(1281)Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen

This is the very first time I found Reader's Digest condensed books in a Sabah State Library. It is a wonderful treat.

It is interesting to read about how combinations of foods and herbs affect us positively and negatively. It is really no surprise as we are what we eat. Years ago I was sitting at my grandma's knees listening to her woes of taboo food. Eating certain vegetables caused back aches. Of course that was really nonsense to me then. As a child I could eat that and not suffer any pain. Not long ago I heard my mum had to avoid some food, not necessarily the same list as my grandma. Ancient Chinese medicine texts claimed those food and vegetables as "cooling". Sadly after my battle with carcinoma, I too had to be careful with what I eat.

My grandma's reserves of calcium was possibly low. She was poor for most part of her life. She was loving towards her children and grand children. She kept the best part of the meal for me and my brothers. I suspect that her aches and pain was due to low calcium level in the blood when she hit her mid-fifties. My mum has had adequate nutrition since her early thirties after dad's promotion. She began suffering aches and pains in her seventies. She has had arthritis and high blood pressure since her early fifties.

Lately I realised I have to stay off certain grains apart from rice and wheat. I suspect those alternate source of carbohydrates used up my precious source of B complex. I have a functional deficiency of Vitamin B. That means that while I do have sufficient supply of Vitamin B in my body (according to the need of a normal person), my body might burn off most of it under stress. By consuming Marmite (brewer's yeast) takes care of the lack and eliminate the pain. Marmite is equivalent to Borvil and Vegemite, I think.

(1280)Orbit by John Nance

Imagine you are trapped in a space craft doomed in all practical purposes, all the thoughts that run through your head are read in real time by those who cared to on earth, that was this tale.

As far back as I could remember, writing was easy for me. By age nine, I was earning a dollar here and two dollars there submitting articles to Children's Sections in Chinese Dailies. At thirteen I was an up and coming writer in a teen literary Chinese magazine. In 1981 I chose to attend a women's college well known for creative writing. I took exactly two courses in the English Department. In expository writing, a second level course, I wrote a term paper featuring the life of my maternal grandmother. The following year, I took an Independent Study which is a third year course and produced eight Chinese folktales.

Over the years, I taught English, brought up children and dabbled in special education. On the side, I continued to write. Once my children are grown, I started blogging. Over 36 years, I decided not to publish. That was until I faced death in the hospital. Once I recovered, I overcome the fear of revealing myself through my writing. Of course I still use a pen name and avoided using a current photo in my books.

Why? It just seemed a waste that if I had died, no one would bother about publishing whatever I have written and left behind. At that point of time, I no longer fear publicity. I no longer am bothered by the fear of not being accepted or liked. In fact, the feared attack did come. I was chastised for publishing folk tales written before I became a Christian. Nothing can take away my ethnic heritage. After I chose Jesus, does it make me less of a Chinese? I don't think so. Thank God I could just skip town and change church. Here in my second lease of life, I am an old woman minding my own business, living quietly and still writing.

(1279)No Time for Goodbye by Linwood Barclay

Imagine a teenage girl woke up one day and lost her parents and an only brother. That was the plot of this story.

Years later, she was married with an eight-year-old daughter. Her mum and brother were found at the bottom of a quarry lake in the former's car.

In the best tradition of a thriller, a few more people died before the mystery was unravelled. An interview with the author revealed that this novel started as an idea taken from a news article of one person who disappeared, leaving behind three other family members.

In Peninsular Malaysia, it was rather common to hear of voluntary disappearance of gamblers who incurred in astronomical debts with loan sharks who were ready to torture or shoot them. I have heard of one case where the debtor was sighted in a border town in Thailand. I suppose the remaining family members might migrate to another nation or at least relocate to a town far away leaving no forwarding address.

Sadly, my own cousin decided to stay put in the same house after her husband hanged himself to escape from astronomical debts. She is a Ph.D. candidate and a high level government servant in a small town in the East Coast. It is fortunate that the deceased left behind much money in the Employee Provident Fund (pension fund) and a good sum of life insurance pay-out. Even then, it would probably take a thick skin and stiff upper lip to face down the tittle-tattle of a small town.

