Many people could not believe that I was Chinese educated. In fact I was very poor in English for many years. This brain of mine was not designed to learn English or any other phonetic languages. I was equally poor in Malay, a language that has been Romanised. However, Chinese came very easily. I did not need to try, I could memorise poems and essays after a few readings. By the time I was nine years old, my composition book was passed around the staff room and every Chinese teacher of the next Standard would love to take my class, especially those who loved to teach writing. My primary school was a premier school, there were ten classes of every Standard. Each class had a minimum of 50 pupils. I was a transfer pupil: number 52 on the register.
( My eldest, a son, inherited this unusual memory in terms of everything related to food. My youngest, a daughter, also could remember anything to do with music and lyrics. The rest are above average but do not have instant recall)
In Standard Six, my principal tried to talk me into furthering my Chinese education. I was from a poor family, she found sponsors to send me to a private Chinese High School and guarantee that I would have scholarships to go to a Taiwanese University to study Journalism. Apart from being good in my writing, I could persuade and talk a hind leg off a donkey. I was rather out-going and talk a mile a minute. Had I gone in that direction, today I would not be English speaking, neither would I be blogging in English. My dad heard about the generous offer a few years down the line and was mad at my stupidity until his last illness. My mum thought I was a goner, whether it was Taiwan or USA, I would be gone and would not return. She was very surprised that I came back at all. Of course she benefitted from the fact that I stay 11 minutes by car from her for the past 13 years up to now(except for the two and a half years I spent in Borneo).
Completing pre-university, I went to US on a scholarship. After my Bachelor's degree, I was offered a place in U of Mass in Amherst. Sad to say, the scholarship I was given was to U of Texas at Arlington. I spent a month at Arlington with my brother's friends. Perhaps it was a correct decision because I would unavoidably become depressed there - it was such a colourless place. Everything was brown in tone - it was semi desert and dry. I have seasonal light disorder, I need a certain number of hours of sunlight to have good mental health. Given a choice, I would go to places that are bright, colourful and vibrant. Both Malaysia and Virginia fulfil that criteria. Therefor I could be happy in both places in the long haul.
I do not regret the decision to return to my birth country. But looking at the leaps and bounds of artificial intelligence, I wonder what would have been the alternate reality had I joined in that field in the early eighties. It would have been challenging and fun, maybe very frustrating as I am Asian and a woman at that. In real life, I gave that up and meddle with the brains of my children and that of all my students in Silver City. Great fun too, very instructive and time-consuming. One only sees the result like 15 years later.
Friday, November 30, 2018
Thursday, November 29, 2018
(1039) Break in
My friend Mollie migrated to a town outside of Melbourne, Australia. Before she bought a house she rented an apartment while orientating the family to the new environment. Because of the temporary nature of that rental, she did not think of opening a safe deposit box in any bank. The assumption that it was a peaceful countryside lulled her and her husband to think they were quite safe. Their apartment was broken into and her entire collection of jewels were gone. For weeks she was in a daze. One day the policeman in town stopped her on her way to pick up her son. She had unknowingly ran two red lights. He kindly counselled her to seek help with the psychologist in the local hospital. She went home with her son and cried for hours. It was not the monetary value that made her cry. It was all the keepsakes and heirlooms that she lost which cut into her heart. She happened to be a Hokkien, Hokkien brides tend to receive more golden items during their weddings than other Han Chinese.
My husband's varsity housemate also migrated to Melbourne. When they least expected it , their house was broken into. Someone must have been watching their comings and goings, in less than one hour of their weekly grocery shopping, it was enough for their belongings to be thrown around like a hurricane has swept through the small house. Actually very little cash was taken. They felt very violated as all their personal items like clothing and photos were rifled and scattered everywhere. It was a bad experience which left a nasty taste in the mouth. It was little wonder that they bought another house quite far from the rented house and outfitted it with alarms and other security measure.
Of course crime is present everywhere. Before my first child was born, my husband and I rented a room from my former school mate and her husband. After we moved to our own place, her place was broken into. Her downstairs bathroom window was not grilled with metal bars. The burglar must have been a thin drug addict. She lost a few items of convincing looking costume jewels and a few bottles of duty free hard liquor.
An old neighbour of mine in Silver City lost everything in her safe box in the study. Her son returned after midnight half drunk. The electronic gate and wooden main door were left open. For some unexplained reason, that night her safe was not locked. Although she thought it was the carelessness of her son and it was an outsider who came in, the other members of her family thought it was her maid.
After the initial shock of discovering the crime, the next thought often would be gratefulness that no one is hurt. Money one can earn again with hard work and time, human lives and well being are priceless.
My husband's varsity housemate also migrated to Melbourne. When they least expected it , their house was broken into. Someone must have been watching their comings and goings, in less than one hour of their weekly grocery shopping, it was enough for their belongings to be thrown around like a hurricane has swept through the small house. Actually very little cash was taken. They felt very violated as all their personal items like clothing and photos were rifled and scattered everywhere. It was a bad experience which left a nasty taste in the mouth. It was little wonder that they bought another house quite far from the rented house and outfitted it with alarms and other security measure.
Of course crime is present everywhere. Before my first child was born, my husband and I rented a room from my former school mate and her husband. After we moved to our own place, her place was broken into. Her downstairs bathroom window was not grilled with metal bars. The burglar must have been a thin drug addict. She lost a few items of convincing looking costume jewels and a few bottles of duty free hard liquor.
An old neighbour of mine in Silver City lost everything in her safe box in the study. Her son returned after midnight half drunk. The electronic gate and wooden main door were left open. For some unexplained reason, that night her safe was not locked. Although she thought it was the carelessness of her son and it was an outsider who came in, the other members of her family thought it was her maid.
After the initial shock of discovering the crime, the next thought often would be gratefulness that no one is hurt. Money one can earn again with hard work and time, human lives and well being are priceless.
(1038) Housekeeping
Having gone away for a few years and just resumed blogging for a few weeks, I am pleasantly surprised to find that folks still read this blog. The mind finds it interesting that according to page view, my biggest group of readers next to American is Russian. In the third place is France, then only my countrymen, Malaysian. Thank you for your support.
The all time favourites are:
1. (89) Never Stop on a Motorway
2. (932) How to have a Fair skin Baby
3. (168) A Change of Heart
4. (172) The Queen's Birthday Telegram
5. (91) Shoe shine Boy
6. (93) A Hungarian Professor
7. (170) The Wisdom of Solomon
8. (963) Lucky Man by Michael J Fox
9. (167) A Matter of Honour
10. (134) Upbringing
This is a blog, merely a record of my personal views, experience and perhaps the way I perceive things and people around me. It is a little shocking to look at the number of people interested in having fair skin babies. Bird nest has been harvested for thousands of years from Borneo and shipped to China since the Tang Dynasty. It is basically the "saliva" of swallow birds. It was a special food for Royalty. When abstaining from drinking coffee and drinking lots of soya milk did not help my nephew to have fair skin, my sister-in-law went to consult a Chinese physician. Looking at my niece's beautiful complexion at birth, I asked, listened and imitated when I was pregnant with Elizabeth. Joyfully she is the only one of my children who inherited my husband's gene in terms of skin that hardly tans in the sun. Due to her sharp features and fair skin, people think she is Japanese, Korean, Northern Thai ... Looking at my husband's grandmother, it is possible she had Thai blood. After all, Perak shares a certain length of border with Southern Thailand.
Therefor I state a disclaimer here, what worked for my sister-in-law and I might not work for another lady. I wish I have a fool proof method to share like gene splicing.
The all time favourites are:
1. (89) Never Stop on a Motorway
2. (932) How to have a Fair skin Baby
3. (168) A Change of Heart
4. (172) The Queen's Birthday Telegram
5. (91) Shoe shine Boy
6. (93) A Hungarian Professor
7. (170) The Wisdom of Solomon
8. (963) Lucky Man by Michael J Fox
9. (167) A Matter of Honour
10. (134) Upbringing
This is a blog, merely a record of my personal views, experience and perhaps the way I perceive things and people around me. It is a little shocking to look at the number of people interested in having fair skin babies. Bird nest has been harvested for thousands of years from Borneo and shipped to China since the Tang Dynasty. It is basically the "saliva" of swallow birds. It was a special food for Royalty. When abstaining from drinking coffee and drinking lots of soya milk did not help my nephew to have fair skin, my sister-in-law went to consult a Chinese physician. Looking at my niece's beautiful complexion at birth, I asked, listened and imitated when I was pregnant with Elizabeth. Joyfully she is the only one of my children who inherited my husband's gene in terms of skin that hardly tans in the sun. Due to her sharp features and fair skin, people think she is Japanese, Korean, Northern Thai ... Looking at my husband's grandmother, it is possible she had Thai blood. After all, Perak shares a certain length of border with Southern Thailand.
Therefor I state a disclaimer here, what worked for my sister-in-law and I might not work for another lady. I wish I have a fool proof method to share like gene splicing.
Monday, November 26, 2018
(1037) Chronic Depression
There are many depressed individuals, more than most of us imagine. Recently there was a spate of young people killing themselves in Selangor. This is where most of the famous universities are, whether public or private. Some estimates that there are 60,000 students of tertiary education within the boundaries of Selangor and Federal Territory, local or foreign students.
Old people are depressed too, for one reason or another. I will cite two examples in my community. There is this couple with three children, we shall call them the de Silva clan. Mr de Silva is an artist. Now that is often a vocation that comes with some financial hardship. As a result, Mrs de Silva has been chronically depressed throughout her long marriage to this talented but not very rich man.
Then there are Mr Harun and his family. Mr Harun is a businessman. In this case there is certainly no financial problem. But often where there is a lot of wealth, the rich man attracts much female attention. As a Chinese proverb puts it, the gentleman loves youth and beauty, the beauties love money and men who enjoy flattery. Mrs Harun did not divorce her husband for his infidelities, but it soured her life.
The de Silva family consists of three off springs. The eldest son is a self-made successful businessman. The second girl has a good job but gave it up to bring up her children. The third girl still works and has a most articulate daughter that I am keeping a discreet eye on because I noted the early promise of extraordinary talents in terms of little signs that I picked up since she was a toddler. If you read this without other things I revealed, you would probably think Mrs de Silva has done a remarkable job and ought to be pleased with her children. But life is usually more complicated than that. The early decades of financial struggle has created a lop sided disposition in this woman to cause her to hope and expect too much. Hence a trouble free old age did not measure up to her earlier expectations. Moreover, the sight of her "useless" husband in her abode brings out the gall that give a bad taste to her morning, afternoon and night.
