They say we have choices in life. Do we really? What kind of choices are they referring to?
I usually have mixed rice for lunch. The term mixed rice does not in any way mean that the rice are mixed. It’s just that you can choose your side dishes. Usually there will be more than 10 choices for you to choose from. I call that as having choices. If I don’t like this particular dish, I can always choose another. But if I don’t like the mixed rice as a whole, I can still choose to have curry noodle from the next stall.
On the other hand, I can look at a traffic summons and say I don’t wish to pay. Technically, I have a choice. I can choose to pay and be a good citizen or I can choose not to pay and face the consequences which usually translate to a heavier fine or jail term. In this case, I have to choose the lesser of two evils. Pay the summons and set myself back by $300. This of course is better than spending a nite in jail.
Choices are when you get to choose freely. However, when you are forced to choose, I don’t term that as having a choice. Ask a parent to choose which drowning child to save. What kind of response will you get? As a parent you will want to save both. But you only get to choose to save one. Tough.
The same goes with Christianity. God gave us a choice, or at least that’s what I’m told. But I need to fulfill certain criteria. If I don’t I’m condemned to hell. If I do, I get eternal life. Sounds like a simple enough choice but sadly it isn’t. To be accepted, I have to be committed to church activities, contribute my tithe, etc. But I have a family to take care of. I have an ailing mother to care for. I can’t be away all the time. I can’t afford her medical let alone give tithe. Will God understand? Apparently not according to the pastor. Maybe I’m in the wrong church.
Churches today expect committment. Can’t blame them. Memberships have been dwindling. The world is not an easy place to live in. Maybe perhaps we have too much choices. We can choose all kinds of sins to indulge in. The world is offering plenty that’s for sure.
To be or not to be? Choices.
Grandma is a strong woman. No, she don’t carry weights or lift cars. What I meant was she has a strong character.
Grandma was a young lass during the Japanese occupation in the then Malaya. Being the eighth daughter in a family of 11 children, she spends most of her time hiding in the jungle to avoid the soldiers. Grandma came from a well to do family but they lost most of their wealth during the war. In a time where women are not encouraged to study, grandma took to the books and became an accountant.
Years later her parents arranged her marriage. She was to marry the son of a close family friend. Unknown to their parents, grandma and grandpa have been secretly seeing each other before they were betrothed to each other. It amuses me to know that my grandparents are quite sneaky during their younger years.
It was a life of hardship after marriage. The country was trying to rebuild itself after the war. Then they had to live through the May 13 crisis. At the same time they had to put 4 children to school. Grandma worked hard. She came out to work as a teacher. Then later on work for a plumbing company as an accountant. Out of the 4 children, her eldest son and youngest daughter were the brightest, relatively speaking. Both finished high school but were not able to continue college due to financial constrains.
When I moved back to stay with them, I discovered a lot about them. They never spoiled their children except for their grandchildren. Lucky me! For a grandma, she’s quite open-minded. Although I know many times she tries to understand us and relate to us but the generation gap is too wide. Her effort did not go unnoticed though. She became a grandmother, a mother, a friend and a conspirator. She never tires to share her wisdom with us. She never fails to meet our needs and take care of us. When we needed an extra player at monopoly, she happily obliged. And when we needed something from grandpa, she conspired with us to get it.
Others always mistaken grandma for my mother. That’s because grandma married young. Also, she can be quite vain. At the age of 50+, she still dyes her hair black to hide the silver. As the years go by, she can no longer hide her age. Her body also started to fail her.
After an incident where she was admitted to the hospital, she sold off all her jewelery and bought each of her grandchildren a token of her love. Everyone of us got either a gold chain or a ring. What was heart-wrenching was her giving it to us individually while explaining that this is her will. It was then that I realised that I will lose her one day.
That one day came. Grandma was admitted to the hospital for heart failure. After several attempts to save her, she fell into a coma and passed on. I was given the chance to speak on behalf of the family in place of my father, who being the eldest son was still on his way back from overseas. So much fond memories to share. So much regret of not saying what had to be said.
But I’m thankful for one thing. I got to live with her for 8 years of my life. I’m glad that I know what a great woman and loving grandma she was.
I used to be a good student. Not in my primary school but when I started secondary school, my studies picked up. My grades were good and I did pretty well for my finals.