(1278)Scared to Live by Stephen Booth

The interesting story is made from many intertwining strands. I am picking up one theme: the desperate desire to have a daughter.

Recently I met a friend's cousin from the countryside. She is in her early thirties with three sons: 9, 6, and 1 year old. She works in the management office of a medium-priced apartment complex. Her husband works as a security guard in a factory nearby.

I have four former classmates: A, B, C, and D. A and B each have one son only. C has 2 sons but no daughter. D has three sons only. A chose to have one son and stopped there. B paid a 5-figure sum to the fertility clinic and was happy with one son. C could not have more children because her husband was adamant they have enough children. D cried at the birth of the third son because she wanted a girl badly.

It is intriguing that A, B, C, and D have been financially stable and could have more children, biological or adoptive. Therefore I was somewhat surprised that my new friend would attempt a fourth pregnancy hoping for a daughter. Economically, having a fourth child may well push her family below the poverty line.

Then I read Scared to Live, it is obviously fiction. In the story, the adoptive mother and two biological sons died in arson. The bereaved husband promptly disappeared even though he was not the arsonist. The grandfather was charged with murder originated from an illegal adoption which led to attempted blackmail.

Perhaps fictions may explain what happens in real life more logically.

(1277)From Cradle to Grave by Patricia MacDonald

I read this book in the Reader's Digest condensed version. The house shown on the original book jacket was like the one I visited on Blenheim Avenue in a small town in Virginia.

Yet the illustration on the condensed book was like the house Jennifer's mum, Mrs N lived in Vermont. It is interesting that architecture brought back fond memories. The family in the Blenheim Avenue house actually turned up for my college graduation. Mrs N's husband actually spent a third of his life tramping in Peninsular Malaysia and Northern Borneo selling explosives and fertilisers to miners and farmers. That was way before the independence of my nation.

This book celebrates friendship and loyalty. I doubt I have the guts to put my life on the line for a friend like Morgan who stuck to Claire through thick and thin. Co-incidentally I went through post-natal blues after the birth of my first child. To a certain extent I could relate to what Claire went through.

This book revealed little about Claire's husband. We know that he was seduced by his step-mother and carried on with her for years. His first wife was actually killed by the step-mother. Claire was very fortunate that Morgan investigated enough to clear her of the double murder charges. I suppose "old sin casts long shadows" summarised this story aptly.

(1276)Half Broke Horses by Jeannette Walls

This true story of Lily Casey Smith beat my grandma's life experience flat. Yet, my grandma was no shrinking violet.

While I self published a small booklet of "Stories My Grandma Told Me" which included a 7-page biography of the old lady I wrote in college as a term paper, Jeannette did a wonderful job with her book.

Ladies who struck out on their own in the bygone years were people with true grit. Nothing would beat them down. Lily spent her early life ranching and breaking carriage horses in USA, my grandma was a peasant planting rice paddy in Southern China.

Lily's first husband two-timed her. My grandpa died probably of a stroke in his late forties. Lily chose a good man and married for a second time. My grandma single-handedly brought up five children, four biological and one adopted.

Lily left home at fifteen and rode her pony 500 miles to her first job in a frontier town. My grandma left China at age 20 to sail to the then Malaya as a mail order bride. Both women were courageous and go-getters. Lily was born in 1901 in West Texas while grandma was born in 1903 in Canton, South China.

It is amazing to me that women in the east and the west of around the same era could possess the same spirit in striking out into the unknown to lead lives they desired.

(1275)Thirteen Hours by Deon Meyer

Table Mountain, South Africa is as exotic a place as I could imagine.

This is the very first book I read that was written in Africa and placed in Cape Town. Reading in between the lines, I noticed tension among the three groups: the whites, the blacks and the coloureds.

While the world is ravaged with COVID-19, it is most unlikely I would ever find the money or courage to visit Cape Town. It is such a blessing that authors like Deon Meyer brought his city to me in a book.

I have enjoyed this book as much as books on murder written by Swedish authors. Apart from TV documentaries, such books allow me to armchair travel.

(1274)Gweilo by Martin Booth

It is a bitter sweet tale of childhood in Hong Kong. "Gweilo" is a term of the Cantonese for white men. An equivalent in Malaysia is "Mat Salleh", and in Thailand it is "Farang".