Mrs Harun also has three children. The eldest daughter holds two degrees and is married to a airline pilot. The second daughter is working and happily married to a successful real estate agent. The youngest is a son who hold a good job and recently married his sweet heart of many years. That sounds wonderful, right? Yet why was it that this mother spent most of her productive years lying in the dark of her bed room? Most days her family has to pool all the time and leisure into covering her role and running the house. In fact, when she finally turned up at her son's wedding dinner, her two loving daughters were most surprised and delighted.
So these are two cases -- just the tip of the iceberg. Not every depressed person actually decide to end it all by some form of suicide.
Old people are depressed too, for one reason or another. I will cite two examples in my community. There is this couple with three children, we shall call them the de Silva clan. Mr de Silva is an artist. Now that is often a vocation that comes with some financial hardship. As a result, Mrs de Silva has been chronically depressed throughout her long marriage to this talented but not very rich man.
Then there are Mr Harun and his family. Mr Harun is a businessman. In this case there is certainly no financial problem. But often where there is a lot of wealth, the rich man attracts much female attention. As a Chinese proverb puts it, the gentleman loves youth and beauty, the beauties love money and men who enjoy flattery. Mrs Harun did not divorce her husband for his infidelities, but it soured her life.
The de Silva family consists of three off springs. The eldest son is a self-made successful businessman. The second girl has a good job but gave it up to bring up her children. The third girl still works and has a most articulate daughter that I am keeping a discreet eye on because I noted the early promise of extraordinary talents in terms of little signs that I picked up since she was a toddler. If you read this without other things I revealed, you would probably think Mrs de Silva has done a remarkable job and ought to be pleased with her children. But life is usually more complicated than that. The early decades of financial struggle has created a lop sided disposition in this woman to cause her to hope and expect too much. Hence a trouble free old age did not measure up to her earlier expectations. Moreover, the sight of her "useless" husband in her abode brings out the gall that give a bad taste to her morning, afternoon and night.
Mrs Harun also has three children. The eldest daughter holds two degrees and is married to a airline pilot. The second daughter is working and happily married to a successful real estate agent. The youngest is a son who hold a good job and recently married his sweet heart of many years. That sounds wonderful, right? Yet why was it that this mother spent most of her productive years lying in the dark of her bed room? Most days her family has to pool all the time and leisure into covering her role and running the house. In fact, when she finally turned up at her son's wedding dinner, her two loving daughters were most surprised and delighted.
So these are two cases -- just the tip of the iceberg. Not every depressed person actually decide to end it all by some form of suicide.
(1036) Women's Retreat
I never imagine in my wildest dream that I would willingly sign up for a ladies' retreat. Now that sounds terrible to anyone else but me. I would not dare to say this statement in front of anyone except my nearest and dearest. But it is the absolute truth.
You see, my husband would tell anyone willing to listen that his wife thinks like men. My mom would say that I am extraordinary. My son thinks I'm one of a kind. My youngest would say that very few of her peer's moms are like me, and I would change the topic there and then as anything else that come out of her mouth after that sentence would not be too complimentary.
Yet I have just signed up for a ladies' program a few days back, willingly.
My friend has a daughter who is planning to pursue a course called Entertainment Arts. Now there is nothing wrong with that. But I must say that what is good for another girl is not quite suitable for this young lady. I am now old enough to realize one must not waste her breath to tell such things to a 17 year old. I have been telling God how sorry I feel for my friend. While it is perfectly ok for the daughter to bumble around feeling her way, the mother could not afford to waste extra money on supporting a course that may not lead to steady and gainful employment.
This young person is shy, not at all articulate in her speech and very naïve for her age. I am not saying she cannot change fast enough to work back stage. But her goal seemed to be front stage and she loves to sing. The latest fad I heard is she wants to forego rice totally to lose weight. Just two days ago I read about a main land Chinese man who substituted sweet fruits for dinner during three long months who developed some kind of toxic high sugar level leading to insulin injection diabetic syndrome.
While ten horses would not be able to drag me to a program lasting 36 hours made up of two hundred women, I am willing to accompany this young girl there; hoping that she would meet someone with the right experience whom she would respect and listen to. I know that is a long shot. Well, it is up to God to pull off something amazing now. As I have proceeded with great caution and with prayers over a period of weeks. Most importantly, I sense great peace. Since my Lord is the Prince of Peace, the peace he gives is something priceless. This peace transcends all understanding and situations and circumstances. Still, what I am embarking on is unique and new, totally out of character for me.
You see, my husband would tell anyone willing to listen that his wife thinks like men. My mom would say that I am extraordinary. My son thinks I'm one of a kind. My youngest would say that very few of her peer's moms are like me, and I would change the topic there and then as anything else that come out of her mouth after that sentence would not be too complimentary.
Yet I have just signed up for a ladies' program a few days back, willingly.
My friend has a daughter who is planning to pursue a course called Entertainment Arts. Now there is nothing wrong with that. But I must say that what is good for another girl is not quite suitable for this young lady. I am now old enough to realize one must not waste her breath to tell such things to a 17 year old. I have been telling God how sorry I feel for my friend. While it is perfectly ok for the daughter to bumble around feeling her way, the mother could not afford to waste extra money on supporting a course that may not lead to steady and gainful employment.
This young person is shy, not at all articulate in her speech and very naïve for her age. I am not saying she cannot change fast enough to work back stage. But her goal seemed to be front stage and she loves to sing. The latest fad I heard is she wants to forego rice totally to lose weight. Just two days ago I read about a main land Chinese man who substituted sweet fruits for dinner during three long months who developed some kind of toxic high sugar level leading to insulin injection diabetic syndrome.
While ten horses would not be able to drag me to a program lasting 36 hours made up of two hundred women, I am willing to accompany this young girl there; hoping that she would meet someone with the right experience whom she would respect and listen to. I know that is a long shot. Well, it is up to God to pull off something amazing now. As I have proceeded with great caution and with prayers over a period of weeks. Most importantly, I sense great peace. Since my Lord is the Prince of Peace, the peace he gives is something priceless. This peace transcends all understanding and situations and circumstances. Still, what I am embarking on is unique and new, totally out of character for me.
Friday, November 23, 2018
(1035) Atmosphere in a meeting
My son has this theory: if there are three strong will women together in any room, electric sparks fly and he will flee.
I had fun recalling my care group of old. In those days, Auntie Molly and Linda were like cat and dog. Now Auntie Molly is too old to drive out at night, she started attending a day group. Linda passed away three months ago. Well, the group displays a totally different dynamics now.
Ever since old uncle Tom resigned, the organisation I used to volunteer in has had three lady Executive Directors. Of course I have been away for nearly three years in north-eastern Borneo. Then I was in the hospital for a few months. Since then I have visited off and on but did not want to repeat my visit too often. Today I finally figured out why, in the words of Fred: there were too many women. Now I am not saying I don't like women, after all I am one. But sometimes you put certain women in the same room, I would suffer in silence for that occasion only and later vote with my feet: I would not return until I forget about those uncomfortable moments.
That also explains why I shy away from any lady's meeting, whether it was in Silver City or in my present church. In Silver City I was in my thirties, most of the office bearers were in their fifties. Here in my present church there is little structure or hardly any program. Interestingly I have been attending a Brethren church ladies' group of late, different denomination but I found it well organised and interesting. When there are a lot of women together, a strong leader is required. Else a sensitive bystander would feel under currents and be totally out of place.
I had fun recalling my care group of old. In those days, Auntie Molly and Linda were like cat and dog. Now Auntie Molly is too old to drive out at night, she started attending a day group. Linda passed away three months ago. Well, the group displays a totally different dynamics now.
Ever since old uncle Tom resigned, the organisation I used to volunteer in has had three lady Executive Directors. Of course I have been away for nearly three years in north-eastern Borneo. Then I was in the hospital for a few months. Since then I have visited off and on but did not want to repeat my visit too often. Today I finally figured out why, in the words of Fred: there were too many women. Now I am not saying I don't like women, after all I am one. But sometimes you put certain women in the same room, I would suffer in silence for that occasion only and later vote with my feet: I would not return until I forget about those uncomfortable moments.
That also explains why I shy away from any lady's meeting, whether it was in Silver City or in my present church. In Silver City I was in my thirties, most of the office bearers were in their fifties. Here in my present church there is little structure or hardly any program. Interestingly I have been attending a Brethren church ladies' group of late, different denomination but I found it well organised and interesting. When there are a lot of women together, a strong leader is required. Else a sensitive bystander would feel under currents and be totally out of place.
(1034) Electric bill
In the state of Selangor, any water bill less than ten Malaysian Dollars and any electric bill of less than twenty Malaysian Dollars are paid by the State government.
Recently I was house sitting for my cousin and keeping my aunt company while the family was vacationing in Spain. While looking at old bills, I noted that their electric bill was $15.25. That was very low for a four-room house with two air-conditioners. For a fact I know they use an electric kettle to boil all their filtered water. I marvelled at their small carbon foot print. Since I handed housekeeping back to the family, I have consciously turned off fans and lights on in any empty area in my own home. I have no air-conditioner in my place. Moreover I use gas stove to boil my drinking water. Yet my electric bill is often between twenty and twenty five Dollars.
I mentioned this fact to my old friend Gladys. She commented that if there are four full time head count in the house, the bill could only be so low if there is one person who constantly turn things off. In her house her husband was the budget conscious one. You see, there is a huge difference between being green or being miserly. If my cousin is not poor, not pinching pennies, not too concern about carbon foot print, then could he or his wife be exerting control over this matter of electric usage? It is certainly interesting to look at the matter that way. I personally believe in recycling, in conserving resources and being a good steward. Yet I am not excessively compulsive over electric or water usage.
Recently I was house sitting for my cousin and keeping my aunt company while the family was vacationing in Spain. While looking at old bills, I noted that their electric bill was $15.25. That was very low for a four-room house with two air-conditioners. For a fact I know they use an electric kettle to boil all their filtered water. I marvelled at their small carbon foot print. Since I handed housekeeping back to the family, I have consciously turned off fans and lights on in any empty area in my own home. I have no air-conditioner in my place. Moreover I use gas stove to boil my drinking water. Yet my electric bill is often between twenty and twenty five Dollars.