There’s really nothing much I want to do during this period of time. My parents are sleeping in separate rooms. I hardly see my dad anymore. Mum seemed distant and depressed all the time. I had to study hard. I wanted to make them proud. I spent most of my time after school pouring over books and doing homework. I left notes to my dad on his bedroom door asking for additional allowances to buy revision books which he gave me.
Everyday, after school I made a bee line back to home. Friends would asked me to join them for games and such. But I always decline. As soon as I finish lunch, it’s homework time. Then right after that, I would take a shower and then it’s study time. There’ll be no TV, play, naps or outings. If I did well in my studies, then perhaps my parents will get back together.
My finals came. I studied harder. A month after the finals, the results were out. Mum accompanied me to school to collect my results. My was terrified. Cold sweats were beading on my forehead when it’s my turn to collect it. With trembling hands I reached out to accept it from the teacher. She smiled at me. Mum was beside me. I looked at it. It’s written in red.
I got all As. I looked up at mum. She was beaming at my results. I was overjoyed. I felt like I was skipping on air all the way home. Being a typical mother, she called the whole world to announce my results. Ok maybe not the world but all the closest relatives. That night, I left my results on the dinner table for dad to see when he comes back.
Next morning, dad wrote me a note congratulating me and saying he’s proud of me. I was so happy. Now finally, we can be a happy family again. How naive I was.
A week after that, mum attempted suicide. And a week after that, dad ‘officially’ informed my brother and I that they are getting a divorce. A month after that, we were sent to live with our grandparents.
I was doing my secondary four and five in Ipoh. I just couldn’t concentrate anymore. I spend more time staring at the idiot box and my mind wanders a lot. Since then my studies went downhill. From top student, I became the last student. I didn’t care anymore. Nothing I do will change the situation. So why bother.
Why is this happening? What else must I do?
I had a best friend when I was in high school. We did things together, share stuff together, go places together and break laws together. Stuff that best friends are supposed to do together.
He always blames me for ‘corrupting‘ him. Apparently, I introduced him to porn. Yeah right. You can’t force a horse to drink. During those days, porn is not as easily accessible as today. Internet is virtually unheard of here in Malaysia during the early ’80. All I did was recommend him to some novels in the school library. Some might say those novels are highly questionable but the teachers and librarians are hardly the bookworm type. They know not what they bought. By the way, in my defense, let me clarify. I introduced those books to him because it is well written. I’m just helping him improve his English. Really.
Anyway, we had great times together. Mum liked him too. He often had lunch at my place after school. Mum always made him feel welcome. However, I hardly ever go to his place. His parents are kinda scary. Even to him. So we usually hang out at my place. homework, tv, meals, games etc.
Despite his time at my place he never knew about my family situation. He never knew about my parents arguing a lot. He doesn’t know the sleepless nights I had thinking about my parents. Aren’t best friends suppose to share everything? Aren’t there suppose to be no secrets? I guess I was too ashamed.
After my parents divorced, he still did not know. All I told him was that my parents are moving back to hometown. We were sad. But we kept in touch. Every year, the festive cards never fails to arrive. Letters to each other were frequent. We always update each other about the mischief we got into that month. However, as the years go by, we communicated less and less. The only correspondence were the greeting cards.
8 years later, I came back to the city. We met up and I’m surprised to see that he hasn’t changed one bit. But I’ve changed a lot, according to him, that is. He introduced me to his girlfriend. She’s a bit on the meaty side I might add. Definitely not the dream girl that he was always raving about having one day. Oh well, he has matured.
Even then, as adults, I still find it embarrassing to tell him about my family situation. I wanted to tell him but I just couldn’t. Don’t know why. I always make up stories about my parents whenever he asked. I hated his questions although I know I know he meant well.
2 years after I moved back to the city, one morning we were out having breakfast. Just he and I. I blurted it out. I told him what happened to my parents, why I went back to Ipoh and why I didn’t tell him all these. He sat there listening quietly. When I finished. He looked me in the eyes and said he understood what I was going through. He thanked me for telling him and assured me that he will always be there to support me. I’m so grateful for a friend like him
A few months after that, I got a girlfriend. I called him out to have a double date. The first thing he said to my girlfriend after introductions was, “You know, your boyfriend was the one who introduced me to porn…”
What an idiot. Grr…
Ever been in a desperate situation?
