(1314)Cowardly

I am essentially a coward. Many times I shied away because I dreaded a situation, not knowing how to behave and what to say. It was much easier to stay away.

Many years ago, when I was new in Silver city, I would attend two fellowship groups from two churches each week. It was a happy way to meet new people and to make friends. There was a group that met in the Assistant Leader's home, which until today I hadn't learn how to navigate there. I readily admit to anyone that I am quite hopeless in remembering geographical locations. After a year of being driven to the meetings every Friday night, I couldn't drive to that house on my own. In those days there were no ways or GPS.

Abruptly, the meetings changed to the Leader's house and the Assistant Leader stopped coming. I was curious and surprised, I asked and the answer was he had a project out of town and his wife was busy preparing for the coming wedding of the eldest son. A year later I realized that there was only seven months between the wedding and the full moon celebration of the first grandchild. Then I was aghast how badly I had behaved. Normally I am a person who hardly call folks on the phone. I did try once or twice to get someone to lead me to their house so I could visit. But I did not try that hard. It really looked like I judged them and dropped them like hot cakes during a difficult time for them. In real life I was more blissfully ignorant than being judgemental. I felt very bad.

In between, my family moved 200 miles to the south. One day, another Silver city friend called and said that the Leader's youngest daughter was going for a second scan in a hospital near my new home. This time I made sure my husband called and make appointment to take them out for dinner. We feared the prognosis was cancer. I was fearful of not knowing how to respond and what to say. We had a very nice meal, my husband and I listened to their pain and many fears. We ended saying a short prayer before parting. It was not as difficult as I feared. That was many years ago and the girl went on to remission after surgery. She qualified as a doctor in Australia six years later.

The two incidences happened ten years apart. It is amazing how time taught a person not to be immobilised by fear. I have learnt to walk into a situation fearfully than doing nothing.

(1313)Social distancing

When I was resident in Regent Garden, Silver City, I used to buy minced meat that was quick frozen from half a shop nearby. It was a very quiet area, the lady habitually half shuttered and locked the grill door. I had to ring an electric bell to get service if she happened to be out of sight. After a while, I would time my purchases to my return journey from picking up my youngest. At that time in the afternoon she normally was seated hand slicing meat from bristle about six feet from the opening. I would make sure my child had locked the car door before I walked out to buy a few packets of meat.

The entire row of two-storey shops consists of five shoplots. Four of them were in use, one at the end was untenanted and looked run down. This was fairly common in Silver City, many shops in unpopular areas were just left vacant. The owners would not sell even if they could not let the shops out year after year. These poperty owners must have deep pockets as they would have to pay quit rent, accessment rate and utilities even for unproductive real estate.

One day I talked to my left hand neighbour who owned and managed an electrical sale and repair shop outside of our housing area. She was one of the first to move into my row of houses. She told me that four shops made up a catering service consisting at least two legal entities owned by one man. The unassuming looking lady who sold me meat is his wife, a person who is from a rich family herself. The boss owned two shops, the one I frequented was rented from a close relative at a nominal rate. He took over the catering business from his father, that was the Chinese cuisine line. He partnered a friend to start the kosher line and later began a vegetarian one as the green movement swept the area. That was why there were three distinct kitchens for the three separate services.

The boss' wife is a rare breed who do not want to run the three kitchens. She merely passed her time preparing and selling parts of the animals that could not be used in the catering. As I became a regular, we chatted. During peak business period, her husband would purchase an animal 3-4 days. She pointed to her three deep chest freezers, they would be each almost full then. During slack time, one animal might last 10-14 days. That was when I would see her doing patch work under an old study lamp an hour or so before she would close for the day.

She is knowledgeable about animal facts - the culinary kind. I asked about liver, it supplies iron. She said all pieces were booked always. She sold them by the kilo at whole sale price. Kidneys? That too, restaurants would stock them as the older generation considered it to be a delicacy. Interestingly, penises were in demand for medicinal use. The most unexpected call she had was someone asking for animal teeth. I laughed with her, neither of us could imagine a common use. She deflected that call by giving a few phone numbers of the eateries that brewed stock from animal heads.

Recently I thought of her, in the year 2000 way before COVID, she was already practising social distancing. She would hand me the meat packs in a bag, collect my payment and give me the change standing at least three feet behind the grill door. Yet I can't say she was unfriendly. She would often voluntarily suggest how I should cook that batch of meat according to the prcentage of fat. For a woman with means, she was peaceable, contented, and quite happy to serve a customer like me who run in and run off within three minutes.

(1312)Thought of a faraway friend from long ago

Now I am back in the north-eastern part of Borneo since July 2020. We are currently under a third lock-down due to COVID. In between house work, cooking abd writing, I resorted to reading Time and Newsweek magazines from years past. A word smith has to hone her craft. Since libraries are closed, I would read whatever at hand.

The latest copy I read was Newsweek from 2007. It was the copy that honoured the American Military personnel that died in Iraq. Most of the photographs were of young male, 18-30 years old. Of course there were of older male and a few female soldiers, but the numbers were low.

Thoughts flew back to the summer of 1984. I was in Texas housesitting before college term started. Apart from a cat and a few phone calls, it was like a silent retreat. As I picked up a few calls and took down messages, I started chatting with a Navy pilot based in San Antonio. He was a contact of my host, a General in reserve. We met once in church while my host went to speak in a nearby town. At that point of time an offer was made to enrol me in University of Texas in Arlington. Even though the finance part was taken care of, circumstances were such that with a grateful heart I declined the offer and left to go home. It was sad that I was not able to stay on in Texas to continue the accidental friendship.

Sitting on a balcony surrounded by constant drizzle, the fifth rainy day in a week, I wonder if my friend was well. It was unlikely he would be a statistic in the gulf. It was most unlikely he would be in the land battle. Also his age group did not co-incide with the fatal statistics. I am glad. If he survived the Middle Eastern conflicts, he should retire next year. I wish him and all my American friends well in this turbulent time.

(1311)Hiding an abused wife

I have an old friend who believes that one day she would run an abused women's home. For a single mother who brought up one son with a good job in Singapore, she is now free to run her rooming house and live in any way as she is pleased. After all, her rental surplus is more than her simple needs. What her son sends her just goes into the bank in case there is a rainy day later.