I mentioned this fact to my old friend Gladys. She commented that if there are four full time head count in the house, the bill could only be so low if there is one person who constantly turn things off. In her house her husband was the budget conscious one. You see, there is a huge difference between being green or being miserly. If my cousin is not poor, not pinching pennies, not too concern about carbon foot print, then could he or his wife be exerting control over this matter of electric usage? It is certainly interesting to look at the matter that way. I personally believe in recycling, in conserving resources and being a good steward. Yet I am not excessively compulsive over electric or water usage.
(1033) Parents' Preference
We'll be talking about two sets of brothers. The first set is Ken and Kenneth, they are Corrine's (The Poor Little Rich Girl post) cousins. The second set is Jon and Johnny, these are sons of my good friend.
Ken is thirteen years old and Kenneth is two years younger. Ken is a straight forward boy and is rather serious in temperament. Kenneth is quite a charmer. To me, both have regular features and are pleasant looking. However, the parents and the grandparents dote on the younger. If anything is wrong, Ken definitely bears the blame.
Jon is the eldest of three children. Johnny is two years younger. I still remember listening to my friend relating how the paediatrician gave a talking to on food refusal to her and her husband. She is a judge professionally, having children rather late in life made her an anxious mom. Years later, I could see that she allowed that experience to cloud her judgement on her eldest child. She still smarted over the shame of being told off, having to admit that a little child of thirteen months manipulated both her and her husband.
Johnny is a child of good circumstances, after his birth, many things went right for both mom and dad. As a result of that, the parents greatly preferred him to the other two. On top of that, Johnny has gift of the gab, he is handsome and confident.
Parents sometimes wear coloured glasses. In both cases, outsiders could see at a glance that Ken and Jon are nice and trustworthy boys. Yet respective parents beg to differ. They were taken in by the sweet words from the younger boys. Unless things are clear cut and obvious, the second kids get away with a lot and the elder ones tend to bear the short end of the stick.
Both families are quite wealthy. My friend inherited millions and is adding to the pile. Ken and Kenneth's grand parents have extensive land holdings. As far as my son and I could see, Ken and Jon are walking on the straight and narrow path. Kenneth began to associate with the playful and the lazy ones. Johnny preferred to mix with exclusively white boys after the family immigrated to Australia. That in itself is nothing wrong, the only thing one is concerned about is if he is ashamed of his Asian heritage. Nothing will make his skin white, even Michael Jackson remained black after all his skin bleaching. It will be interesting to watch what happen to these four boys ten years down the line.
Ken is thirteen years old and Kenneth is two years younger. Ken is a straight forward boy and is rather serious in temperament. Kenneth is quite a charmer. To me, both have regular features and are pleasant looking. However, the parents and the grandparents dote on the younger. If anything is wrong, Ken definitely bears the blame.
Jon is the eldest of three children. Johnny is two years younger. I still remember listening to my friend relating how the paediatrician gave a talking to on food refusal to her and her husband. She is a judge professionally, having children rather late in life made her an anxious mom. Years later, I could see that she allowed that experience to cloud her judgement on her eldest child. She still smarted over the shame of being told off, having to admit that a little child of thirteen months manipulated both her and her husband.
Johnny is a child of good circumstances, after his birth, many things went right for both mom and dad. As a result of that, the parents greatly preferred him to the other two. On top of that, Johnny has gift of the gab, he is handsome and confident.
Parents sometimes wear coloured glasses. In both cases, outsiders could see at a glance that Ken and Jon are nice and trustworthy boys. Yet respective parents beg to differ. They were taken in by the sweet words from the younger boys. Unless things are clear cut and obvious, the second kids get away with a lot and the elder ones tend to bear the short end of the stick.
Both families are quite wealthy. My friend inherited millions and is adding to the pile. Ken and Kenneth's grand parents have extensive land holdings. As far as my son and I could see, Ken and Jon are walking on the straight and narrow path. Kenneth began to associate with the playful and the lazy ones. Johnny preferred to mix with exclusively white boys after the family immigrated to Australia. That in itself is nothing wrong, the only thing one is concerned about is if he is ashamed of his Asian heritage. Nothing will make his skin white, even Michael Jackson remained black after all his skin bleaching. It will be interesting to watch what happen to these four boys ten years down the line.
(1032) Poor Little Rich Girl
Corrine is in Grade Six now. I first met her when she was in Grade Two, she came on a Tuesday night in September. She has fine bones, rather short and tiny for her age. She has a pretty heart-shaped face with elfin features.
She was the first of three children that came for tutoring with my son. The other two are brothers who turned out to be her cousins. Corrine's dad is a brother to the two brothers' mom. Little by little, we learned more about her. She has two brothers, one in college away and the other much older than her. She lives quite a few miles away in a big house. She is very weak in all three languages but very good with colours and styles. I bought some cheap kit in making friendship bands, she had a lot of fun teaching me how to weave while waiting for her father to come pick her up.
Looking at her clothes, it is quite clear that she came from an above-average income family. Yet why is she under weight? Her two brothers, my son and I saw one each in her mother's café, we think. They are fair and more than amply proportioned. Corrine is dark skin. She has an Indonesian maid at home, but a fridge that could be empty. Her dinner could be white porridge with soy sauce. I began to cook more just in case she came empty stomach. How can a little girl learn on an empty stomach? I may not be rich, but food is a plenty in my kitchen. I began to buy biscuits that Corrine likes.
After two and a half years in that town, I moved out of a rented house and my son took a suite of two rooms. I came back to peninsular Malaya. I asked my son how Corrine is. She is still thin and small for her age. She passed her UPSR. Next year she will be in Remove, a remedial class to help her to adjust to a curriculum in Malay. Lately she was spending time in her grandma's house. One could see it on her skin, full of mosquito bites, some festering. How is her mom? Don't know. Her two café closed. Part of what is happening because of the economic slow down due to GST.
For the only daughter of a man who owns houses in Kota Kinabalu, Kuala Lumpur, Singapore and of course the family home in town, Corrine is having some adverse circumstances to overcome. One wonders if she was an unwanted child. Or could it be that she is not her current mother's biological child? She is far from being academically gifted. But she is highly intelligent relationally speaking. She is graceful in her movements. She has nimble fingers, could thread beads easily and colour co-ordinate beautifully. It is a good thing she is not from a poor family, else missing out on the basic education would hinder her from progressing. But with money, she will find her special niche in fields I could not begin to imagine that the internet opened up recently.
She was the first of three children that came for tutoring with my son. The other two are brothers who turned out to be her cousins. Corrine's dad is a brother to the two brothers' mom. Little by little, we learned more about her. She has two brothers, one in college away and the other much older than her. She lives quite a few miles away in a big house. She is very weak in all three languages but very good with colours and styles. I bought some cheap kit in making friendship bands, she had a lot of fun teaching me how to weave while waiting for her father to come pick her up.
Looking at her clothes, it is quite clear that she came from an above-average income family. Yet why is she under weight? Her two brothers, my son and I saw one each in her mother's café, we think. They are fair and more than amply proportioned. Corrine is dark skin. She has an Indonesian maid at home, but a fridge that could be empty. Her dinner could be white porridge with soy sauce. I began to cook more just in case she came empty stomach. How can a little girl learn on an empty stomach? I may not be rich, but food is a plenty in my kitchen. I began to buy biscuits that Corrine likes.
After two and a half years in that town, I moved out of a rented house and my son took a suite of two rooms. I came back to peninsular Malaya. I asked my son how Corrine is. She is still thin and small for her age. She passed her UPSR. Next year she will be in Remove, a remedial class to help her to adjust to a curriculum in Malay. Lately she was spending time in her grandma's house. One could see it on her skin, full of mosquito bites, some festering. How is her mom? Don't know. Her two café closed. Part of what is happening because of the economic slow down due to GST.
For the only daughter of a man who owns houses in Kota Kinabalu, Kuala Lumpur, Singapore and of course the family home in town, Corrine is having some adverse circumstances to overcome. One wonders if she was an unwanted child. Or could it be that she is not her current mother's biological child? She is far from being academically gifted. But she is highly intelligent relationally speaking. She is graceful in her movements. She has nimble fingers, could thread beads easily and colour co-ordinate beautifully. It is a good thing she is not from a poor family, else missing out on the basic education would hinder her from progressing. But with money, she will find her special niche in fields I could not begin to imagine that the internet opened up recently.
(1031) Application to a mission organisation
I attended the prayer day of a local mission body, part of a bigger international organisation. After the event, lunch was served. Another visitor was filling in her application forms. She told my husband that she has struggled with it for weeks.
That prompted me to think of the three pages in my hand a good twenty years ago. I attended their camp in Cameron's Highland. Diane handed me the forms, a little longer than Australian Immigration Forms I obtained five years prior. But for a convert, it is difficult to find two Christian friends, two Christian colleagues, one Christian boss, one Christian room or housemate... I ended up returning the mission forms, did not write down anything. Just like the other set, easier to fill but I had no peace of mind.
Twenty five years later, I am glad I did not migrate to Australia. I heard that in the foreseeable future, one may not have gender on the birth certificate there. Most of my peers migrated there for their children's future. Yet what kind of future if the grand children are encouraged by the system to declare their gender to be male or female... and perhaps undergo gender reassigning operations, funded by generous government subsidy.
I am equally happy that I did not apply to any mission organisation twenty years ago. I am free to come and go, not tied to any organisation. During the tenure of the previous Executive Director, I went there to assist an older bi-lingual worker. Now I visit off and on, not really clicking with any of the staff or visitors, so far. I have a friend there to channel my recycling efforts to people in need in the Puchong area. Recently loads of things passed through my house onto different destinations. As my house is small, as far as possible, I pass on things within 48 hours. I did not realise how a seemingly neat and tidy house could yield up tons of good but pretty useless items kept because of monetary value. Perhaps it is because my neighbour has many cabinets and wardrobes. She has rich cousins and sisters who like to shop and give her things. This is a second house I help to vacate. The first time my real estate friend was asked by a daughter in England to get rid of her mother's effects. I went to assist and took home lots of things useful to me and my family. Lorry loads of furniture and other stuffs went to goodwill. It is sad that one's treasure would become others' rubbish in the blink of an eye. It is a good lesson for me to try not to accumulate things in my lifetime.
