Mum

My Mum

My memories of Mum had not always been positive. I remember those days when she had no time for us as she hurried through the household chores to go out for her daily mahjong games. It was indeed like some kind of evil addiction that gripped her and she was totally immersed in it without thoughts for food or drinks, let alone anything that took her away from it.
I remember saying harsh words to her- “I will bury your dead body with the set of mahjong tiles.” I really resented her when I thought of her addiction and that was when I fully agreed with my paternal grandmother how unworthy she was as a mother and a wife.

Yet, there were times when I felt sorry for the hard life and difficult childhood that Mum had. She had over time, shared with me how she was given up for adoption even as a very young child. The woman, who adopted her, did so, not out of sympathy but more for practical reasons.

She was a maid, fanning the mistress when she had her meals, and slapped with silver chopsticks on her hand when she so much dared to reach out for some choice morsels of meat.
She recounted how she had to get up early in the morning to wait for the night soil man to come and collect the waste bins.
She remembered the time too when she hid in the smelly and irksome toilet to have forty winks.

Mum’s adopted mother was somebody’s mistress, the man who had sworn eternal love for her at the sea goddess’s temple before he married his betrothed.
The mistress had neither the money nor the rightful position of a wedded wife and what little money that she got after his death was soon squandered on lavish meals on her numerous godsons and goddaughters who fawned on her.

With the fast depletion of the little money that she inherited, the godchildren showed their true colour and soon disappeared altogether when they realized that the old lady had nothing more for them to exploit.

The widow soon found that she had to go out to earn her own keep and for that, it would be inconvenient for her to bring a young child along. Mum was soon passed on to some relatives to take care of.
Mum was never given any form of education and as she was passed along from one family to another, she was treated just like a maidservant wherever she went.

She recalled the time when she returned from an errand late as she stopped at an iced-drink stall. She was sat upon by an overweight aunt and lashed by both the stout woman and her bullying son.
One day, she was on her way to submit some illegal bets and was arrested by the police. She was then placed in an institution for wayward girls and young prostitutes.
Here, she finally tasted some personal space and given more humane treatment. She picked up some skills and after a year or so, was given the option to marry one of the poor men who came to the institution for wives or to enter the job market.

She did some manual jobs and saved some money before she got wind of her adopted mother who was then placed in an asylum for the mentally unstable. She visited the old lady in the asylum and bought her favourite snacks as often as she could till her death.

Mum shared too the time of the Japanese Occupation. She was working in a restaurant when she was picked out one day when some Japanese soldiers patronized the place. Unhappy with my Mum’s slack attention, he slapped her and placed his sword at Mum’s neck. Mum thought that that would mean the end of her mortal life. She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to know her fate. The drunkard soldier withdrew his sword and Mum’s life was spared.

Some years later, Mum met the man who took her breath away. Soon, Mum became his woman and for the first time in her life, she found bliss and happiness. Dreamily, she often recounted the time when she had no cares of the world but to nestle in his loving arms, visiting the Great World and New World City to watch movies, the main source of entertainment at that time.
Mum spoke of that romantic man often, recalling those happy days when he spoke kindly and softly in affection and would blow kisses when he left her for work every morning.

Mum adopted two children at that time. Both children- a boy and a girl were also from families that could not afford to have them as they already had many mouths to feed.

Mum spoke of the two other children who were Mr. K’s children with his legally married wife. The first wife and her two children accepted Mum and her adopted children.

As the Chinese saying goes, good times do not last. The wonderful man who loved Mum so deeply died of a heart attack when the couple was both young and loving. No wonder, Mum could not get over him even after so many years and often reminisced of the time they were together.

Mum now had to rely on her resourcefulness to keep herself and her two children alive.
She went back to working as a hostess in a restaurant.

Being a young widow, she attracted some suitors to herself. However,being rational, Mum was careful not to fall in love so easily.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Mum met the rogue who later became my father. The handsome rogue was charming and persuasive as all rogues are. His ardent pursuit soon won my mother over. She succumbed to his pursuit to her regrets later on.