This lady has a sister who was my next door neighbour for fifteen years. Let us call the neighbor Betty. Betty brought up three children with the help of her mum after her ex-husband committed bigamy. Now and then I see Betty having guests, one who was a cousin from Kedah; another who was a school friend from Penang. Living in a big city, even as neighbours we might not see each other for a week or ten days. Our schedules varied as she worked full time but I was a homemaker with grown children. There was one guest whom I did not meet but caught a glimpse of getting into Betty's small car. I just assumed it was one of her cousins from up north.

It was Betty's sister who met that guest somehow. The latter just run away from an abusive husband living in Seremban, about one hour by highway south of where we lived. For some reason, she confided in my friend. When Betty met the abused victim over dinner and learnt of her predicament, my good neighbour open her heart and her home to this person. Within the week, the stranger's family in Penang arranged to have the runaway work for a distant relative as a companion to an elderly woman. That way, she could hide from her abuser as well as save some money for a formal divorce. The episode ended happily as the abused ran to Johor, four hours away southwards before Singapore.

Having lived a rather sheltered life, I was shocked to hear that 1. strangers rise up to help a complete stranger. 2. Betty managed to time her comings and goings for a whole week so as to protect the privacy of the abused. 3. No one suspected anything, most of us were used to her having guests off and on as she was a most hospitable person and cooked lovely meals. 4. Until today, Betty never uttered a word of that incident to me.

In case you were wondering, around that time Betty's sister was studying in a Theological College and rented a tiny room near the college. There was no way she could accomodate the stranger without her landlady's consent.

(1310) Circuit breaker

I came back from buying breakfast. It was overcast and has been raining six nights consecutively. Thank goodness we live on high ground and are less than 3 km away from the coast. Else we would have been evacuated as flood victims.

To have a meal, I switched on the overhead light. Oh-oh! The line tripped. As I quickly switched it off as soon as I realized what happened, my son went to the mains to reset the offending switch. We were dismayed that the freezer unit did not kick on. It was full of uncooked meat. Our landlady is a caterer. The long deep freezer is probably holding $5,000 worth of red meat.

On top of low customer demand and the fast approaching Chinese New Year, she does not need anymore worries. I quickly laid hand on the affected freezer and prayed a restoration prayer. We looked at each other and decided to eat our early meal before deciding to call her with the bad news. After all, a functioning freezer could hold its own for about 8 hours even if there is a black out.

Lo and behold, as I was swallowing my last mouthful of fried noodle, the freezer kicked in. I wasn't sure and went to touch it to feel the vibration that should be there. My son was jubilant! He knew each freezer intimately by its individual whirring sound. Thank God it worked on, thus delaying the inevitable evil day. We prayed it will not stop working until every last piece of meat is cooked. After all, it is a most hardy machine that lasted at least 10 years. May it take the final rest when the owner does not need it after the peak period.

(1309) Legendary Borgia

A friend told me her neighbour's child returned home from a great aunt's with plates, bowls and other crockery pieces. Moments later I recalled a story I heard seated on my grandma's lap many years ago.

Long ago and far away in a great city of China, an important man with everything he could want in life lost his wife in childbirth. What could he do? There were five children left by his beloved wife. After mourning for a year, he looked for a second wife. The matchmakers looked high and low and found a match.

The seemingly perfect second wife arrived with an entire set of kitchen ware. The cook's husband was the master's coach man. He was sent to ask the master as to what he wanted to use: his old dishes or his new wife's. The master asked his new wife why she brought what she brought. She answered that her forebears were master porcelain makers. Those were her dowry, actually family heirlooms. She tactfully said that they were only meant for display.

Life went on. The second wife was good to her stepchildren. Her own children were born by and by. Then tragedy struck, the eldest step child, a girl of fifteen years old, died. It was an unexplained death. The girl was not sick, she died in the night. The serving maid noticed that the stepmother cooked one dish that evening, but the entire household partook of it. Anyway she was a humble servant and kept her peace.

The second child of the first wife was a boy. The servant boy who served this young master happened to be a younger brother of the serving maid mentioned above. A year later, the stepmother cooked a delicious dessert and served everyone in the household after dinner but before bed time. The humble but observant serving maid noticed her mistress took out an ornate bowl from the display cabinet to serve the young master's portion. She hurriedly took it to her brother, whispered that young master should not consume it. This interference actually saved the young man's life.

Five years flew by, child number three and four who were girls, both died at different times and in different ways. By now, there were three people who suspected the stepmother: the serving girl, her brother and the young master. On the eve of the young master's departure to take the Imperial Examination, the serving girl quietly packed a few sets of clothing for the youngest girl of the first wife. The maid's brother secretly placed the bundle amongst the young master's luggage. At the last minute, the fifth child was bundled into the carriage and taken away.

Young master passed the examination and became a Magistrate in a nearby town. His youngest sister from the same mother was safe at the maternal grandma's house. The Master, who had a second wife, seemed to accept his daughter's long visit in her mother's childhood home.

Years passed, the small girl grew up under her grandma's care. In the traditional way, a match was made and the stepmother persuaded her husband to throw a big wedding do in their home for the nuptial of this daughter. It was a good thing her brother the magistrate heard about it. He reacted by taking his sister straight to his own home, and quietly held her wedding there. A court case ensued: the father sued the son for kidnapping his precious daughter, son sued the father as accessory with his second wife to the murder of three daughters. The Emperor's physicians, porcelain experts, poison experts... were all called as expert witnesses to carefully examine and inspect all possible evidence available. All three tombs of dead stepdaughters were exhumed, and it was found that each of the three girls had died of ingested poisoning. Their bones showed without a doubt that poison had been administered over a period of time before leading to their deaths.

Apparently, certain rare color pigments used to decorate expensive bone ware not fully fired in the kiln, were poisonous to humans. But if one served ordinary food on it, no one would suffer. It took an initiated person to cook a common dish with unusual ingredients to bring out the poison in the utensil. The second wife came from a family with such knowledge. Had she been able to have her way, every single one of the first wife's children would have perished, yet each death would occur at a different time in varied ways. Needless to say, she spent the rest of her life behind bars.

(1308) Free

I have spent most of my life in Peninsular Malaysia. Though third world, plumbing works there. Here in northern Borneo, I live in an eight hundred thousand dollar(local currency) building. The only clean water tap head we use is connected to a water storage drum, blue in colour. There is no stop cork switch in between the drum and the tap head. Hence there was no way of repairing the tap unless one switches off the mains and drains the drum completely.