That prompted me to think of the three pages in my hand a good twenty years ago. I attended their camp in Cameron's Highland. Diane handed me the forms, a little longer than Australian Immigration Forms I obtained five years prior. But for a convert, it is difficult to find two Christian friends, two Christian colleagues, one Christian boss, one Christian room or housemate... I ended up returning the mission forms, did not write down anything. Just like the other set, easier to fill but I had no peace of mind.
Twenty five years later, I am glad I did not migrate to Australia. I heard that in the foreseeable future, one may not have gender on the birth certificate there. Most of my peers migrated there for their children's future. Yet what kind of future if the grand children are encouraged by the system to declare their gender to be male or female... and perhaps undergo gender reassigning operations, funded by generous government subsidy.
I am equally happy that I did not apply to any mission organisation twenty years ago. I am free to come and go, not tied to any organisation. During the tenure of the previous Executive Director, I went there to assist an older bi-lingual worker. Now I visit off and on, not really clicking with any of the staff or visitors, so far. I have a friend there to channel my recycling efforts to people in need in the Puchong area. Recently loads of things passed through my house onto different destinations. As my house is small, as far as possible, I pass on things within 48 hours. I did not realise how a seemingly neat and tidy house could yield up tons of good but pretty useless items kept because of monetary value. Perhaps it is because my neighbour has many cabinets and wardrobes. She has rich cousins and sisters who like to shop and give her things. This is a second house I help to vacate. The first time my real estate friend was asked by a daughter in England to get rid of her mother's effects. I went to assist and took home lots of things useful to me and my family. Lorry loads of furniture and other stuffs went to goodwill. It is sad that one's treasure would become others' rubbish in the blink of an eye. It is a good lesson for me to try not to accumulate things in my lifetime.
(1030) The Overcoming Tribe
After twelve years of rubbing shoulders with children with differing abilities in Silver City, I asked God where the adults are.
This is the thirteenth year I am working as a listener to women who formerly had learning differences. All in, I have spent almost twenty five years of my adult life working in my area of passion. Looking back, the very first person I listened to in Silver City was probably one of the group. She was very accomplished both academically and professionally. But when it came to human relationships, whether among friends, neighbours or relatives; she was rather clueless. Each of us may be given a certain number of marbles, it is up to each of us to decide where to place the marbles. She happened to diligently placed hers in furthering her financial future.
After the door to education and remedial help was firmly closed, I met two individuals: one who was troubled by her financial troubles and another by her marital woes. Let us call the first Veron and the latter Zoe. At different times, they were either depressed or suicidal. Today, they are both doing well. Veron is starting a Masters degree with an eye to start a women's shelter. Zoe is reconciled with her husband and reconnected with her children.
Contrasting Veron and Zoe, Zoe is obviously troubled by some form of learning disorder in her childhood. Zoe must have overcome all her differences early in life. Yet both carried the same type of hurt and to a certain extent, left-over anger. Zoe still has a few easily identifiable symptoms, Veron is articulate, successful in everything she touched until her business bankruptcy. Zoe is receptive and easily receives healing from the gentle holy spirit. Veron thinks everyone works with some form of lack and it is no big deal, one should not look back, not even one little peek. But sometimes one has to look back for a limited time in order to clear the way for the future. And so year in year out, I see Zoe improving slowly and steadily, Veron struggle mightily with fear of height and confine places, now progressing and there retreating.
Veron has moved out of my area. I talk to her now and then. I realize I am a rainy day helper. I wish her well. Her sister became my friend, therefor I am still up to date with important developments in Veron's life.
Zoe lives more or less with her restored family in Thailand. She still owns a house in my neighbourhood. Once in a blue moon I meet and catch up with her.
I am currently working with two single mothers. One just downsized from a complete house to one room in her married daughter's house. She started caring for her grandchildren. The other has two dependent children. Life goes on. One does not retire in God's community, no matter how old one becomes, one can still pray. And so one labours on, with much love from God.
This is the thirteenth year I am working as a listener to women who formerly had learning differences. All in, I have spent almost twenty five years of my adult life working in my area of passion. Looking back, the very first person I listened to in Silver City was probably one of the group. She was very accomplished both academically and professionally. But when it came to human relationships, whether among friends, neighbours or relatives; she was rather clueless. Each of us may be given a certain number of marbles, it is up to each of us to decide where to place the marbles. She happened to diligently placed hers in furthering her financial future.
After the door to education and remedial help was firmly closed, I met two individuals: one who was troubled by her financial troubles and another by her marital woes. Let us call the first Veron and the latter Zoe. At different times, they were either depressed or suicidal. Today, they are both doing well. Veron is starting a Masters degree with an eye to start a women's shelter. Zoe is reconciled with her husband and reconnected with her children.
Contrasting Veron and Zoe, Zoe is obviously troubled by some form of learning disorder in her childhood. Zoe must have overcome all her differences early in life. Yet both carried the same type of hurt and to a certain extent, left-over anger. Zoe still has a few easily identifiable symptoms, Veron is articulate, successful in everything she touched until her business bankruptcy. Zoe is receptive and easily receives healing from the gentle holy spirit. Veron thinks everyone works with some form of lack and it is no big deal, one should not look back, not even one little peek. But sometimes one has to look back for a limited time in order to clear the way for the future. And so year in year out, I see Zoe improving slowly and steadily, Veron struggle mightily with fear of height and confine places, now progressing and there retreating.
Veron has moved out of my area. I talk to her now and then. I realize I am a rainy day helper. I wish her well. Her sister became my friend, therefor I am still up to date with important developments in Veron's life.
Zoe lives more or less with her restored family in Thailand. She still owns a house in my neighbourhood. Once in a blue moon I meet and catch up with her.
I am currently working with two single mothers. One just downsized from a complete house to one room in her married daughter's house. She started caring for her grandchildren. The other has two dependent children. Life goes on. One does not retire in God's community, no matter how old one becomes, one can still pray. And so one labours on, with much love from God.
(1029) Disappearing Sons
Recently two neighbours and I got together and had breakfast. Among many topics, we talked about our sons.
Kimberly's son took a job at the other end of town and decided to stay in company hostel. Jemima's elder son went to work in Dubai. The second one got married lately and moved out. My eldest has been in northern Kalimantan for four years or so. Janice's elder son bought a house and moved out. The second one has been lost for two years in between school and career. He must have found a job out of town and gotten started lately. Cathy's son has not been seen for about six weeks, we guessed he moved in with his girl friend.
Strangely, the girls are around. Kimberly's daughter finished school and started working. Jemima's daughter is in her late thirties and still bringing up her children in the neighbourhood. Cathy's daughter is a tour guide, off and on I still see her in between trips. Come to think of it most of my neighbours have more sons than daughters. My daughters are still home.
For my mother's generation, sons are more important than daughters. Things are totally different now, I think most women prefer daughters. Still, those with rich husbands are somewhat under pressure to have at least one son.
My mother has had three years of education post Second World War. She still reads Chinese newspaper. The lack of higher education and non-existent career caused her to depend on her men folk for finances. She lives with her eldest son according to age-old Chinese custom. I happened to marry a second son and therefore has no such obligation to house my in-laws. Anyway, my father-in-law was a government servant with pension income that takes care of his wife beyond his death.
Kimberly is gainfully employed beyond her retirement. Jemima is planning to seek her fortune in a faraway Western country after Chinese New Year. I am living simply with a semi-retired husband and am publishing a book each year. Janice is a babysitter that operates from home. Cathy is independently rich with inherited wealth. None of us plan to live with our eldest son, though none of us dare to say we don't need them as each of us grow older, who know what old age might bring. We are all fortunate to be well educated under the post British colonial educational system. We each of us is far better off than our counterparts in Africa or rural parts of India. Say what one wants to, colonial system is not all negative as historians portray it to be.
Kimberly's son took a job at the other end of town and decided to stay in company hostel. Jemima's elder son went to work in Dubai. The second one got married lately and moved out. My eldest has been in northern Kalimantan for four years or so. Janice's elder son bought a house and moved out. The second one has been lost for two years in between school and career. He must have found a job out of town and gotten started lately. Cathy's son has not been seen for about six weeks, we guessed he moved in with his girl friend.
Strangely, the girls are around. Kimberly's daughter finished school and started working. Jemima's daughter is in her late thirties and still bringing up her children in the neighbourhood. Cathy's daughter is a tour guide, off and on I still see her in between trips. Come to think of it most of my neighbours have more sons than daughters. My daughters are still home.
For my mother's generation, sons are more important than daughters. Things are totally different now, I think most women prefer daughters. Still, those with rich husbands are somewhat under pressure to have at least one son.
My mother has had three years of education post Second World War. She still reads Chinese newspaper. The lack of higher education and non-existent career caused her to depend on her men folk for finances. She lives with her eldest son according to age-old Chinese custom. I happened to marry a second son and therefore has no such obligation to house my in-laws. Anyway, my father-in-law was a government servant with pension income that takes care of his wife beyond his death.
Kimberly is gainfully employed beyond her retirement. Jemima is planning to seek her fortune in a faraway Western country after Chinese New Year. I am living simply with a semi-retired husband and am publishing a book each year. Janice is a babysitter that operates from home. Cathy is independently rich with inherited wealth. None of us plan to live with our eldest son, though none of us dare to say we don't need them as each of us grow older, who know what old age might bring. We are all fortunate to be well educated under the post British colonial educational system. We each of us is far better off than our counterparts in Africa or rural parts of India. Say what one wants to, colonial system is not all negative as historians portray it to be.
Thursday, November 15, 2018
(1028) Interesting Marriage 2
I have a friend from Thailand. As married women get together, we talk about old friends, husbands, children, father-in-laws and perhaps mother-out-laws.
One day we were talking about lucky wives, since there were five women there, we came up with five examples. My Thai friend told us about her childhood friend, later all four of the listeners unanimously voted her friend as the luckiest.
Rich husbands abound, but often the wives of rich men have heavy responsibilities. Some have many children. Others have to house the husband's extended family members. Yet a few might have their calendar fully marked with social events. Some might have to contend with second wives or mistresses.
