There are two men who started working, acquired credit cards and promptly became a bankrupt with unpaid $30,000 debts.
One is the son of my husband's church friend. Until today, many years after bankruptcy, he is still paying that $200 a month to AKPK(a body that helped the bankrupted save up money to clear debts). He happened to marry a lady that did not mind that he is a bankrupt. She owned the family house and any capital items.
The other is the elder son of my neighbour in the Klang valley. He owns the loudest car in the neighbourhood. Other than that, he is rather unassuming and quiet. He is single and faithfully pays AKPK monthly.
Friday, November 8, 2019
(1191) Unattended shopping cart
I was sitting in front of Kentucky Fried Chicken on a bench. Three be veiled ladies decided to buy KFC and walked in, leaving their half loaded shopping cart behind.
Personally I have not seen something like that happening in the Kuala Lumpur and Petaling Jaya supermarkets. I suppose this is a small town. Out of curiosity, I watched to see if anyone would walk off with the cart. After all, it was left right next to the exit in a rather public place.
One woman looked at the cart, looked at the few tables next to it, glanced at me... She did not leave until five minutes later. I guess if I was not sitting there eying her, she could have walked off with it easily. Once she is out of the building, she could move the content into her car boot. No one could stop her then. How would you prove ownership then, anyway?!
Personally I have not seen something like that happening in the Kuala Lumpur and Petaling Jaya supermarkets. I suppose this is a small town. Out of curiosity, I watched to see if anyone would walk off with the cart. After all, it was left right next to the exit in a rather public place.
One woman looked at the cart, looked at the few tables next to it, glanced at me... She did not leave until five minutes later. I guess if I was not sitting there eying her, she could have walked off with it easily. Once she is out of the building, she could move the content into her car boot. No one could stop her then. How would you prove ownership then, anyway?!
(1190) Vegetarian pow
There is a vegetarian movement among the Chinese speaking folks in different communities. From friends I heard that there were two shops in Melaka that offered free vegetarian meals at lunch. Each patron has to serve himself or herself, at the end of the meal wash his plate and cutlery. For those who do not need charity, there is a donation box for whoever who wants to pay.
My mother was very taken with the vegetarian pows from Melaka. The fillings were made from vegetable source, wheat flour was kneaded with water into dough. The dough was wrapped around the fillings, then the finished product was steamed.
Another shop in Kampar, Perak was famous with vegetable pows too. A missionary would buy 20 frozen ones to take back to Kelantan. One has to book by phone a day ahead to reserve such delicacies.
Just the other day I bought and consumed a curry vegetarian pow, it costs $1.60. It tasted fair.
My mother was very taken with the vegetarian pows from Melaka. The fillings were made from vegetable source, wheat flour was kneaded with water into dough. The dough was wrapped around the fillings, then the finished product was steamed.
Another shop in Kampar, Perak was famous with vegetable pows too. A missionary would buy 20 frozen ones to take back to Kelantan. One has to book by phone a day ahead to reserve such delicacies.
Just the other day I bought and consumed a curry vegetarian pow, it costs $1.60. It tasted fair.
(1189) Mirroring relatioships
There is a rule I learn in family relation: the relationship between grandma and mum is often reflected in the relationship between mum and daughter.
Fiona rebelled at age 18, she defied her mum to marry her husband. As a result she was the only one among her siblings who did not go to college. Of course at this point I must be fair and state that the mum was dictatorial and difficult to live with. Fiona has three children, the first one is a girl called Emma.
Emma was a late bloomer but by age 35 she owns a music school. She is not close to her mum and somehow the two just never see eye to eye about anything. Now that Emma expects a first child in December, I wonder whether it is going to be a boy or a girl. Unless Emma shapes up and builds better ties with her mum, history would repeat itself, she would cry over the hurtful actions of her beloved daughter, just like her mum cried over hers.
While I was living in Silver City, my back door neighbour Sheila has a parallel experience with Fiona. Sheila too married her husband over heavy objections of her mum. Even in later years, each has no civil words to say to the other. She too has a elder girl who lives to bring her heart aches. Sheila's husband was wise, he sent her out of town to live with some relatives as soon as the girl reached 17 years old. After pre-university, the girl went to study in another country.
Now I see almost daily my land lady's interactions with her only daughter. Here too, the mum finds faults with the daughter. The daughter chooses to see the mother in not flattering lights. It went back to the grandmother loving only the sons. Sad to say the sons were spoiled and both came home to depend on the old mom while the sons were in their 50s. Mom planted and sold vegetables at age 80 to support the sons. My land lady supplies rice, her one sister pays for electricity and water bills, the other sister would give the mother $30 every month. Thanks to the state welfare system, the old lady gets $150 for her household monthly.
Fiona rebelled at age 18, she defied her mum to marry her husband. As a result she was the only one among her siblings who did not go to college. Of course at this point I must be fair and state that the mum was dictatorial and difficult to live with. Fiona has three children, the first one is a girl called Emma.
Emma was a late bloomer but by age 35 she owns a music school. She is not close to her mum and somehow the two just never see eye to eye about anything. Now that Emma expects a first child in December, I wonder whether it is going to be a boy or a girl. Unless Emma shapes up and builds better ties with her mum, history would repeat itself, she would cry over the hurtful actions of her beloved daughter, just like her mum cried over hers.
While I was living in Silver City, my back door neighbour Sheila has a parallel experience with Fiona. Sheila too married her husband over heavy objections of her mum. Even in later years, each has no civil words to say to the other. She too has a elder girl who lives to bring her heart aches. Sheila's husband was wise, he sent her out of town to live with some relatives as soon as the girl reached 17 years old. After pre-university, the girl went to study in another country.
Now I see almost daily my land lady's interactions with her only daughter. Here too, the mum finds faults with the daughter. The daughter chooses to see the mother in not flattering lights. It went back to the grandmother loving only the sons. Sad to say the sons were spoiled and both came home to depend on the old mom while the sons were in their 50s. Mom planted and sold vegetables at age 80 to support the sons. My land lady supplies rice, her one sister pays for electricity and water bills, the other sister would give the mother $30 every month. Thanks to the state welfare system, the old lady gets $150 for her household monthly.
(1188) White mice
When I was in college I spent many all night studying sessions in the science building. The computer labs were on the first floor. There were psychology labs in the basement. A few times graduate students would take me down to see their lab white mice. On the surface, each mouse looked alike. But when you really observe carefully, each is unique.
One could have a long tail, significantly longer than all the others. Another has a bigger head. The third has a pointed nose. A fourth one has longer fur, enough that we all could see it. Of course each one was tattooed behind its ear a special number. Since they only run in mace, no medication was given to any of them; I asked what happened to them when the series of experiments end. Do they get sold? Are they allowed to breed? A high school mate of mine went to Vietnam and ate rat meat sold on the roadside.
My pals were appalled! The very idea! Eating my mice. How dare you? I was surprised that they become attached to their experiment animals. Unless further experiments were planned as continuation, they were put to sleep using chloroform. That was the last time anyone brought me to see their darling mice.
One could have a long tail, significantly longer than all the others. Another has a bigger head. The third has a pointed nose. A fourth one has longer fur, enough that we all could see it. Of course each one was tattooed behind its ear a special number. Since they only run in mace, no medication was given to any of them; I asked what happened to them when the series of experiments end. Do they get sold? Are they allowed to breed? A high school mate of mine went to Vietnam and ate rat meat sold on the roadside.
My pals were appalled! The very idea! Eating my mice. How dare you? I was surprised that they become attached to their experiment animals. Unless further experiments were planned as continuation, they were put to sleep using chloroform. That was the last time anyone brought me to see their darling mice.
(1187) Forbidden actions
Quite a few years ago, I was sitting next to Lake Zurich in Switzerland with my youngest child and a few friends. We were admiring the peaceful and beautiful scenery that country is famous for. As a few wild ducks flew in the park and swam near us, I said these were good specimens for making into Peking ducks, in Cantonese while licking my lips.
My hostess shushed me. She told us not to think about it. Even saying about it would get me in prison and deported. Apparently the Swiss are very fond of their wild birds. Every autumn they would capture each swan and duck and transport them like VIP to some warm haven down south in another country. Then in spring on the right day, the birds would be transported back to the lake.
I suppose saying something with malicious intent to wild birds is akin like not standing up during the national anthem was played in Thailand. Visitors beware!
My hostess shushed me. She told us not to think about it. Even saying about it would get me in prison and deported. Apparently the Swiss are very fond of their wild birds. Every autumn they would capture each swan and duck and transport them like VIP to some warm haven down south in another country. Then in spring on the right day, the birds would be transported back to the lake.
I suppose saying something with malicious intent to wild birds is akin like not standing up during the national anthem was played in Thailand. Visitors beware!
(1186) Holy Ghost
The year was 1984. It was a few weeks before I accepted Jesus as my saviour and lord. I was boarding in my boss Davis' house that summer. Mrs Davis dropped me at the Duke's for fellowship night on Friday.
Charlie Duke was an astronaut on Apollo 16. He was leading a life group in New Braunfels, Texas. I remember I was the only member under the age of 45. That year I just graduated from college.
As I was a omnivorous reader, I went through just about every book in Davis' bookshelves. The last one was rather strange: it talks about the holy ghost in olden English. I didn't really understand much about it and I stopped at page 3 the night before the meeting. At the meeting, an old man asked the leader's permission and he gave a prophesy," Someone in this group is reading a book that is about the holy ghost, it is wrong in doctrine and should be burnt!"
I was struck and confessed immediately, producing the slim volume from my back pack. I said sorry to God and handed the book to my leader, telling him that it belonged to Mr Davis. Later in the meeting, another old man shared that he prayed that his brother (who was an alcoholic) would go to church with him. He specifically asked that the holy ghost could continue to work in the unbelieving heart until he could not be at rest or at ease, that he will be compelled to enter a church and return to God.
Within the summer, such prayers were answered. Looking back, I saw the power of the holy spirit working in that little group. My pastor just gave a really clear sermon on the holy spirit last Sunday, hence it prompted memories to return.
Charlie Duke was an astronaut on Apollo 16. He was leading a life group in New Braunfels, Texas. I remember I was the only member under the age of 45. That year I just graduated from college.
As I was a omnivorous reader, I went through just about every book in Davis' bookshelves. The last one was rather strange: it talks about the holy ghost in olden English. I didn't really understand much about it and I stopped at page 3 the night before the meeting. At the meeting, an old man asked the leader's permission and he gave a prophesy," Someone in this group is reading a book that is about the holy ghost, it is wrong in doctrine and should be burnt!"
I was struck and confessed immediately, producing the slim volume from my back pack. I said sorry to God and handed the book to my leader, telling him that it belonged to Mr Davis. Later in the meeting, another old man shared that he prayed that his brother (who was an alcoholic) would go to church with him. He specifically asked that the holy ghost could continue to work in the unbelieving heart until he could not be at rest or at ease, that he will be compelled to enter a church and return to God.
Within the summer, such prayers were answered. Looking back, I saw the power of the holy spirit working in that little group. My pastor just gave a really clear sermon on the holy spirit last Sunday, hence it prompted memories to return.
Wednesday, October 23, 2019
(1185) Food glorious food
There is a saying: " A fisherman's children eat small fish, a cobbler's children wear broken shoes."
During my last stint in Borneo, one of the children taught by my son often came to 7pm tuition session with an empty stomach. After a while, I actually cooked a little extra just in case she needed food. She has grown older and attends a private all day school now. Just last month I met her in a leading supermarket. She is quite a beautiful young lady now, though still rather slender. Her mum used to operate two restaurants.
My good friend in Singapore used to pack extra sandwiches for a poor girl whose parents had to work at multiple jobs to be able to pay for her expensive education. They love her and made big sacrifices financially for her. But very often they had no time or energy to look into the daily small tasks like preparing school snacks. My friend understood and stood in the gap by providing food. She used to teach in a tuition centre specialising in coaching dyslexic children.
In the Klang valley, another friend's nephew has a friend who comes from a rich family. Mum and dad are busy business folks. The maid at home only cooks breakfasts and dinners. The "poor" teenage boy has no pocket money. He would have gone hungry each weekday with no lunches but for my friend's sister supplying identical lunches she served her son without charging the school mate. The kind boy who shared food gained literally a friend for life.
Food is one of the most basic human needs. Look around us, is there anyone whom we meet daily who lack basic food?
During my last stint in Borneo, one of the children taught by my son often came to 7pm tuition session with an empty stomach. After a while, I actually cooked a little extra just in case she needed food. She has grown older and attends a private all day school now. Just last month I met her in a leading supermarket. She is quite a beautiful young lady now, though still rather slender. Her mum used to operate two restaurants.
My good friend in Singapore used to pack extra sandwiches for a poor girl whose parents had to work at multiple jobs to be able to pay for her expensive education. They love her and made big sacrifices financially for her. But very often they had no time or energy to look into the daily small tasks like preparing school snacks. My friend understood and stood in the gap by providing food. She used to teach in a tuition centre specialising in coaching dyslexic children.
In the Klang valley, another friend's nephew has a friend who comes from a rich family. Mum and dad are busy business folks. The maid at home only cooks breakfasts and dinners. The "poor" teenage boy has no pocket money. He would have gone hungry each weekday with no lunches but for my friend's sister supplying identical lunches she served her son without charging the school mate. The kind boy who shared food gained literally a friend for life.
Food is one of the most basic human needs. Look around us, is there anyone whom we meet daily who lack basic food?
(1184) Men vs women
My grandma had a proverb: men at 30 years old are like fresh flowers, women at 30 years old are like used tea bags.
If my grandma survived till today, she would had been 110 years old. Times have changed, I no longer agree with the proverb. It is not really valid anymore.
But, to a certain extent, a man's chances at marrying are actually higher as he grows older. Inversely, a woman's chances of finding a suitable spouse seems to drop with advancing age. Personally, I hardly like to admit this fact. It seemed very unfair for women who spend 4-8 years studying in higher institutions of learning.
Among my friends, it does seem that those who found their partners earlier have gotten better deals. There are two who married late, one at 38 and the other at 40. The former is a business woman. The latter is a lawyer. The business woman's husband works stints in other countries overseeing huge infra structure projects. She chose not to relocate, partly because she could not give up her business. Partly because she would like her children not to have been educated in a few countries. As a result of her choice, the family unit is not close knitted. There is little time for happy family time and togetherness.
The lawyer's husband did not like our country's work ethics. He chose early retirement. My friend virtually moved to her mum's house after her only child was born. Interestingly they are still together living just a few miles apart.
Both men are highly qualified with multiple degrees. They are successful men if you measure them financially. Both spent many years of their youth working abroad. They are each more than 8 years older than their wives.
If my grandma survived till today, she would had been 110 years old. Times have changed, I no longer agree with the proverb. It is not really valid anymore.
But, to a certain extent, a man's chances at marrying are actually higher as he grows older. Inversely, a woman's chances of finding a suitable spouse seems to drop with advancing age. Personally, I hardly like to admit this fact. It seemed very unfair for women who spend 4-8 years studying in higher institutions of learning.
Among my friends, it does seem that those who found their partners earlier have gotten better deals. There are two who married late, one at 38 and the other at 40. The former is a business woman. The latter is a lawyer. The business woman's husband works stints in other countries overseeing huge infra structure projects. She chose not to relocate, partly because she could not give up her business. Partly because she would like her children not to have been educated in a few countries. As a result of her choice, the family unit is not close knitted. There is little time for happy family time and togetherness.
The lawyer's husband did not like our country's work ethics. He chose early retirement. My friend virtually moved to her mum's house after her only child was born. Interestingly they are still together living just a few miles apart.
Both men are highly qualified with multiple degrees. They are successful men if you measure them financially. Both spent many years of their youth working abroad. They are each more than 8 years older than their wives.
(1183) Mother's heart, mother's tree by Fang Sook Ching
This is a Chinese children's book I borrowed from the nearest Sabah Library. It was beautifully illustrated by another lady with the given name of Kwee Fang.
Among the little group of students my son taught on two weeknights, there is a guy whose mother left his dad. It is perfectly natural that that he was hurt and felt abandoned.
In the above book, a little girl's mom made her a cloth heart to represent the mom's unchanging love and care. The pink heart was hung on a tree branch outside the classroom window.
Soon there were eight other hearts made by other mothers of the children in the class. A boy, whose mother has passed away, started to "borrow" different hearts to take home each day by force. That action continually caused lots of tears and unhappiness. The class teacher did not know how to handle the difficult situation. It was wonderful that her grandmother found a solution to the problem. A phone call from the teacher led to the father of the boy in question making a paper heart for hanging on the tree branch.
In the end, even the teacher's grandma made a heart for the teacher to hang on the tree branch. After all, the teacher has no living mum or dad. Her grandma brought her up.
Using this book, I talked about how we are living in an imperfect world. Of course, the boy in the story lacked a mother compared to his classmates. But look at the teacher, she probably did not even have any memory of her parents, her grandma is all she has.
Yet, while I was resident in Silver City, there was a gun shot incident where a mother was shot in a petrol station. Her 5 year-old daughter who witnessed the killing was so traumatised by the experience that she could not utter a word for 5 long years.
That fateful day, I actually drove past the incident site shortly after the shooting and saw quite a few emergency vehicles. The bullet-ridden Land Cruiser was photographed and came up in the next day's newspaper. A paediatrician who worked in the General Hospital told me that the girl concerned had been meeting with a Government child Psychologist monthly for those years.
