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.
Saturday, August 31, 2019
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.
Tuesday, August 6, 2019
(1136) chili mania
I was sitting in my alternate breakfast place at 6:30 am (the sun rises at 5:45am this part of the year) looking at a bowl of bland healthy looking dry rice noodle in a few drops of onion oil and black sauce. In my hometown I would be given a tiny saucer of pickle chili in soy sauce. Here I look at a small container of self serve watery chili sauce in vinegar.
A few years back I was feeling so deprived that I dreamed of chili padi(tiny green spicy chili pepper) at night. Normally I don't eat much spicy food. But after about eight months of bland Cantonese cooking, I yearned for hot spicy chili. I went to the local Giant looking for raw chili pepper. Would you believe it? Eleven tiny chili padi was labelled at $3.93. In the end I didn't buy. A week later I flew back to my hometown and collected every piece of chili served to take home to be consumed at my leisure. My daughter Elizabeth couldn't believe her eyes, I would take a small container whenever we eat out so I could build a collection of raw chili pieces in soy sauce in the freezer. That continued for weeks. It is strange that one misses some food type when we move far to another town or state.
This trip I intend to buy some bottle chili sambal (chili paste made from a recipe that includes belachan - dried small prawns) way before the total depravation state.
A few years back I was feeling so deprived that I dreamed of chili padi(tiny green spicy chili pepper) at night. Normally I don't eat much spicy food. But after about eight months of bland Cantonese cooking, I yearned for hot spicy chili. I went to the local Giant looking for raw chili pepper. Would you believe it? Eleven tiny chili padi was labelled at $3.93. In the end I didn't buy. A week later I flew back to my hometown and collected every piece of chili served to take home to be consumed at my leisure. My daughter Elizabeth couldn't believe her eyes, I would take a small container whenever we eat out so I could build a collection of raw chili pieces in soy sauce in the freezer. That continued for weeks. It is strange that one misses some food type when we move far to another town or state.
This trip I intend to buy some bottle chili sambal (chili paste made from a recipe that includes belachan - dried small prawns) way before the total depravation state.
Monday, August 5, 2019
(1135) shop lifting
I was reading girl talk by Lois Walfrid Johnson. There is a story in there that talked about shop lifting.
Many years ago I had a brush with that. I saw a classmate steal a handkerchief with the help of another friend. That was way before CCTV became a standard feature in all supermarkets.
Naturally I was confused and I chose to tell my mum about it. She gave me advice on choosing not to accompany them shopping. I remembered going swimming and watching the Saturday morning cheap cinema show with them once or twice more. Slowly we drifted apart.
The girl who took the handkerchief had a traumatic teenage life. She was devastated when her mom wanted to send her to a public school. My friend wanted her mom to send her to the private school her twin sisters went to. In a fit of anger, she tore her school leaving certificate . Her mom and dad were too busy or too disappointed to help her apply for a replacement. She stopped school.
At age sixteen she became pregnant and she married her present husband. She went through a tough time raising up two sons and a daughter in a big extended family. She is a strong person and could weather all kinds of insults and slights.
With her husband working for his elder brother in the family car accessory shop, at least it was a financially stable life. She gained the favour of her father-in-law and was given the back half of a house to stay in rent free. When her two boys were off her hands, she started a shop. She took care of marketing while her husband managed the service end. When we met again, she was a business woman but I was a homemaker. She was the one to advise me not to get into any business venture. As she used the proverb that said she was sitting on top of a tiger's back, that meant she could not get down even if she wanted to. If she gives up, where will her thirty two employees get their monthly pay?
We lost touch after I relocated to Silver City. I wonder what she is doing now? Probably still shouldering the responsibility of running a big work shop and working like a workaholic.
Many years ago I had a brush with that. I saw a classmate steal a handkerchief with the help of another friend. That was way before CCTV became a standard feature in all supermarkets.
Naturally I was confused and I chose to tell my mum about it. She gave me advice on choosing not to accompany them shopping. I remembered going swimming and watching the Saturday morning cheap cinema show with them once or twice more. Slowly we drifted apart.
The girl who took the handkerchief had a traumatic teenage life. She was devastated when her mom wanted to send her to a public school. My friend wanted her mom to send her to the private school her twin sisters went to. In a fit of anger, she tore her school leaving certificate . Her mom and dad were too busy or too disappointed to help her apply for a replacement. She stopped school.
At age sixteen she became pregnant and she married her present husband. She went through a tough time raising up two sons and a daughter in a big extended family. She is a strong person and could weather all kinds of insults and slights.
With her husband working for his elder brother in the family car accessory shop, at least it was a financially stable life. She gained the favour of her father-in-law and was given the back half of a house to stay in rent free. When her two boys were off her hands, she started a shop. She took care of marketing while her husband managed the service end. When we met again, she was a business woman but I was a homemaker. She was the one to advise me not to get into any business venture. As she used the proverb that said she was sitting on top of a tiger's back, that meant she could not get down even if she wanted to. If she gives up, where will her thirty two employees get their monthly pay?
We lost touch after I relocated to Silver City. I wonder what she is doing now? Probably still shouldering the responsibility of running a big work shop and working like a workaholic.
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