There is something about Hong Kong that draws me. If I have lots of money, I would probably visit Hong Kong yearly in December around Christmas time. Of course that is not practical right now with COVID and the political instability with China clamping down on the activists in the former crown colony.

My friend Mei argued with me that Singapore is just as safe as Hong Kong, so why do I dread going to Singapore as a vacation spot? Well, Hong Kong has character but Singapore is kind of boring. Even watching women's fashion could be fun in Hong Kong but I hardly look at clothes women wear in Singapore twice. Melbourne and Sydney are as cold as Hong Kong certain months, but I doubt I would visit those cities again.

I may not have travelled to as many countries as my contemporaries, but Hong Kong is definitely my #1 destination if I want to burn a few thousand dollars and there is not protest there.

(1273) Sweet drinks

I grew up in a household where there were usually 12 cases of gassy drinks in the store room from age 9 onwards. When I hit age 21, I stopped taking soft drinks with no prompting from my parents.

My husband came from a home that he only got to drink soft drinks during Chinese New Year or during wedding dinners in restaurants. He seemed to have an unlimited capacity for drinking soft drinks. It is amazing that his blood sugar reading is fairly normal now.

His youngest brother turned diabetic at age 40. His eldest brother still allowed himself unlimited refills on Sunday. On week days he does not allow himself sugary drinks.

Where should a parent draw the line with coke or Fanta? I don't encourage daily drinking, but I think it is destructive to deprive a child totally. Father and mother have to come to an agreement somehow, or else juniors would divide and conquer.

(1272)Regrets

Recently a girl friend asked me if I ever regretted having children. The answer is yes, many a time, when the children were young. Children chopped up a mother's sleep for months or years. One could be exhausted looking after two children under the ages of four. When a mother has a third child and has no helper, she often could be sleep deprived and depressed.

My way to overcome that was to work part time but send my children to a full time babysitter. That way at least I get to catch up with my sleep and perhaps could go out to do something for myself one afternoon a week.

After talking to me, my friend sends her baby to child care 5 days a week. She works from home now and looks after her 8 year old by herself.

(1271)Keeping workers

Six years ago I found a temporary job in Sabah. My son and I would eat lunch in a Chinese coffee shop on Saturdays. For five Malaysian Dollars, we get two meat dishes and one vegetable in single portion on a plate of white rice. Ice Chinese tea and a small bowl of hot soup would come along with the plate. We call it economy or mix rice, a common offering for the poor in this part of the world.

There were three native servers in this shop, two boys and one girl. Today, only two boys remain. The more skilled boy makes and serves drinks; the other collects used crockery, wipes the tables and generally helps the customers.

One morning, a man asked where the girl went. It was about 6:15am. The sun rises early in Sabah as we follow Kuala Lumpur time which is closer to Thai time zone. At that time of the morning, the shop was more or less empty. The lady boss said that it was just too bad that a well trained worker could not in real life be kept too long. Apparently two weeks ago during one lunch time, the rush was just about over. The lady boss was busy collecting money from a table of four. The well trained boy was engaged making drinks. The other boy was in the kitchen assisting the cook. Two customers walked in and stood in front of the food waiting to be served. The girl was holding a drink she made for herself, seated down behind the counter. She was not willing to stand up, put down the cold drink to serve. In the end the lady boss quickly detached herself from answering the customers, passed the change over and hurried to pack lunches. So did the drinks boy, he quickly served the last drink ordered and hurried to pack for the second customer.

After the episode was over, the lady boss chided the girl server. She said next time do put down the drink and serve the waiting customers because everyone at the shop front was busy. The girl kept quiet but did not look happy. The next day she didn't turn up for work. As the girl was monthly paid, she called up at nine am to say she was sick. Then she absented herself for three more days with no further call. By then the male boss took her off the employment list, assuming she left without resigning.

A week later the drinks person asked if the lady boss would take the girl back. The answer was the earlier work contract was broken, should the applicant want the job back, she need to turn up in person to apply. At this point, boss lady sighed. When the girl was in her teens, the boss' family used to house her until she was of age and found friends to rent a house with. The boss' mother used to cook dinners and treat the girl as a family member. That meant free lodging, free transport and free dinners. It seemed that as it goes, the girl has forgotten and was no longer grateful for past deeds and the on going relationship for more than ten years.

