Ma dearest

The photo is narrow, naturally because she was slimmer then. Only 25 years old and newly married.

Her impact on life, hers and many others, however is considerably broader. Much much broader.

She is my Ma and in her 80 years (and wishing her many many more!) on this world, and for many decades she has taught and shaped many minds, in their most formative years. There is a saying that one's personality is formed at the age of five and it is exactly at this age that Ma taught young children in Malacca, first at a renowned private chinese school and then at her own kindergarten (which she had jointly found with Pa).

She grew up in rural Malacca to an educator father and an entrepreneurial mother, my maternal grandparents. To call my grandma (Ah Jia) an entrepreneur probably flatters the word. Ah Jia was an immigrant from China, arriving in Malaysia with nothing more than the clothes on her. She was illiterate and could only scrawl the three characters of her name (more about that later) and only spoke the Dabu variant of the Hakka dialect. On the back of Pax Britannica migration, she came over at the behest of her mother as she was betrothed to my grandfather (a fine young teacher who was also a Dabu Hakka) in an arranged marriage.

Even in today's world, where gender and race inequalities are still uglily pervasive, imagine what it was like a century ago for a woman like her. She hardly knew her own language let alone the language of the natives or the colonials. She did learn enough to sign her name in order to procure the rubber estates that she worked on from her employers. That indomitable - surmount all problems, no matter the obstacles and disadvantages - spirit, was nurtured in spades in her daughter, my Ma. By the end of her life, my Ah Jia had acquired acres of rubber estate and half a dozen shop houses and was also able to send her youngest son to university in Australia.

Ma did not go to university though. Being the middle 5th child of 10 and living in a rural village amidst the rubber estates, Ma did not enjoy "elite" education and in fact studied in the local school where my grandfather was the headmaster. So, while not premier in reputation, the education she received was certainly premium in quality and today, she is the best speechmaker in the family. 

But more than mastering the toast, Ma also possesses a sharp strategic mind. She may have only studied till middle school (not unusual for girls then) and therefore does not have the papers to evidence her smarts, but the way she brought up her family and managed her career spoke volumes. 

First, in consultation with Pa, none of their kids were educated in Chinese, because back in the 70s/80s, an English-based education remain the surest path to success. Indeed, none of us are now anywhere as fluent as her in Mandarin (and our mother tongue ability is literally just to be able to speak with our mom) and so she fell on her sword there so that we may all rise in our careers.

The other testament to her strategic mind is how she managed her own career. Her middle school certificate got her a job as a kindergarten teacher but she knew, liked her own mom, that she could do more. After taking some time off to raise her family full time, she returned not to her erstwhile employer but to start her own kindergarten with her husband, my Pa and they ran that successfully for 2 decades before a 7-figure exit.

She is retired now but not being able to sit still, she keeps herself fit and is nearly as trim as the 25 year old in the photo above in her line dancing troupe where she has made new friends, some half her age. My Ma, she is forever young. Happy 80th birthday!

Working it out

 I am now on my way to Malacca, to the loving embrace of my parents and feeling so happy. Even at a ripe old age of 53++ :-), I am still not beyond feeling their love and loving them back and I know this will not stop.

In life, however, many things are less certain. Heck, even the climate is changing. I wonder if my grandchildren will one day live in Singapore or will it be underwater? 

The weather aside, we also cannot control others. We can only know them. 

M had told me a few days ago about how A had told someone and now her friends know about it. Both parents sympathised with her and like the different persons we are, we both gave different advice: in fact, we both represented the extreme ends of the range of responses. 

Truth is it is her journey and we can only proffer advice. Only she can decide which of the paths you want to take. At our chat ROAing at Funan, I commended her on having taken the right decisions even at moments of high stress.

So, the first thing is to recognise that. To take comfort that she does make good decisions when confronted with a problem. 

Second, as she decides what to do, I would like to share how I process my own challenges. She may have a different technique but I guess it never hurts to hear how others do it. Mine is a 3-step process.

1. Be kind to yourself. The problem was not created by you. So, don't blane yourself and don't take it out on yourself. Mom always laughs at dad when I blame the floor, but hey, its a mechanism I use and it has served me well

2. Take your time to decide what to do. No issues are that urgent and as you do so, embrace the journey because you are growing in the meantime. In fact, one day in the future, you may even look back and point to this time and said, yup, i learnt a lot then!

3. Write your thoughts, your options down. Like me, you are a writer and so its always easier to pour it out on pen and paper. In a way, that's kind of what I am doing now too as you have been on my mind and when we spoke last night, I felt that live conversations weren't quite the thing to do and so i am writing instead. Then with all your options laid out, you can decide. 

