew it was coming but nevertheless ) howled about how ungrateful I was and what a huge mistake it had been to send me off to the States. England .. had been her first choice. In England people had a sense of right and wrong, decorum and such But NOOOOO.. she sent me the the US of A because I saked and now I come home corrupted , believing in free will and what not!” What happened to filial piety? Gratitude? What about all the money I spent on you ? Have you no shame? What will the neighbours say?? Next door also like you the only child.. now she Doctor already still she stay with her parents! You go away for four years now want to live in SARAWAK! Why God so unkind to me .. what have I done wrong to deserve such treatment? Better I die lah ! “ ( and you think soap operas are melodramatic.. where do you think their material comes from?!)
My mother retreated in her room . For three days the drama continued. Sighs shattered the eerie silence of our home as my father retreated to his study and I to my corner of the house. We all avoided one another. Each preparing for the storm that was bound to come when Mum finally exhausted her boxes of tissues.
On the third day, she emerged. Teacup in hand and a half box of Kleenex. She walked right past me and went straight into my Dad’s study.. there for nearly an hour I heard them banter. “ She is our daughter and it’s her life.” I heard my dad say.
“ What kind of life will she lead in the jungles of Borneo?? You think lah! It must be the boy and the family “ charm “ her. Make her stupid and reject us for his family . My friends all tell me it is NOT possible she wants to go there . She live all her life in a big city. We send her to USA then now want to go where ? Kuching Sarawak !! What kind of life will she live?? !! What will people say ? “ shrieked my mum.
Then the voices grew quiet. That was when I started to panick. All this conversation I could predict but silence meant strategies were being formed against me… oh Lord help.
I ran out of the house. There were no handphones at the time and I needed to find some comfort somewhere. I called a friend. “ Su you are the only child . What did you expect? Anyway you are still young. Why on earth would you want to marry and live in Sarawak? Why don’t you get him to find a job here in Singapore? Ermm hold on, Yes, Yes I want the artwork on my desk.. by 4pm..no later..Ok sorry, these people just don’t know how to keep deadlines. Well ok, so what are your plans? Do you really think you can survive over there??”
“ Well I like Sara- wak an..” but I get cut off.“ Ah yah Su, you have a degree. You have education. Your parents only have you.What kind of life will it be for you ..what about job prospects? Oh darn, David, David take this and pass it to accounts immediately Immidiately ! ..ermm ok, so tell me how you feel about the whole thing” “ Well,, I would like to give Sarawak a try after all….” But she cuts in again. “ No, no you are not thinking with your head. Men are so many . So easy to find. How do you know he’s the one? You see I have no men in my life.. free and easy.. I am not tied down to anyone . I have no curfews on my time. What I earn I enjoy.. you’re so young.. your parents will be lonely . My God, where is Kuching? What will people say ? What ? ok, erm Su I’d love to talk but I have to go now, my boss just called. It will be ok. Just stay here and marry later . Just think what other people will say. ok bye.” Nnnnnnnnnnnggggggggg the dead tone rings in my ear.. no help there.
But that’s when it hit me. The impact of my decision was not merely about myself and my family. Because this is Singapore.. it will involve all the aunties the uncles and even the Thangachii who sweeps the road side near our house. And then as if on a magical que.. the old aunty roadsweeper passes me. I call out a greeting and she shakes her head at me with sad eyes “ Ai yoh yoh. Ai yoh yoh you young people these days..” and walks away.. wow news sure travels fast.
Ironic. My Asian parents send me to a Western country to learn and live in a western culture . At home we drink tea and have biscuits at 4pm ( a legacy of their own educational stint in Liverpool England ). When we have family dinner their conversation visits every part of the globe and the governments of other lands are pronounced backward and “ stuck in old times” . But today, Asianess rules and although Sarawak is only a 45minute flight from Singapore it’s spoken of as if I have chosen to live in Siberia.
My educated sophisticated friends can think of no other argument except “ what will people think and what career opportunities I would miss”. My aunts and uncles will look upon me as the ungrateful child who never made something of herself.
It dawned on me that I had decision to make. I was not simply asking their permission to marry. I was informing them of my intent. I struggle with that decision a long time before I return home. Flashes of past conversations about ghosts and hauntings ring loud in my head. My mother’s threats that even the ghost of my dead grandparents will rise up in ire. Listening to these thoughts in my head I think, what the heck. I have lived with them all my life.. perhaps they may like Sarawak too.
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