(1270) Voice recognition

A friend adopted a child and is home-schooling him. I have met the child six years ago. He is almost 8 now but is reading on the level of a 5-year-old. He is bright and quick but displaced quite a few inversions of the letters.

The child is quite a whiz in getting the maximum use of a smart phone. By using voice recognition, he probably thinks that he could get away with not reading much. After all, with the advance features of an android, one need not write or spell to communicate.

Perhaps in the west he could get away without reading fluently. Here in Asia, I think one has to be able to read to get a job that pays well. The child's adoptive dad is a Canadian citizen. His adoptive mom was born in Sabah. I wonder where he would choose to reside when he grows up.

(1269)Being cheated

Instead of placing a standing order for coffee, I have chosen to collect it from a bus depot.

Normally, my supplier would send it by bus, it costs $7 per parcel. This time she was busy and her friend did her a favour by dropping it at the parcel desk in the bus company, that friend paid $17 instead of $7.

Questioning the receiving clerk, she said the delivery charge was $7 as usual. The sender probably was not watchful, the despatch clerk altered a copy of the invoice stealthily and pocketed the $10. I suppose one should watch counter staff with eagle eyes especially if not familiar with the sending process.

It gives a bad taste in the mouth to be cheated like that. It is a good thing my supplier was fair and she did not load that $10 on me.

(1268) Buying eggs

Recently I bought 10 eggs that were supposed to come from free range chickens. They were good, the egg yolks were more orange in colour than normal commercial eggs.

A week later, I bought 10 for myself and 10 for my good friend. For two months or so, the price was maintained. I paid $4 for 10 small eggs. A few weeks later, my friend caught on and asked me to buy 30 such eggs for her. When I finally went to purchase for her, there was no package of 10, so I bought 30 for her and 30 for myself. This time I paid $15 for 30 eggs, they were a bit bigger. Well, I suppose I am willing to pay more money for good eggs.

That was until I found 2 spoilt eggs in the middle of the tray. I mean, really black and stinky old eggs. It was dinner time, a little too dark to drive to the shop to complain. So I took the easy way out and threw away the bad eggs. Much later I met my friend and she told me there were 3 bad eggs in the middle of her tray. That sounded like the supplier or seller purposely put bad eggs to cheat the consumers.

I complained to the cashier and she said to bring the bad eggs and she would replace. But, really, who would put stinky eggs in plastic bag and keep it until marketing day since I do not shop daily. I simply stopped buying eggs in that shop. That day I saw they have stacks of eggs unsold. I was not the only one who boycotted those eggs. After all I could buy eggs in a dozen places in town or near where I live.

(1267)A collection of books

When I was in Secondary school my library consisted of two classrooms and offered 6500 books. It was considered an average library in a small school.

My cousin Jess owns 7000 to 8000 books. All of them are new, and lovingly handled and stored in boxes with naphthalene balls. When I was visiting her family regularly in the 1990s, we have talked loosely about endowing a foundation to care for the collection. I told her that she needed a premise that is air-conditioned at least 8 hours a day. She needs a librarian or curator full time, that won't come cheap.

When another relative went into will and trust writing, we explored that avenue of leaving the collection to a trust company. Jess said she did not own enough cash for the initial outlay right at her projected death.

She did ask my youngest once if she could leave her substantial collection to be cared for in the future. As my daughter did not own a house, she declined the kind offer as she would have no premise to house the books. In fact, we had a good laugh together when my daughter commented that I would be a better person to care for the books since I was a school librarian for six years. Well, the fact is I am older than Jess 9 years, I may not outlive her that long.

Now my brother's son is 14 years old. He will co-own a three storey dwelling with his brother in the future. Ted loves books, he probably would be a good candidate to be considered by Jess to inherit her books. It is just as well I never have the funds to become a serious collector, else I would have a similar problem.

(1266)Injustice

The great injustice of my life is the fact that both my brothers were sent to English primary school but I was to go to a Chinese school at age 7.