I woke up one morning to a strange sound. It sounded like someone trying to throw up. Like when a woman is in the early stages of pregnancy. But this sounded slightly different. There’s a tone that made it sound alarming. I immediately went out my room to check it out.
The sound came from my mother’s room. I called out to her but there was no reply. I went in to her room. Mum was sitting on her bed slightly leaned back balanced with one arm. Her shirt was wet with sweat and she was pale. I ran up to her and asked her what’s wrong. She couldn’t answer. She just stared at me with fear in her eyes. She couldn’t move either.
I called the ambulance. No one picked up. Desperate I called the fire department. They redirected me to another agency dealing with emergency matters. A lady picked up the call. I asked for an ambulance. Before getting the ambulance, she start asking for my details like national identity number, house phone number and mobile phone number. I was getting angry. All these questions seem so unimportant. Then she asked me what wrong. I told her my mother’s condition. She asked more questions why is she in that state. I shouted at her, “I’m not a doctor! I need an ambulance now!” She said the ambulance will be there within half an hour. I was speechless.
Maybe what they said is true. Don’t believe everything you see on tv. Whenever somebody dial 911, the police, ambulance or fire department would be there within minutes. But here in Malaysia, they will play the 20 questions game with you. But what choice do I have? I waited.
I kept talking to my mum although she couldn’t answer me. Then it strike me. Is she having a stroke attack? I began to panicked. I thought of carrying her to my car and bring her to the hospital myself. But I wasn’t sure if I can move someone who just had stroke. Also, it’s very risky for me to carry her down the stairs. Mum isn’t exactly light. Finally I thought I’ll just risked it.
10 minutes later, out of a sudden, mum moved her hand. Slowly but surely, her breathing slowed to normal and she’s no more gasping. When she was able to stand up and move, I helped her down the stairs and to my car after calling back to the emergency number to cancel the ambulance. Believe it or not, the ambulance haven’t left yet.
I drove her to the hospital. At the emergency ward, the nurses and doctor immediately took over. All this while, although I was panicking, I was still very cool and clear minded on what I needed to do. After mum was pushing in to the ER, I called my office to take the day, off explaining my situation. Then I called my uncle to let him know what happened. After that, I just sat outside waiting.
Then, I broke down and cried.
I used to be a very naughty kid. Naughty and mischievous. The whole family has had their hands full with me. Of course when my brother moved in with us, the amount of mischief doubled.
You see, my younger brother did not stay with us for the first 4 years of his life. After he was born, the family moved from the town to the city. Dad got a job there. Business prospect is definitely better in the city. My parents wanted to settle down in the city before bringing my brother with us. I was only 2 years old when I came to the city. I never knew I had a younger brother then.
When my brother first arrived, he cried and cried and cried. I didn’t like him then. What a weird kid! Always crying. Because my parents were stranger to him, my brother needed a lot of adjustment time. The only parents he knew was my grandparents and great-grandmother. When he finally adjusted and settled down with us, I found a partner in crime.
My brother and I were always coming up with stupid crazy stuff to do. Once our parents were out for the night. Since uncle’s family were staying with us we did not need any babysitter. (uncle is my mother’s elder brother). After putting us to bed, my aunt went to sleep. My brother and I could not sleep. We were anxious for our parents to return home. We hate it when they leave us at home.
Now consider this equation. Two mischievous kids. In their parents bedroom. With no adult supervision. Lots of grown up stuff lying around to explore. All that equals one big headache. The first thing we went through was our mum’s dressing table. We discovered lots of fascinating stuff. One thing that puzzled me was why mum keeps so many different shades of brown colour pencils and some funny looking crayons in her drawer.
Not being any wiser, my brother and I proceeded to try out the new colouring tools. Since we don’t have papers to colour on, we started with the bed sheets. The colour of the flowers on the bed sheets were a bit too dull for our taste. We really enjoyed ourselves. My brother and I have never sat still for this long before. It was a great time together. Until mum came home.
Mum was still talking to dad when they walked in. They saw us and froze. Then they saw the bed sheets. Mum’s eyes widen. Dad was gaping. Then and only then did we realised we did something really bad. All hell broke loose.