Among the little group of students my son taught on two weeknights, there is a guy whose mother left his dad. It is perfectly natural that that he was hurt and felt abandoned.
In the above book, a little girl's mom made her a cloth heart to represent the mom's unchanging love and care. The pink heart was hung on a tree branch outside the classroom window.
Soon there were eight other hearts made by other mothers of the children in the class. A boy, whose mother has passed away, started to "borrow" different hearts to take home each day by force. That action continually caused lots of tears and unhappiness. The class teacher did not know how to handle the difficult situation. It was wonderful that her grandmother found a solution to the problem. A phone call from the teacher led to the father of the boy in question making a paper heart for hanging on the tree branch.
In the end, even the teacher's grandma made a heart for the teacher to hang on the tree branch. After all, the teacher has no living mum or dad. Her grandma brought her up.
Using this book, I talked about how we are living in an imperfect world. Of course, the boy in the story lacked a mother compared to his classmates. But look at the teacher, she probably did not even have any memory of her parents, her grandma is all she has.
Yet, while I was resident in Silver City, there was a gun shot incident where a mother was shot in a petrol station. Her 5 year-old daughter who witnessed the killing was so traumatised by the experience that she could not utter a word for 5 long years.
That fateful day, I actually drove past the incident site shortly after the shooting and saw quite a few emergency vehicles. The bullet-ridden Land Cruiser was photographed and came up in the next day's newspaper. A paediatrician who worked in the General Hospital told me that the girl concerned had been meeting with a Government child Psychologist monthly for those years.
(1182) Good wife
I was reading a book on regional and traditional cakes of the UK. A conversation from years ago surfaced in my consciousness.
There was a famous book I read when I was 21 years old. It was loaned to me by a good friend in my college. At that point of time I could not understand much of the book content.
Years later a close friend showed me the movie version in her home theatre. Amazingly, the pictorial rendition was crystal clear to me and I enjoyed the show tremendously. Of course, by then I was married and was in my thirties.
The latter friend pointed out one scene: an American born Chinese wife baked a delectable pecan pie, cut one slice for her beloved husband. The rest of the yummy pie ended up in the garbage can. This couple in the movie was childless by choice.
I told her that in all my college life of interacting with American whites and Asian residents, I have never met anyone who would throw away fresh food or bake goods. It was merely the author's ploy of painting an exaggerated version of the event to provoke an emotional response from the readers.
Further along the story, this "spoiled" husband actually left his wife who had bent double back to please him habitually . My friend's sister who is an Australian citizen was adamant that the lady character richly deserved the abandonment by a "good-for-nothing" husband.
Well! I thought that was rather an extreme view. In my opinion, that lady did not "read" her husband accurately enough, some men could not abide by being treated as VIP all the time. Therefore it was useless to be so good to him. My friend had a third view and we agreed to disagree over that case amicably. What do you think?
There was a famous book I read when I was 21 years old. It was loaned to me by a good friend in my college. At that point of time I could not understand much of the book content.
Years later a close friend showed me the movie version in her home theatre. Amazingly, the pictorial rendition was crystal clear to me and I enjoyed the show tremendously. Of course, by then I was married and was in my thirties.
The latter friend pointed out one scene: an American born Chinese wife baked a delectable pecan pie, cut one slice for her beloved husband. The rest of the yummy pie ended up in the garbage can. This couple in the movie was childless by choice.
I told her that in all my college life of interacting with American whites and Asian residents, I have never met anyone who would throw away fresh food or bake goods. It was merely the author's ploy of painting an exaggerated version of the event to provoke an emotional response from the readers.
Further along the story, this "spoiled" husband actually left his wife who had bent double back to please him habitually . My friend's sister who is an Australian citizen was adamant that the lady character richly deserved the abandonment by a "good-for-nothing" husband.
Well! I thought that was rather an extreme view. In my opinion, that lady did not "read" her husband accurately enough, some men could not abide by being treated as VIP all the time. Therefore it was useless to be so good to him. My friend had a third view and we agreed to disagree over that case amicably. What do you think?
(1181) Flash floods
Due to climate change, one of the main roads near my home in Selangor could become flooded within a short time of heavy rain. Off hand I remember four times of the area becoming flooded the past two years.
Kenneth was walking to the nearest LRT station one day when he went back to the peninsular. It was raining cats and dogs. Even with a golf umbrella, his long pants were getting soaked by the horizontal blast of raindrops due to strong wind.
While he was tip-toeing on the pavement in between rain puddles, a small grey mouse (that was a baby size) was scrabbling away from the main road in the opposite direction. It was literally running for its life. Ten minutes later, the flood water was up to the lowest part of the windows of a Kancil car (970cc). It was then 3:30pm.
It is a good thing that such flash flood does not usually last more than half an hour. But meanwhile, the cars parked within the flood zone would be swept along by the strong current of the flood water.
Animals are usually smart enough to flee from natural disasters like flood, forest fire, earthquakes and volcano eruptions. By instinct, they would run either long before an imminent earthquake (a few days ahead) or just in the nick of time before a flood.
Kenneth was walking to the nearest LRT station one day when he went back to the peninsular. It was raining cats and dogs. Even with a golf umbrella, his long pants were getting soaked by the horizontal blast of raindrops due to strong wind.
While he was tip-toeing on the pavement in between rain puddles, a small grey mouse (that was a baby size) was scrabbling away from the main road in the opposite direction. It was literally running for its life. Ten minutes later, the flood water was up to the lowest part of the windows of a Kancil car (970cc). It was then 3:30pm.
It is a good thing that such flash flood does not usually last more than half an hour. But meanwhile, the cars parked within the flood zone would be swept along by the strong current of the flood water.
Animals are usually smart enough to flee from natural disasters like flood, forest fire, earthquakes and volcano eruptions. By instinct, they would run either long before an imminent earthquake (a few days ahead) or just in the nick of time before a flood.
Sunday, October 13, 2019
(1180) Bridal Photography
One sure sign of hitting middle age was when things the youngsters do strike one as being overly luxurious or in a spendthrift manner.
After getting married, having the desired number of children and moving lock, stock and barrel to a small town, I proceeded to hide my head in the sand to devote all my energy to bring up my "treasures". It was much later that we relocated back to the capital city to be with my eldest when he attended Pre-university that I began to meet folks who are much younger than my age group.
When a young single girl in my life group shared that her wedding photography was going to cost $13,000, I was speechless. When she explained that she and her husband, with a photographer and a make-up artist cum hairdresser would spend three day-two nights in Langkawi Island, those present began to see why it costs so much. That was within the first decade of the 21st century.
To think that my first job in 1984 netted me $840 monthly as an IT lecturer in a shop lot college during the recession of the mid-80s. A year or two later I found a permanent job teaching communication in a proper private college, it paid $1,240. Much later I resigned from my full time job to go part-time teaching English. The month I received the highest pay was when I was teaching 21 hours weekly. It was holiday crash courses for third year students who needed to pass their language requirements. I remembered wanting to photocopy the $2,645 cheque, my husband laughed as that was a pittance to him, he is not a teacher.
Sometime in 2014, my nephew tied the knot. He paid $18,000 for his bridal photography. Of course those photos were like works of art. His pictures were taken in a national park.
After getting married, having the desired number of children and moving lock, stock and barrel to a small town, I proceeded to hide my head in the sand to devote all my energy to bring up my "treasures". It was much later that we relocated back to the capital city to be with my eldest when he attended Pre-university that I began to meet folks who are much younger than my age group.
When a young single girl in my life group shared that her wedding photography was going to cost $13,000, I was speechless. When she explained that she and her husband, with a photographer and a make-up artist cum hairdresser would spend three day-two nights in Langkawi Island, those present began to see why it costs so much. That was within the first decade of the 21st century.
To think that my first job in 1984 netted me $840 monthly as an IT lecturer in a shop lot college during the recession of the mid-80s. A year or two later I found a permanent job teaching communication in a proper private college, it paid $1,240. Much later I resigned from my full time job to go part-time teaching English. The month I received the highest pay was when I was teaching 21 hours weekly. It was holiday crash courses for third year students who needed to pass their language requirements. I remembered wanting to photocopy the $2,645 cheque, my husband laughed as that was a pittance to him, he is not a teacher.
Sometime in 2014, my nephew tied the knot. He paid $18,000 for his bridal photography. Of course those photos were like works of art. His pictures were taken in a national park.
(1179) Manipulating adults from toddlerhood.
From my personal observation, a person with a co-dominant hemispheres brain is usually highly talented. A scientist who also aces in English literature would be such a person. We'll call him Long.
It was his father's 70th birthday dinner. He flew back from Hong Kong to attend the family function. When it came to the time to drive to the restaurant, it was to be a convoy of five cars. As he walked to the main door, his recalcitrant niece was lying across the empty space right before the door, kicking and screaming. There was no tears in her calculating and watchful eyes.
He lifted his right foot, gently turned the one-year-old over. From lying face down, she was re-oriented to lying face up within less than a second. She was shocked into silence for a moment. Then the pouting mouth turned into an "o" shape and the scream continued. The care-giver, who is a cousin, picked up the toddler and shushed her with a litany of reprimand.
Everyone overlooked the incident. Well, what do you expect of a forty-year-old bachelor? Also, most adults could not tolerate the show-off, controlling attitude of a bullying toddler. It was a calculating act to dominate a family gathering. Don't tell me that all babies are innocent. There is often one in ten who is almost born domineering and good at manipulating most adults.
*..........
It was his father's 70th birthday dinner. He flew back from Hong Kong to attend the family function. When it came to the time to drive to the restaurant, it was to be a convoy of five cars. As he walked to the main door, his recalcitrant niece was lying across the empty space right before the door, kicking and screaming. There was no tears in her calculating and watchful eyes.
He lifted his right foot, gently turned the one-year-old over. From lying face down, she was re-oriented to lying face up within less than a second. She was shocked into silence for a moment. Then the pouting mouth turned into an "o" shape and the scream continued. The care-giver, who is a cousin, picked up the toddler and shushed her with a litany of reprimand.
Everyone overlooked the incident. Well, what do you expect of a forty-year-old bachelor? Also, most adults could not tolerate the show-off, controlling attitude of a bullying toddler. It was a calculating act to dominate a family gathering. Don't tell me that all babies are innocent. There is often one in ten who is almost born domineering and good at manipulating most adults.
*..........
(1178) Exploitation by landlords
While on the topic of my work stint in the state college, (this was written right after one of the intern blogs but not typed and published until much later) I should tell you about the housing estate around it. It just so happened that there was a mosque next to the area. Having been born and brought up in a Moslem country, I should be well versed in related laws. Yet I was surprised that there was a rule that within x metres from a mosque, no one could sell pork or pork products. The result is no Chinese eatery could exist there. I would say that half the shops in that area are empty. It is a half dead place.
We will call this area Pumpkin Spice Garden. When I first worked there, I brought extra breakfast as lunch. Then I went to the only pork free Chinese restaurant. There I quickly got tired of eating the mix rice cooked by a native cook. Soon I was hunting for a new place to eat on foot or by car.
There was one alley that I walked past that was foul smelling. I mentioned about that in the college office and my colleague, Jackson, laughed. Apparently there were land lords who partitioned both upstairs and down stairs into cubicles for foreign workers. It was not only fire traps, it was slum housing. Since the rental was at rock bottom, stopped-up toilets were not repaired. Urine flowed into the drains behind and around the shops that were meant for bath and rain water. The poor workers had to resort to using the toilets at work.
When I was a child, I have never heard nor seen a worker from any foreign country. It was in the roaring eighties that every rich Mary, Jane and Margaret hired Indonesian maids. Little do I know how badly foreign workers were being exploited in many places.
We will call this area Pumpkin Spice Garden. When I first worked there, I brought extra breakfast as lunch. Then I went to the only pork free Chinese restaurant. There I quickly got tired of eating the mix rice cooked by a native cook. Soon I was hunting for a new place to eat on foot or by car.
There was one alley that I walked past that was foul smelling. I mentioned about that in the college office and my colleague, Jackson, laughed. Apparently there were land lords who partitioned both upstairs and down stairs into cubicles for foreign workers. It was not only fire traps, it was slum housing. Since the rental was at rock bottom, stopped-up toilets were not repaired. Urine flowed into the drains behind and around the shops that were meant for bath and rain water. The poor workers had to resort to using the toilets at work.
When I was a child, I have never heard nor seen a worker from any foreign country. It was in the roaring eighties that every rich Mary, Jane and Margaret hired Indonesian maids. Little do I know how badly foreign workers were being exploited in many places.
(1177)Something new by Lucy Knisley
This is the very first cartoon novel I have read from front to back. My son was surprised as I have never been a visual cartoon enthusiast. Well, I still am not. The fact that I read it at all is a statement of high compliment to Lucy Knisley.
I was caught looking at a few frames now and then while waiting for students to arrive. Also books are returned every two weeks. The last batch was borrowed by my son while I went to medical camp. I have just run out of books to read a few days before the next run to the state library.
Something old
Something new
Some thing borrowed
Something blue
For my own wedding 30 over years ago, I wore an old bridal gown borrowed from a friend's friend. My best friend made me a new veil. I borrowed costume necklace and ear rings. My college buddy from US sent me a blue garter. From this book I read of the Swede custom of having gold and silver coins in the bride's shoes.
I still remember the beautiful ribbon roses, fixed on the church pews, made by a lady who teaches secondary school. She also decorated our borrowed gold coloured Mercedes for the wedding. All of these were done at cost and with love. My husband is a nice guy that is highly popular everywhere he goes.
I was caught looking at a few frames now and then while waiting for students to arrive. Also books are returned every two weeks. The last batch was borrowed by my son while I went to medical camp. I have just run out of books to read a few days before the next run to the state library.
Something old
Something new
Some thing borrowed
Something blue
For my own wedding 30 over years ago, I wore an old bridal gown borrowed from a friend's friend. My best friend made me a new veil. I borrowed costume necklace and ear rings. My college buddy from US sent me a blue garter. From this book I read of the Swede custom of having gold and silver coins in the bride's shoes.
I still remember the beautiful ribbon roses, fixed on the church pews, made by a lady who teaches secondary school. She also decorated our borrowed gold coloured Mercedes for the wedding. All of these were done at cost and with love. My husband is a nice guy that is highly popular everywhere he goes.
(1176) A Catching Game
A collection of 26 four wheel drive vehicles from four cities brought doctors, nurses, dentist, volunteers and basic food stuff to an area in need of medical care.
Here is a game that I observed in a hostel in Tambunan.
I was allotted a mattress in room 5. Right in front of the room is a paved area for hanging laundry out to dry. I was tired from trekking uphill from the river to the hill top school cum hostel, therefore I sat on the steps enjoying the mountain view. A few young girls walked about, collecting dry clothes as well as bed linen meant for us, the one-night guests to use. They peeped at me, smiled shyly. As I sat there in idleness, they began to play a game after folding the dry laundry in different rooms.
There were four girls, all of them looked like seven-year-olds to me. They are not only short, but small in stature as well. Of course I know I can't compare them to children in the affluent cities. They are probably children of small scale subsistence farmers, mostly from big families. This town is about five thousand feet high on a plateau. Most families plant wet rice paddy. Interestingly there is no scarecrows, no anything to chase away birds. It is indeed a most blessed place. It is an area surrounded by hills and mountains. The second highest mountain in Sabah was within hiking distance from where I was sitting.
The game they played was like "What is the time, Mr Wolf?" One girl started by leaning against the pole (one of the many that were there to attach lines for hanging wet clothes), she closed her eyes and count "One, Two ....Three". At three, she ran to catch the nearest playmate. While she was standing at the pole, the others squatted down near her. Each of the three wrapped their T-shirts around their knees. As the one at the pole closed her eyes, each "duck" waddled away swiftly. As long as the girl at the pole was counting, no one could stand up. At three, all hell break lose, everyone shrieked and shouted. The one that was caught groaned and became "it". All the others laughed.
Each girl that became "it" counted differently, some used Malay numbers, some used their own dialect. One gave some seconds between one and two, some don't. By the time the fourth girl became "it", she counted differently. She said, "One, two ... one hundred." Everyone laughed. Then she counted, "One, ... Two ... five hundred .." All the others, including the observers, complained. There was suspense, no chance to run. The "ducks" were very tired of waddling. At the fourth time of unconventional round, the p a system beeped and all the children were called to line up for dental checks. The game ended promptly.
Much later, a local volunteer talked to one of the girls I saw playing the waddling-running-catching game. Apparently she was in standard three.
Here is a game that I observed in a hostel in Tambunan.
I was allotted a mattress in room 5. Right in front of the room is a paved area for hanging laundry out to dry. I was tired from trekking uphill from the river to the hill top school cum hostel, therefore I sat on the steps enjoying the mountain view. A few young girls walked about, collecting dry clothes as well as bed linen meant for us, the one-night guests to use. They peeped at me, smiled shyly. As I sat there in idleness, they began to play a game after folding the dry laundry in different rooms.
There were four girls, all of them looked like seven-year-olds to me. They are not only short, but small in stature as well. Of course I know I can't compare them to children in the affluent cities. They are probably children of small scale subsistence farmers, mostly from big families. This town is about five thousand feet high on a plateau. Most families plant wet rice paddy. Interestingly there is no scarecrows, no anything to chase away birds. It is indeed a most blessed place. It is an area surrounded by hills and mountains. The second highest mountain in Sabah was within hiking distance from where I was sitting.