Well, the building is superbly situated in a safe and prosperous area. Electrical supply is relatively stable compared to surrounding areas. Wi Fi signals are better than all our friend's. Whatever we need, we could get it by walking to nearby shops. I did not appreciate these wonderful good points until Movement Restriction Order. For weeks we were house bound. Then the head of household could go out and buy essentials. I was a prisoner freed to walk around all the shops, holding some food purchases. It was wonderful to be free to walk around again.

(1307) Survive

In Grade 6 I was in charged of the corridor notice board. My teacher advisor told me to visit an exibition down town and write a report to be pinned on the board.

What could I do? I dared not venture into the big bad city alone. The deadline drew nearer and I was getting depressed. My good friend advised me to look out for the newspaper coverage and adapt from there. Out came my rescuer, an unlikely person who was from the fringe of my group. She volunteered to accompanied me there and back. We will call her Kimberly here.

We visited the exibition and I took notes for the report. On the way back, she pulled me into a road that led to the police station. I was puzzled. There was a tea stall under a tree next to the police gate. We sat down and she ordered a glass of milk tea. When the boy delivered the tea, she talked to him in rapid fire Malay. She helped her mom in the wet market and was fluent in market Malay. The boy related what she said to the owner of the stall. The latter hurried and said a few reassuring words.

A group of policemen came sat down. The owner served them and must have said something to them. They turned and stared at the suspicious character that my friend detected and we changed route to avoid him. One hefty police stood up and walked towards the thin, shifty looking guy. The latter ran out of sight. A pair of jovial policemen walked us to the nearest bus stop. We hopped up the very next bus that was heading to the station.

Today Kimberly owned a factory and a showroom dealing with automobile fittings. It was abundantly clear that at age 12 she was a most resourceful person.

(1306) Tumour

Lately the food served during breakfast came out late for a few days. At first I attributed it to heavy rains in the mornings. Yesterday I turned up at 7:15am, only one noodle was fried and three side dishes were out. They were: eggs sunny side up, bitter gourd stuffed with fish meat and brinjal cooked as the gourd. I was surprised. The customer in front of me asked why they were so very late. The lady boss said her cook was on MC. He had a tumour in his neck. The assistant cook and the cook's boy were having a hard time filling in. Normally at 7:00am there were at least three types of noodles and at least 8 dishes. Besides those three listed above, we have deep fried egg roll, curry taufu pok (fried tofu stuffed), fried pork hakka style, barbecue meat slices, and squid in dark sauce.

This is the second cook I knew of taken ill. The first one had an abcess in his abdomen.He elected to return to his village in the interior and not trust government surgeons. One restaurant owner called it occupational disease. Most cooks have been apprenticed from age twelve. They were usually from poor families. The position in the kitchen enabled them to have much opportunity to eat what they like, within reasons. The consumption of unlimited food bad for them over time bred ill health. A skillful cook earns $1,200 per month with housing, two meals a day and sometimes a second hand car for marketing. That is considered good remuneration here for a local who did not get an educational certificate at age 17.

(1305) Birds

Being confined to a building for weeks at a stretch actually allowed me to be observant of animal life in the neighbourhood. Gangs of sparrows flitted from the roof to the window grills. Pigeons haunted the eateries looking for handouts. Swiftlets nested in the nooks of untenanted corridors. A pair of hawks flew high in the sky floating on thermals. Black birds with orange beaks, the type that could be trained to imitate human speech, roamed on the green lawn. Two wild chickens, which annoyed the delivery boys by pecking on their shoe lace, were shooed away. Last of all a pair of nesting yellow wag tails lived nearby, but moved after my close observation for too many days.

For a busy commercial area, I am blessed with such a wide range of wild birds. Oh, I forgot about the many white cranes hanging around the pond. It sounded like a wild life sanctuary, didn't it? Thankful for the many bird songs, I threw egg shells broken into bits and papaya skin cut into shreds near the pond for them. That is my bit of conservation effort.

(1304) Scaling

A

While still under Conditional Movement Restriction Order, I have a lot of free time to watch the park like area in front of where I live.

Three days ago I was highly entertained by 2 wild chickens' repeated attempts to get to the top of a huge lorry parked in the open area. After many attempts, one black chicken was standing on the metal bar under the front lights. The other one managed to perch on the windscreen wiper. After four failed attempts to jump higher, it did manage to reach the top of the cab for a few seconds. However, the metal paint on top was too slippery for the chicken's claws. It fell all of 6 feet to the grass.

All these happened within 40 minutes or so. I used to think that chickens were impulsive animals. After this I realise one or two could be quite persistent. There was no food on top of the cab. Why did the chickens tried hard to achieve such a difficult feat? Indeed why do we climb mountains?

(1303) No Deal

There was a couple who taught in China for a year. It was in a small town of a poor province up north. According to them, every parent they met with wanted their children to learn English. Therefor private entities sprouted out all over to meet that demand. That couple was in touch with a private tour agency which took care of their visa from Hong Kong.

They came back to their minor town and reported their experience to their church. Indeed the harvest field was white, but the workers are few. They presented evidences of people saved, bible study and discipleship classes completed. It was interesting how church leaders pointed them to South Asia. The enthusiastic couple retorted that they knew not a word of that language. Had the church been able to find a suitable language tutor, they would start language lesson that very night. They walked off, deeply diappointed at the throat constricting national policy of short visits to one or two target countries only.

Two years later, I heard that they joined a different denomination and turned to work with migrant workers. Looking at the narrow mindedness of the leaders in the first group, they could be thirty years away from dying. Perhaps the millions invested into church buildings would be sold to be used in other ways as the old believers die. Of course mismanagement of funds could occur in Buddhist temples, Hindu kuils, Moslem mosques or other religious edifice. It really is a human condition, nothing to do with any specific religion.

(1302) Adoption years ago

This is a story of adoption in the era around 1916.

A couple was childless. They adopted two girls as infants. Next they negotiated the adoption of a 6 year old boy. The boy's mother died of consumption. The poor widower father hurt his back as a coolie. He was about to return to his hometown in China as a cripple. His son refused to leave with him.

Since the prospective adoptive dad was rich, he actually sum up 1. a one way ship ticket 2. the cost price of a healthy horse 3. 6 months of wages earned by a farm hand. The grand total was given as a one-time gift to the crippled father. It was the means to a new life. The transaction was not human trfficking. The adoptive parents wanted a son to carry on the family name. The crippled man wanted to return to the shelter of his family. It was an amicable exchange. A document was drawn up, both men signed it in front of a commissioner of oath and a local business leader.