We'll call this lady Nam. Nam remained childless by choice, the decision seconded by her husband. They live in an upmarket condo in Bangkok. He is an accountant of a notable company there. While hubby was busy earning the bacon, Nam went her round doing facial, massage, spa, high-tea, shopping... She does not work, she does not cook, she does not even clean house. We the listeners all imagine Nam to look like Miss Thailand. When our friend showed us her photo on Whatsapp, we were really disappointed. But, well, after all beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
The punch line came when the story teller told us the secret of that marriage's dynamic. Nam's mother-in-law said that it was impossible to see the loving couple out of the condo from Friday after work to Saturday dinner time. This is to be expected every week-end, 52 weeks a year. Whatever most wives are expected to do on week days, Nam made it all up by performing her magic in bed during those hours. The end result is we have a very satisfied and happy husband. To each his own.
One day we were talking about lucky wives, since there were five women there, we came up with five examples. My Thai friend told us about her childhood friend, later all four of the listeners unanimously voted her friend as the luckiest.
Rich husbands abound, but often the wives of rich men have heavy responsibilities. Some have many children. Others have to house the husband's extended family members. Yet a few might have their calendar fully marked with social events. Some might have to contend with second wives or mistresses.
We'll call this lady Nam. Nam remained childless by choice, the decision seconded by her husband. They live in an upmarket condo in Bangkok. He is an accountant of a notable company there. While hubby was busy earning the bacon, Nam went her round doing facial, massage, spa, high-tea, shopping... She does not work, she does not cook, she does not even clean house. We the listeners all imagine Nam to look like Miss Thailand. When our friend showed us her photo on Whatsapp, we were really disappointed. But, well, after all beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
The punch line came when the story teller told us the secret of that marriage's dynamic. Nam's mother-in-law said that it was impossible to see the loving couple out of the condo from Friday after work to Saturday dinner time. This is to be expected every week-end, 52 weeks a year. Whatever most wives are expected to do on week days, Nam made it all up by performing her magic in bed during those hours. The end result is we have a very satisfied and happy husband. To each his own.
(1027) An Interesting Marriage
The other day I was giving my six-cent worth of suggestions to a friend who lives two weeks in Singapore and two weeks in Malaysia. First one is the company my youngest child interned in was recently reorganised, it is a publishing house with offices both in Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. Since working in such a place is highly stressful, personnel turnover is high. My friend Ms S could look for a job in such a place and work in both offices. That company centralised its departments into parts of Asia instead of individual entities in each country. She has been editing for friends for years. Recently she proof reads as a part-timer for the company mentioned above.
The second is I think if she writes a collection of marriage stories, I would volunteer to sell it to my crowd. After all, my eldest is a big-picture editor, my youngest is a meticulous proof reader and my husband is a self-taught publisher. Since I hardly expect her to take up my crack-pot ideas, I might as well write up my contributions to her imaginary book.
There is a young man I know, let us call him Howard. He picked up a girl friend when he was in Form Four. Everyone predicted the calf love not to last. Everybody was wrong. He did marry her in his mid-twenties. Counting on my fingers, I see nine years of courtship. She ended her education at Form 5 and he went on to earn a Bachelor's degree part-time. She works in retail food and he actually has three jobs. Howard sells insurance, has been enterprising in starting some on-line business and also his day corporate job. They have two children. From all angles, it is a happy marriage.
The interesting part came when Howard's mom went to stay with them to care for their two children. The lovely kitchen remain a decorative space until the old lady started cooking in it. The lovely wife does not cook at all, not even in boiling an egg for breakfast. All the cleaning, laundry, ironing... are done by Howard. Yet it is a willing buyer, willing seller situation. There is no argument, no quarrel, no disharmony of any kind. Perhaps one can see the one possible reason why Howard's wife lost one of her brothers at age thirty five to a fatal stroke. Assuming the same sort of dynamics work in the deceased's household, the deceased probably had three jobs, and the would-be widow did not lift a finger in terms of housework.
One thing out of the ordinary we notice is that even in public, quite a few years after the wedding, Howard would sit right next to his wife and half lean against her. She would be stroking his palm, apart from eating, the loving stroking would go on hour after hour in a gathering. When the palm turns red, she would be playing with his fingers.
I suppose one gets what he wants from the spouse, he would be more than happy to take over her entire role except in childbirth. Life can be stranger than fiction. Yet Howard is happy. His wife is happy. Each of the two children is still young. Perhaps their boy will one day be a very good catch for some couple's daughter, who is willing to participate in public love play(that is seldom seen in Malaysia).
The second is I think if she writes a collection of marriage stories, I would volunteer to sell it to my crowd. After all, my eldest is a big-picture editor, my youngest is a meticulous proof reader and my husband is a self-taught publisher. Since I hardly expect her to take up my crack-pot ideas, I might as well write up my contributions to her imaginary book.
There is a young man I know, let us call him Howard. He picked up a girl friend when he was in Form Four. Everyone predicted the calf love not to last. Everybody was wrong. He did marry her in his mid-twenties. Counting on my fingers, I see nine years of courtship. She ended her education at Form 5 and he went on to earn a Bachelor's degree part-time. She works in retail food and he actually has three jobs. Howard sells insurance, has been enterprising in starting some on-line business and also his day corporate job. They have two children. From all angles, it is a happy marriage.
The interesting part came when Howard's mom went to stay with them to care for their two children. The lovely kitchen remain a decorative space until the old lady started cooking in it. The lovely wife does not cook at all, not even in boiling an egg for breakfast. All the cleaning, laundry, ironing... are done by Howard. Yet it is a willing buyer, willing seller situation. There is no argument, no quarrel, no disharmony of any kind. Perhaps one can see the one possible reason why Howard's wife lost one of her brothers at age thirty five to a fatal stroke. Assuming the same sort of dynamics work in the deceased's household, the deceased probably had three jobs, and the would-be widow did not lift a finger in terms of housework.
One thing out of the ordinary we notice is that even in public, quite a few years after the wedding, Howard would sit right next to his wife and half lean against her. She would be stroking his palm, apart from eating, the loving stroking would go on hour after hour in a gathering. When the palm turns red, she would be playing with his fingers.
I suppose one gets what he wants from the spouse, he would be more than happy to take over her entire role except in childbirth. Life can be stranger than fiction. Yet Howard is happy. His wife is happy. Each of the two children is still young. Perhaps their boy will one day be a very good catch for some couple's daughter, who is willing to participate in public love play(that is seldom seen in Malaysia).
(1026) The Chrysanthemum Lover and other tales by Wong Ming Yook
This is my favourite of these four books. My daughter said it contains the most imaginary and other worldly tales.
There are three stories that I like, number 1 same name as the book, The Hog's Goodbye and Drinking Tea with the Immortals in the Wintry Woods. Vaguely I remember a story my grandma told me more than half a century ago that is like The Chrysanthemum Lover. In my grandma's version it was another flower. But the rest of the story line was almost alike. Well, I can understand how a person who had substance could leave the corrupt city and live as a recluse far away in a rural retreat.
The ancient Chinese admired their current national flower, which blooms in winter, I think. Then the next is orchid, chrysanthemum and lastly bamboo. It is little wonder that chrysanthemum was chosen. The scholarly seemed to have their symbols in every plant, tree and herb.
The Hog's Goodbye is a little like Beauty and the Beast, only the venue is not in an enchanted castle. A lot of this tale took place in a jungle. I like how the story was woven: a sailor who was rescued by the hog and later brought him books. The seal that found its way to the hog enabled me to imagine the hog going to claim his rightful place in a royal palace.
The last tale: Drinking Tea with the Immortals in the Wintry Woods reminded me how my grandma said that in the past hundreds or thousands of years ago, immortals often pretend they were ordinary people and roamed the earth, that coincided with what was recorded in Genesis of the old testament.
Angels would come down to visit Sodom before its destruction.
I certainly enjoyed these four books more than many a best seller. More importantly, I realized different stories appealed to different people. I must explain that my second editor going through my second collection of short stories suggested I kick out six because they were weak. Around that time I actually took out all six of them. My first editor asked about my decision and suggested that I put in extra effort to rewrite them. Then as my daughter and I compared notes on what each of us like about Wong's stories, I realized that many of her favourites were actually what English teachers considered as weak plots. In went five of the six, only one was left out as it reveals more of the author. It is quite ok to blog and tell a fair bit as it is done anonymously. Once a book has an author name and a publisher it is then traceable. I thank God that these four books fell into my hands as I was deciding to include or exclude those five stories. Certain things are rather providential which happen in a particular timely manner.
There are three stories that I like, number 1 same name as the book, The Hog's Goodbye and Drinking Tea with the Immortals in the Wintry Woods. Vaguely I remember a story my grandma told me more than half a century ago that is like The Chrysanthemum Lover. In my grandma's version it was another flower. But the rest of the story line was almost alike. Well, I can understand how a person who had substance could leave the corrupt city and live as a recluse far away in a rural retreat.
The ancient Chinese admired their current national flower, which blooms in winter, I think. Then the next is orchid, chrysanthemum and lastly bamboo. It is little wonder that chrysanthemum was chosen. The scholarly seemed to have their symbols in every plant, tree and herb.
The Hog's Goodbye is a little like Beauty and the Beast, only the venue is not in an enchanted castle. A lot of this tale took place in a jungle. I like how the story was woven: a sailor who was rescued by the hog and later brought him books. The seal that found its way to the hog enabled me to imagine the hog going to claim his rightful place in a royal palace.
The last tale: Drinking Tea with the Immortals in the Wintry Woods reminded me how my grandma said that in the past hundreds or thousands of years ago, immortals often pretend they were ordinary people and roamed the earth, that coincided with what was recorded in Genesis of the old testament.
Angels would come down to visit Sodom before its destruction.
I certainly enjoyed these four books more than many a best seller. More importantly, I realized different stories appealed to different people. I must explain that my second editor going through my second collection of short stories suggested I kick out six because they were weak. Around that time I actually took out all six of them. My first editor asked about my decision and suggested that I put in extra effort to rewrite them. Then as my daughter and I compared notes on what each of us like about Wong's stories, I realized that many of her favourites were actually what English teachers considered as weak plots. In went five of the six, only one was left out as it reveals more of the author. It is quite ok to blog and tell a fair bit as it is done anonymously. Once a book has an author name and a publisher it is then traceable. I thank God that these four books fell into my hands as I was deciding to include or exclude those five stories. Certain things are rather providential which happen in a particular timely manner.