The game they played was like "What is the time, Mr Wolf?" One girl started by leaning against the pole (one of the many that were there to attach lines for hanging wet clothes), she closed her eyes and count "One, Two ....Three". At three, she ran to catch the nearest playmate. While she was standing at the pole, the others squatted down near her. Each of the three wrapped their T-shirts around their knees. As the one at the pole closed her eyes, each "duck" waddled away swiftly. As long as the girl at the pole was counting, no one could stand up. At three, all hell break lose, everyone shrieked and shouted. The one that was caught groaned and became "it". All the others laughed.
Each girl that became "it" counted differently, some used Malay numbers, some used their own dialect. One gave some seconds between one and two, some don't. By the time the fourth girl became "it", she counted differently. She said, "One, two ... one hundred." Everyone laughed. Then she counted, "One, ... Two ... five hundred .." All the others, including the observers, complained. There was suspense, no chance to run. The "ducks" were very tired of waddling. At the fourth time of unconventional round, the p a system beeped and all the children were called to line up for dental checks. The game ended promptly.
Much later, a local volunteer talked to one of the girls I saw playing the waddling-running-catching game. Apparently she was in standard three.
Tuesday, October 8, 2019
(1175) The grass is greener on the other side of the fence
As I sat in the vehicle listening to my host driver and his wife, I note that she has a sister residing in Ireland. The later just left after a long visit. Another sister from Canada has arrived. The host has a brother in Australia. Interestingly the brother has studied in FIT (Federal Institute of Technology), now part of UCSI, a private university in Kuala Lumpur, I have cousins who studied in a diploma program there long ago.
This brother, after he obtained a degree in engineering in another institution, migrated to Australia. As far as my host knows, he has not gotten a single professional job in his field throughout his stay in Australia. He and his family are still in that country down under.
In order to survive in that country, he took on a series of part-time jobs, including the job of a traffic controller in a public school. His mother went to visit him, that was what she said when she came back. According to the old lady, her son and daughter-in-law went through some rather lean times when they were new in that country. At one point of time, three of them were surviving on the child subsidy given by the government. I was rather shocked to hear that. Why did he not come back to Sabah, the land of plenty? Well, it was very difficult to have a crack of getting a residency permit anyway, how could he give up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?
I find it amazing that while main land Chinese migrate here under Malaysian my second home, Malaysians were dying to leave and would suffer long and hard to stay in a first world country. Now that Hong Kong is feeling the heat of Chinese bullets, I wonder how many Hong Kongers would migrate to Singapore and Malaysia soon?
This brother, after he obtained a degree in engineering in another institution, migrated to Australia. As far as my host knows, he has not gotten a single professional job in his field throughout his stay in Australia. He and his family are still in that country down under.
In order to survive in that country, he took on a series of part-time jobs, including the job of a traffic controller in a public school. His mother went to visit him, that was what she said when she came back. According to the old lady, her son and daughter-in-law went through some rather lean times when they were new in that country. At one point of time, three of them were surviving on the child subsidy given by the government. I was rather shocked to hear that. Why did he not come back to Sabah, the land of plenty? Well, it was very difficult to have a crack of getting a residency permit anyway, how could he give up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?
I find it amazing that while main land Chinese migrate here under Malaysian my second home, Malaysians were dying to leave and would suffer long and hard to stay in a first world country. Now that Hong Kong is feeling the heat of Chinese bullets, I wonder how many Hong Kongers would migrate to Singapore and Malaysia soon?
(1174) Visiting the orphans
Recently I went to another medical camp. We started driving at six in the morning. Since we did not have to travel in a convoy, we had time to eat breakfast.
One hour took us to Ranau, 1 800 feet above sea level. Another three hours we reached Tambunan, 5 000 feet above the sea. According to those who travel yearly there, the roads were much better than the previous year. It was muddy and bumpy last year. This year most of that road was widened and a lot of gravel were added. It was not only less bumpy, it was less dusty too.
That part of Sabah is mostly mountainous. This is the first time I heard that Sabah is the Switzerland of the East. It is beautiful!
This particular camp brought doctors, nurses, dentists and eye doctors. Broken into three groups, they served one remote village, an orphanage (for children of single parents) and a hostel. There were a few lady hairdressers who cut hair for the children, for them it was a day trip. I hitched a ride with the chuck wagon, therefore I went to the cooking shed near the river. After a hurriedly cooked lunch, I went to the hostel to put down my bag. Some volunteers cooked white rice and fried 5 kilos of small fish with salt the afternoon before. We reached the hostel by 11:30 am. A group of us set up shop and shelled onions, garlic and shallots. The chief cook fried a vegetable that is made up of a local leek, ginger pink flower (bunga gantang), onion and garlic and anchovy. It is a most delicious dish. Apparently a doctor first had it in a previous medical camp, kept asking for it and he even bought the ingredients on the way and took the trouble to cook it himself. In order to maximise his productivity, the organisers made a point of providing it for every future camp. We had onion fried eggs and two type of sambal. The cook used chili padi, sugar, salt, lime juice and belachan to make a watery sambal. Some individual bought a small jar of dried shrimp sambal that cost $15, to me it is expensive.
The night before our trip, it was 19 degrees in Tambunan. The night we were there, I had on one t-shirt, long pants and long sleeve plaid shirt and I slept in a sleeping bag all zip up towards the morning. Seven girls moved in with their school mates to accommodate us. We ended up ten people sleeping in the room with eight mattresses. The next morning, the mountains were spectacular with thin veils of sheer white misty clouds, like the long white veils that Chilean mountains are famous for.
All in, thirteen pairs of spectacles were needed for the orphans and the pupils in the hostel. The Lion Club will under write it all. These children, age 7 to 12, live too far to walk to school daily. They board five days a week, and return home during week ends and holidays. It was heartening to see 7 year olds washing their own clothes. This will produce a very independent group of young people.
It is a tradition that medical camp collected money form well wishers to buy a Kentucky Fried Chicken meals for each student in the hostel. Folks donate money to send 100 frozen chickens to the orphanage. Alternate year, either fish or pork were sent too, depending on the prices of sea catch. Since the past year, a very rich unnamed man donated $10 000 earmarked for buying medicine each medical camp. Apparently after donating the money, he hired a helicopter to fly him to that inaccessible place and check on the work. He was very pleased with what he saw, the cheques kept coming.
This is the last official camp for this year, as the monsoon rains will hit in November. By then it would be too dangerous to travel to the interior where there are no paved roads. However, I heard that there is one last one in December. Around Christmas, four all-terrain vehicles would fetch a cooking team, one doctor and two nurses, they would bring food, used clothes, toys, and new clothes to this really poor group living on the main road a reasonable distance from where I live. These are indigenous folks who are citizens. There is no school nearby, therefore generation after generation are being left behind in the economic pie. I saw a few photographs, those wooden houses have no walls. Dogs and people live in one room hovels. Before the medical camp people heard of them, all children under six have absolutely no clothes to wear. We cannot expect them to wear even slippers.
It took the Health Department officials to take a bunch of well wishers to this remote site. It is actually near enough for a day trip. Yet in more than 20 over years of medical camp history, they only learnt of this needy group a year or two ago. God willing, I hope to follow either the founder and his wife or the chuck wagon. In any case, my thick skin self would appeal to all and sundry for used clothes, clean toys or any household items those around me would donate over the next two months.
One hour took us to Ranau, 1 800 feet above sea level. Another three hours we reached Tambunan, 5 000 feet above the sea. According to those who travel yearly there, the roads were much better than the previous year. It was muddy and bumpy last year. This year most of that road was widened and a lot of gravel were added. It was not only less bumpy, it was less dusty too.
That part of Sabah is mostly mountainous. This is the first time I heard that Sabah is the Switzerland of the East. It is beautiful!
This particular camp brought doctors, nurses, dentists and eye doctors. Broken into three groups, they served one remote village, an orphanage (for children of single parents) and a hostel. There were a few lady hairdressers who cut hair for the children, for them it was a day trip. I hitched a ride with the chuck wagon, therefore I went to the cooking shed near the river. After a hurriedly cooked lunch, I went to the hostel to put down my bag. Some volunteers cooked white rice and fried 5 kilos of small fish with salt the afternoon before. We reached the hostel by 11:30 am. A group of us set up shop and shelled onions, garlic and shallots. The chief cook fried a vegetable that is made up of a local leek, ginger pink flower (bunga gantang), onion and garlic and anchovy. It is a most delicious dish. Apparently a doctor first had it in a previous medical camp, kept asking for it and he even bought the ingredients on the way and took the trouble to cook it himself. In order to maximise his productivity, the organisers made a point of providing it for every future camp. We had onion fried eggs and two type of sambal. The cook used chili padi, sugar, salt, lime juice and belachan to make a watery sambal. Some individual bought a small jar of dried shrimp sambal that cost $15, to me it is expensive.
The night before our trip, it was 19 degrees in Tambunan. The night we were there, I had on one t-shirt, long pants and long sleeve plaid shirt and I slept in a sleeping bag all zip up towards the morning. Seven girls moved in with their school mates to accommodate us. We ended up ten people sleeping in the room with eight mattresses. The next morning, the mountains were spectacular with thin veils of sheer white misty clouds, like the long white veils that Chilean mountains are famous for.
All in, thirteen pairs of spectacles were needed for the orphans and the pupils in the hostel. The Lion Club will under write it all. These children, age 7 to 12, live too far to walk to school daily. They board five days a week, and return home during week ends and holidays. It was heartening to see 7 year olds washing their own clothes. This will produce a very independent group of young people.
It is a tradition that medical camp collected money form well wishers to buy a Kentucky Fried Chicken meals for each student in the hostel. Folks donate money to send 100 frozen chickens to the orphanage. Alternate year, either fish or pork were sent too, depending on the prices of sea catch. Since the past year, a very rich unnamed man donated $10 000 earmarked for buying medicine each medical camp. Apparently after donating the money, he hired a helicopter to fly him to that inaccessible place and check on the work. He was very pleased with what he saw, the cheques kept coming.
This is the last official camp for this year, as the monsoon rains will hit in November. By then it would be too dangerous to travel to the interior where there are no paved roads. However, I heard that there is one last one in December. Around Christmas, four all-terrain vehicles would fetch a cooking team, one doctor and two nurses, they would bring food, used clothes, toys, and new clothes to this really poor group living on the main road a reasonable distance from where I live. These are indigenous folks who are citizens. There is no school nearby, therefore generation after generation are being left behind in the economic pie. I saw a few photographs, those wooden houses have no walls. Dogs and people live in one room hovels. Before the medical camp people heard of them, all children under six have absolutely no clothes to wear. We cannot expect them to wear even slippers.
It took the Health Department officials to take a bunch of well wishers to this remote site. It is actually near enough for a day trip. Yet in more than 20 over years of medical camp history, they only learnt of this needy group a year or two ago. God willing, I hope to follow either the founder and his wife or the chuck wagon. In any case, my thick skin self would appeal to all and sundry for used clothes, clean toys or any household items those around me would donate over the next two months.
(1173) Cost of Migration
Lately I seemed to be thinking and writing quite a few migration stories. I did mention a little about the following family in blog number 1156.
As I moved around my husband's university alumnus friends through the years, I have grown to like quite a few of them. We will call this particular one Tom. He is one of the most unassuming guys, gentle, kind, and there is no guile in him. It is very easy to like him.
As his life history goes, his wife forcibly moved him to Australia. In the new country, Tom has two daughters. The elder daughter is a most accomplished individual. In her high school, she easily won the Gold medal of the International English Exam for the entire commonwealth countries one particular year. During her free time, she picked up sufficient Korean from watching sitcoms that she could pass herself off as a Korean language graduate. Her first degree is in Japanese language. At some point of her twenties, she worked in Tokyo as a translator for two years.
I was very surprised when I heard that she went to study Library Science as a graduate degree. To my simplistic thinking, that line would be obsolete in a short time. But informed people told me that this field would merely narrow down. It would still be there, decentralised and in the digital world. A future librarian would have to be totally tech savvy, as he or she would navigate in the digital nether world. She would probably be dealing with other mediums of storage, not paper.
It was very interesting that my husband's friend is very contented with his life in his adopted country while each one of his children seems unhappy that their mum uses the children's allotted money from the government for house keeping. Here both parents are frugal and try very hard to make full use of whatever resources they have. They take each part-time job they could as jobs come along. Yet there is a sense of the children against the parents.
The elder daughter moved out as soon as she turned eighteen, I think. The younger daughter saw the disadvantages that her sister chose and elected to stay on with the family even when she was of age. I know little of how parents communicate with children overseas, a week or two of vacation does not allow one to really see life as it is in a new country. When I was with Tom's family, we had pasta for lunch. The elder daughter came back, the mother offered to cook extra pasta, fry two eggs and warm up mushroom soup; the visitor shook her head and went to her room to take a few items and proceeded to leave. Apparently she was displeased to bump into me and my husband. When I related this experience with another Aussie graduate, she said that is one of the cost of migration. She and her husband counted the cost and they did not go even though they were offered the green card twice.
As I moved around my husband's university alumnus friends through the years, I have grown to like quite a few of them. We will call this particular one Tom. He is one of the most unassuming guys, gentle, kind, and there is no guile in him. It is very easy to like him.
As his life history goes, his wife forcibly moved him to Australia. In the new country, Tom has two daughters. The elder daughter is a most accomplished individual. In her high school, she easily won the Gold medal of the International English Exam for the entire commonwealth countries one particular year. During her free time, she picked up sufficient Korean from watching sitcoms that she could pass herself off as a Korean language graduate. Her first degree is in Japanese language. At some point of her twenties, she worked in Tokyo as a translator for two years.
I was very surprised when I heard that she went to study Library Science as a graduate degree. To my simplistic thinking, that line would be obsolete in a short time. But informed people told me that this field would merely narrow down. It would still be there, decentralised and in the digital world. A future librarian would have to be totally tech savvy, as he or she would navigate in the digital nether world. She would probably be dealing with other mediums of storage, not paper.
It was very interesting that my husband's friend is very contented with his life in his adopted country while each one of his children seems unhappy that their mum uses the children's allotted money from the government for house keeping. Here both parents are frugal and try very hard to make full use of whatever resources they have. They take each part-time job they could as jobs come along. Yet there is a sense of the children against the parents.
The elder daughter moved out as soon as she turned eighteen, I think. The younger daughter saw the disadvantages that her sister chose and elected to stay on with the family even when she was of age. I know little of how parents communicate with children overseas, a week or two of vacation does not allow one to really see life as it is in a new country. When I was with Tom's family, we had pasta for lunch. The elder daughter came back, the mother offered to cook extra pasta, fry two eggs and warm up mushroom soup; the visitor shook her head and went to her room to take a few items and proceeded to leave. Apparently she was displeased to bump into me and my husband. When I related this experience with another Aussie graduate, she said that is one of the cost of migration. She and her husband counted the cost and they did not go even though they were offered the green card twice.
(1172)The cutting of ties.
Chinese New Year gatherings are usually held in the Low family home. As in most middle-income families, the Lows have two children. Victor is the older and Mauve is the younger one. Victor grew up with his paternal granddad and grandma. Mauve was in her maternal grandparents' house until she was six.
They have three cousins: Joshua, Denise and Elise. Joshua and Elise grew up with their stay-at-home mom. Denise was the odd one out, she lived under the care of her father's parents. During most school holidays, Joshua and Elise would spend many weeks with Victor and Mauve. The latter's parents were most hospitable.
One Chinese New Year, the two older children: the two boys elected to play their preferred card games. It is usually the dominant who leads the pack, not just among children but true for dogs and chickens as well. In this case, Denise chose to take offence. She sulked and snuck upstairs to read books. The house downstairs were filled with loads of adults, walking in and out of the kitchen, busy talking and eating Chinese New Year delicacies. By the time some guests moved off and the adults noticed, the down-stairs group was uproariously enjoying their game of Bluff. The lonely one upstairs was hurt and upset. Anyway, it was time to take her back to her grandparents.
Since the three children's parents (j, d and e) actually live in a town two hours by car away from the Lows, it was not often that Denise had the chance to visit the Lows. It is interesting that was the very last time Denise appeared in the Low's house. Strong opinions dictated that after both grandparents passed on, she finally broke the pattern and appeared once again twenty years later. As a result of her choice to take offence and talked her elders into letting her off the visit for consecutive years, she wilfully cut off her ties to 50% of her relatives. It is amazing or rather horrifying that such a small incident ( the grandma called it smelly cat poo) - children's disagreement could lead to the end result.
*.......
They have three cousins: Joshua, Denise and Elise. Joshua and Elise grew up with their stay-at-home mom. Denise was the odd one out, she lived under the care of her father's parents. During most school holidays, Joshua and Elise would spend many weeks with Victor and Mauve. The latter's parents were most hospitable.
One Chinese New Year, the two older children: the two boys elected to play their preferred card games. It is usually the dominant who leads the pack, not just among children but true for dogs and chickens as well. In this case, Denise chose to take offence. She sulked and snuck upstairs to read books. The house downstairs were filled with loads of adults, walking in and out of the kitchen, busy talking and eating Chinese New Year delicacies. By the time some guests moved off and the adults noticed, the down-stairs group was uproariously enjoying their game of Bluff. The lonely one upstairs was hurt and upset. Anyway, it was time to take her back to her grandparents.