As far as I know, the adopted son died in the 1990s.

(1301)Life Bores Dreams Galore

Lately a few minibus drivers caught COVID. As a result, the entire private minibus service to town was halted. Therefore I no longer am able to get new books from the public library in town.

The brain is a marvelous organ. What drama I lacked in real life began to appear as dreams at night. Let me relate a hilarious one from this morning, right before I woke up. I was brought in as a Chinese language examiner taking part in a meet-the-missionary-candidates to China. (Really this could be the worst time to send missionary to China as there was a wave of crackdowns and deportations.)

It was raining cats and dogs during the dinner date. Yet dinner was still served in the garden! It was an interesting sight seeing the wives of leaders and other serving ladies in rain gear and holding umbrellas.If that was not funny enough, the tables began to sink into the swilling mud. That was a frightening sight! Just like in most dreams, there was no logic. Folks rescued the best vase, picked up the most expensive crystal goblets... The person in charged was calmly telling me that the boss had ten tables like that. Well! If you say so, I thought. Three tables disappeared from sight. In the impossible way of dreams, it was like a job done on an ordinary day. Everyone was very matter of fact dealing with the situation.

The usual questions were asked during dinner. The expected answers were given. Meanwhile, we ladies were observing and choosing our own candidates. For example, the number two candidate just won't do as he seemed a most finicky eater who picked at his food. The Chinese as a race places great emphasis on enjoying good food. To fit in as a missionary in China, one should love food. Well, number five should not go as he was visually undressing every shapely lady server. Number seven was just going along with everything for a subsidised trip, anyway.

But of course not a single decision maker was of the fairer sex. Perhaps ten to twenty thousand dollars would be spent sending a test team to some busy, impersonal part of a city in China. No harm was done. After all, there was still a lot more money left in the coffers yet.

(1300)Fried Rice (Three)

During my college years, one of my hostesses taught me how to mass produce Vietnamese egg rolls. Her church ladies sold it every Sunday afternoons in front of different supermarkets to raise funds in aid of new Vietnamese refugees in town.

Armed with the know-how of frying rice and egg-roll making, I had cooked for every host family I visited. Usually I would choose a Friday dinner to take advantage of using leftovers and excess ingredients in the fridge. Most mistresses of the kitchens appreciated this conversion of odds and ends into a delicious main meal.

It was during one of these visits that I used an electrical wok. That enabled me to stirfry, which was normally impossible with frying pans. Minor frying could be done using a heavy base stainless steel soup pot. Till now I could walk into any kitchen and hustle up a simple meal should the need ever arise.

(1299)Fried Rice (Two)

Once I smuggled a bowl of Asian student fried rice to our affable cafeteria manager. I didn't realise he shared it with four other cooks.

Thereafter before an Asian fare was attempted, someone would ask me about things that was not clear. Actually I knew nothing about Japanese and Korean food. They were not commonly available in the seventies in my country. Since I could hardly be called a cook, I rounded up my Chinese counterpart, my fellow Malaysian and a Pakistani senior to answer all of their queries.It was really funny to see professional cooks taking cooking tips from them about ethnic cuisines.

In my senior(4th) year, I had a floor mate who was 67 years old. She rallied a few Starkiens (students housed in a former infirmary) and we produced a special meal out of individual donations of food, money or labour. I remembered the cafeteria manager was invited and he was really impressed. It was a delicious meal, cooked by six students, representing Virginia, New England, Southern and Texas cuisine. It was a meal no single household could offer because of the diversity and authentic recipes used.

I was the vegetable washer and cutter for the 7-layered salad. I must say that it was the best salad I had ever tasted in my entire life because of the secret sauce made from the recipe of Betty's grandma.

Subsequent to that meal, I was asked to demonstrate the Asian way of slicing broccoli and cauliflower into bite-size twigs or florets. I had thought that commercial or mass cooking would not allow such a technique. Imagine that during one of the last meals I had in college, the cooking staff took the trouble to slice their cauliflower the Asian way for a side dish. It was beautiful and it tasted much better. Perhaps that was why a homogenously white college would offer finantial aid and scholarships to attract international students to be represented in its midst.

(1298)Fried Rice (One)

As a teenager at home, I avoided the kitchen. Believe me, kitchens and implements are fraught with perils for a dyslexic. I have had a life-long handicap, when combining sequential actions with time factor built in, would always rattle me and reduce me to accidents and tears.

As a foreign student in North America, I missed rice. It was so bad that I dreamed often about Yong Chow Fried Rice. Every opportunity I had, I would cook a student version of fried rice. My partners in the dormitory kitchens were Choo Lien Li from China and Cookie Lee from a city 200km from my hometown. Cookie was a name given by a Cypriot fellow student. We would pool our resources and walk 2km to buy cheap ingredients. A bag of long grain rice would cost $1.12. Two big onions would cost $0.25. A tray of minced meat could be $2.83. A thin stack of egg roll wrappers could be $1.75. With that, we could have a feast of American college fried rice and deep fried wantons. I would volunteer to walk to Kroger. After one disaster of burning something, I was relegated to only wrapping wantons and dish washing.

We were each really tiny in size. Yet with a few dorm mates sampling our food,there was nothing left of what we cooked, except some uncooked rice. None of us were plump. But how we could eat! We really enjoyed our own cuisine. I forgot to mention that the cooking oil came from our appreciative food tester Marion who lived in Okinawa for two years. Soy cauce came from Katherine the self-professed Chinese-take-out queen. Tabasco sauce came from Lee's room mate who loved Cajun food. For readers who tried to estimate the cost, each partner paid $2.00. There was five cents or a nickle left for the next purchasing trip.

(1297)Early Tutoring

I am the youngest child in my family. However, when my elder cousin was born, her parents were living with us. It was exciting and such a joy to have a newborn in the house.

When my cousin was three, her little family moved a block away with my grandma. Each morning grandma would come visit with her and stay for lunch. One Saturday, they did not turn up. By ten o'clock mom sent me over with some freshly cooked braised pork to check on them. You could blow me over with a feather, I saw my cousin sitting on a 6-inch plastic seat on a normal dinner chair. She was being tutored in Arithmetic. My aunt shrugged and said she did all she could, but my cousin still could not comprehend addition and subtraction. It was time to bring in an experienced teacher to help.