Throughout the six years of torture I had like at least 4 times the amount of homework daily compared to them. You see, pages and pages of Chinese writing and copying had to be done every school day to place the memory into the brain via the muscular-neurological route in order for the child to recognise a character by sight and to recall how to write the character from memory.

So when my brothers went out to play, I stewed at home to complete the regular load of copying and exercises. At the same time, they would laughed at me the slow coach before walking out to have fun. Many years later, after I returned from tertiary education abroad, I found that on my first birthday, my dad told my mum that he believed that I have inherited most of his talents. That sounded most unbelievable, how could any parent know that much at such an early stage? Yet my dad was confident that I could juggle three languages simultaneously.

It was no mean feat to spend six years mastering Chinese (a very difficult language to learn). Then for the next six years to pick up enough Malay and English. One must pass Malay to clear GCE O-level. I am very fortunate that I saw the beauty of all three languages. After O-level, one has two years to improve in English to go abroad. So it seems that my father was correct in estimating my ability to adapt and qualify somehow in all three languages over the years.

Looking back, it would have been a lot easier to obey and follow the path mapped out by my dad and teachers. At birth, my brain was wired to learn Chinese. It was seemingly effortless. Why, I do not know, perhaps the brain was designed to memorise pictorial characters. Of course it helped that I have perfect recall in hearing. Yet it was extremely difficult for me to learn any language that involved the alphabet and phonetic blending. I failed English in Year Five and Malay in Year Six. I even failed the important Malay Trial Exam for GCE O-level. Thank Goodness I miraculously passed Malay in the real exam - that was another story in itself.

Now that I am writing in English, it is of course quite difficult for anyone to believe that I was quite hopeless in English in 1973. In fact I could hardly speak nor write an acceptable sentence in English when I entered Remove, a preparatory year for switching the medium of instruction. Should I decide to obey my dad, I would probably have attended a private Chinese High School on scholarship (offered to me at age 12). After the 13th year of education move onto Taiwan to study Journalism. At the tender age of 12, two of my Chinese language teachers thought I would make a creditable editor in any Chinese newspaper some day. Since I told them my family was not wealthy enough to be able to pay the high fee for private education, probably my kind Headmistress convinced a few rich and influential women to create a special scholarship for me. I declined it in politeness and set my heart to conquer English. Much later I did miraculously won enough aid and a memorial scholarship to attend a college in USA. Looking back, it was sheer stubbornness in being adamant to reinvent the wheel, after all, what is the difference between the first and the second hard fought for scholarships? Either leads to a Bachelor's degree, although in different languages in different countries.

I did not tell my dad the once-in-a-life-time generous offer. He signed my school selection form after extracting a solemn promise from me that I would score a credit in GCE O-level Chinese even though I abruptly switched the medium of instruction to Malay at age 12. That I did. I was fortunate to obtain a Credit 6 at first try. 1 and 2 are distinctions, 3,4,5 and 6 are credits. Being lazy, I just worked hard enough to fulfil my promise to my father. I was cutting things very narrow. If I had hit a 7 then it would mean retaking the single paper until I get a credit. Most of my classmates found it hard to believe that one often knows how much effort and time to put in for a certain grade.

(1265) The Last Testament by Sam Bourne

This name reminded me of The Testament by John Grisham.

Of course if such a will is found, the testament of Abraham of Genesis would be supremely important historically and politically. Yet it is not uncommon to have wills ignored. A family friend passed on and his wife was mum on the location of his will. She thought it was with the 85 year old family lawyer. She did not try to get in touch with him. Neither did she check the safe deposit box jointly owned by her husband and her. Since their only child is half the world away, she did not attempt to help her mom in any way as the death occurred during the lock down period of COVID. It looks like nothing will be done until mom's death. Even then, will the daughter be able to return from USA to claim the inheritance? With COVID and the instability in the US, would a mere PR (permanent resident) dare to leave US soil amidst all manner of executive orders banning folks from returning to US.

Another family with children scattered among a few time zones faced the parent's will which is not practical to execute. They bypassed it and used the LA (Letter of Administration) to access the inheritance. That would be very time consuming because of the red tape as well as delays caused by the COVID shut down. Nevertheless it could be done, after some time.