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
(1025) Ah Lao and the Paper Men by Wong Ming Yook
The author taught my daughter in the university quite a few years ago. I am grateful for the fact that she gave each of her four books to my daughter recently.
In this book I would vote Wild Duck Inn as the best story. Part of the outskirt of Ipoh was exactly like Wong wrote it, at least thirteen years ago. Perhaps it is nostalgia for what I was used to in the yesteryears. I particularly like the fact that Wong pitched it from the angle of a foreign visitor.
My daughter was very taken with the fact that story number 5 and 6 seemed to be linked with a peacock feather. It was sad that a loving owner who enjoyed living in her little house had to die and everything would have to be vacated for viewing and then new ownership. But, well, no one lives forever and houses often can last a few generations.
My favourite neighbour decided to downsize from a three room house to one room in her daughter's home. I have been there in the old abode, chatting and lending a hand here and there. It is almost hard to believe that there were so much stuff in that neat and tidy house. You could hardly believe how much had to be given away. More so if the owner passes on and the only daughter has to go through the effects as in between story 5 and 6.
The first story is the same as the name of the book is a story that I would not read after sunset. From that fact I have to bow to the author for she successfully engineered suspense and sneaked in tinges of fear into my heart. Generally I am not afraid of ghost stories, used to clamour for others to tell them during camp fires and on overnight trips.
In this book I would vote Wild Duck Inn as the best story. Part of the outskirt of Ipoh was exactly like Wong wrote it, at least thirteen years ago. Perhaps it is nostalgia for what I was used to in the yesteryears. I particularly like the fact that Wong pitched it from the angle of a foreign visitor.
My daughter was very taken with the fact that story number 5 and 6 seemed to be linked with a peacock feather. It was sad that a loving owner who enjoyed living in her little house had to die and everything would have to be vacated for viewing and then new ownership. But, well, no one lives forever and houses often can last a few generations.
My favourite neighbour decided to downsize from a three room house to one room in her daughter's home. I have been there in the old abode, chatting and lending a hand here and there. It is almost hard to believe that there were so much stuff in that neat and tidy house. You could hardly believe how much had to be given away. More so if the owner passes on and the only daughter has to go through the effects as in between story 5 and 6.
The first story is the same as the name of the book is a story that I would not read after sunset. From that fact I have to bow to the author for she successfully engineered suspense and sneaked in tinges of fear into my heart. Generally I am not afraid of ghost stories, used to clamour for others to tell them during camp fires and on overnight trips.
Friday, November 9, 2018
(1024) The Library of Sighs by Wong Ming Yook
This is Wong's second book.
Story 1 The Library of Sighs
Quite often, we find teenagers who could not quite fit in with their school crowd, their peers in the area they live or even places they work part-time in. These may not be juvenile delinquents but they could be loners, a little slow, too quiet or a hundred other harmless different traits. Rita in the story is a little unsure of herself, but obedient and teachable. I have a neighbour whose daughter who seemed a bit aloof, she often takes a little time to digest what I told her. Perhaps I am a rather abrupt speaker who is impatient and too lazy to explain.
After her Senior Cambridge Exam, she went to part-time waitress in a Nonya (a line of cooking from the Straits Settlement, Penang, Melaka and Singapore) Restaurant. A few months later, she was hired as a full timer. Now she seems vibrant, confident and no different from other girls her age.
Story 3 & 4 Maria de Silva Takes a Husband
Mimi Gomes Dances the Waltz
There are three dominant races in my country: Malay, Chinese and Indian. De Silva and Gomes probably belong to the category "others". One of my youngest' classmates counts four lines of ancestry: Chinese, Indian, Portugal and Filipino.
What binds these two stories together is Mimi's husband who marry Maria bigamously. Now, that was not very unusual. I actually have a cousin who married her husband by registry knowing fully well that he has a first wife by Chinese tea ceremony. What was strange is that the second wife later became an assistant Principal in a rather well known government school. The first wife knew about her husband's second marriage and kept quiet. What can the poor lady do, she has six children and her husband is rich.
Story 1 The Library of Sighs
Quite often, we find teenagers who could not quite fit in with their school crowd, their peers in the area they live or even places they work part-time in. These may not be juvenile delinquents but they could be loners, a little slow, too quiet or a hundred other harmless different traits. Rita in the story is a little unsure of herself, but obedient and teachable. I have a neighbour whose daughter who seemed a bit aloof, she often takes a little time to digest what I told her. Perhaps I am a rather abrupt speaker who is impatient and too lazy to explain.
After her Senior Cambridge Exam, she went to part-time waitress in a Nonya (a line of cooking from the Straits Settlement, Penang, Melaka and Singapore) Restaurant. A few months later, she was hired as a full timer. Now she seems vibrant, confident and no different from other girls her age.
Story 3 & 4 Maria de Silva Takes a Husband
Mimi Gomes Dances the Waltz
There are three dominant races in my country: Malay, Chinese and Indian. De Silva and Gomes probably belong to the category "others". One of my youngest' classmates counts four lines of ancestry: Chinese, Indian, Portugal and Filipino.
What binds these two stories together is Mimi's husband who marry Maria bigamously. Now, that was not very unusual. I actually have a cousin who married her husband by registry knowing fully well that he has a first wife by Chinese tea ceremony. What was strange is that the second wife later became an assistant Principal in a rather well known government school. The first wife knew about her husband's second marriage and kept quiet. What can the poor lady do, she has six children and her husband is rich.
(1023) In the Courtyard of the Sun by Wong Ming Yook
I read the book a few months ago. At that point of time I had no internet access. Now that I am holding the yellow covered book in hand, all I could remember is story number 13, the second last story.
The Daytime Café of Love - that is the only story I like enough to place a pencil mark against the margin on the content page. Assuming anyone that looked for this review on line has read it recently, I'm going to take it that you've bought the book. I am neither homophobic nor gay. During my few years of sojourn in USA, I've met and befriended quite a few gay men. They happened to be wonderful people, very warm, friendly and caring to an Asian wraith that I was then. Many a time through their kindness, I found places to stay and temporary or part-time jobs to tide me till term time.
Now that I have been married for thirty over years and living in the suburb of a metropolitan city, the only gay man I see off and on is my mix rice seller. He is in his forties, his partner is the cook. They are part of the restaurant team in my neighbourhood for well, at least twelve years. Last week he took a look at my selection: big auntie's daughter ties the knot*, onion fried egg and kai lan stir fry barbecue pork, he commented that my youngest daughter and I could make two meals out of it. I murmured that my eldest son is back, I'd be lucky to feed the three of us for lunch; at the back of my mind I was planning a quick tomyam soup of mushrooms to go with that and rice. I was surprised that he remembered my son. The latter have been away for pre-u, university, and has been in Sabah for three years. He gave me a convincing description of my son. Well, apart from his polished salesmanship, just maybe he is rather observant, got a good memory and is interested in his customers. My regard for him grew a fair bit.
* it is a common and low cost dish made of vegetable melon (mo kua) sliced, cooked with small dried shrimp, sometimes cellophane noodle is added. I call the subject of the piece Handsome. His partner's version added minced pork and egg drop. During my mum's youth, a poor family who cooks the daughter's nuptial meal would inevitable include this rather ordinary dish.
The Daytime Café of Love - that is the only story I like enough to place a pencil mark against the margin on the content page. Assuming anyone that looked for this review on line has read it recently, I'm going to take it that you've bought the book. I am neither homophobic nor gay. During my few years of sojourn in USA, I've met and befriended quite a few gay men. They happened to be wonderful people, very warm, friendly and caring to an Asian wraith that I was then. Many a time through their kindness, I found places to stay and temporary or part-time jobs to tide me till term time.
Now that I have been married for thirty over years and living in the suburb of a metropolitan city, the only gay man I see off and on is my mix rice seller. He is in his forties, his partner is the cook. They are part of the restaurant team in my neighbourhood for well, at least twelve years. Last week he took a look at my selection: big auntie's daughter ties the knot*, onion fried egg and kai lan stir fry barbecue pork, he commented that my youngest daughter and I could make two meals out of it. I murmured that my eldest son is back, I'd be lucky to feed the three of us for lunch; at the back of my mind I was planning a quick tomyam soup of mushrooms to go with that and rice. I was surprised that he remembered my son. The latter have been away for pre-u, university, and has been in Sabah for three years. He gave me a convincing description of my son. Well, apart from his polished salesmanship, just maybe he is rather observant, got a good memory and is interested in his customers. My regard for him grew a fair bit.
* it is a common and low cost dish made of vegetable melon (mo kua) sliced, cooked with small dried shrimp, sometimes cellophane noodle is added. I call the subject of the piece Handsome. His partner's version added minced pork and egg drop. During my mum's youth, a poor family who cooks the daughter's nuptial meal would inevitable include this rather ordinary dish.
(1022) Bed bugs
We are in the age of uber, grab and a b & b. In a sense it is wonderful about sharing the planet's dwindling resources. Yet, what about bed bugs?
I well remember that to go to the fifty cents Saturday morning movie one has to bring a stack of newspaper to cover the wooden bench. That was in the mid-seventies. Else the unlucky person(s) would have a row of bumps to show and to scratch.
In the early eighties a college friend of mine spent a year earning money teaching English in Taiwan. She had much fun learning Taiwanese Chinese ways. After living frugally for a year, she had a nest egg to go backpacking in China, India, Indonesia, Thailand... By the time she came to visit me, she looked like a very poor and dirty hippie woman. After a stint in Java living on US$1 a day, her hair was full of lice, her clothes were full of bed bugs. Lucky Jennifer found an empty flat in Singapore to de lice and de bug. She shampooed her hair twice a day with medication, the next day she cropped it real short. Before that meeting, I had never seen her with short hair. Simultaneously she would boil all her clothes and bedding in turn over a stove. Don't ask me how she found a utensil big enough, she probably borrowed a converted kerosene tin like what my mum had for boiling dumplings in the fifth month of the lunar year. I truly admire that kind of guts my white friends have. Until today I have seen less of Asia than her, and you cannot assume I don't like to travel.