Tutoring a pre-school child was unheard of in the early seventies. Around that time I started tutoring an 11-year-old boy in English. It was a close-to-impossible task, as I taught and retaught simple vocabulary and tenses week after week. I was 13 years old that year. Even at that time I realised a person may be good at some things but quite slow in others. My pupil was slow in picking up English but good in Math and Science taught in Chinese. Perhaps it was a good idea to start early. After all, family yarns credited me with the ability to count up to 100 coconut sweets accurately at age three. It was perfectly reasonable to expect my cousin to be able to add single digits at the age of three.

Half a century has passed. Looking back, my cousin was a most fortunate little girl. Her mum had actually implemented early intervention. Chances were nobody did call her stupid nor laugh at her weakness in arithmetic. Truly she never excelled in maths, but she did not fail. She dropped the subject as soon as she could.

(1296)The Sneer

Sofia, who normally has much to say, confessed that even she was unable to correct Lucas when there was a certain look on his face. Lucas was Ben's playmate and Ben is Sofia's son. Each boy was often found at each other's house during the weekends and holidays.

This was what was said during a ladies' meeting. Quite a few ladies ended what they were saying quite abruptly to hear about this look that would even stop Sofia's ever flowing commentary. According to Sofia, It was a certain curling of Lucas' lips. She attempted to purse her lips in imitation of the 10-year-old's expression.

When I got home, I asked my husband and Keziah (my last school-going child). The former could not catch head nor tail of what I was saying. Keziah, however, had seen that look. She was a few years older than Lucas and was friends with Lucas' sister. Keziah had noticed Lucas sneering at his sister once. Keziah was of the opinion that when Lucas sneered, one should stop talking and save one's breath. Nothing would go into his thick skull just then.

All that happened a good 14 years ago. Interestingly after Lucas graduated, he asked for a year's break. His family gave him six months to rest. At that point of time, no one thought that those particular six months would be of any significanse. Yet as events developed, his sixth month ended on March 2020, the very month that COVID-19 hit Malaysia with the first wave. Most people were forced to work from home unless they were in what the Government termed essential industry. It is now November 2020, Lucas did get his one entire year of break and more. Yet with the economy stagnating and perhaps even shrinking in certain sectors, how was he going to get a job as a fresh graduate with no working experience?

I would not call Lucas stiff-necked, yet he could be rather hard headed sometimes. Perhaps it was not by chance that he was handed a difficult hand in his young life.

(1295)Three Million

Chatting with my fashionable friends in the capital city, it seemed folks were saying it would take three million in investment before a couple could safely retire for life.

Depending on the interest rate, that meant $10,000 to $12,000 a month, an annual income of maybe $144,000. With that amount of disposable cash, one could have a graduate Filipino maid. Living next to a golf course would not be a hiccup. Master and Mistress could run separate cars. Club and gym membership would cause no sweat. Missus could still purchase a branded new handbag every 6 months or so. Yearly vacation overseas would be a given. Eating out a few times a week at premium places would enhance one's lifestyle.

The strange thing is, I have known quite a few millionairesses, who lived quite near the bare bone right above the poverty level. There was Crystal's friend Rea, whom everyone thought Rea was as poor as a church mouse. She died of a massive stroke while watching a black and white TV given by a well-wisher. After the bodies (Rea and her invalid mom) were removed by the authorities, bank books and deposit certificates were found in the master bedroom as well as ten title deeds of shop buildings in Silver City. Mother and daughter jointly owned no less than $10 million cash, apart from receiving rent from pricey real estate.

In 2008, Madam Loi who helped manage Soo Peng's finance said the latter had $3.5 million. Among friends, everyone encouraged her to buy a new condo and hire a maid. There was not much point in hoarding that amount as she was well over 60 years old. All our advice remained useless words. Soo Peng lived in her deceased parents' old house and bickered with her sisters over a few cents. Recently we heard of her passing, she was the very last of her family to depart. We wondered how her wealth would affect her maid, lawyer, her many nieces and nephews; or would the government benefit?

I have a good friend who was known for the congenial parties she threw while we were single. Once she inherited millions from her dad, she somehow became another person. I wonder if she was still counting thirty-five cents in Perth? Her poor Indonesian maid was reprimanded for boiling an extra egg one lunch time.

A final thought: what is going to happen to Soo Peng's sisters' ashes kept in urns behind the coffin shop in Silver City? Did Soo Peng really left instructions in her will to finally put them to rest in a proper place? Money could be used as a good tool. But it could also become Mammon the slave driver, if a person becomes obssessed over it.

(1294)Shanghai

One of my daughters found a part-time job with a Shanghainese woman. My deceased grandma used to say that out of the entire mainland China, Shanghainese women were the hardest nuts to crack. When I met Choo Lien in Virginia, she was the very first Shanghainese I met. After about a year of being friends, one day I asked her if that statement was true in China. She did not deny it but claimed that her mum and her were different because they followed Jesus. I asked what about Beijing or Nanking, why was it that the women in mega cities did not get that reputation? She said that for hundreds of years Shanghai had been a cosmopolitan port. It was very difficult for women to survive there, especially women who worked at selling things on the street. It took ruthlessness, persistence and ingenuity to exist and bringing up offspring there.

The thought of surviving in pre-Communist China brought to mind that it was not easy to survive after the takeover. My uncle, who lived most of his life in Mainland China, said that the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution had killed off virtually all the upright, brave or courageous people in that country. To me, he was upright, honest and principled, at least that was my impression as a 33 year old niece visiting. He replied that he owed his life to his politically savvy wife. There were many instances where she had stopped him from acting out or speaking up during those turbulent and terrible days.

We see China as the economic power house and I was really tickled when I heard that Saudi Arabia has made Chinese the compulsory second language in their schools. With Covid-19 rampaging, it is most unlikely I would visit China in the forseeable future.

(1293)#Golden Rule

During my happy sojourn of 12 years in Silver City, a good portion of my weekday afternoons were spent in Angeline's kitchen. She is a practical homemaker like I am. We are both fond of our children, keep our houses reasonably clean, and cook because we need to eat.

Her husband was a regional manager in his field who often travelled to distant cities for meetings. He invariably brought back sachets of green tea from those five star hotels he stayed in. Angeline kept them carefully, as our afternoon's highlight was those two cups of hot green tea. Sometimes she took the first infusion, other times she gave me the better cup. So we keep ourselves to one tea bag per afternoon, maybe two or three visits a week.