(1264) The Overlook by Michael Connelly

Books are like old friends. The first time I read The Overlook was when my neighbour loaned me about ten Michael Connelly books.

The second time I saw it and had access, it was in my host family's library. Since Dr Loo had like twenty five Readers Digest condensed books, I did not choose to reread it.

This is my third time meeting this book, I borrowed it from the Sabah library. Flipping through this story which I still remember brought to mind my good friend's ordeal.

While many people chose to marry others of different nationalities, my friend chose to marry someone from a northern country. When the marriage broke down, she not only lost her marital home and the joint account, but also the custody of her children whom she loved dearly. You see, she is a simple honest woman who happened to be naïve, he is a crafty lawyer. While she got on well with him, it never occurred to her to apply for citizenship. After her divorce, she lost her permanent residency because she could not find a good job there.

In one sense, I could say that he would be kinder to have killed her physically. In real life he turned his children against her, almost framed her for child abuse. To escape from a fate of living in prison, she run. After two years of living from hand to mouth teaching English and subsisting in a dingy rented room, she swallowed her pride and returned to her home town.

Now with the COVID pandemic raging, effectively she has no access to her grown children except through whatsap and email. Now I see the wisdom of my mother, "Do not marry a person from another country unless you are willing to live there until you die." she said prior to my boarding a Pan Am flight to New York city in 1981.

(1263) Dangerous legacy

While it is a crime killing individuals in one's way, I think sometimes it could be more than a crime to deter progress in one's family.

My father's cousin owned a shop lot in the centre business district in a mining town. The town centre has been dying for years. The cousin refused to sell in the boom years. Once a consortium offered $3,000,000 to buy the pre-war double-storey 30x105 square feet concrete structure. He, the owner, simply believed the maxim that one buys property to keep. Now that he has passed on, his 78 year old widow and his 50 year old daughter existed in the decaying building. That neighbourhood boasted of boarded up buildings, multi-storey business structure with underground car parks. It is also unsafe and full of unsavoury elements after dark. Both ladies sleep with one eye open as well as a base ball bat next to the bed.

Much as I do not understand why two women of average intelligence need to "defend" their property. It is the fact that they have been staying there for more than forty years. It may just be the great unknown that frightened them. It is seemingly safe to stick to what one is used to than to consider something new. Should one day those two become statistics of robbery turned into murders, I wonder if we may say that the proud former owner of that building left behind a legacy that led to the demise of his family?

(1262) Under Orders by Dick Francis

This is an excellent crime novel set in the racing world. Every Francis book I have read turned out to be gem.

The theme that struck me was the father and son angst between Lord Enstone and Peter. I was living on the periphery of something like that in Silver City about 18 years ago.

That year, I had an autistic high-functioning student. His parents were highly paid lawyers. The child's elder brother was like Peter, a much tormented young man. He was in pre-university then. I had little contact with this brother except when he came to pick my student up. Living in a friendly neighbourhood, my student struck up friendship with my neighbours' children.

My neighbour, a very perceptive and lonely woman, told me that alcohol was a problem in that household. When dad had a glass too many, poor elder son suffered emotionally from father's outbursts. However, my student was much loved and spoiled by his father. The mother was sensible and logical, she could neither influence her husband nor help the elder son.

Thank goodness the wealth in this family saved the elder son. He flew to UK to continue his tertiary studies. Should he graduate, then he had the choice of not returning to his hometown. He could craft his own niche instead of fighting an influential and rich father as Peter in the story did.

(1261) Black Wind by Cussler

In this book, the toxic brew was small pox and HIV organisms.

Now, we are facing the pandemic of COVID-19. In a way, the coronavirus acted as a game changer. What appeared to be a scourge for a limited time, may turn out to be a long-term curse bringing in what some call 'the new normal', permanently.

Some say it was the once-in-a-hundred-year pandemic. Others suspected human intervention. Fingers pointed to China, USA, and elsewhere. But whatever it is, the virus is here to stay. We humans have no option but to find a way to function and live with the spreading, or retreating of the virus in our midst.

I feel for those who laboured for the past thirty years, scrimping and saving all they could, for travelling in their golden years. It does look like the travel industry would not return to normal within the next two to five years.