And this brings me to the final point. The options going forward. And she has heard two already, from her mom and dad... and there are at least two more.

i. Do nothing. It will pass. Some other stories will become more interesting. Besides the friends who love you will still do and this episode has given you the opportunity to learn who are true. If I were you, I'd be so grateful that I got the chance to know this at the age of 21

ii. Take more time to decide. You dont have to act immediately. This is not at all a life or death situation and in fact yoh have so much more to look forward to, not least being back in Oxford, your final undergraduate year and then Masters. Wow! Let not the urgent crowd out the important and this is not even urgent.

iii. Talk to A. It may help to tell him how you ferl about it. He is immature and you talking to him can help him grow too. As I said earlier, its good that you know now who you can confide in and who is not ready.

iv. Reclaim the narrative. This was what I had said earlier. Since the word is already out, might as well add your voice to it so its not just other people speculating and you can even make it a positive announcement thanking everyone for their support and that you are much better now. Its like a Simone Biles moment and she got so much more support in return for her courage of speaking up.

In other words, this is all part of life. Of growing up. There will be other challenges, big and small, that will come our way. How we overcome them is the key. And as I said during our ROA, she has shown she does make the right decisions to move on. 

And of course, she will do so from a rock solid foundation: the love of your family. Nothing can beat that, even for a half century old guy whose heart is brimming with love in anticipation of seeing his parents in an hour!

Coming of age

 30 years ago, perhaps to the day, I made a big decision! I bought my first handbag. No, don't get me wrong. I wasn't into cross dressing. I bought a sleek modern handbag (in black!) which I have been admiring in the shop window for my then girlfriend (now wife). It was a branded item, from a French fashion house. It cost me more than 10% of my monthly salary. But it was all worth it. I was prepared to spend a lot more and as it turns out, share all my assets with this girl.

There is a twist to this tale though. When her 21st birthday came around, I was not there in person. I had already been posted for work in Bangkok and the handbag which had been procured and lovingly wrapped months before was duly handed over to my best friend's girlfriend (she was more reliable than he was) for her to hand over to D at the birthday party. 

So, I never saw D's reaction to the gift. I only heard her voice in a call and read her response in a letter, both of which warmed my heart  a thousand miles away considerably. She took really good care of it and it still looks new and modern to this day. The first is due to how she preserved important things and the second because I got timeless taste! Hey, that's why I married her.

So, handbag and 21st birthdays have a special significance for us in this family. And when M turned 21, her parents got her one too, in her favorite color and in a design her mom knew she would like. 

Gifts mark a moment in time and some, like handbags,  have some function of utility too. The real significance about coming of age though is well summarised in this poem. It's not about turning 21, but its about facing the years to come and knowing you will remain beautiful inside. you brave and glorious thing!

How many years of beauty do I have left?

she asks me.

How many more do you want?

Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.

When you are 80 years old

and your beauty rises in ways

your cells cannot even imagine now

and your wild bones grow luminous and

ripe, having carried the weight

of a passionate life.

When your hair is aflame

with winter

and you have decades of

learning and leaving and loving

sewn into

the corners of your eyes

and your children come home

to find their own history

in your face.

When you know what it feels like to fail

ferociously

and have gained the

capacity

to rise and rise and rise again.

When you can make your tea

on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon

and still have a song in your heart

Queen owl wings beating

beneath the cotton of your sweater.

Because your beauty began there

beneath the sweater and the skin,

remember?

This is when I will take you

into my arms and coo

YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING

you've come so far.

I see you.

Your beauty is breathtaking.

Author Jeannette Encinias

 Happy birthday, my darling daughter

About a kettle

 You have all heard of the phrase, pot calling the kettle black. 

Well, as a scout roughing it out while camping in the woods, I had my fair share of soot-blackened kettle, not to mention also pots and pans. And having to scrub them all clean for inspection the next morning, I know by experience all soot are hard to get rid of and a blackened pot should certainly not insult the kettle.

As it happens, one particular appliance survived our house move nearly two years ago: an electric kettle whose dispenser no longer works. So, while it boils water and keeps it warm, to get to the hot water, one needs to use a small cup to scoop the water out and risk burning the fingers when brushing against the hot plates inside the kettle.

Why would something that could be procured for a few dollars survive. Well, the truth is when it first broke down, years ago, it wasn't so broken and we made do with it. After all the main function: that of boiling water and keeping it hot is working well. And having worked our way around it, using a kettle like this became familiar and almost natural.