Contrasting her to my mother-in-law, the latter would serve herself the best of every item before everyone else. Of course with a table full of yummy dishes cooked at home or restaurant-bought, it did not matter who took what. At the end of the meal, everybody would be satiated and happy. Yesterday I looked at Angeline's Facebook update, I saw a photo of her family, including a new son-in-law and her lovely daughter-in-law with two grandchildren. We seldom talk now because she resides in Singapore. As the border is practically closed, we probably would not see each other, whether this year or the next. Knowing her, she practises the golden rule with everyone around her. I have no doubt that both her daughter-in-law and son-in-law would be very fond of her.

(1292)Branding Talent

We are facing a mild form of lockdown now in Sabah. Daily I find myself relating my childhood incidences to my son.

My scientist brother was a rather accomplished woodworker since he was in primary school. He built a school desk, chair, a book shelf and a wooden box. The school desk broke after our move from Petaling Jaya to Ara Damansara. The school chair is still being used in front of my mum's house. The bookshelf has been downgraded to hold slippers. I think the box must have finally found its way to the maker's storeroom.

When my cousin was three years old, she was fascinated with the school desk. It was of a design that opened the drawer from the top. As she was playing with the swinging top, she asked me,"Who made this?" Getting the answer, she went to ask my finance brother what he did make. He pointed to the aquarium holding guppies. My cute cousin asked me with wide eyes,"What did you make?" I indicated my simple blouse and skirt as well as the big bow on her head. Being mischievous, I asked her what would she make? Using wood and nails? Using cement and glass? Or using cloth and ribbons?

She pondered for a minute. She rubbed her forehead and said,"I make stories with exciting words in my brain." Today she is a noted talent in Branding.

(1291)Wasp Nest

When I was a preschooler, I asked my dad why did he removed all wasps' nest, but left a bird nest built under the eaves alone. We lived in one unit of a long row of wooden houses back then. My dad explained that wasps stung people, therefore we do not want any wasps living in close proximity. Birds are friendly creatures. We should be highly honoured if wild birds chose to nest next to our house. He went on to talk about how smart animals are. Birds would not nest in flood-prone areas. They would choose to nest near kindly and peaceful folks who live in harmony with nature.

My second brother heard that and went investigating. There was a neighbour living nearby that we nicknamed Fierce Mother Hen. She was quarrelsome with her own family, and often found fault with the others who lived nearby. My brother and I certainly did not find a single wasp nest in front, nor behind her house. Of course no bird would nest in her back yard as she chased all of them away. The interesting fact was that we could not find any trace of ants crawling towards, or away from outside her house. It seemed all kinds of ants avoided her house totally. From chatting with her children, I found that she would constantly scald every ant in sight with boiling water. After living there for a few years, one day the family moved away suddenly. Apparently white ants (termites) proliferated in that unit since no other ants went there. The unfortunate lady's furniture was damaged. The landlord evicted them to repair the structural damage caused by termites.

It was true what the ancient Chinese wrote about animals and humans co-existing side by side in texts recorded hundreds of years ago. My dad read widely although he did not have much schooling. That was a long time before the modern terms like being green, environmentally friendly, limiting our carbon footprint... My brother who was interested in our environment as a child is today a scientist specialising in electronic engineering. I, who was curious and being a chatterbox as a little girl, am still interested in people and often write articles describing human foibles. This morning I found my son removing wasp nests built right by my front door. I found myself telling him the lessons my dad taught me more than half a century ago.

(1290)Being grateful

I was chatting with my local friend in Starbucks. The phrase of 'gratefulness despite bad fortune' brought out my tale of the Indonesian friend who received most of my household goods in 2017 (as recorded in a much earlier blog post). My friend asked me where is the Indonesian friend now?

Well! She could be in Tivoli in her own tiny wooden house near the airport. Or she could be in her elder son's plantation looking after grandchildren, that would be about two hours by car from the former capital of Borneo. Possibly she could be with her second son in Sembawang. But wherever she could be, she would no longer be travelling by public bus from town to town. Her work permit has expired. She is too old now to qualify for legal employment. As an illegal person she has to be mindful of staying below the radar. By now she has spent slightly more than half of her life working legally in this state. It is very sad that a law-abiding person like her could not apply for proper residency permit to stay on. Both her sons work here on permits. It simply would not make sense for her to go back to a country she has no one close enough, to return to.

(1289)#Tiger Mom

I met and befriended a widow while I stayed near the General Hospital in Silver City. She was a kind soul. Although she was 76 years old, she regularly shopped for the shut-ins within walking distance of her house. One of her 'clients' was an 87-year old, a mother of 10 children. The "client's" husband died ten years before that. Her surviving children were six boys, and two girls. Somehow, out of that, she was estranged from all her sons. Still, the eldest daughter came to wash the old mother's clothes twice a week. This daughter was 68 years old. The youngest daughter would come once a month from a city two hours away, bearing rice and other staples. The 'client' must have treated each child differently. What had happened to the six sons and their families? Why did each of the six leave their aged mother to live alone, never visiting or sending money? I could not even guess what had happened, until I met Mei Ling in China while visiting my uncle's family. Mei Ling worked as an hourly-paid maid for a few families in the neighbourhood. She had five children, three daughters and two sons.

First came Fish and Veron, a pair of identical twins girls. They were both qualified accountants. Next we have Apple, a female teacher posted to Tibet. The fourth, Archie and the youngest, Jude, were adopted fraternal twins. Both were lawyers, Archie worked in Shanghai, and Jude in Beijing.

All these grown children had good jobs and were married. One would think that Mei Ling would be living in clover. As things went, Mom made Fish and Veron work hard for many, many years, to pay for their younger siblings' education. Once the youngest graduated, Mei Ling released the accountants from supporting her, for life.

Perhaps because a teacher earned far less than accountants, Mei Ling did not ask for monthly contribution from Apple. Every year she visited Tibet and enjoyed being taken on sightseeing trips. Archie, the elder twin, sent two hundred Yuan every month to Mom, citing high living standards in Shanghai. Jude sent one hundred from Beijing, giving the reason that his wife earned far less than him. Poor Mei Ling could not live on their three hundred and her little pension, therefore she went out to oblige her richer neighbours. It was interesting to note that the further away an offspring lived from old mum, the latter thought better of him or her and did not expect too much from them. As Fish and Veron lived close by, the old lady expected far too much, and kept finding fault with them. The mother could not say one thing good about either of them. She was proud of the two lawyers who were far away from her, and sang praises of the teacher who hosted her yearly. Listening to Mei Ling abusing the two nearby daughters verbally, I could sympathise with them for being wary of her.