Since the three children's parents (j, d and e) actually live in a town two hours by car away from the Lows, it was not often that Denise had the chance to visit the Lows. It is interesting that was the very last time Denise appeared in the Low's house. Strong opinions dictated that after both grandparents passed on, she finally broke the pattern and appeared once again twenty years later. As a result of her choice to take offence and talked her elders into letting her off the visit for consecutive years, she wilfully cut off her ties to 50% of her relatives. It is amazing or rather horrifying that such a small incident ( the grandma called it smelly cat poo) - children's disagreement could lead to the end result.
*.......
(1171) Confucius proverb
There is a Chinese proverb: a woman with no material talent is virtuous. I was never quite a feminist but had problem with this saying for many years.
We will look at four cases:
1. My mum's best friend is a very blessed woman. She single-handedly brought up six children and all her children love and respect her. Probably fifteen years ago, her rich son bought a new house for her and husband and unmarried daughter, it was in a very exclusive and desirable area. The entire family wanted them to move but she vetoed the idea. They continued to stay in an old house next to a highway: noisy, dusty and the neighbourhood was deteriorating to become foreign workers' bunk houses. After the untimely death of her husband, she lived on a comfortable trust fund with her only daughter. No one knows if she had elected to move out of the unhealthy area, her husband might have lived a little longer.
2. My mother-in-law was a woman of means. When her husband passed on, the family suggested moving her to an apartment near her youngest child. She categorically objected and the idea became moot. Probably about fifteen years later, she cried and groaned about being confined in her prison of a house to all and sundry. But it was too late, no one dares to take on the thankless task of relocating her as she was infirm and was awaiting death.
3. My good friend (blog 1133) will probably face the same kind of problem in about ten years' time. This friend of mine was a famous business woman in her hey days. She inherited loads in her mature years and became very active in increasing her portfolio. She expected to live with her daughters-in-law and grand children all under the same roof. But in real life her first son and wife are in a house more than 5 miles from the 7-room detached building.
4. My mum has only three children. She has long been what Confucius termed a virtuous woman. When she was young, she obeyed her mum and dad. After she was married, she listened to my dad. Now that she is widowed, she listens to my brothers. Because she has no money-making talents, and she did not inherit great wealth, therefore she could not vote to go against the better judgement of her kin. In contrast she lives a good life, well loved and cared for by the next two generations. It is ironic that the great sage could say four little words that could still govern life under the sun a few thousand years later.
Money could confer the choice of making wrong decisions for the woman concerned. Unhappily, a woman of means could let her independence lead her into her bind in the end.
We will look at four cases:
1. My mum's best friend is a very blessed woman. She single-handedly brought up six children and all her children love and respect her. Probably fifteen years ago, her rich son bought a new house for her and husband and unmarried daughter, it was in a very exclusive and desirable area. The entire family wanted them to move but she vetoed the idea. They continued to stay in an old house next to a highway: noisy, dusty and the neighbourhood was deteriorating to become foreign workers' bunk houses. After the untimely death of her husband, she lived on a comfortable trust fund with her only daughter. No one knows if she had elected to move out of the unhealthy area, her husband might have lived a little longer.
2. My mother-in-law was a woman of means. When her husband passed on, the family suggested moving her to an apartment near her youngest child. She categorically objected and the idea became moot. Probably about fifteen years later, she cried and groaned about being confined in her prison of a house to all and sundry. But it was too late, no one dares to take on the thankless task of relocating her as she was infirm and was awaiting death.
3. My good friend (blog 1133) will probably face the same kind of problem in about ten years' time. This friend of mine was a famous business woman in her hey days. She inherited loads in her mature years and became very active in increasing her portfolio. She expected to live with her daughters-in-law and grand children all under the same roof. But in real life her first son and wife are in a house more than 5 miles from the 7-room detached building.
4. My mum has only three children. She has long been what Confucius termed a virtuous woman. When she was young, she obeyed her mum and dad. After she was married, she listened to my dad. Now that she is widowed, she listens to my brothers. Because she has no money-making talents, and she did not inherit great wealth, therefore she could not vote to go against the better judgement of her kin. In contrast she lives a good life, well loved and cared for by the next two generations. It is ironic that the great sage could say four little words that could still govern life under the sun a few thousand years later.
Money could confer the choice of making wrong decisions for the woman concerned. Unhappily, a woman of means could let her independence lead her into her bind in the end.
Wednesday, October 2, 2019
(1170) Rebuke
As the second anniversary of my hospitalisation drew near, I prayed another searching prayer. The gist of it involved two dates, one in May and one in July. The proposed trip in May lasts about seven weeks and the one in July about nine weeks. Of course the amount attached to July would be much more than May because of the duration of the trip.
Much to my surprise, money did come in the form of money remitted from out of my country, about four hundred more than what I asked for. That itself is another side story.
The amount that arrived paid for outgoing ticket to Sabah, living expenses for nine weeks. In addition, using the money sent in, I bought return ticket to KL and outgoing to Borneo after nine weeks. One week before the return date, I was very discouraged. In my heart, I was thinking: very smart, how could you abandon a comfortable existence and come here to deal with terrible plumbing in Borneo?? I was very tempted to fly back to KL and burn the outgoing ticket. Then I would tell God please give me a house with a proper functioning toilet before I fly out.
My pastor was a relatively young chap who dares to preach God's truth without fearing the congregation. To be truthful, I seldom hear of preachers who preach like him in KL or Silver City. That Sunday his message hit my heart. He said that in every life there is a mission. We are not created to enjoy comfort, to have a good time on earth alone. We each are amazingly crafted to fulfil one or many specific purpose(s) to bless others and to glorify God in the process.
I felt really ashamed. Here I am, complaining about no kitchen facilities. Moaning about toilet water source that leaks and the outlet conduit that is stuck. How was I to survive if he did bring me to that place with no water and electrical supply?
Within a week, I changed my mind. I burned two tickets and stayed on with my own funds. Foolish, perhaps. But by now I saw the 16 year-old student reading some days on a standard 4 level in English stories, it is very gratifying. At least I am doing something constructive with my golden years. Since I am not an ambitious person, I'll help one child at a time, like the person who pick one star fish at a time to throw it back to the sea. One star fish thrown back to the water is one life saved. For those whose life I touch, one person is immeasurably loved by God, worthy of all my attention for a few years in the creator's eyes.
Much to my surprise, money did come in the form of money remitted from out of my country, about four hundred more than what I asked for. That itself is another side story.
The amount that arrived paid for outgoing ticket to Sabah, living expenses for nine weeks. In addition, using the money sent in, I bought return ticket to KL and outgoing to Borneo after nine weeks. One week before the return date, I was very discouraged. In my heart, I was thinking: very smart, how could you abandon a comfortable existence and come here to deal with terrible plumbing in Borneo?? I was very tempted to fly back to KL and burn the outgoing ticket. Then I would tell God please give me a house with a proper functioning toilet before I fly out.
My pastor was a relatively young chap who dares to preach God's truth without fearing the congregation. To be truthful, I seldom hear of preachers who preach like him in KL or Silver City. That Sunday his message hit my heart. He said that in every life there is a mission. We are not created to enjoy comfort, to have a good time on earth alone. We each are amazingly crafted to fulfil one or many specific purpose(s) to bless others and to glorify God in the process.
I felt really ashamed. Here I am, complaining about no kitchen facilities. Moaning about toilet water source that leaks and the outlet conduit that is stuck. How was I to survive if he did bring me to that place with no water and electrical supply?
Within a week, I changed my mind. I burned two tickets and stayed on with my own funds. Foolish, perhaps. But by now I saw the 16 year-old student reading some days on a standard 4 level in English stories, it is very gratifying. At least I am doing something constructive with my golden years. Since I am not an ambitious person, I'll help one child at a time, like the person who pick one star fish at a time to throw it back to the sea. One star fish thrown back to the water is one life saved. For those whose life I touch, one person is immeasurably loved by God, worthy of all my attention for a few years in the creator's eyes.
(1169) The valley of the shadow of death
After returning to my hometown, it was filled with a series of medical appointments. From GP to Specialist, from semi Government to Government hospitals. Two CAT scans and a scope test later, I found myself with a life threatening disease.
Chemotherapy, radiotherapy, Brachytherapy ... blood infusion, medical officers, specialists, nurses, nutritionists ... Indeed having such a disease is like fighting a war. The bright side of things is when I went for prayers in a big conference in Singapore, the lady who prayed for me said that I did nothing wrong, God was pleased with me. She said that God told her I trusted God fully. Just go through what the doctors ordered and God would heal me.
He did. On July 10 I had a three-monthly follow up and would move to a 6-monthly check up next. I took a look at my medical records, as I flew to Sabah, it was exactly 2 years to the day since I went into the hospital.
Chemotherapy, radiotherapy, Brachytherapy ... blood infusion, medical officers, specialists, nurses, nutritionists ... Indeed having such a disease is like fighting a war. The bright side of things is when I went for prayers in a big conference in Singapore, the lady who prayed for me said that I did nothing wrong, God was pleased with me. She said that God told her I trusted God fully. Just go through what the doctors ordered and God would heal me.
He did. On July 10 I had a three-monthly follow up and would move to a 6-monthly check up next. I took a look at my medical records, as I flew to Sabah, it was exactly 2 years to the day since I went into the hospital.
(1168) Good-bye
In December 2016, our landlord intended to increase our rental. I told God and asked what next, He said, go home.
That I did. It was heart-breaking giving up more than half of what I had accumulated in the three room, three bath house with a comfortable living room. Yet it was heartening to see the maid who received my household goods crying and praising God for her blessing.
We moved what my son needed into two small rooms on top of a shop. I left Seldarado, not knowing if it was a good bye for ever. Giving thanks for 2.5 years of peace and happiness.
That I did. It was heart-breaking giving up more than half of what I had accumulated in the three room, three bath house with a comfortable living room. Yet it was heartening to see the maid who received my household goods crying and praising God for her blessing.
We moved what my son needed into two small rooms on top of a shop. I left Seldarado, not knowing if it was a good bye for ever. Giving thanks for 2.5 years of peace and happiness.
(1167) Reaching to help one child
I still remember how a church kindergarten teacher passed her group of six tuition children to my son in the beginning of September, 2013.
Among the six, there was a 11-year-old boy who was afraid of drum beats from lion dance. Looking at his white face, sweating palms and drops of cold sweat whenever there was a practice of lion dance troupe within audio range.
This boy was suicidal. He viewed his life as grey, there was seemingly no hope in sight. Over a period of six months or so, I tried everything I knew or dreamed up with him. Nothing seemed to work. While he was in depression, I was in despair.
By chance, I sat next to an old lady who happened to be the prayer warrior in church over lunch. She politely enquired about our tuition students, out came my doomed and gloomed reply. She told me how I should have structured prayer time and spend at least two hours in prayer every morning before breakfast. On hearing my protest that I could not sustained continuous prayer more than half an hour, she suggested I pray in tongues. What if I fall asleep while praying? She suggested a bed time of 8pm and wake up at 5am. She said that it does not take the brain to pray in tongues, I could be reading an interesting book while praying continually.
That I did, for slightly more than one year. I must confess that while I was praying, I saw no result whatsoever. It was after I left Borneo, stopped praying that my son gradually told me the boy's sudden improvements by leaps and bounds over a 2 year period.
Among the six, there was a 11-year-old boy who was afraid of drum beats from lion dance. Looking at his white face, sweating palms and drops of cold sweat whenever there was a practice of lion dance troupe within audio range.
This boy was suicidal. He viewed his life as grey, there was seemingly no hope in sight. Over a period of six months or so, I tried everything I knew or dreamed up with him. Nothing seemed to work. While he was in depression, I was in despair.
By chance, I sat next to an old lady who happened to be the prayer warrior in church over lunch. She politely enquired about our tuition students, out came my doomed and gloomed reply. She told me how I should have structured prayer time and spend at least two hours in prayer every morning before breakfast. On hearing my protest that I could not sustained continuous prayer more than half an hour, she suggested I pray in tongues. What if I fall asleep while praying? She suggested a bed time of 8pm and wake up at 5am. She said that it does not take the brain to pray in tongues, I could be reading an interesting book while praying continually.
That I did, for slightly more than one year. I must confess that while I was praying, I saw no result whatsoever. It was after I left Borneo, stopped praying that my son gradually told me the boy's sudden improvements by leaps and bounds over a 2 year period.
(1166) Residency
Twelve months passed very fast. The supposed last trip was slotted during the last two weeks of the 12-month rental period. My son wisely told me that it was probably futile making one-week trips, I needed longer to get a job.
During the second week, my husband and I sent our old car for servicing. We went to a shop in mile seven that we never visited. As the car was being worked on, we had breakfast and I walked around the area. Upon seeing a college, I stepped up to ask if there was a vacancy for an English instructor.
Amazingly, there was a need for a substitute teacher for maternity replacement. I sent in a resume with the relevant certificates, and I was hired within four days. With a letter of appointment from the college, I made seven trips to the immigration office during teaching hours and obtained a one-year work permit.
During the second week, my husband and I sent our old car for servicing. We went to a shop in mile seven that we never visited. As the car was being worked on, we had breakfast and I walked around the area. Upon seeing a college, I stepped up to ask if there was a vacancy for an English instructor.
Amazingly, there was a need for a substitute teacher for maternity replacement. I sent in a resume with the relevant certificates, and I was hired within four days. With a letter of appointment from the college, I made seven trips to the immigration office during teaching hours and obtained a one-year work permit.
(1165) Setting house keeping
After renting the house, I must have made at least four trips to bring stuff over. Every second household item I owned was packed in boxes and brought over. I still recall sending seven boxes over using 30 kilo limit that cost $15 for one particular trip.
My husband sent our old car over by ship. It cost slightly more than $2 000. Until we had a car there, we went everywhere by mini bus.
There was one trip I went over alone, Laynee was leaving Seldarado and sold me her air-conditioner. One morning the service folks came and installed the unit in the Master's suite. After the men left, I closed the front wooden door and proceeded to mop the floor. In a moment of inattention, I slipped on the wet floor and fell. I must have hit my head and passed out. It took me a long time after regaining consciousness to gather enough strength to get up. My shoulder hurt terribly. It occurred to me momentarily that if I could not get up, I might die in an empty house. It was fortunate that by the time I returned home, the arm was finally able to move normally.
Thereafter, I left a set of house keys with friends.
My husband sent our old car over by ship. It cost slightly more than $2 000. Until we had a car there, we went everywhere by mini bus.
There was one trip I went over alone, Laynee was leaving Seldarado and sold me her air-conditioner. One morning the service folks came and installed the unit in the Master's suite. After the men left, I closed the front wooden door and proceeded to mop the floor. In a moment of inattention, I slipped on the wet floor and fell. I must have hit my head and passed out. It took me a long time after regaining consciousness to gather enough strength to get up. My shoulder hurt terribly. It occurred to me momentarily that if I could not get up, I might die in an empty house. It was fortunate that by the time I returned home, the arm was finally able to move normally.
Thereafter, I left a set of house keys with friends.
(1164) Confirmation
I then prayed specifically for one year's rental $550 x 12. It is a small amount by any standard. But you see, I asked for a three room apartment with a market value of $800 monthly lease. I figure, if God really want me in Seldarado, then nothing to it for him to convince some landlord to give me low rental.
The amount came in the form of inheritance. My dad was a Godly man who would send money back to build a stone house for his mom and deceased brother's family. As the family estate was being sold, some money came for my brothers and I. It was not a large amount, but definitely sufficient for one year's rental.
The apartment I asked for, however, came in the form of a double-storey house with land at the back. It was much better than any apartment possible. A pastor's sister was willing to let it at low rental for bible translators. The introducer was a missionary, he did not want to move as he just obtained stable Wi-Fi for his graduate on-line course. Since my husband was a member of a Friend of Bible Translation NGO, we were thought to be translators.
The amount came in the form of inheritance. My dad was a Godly man who would send money back to build a stone house for his mom and deceased brother's family. As the family estate was being sold, some money came for my brothers and I. It was not a large amount, but definitely sufficient for one year's rental.
The apartment I asked for, however, came in the form of a double-storey house with land at the back. It was much better than any apartment possible. A pastor's sister was willing to let it at low rental for bible translators. The introducer was a missionary, he did not want to move as he just obtained stable Wi-Fi for his graduate on-line course. Since my husband was a member of a Friend of Bible Translation NGO, we were thought to be translators.
(1163) A Promise
I returned home and told my mother what happened in the last blog. We talked about it for a week or two and she was curious enough to offer to finance another trip to Seldarado. The second trip we stayed for seven nights. Nothing happened during the seven nights. We had a good time eating sea food and seeing the town that was a former capital city before WW2.
Interestingly, the very night I returned to my home in the Klang valley, I had a vivid dream. Until today I could see the dream if I close my eyes. In the dream I was sitting in front of a mirror in a changing room, probably behind a stage. Laynee, my Orang Sungai friend from Seldorado, was putting finishing touches on my elaborate hairdo. In the dream I had long black hair, something like what I had during my carefree college days.
"Don't be afraid! See the beautiful dress hung there. You will look fine. Just five minutes and your part will be over. It will be ok, you'll see..." Laynee said with encouragement.
It was a light green dress, sparkling and shimmering like those ball room dancing gowns one sees on TV. The dream ended.
A few days later, the interpretation came: If you choose Seldarado, I will give you a new life there.
Within a week, I told God I chose Seldarado and I wanted the new life offered.
Interestingly, the very night I returned to my home in the Klang valley, I had a vivid dream. Until today I could see the dream if I close my eyes. In the dream I was sitting in front of a mirror in a changing room, probably behind a stage. Laynee, my Orang Sungai friend from Seldorado, was putting finishing touches on my elaborate hairdo. In the dream I had long black hair, something like what I had during my carefree college days.