There is however a twist here. You see, channelling their inner Marie Kondos, D & M throw out a lot (and I mean a lot) of stuff once it is no longer working. So, why not this one? 

I think there are five reasons, all applicable to life in general:

1. First it was not exactly out of service. Its key functions still work

2. The workaround (even with the risk of getting burned) is feasible enough

3. After a while, the workaround even seems natural

4. If one can get sentimental over an inanimate object, in its not fully working state, it has become a unique kettle

5. And last but not least, I have learnt not to interfere with decisions made by the wife in the kitchen about kitchen appliances. After all, isn't that a recipe for a happy life?!

So there you have it, five tips to go through our time on Earth. Everything and everyone is a little flawed. We can always work on it and even have workarounds should we not be able to fix it and then grow accustomed to it and perhaps love its quirkiness. 

A "black" (non dispensing) kettle is just fine

The search for perfection

Ever since moving to the new house, I gave in to my audiophile bug and with a few willing accomplices, set up not just one or two, but six hifi systems up and down the house. The equipment are American, British, French, Italian, Japanese-made and the listeners, well... mainly local Singaporeans. 

The thing about this bug is that one looks not just for a cure, but a better and better and better cure. A warmer sound. A more emphatic bass. A clearer mid-range. In other words, perfection.

I think this bug has not only afflicted the audiophilia part of me but also other parts of my life and even that of my family's. We are always striving for something better.

In a way, I may have caused it because I have aspirations and similarly urge my children to have theirs too so they can work towards meeting and achieving these.

But ultimately, what is this quest for perfection lead us to. I attended our church group's metatonia session last week and we were asked how we can earn eternal life. The answer (from the Word of God) troubled me and I told the group. If, in order to inherit eternal life, I have to give up my family, I said I am not sure I can do that... unlike the earliest disciples who gave it all up (their possessions, their wealth, their homes, their families) to follow him.

T, a soft spoken member of the group, shared his perspective and it resonated with me deeply. He was recounting having to go for a medical procedure which he was afraid of and as he prayed, he surrendered his family to God. It was an astounding perspective he shared and a epiphany for me. 

At the end of the day, we return to our maker and will have to give it all up and so all we can do now is to make sure that we live our lives so that we can be more perfect in His eyes. Now, that is a bug worth catching! 

Homecoming (a poem by my daughter for me)

 An elephant never forgets, and still

When the tears have run dry, she makes one last appeal,

Then says a final goodbye, though it hurts, though it’s hard.

As nature knows what it knows,

So she’ll go where she goes,

As the river flows but never knows the end goal from the start.

What is home if not a country, a people, a song,

The first place we feel we don’t really belong.

Some stay, but most know: true courage lies in making a new start

Sepandai Tupai Melompat, Akhirnya Jatuh Ke Tanah Juga

It's apt that on the day I am due to collect my citizenship renunciation slip, this famous malay phrase comes to mind. You can guess what it refers to from the picture below.

 

photo credit: gambar-ularcobra

Squirrels are uber athletes. This specimen above even had a fruit in its mouth as it attempted a leap from one tree branch to another and they do this countless times a day, with supreme confidence. And they almost always nail their landings.

Until they don't. And hence the phrase that means "as clever as the squirrel jumps, eventually it falls to the ground". As someone who likes data, this statement is tautological. Of course, if you jump as many times as the squirrel does, there will be that one occasion it falls. That said, I have never seen one fall. Ever. And given I have taken over 200 walks in parks the past 1.5 years and seen many squirrels (maybe 500 of them), I have never seen one fall. Until yesterday.

From an incredible height, it fell onto the paved jogging/cycling track in Bishan Park. Despite its luxurious fur lining, I could even hear the thud as it hit the ground. There it remained motionless for about 5 seconds (out of shock,probably, M says) and then as it sensed a bicycle coming its way, it flipped itself over and ran up a nearby tree.

It struck me that the Malay idiom is incomplete. It isn't about the falling. It's about the getting up again.

And this squirrel will likely have its confidence well intact, and probably attempt that great leap again, and naturally without harnesses or safety nets. 

I write this just as the Tokyo Olympics gets underway. Deferred by a year due to COVID19, the human uber-athletes of the work will now start to showcase how far, how fast and how high they can perform. Some of them will fall too. The human spirit cannot be any less than the squirrels'. They will pick themselves up and run, jump and score again. Another saying comes to mind, "you don't score any goals from the kicks you don't take".