Going back to my widow friend's 'client', I will describe an update I heard recently:- The number 7 son came back to visit his old mum with thoughtful, though not very costly gifts. A neighbour happened to be visiting the old ady and witnessed the entire incident. Old mum was sarcastic and abusive in her comments. When the son gave her an ang pow (red packet containing money), she opened it and found four $50 bills. She was livid, all of his small gifts and the money from the red packet, was flung out of her door. She shouted a tirade of abuses and scolded him for giving her so little to last a whole year. The poor young man picked up the money, bundled up the gifts and walked sadly away to wait for a bus. He was poor, and had saved for an entire year to come back to see his aged mum. It would mean a trip on three different buses, before he would finally reach his rented room half a day later in a far-off city.

(1286)Semi-Charmed Kind of Life

My friend's daughter was spoilt by the latter's grandparents.

When both old folks passed on, she went to her parent's and raised havoc. As a 23-year-old, she had not worked outside the house before. There was no physical deformity. Neither was she mentally unhinged.

For a few months, she went into a charity training program to become a hairdresser. That did not last long as she quarrelled with the trainers. For a week, she tried to work for an NGO (non-government organisation) running a soup kitchen. There were disagreements with the founder. For another week, she went to help as an intern in a farm in Kedah. She was set to return there for a 3-month stint on a small stipend. But alas, she also fell out with the manager.

Other posts did not last more than 4 days. Sometimes she was dismissed, and other times she resigned in a huff. Therefore when she obtained a temporary position, hourly paid, in the midst of a COVID shutdown, none of us dared to hope it would last.

Of course friends and well-wishers have been praying for her for months. The night before the second shut down of the nation's capital, I woke to full alertness at 3am and started praying for her employers. Right before sunrise, I had such peace in my heart that I knew all would be well. At that moment, there was a sense that if within 24 hours she did not leave her hostel, she would stay at that job for at least 3 months. As things developed, she did not quit. During the lock down, no one could legally transport her and her belongings across state lines. Neither could she take the subway if she was not going to work at an essential job. Should anyone be caught, it would mean $1000 fine and jail time. Going to jail is eesentially a guarantee of catching COVID. Punishment would be meted out to transporter and passenger alike. Circumstances were such, that she was forced to stay through the difficult teething period of adjusting to a new job. Not even a spoiled brat could escape from the hand of God, even though she led a charmed life for the past 23 years.

(1285)Saga of a Foreign Wife

I met her when I started teaching Drama in an after-school adventure centre. She hailed from Pakistan. Apparently, at the 'ripe' old age of 26, she was a disgrace to her parents because nobody asked for her hand in marriage.

Her parents prepared to send her to an arranged marriage in Malaysia. Before she met her husband, she knew 3 things about him: his parents are rich, he is single and he has no criminal records. Her mom spent hours, and thousands preparing her dowry. She was given gold and jewels, hidden from prying eyes, so that if everything failed and she was alone in a strange land, she would have enough valuables to pawn, to pay for her own airfare to safely fly home. Her parents shed much tears, they were old and infirm, she was their only beloved sole daughter, apart from six sons. On top of that, she was the youngest.

As my acquaintance with Mrs Sahar deepened, her entire life story poured out of her like a waterfall. Her husband could not keep any job to feed himself, much less his wife and children. Her position in the house was worse than that of a normal nanny. As soon as her younger son left for an education in Britain, her mother-in-law told her to get employment immediately, or else her in-laws would stop feeding her. That day, she spent her bath time crying, bewailing her fate, trying to decide if it was the right time to go back to Pakistan.

A stubborn side of her rose up and protested angrily: No! I'm not going to run away and lose my sons. She has two tall, handsome, intelligent and kind boys. The very next day, she started her quest to look for a job. It was by no means easy, as she had no need to work in Pakistan. All of her years in Malaysia, was spent slaving in the kitchen and serving her in-laws' household. At 56 years old, holding a red IC(permanent resident), who would want to hire her, a woman with no qualifications or work experience?

There were two things in her favour, she speaks excellent English and she drives. The following week after that ultimatum, she meekly drove her mother-in-law around town. After entering a coffee shop, the mean old lady would not even allow her to order a drink, so she excused herself and walked to a nearby bookshop. After all, her husband had asked her to buy 3 receipt books. She took her own sweet time browsing and making her purchase. On her way back to the coffee shop, she saw a help wanted ad, for a receptionist at an after-school centre. That was how she came to be employed. Being bright, cheerful and friendly, she made many new friends, myeself being one of her moral supporters, during her interlude of being persecuted by her mother-in-law, or getting bullied by our boss.

Mrs Sahar owned an old Nokia handphone. Soon, only a select few of us(teachers and mothers), would call her to check on her status. One of us taught her how to wrangle a pay increase. She was initially paid $450 (no EPF, no socso) monthly for 4 hours of work, six days a week (Monday being our rest day). But by the time she was working 8 straight hours for six days a week, her pay stayed the same. Incidentally, our boss did not have Mrs Sahar's telephone contact, both landline or handphone, as Mrs Sahar claimed both she and her husband were renting a room together on her employment form. Her husband and her mother-in-law planned a one-week trip out o town to attend a wedding. she boldly took no-pay leave to supposedly "care" for her father-in-law at home. In actual fact, Mrs Sahar left the house for work, but drove to and hid in a young mother's house near the after-school centre. A few of us had scouted out the route she would take and found a hiding spot for her to park her old junk of her car out of sight, from both her in-law and our boss. Mrs Sahar was so good with the babies and super efficient i nthe kitchen, that the grateful mother willingly paid her $200 for her one week's help.

At the end of that one week, Mrs Sahar tried to extend for another 3 days, but our boss threatened to fire her. She had full confidence of getting another job. After negotiating back-and-forth, in the end, our boss incresed her pay to $750 per month. Even then, Mrs Sahar was still paid less than an Indonesian maid.

At 57 years old, Mrs Sahar contracted chicken pox. In her own words, she dragged her old carcass to the toilet by crawling on the floor. Even her tormentors, both the mother-in-law and father-in-law, were honestly terrified that she would die soon, looking at Mrs Sahar's prolonged suffering. She did not eat any solid food for 10 days straight. Her husband mixed cup after cup of warm milk, from milk powder, to give his wife energy. Her mother-in-law even grudgingly boiled barley water with a pinch of sugar, for her to drink. Two weeks after Mrs Sahar was confined to bed, our boss finally increased her pay to one thousand dollars, and started an EPF account for her, to lure Mrs Sahar to return back to work.