Of late, with a lot of traffic and lots of people staying in homestays, I kept hearing of homes being invaded by bed bugs. There was Wendy, a professional translator. All the bed rooms in her house were infected. Believe it or not, she even changed all the bed room furniture in every room. No cure! Apparently bed bugs hide in books and can survive for months without a drop of blood. They eat human skin fragments in an occupied or empty house.
There is Delia, my daughter's youth group friend, her home was invaded twice. It took pest control to rid the last bug. The interesting part is Delia and her husband had not travelled for at least four years. They have young children under the age of four. My husband said that all it took is to have a part-time cleaner lying on one of the beds for five minutes to transmit a few bugs. What do you think?
My brother's sister-in-law spent at least $10,000, changed her master bedroom ceiling, every stick of furniture in two bedrooms. Prior to the bug invasion, she went to a few Asean countries with her family. They chose low price accommodation. Normally it is alright if we aren't particular about comfort. All we need are: a clean bathroom, fresh sheets on the bed and a ceiling fan. Yet who would
have thought that a budget trip would lead to months of fighting with nocturnal creatures which would be difficult to rid of.
I well remember that to go to the fifty cents Saturday morning movie one has to bring a stack of newspaper to cover the wooden bench. That was in the mid-seventies. Else the unlucky person(s) would have a row of bumps to show and to scratch.
In the early eighties a college friend of mine spent a year earning money teaching English in Taiwan. She had much fun learning Taiwanese Chinese ways. After living frugally for a year, she had a nest egg to go backpacking in China, India, Indonesia, Thailand... By the time she came to visit me, she looked like a very poor and dirty hippie woman. After a stint in Java living on US$1 a day, her hair was full of lice, her clothes were full of bed bugs. Lucky Jennifer found an empty flat in Singapore to de lice and de bug. She shampooed her hair twice a day with medication, the next day she cropped it real short. Before that meeting, I had never seen her with short hair. Simultaneously she would boil all her clothes and bedding in turn over a stove. Don't ask me how she found a utensil big enough, she probably borrowed a converted kerosene tin like what my mum had for boiling dumplings in the fifth month of the lunar year. I truly admire that kind of guts my white friends have. Until today I have seen less of Asia than her, and you cannot assume I don't like to travel.
Of late, with a lot of traffic and lots of people staying in homestays, I kept hearing of homes being invaded by bed bugs. There was Wendy, a professional translator. All the bed rooms in her house were infected. Believe it or not, she even changed all the bed room furniture in every room. No cure! Apparently bed bugs hide in books and can survive for months without a drop of blood. They eat human skin fragments in an occupied or empty house.
There is Delia, my daughter's youth group friend, her home was invaded twice. It took pest control to rid the last bug. The interesting part is Delia and her husband had not travelled for at least four years. They have young children under the age of four. My husband said that all it took is to have a part-time cleaner lying on one of the beds for five minutes to transmit a few bugs. What do you think?
My brother's sister-in-law spent at least $10,000, changed her master bedroom ceiling, every stick of furniture in two bedrooms. Prior to the bug invasion, she went to a few Asean countries with her family. They chose low price accommodation. Normally it is alright if we aren't particular about comfort. All we need are: a clean bathroom, fresh sheets on the bed and a ceiling fan. Yet who would
have thought that a budget trip would lead to months of fighting with nocturnal creatures which would be difficult to rid of.
Thursday, November 8, 2018
(1021) Brain degeneration
My friend Swan had a neighbour called Violet. She was eighty six years old when I first met her. Swan and I called her Auntie Violet. The latter was as healthy as you and I could imagine. On her last trip to Melbourne, Australia, she would go bush walking every weekend with her grand son. Once she even climbed a small mountain.
For a senior citizen, she was having a good life. She lived in her daughter's condo. When she wanted to, she cooked. But when she felt lazy, she drove out to eat. She had 20-20 vision. No serious illness either. She even could not remember the last time she had a cold, let alone flu or cough. Once, on a dare to prove a point, she jumped rope a hundred times.
Sad to say, beautiful flowers fade and good time does not last. She began to forget things. The most difficult call from her to Swan was when she could not remember how to drive home. Swan managed to calm her down. Then she instructed Auntie Violet to drive along the fencing until a school sign board was located. Thus Swan drove to that school, which was not very far away, and led the old lady home.
Next thing we know, Auntie Violet had an accident in the underground car park. The repair bill came up to seventeen thousand dollars. There after she stopped driving. I still saw her at banks and supermarket in the neighbourhood. Gradually she could not remember my name. After that her daughter sent her to an old folk's home.
Until now I wonder how a healthy person like her could lose her memory. Alzaimer's? Dementia? Old age? Or could it be that she avoided oil and fat of all forms for many long years to maintain good health? That strong heart of hers may yet beat for ten or twenty years.
For a senior citizen, she was having a good life. She lived in her daughter's condo. When she wanted to, she cooked. But when she felt lazy, she drove out to eat. She had 20-20 vision. No serious illness either. She even could not remember the last time she had a cold, let alone flu or cough. Once, on a dare to prove a point, she jumped rope a hundred times.
Sad to say, beautiful flowers fade and good time does not last. She began to forget things. The most difficult call from her to Swan was when she could not remember how to drive home. Swan managed to calm her down. Then she instructed Auntie Violet to drive along the fencing until a school sign board was located. Thus Swan drove to that school, which was not very far away, and led the old lady home.
Next thing we know, Auntie Violet had an accident in the underground car park. The repair bill came up to seventeen thousand dollars. There after she stopped driving. I still saw her at banks and supermarket in the neighbourhood. Gradually she could not remember my name. After that her daughter sent her to an old folk's home.
Until now I wonder how a healthy person like her could lose her memory. Alzaimer's? Dementia? Old age? Or could it be that she avoided oil and fat of all forms for many long years to maintain good health? That strong heart of hers may yet beat for ten or twenty years.
(1020) Helping the aged
Recently, my friend, Diana, asked for help on behalf of her childhood friend. If you are my long term reader, you must have read about my spatial challenge. After staying in my current address for at least 13 years, I only know how to drive to the market, the library and my mother's house. Mind, I do go to multiple other places by public transportation. I could go by LRT, MRT, Monorail, KTM, buses, taxi or grab. So unless you provide a means of going, I very seldom venture out of my comfort zone.
We'll give Diana's friend a name, we will call her Zoe. Zoe's mum is 89 years old and she lives alone. A few days back, the old lady woke up with a sharp pain in her neck and shoulder region. She lives above a shopping mall in a tiny apartment. All her daily needs could be met on the ground floor. Well, when a person is at that age, one could not reasonably expect her to be totally self-sufficient all the time. Zoe lives in Toronto, Canada. Her mom lives many hours away in term of time zone in little Malaysia. Even though Zoe talks to her everyday, she could not apply ointment for her mom. Hence she asked Diana to find someone to visit her mom three times for one hour each just for one week. There are three tasks to accomplish during this hour, 1.rub ointment into the affected region 2. teach her mom how to navigate the tv onto playing dvd 3. teach her how to use a new phone. Zoe offered to compensate the helper a reasonable amount for the time, effort and transportation.
So on Tuesday evening, Diana managed to talk Penny into driving to meet this old lady who needed some help. I happened to tag along as I did not have other fish to fry. Diana is born a Cantonese but she is English educated. Penny is a Teochiew but went to 6 years of Chinese education. If I had not gone along, they would definitely have communication problem. I ended up translating the gist of what came across into English. The elderly person spoke very literal, deep and beautiful Cantonese like what one hears on tv or radio in Hong Kong. My father would probably have spoken all that in Hakka as he spent years mastering the Chinese language up to the level of writing poems for weddings, shop opening, funerals and festivals.
After listening to the old lady's struggles for about an hour, we adjourned up to her unit. The rubbing of ointment commenced. Then Penny used the hair dryer to apply heat therapy for better circulation. I observed the professional way Penny went about it. It is interesting that she works as in accounts receivable. With three years in the right institution, she would be a tip-top physiotherapist. Then Penny went onto playing around with three controllers: tv, Astro and dvd. Now that may be easy for a three year old, I certainly could not handle it. I much prefer reading than watching movies. Last of all, the new hand set came out. All three of us could not figure out how to charge it.
The next day, by appointment, we went for session two. We waited at the appointed place. After ten minutes, we called Diana. Diana called Zoe by Whatsapp. Then the aged came into sight pushing a shopping cart. She misplaced her access card cum house keys. It s a good thing she has a second set of keys handy. We searched high and low, up and down, from kitchen to toilet, sitting room a second time and bedroom 1 and 2. Not a whiff of the red lanyard or the green card.
I decided to pray. I prayed in English, Penny in Mandarin and Auntie in Cantonese.
After strategizing, we all agree that the access card must be in the bedroom. After the guests left, the occupant came back, locked up and changed for bed. I found the card and keys. They were hung on the right knob of a mobile mirror. The mirror was placed neatly, close to the wardrobe. In the tiny bedroom, one has to be standing on a line about two feet long, and she has to turn towards the window to see one side of the access card peeping out for about half an inch. Else the lanyard and 80% of the card would be hidden by an ornate wood carving which is part of the mirror.
Back to what Zoe requested, Penny wanted to rub ointment a second time. Auntie took some time explaining how she didn't think it would help. She wanted to go to a physician in a nearby town. Then a lot of telephone calls and texting occurred. In the end we all agreed to call a grab. First we took her down for a filling meal before we saw her safely into the right car. Mission accomplished
(at least for Penny and I).
Diana's son managed to charge the phone up fully. Diana's daughter would have to take time to teach the old lady how to use it. So you see, it is not easy at all to be good Samaritans.
We'll give Diana's friend a name, we will call her Zoe. Zoe's mum is 89 years old and she lives alone. A few days back, the old lady woke up with a sharp pain in her neck and shoulder region. She lives above a shopping mall in a tiny apartment. All her daily needs could be met on the ground floor. Well, when a person is at that age, one could not reasonably expect her to be totally self-sufficient all the time. Zoe lives in Toronto, Canada. Her mom lives many hours away in term of time zone in little Malaysia. Even though Zoe talks to her everyday, she could not apply ointment for her mom. Hence she asked Diana to find someone to visit her mom three times for one hour each just for one week. There are three tasks to accomplish during this hour, 1.rub ointment into the affected region 2. teach her mom how to navigate the tv onto playing dvd 3. teach her how to use a new phone. Zoe offered to compensate the helper a reasonable amount for the time, effort and transportation.