"Don't be afraid! See the beautiful dress hung there. You will look fine. Just five minutes and your part will be over. It will be ok, you'll see..." Laynee said with encouragement.
It was a light green dress, sparkling and shimmering like those ball room dancing gowns one sees on TV. The dream ended.
A few days later, the interpretation came: If you choose Seldarado, I will give you a new life there.
Within a week, I told God I chose Seldarado and I wanted the new life offered.
(1162) A call in a dream
The prophesy in 1984 stated that I would serve God in a place with no pipe water nor grid electricity with two bags.
In one night, while on a three day two night trip to Seldarado in the first half of the year, I woke up thinking I heard some one calling my name which was used in America as a college student.
If I had been alert and fearless, I should have said," Lord, speak, for your servant is listening."
I was a fearful person who still recalled my grandma's advice not to answer a call unless I could see the person calling, especially in the wilderness. Since the hotel was kind of set in an area with lots of fields and woods, it felt like a wilderness area. I did not answer the call.
In one night, while on a three day two night trip to Seldarado in the first half of the year, I woke up thinking I heard some one calling my name which was used in America as a college student.
If I had been alert and fearless, I should have said," Lord, speak, for your servant is listening."
I was a fearful person who still recalled my grandma's advice not to answer a call unless I could see the person calling, especially in the wilderness. Since the hotel was kind of set in an area with lots of fields and woods, it felt like a wilderness area. I did not answer the call.
(1161) Summary of a long story
I was collecting alkaline water in the office as my contact asked me," Are you from Seldarado?" Most people assumed that I was originally from this town. If not, then why did I end up spending years here?
Well, it was a long story. Normally, I don't really want to tell. Neither did anyone who asked really want to hear it. A few days later, I wondered if I could summarised the happenings within ten points. One afternoon I picked up a pen and wrote down ten pieces of facts.
1. I received a prophesy in the New Braunfels First Baptist Church on the last Sunday of September, 1984.
2. I had a dream in Seldarado, Sabah in 2013
3. A second dream with interpretation came three months or so later.
4. Answer to my prayer for one year's rental came.
5. A few trips to bring stuff over to equip a house by faith, an old car was shipped over
6. On the last two weeks' of that one year's rental, by chance I found a contract teaching job that gave me a work permit for one year's stay in August 2013.
7. Helping to teach my son's student, I came to the end of human methodology. Resorted to serious and persistent praying for a suicidal 11 year old boy.
8. Marching order to return to my home across the sea after 2.5 years in residence in Seldarado. Giving away half our household to fit into two small rooms, my son stayed on.
9. Hospitalisation and the fight for my life. God's promise to heal. Published three books in paper format, medical fee is high.
10. Confirmation of plan to return to Seldarado on July 11, 2019 of $3407 given by kind people I newly met. Ended up working with a 16 year old who could not read in Chinese, English and Malay. Received direct guidance and began to see effect of my intervention in early September.
The following nine blogs would document this process that took about over forty years to fulfil.
Well, it was a long story. Normally, I don't really want to tell. Neither did anyone who asked really want to hear it. A few days later, I wondered if I could summarised the happenings within ten points. One afternoon I picked up a pen and wrote down ten pieces of facts.
1. I received a prophesy in the New Braunfels First Baptist Church on the last Sunday of September, 1984.
2. I had a dream in Seldarado, Sabah in 2013
3. A second dream with interpretation came three months or so later.
4. Answer to my prayer for one year's rental came.
5. A few trips to bring stuff over to equip a house by faith, an old car was shipped over
6. On the last two weeks' of that one year's rental, by chance I found a contract teaching job that gave me a work permit for one year's stay in August 2013.
7. Helping to teach my son's student, I came to the end of human methodology. Resorted to serious and persistent praying for a suicidal 11 year old boy.
8. Marching order to return to my home across the sea after 2.5 years in residence in Seldarado. Giving away half our household to fit into two small rooms, my son stayed on.
9. Hospitalisation and the fight for my life. God's promise to heal. Published three books in paper format, medical fee is high.
10. Confirmation of plan to return to Seldarado on July 11, 2019 of $3407 given by kind people I newly met. Ended up working with a 16 year old who could not read in Chinese, English and Malay. Received direct guidance and began to see effect of my intervention in early September.
The following nine blogs would document this process that took about over forty years to fulfil.
(1160) simple and economic meals
Yesterday I had a small fried bawal putin (white pomfret) fish at my usual lunch place.
Here is the reminiscent tale I told my son:-
Probably twenty over years ago I was tagging along with Angie, after picking up something from a friend's house, we dropped by May Leng's.
That year both of May Leng's children were in morning session school. We all three were regulars at the mothers' group. Smelling a fragrant fried fish scent, I lifted the food cover and saw one tiny (as big as my palm) bawal putih fish, nicely fried with some flour coating it.
Later in the car, Angie and I expressed our surprise at serving one fish for two growing children. It is not that Angie was rich or I was lavish in serving sumptuous lunches. I guessed that May Leng might later fry a vegetable and had steamed egg in the rice cooker. Angie was adamant that a fish and white rice was lunch. She said that she would bet $10 against five cents that she was right. I was not a betting type and I let the challenge slid.
As she drove me home she reminded me that the tiny house could boast of a Compaq computer, a Sony VCD player and a wide screen Panasonic TV... May Leng's husband probably lived it up as a graduate lecturer in a prestigious University in KL. Yet May Leng and the children lived a most economical lifestyle in Silver City. Angie had been marketing with our economical friend many times and she was appalled at how little the thrifty woman purchased at a regular basis.
After that day, I was a little more observant and the accumulated information over time did reveal a similar story as the image Angie painted. If my husband values me for my knowledge and insight, May Leng's probably loved her for her economic prudence. To each his own, I supposed. Today, I look at the two healthy grown children(yes, I am still in touch), it is quite ok to be brought up on simple, economic fare.
Here is the reminiscent tale I told my son:-
Probably twenty over years ago I was tagging along with Angie, after picking up something from a friend's house, we dropped by May Leng's.
That year both of May Leng's children were in morning session school. We all three were regulars at the mothers' group. Smelling a fragrant fried fish scent, I lifted the food cover and saw one tiny (as big as my palm) bawal putih fish, nicely fried with some flour coating it.
Later in the car, Angie and I expressed our surprise at serving one fish for two growing children. It is not that Angie was rich or I was lavish in serving sumptuous lunches. I guessed that May Leng might later fry a vegetable and had steamed egg in the rice cooker. Angie was adamant that a fish and white rice was lunch. She said that she would bet $10 against five cents that she was right. I was not a betting type and I let the challenge slid.
As she drove me home she reminded me that the tiny house could boast of a Compaq computer, a Sony VCD player and a wide screen Panasonic TV... May Leng's husband probably lived it up as a graduate lecturer in a prestigious University in KL. Yet May Leng and the children lived a most economical lifestyle in Silver City. Angie had been marketing with our economical friend many times and she was appalled at how little the thrifty woman purchased at a regular basis.
After that day, I was a little more observant and the accumulated information over time did reveal a similar story as the image Angie painted. If my husband values me for my knowledge and insight, May Leng's probably loved her for her economic prudence. To each his own, I supposed. Today, I look at the two healthy grown children(yes, I am still in touch), it is quite ok to be brought up on simple, economic fare.
(1159) Exploitation
While on the topic of my work stint in the state college, I should tell you about the housing estate around it. It just so happened that there was a mosque next to the area. Having been born and brought up in a Moslem country, I should be well versed in related laws. Yet I was surprised that there was a rule that within x metres from a mosque, no one could sell pork or pork products. The result is no Chinese eatery could exist there. I would say that half the shops in that area are empty. It is a half dead place.
We will call this area Pumpkin Spice Garden. When I first worked there, I brought extra breakfast as lunch. Then I went to the only pork free Chinese restaurant. There I quickly got tired of eating the mix rice cooked by a native cook. Soon I was hunting for a new place to eat on foot or by car.
There was one alley that I walked past that was foul smelling. I mentioned about that in the college office and my colleague, Jackson, laughed. Apparently there were land lords who partitioned both upstairs and down stairs into cubicles for foreign workers. It was not only fire traps, it was slum housing. Since the rental was at rock bottom, stopped-up toilets were not repaired. Urine flowed into the drains behind and around the shops that were meant for bath water. The poor workers had to resort to using the toilets at work.
When I was a child, I have never heard nor seen any worker from any foreign country. It was in the roaring eighties that every rich Mary, Jane and Margaret hired Indonesian maids. Little do I know how badly foreign workers were being exploited.
We will call this area Pumpkin Spice Garden. When I first worked there, I brought extra breakfast as lunch. Then I went to the only pork free Chinese restaurant. There I quickly got tired of eating the mix rice cooked by a native cook. Soon I was hunting for a new place to eat on foot or by car.
There was one alley that I walked past that was foul smelling. I mentioned about that in the college office and my colleague, Jackson, laughed. Apparently there were land lords who partitioned both upstairs and down stairs into cubicles for foreign workers. It was not only fire traps, it was slum housing. Since the rental was at rock bottom, stopped-up toilets were not repaired. Urine flowed into the drains behind and around the shops that were meant for bath water. The poor workers had to resort to using the toilets at work.
When I was a child, I have never heard nor seen any worker from any foreign country. It was in the roaring eighties that every rich Mary, Jane and Margaret hired Indonesian maids. Little do I know how badly foreign workers were being exploited.
Monday, September 16, 2019
(1158) Intern 2
After the first intern left, a second one appeared. She was quiet, hard working and I seldom see her visiting the loo.
One day I returned from lunch and walked into the Accounts Office. Rosyati was not there. I was about to leave when the second intern popped up from behind her desk. She was actually eating her home brought lunch seated on the carpeted floor. As she put down her food container on the desk, walked into the inner office to pick up what Rosyat left for me, I saw that she was eating white rice with table salt.
The next morning I mentioned my observation to Rosyati. She was not surprised as state colleges do not pay the interns at all. The next few days I noticed Rosyati bringing refrigerated left overs from dinner, placing the food in small containers next to the sunlit windows. She simply cooked extra to feed her diligent helper.
Over the next days, this intern told me she came from the interior. There is a relative working near our college. She obtained permission to sleep in a narrow space in one room with four other girls. In exchange for the space, she washed the clothes of her roommates. There is no food preparation space nor cooking facilities. She paid a housewife nearby four dollars a day for food. In the morning she ate boiled bananas. Lunch would be rice with vegetables unless the lady was serving meat for dinner. Then she has a meagre lunch of white rice with salt. To a girl from the village far from the city, it was not undue hardship. This is actually the last hurdle for her, if she successfully completes the internship, she could graduate and get a paying job.
One day I returned from lunch and walked into the Accounts Office. Rosyati was not there. I was about to leave when the second intern popped up from behind her desk. She was actually eating her home brought lunch seated on the carpeted floor. As she put down her food container on the desk, walked into the inner office to pick up what Rosyat left for me, I saw that she was eating white rice with table salt.
The next morning I mentioned my observation to Rosyati. She was not surprised as state colleges do not pay the interns at all. The next few days I noticed Rosyati bringing refrigerated left overs from dinner, placing the food in small containers next to the sunlit windows. She simply cooked extra to feed her diligent helper.
Over the next days, this intern told me she came from the interior. There is a relative working near our college. She obtained permission to sleep in a narrow space in one room with four other girls. In exchange for the space, she washed the clothes of her roommates. There is no food preparation space nor cooking facilities. She paid a housewife nearby four dollars a day for food. In the morning she ate boiled bananas. Lunch would be rice with vegetables unless the lady was serving meat for dinner. Then she has a meagre lunch of white rice with salt. To a girl from the village far from the city, it was not undue hardship. This is actually the last hurdle for her, if she successfully completes the internship, she could graduate and get a paying job.
(1157) Intern 1
My grandma had many Hakka proverbs. One of them is "lan yan toh si liu". It basically states that lazy people has lots of toilet breaks.
That illustrated an intern in the community college I worked in four years ago. My desk was about ten feet away from the toilet entrance. If I care to, I could keep a log of my colleague's breaks. To be fair, most folks were conscientious. One Friday I stayed behind to enter marks into my register. Those tabulated results had to be submitted on Monday morning. Since scoring English papers took time, I couldn't have done it any earlier.
I was surprised to see my colleague from the Accounts Department. Office hours were eight to four, Monday to Friday. Rosyati confessed that she stayed to fill in forms from her Intern's college. No, this particular intern is no help at all. The latter was willing but very careless. Instead of assigning work to the intern and having to check line by line, the supervisor would rather leave the girl to menial tasks with lots of free time. That explained the frequent toilet visits. Well, a girl had to apply lipstick, wash hands, pat the hair blown and disarrayed by air-conditioner...
That illustrated an intern in the community college I worked in four years ago. My desk was about ten feet away from the toilet entrance. If I care to, I could keep a log of my colleague's breaks. To be fair, most folks were conscientious. One Friday I stayed behind to enter marks into my register. Those tabulated results had to be submitted on Monday morning. Since scoring English papers took time, I couldn't have done it any earlier.
I was surprised to see my colleague from the Accounts Department. Office hours were eight to four, Monday to Friday. Rosyati confessed that she stayed to fill in forms from her Intern's college. No, this particular intern is no help at all. The latter was willing but very careless. Instead of assigning work to the intern and having to check line by line, the supervisor would rather leave the girl to menial tasks with lots of free time. That explained the frequent toilet visits. Well, a girl had to apply lipstick, wash hands, pat the hair blown and disarrayed by air-conditioner...
(1156) Unpaid slave
There is a young man I met here a few years ago. At that point of time he was hoping to improve his English so that he could qualify to work in New Zealand.
Considering the fact that he has English-speaking parents and he has undergone 15 years of formal education, it is surprising that he could not present himself in fluent English nor could he pass a professional English examination.
Reality is such that he ended up looking after his family enterprise in town. His parents happily left Borneo to live in the capital city across South China Sea. After all, his four other siblings all made it economically over there.
Living in a 5 room family home and driving four cars in turn does not make life attractive here. It is a good thing that he found himself a girl friend quite easily. Looking at his style of dressing and hair cut, I wonder if it was his mum or girl friend cutting his hair. It is quite possible that he does not draw any salary but lives on a stipend. One of my husband's university housemates worked for five years in his family foundry business without drawing any salary. His wife was furious with him that she applied for immigration. Eventually she pulled him to Australia.
There are many good traits and values among the Chinese. However, I must say that belonging to a business-running family means many potential pitfalls. Bad members enrich themselves but good members remain poor and dependent. It is almost like being a family unpaid slave.
Considering the fact that he has English-speaking parents and he has undergone 15 years of formal education, it is surprising that he could not present himself in fluent English nor could he pass a professional English examination.
Reality is such that he ended up looking after his family enterprise in town. His parents happily left Borneo to live in the capital city across South China Sea. After all, his four other siblings all made it economically over there.
Living in a 5 room family home and driving four cars in turn does not make life attractive here. It is a good thing that he found himself a girl friend quite easily. Looking at his style of dressing and hair cut, I wonder if it was his mum or girl friend cutting his hair. It is quite possible that he does not draw any salary but lives on a stipend. One of my husband's university housemates worked for five years in his family foundry business without drawing any salary. His wife was furious with him that she applied for immigration. Eventually she pulled him to Australia.
There are many good traits and values among the Chinese. However, I must say that belonging to a business-running family means many potential pitfalls. Bad members enrich themselves but good members remain poor and dependent. It is almost like being a family unpaid slave.
(1155) A future nurse
There is a young woman I met in Seldorado. Her parents took her out of main stream education quite early. She was sent away to board at an International School across the sea. Things did not work out, she came home to struggle on her self education online for quite a few years.
She has two other siblings who went through the Australian tertiary educational system. Most people would expect her to make it to university. It is a little surprising that she instead qualified for nursing college.
Considering the fact that she didn't get a satisfactory grade in the national language and needed to do an extra year before Form 1, I wasn't surprised that she has had great difficulty qualifying in English. Yes, I would agree that Mandarin is important for this generation. I know that Saudi Arabia introduced Chinese as a compulsory second language in the kingdom. Yet we must be realistic that not every student from Chinese Primary school would transition into English tertiary education with ease.
Personally I am surprised that her parents would put her into nursing. Even if getting an Aussie resident permit is paramount, nursing for an ethnic Chinese girl in a white country would not be exactly a bed of roses.
One of my childhood friends qualified as a nurse when her children were grown. The statistics she quoted of health, mortality, family life ... of nurses who rotated on shifts in Australia is troubling at best. She herself opted to practise as a private day shift nurse, happily foregoing the night shift allowance. As soon as she is qualified to care for the aged, she works in nursing homes specialising in weekends and holidays to maximise her income.
Call me pessimistic, but I really think this couple is tempting fate by placing their only daughter into nursing. I think of the nurses who died in Hong Kong, Singapore and Johor during the last SARS outbreak.
She has two other siblings who went through the Australian tertiary educational system. Most people would expect her to make it to university. It is a little surprising that she instead qualified for nursing college.
Considering the fact that she didn't get a satisfactory grade in the national language and needed to do an extra year before Form 1, I wasn't surprised that she has had great difficulty qualifying in English. Yes, I would agree that Mandarin is important for this generation. I know that Saudi Arabia introduced Chinese as a compulsory second language in the kingdom. Yet we must be realistic that not every student from Chinese Primary school would transition into English tertiary education with ease.