Dad was then married but Mum had won his heart with her beauty. Before long, she surrendered completely and the result was my birth.

I was the beautiful baby, born with pink and fair complexion and the glue that cemented their otherwise tempestuous relationship.

As all sons were in that era, Dad was used to a life of comfort and spoilt by his mother. Yet, for our sake, he had gone out to earn a living as a bus driver.

Dad had dreams of becoming an entrepreneur. Together with his brother and his brother’s family, they set up a shop on an island off Johor. They set up a shoe shop adjoining a hair dressing salon run by my aunt and assisted by Mum. Dad and uncle worked as camera men too at a photo studio just behind the shoe shop. The businesses failed miserably and everybody had to return to Singapore not only without making a fortune but debts to clear. Mum had to sell all the jewellery that she had accumulated and given to her by her romantic ex-husband. Mum was resentful of Dad and thereafter,began the unending friction between the two. I was then under two and came home to Singapore none the worse except for the marks left by mosquito bites.

Life in Singapore continued to be a struggle for both my parents and Mum had suggested that she helped financially by going out to work. Being a male chauvinist, Dad would not agree to have my mum worked in a complex environment, often surrounded by men with ulterior and dishonourable motives. This is my father’s perverted view of his kind.

Dad often returned home with a meagre salary and whatever he had, Mum had to share it with my grandmother.

The only thing that linked mum and dad was their love for me. Once, Mum actually left us but when she returned to visit, she was perturbed when I complained that Aunt had threatened to throw out all my clothes. Reluctant to leave her precious daughter to be ill-treated, Mum finally decided to return to us.
Seven years later, Mum had another child, my sister, who consolidated our parents’ relationship.
Dad’s charming ways had resulted in some undesirable attention from other women especially when he worked as a taxi driver.
Dad and Mum often quarreled over these unwelcome female attention and encounters, as well as money matters.
They continued to squabble the rest of their lives together and I remember having often to act as the mediator between them. Sometimes, I just wished that they had not continued living together.

In their old age, Mum had to take care of Dad because of his chronic arthritis which resulted in his immobility. For our sakes, Mum continued to take care of him until one day, unable to stand it any longer, she sent him to an old folks’ home. Within a month, dad passed away.

Years later, Mum became senile and the decline of her mental capacity was heartbreaking to say the least.

The Scar

It had been a great afternoon lunch with my friends to celebrate my promotion at work.
Isn’t that Mrs. Lee at the common corridor? She seemed to be waiting for me.

I remember the muffled sounds of argument coming from her unit some nights before and I wonder if she wants to confide her problems in me.

“Have you had lunch, Mrs.Ong? She held my hands gently. I have some news for you.”
There have been some accidents….. baby is scalded…. In hospital.”
I can’t make sense of what she is saying as I picked up certain terrifying words. Accident? my baby of nine months?

I can’t understand how I could still be standing there, looking at Mrs. Lee stupidly.

I finally made sense of what she was saying and hopped into a taxi that took me to the hospital where my baby was warded.

I could not get to see her until later. Hubby was looking miserable as he tried to embrace me.

How and what has happened? I wish I had not gone for that lunch to celebrate what success?

Days followed with afternoon and evening at the hospital, and tears flowed incessantly before we could finally fall exhausted after each visit. Even parents are not allowed to stay behind in the ward as it is a burnt ward and contacts were kept to the minimum to prevent any infection.

Baby was crying miserably but what could I do? We just continue to live from lunch to dinner visitations.

She survived that horrible accident with only a big ugly scar on the back of her bottom. Praise God it was not the face that had been scarred.

It was never to be forgotten, that terrible accident that scarred my baby.
Had it been so many years before? The poor child is now a grown up adult. The only thing that reminded me of her accident is the scar that is hidden from view but not from my memory. Thank and praise God for sparing us of worse consequences that would mar and destroy her future.

It is my birthday!