Mum was screaming. Dad was scolding. Then mum disappeared and returned with the dreaded cane in her hands. With the expertise of a swashbuckling musketeer, mum wielded her cane and dealt those dreaded blows. My brother and I were running screaming all over the room. Dad guarded the door so that we could not escape. Thinking back now, it must have looked like a cook trying to catch an escaped chicken for slaughter.
Uncle and aunt woke from the commotion. Unfortunately they did not side with us after seeing the damage. I thought it was a masterpiece. The bed sheets do look better with the vibrant colours. Oh well, everyone’s a critic.
The next day mum sent the bed sheets to the laundromat. When she came back, she told us that even the lady at the laundromat said we were extremely naughty. My brother and I was only half paying attention. We were already scheming our next mischief.
Ah… the good old days of innocence.
Dad was never around. He’ll be at school to collect my report card but not for PTA meetings. He’ll be back to sleep when I’m asleep and off to work before I wake. Is he avoiding me?
I can’t remember when it all started but mum and dad just started arguing a lot. Then they drifted apart. Mum being a housewife is always around. Dad, on the other hand, became a stranger. Then dad stopped giving mum money for the household expenditure. The car got repossessed by the bank. I guess business was bad.
To keep food on the table, mum started pawning off her jewelleries. Then she started babysitting for additional income. I had to help out with additional household chores like buying groceries, going to the wet market, doing laundry and helping out at the kitchen. I hated it. It was affecting my studies and I have less time for homework. Forget about the idiot box. That’s a luxury I’m not allowed. Little did I know, many years later, all this household work/chores actually prepared me to live on my own.
Then the day came when mum and dad slept in different rooms. My brother and I had to give up our rooms for mum and dad. My brother and I took the master bedroom. Pretty big for two young kids. To cheer ourselves up, we would play pretending the room is our kingdom. Our beds our castle. And we waged war at one another with hilarious results. Blankets became our cape. We made cardboard crowns or masks. Dad’s kendo sword or bokken became our weapon. Before I go on further, let me assure you that no one was hurt during and after our play pretend. Can’t say the same for some of the furniture though.
It was during this time that my uncle’s family, mum’s brother, visited us a lot. They took us out together with their only son to family outings, circuses, shopping malls, movies, etc. It felt like a family. Except they’re not mum and dad. My brother and I enjoyed ourselves but the moment we reached home, reality dawned on us. Things was still the same. Nothing changed.
It was that time that aunt taught me to sing ‘Sing hallelujah to the Lord‘ in the car one day while we were on our way to someplace. The seed of Christianity was planted. However, it took quite a while to grow. We started to join them for Christmas mass, Easter Sunday, fund-raising events organised by the church etc. It was fun. At the same time, it took us out of the house.
I started to question the existence of God. Mum always knelt in front of the altar and chant for hours. I know what she’s praying for. She always asked us to pray for the same thing. Many times, my knees hurt from the hours of kneeling. Sometime I get cramps on my legs. Other time they got sore. There’s only 1 thing we prayed for. To be a happy family again.
Why isn’t God answering our prayers? Did we pray to the wrong God? I was too young to understand but I can see the desperation in mum’s eyes. Secretly, I started to talk to the walls in my room. I just picked a wall, stared at it and talked. I guess you can call it praying. I don’t know. I just know I had to plead and beg. My brother was scared and worried. Mum and dad had issues they have to settle. My brother is in my care now. I had to be strong. I had to be confident. I had to protect him.
I will never forget that day. Mum was kneeling in front of the altar praying gibberish. At least that’s what it sounded like. Then I saw it. There were pills on the altar. There were pills on the floor. There was a big mug of beer in front of her. Mum was overdosed on sleeping pills and she washed it down with beer. She was already swaying on her knees. Brother and I were crying holding on to her. I didn’t know what to do then. Never had I been so scared in my life.
When I heard the outside gates opened, I cried with relieve. It was uncle and aunt. They dropped by to visit. When they saw what happened, they quickly rushed mum to the hospital. They purged her stomach. Not a pleasant sight. Then mum fell asleep.
Brother and I stayed at uncle’s that night. While in bed, the entire incident played over my mind again and again. It was then I realised. I almost lost my mum that day. I cried myself to sleep.
Uncle’s family were there for us. But where is God?