Personally I am surprised that her parents would put her into nursing. Even if getting an Aussie resident permit is paramount, nursing for an ethnic Chinese girl in a white country would not be exactly a bed of roses.
One of my childhood friends qualified as a nurse when her children were grown. The statistics she quoted of health, mortality, family life ... of nurses who rotated on shifts in Australia is troubling at best. She herself opted to practise as a private day shift nurse, happily foregoing the night shift allowance. As soon as she is qualified to care for the aged, she works in nursing homes specialising in weekends and holidays to maximise her income.
Call me pessimistic, but I really think this couple is tempting fate by placing their only daughter into nursing. I think of the nurses who died in Hong Kong, Singapore and Johor during the last SARS outbreak.
(1154) Medical camp to the interior
During the last three-day weekend I joined a medical camp visiting an interior area in the state. Vehicles that could go off road came from Kota Kinabalu, Sandakan, Lahad Datu and Tawau. Medical doctors, dentists and nurses went along to treat the village folks for free. Rich men underwritten the medicine that costs about fifteen thousand dollars. Ordinary folks like me donate and collect clean usable clothes for distribution. Drivers collect money amongst themselves and pack goodie bags for children under 12 years. People of means from various religious background donate essential food: rice, noodle, salt, cooking oil, milo, coffee powder, milk powder...
This particular trip there were not enough volunteers, so I don't see de lice cream being applied. I went along with the chief cook and all the implements for cooking were stacked behind our packed vehicle. After about five hours on the road, we stopped along a shady road and had a picnic lunch of white rice and fried fish. Some thoughtful individual from KK brought some sambal belachan - chilli paste cooked with onion, garlic, shrimp paste with seasoning. The delicious addition made a whole lot of difference to an ordinary meal.
During the first night it rained cats and dogs for hours. Some younger volunteers had to pull their sleeping bags from the open grandstands to go into suffocating tents as the rain drove out a whole host of centipedes, worms, scorpions... from the field up the wooden grand stand steps. It was scorching hot the next day. The medical team did a roaring business of over 350 registered patients. I processed the used clothing with my team mates. Mixed clothes of different age group and gender were tied into bundles of about 6 to 10 pieces depending on thickness. In the morning we distributed one bundle per family. By about two pm the visitors trickled down. We then give each person who went through the medical and dental stations one bundle each. Clothes run out by 3:20pm and the last batch who arrived in estate vehicle meant for palm oil fruits didn't get any.
On the third day I arrived home at 5:40pm totally tired out by the long journey on terrible roads of mud and stones. It was akin to being beaten all over the bones, all that being bounced over the seat restrained by seat belt did produce muscular pain.
This particular trip there were not enough volunteers, so I don't see de lice cream being applied. I went along with the chief cook and all the implements for cooking were stacked behind our packed vehicle. After about five hours on the road, we stopped along a shady road and had a picnic lunch of white rice and fried fish. Some thoughtful individual from KK brought some sambal belachan - chilli paste cooked with onion, garlic, shrimp paste with seasoning. The delicious addition made a whole lot of difference to an ordinary meal.
During the first night it rained cats and dogs for hours. Some younger volunteers had to pull their sleeping bags from the open grandstands to go into suffocating tents as the rain drove out a whole host of centipedes, worms, scorpions... from the field up the wooden grand stand steps. It was scorching hot the next day. The medical team did a roaring business of over 350 registered patients. I processed the used clothing with my team mates. Mixed clothes of different age group and gender were tied into bundles of about 6 to 10 pieces depending on thickness. In the morning we distributed one bundle per family. By about two pm the visitors trickled down. We then give each person who went through the medical and dental stations one bundle each. Clothes run out by 3:20pm and the last batch who arrived in estate vehicle meant for palm oil fruits didn't get any.
On the third day I arrived home at 5:40pm totally tired out by the long journey on terrible roads of mud and stones. It was akin to being beaten all over the bones, all that being bounced over the seat restrained by seat belt did produce muscular pain.
Sunday, September 1, 2019
(1153) Training ground
Here I am, sitting on a plastic chair in a corridor of a shop lot, enjoying the breeze from the front to the back. It is hot! As most coastal folks know, the temperature could be higher than the concrete jungle of mega cities. Yet there are little mercies of the land and the sea breeze.
There are many things to be thankful for. Firstly there is hardly any mosquitoes here. Yet in this town there were seven deaths of young men in the month of July, 2019 of Dengue Fever, mostly those living in the Dengue hot spots.
This residence is the perfect location. It is within comfortable walking distance from two supermarkets, McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Pizza Hut, Domino, Starbucks and the main road where there are many mini buses plying the route to every corner of the town.
It is a relatively safe area. I have been walking around early in the morning until my soup noodle waitress gently reminded me not to walk about before 7am.
Yet it is hard to live here long term. There is only one tap where the water could be yellow. There is no kitchen sink. Plumbing in the area is shocking. For a most expensive and desirable residence area comparable to Bangsar in Kuala Lumpur, waste water often could not go out. Those who deal with this area suspect the waste water and the sewerage fight to go out the same channel. We somehow manage to live with keeping waste water in buckets and pouring it manually out of the window into the gutter drain on the ledge.
Anyway, we are not complaining about the low rental. I suppose it is good training ground for later life in the interior area where there would be no pipe water nor grid electricity.
Thank God for cafes where I could order a drink and sit here the whole afternoon to blog.
There are many things to be thankful for. Firstly there is hardly any mosquitoes here. Yet in this town there were seven deaths of young men in the month of July, 2019 of Dengue Fever, mostly those living in the Dengue hot spots.
This residence is the perfect location. It is within comfortable walking distance from two supermarkets, McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Pizza Hut, Domino, Starbucks and the main road where there are many mini buses plying the route to every corner of the town.
It is a relatively safe area. I have been walking around early in the morning until my soup noodle waitress gently reminded me not to walk about before 7am.
Yet it is hard to live here long term. There is only one tap where the water could be yellow. There is no kitchen sink. Plumbing in the area is shocking. For a most expensive and desirable residence area comparable to Bangsar in Kuala Lumpur, waste water often could not go out. Those who deal with this area suspect the waste water and the sewerage fight to go out the same channel. We somehow manage to live with keeping waste water in buckets and pouring it manually out of the window into the gutter drain on the ledge.
Anyway, we are not complaining about the low rental. I suppose it is good training ground for later life in the interior area where there would be no pipe water nor grid electricity.
Thank God for cafes where I could order a drink and sit here the whole afternoon to blog.
(1152) Money Laundering
A shop was being renovated. Day by day the noise level escalated. Lo and behold, the workers were making tables by hand from scratch. Some metallic lengths were being cut to exacting lengths and welded together to form the frames of tables. Then these frames were painted black. After that a piece of wooden board was fixed as table top. Last of all a zinc sheet was hammered to cover the top and the sides. There were at least five tables at first. In my heart, I was guessing: tutoring place? Eatery? Massage place? Charity feeding station?
A local dropped by and told my son that the shop was being let at $1,800 monthly rental. It is to be a restaurant with private rooms. The owner of the building suspected that the source of the capital is black money. The party concerned looked at the empty shop one day, then the next day the necessary two plus one deposit was handed to the landlord. It was no mean sum: 3x1800 plus electricity and water deposits. It was the speed that surprised the landlord. The exact amount came as cash before 12pm.
The locals believe that various people who have more cash than good for them were afraid of being caught red-handed. Hence the hurry to convert the cash into an enterprise. Why not purchase furniture? No, the business person has to avoid the paper trail. Renovators are not above receiving x amount as fee but give a bill of x-y dollars.
It will be interesting to note how a genuine business differs from a fake business. Along the same row there is a Malay eatery that works 6 and a half day. Not too far away there is a Chinese sea food restaurant that rests only on Mondays.
Long ago when my children were still young, we lived in Silver City. We used to patronise a bakery which supplied us with delicious buns at reasonable prices. Somehow it seemed like a fake business. It was a place of high rental returns. The bakery sells a low volume of limited range of products. It rests on all Wednesdays and every public holidays. Surprisingly it is still there today, 14 years after we left town.
******************************
2.9.2019
update
It turned out the business is more like a catering establishment. Sometimes they take off and rest on no definite days. Other times I see full activity after the usual closing time. Once I saw a young man opening the shop at 6:15am. Most of the helpers are in their teens. Sometimes when the chefs turned up, I saw toddlers and young children running about. From a safety point of view, it is almost criminal to allow children to run among boiling pots and plenty of fire whether from gas stoves or open charcoal barbeque stand.
No wonder a friend of mine who worked in the government hospital talked about three-year olds who swallowed insecticide, then the next year his sister came in with an over dose of multi vitamins. Two years later another younger sibling from the same family came with water burns that required skin grafting. Part of the trouble is the culture encouraged unlimited children. Should children die because of crime, drowning, accident or being kidnapped, the parents cried, accepted it fatalistically as God's will and move on to have a few more kids.
A local dropped by and told my son that the shop was being let at $1,800 monthly rental. It is to be a restaurant with private rooms. The owner of the building suspected that the source of the capital is black money. The party concerned looked at the empty shop one day, then the next day the necessary two plus one deposit was handed to the landlord. It was no mean sum: 3x1800 plus electricity and water deposits. It was the speed that surprised the landlord. The exact amount came as cash before 12pm.
The locals believe that various people who have more cash than good for them were afraid of being caught red-handed. Hence the hurry to convert the cash into an enterprise. Why not purchase furniture? No, the business person has to avoid the paper trail. Renovators are not above receiving x amount as fee but give a bill of x-y dollars.
It will be interesting to note how a genuine business differs from a fake business. Along the same row there is a Malay eatery that works 6 and a half day. Not too far away there is a Chinese sea food restaurant that rests only on Mondays.
Long ago when my children were still young, we lived in Silver City. We used to patronise a bakery which supplied us with delicious buns at reasonable prices. Somehow it seemed like a fake business. It was a place of high rental returns. The bakery sells a low volume of limited range of products. It rests on all Wednesdays and every public holidays. Surprisingly it is still there today, 14 years after we left town.
******************************
2.9.2019
update
It turned out the business is more like a catering establishment. Sometimes they take off and rest on no definite days. Other times I see full activity after the usual closing time. Once I saw a young man opening the shop at 6:15am. Most of the helpers are in their teens. Sometimes when the chefs turned up, I saw toddlers and young children running about. From a safety point of view, it is almost criminal to allow children to run among boiling pots and plenty of fire whether from gas stoves or open charcoal barbeque stand.
No wonder a friend of mine who worked in the government hospital talked about three-year olds who swallowed insecticide, then the next year his sister came in with an over dose of multi vitamins. Two years later another younger sibling from the same family came with water burns that required skin grafting. Part of the trouble is the culture encouraged unlimited children. Should children die because of crime, drowning, accident or being kidnapped, the parents cried, accepted it fatalistically as God's will and move on to have a few more kids.
(1151) Lightning steriliser
A second cousin of mine worked in China as a surgeon. One day, his colleague challenged him to help sterilise a house cat. After all, he was very used to sterilising thousands of women during those early years of one child policy.
Being young and resourceful, he brought the right tool to his colleague's house. It was the first time he visited the house. He walked casually into the sitting room and sized up the pet cat. it was a male. While his colleague fed the cat, my cousin the "lightning steriliser" used his sharp tool and cut the testis off cleanly. The cat yowled and ran out of the house. Later the cat owner found that there was no blood and the wound healed beautifully.
My niece found the story barbaric. But well, all parties won. The owner saved money. The surgeon who turned vet gained a good reputation. The cat could roam anywhere but no longer cause any more unwanted kittens to be born. Any lady cat who gets to know it well no longer would get pregnant. Not a bad situation at all.
Being young and resourceful, he brought the right tool to his colleague's house. It was the first time he visited the house. He walked casually into the sitting room and sized up the pet cat. it was a male. While his colleague fed the cat, my cousin the "lightning steriliser" used his sharp tool and cut the testis off cleanly. The cat yowled and ran out of the house. Later the cat owner found that there was no blood and the wound healed beautifully.
My niece found the story barbaric. But well, all parties won. The owner saved money. The surgeon who turned vet gained a good reputation. The cat could roam anywhere but no longer cause any more unwanted kittens to be born. Any lady cat who gets to know it well no longer would get pregnant. Not a bad situation at all.
(1152) A novel way of doing business
One day long ago I went to listen to a Korean talk to oblige a friend of mine.
First I have to tell you a few things about my unique friend. She was a widow, age 72, who lived with her sister in a single storey house opposite a private hospital. She and her sister survived on $100 every month. Her electric, water and phone bill was paid by her son. Her daughter gives her one hundred dollars each month. Her sister was not quite right in her mind, having came out of the lunatic asylum a few years before I met the widow.
I still remember the talk, it was to tell about the efficacy of some stomach medicine. I have a very normal stomach, obviously I don't need a small bottle of liquid that was made up of 17 vegetables and fruits fermented underground for three years. Each of the 330 ml bottle costs $375. But of course the Korean business man gives out a very nice looking colander to each participant. I think I still have the purple plastic colander in my kitchen somewhere. According to my friend the widow, the previous week a sack of 1 kg rice was dispensed to each guest.
My friend the widow has been following each talk for almost three years. Each month there was a talk promoting one item. Each of the item was highly priced. There is a money back guarantee if the purchaser is not happy with the product.
That particular talk, I stayed behind to see if any one would buy the item being promoted. There was a middle age lady who walked up and purchased three bottles. Apparently she bought the exact item two years ago, but from a different centre, and it took care of her life-long problem of indigestion and wind. This round she had been waiting for 18 months until this product came round again. One bottle was for her God daughter who lived in Pahang, the second bottle was for her daughter-in-law who lived next door to her, then the third bottle was for her uncle who lived in Johor.
My friend, the widow, bought a pillow that cost $2,000. The funny thing is that she was very pleased with her purchase. She said that the infra-red treated pillow made of some exotic material cured her 20 year long problem of neck and shoulder ache. With the magic pillow, she finally could get her uninterrupted 8 hour nightly sleep. It was like giving her a second stint of youth. She felt like she was in her 40s again.
I found it most interesting and informative.
First I have to tell you a few things about my unique friend. She was a widow, age 72, who lived with her sister in a single storey house opposite a private hospital. She and her sister survived on $100 every month. Her electric, water and phone bill was paid by her son. Her daughter gives her one hundred dollars each month. Her sister was not quite right in her mind, having came out of the lunatic asylum a few years before I met the widow.
I still remember the talk, it was to tell about the efficacy of some stomach medicine. I have a very normal stomach, obviously I don't need a small bottle of liquid that was made up of 17 vegetables and fruits fermented underground for three years. Each of the 330 ml bottle costs $375. But of course the Korean business man gives out a very nice looking colander to each participant. I think I still have the purple plastic colander in my kitchen somewhere. According to my friend the widow, the previous week a sack of 1 kg rice was dispensed to each guest.
My friend the widow has been following each talk for almost three years. Each month there was a talk promoting one item. Each of the item was highly priced. There is a money back guarantee if the purchaser is not happy with the product.
That particular talk, I stayed behind to see if any one would buy the item being promoted. There was a middle age lady who walked up and purchased three bottles. Apparently she bought the exact item two years ago, but from a different centre, and it took care of her life-long problem of indigestion and wind. This round she had been waiting for 18 months until this product came round again. One bottle was for her God daughter who lived in Pahang, the second bottle was for her daughter-in-law who lived next door to her, then the third bottle was for her uncle who lived in Johor.
My friend, the widow, bought a pillow that cost $2,000. The funny thing is that she was very pleased with her purchase. She said that the infra-red treated pillow made of some exotic material cured her 20 year long problem of neck and shoulder ache. With the magic pillow, she finally could get her uninterrupted 8 hour nightly sleep. It was like giving her a second stint of youth. She felt like she was in her 40s again.
I found it most interesting and informative.
(1150) Against all odd
Five years ago I met Heidi through a contact. Off and on my son and I have been meeting her since.
She went through a very traumatic childhood. She was mildly dyslexic. Up until Standard Five she used to fail most subjects. Yet she is sharp and intelligent in other ways. Her parents noticed that she could memorise every song on the radio if it was played often. To prepare for her Primary exam, the persistent and wise mum read every page of her text books aloud to her. Since questions were in the
multiple choice objective form, she somehow managed to score 5 As. To me, that means she could recognise the shapes of many words. Never mind the fact that she could hardly read and could not spell.
She belongs to a minority race. There are only thirteen professionals of her ethnic background practising in the state of Sarawak. She is THE FIRST WOMAN FROM HER TRIBE to own a firm in her hometown. I was very impressed. It must have been a difficult and tedious path to breach
an invisible barrier in a back water area.
To reach her present mile stone, she had been on training in multiple places and God had been stretching her since she qualified. She practised for many years in the capital city of the country. After that she returned to the capital of Sarawak, not of her own choice. But she managed to have 15 happy years there. Then, out of the blue, she was left with no choice but to relocate to her home town - a place that she has decided not to return to since she has left it. She cried, she pleaded with her heavenly father. But to no avail. It was a non-negotiable. It was a place of her most horrific nightmare. She had not only unhappy years but to add salt to the wounds, she was systematically bullied in the school system. When I first met her, she was very thin - steadily losing weight. It was within the first three years she returned to her least desirable place on earth. This is the 5th year since we knew each other. Finally I saw her in her element and the tinge of deep sadness is gone. It must have been difficult. Yet she needed to face her demons and to gain a full victory from her dark past.