Children look forward to their birthdays when their parents celebrate their birthdays with gifts and usually a birthday cake.
In my family of four, our birthdays stretched out over the four quarters of the year.For each of us, we go out as a family to have a meal and also usually end the occasion with a birthday cake.
My birthday falls over a period when we are quite busy with school examinations etc.I remember years when my birthday was not celebrated and in one particular year, I was particularly disappointed when family seemed too busy to even remember it. However, good friends reminded me to remain cheerful.
This year, I was particularly touched when friends and family members remember.
I received sms from my two sisters in law all the way in India, as well as from those nearer home.
The two girls have been busy all week with their work but in the morning, they gave me a birthday kiss on the cheeks and arranged for a dinner in the evening somewhere in town.
It is wonderful to be loved and appreciated.I remember to be grateful and thank God for His abundant blessings.

My Dad

I remember my father as a very devoted son to his parents and a caring brother to his siblings. He likes to chat with our friends when they visit and both my sister Soo’s and my friends enjoy talking to him.
I remember my father’s devotion to his daughters especially when I was young and always demanded to be carried. The only time that he was angry with me was when I once refused to walk and wanted to be carried. When he did not do so, I insulted his mother and was given a tight slap on my face.
I remember the day when my grandfather passed away and Dad was sobbing silently while a long line of mucus emerged from his nostrils which he did not wipe away.
Once when we dropped a ping pong ball outside the window and it landed on the parapet. Without thinking, Dad jumped out of the window with his clogs on, to retrieve the ball. He landed one storey down and landed on the ground floor, dazed and only recovered sufficiently to return to the apartment miraculously unharmed.
Dad had a checkered childhood which mum never failed to share with us. He was always into some kind of trouble and was constantly punished by my stern grandfather.
Once a monk came for a visit and was having tea with Grandpa in the visitors’ hall downstairs. From the floor above, my father could see the monk’s head as he looked down through a peep hole. He found it so irresistible that he spat right on target at the bald head of the poor unsuspecting Holy One deep in conversation with Grandpa.
On another occasion, he passed by some wonderfully washed and gleaming white linens hung out in the warm sunlight. Using his water gun which he filled with black ink, he aimed at the gleaming sheets and formed his creative patterns on those canvases.

Once he took me to my night class and to his dismay and horror,discovered that the English teacher in the classroom had been his deadliest childhood enemy. Without hesitation, he bid a hasty retreat, leaving the clueless man wonder why my father took off so quickly as though some mysterious powers had driven him!
Later, my father disclosed to me that he had many combats with the man who spoke only in English, something deserving of my father’s disdain.

Dad was the eldest son by my second grandmother when the first grandmother passed away leaving two sons behind. My father began a long line of brothers and sisters after him.
One evening, my grandfather was invited to attend a birthday dinner and before he left, he reminded his errant son, my father, to keep out of trouble as he was always into some mischief or another. No sooner, had the old man left, that my father could not resist the opportunity to go out to have some fun of his own. The billiard hall was just five minutes down the road and magnetic to the hot-blooded teenager.
My grandfather happened to return early that evening because of a stomach upset and on his return, was aggrieved to know that his wayward son had disobeyed his strict order and gone into the forbidden billiard room. My father was summoned back immediately with the old man bristling with fury. He lay out the butcher knife used for cutting meat and would have chopped off my father’s two hands had not for the pleas of grandmother and his younger siblings.

I remember how devoted Dad was to his almost religious fervour for mainland China whom he called his motherland.
Every evening at six pm sharp, the noisily and poorly tuned radio would rasp and come to life with the Chinese national anthems in bursts of loud and soft sounds.
Dad would not miss a single of those broadcasts, singing praises of Chairman Mao, the steer hand that steers the great Motherland. Father was drunk by the propagandas.
When the day came for Dad to visit his village in Swatow and also to get cures for his arthritis, he was filled with hopes and exhilaration.
Yet, a month later, when he returned to Singapore, he brought home a pair of stone lions silently,without much enthusiasm to share the experience of his long-dreamt for trip.

Dad had great hopes for his two daughters as Mum had not given him a son.
He longed for the day when I could be the prestigious lawyer as he believes what boys can do, so can the girls. Alas, I did not take up that honorable profession envisioned by Dad, only to end up as a school teacher.
However, Dad was still proud of me and wished that one day I would become a school principal.