So on Tuesday evening, Diana managed to talk Penny into driving to meet this old lady who needed some help. I happened to tag along as I did not have other fish to fry. Diana is born a Cantonese but she is English educated. Penny is a Teochiew but went to 6 years of Chinese education. If I had not gone along, they would definitely have communication problem. I ended up translating the gist of what came across into English. The elderly person spoke very literal, deep and beautiful Cantonese like what one hears on tv or radio in Hong Kong. My father would probably have spoken all that in Hakka as he spent years mastering the Chinese language up to the level of writing poems for weddings, shop opening, funerals and festivals.
After listening to the old lady's struggles for about an hour, we adjourned up to her unit. The rubbing of ointment commenced. Then Penny used the hair dryer to apply heat therapy for better circulation. I observed the professional way Penny went about it. It is interesting that she works as in accounts receivable. With three years in the right institution, she would be a tip-top physiotherapist. Then Penny went onto playing around with three controllers: tv, Astro and dvd. Now that may be easy for a three year old, I certainly could not handle it. I much prefer reading than watching movies. Last of all, the new hand set came out. All three of us could not figure out how to charge it.
The next day, by appointment, we went for session two. We waited at the appointed place. After ten minutes, we called Diana. Diana called Zoe by Whatsapp. Then the aged came into sight pushing a shopping cart. She misplaced her access card cum house keys. It s a good thing she has a second set of keys handy. We searched high and low, up and down, from kitchen to toilet, sitting room a second time and bedroom 1 and 2. Not a whiff of the red lanyard or the green card.
I decided to pray. I prayed in English, Penny in Mandarin and Auntie in Cantonese.
After strategizing, we all agree that the access card must be in the bedroom. After the guests left, the occupant came back, locked up and changed for bed. I found the card and keys. They were hung on the right knob of a mobile mirror. The mirror was placed neatly, close to the wardrobe. In the tiny bedroom, one has to be standing on a line about two feet long, and she has to turn towards the window to see one side of the access card peeping out for about half an inch. Else the lanyard and 80% of the card would be hidden by an ornate wood carving which is part of the mirror.
Back to what Zoe requested, Penny wanted to rub ointment a second time. Auntie took some time explaining how she didn't think it would help. She wanted to go to a physician in a nearby town. Then a lot of telephone calls and texting occurred. In the end we all agreed to call a grab. First we took her down for a filling meal before we saw her safely into the right car. Mission accomplished
(at least for Penny and I).
Diana's son managed to charge the phone up fully. Diana's daughter would have to take time to teach the old lady how to use it. So you see, it is not easy at all to be good Samaritans.
(1019) Book shelves
You may look at my current title and wonder if I have gone off my rocker. Well, read on and you may think this is my best story yet.
If you have been following my blog, you would know that I believe in a God who answer prayers. Mind you, not all prayers but only those that are consistent with His will for my good.
An old friend of mine asked me out of the blue: please pray for book shelves for her 700 books. So I diligently remembered and prayed. Now, I am a lazy person. I prayed once and forgot all about it. Well, it did not seem urgent nor was it a matter of life and death. But one day, (maybe a week after I prayed about two book shelves big enough to contain 700 books) I saw suitable pieces in the local furniture shop. Accordingly I called her to tell her so quoting the price. It seemed that money had not come.
Therefore I prayed about the request, being specific about needing $500. My prayer ran like this: O God, I thanked you for remembering dear Monique's childhood dream of having a library. More than granting her the physical number of books, You have seen it fit to bestow upon her a superb collection of spiritual books about yourself and men's walk with you. My estimate of the original cost of the books run into the high end of a 4-digit figure. Surely, you would like to see those lovely books nicely arranged in proper shelves rather than reposed as stacks in the bedroom.
Guess what? The next Sunday during worship I sensed God telling me to give Monique $500. I came home and dug out my "people-in-need" fund and counted $200. Not enough money. I have not had a full time job for twenty five years. The contract teaching post I had in Sabah was a temporary part-time position. I had no tuition students for the past twelve years. Where was I going to come up with the difference? But, sure Lord, if you say so, as soon as that envelope contain $500 I will give it to Monique.
Within a few days, the amount magically reached $500. It reached its rightful owner via May bank to u. How the money came belongs to another story.
Three months after the sum went to Monique, I happily assumed that book shelves had been purchased and books were nicely arranged in alphabetical order. Life is often a lot more complicated than we think. Those 700 books have been moved from bedroom to the lounge. No book shelves in sight. I did not go to visit after I sent the amount. Monique's sister told me the lack of progress. Meanwhile, her(the sister) ex-boss was relocating and offered to give her two gigantic cabinets. As a third sister has only need for one cabinet, Monique asked for and was given the other. Note, now four women are involved. 1. Monique 2. Penny, whose ex-boss gives away cabinets 3. the ex-boss is Mandy 4. Vera, the third sister.
We note that Mandy is a kind person who rewards her former employee. Penny is caring enough to tell Vera and Monique about the cabinets from her former office which are in good condition. Vera is generous enough to pay for the transportation. So far so good, right?
For the good deed of telling her two sisters about the cabinets, Penny has to return to her former office on a Saturday afternoon to supervise loading the items onto a lorry. Vera was happy with her item. But Monique was upset because her cabinet was scratched. In the first place, the cabinets are both rather heavy. Actually it would have been better if there were three workers. But the lorry came with a driver and one attendant.
The moral of the story here is: what happened to the $500? Shouldn't Monique be shouldering half the transportation cost whereby enabling a third worker be hired? Mandy was happy that her office furniture found good homes. Penny was happy that Vera obtained a free cabinet to reduce her children's clutter. Vera, a single mother, had gotten a good bargain through the good offices of Penny.
The odd woman out now is Monique. Why was she not grateful that God cared for her enough to provide money, hard cash, to house her books? When the cabinet was sourced, she did not offer to go along to guide the loading. She actually took advantage of Vera's good will. At the end of the day, she blamed Penny for not making sure her share of the goods are perfect.
Monique has a gift in making friends with those who are generous. One of her benefactress is a Swedish woman who married a Malaysian man. The latter passed on after a heart attack. The Swedish wife was winding up her affairs to join her children in Sweden. She gave his entire collection of books to Monique.
In this story, which is real except a few changes to protect the privacy of the four people involved, I learn that the same person who may be a loyal friend to me could be very different indeed to her own flesh and blood sisters.
If you have been following my blog, you would know that I believe in a God who answer prayers. Mind you, not all prayers but only those that are consistent with His will for my good.
An old friend of mine asked me out of the blue: please pray for book shelves for her 700 books. So I diligently remembered and prayed. Now, I am a lazy person. I prayed once and forgot all about it. Well, it did not seem urgent nor was it a matter of life and death. But one day, (maybe a week after I prayed about two book shelves big enough to contain 700 books) I saw suitable pieces in the local furniture shop. Accordingly I called her to tell her so quoting the price. It seemed that money had not come.
Therefore I prayed about the request, being specific about needing $500. My prayer ran like this: O God, I thanked you for remembering dear Monique's childhood dream of having a library. More than granting her the physical number of books, You have seen it fit to bestow upon her a superb collection of spiritual books about yourself and men's walk with you. My estimate of the original cost of the books run into the high end of a 4-digit figure. Surely, you would like to see those lovely books nicely arranged in proper shelves rather than reposed as stacks in the bedroom.
Guess what? The next Sunday during worship I sensed God telling me to give Monique $500. I came home and dug out my "people-in-need" fund and counted $200. Not enough money. I have not had a full time job for twenty five years. The contract teaching post I had in Sabah was a temporary part-time position. I had no tuition students for the past twelve years. Where was I going to come up with the difference? But, sure Lord, if you say so, as soon as that envelope contain $500 I will give it to Monique.
Within a few days, the amount magically reached $500. It reached its rightful owner via May bank to u. How the money came belongs to another story.
Three months after the sum went to Monique, I happily assumed that book shelves had been purchased and books were nicely arranged in alphabetical order. Life is often a lot more complicated than we think. Those 700 books have been moved from bedroom to the lounge. No book shelves in sight. I did not go to visit after I sent the amount. Monique's sister told me the lack of progress. Meanwhile, her(the sister) ex-boss was relocating and offered to give her two gigantic cabinets. As a third sister has only need for one cabinet, Monique asked for and was given the other. Note, now four women are involved. 1. Monique 2. Penny, whose ex-boss gives away cabinets 3. the ex-boss is Mandy 4. Vera, the third sister.
We note that Mandy is a kind person who rewards her former employee. Penny is caring enough to tell Vera and Monique about the cabinets from her former office which are in good condition. Vera is generous enough to pay for the transportation. So far so good, right?
For the good deed of telling her two sisters about the cabinets, Penny has to return to her former office on a Saturday afternoon to supervise loading the items onto a lorry. Vera was happy with her item. But Monique was upset because her cabinet was scratched. In the first place, the cabinets are both rather heavy. Actually it would have been better if there were three workers. But the lorry came with a driver and one attendant.
The moral of the story here is: what happened to the $500? Shouldn't Monique be shouldering half the transportation cost whereby enabling a third worker be hired? Mandy was happy that her office furniture found good homes. Penny was happy that Vera obtained a free cabinet to reduce her children's clutter. Vera, a single mother, had gotten a good bargain through the good offices of Penny.
The odd woman out now is Monique. Why was she not grateful that God cared for her enough to provide money, hard cash, to house her books? When the cabinet was sourced, she did not offer to go along to guide the loading. She actually took advantage of Vera's good will. At the end of the day, she blamed Penny for not making sure her share of the goods are perfect.
Monique has a gift in making friends with those who are generous. One of her benefactress is a Swedish woman who married a Malaysian man. The latter passed on after a heart attack. The Swedish wife was winding up her affairs to join her children in Sweden. She gave his entire collection of books to Monique.
In this story, which is real except a few changes to protect the privacy of the four people involved, I learn that the same person who may be a loyal friend to me could be very different indeed to her own flesh and blood sisters.
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