She went through a very traumatic childhood. She was mildly dyslexic. Up until Standard Five she used to fail most subjects. Yet she is sharp and intelligent in other ways. Her parents noticed that she could memorise every song on the radio if it was played often. To prepare for her Primary exam, the persistent and wise mum read every page of her text books aloud to her. Since questions were in the
multiple choice objective form, she somehow managed to score 5 As. To me, that means she could recognise the shapes of many words. Never mind the fact that she could hardly read and could not spell.
She belongs to a minority race. There are only thirteen professionals of her ethnic background practising in the state of Sarawak. She is THE FIRST WOMAN FROM HER TRIBE to own a firm in her hometown. I was very impressed. It must have been a difficult and tedious path to breach
an invisible barrier in a back water area.
To reach her present mile stone, she had been on training in multiple places and God had been stretching her since she qualified. She practised for many years in the capital city of the country. After that she returned to the capital of Sarawak, not of her own choice. But she managed to have 15 happy years there. Then, out of the blue, she was left with no choice but to relocate to her home town - a place that she has decided not to return to since she has left it. She cried, she pleaded with her heavenly father. But to no avail. It was a non-negotiable. It was a place of her most horrific nightmare. She had not only unhappy years but to add salt to the wounds, she was systematically bullied in the school system. When I first met her, she was very thin - steadily losing weight. It was within the first three years she returned to her least desirable place on earth. This is the 5th year since we knew each other. Finally I saw her in her element and the tinge of deep sadness is gone. It must have been difficult. Yet she needed to face her demons and to gain a full victory from her dark past.
(1149) Good Servant but poor master
A few months back I met the Voons, in our conversation we touched on Sylvia who is our common friend in Silver City. After my family left Silver City, Sylvia's three sisters passed on. After all, it has been fourteen years or so. Apparently only Hattie was buried according to the instructions in her will. The remaining two left no will. Sylvia took charge and had each of them cremated. The ashes were placed in separate urns. The urns were left behind a coffin shop in Pasir Putih. Nephews and nieces queried but Sylvia refused to release any money to buy niches to place the urns. She said that when she passes on, it is written in her will to buy three niches side by side. She wanted her two sisters to be on her left and her right.
When I heard that, I was shocked. Imagine having urns that could be opened placed on public land totally open to the elements! Any naughty children could tip the ashes out of the urns as a game. Or anyone could get rid of the ashes and resell the urns. Sylvia is a very rich woman, she receives two pensions from Australia. Her fixed deposit accounts in the bank in total exceeds three million dollars ten years ago. But I guess no amount of money is sufficient if money is her sole security. She wants just a little more each day. The house she lives in was left to her and her three sisters by their parents. Sylvia refused to move out because she wants to outlive her sisters and be the sole person to inherit the house. Now that she finally has it all to herself, she dared not live in it alone. She hired
an Indonesian maid and at night the house has all its electrical lights on. Sylvia is childless.
We wonder if her millions would eventually go to her nieces, nephews, the lawyer or the maid. Money is a good servant but a poor master. The love of money leads to evil. In this case it leads to an eccentric life style. A very rich woman who lives like a pauper yet she becomes richer by the minute.
When I heard that, I was shocked. Imagine having urns that could be opened placed on public land totally open to the elements! Any naughty children could tip the ashes out of the urns as a game. Or anyone could get rid of the ashes and resell the urns. Sylvia is a very rich woman, she receives two pensions from Australia. Her fixed deposit accounts in the bank in total exceeds three million dollars ten years ago. But I guess no amount of money is sufficient if money is her sole security. She wants just a little more each day. The house she lives in was left to her and her three sisters by their parents. Sylvia refused to move out because she wants to outlive her sisters and be the sole person to inherit the house. Now that she finally has it all to herself, she dared not live in it alone. She hired
an Indonesian maid and at night the house has all its electrical lights on. Sylvia is childless.
We wonder if her millions would eventually go to her nieces, nephews, the lawyer or the maid. Money is a good servant but a poor master. The love of money leads to evil. In this case it leads to an eccentric life style. A very rich woman who lives like a pauper yet she becomes richer by the minute.
(1148) Hazardous job
In this town, rubbish collection is centralised. There is one or two collection points in one housing estate, depending on the size of the area.
When I first moved here, I was pleased that the point is within walking distance from my residence. For the first week, I would wake up at 6:10 am and would get outdoor by 6:30 am. It is natural to throw the rubbish before I get my breakfast. I did that until the soup noodle waitress told me gently and tactfully that nobody in this town would visit the rubbish collection point that early.
Well, I stopped leaving that early. It is not because I have any fears of my safety walking around before the sun rays hit my skin. I figure: when in Rome, do as the Romans. From all my early walks, I have only met folks walking to the bus stop on the main road. There were maids sharing a heavy load to tip out at the dumpster. Once there were two native boys, tidily dressed with packed lunch and bottles of drinking water, going to work at some manual labour. Of course every morning I see the sweepers in fluorescent uniforms who were busy sweeping.
What really shocked me was an entire family, from wiry father in his twenties, to pregnant mother in her late teens and teenage pretty girl in her head scarf, to children of different ages and sexes were grubbing at the dump site. I presumed they live at the single room beside the car wash facility - I counted eight of them.
My son told me those are the undocumented aliens. The only way they could earn their daily bread was to collect and sell the recyclable rescued from the dumpsters. I asked how come there is no one above 35 years old. He said the content of the batteries or other high tech stuff probably killed those who habitually handle such toxic things without gloves, barrier overalls or face/nose masks.
I mulled on what I heard and seen. For now, I segregate the recyclables from garbage-a small step to assist the task of recycling.
When I first moved here, I was pleased that the point is within walking distance from my residence. For the first week, I would wake up at 6:10 am and would get outdoor by 6:30 am. It is natural to throw the rubbish before I get my breakfast. I did that until the soup noodle waitress told me gently and tactfully that nobody in this town would visit the rubbish collection point that early.
Well, I stopped leaving that early. It is not because I have any fears of my safety walking around before the sun rays hit my skin. I figure: when in Rome, do as the Romans. From all my early walks, I have only met folks walking to the bus stop on the main road. There were maids sharing a heavy load to tip out at the dumpster. Once there were two native boys, tidily dressed with packed lunch and bottles of drinking water, going to work at some manual labour. Of course every morning I see the sweepers in fluorescent uniforms who were busy sweeping.
What really shocked me was an entire family, from wiry father in his twenties, to pregnant mother in her late teens and teenage pretty girl in her head scarf, to children of different ages and sexes were grubbing at the dump site. I presumed they live at the single room beside the car wash facility - I counted eight of them.
My son told me those are the undocumented aliens. The only way they could earn their daily bread was to collect and sell the recyclable rescued from the dumpsters. I asked how come there is no one above 35 years old. He said the content of the batteries or other high tech stuff probably killed those who habitually handle such toxic things without gloves, barrier overalls or face/nose masks.
I mulled on what I heard and seen. For now, I segregate the recyclables from garbage-a small step to assist the task of recycling.
(1147) The Marble Collector by Cecelia Ahern
This is a delightful tale told in a breath-taking manner. When my brothers were young, I remember at least two marble seasons. We were poor then. The boys in the neighbourhood played with clay marbles. There were no tar roads in the housing estate during that era. We lived in one unit among the rows of tiny wooden houses built on land owned by one individual. My grandma used to pay $3 per month to the landlord. When my father bought a brick house, my grandma sold the wooden house for $3,000, she signed the sale and purchase document with an X in front of a local Justice of Peace with the lawyer and the purchaser in attendance.
Those houses were condemned and taken down years ago. A few years after 1969(the year my family moved away), most of our old neighbours moved out after us too. The area then became a place for housing foreign workers.
I have not visited my childhood haunt for years. The only landmark remaining is my first Primary school. Along the Old Klang Road, 4 1/2 Mile is almost the mid point between Kuala Lumpur and Petaling Jaya. Folks value the location for its proximity to the two cities.
Those houses were condemned and taken down years ago. A few years after 1969(the year my family moved away), most of our old neighbours moved out after us too. The area then became a place for housing foreign workers.
I have not visited my childhood haunt for years. The only landmark remaining is my first Primary school. Along the Old Klang Road, 4 1/2 Mile is almost the mid point between Kuala Lumpur and Petaling Jaya. Folks value the location for its proximity to the two cities.
(1146) Glue sniffers
One day I walked past a pizza joint and saw five tweens and teens crashed higgledy-piggledy on slabs of carton pieces along the side walk on the shaded side away from the elements.
It was a school day. All of them, judging on their heights and sizes, should be in school. No, those are not illegal immigrants. They are not even documented workers' children. Apparently each one has a home somewhere. There are fathers and mothers. At night they go home. It was only between 8am to 5pm that they sleep along the side walks of commercial areas.
My land lady said that those throwaway kids have been sniffing glue for many years. They were stunted, some could be as old as past their twenties but look like twelve year olds. Poor diets, damaged brain cells, compromised respiratory systems by toxic fumes prevented them from growing to their full potential sizes.
Strangely, each one of the five were well dressed. Perhaps a little scruffy due to the lack of hygiene amenities. One small (about nine years old by size) boy has his hair dyed blond.
As far as I could see without staring, they were all boys. Assuming those I talked to were right, these are local children - perhaps they are of Malay parentage or are native descended. They are too fair to be Indians or Africans, yet too dark to be Chinese or even Kadazans. If they are locals, then they have identity cards. Even if they missed the academic trains in schools, they could work legally. For basic, low wage jobs, it is an employees' market. Business owners find it very difficult to get workers with documents. Jobs go begging for takers.
Perhaps it is easier to beg for fifty cents here and a dollar there. Or with the tiny bodies, it is possible to squeeze into business buildings or homes to steal computers and flat screen TVs.
It was a school day. All of them, judging on their heights and sizes, should be in school. No, those are not illegal immigrants. They are not even documented workers' children. Apparently each one has a home somewhere. There are fathers and mothers. At night they go home. It was only between 8am to 5pm that they sleep along the side walks of commercial areas.
My land lady said that those throwaway kids have been sniffing glue for many years. They were stunted, some could be as old as past their twenties but look like twelve year olds. Poor diets, damaged brain cells, compromised respiratory systems by toxic fumes prevented them from growing to their full potential sizes.
Strangely, each one of the five were well dressed. Perhaps a little scruffy due to the lack of hygiene amenities. One small (about nine years old by size) boy has his hair dyed blond.
As far as I could see without staring, they were all boys. Assuming those I talked to were right, these are local children - perhaps they are of Malay parentage or are native descended. They are too fair to be Indians or Africans, yet too dark to be Chinese or even Kadazans. If they are locals, then they have identity cards. Even if they missed the academic trains in schools, they could work legally. For basic, low wage jobs, it is an employees' market. Business owners find it very difficult to get workers with documents. Jobs go begging for takers.
Perhaps it is easier to beg for fifty cents here and a dollar there. Or with the tiny bodies, it is possible to squeeze into business buildings or homes to steal computers and flat screen TVs.
Saturday, August 31, 2019
(1145) Being vegetarian
I sat down with my dinner at a church pot bless. At the periphery of my sightline, I saw Elsa walking around the two tables laden with at least twenty variety of dishes. She was holding a plate filled with two scoops of white rice.
Elsa's mum is a vegetarian. Her dad practises a see-food-eat-food diet. Elsa is short and slight for her age. She could probably help herself to the food stuff at the side of the big rectangular buffet tables. Definitely she could not reach what were placed in the inner reaches of the long and wide space.
Interestingly no one walk up to help her. I did think about rising to offer some help but she disappeared from the serving area momentarily. Shortly after that some one sat down next to me and we started an interesting conversation.
Personally I don't eat chicken. Neither do I cook chicken dishes. Yet my husband and children would eat their favourite fried chicken or curry chicken I bought for dinner at home now and then.
Of course the dynamix of each family is different. Elsa's mum observes a restricted dietary list. The son and the father are easy going and eat any food within sight. For Elsa, it was sad. She refused to eat what was served and would prefer to go hungry than give in.
I often wonder how my Chinese vegetarian friends train their children not to eat meat outside of home. One of my primary school classmates was born a Taoist but turned into a strict vegetarian Buddhist with the faith of a Taiwanese sect at the age of 21. Her husband joined her in terms of both religion and dietary practises after marriage. Her son never eat meat of any kind and he has been residing in New Zealand since age 12. He is past 30 years old now and is the dad of a 3 year old daughter. His wife is a vegetarian too.
Elsa's mum is a vegetarian. Her dad practises a see-food-eat-food diet. Elsa is short and slight for her age. She could probably help herself to the food stuff at the side of the big rectangular buffet tables. Definitely she could not reach what were placed in the inner reaches of the long and wide space.
Interestingly no one walk up to help her. I did think about rising to offer some help but she disappeared from the serving area momentarily. Shortly after that some one sat down next to me and we started an interesting conversation.
Personally I don't eat chicken. Neither do I cook chicken dishes. Yet my husband and children would eat their favourite fried chicken or curry chicken I bought for dinner at home now and then.
Of course the dynamix of each family is different. Elsa's mum observes a restricted dietary list. The son and the father are easy going and eat any food within sight. For Elsa, it was sad. She refused to eat what was served and would prefer to go hungry than give in.
I often wonder how my Chinese vegetarian friends train their children not to eat meat outside of home. One of my primary school classmates was born a Taoist but turned into a strict vegetarian Buddhist with the faith of a Taiwanese sect at the age of 21. Her husband joined her in terms of both religion and dietary practises after marriage. Her son never eat meat of any kind and he has been residing in New Zealand since age 12. He is past 30 years old now and is the dad of a 3 year old daughter. His wife is a vegetarian too.
Thursday, August 29, 2019
(1144) Missed the train
This is the third week my son and I attempt to teach a 16 year old young man English using the hearing route.
We borrow junior books from the library. At first I read and the student listens. If he does not ask any question, I then proceed to ask questions in Chinese or Malay. If he could answer them correctly then I know he understands at that reading level using the audio mode.
With suggestion from my son who has taught him for two years, I moved from nursery books to kindergarten level material. Slowly the books could be gauged to be Standard 3 in a Chinese school. Next I moved on to subject books like science and cartoon drawing manuals. Our student is artistic and could sketch quite well. Here we look at the pictures and talk about them in English.
During these three weeks of experimentation, I have established that he actually look at the shape of words, not the spelling. Hence for him, the look say method may work. I have been here about eight weeks. It took many weeks to gain trust. Apparently he was beaten badly by an ex-headmistress who tutored him for quite a few years before he came to be taught by my son. On the first day he saw me, he wanted to leave, two brothers who knew me from 5 years ago reassured him I don't punish people physically. He was still suspicious and asked if I was a friend of teacher Susan. Of course I wasn't, I am not a local person. He certainly went through trauma for his early years of education.
Bearing in mind I personally have no training, no talent to teach reading like this, everyday I pray about lessons and teaching methodology. Three days ago I kept having the impression of "conversations". I dug out a TOEFL listening script, my son and I chose a 2 minute conversation on him. It worked. Though he never attempted to speak anything more than one or two words in English at one time, he actually understood about 70% of the simulated conversation.
We borrow junior books from the library. At first I read and the student listens. If he does not ask any question, I then proceed to ask questions in Chinese or Malay. If he could answer them correctly then I know he understands at that reading level using the audio mode.
With suggestion from my son who has taught him for two years, I moved from nursery books to kindergarten level material. Slowly the books could be gauged to be Standard 3 in a Chinese school. Next I moved on to subject books like science and cartoon drawing manuals. Our student is artistic and could sketch quite well. Here we look at the pictures and talk about them in English.
During these three weeks of experimentation, I have established that he actually look at the shape of words, not the spelling. Hence for him, the look say method may work. I have been here about eight weeks. It took many weeks to gain trust. Apparently he was beaten badly by an ex-headmistress who tutored him for quite a few years before he came to be taught by my son. On the first day he saw me, he wanted to leave, two brothers who knew me from 5 years ago reassured him I don't punish people physically. He was still suspicious and asked if I was a friend of teacher Susan. Of course I wasn't, I am not a local person. He certainly went through trauma for his early years of education.
Bearing in mind I personally have no training, no talent to teach reading like this, everyday I pray about lessons and teaching methodology. Three days ago I kept having the impression of "conversations". I dug out a TOEFL listening script, my son and I chose a 2 minute conversation on him. It worked. Though he never attempted to speak anything more than one or two words in English at one time, he actually understood about 70% of the simulated conversation.
(1143) An Amazing Answer
At the end of this period, I received orders to return to my hometown. I packed and got rid of many items to fit the remaining household into two small rooms for my son. Return I did to a series of appointments and lengthy hospitalisation. I almost died with a skeletal 84 pounds but somehow it was not time to go yet. Almost two years to the day I was discharged from the hospital, I flew back to Seldorado because of a confirmation release of Malaysian $3,407. I prayed specifically for x amount of money and tell God that I would fly to join my son for a specific period of time. The condition is that the sum was to come from a totally unexpected source with no strings attached.
It was during my 2 years of absence that the object of this blog, my now 14 year old target of prayer, progressed from failing to the top class. According to my son, there are four classes, A, B, C and D. The student was in D class for Remove class (an extra year for Chinese Primary students who switched over to Malay Secondary School). By Form 2 he was in A class. I was utterly amazed that he was getting 78% for English and 81% for Maths during the last test. After learning Maths for 6 years in Chinese, he has to switch to learning Maths in Malay. I attribute the spectacular improvement because God answers prayers.