I did not fulfill even that hope of my Dad, but dearest Dad, I did become a good teacher. By the way, my daughter Sarah has just completed law school and she is now the deputy public prosecutor/ state counsel in the government chamber of law. May your soul rest in peace, Dad.

Learning as a life-long process

Learning is indeed a life-long process. We cannot and should not stop learning at any stage of our life.
When we were young, we embraced learning as it prepares us to grow into maturity.
We took our first steps to learn to adjust to a new world we were born into, adapting and learning, having left the comfortable body of our mother.
We were enthralled by the sights and sounds of our new environment and as we familiarise ourselves with them, we move forward, one step at a time until we gained our independence at adulthood.
However, learning should never stop for there is much to explore and learn till the day we depart from this world.
I remember learning to cope with my studies, my emotional life, relationships, later, my career first as a teacher, then as the head of department.
I learnt to be a daughter,a sister, an aunt, a girlfriend, a wife, then a mother and the list goes on.
I pray and thank God for a curious mind and the world never fails to amaze me.
My impatience slowly gives way to more tolerance though I still find waiting irksome and impatience still my weakness. However, I learn that something is really worth waiting for. I recalled the time when I waited for motherhood and was really in despair after years of fruitless waiting. God however, has really prepared me well and what joy it was when finally first Lynn and then Sarah came along.
There were growing pains over the years but the wait for them has often reminded me how precious they have been for me.
For years too, I despair of my failure to bring up Lynn well to be God-fearing but again God never gave up on me. He teaches me to trust in Him and assures me that changes come only through Him.
Even my relationship with Hubby is growing and we both learn how to change and improve ourselves through the patience of the Lord with us.
We are not perfect yet for we are still work in progress.
The day when we finally meet the Lord will be some time in the future, though we know not when.Meanwhile, we have to continue to learn and glorify His name and trust in Him that one day His work in us will be done.

Our baby's graduation!

Sarah's four years of hard work finally culminated in her final examination and she achieved her target result of second upper and managed to get into the legal system as deputy public prosecutor.
The week after she started embarking on her career saw her morose and seemingly stressed out and tense.
It could be a matter of adjustment and also her busyness in helping a friend to plan her wedding.Over time, she seemed to relax a little and we attended the commencement on Friday morning to celebrate her graduation.
The little baby who was always smiling with little hands clung to mine has blossomed into a young lady. Her chapter of schooling has completed while a new chapter of career has just begun.
In her busyness, I just pray that she continues to trust in the Lord and knows that He is sovereign and He is with us no matter what.
I remember reading in Isaiah how prosperity sometimes blinds us from the love of God as we become complacent and full of false security, relying on our own wisdom instead of on His.
As we rejoice with our baby's achievement and progress, we continue to pray that God will lead her back to a closer walk and more intimate relationship with Him. Amen.

The day at the Shenandoah National Park

After the 6-day long Heat Wave and the never-ending flu, we finally realised our dream of going on the scenic roadway Skyline Drive at the Shenandoah National Park.
We left Gaithersburg to travel for two hours before we arrived at the Front Royal North Entrance Station.
After paying a yearly subscription of $30, we entered the Park roadway and before long, we were at the Shenandoah Valley Overlook and were awed by the lovely sight around and below us.The beautiful sights left indelible marks in our minds.
From there, we went on to the Dickey Ridge Visitor Centre where we picked up some maps and a Shenandoah CD to play in the car.
The beautiful straight tall trees all along the road and the beautiful scenes at the various lookout points took our breath away.
We walked along the short trails and met various like-minded people who were inspired by the beautiful sights before them.
We turned back after Skyland as it was already five pm in the evening and had to abandon our plans to visit the Dark Hollows waterfalls. On our return trip, we stopped to have another look at the various overlooks and tried hard to imprint in our minds the beautiful sights of God's creation that lay before us.
With gratefulness for God's blessing, we bid Shenandoah Valley National Park a fond farewell and pray that we would one day return to visit His wonderful gift to all of us.