Mrs Sahar herself was amazed that her crop of friends were so kind to her. She knew for a fact that in Pakistan during her younger days, women were subservient to men, and was often very petty with each other. Here in the capital city of Malaysia, middle-class women tend to be super supportive of one another. After all, most are married with the same types of husband and children problems. So it is up to the keepers of the hearth to rise up and help each other, than to pull one another down.

(1284)Herbal Mixtures

I have a cousin who grew up in her paternal grandparents' household. Her dad passed away in a car accident. Her mum went to work in the Middle East as a nurse and remarried to a Filipino man there.

During the final illness of our grandfather, he seemed to be delirious and repeatedly told me that his wife was involved in witchcraft. I was a little surprised to hear him talk so insistently as normally he was a man of few words. Well, one should not encourage a patient in his delirium. Neither did I take what he said seriously. It could have just been a fancybecause his mind was wondering.

A few years later, our grandmother passed on also. My youngest aunt, who was unmarried, was cleaning the old house and throwing away the grandparents' effects with my cousin mentioned above. I happened to be visiting that part of the country and went to take a last look at the old house before it was to be sold.

My aunt showed me old photo albums and allowed me to choose a few as keepsakes. In the course of the conversation, she told me she threw a fair amount of herbal preparation. There were packets of powders with Thai scripts and quite a few were made in Indonesia.

Shortly after that I visited an old friend in Silver City had long chats with her long-serving maid. Apparently, married Indon maids would buy herbal preparation, usually in a pair. Before leaving home, they would swallow the first portion to stop their period. Keeping the second pack, they would then take when returning home for good. According this maid from a hilly part of Jawa, she believes that one could purchase similar products of different brands in most of the islands of Indonesia. As far as she knows, her relatives and friends have used such products and no one had any undesirable side effects.

After listening to what one person said, I dutifully went for a second opinion. When I had a chance, I asked my neighbour's maid who hailed from Sulawesi and had been woriking in Sabah for the past thirty years. She told me more or less the same thing and even offered to buy me a pair. She said it was available in Indon shops in town.

It is commonly known in the extended family that my cousin had never menstruated before. She is almost forty years old now. My grandma was adamant that her granddaughter was born defective and resolutely refused to let anyone take her to the hospital. Since she had no father and her mum was away, there was no one willing to go against the fierce old lady. Who knows? Maybe my grandfather was trying to tell me something in a rather indirect way which I did not undeerstand until it was too late.

Linking all the invisible threads above, I wonder if my aunt and cousin had unwittingly thrown away the second half of the herbal preparation. Anyway, it probably does not matter anyway. My cousin has decided not to marry and is earning a stable income looking after children others entrusted her with.

(1283)Ayam Wild

Opposite to my current place of abode we find a green belt of perhaps 80 hectars. It is rather low lying land that turns swampy in the rainy season.

Quite a few years ago, I happened to over hear a little girl ,who was the daughter of a nearby coffee shop owner, telling a server that wild chickens were found opposite the shop among the trees. Being curious, I asked if they had seen them. Both of them nodded their heads. When asked if it was male or female, the little girl said she saw a mother hen.

Lately I have been spending a lot of day light hours on my balcony. Apart from driving the car once in every two days, going to buy food for cooking; I read and write while enjoying the barmy breezes on the front broad balcony. After all, one could not go out at will, noone could eat out. How often could a person eat take out food that turns cold and soggy. If I managed to write a few pages, I am a happy woman. One could only read so many hours a day. In between, I saw two black feathered chickens walked out from the shadows of big trees, pecked at comething and retreated into the greenery.

Much of my free time in between cooking and cleaning I spent watching the endless line of cars queueing to purchase fast food. I also notice the trend of Food Panda and Grab Food delivery men. Sunday morning at 10:30am is the absolute peek, I counted five green Grab Food guys and nine pink Food Panda guys. Dinner rush starts at 4:30pm or so as the last order by car owners might end as early as 5:20 pm or as late as 5:50pm if stock holds.The takeaway guys work until seven something, everyone would be expected to go home by eight.

It is inyeresting that the normal household could only eat so much home cooked healthy food for so long. One yearns for fried chicken and deep fried fries for a change. Whatever business seafood, Western, Japanese, Korean... restaurants lose out of, Western fast food take away joints are reaping a lion share of the disposable income because consumers feel safe in the contactless drive through way of collecting yummy food.

(1282)CMCO

This is the second day of CMCO in this town. CMCO probably stands for Conditional Movement Control Order. Sanitation workers came yesterday to dig and suck out of the sewerage channel. That happened at least twice a year.

My son said the only oxidation plant he had seen in town is near our landlord's expensive condominium a mile or so away. It seems that Indah Water (semi government body taking care of waste water) does not exist here. Human waste simply flows out of the sewer through river to the sea. What people take for granted in the Peninsular are not found here.

It is also part of life to put up with patchy handphone reception in certain part of the residential area here. The first house I rented was within walking distance from the only golf course. My neighbour, a young man about to be married, could be found standing in the middle of the deserted road in front of our houses chatting with his fiancee around midnight the few nights before his wedding day. That was the only spot he could find uninterrupted signal to carry on a telephone conversation with his beloved.

What I described above was superceded by a native student who had to build a simple shelter on top of a tall tree which grew atop a hill so she could take her semester exam using an old laptop catching barely sufficient signal. That happened when all college students had to return home and made do with online lessons because of COVID-19.

On the other hand I am most grateful for uninterrupted water and electrical supply. Folks in my old neighbourhood in Selangor were having no water supply because of unlicensed business people dumping chemical waste on the water catchment area. Instead of suffering the preannual haze, I am enjoying clean air with daily sea breeze.

While the population in Malaysia is not alarmingly high, already the water and air pollution levels reached dangerous levels. For a country densely polulated like Indonesia, COVID-19 spread like wild fire. It does not help when certain people groups threatened medical people with deadly weapons insisting on taking dead bodies which had been disinfected and sealed back to their homes so that loved ones could see, touch, clean and kiss the dead. Even though doctors and health officials knew the consequences of that, they had no choice but to give in to the armed and crazed groups.

It does seem like the worst enemy of human beings are themselves. When population becomes too high, things would happen to cut the numbers down. Perhaps that was how the past civilizations ended abruptly.

(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?