Now that I am back in Seldorado, my new targets for prayers are two biracial boys of 15 and 16 years old. Neither of them seem to be able to do automatic reading in Chinese, English and Malay. I doubt if either could pass any subjective test in any of the three languages at Grade 3 level. As the holy spirit whispers, I am attempting to lead them to read English in un orthodox ways. May God bless and multiply my efforts.
It was during my 2 years of absence that the object of this blog, my now 14 year old target of prayer, progressed from failing to the top class. According to my son, there are four classes, A, B, C and D. The student was in D class for Remove class (an extra year for Chinese Primary students who switched over to Malay Secondary School). By Form 2 he was in A class. I was utterly amazed that he was getting 78% for English and 81% for Maths during the last test. After learning Maths for 6 years in Chinese, he has to switch to learning Maths in Malay. I attribute the spectacular improvement because God answers prayers.
Now that I am back in Seldorado, my new targets for prayers are two biracial boys of 15 and 16 years old. Neither of them seem to be able to do automatic reading in Chinese, English and Malay. I doubt if either could pass any subjective test in any of the three languages at Grade 3 level. As the holy spirit whispers, I am attempting to lead them to read English in un orthodox ways. May God bless and multiply my efforts.
Monday, August 26, 2019
(1142) Suicidal boy
Five years ago I came to Seldorado with my son, he undertook a tuition group of six out of which there is a suicidal 11 year old boy. Suffice to say the great challenge is the "I want to die!" preteen who would vomit out of fright because a dragon dance troupe was practising within ear range. It is made of loud booms of drums and shrill cymbal clangs.
I worked out of my repertoire of twelve years of experience of teaching many types of mildly or severely challenged children. None of any methods I know worked with the 11 year old. He is fair skin, somewhat good looking in a Chinese way. When there was no loud noise, his heart would beat normally and he would pour out his grievances of being punished in school for untidy handwriting. Yes, I myself have written many pages of "I must write beautiful scripts" for various Chinese and English Grade School mistresses. At this stage of my life, most writing is done by computer and smart phone, it no longer mattered that I had a mild dash of dyspraxia(which is part of the symptoms of dyslexia).
An old lady who was a prayer warrior in my church heard my concerns and suggested that I spend serious time praying for these students in tongues weekly. That I did for slightly more than one year two months. On every Tuesday, from 5 to 7 am I would dutifully pray that every one of my son's students would live out the perfect will of God's plans for them. At 7:01 I would proceed downstairs to answer the hungry calls of my pet chickens in my 22x60 square feet backyard. I would cut the grass manually until the sun was too hot for outdoor activity.
To be continued ...
I worked out of my repertoire of twelve years of experience of teaching many types of mildly or severely challenged children. None of any methods I know worked with the 11 year old. He is fair skin, somewhat good looking in a Chinese way. When there was no loud noise, his heart would beat normally and he would pour out his grievances of being punished in school for untidy handwriting. Yes, I myself have written many pages of "I must write beautiful scripts" for various Chinese and English Grade School mistresses. At this stage of my life, most writing is done by computer and smart phone, it no longer mattered that I had a mild dash of dyspraxia(which is part of the symptoms of dyslexia).
An old lady who was a prayer warrior in my church heard my concerns and suggested that I spend serious time praying for these students in tongues weekly. That I did for slightly more than one year two months. On every Tuesday, from 5 to 7 am I would dutifully pray that every one of my son's students would live out the perfect will of God's plans for them. At 7:01 I would proceed downstairs to answer the hungry calls of my pet chickens in my 22x60 square feet backyard. I would cut the grass manually until the sun was too hot for outdoor activity.
To be continued ...
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
(1141) Chicken Haven
About twenty years after the experience of rearing chickens in Silver City, my son and I found ourselves a few hundred miles away in a big island in the town of Seldorado. We bought a few chicks available that are flown in from some city weekly, and we proceeded to rear chickens again. After two and a half years, we gathered eight hens who lay more than enough eggs for personal consumption. We would sell individual egg for $1.50 to church friends. But one month before either of us fly back to the Klang valley, we would save all the eggs to be hand carried back in the plane.
Then suddenly, my marching order arrived and I was to return to the home town. Within a month I gave away lots of stuff I accumulated over some twenty months. The hardest thing to part with were my healthy and good looking egg layers. Most of them were laying one egg per day. I prayed and told God I didn't know what to do with the hens, it would be such a pity to kill them. Three of them just started laying a week ago. There were to be about a productive two year period of egg laying. The following Sunday the quiet holy spirit whispered, " Go ask the lady who make tea if she keeps chickens." I was too shy and scared to ask, the moment passed.
The following week I turned up earlier in church and met that lady face to face in front of the kitchen. This time I drew enough courage and told her I have chickens to give away as I was leaving town. My son was going to move to the second floor of a shop lot and he could not keep pets. The next day we caught the chickens and kept them in rabbit cages and loaded three cages of 8 chickens in the back of our truck. We found that our new friend squat on the hilly slope of Trick Hills. They live in two small cottages on two levels of the 30 degrees slope. Their native black chickens live in "apartments": each hen has a room with one window and one door each. There were like twelve units on three floors. At a glance we know that any one of our fat chickens could not fit into any of the units.
Later we heard that the husband of our new friend is a carpenter. He was so tickled with the big fat hens that he used old lumber to build the eight hens a detached house coop. He placed the coop strategically to block the big hole in his old fence. I gave one condition before handing over the hens: the new owners should not kill any of the animals until it stopped laying eggs. As each of the chickens was given a name by Elizabeth, they should be allowed to live as long as they are productive layers. That was almost three years ago.
Last Sunday I met my friend and heard that there is one chicken left, it still is laying eggs. It warmed my heart that my God cared not only for me, He cared enough for my chickens to find them owners who would take care of them and let them live out their happy lives.
Then suddenly, my marching order arrived and I was to return to the home town. Within a month I gave away lots of stuff I accumulated over some twenty months. The hardest thing to part with were my healthy and good looking egg layers. Most of them were laying one egg per day. I prayed and told God I didn't know what to do with the hens, it would be such a pity to kill them. Three of them just started laying a week ago. There were to be about a productive two year period of egg laying. The following Sunday the quiet holy spirit whispered, " Go ask the lady who make tea if she keeps chickens." I was too shy and scared to ask, the moment passed.
The following week I turned up earlier in church and met that lady face to face in front of the kitchen. This time I drew enough courage and told her I have chickens to give away as I was leaving town. My son was going to move to the second floor of a shop lot and he could not keep pets. The next day we caught the chickens and kept them in rabbit cages and loaded three cages of 8 chickens in the back of our truck. We found that our new friend squat on the hilly slope of Trick Hills. They live in two small cottages on two levels of the 30 degrees slope. Their native black chickens live in "apartments": each hen has a room with one window and one door each. There were like twelve units on three floors. At a glance we know that any one of our fat chickens could not fit into any of the units.
Later we heard that the husband of our new friend is a carpenter. He was so tickled with the big fat hens that he used old lumber to build the eight hens a detached house coop. He placed the coop strategically to block the big hole in his old fence. I gave one condition before handing over the hens: the new owners should not kill any of the animals until it stopped laying eggs. As each of the chickens was given a name by Elizabeth, they should be allowed to live as long as they are productive layers. That was almost three years ago.
Last Sunday I met my friend and heard that there is one chicken left, it still is laying eggs. It warmed my heart that my God cared not only for me, He cared enough for my chickens to find them owners who would take care of them and let them live out their happy lives.
(1140) Gender of chicks
Hatching was a thin and bad-tempered female chicken. My family became its owner when we moved into a semi-detached house in Silver City. Around that time I befriended an old retired lady teacher whom I called Mrs Lee. She sold me fertilised eggs at $1.20 each. I bought six and Hatching jealously guarded her adopted eggs and hatched them day and night.
It was funny that Hatching insisted on hatching her eggs in the garden under the noni tree. I attempted to move those eggs to a sheltered spot in the porch but she refused to co-operate. My fingers and toes were pecked many a time in those attempts. As it rained often in Silver City towards the end of the year, only two eggs hatched 21 days later.
The two chicks were drop-dead cute. One is mostly white with yellow spots. The other is a dull brown with a few black spots. Kenneth wanted the white chick but Elizabeth won the right playing one-two-som. Using their right hands, players could choose to be scissors, rock or paper. Should scissors meet paper, scissors would win. If rock meets scissors, then rock wins. When paper meets rock, then paper wins. The white chick was named snow white. Elizabeth dreamed about the many eggs to come out of snow white. She eats two half boiled eggs every morning. Three months later, we slowly realized that snow white was not a female.
Since we then lived within the city limits, actually we were not supposed to have chickens in our garden. But since the neighbours were so very agreeable and did not complain, we do not keep the loud cocks. Accordingly snow white at first crow was given to our right hand neighbour to slaughter. You see, there are many privileges of tolerating eccentric neighbours keeping chickens. I seemed to remember a few pieces of choice meat came back as curry chicken. Only my husband who usually ignored the chickens had the heart to eat those chicken pieces.
It was funny that Hatching insisted on hatching her eggs in the garden under the noni tree. I attempted to move those eggs to a sheltered spot in the porch but she refused to co-operate. My fingers and toes were pecked many a time in those attempts. As it rained often in Silver City towards the end of the year, only two eggs hatched 21 days later.
The two chicks were drop-dead cute. One is mostly white with yellow spots. The other is a dull brown with a few black spots. Kenneth wanted the white chick but Elizabeth won the right playing one-two-som. Using their right hands, players could choose to be scissors, rock or paper. Should scissors meet paper, scissors would win. If rock meets scissors, then rock wins. When paper meets rock, then paper wins. The white chick was named snow white. Elizabeth dreamed about the many eggs to come out of snow white. She eats two half boiled eggs every morning. Three months later, we slowly realized that snow white was not a female.
Since we then lived within the city limits, actually we were not supposed to have chickens in our garden. But since the neighbours were so very agreeable and did not complain, we do not keep the loud cocks. Accordingly snow white at first crow was given to our right hand neighbour to slaughter. You see, there are many privileges of tolerating eccentric neighbours keeping chickens. I seemed to remember a few pieces of choice meat came back as curry chicken. Only my husband who usually ignored the chickens had the heart to eat those chicken pieces.
(1139) Two Chickens
When we moved to a house in Solok Mansion, there were two chickens left by the previous tenants. One of them was black and the other is brown. We named the first Black Chicken and the second Hatching. The latter one was predictably wanting to hatch after every clutch of eggs. Nothing would get it out of the stupor of wanting to appropriate any egg in sight for hatching.
Until that month, we knew nothing about live chickens. But soon we realized what efficient garbage disposal machines they are. Apart from onion skin, just about any scraps from the kitchen were fair game for the chickens to eat. If there were eight adult chickens in the garden, they would run and rush at any scraps. Even fish heads were pecked at until only the biggest part of the head bone would be left like a miss shaped round pearl. Back bones would be pecked and repeated hitting actions would reduce it to small bones and therefore would be swallowed.
Once my husband threw out half a watermelon that was scooped out. A few hours later the red parts were eaten with gusto. Even the white part of the flesh was soon eaten, all that was left was the green skin, it soon dried up and became wrinkled bits. For as long as we were in that house, there was no kitchen waste. My trash was really all dry as the troop of chickens cleared up any food remnants.
Until that month, we knew nothing about live chickens. But soon we realized what efficient garbage disposal machines they are. Apart from onion skin, just about any scraps from the kitchen were fair game for the chickens to eat. If there were eight adult chickens in the garden, they would run and rush at any scraps. Even fish heads were pecked at until only the biggest part of the head bone would be left like a miss shaped round pearl. Back bones would be pecked and repeated hitting actions would reduce it to small bones and therefore would be swallowed.
Once my husband threw out half a watermelon that was scooped out. A few hours later the red parts were eaten with gusto. Even the white part of the flesh was soon eaten, all that was left was the green skin, it soon dried up and became wrinkled bits. For as long as we were in that house, there was no kitchen waste. My trash was really all dry as the troop of chickens cleared up any food remnants.
Friday, August 9, 2019
(1138) Life-time jobs
My first assignment was to take over an Arts remedial English class until the end of the semester. It was in a medium-size lecture hall. There were about twenty rows of seats in the form of wooden benches rising from the front to the back. Ninety per cent of the students in front were girls in black, literally head cover that falls to their knees and they wore a black robe that cover them such that I can't see their slippers. Once they sat down, I could see flowery and colourful cloth peeping out from under the robe. Most of the guys were at the back of the lecture hall, sometimes I see a few colourfully clad girls sitting at the back but a few seats from the guys.
My first lesson, I did try to invite the back benchers down to the middle of the hall. Try as I might, they refused to come down. Using my voice projection, I doubted if they could hear me from 35 feet away and forty feet higher than my teacher's platform. By the second lesson, I realized that they were there to earn their 80% attendance to allow them to sit for their final examination. Therefore I concentrated on the front students and slowly teach them, not attempting to finish every teaching goal but rather make sure they understand and really learn something new every single lesson. That goal must have led those majority number to perform well, much to my surprise, I was invited back the following semester as a regular part-timer.
It was interesting to find that those back benchers were all scholarship holders. They seemed to see English as a source of corruption, therefore they refused to be corrupted. Anyway, they were going to become Government servants and need not speak a word of English in their daily work. I elect to leave them alone, well, they are well set for life. There is no need to teach a second language to them who have the guarantee of a life time promise of employment.
My first lesson, I did try to invite the back benchers down to the middle of the hall. Try as I might, they refused to come down. Using my voice projection, I doubted if they could hear me from 35 feet away and forty feet higher than my teacher's platform. By the second lesson, I realized that they were there to earn their 80% attendance to allow them to sit for their final examination. Therefore I concentrated on the front students and slowly teach them, not attempting to finish every teaching goal but rather make sure they understand and really learn something new every single lesson. That goal must have led those majority number to perform well, much to my surprise, I was invited back the following semester as a regular part-timer.
It was interesting to find that those back benchers were all scholarship holders. They seemed to see English as a source of corruption, therefore they refused to be corrupted. Anyway, they were going to become Government servants and need not speak a word of English in their daily work. I elect to leave them alone, well, they are well set for life. There is no need to teach a second language to them who have the guarantee of a life time promise of employment.
Wednesday, August 7, 2019
(1137) Teaching days
I was teaching computer systems and methods in Help Institute. While the school of computer was having a break, the secretarial head who was combative and controlling thought I was too free and spending too much time reading in the college library. She conscripted me to teach remedial English to her girls. Out of the tiny library, I checked out two English reference books. Neither of them was useful as the students' grammar was atrocious. In the end two of my colleagues from the English Department was kind to loan me their extra exercises with answers.
Of many people, none would see me as an English teacher. In the first place, I started out in a Chinese medium primary school. Secondly, at age thirteen I could not string a simple sentence in English to ask a direct question on my first day in my secondary school. Looking back, that shrewd lady did me a great favour while she was bullying me. She backed me into a corner and I had to perform the seemingly impossible.
.....................................
Less than a year later, I resigned and applied to a Master's program. At six month pregnant, I applied for a part-time job teaching English in the Arts Faculty of Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia. As the original teacher went into the hospital for an emergency operation that would put her out of action for at least six weeks, I was the only candidate at one day's notice. At this point I must mention that even though I majored in Science, my small college only offered Bachelor of Arts. Looking at my B.A. Honours in my college diploma, the Chairman asked, " Where did you teach English last?" "Help." In a sense it was a truthful answer. I was accepted on a temporary basis until the end of the semester.
It was actually quite a hilarious journey. I was just one lesson ahead of my year one Arts students. Half an hour before class, Rachel or Nicole took turns to coach me for at least one month until I could figure out how to use the Teacher's copy. There were three books, yellow , red and green. I was in my first year of marriage, as green and game as another young person. I thought, "Since my English is better than the students, with some preparation I surely could swing it." Thank goodness there were lesson plans, teaching goals, texts, questions, exercises, home work, as well as answers printed in a most easy to use manner. Thus that was the real beginning of me becoming an English teacher.
Of many people, none would see me as an English teacher. In the first place, I started out in a Chinese medium primary school. Secondly, at age thirteen I could not string a simple sentence in English to ask a direct question on my first day in my secondary school. Looking back, that shrewd lady did me a great favour while she was bullying me. She backed me into a corner and I had to perform the seemingly impossible.
.....................................
Less than a year later, I resigned and applied to a Master's program. At six month pregnant, I applied for a part-time job teaching English in the Arts Faculty of Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia. As the original teacher went into the hospital for an emergency operation that would put her out of action for at least six weeks, I was the only candidate at one day's notice. At this point I must mention that even though I majored in Science, my small college only offered Bachelor of Arts. Looking at my B.A. Honours in my college diploma, the Chairman asked, " Where did you teach English last?" "Help." In a sense it was a truthful answer. I was accepted on a temporary basis until the end of the semester.
It was actually quite a hilarious journey. I was just one lesson ahead of my year one Arts students. Half an hour before class, Rachel or Nicole took turns to coach me for at least one month until I could figure out how to use the Teacher's copy. There were three books, yellow , red and green. I was in my first year of marriage, as green and game as another young person. I thought, "Since my English is better than the students, with some preparation I surely could swing it." Thank goodness there were lesson plans, teaching goals, texts, questions, exercises, home work, as well as answers printed in a most easy to use manner. Thus that was the real beginning of me becoming an English teacher.
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