God help those whose children are scattered all over the world in USA, Canada, New Zealand, Australia, UK and everywhere else!

Visiting one's children who has adopted those nations as their forever home, becomes enormously complicated, as countries have shut down their borders to all except their own citizens.

To walk out of my door, I need to wear a face mask. To walk into any public premises, involves compulsory recording of my full name, my phone number, current body temperature, date and time. Hand sanitizer becomes a constant fact of life. I know it is a small price to pay for the ability to walk out of my front door.

(1260)Pain

My son met up with his favourite cousin. After a nourishing meal that comforted their souls, they went shopping. They bought sausages, bread, tarts and last of all, six big tubes of Counterpain.

Now, that is a little out of the ordinary. A few questions later, it was revealed that my aunt by marriage used one tube (family size) every two weeks to dull her pain in her lower limbs beneath the knees.

While I have always known her unhappiness, I never realised the amount and the degree of pain she had to endure. Sure, she lost her dad before school age during the Japanese occupation of peninsular Malaysia. Instead of going to school until age 17, she gave up early at 12 to look after her four brothers and to run the home. Her widow mum used to hold two jobs to make ends meet.

My uncle could have been the best looking man in his neck of town, but he was not an easy husband. My grandmother definitely would not have been termed a good mother-in-law. But both my grandma and uncle had passed on. The former departed 44 years ago while the latter died 2 years ago. If it was those two were the source of her pain emotionally, then she should be better now. What she should do is to let go, forgive and enter a new phase of a better life.

Now I thought of the maid mentioned in blog 1258. After three husbands and five sons. She still work hard at age 62. Her husband divorced her and she lost two sons to him. The second husband was murdered by his brother-in-law over a few acres of rubber land. She managed to keep the two sons with this husband. The third husband disappeared while her youngest was a toddler. Yet she said God was good to her. A friend introduced her to her present employer 23 years ago and she never look back to those tearful days with three young children.

Comparing the lives of my aunt and this friend, I conclude that it is not what happened, it is how one reacts that determines one's life. Most Indonesians I met are Moslems, they have a certain way of attributing happenings to the will of God. It may sound fatalistic, yet the ready acceptance of bad fortune and the reaction of working hard to overcome it seemed to work for this friend.

(1259) Confucious saying

Yesterday I was talking about the roles of man and woman. Please don't get me wrong, I am educated and I did work outside the home many years. What I am talking about is taking over the role of one's husband in bringing home the bacon for a sustain period of time.

Many years ago as a young woman I used to think that Confucius is a die hard sexist. After all, he said that a woman without any money or money making talents is virtuous. In my modern mind, I thought it was alright either to have wealth or abilities that can make money. Surely that would be good assets for any person, man or woman.

Thirty years on, my view on such a matter changed. First, my best friend in pre-university became the CEO of a bank in one of the Middle-Eastern countries. Of course I was happy for her. Interestingly her husband went into semi-retirement to ferry their two children.

Next, my best friend after college became one of the premier lawyers in town. Her husband happened to be like 12 years older than her. After he was retrenched from a multinational firm, he also took things easy to become the three children's transporter. Shortly after that, they migrated to Canada.

The third case was my neighbour in Sabah, she worked long and hard in a Chinese regional company to put her three children through higher studies while her husband took it easy losing like two hundred thousand ringgit in an ill fated retail and wholesale business. There are men who are fantastic managers but hopeless businessmen.

Fourthly, a friend in Thailand rushed out to teach in both a government school and a private tutoring centre to make ends meet when her husband lost his high paying job. Her marriage crumbled and her ex managed to turn both her darlings against her. She lost custody of both off springs.

Last of all, a woman doctor wanted to get her child bearing years over in as short time as possible. She had two biological children within 18 months and adopted a third child whose age was in between the former two. There was a time period that she had three children under the age of 4. It was tough. Her husband had to give up his career to help the maid and his mother in child care. As a result they become a single income family. It does seem that while it is wonderful the wife helps supplement the family income, it actually is not a good idea that the wife takes over the task of bringing home the bacon. Surely not many men are good at nurturing, cooking, cleaning and all that a homemaker does to run the home.