We have recently celebrated a friend's 30th birthday and I gave him a book entitled "When I was a Kid" by Boey, a Malaysian animator / artist based in USA. It's a unique write up, or rather, a series of sketches about his childhood stories in the form of stick figures accompanied by short description and a splendid sense of humor.
He talked about his life as a little kid growing up in Johor Bahru where he had to commute to school in Singapore. All of his stories reminded me of mine. Unlike Boey, I love too much about writing and I am not particularly artistic so I am just gonna tell my own stories, in my own words.
I am born and bred in the capital city of Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur. We lived in a small Chinese neighborhood about 10km away from town where everybody knows about everybody, well almost. My grandfather was an entrepreneur. I used to sit around my grandfather's shop, listening to my dad telling me how my grandfather chased his first order of building materials, and hand delivered them, I mean literally. In 1950's, getting a lorry was out of the question. The only form of delivery helpers that my grandfather could afford at that time was the wheelbarrow and his five little boys. He has then gone on to build his little timber trading empire based solely on his hard work and believes that nothing is impossible. I didn't get much of a chance to know my grandfather. When I was still too little to strike a decent conversation, he was a diabetic patient at a very severe stage. I remembered his funeral though. He had a face of a fighter.
I remembered talking to a friend about my childhood. While he was grew up being free-spirited and exposed to the nature, I grew up in a protective environment and a set of rules to follow. My parents worked in my grandfather's business even before I was born. That was how they met. The picture of my mom's distinct dislike to my Uncle Fatt and how she thought my dad was a real catch, amused me. Trust me! My dad is the most rigid, old fashioned and big headed Chinese man I've ever met! I sincerely thought my mom's choice was suicidal, but then again, I guess in my mom's eyes, my dad was everything to her. They dated for a year or two before they decided to tie the knot. Well, the actual decision maker was my grandfather. You know how these old fashion folks from China are.. To them, arranged marriage is a norm, dating baffled them. My mom was reluctant to say yes not because she didn't love my dad, but the tiny Ms. Rebellious inside of her refused the idea of getting married at 19. She succeeded. They got married when she turned 21.
There are so many stories that Boey reminded me of my childhood. I don't know where to start. All of them made me laugh, some with tears in my eyes and some just plain idiotic. Anyway, let's try this.
My first time going to school where I needed to travel was the start of year one in primary school at the age of seven. The school was located in town center so my dad had to drive me to school every morning. I had lice when I was six years old. Ever since then, my mom kept my hair really short. I am talking about boyish cut, where when she took me and my brother out to the market one day, one older lady asked, "Oh adorable boys! How old are they?" .. My face was black.
First day at school with new strange kids around me and my boyish hair cut, was something forgettable. What turned the day into a-day-not-to-be-forgotten, was when I felt a rumbling in my stomach, right in the middle of a class. I remembered I was sitting next to a chubby boy and we were in Math's class. I have no idea where the toilet was and I was also too shy to ask. I thought the shit can hold itself but unfortunately it was just too eager to meet everyone. The next I heard was the chubby boy next to me, "OMG, what's that smell??".. I kept quiet. He went on about the smell for a bit and I wished I had a hammer so I could knock him out. After five minutes, I raised my hand and asked for permission to go to the toilet. It was pretty bad. I was overshooting, way past the phrase of "touching cloth". I cried and I wanted mom. So I wondered around the corridor, went down to the main hall and headed to the paid phone. Don't ask me how, but I managed to call dad and told him to pick me up from school cause I shit my pants.
When I was a kid, my dad loved to take us out for Dim Sum breakfast in the Chinese restaurant on Sunday. He would tell us the stories over and over again about how only on special occasion that grandfather took them out for Dim Sum on the weekends. He treasured it and he thought we would feel the same, not realizing that we were having the same shit every Sunday, unless he has amnesia. We would go to the same restaurant weeks after week, and dad would park at the same spot in the car park without failed. He would order fried fish ball, prawn fritters with mayo and in the end, generously allowed us to order mango pudding with longan. "Three mango pudding, and please add more evaporated milk." Mom was never a big fan of dessert. He thought we have no idea that the número uno fan of mango pudding was himself! I always hated the preserved cherry on top of the mango pudding. One time, I decided to try other dessert instead. So when the lady with the dessert tray came to our table, I said to dad that I wanted the layered cake. My dad looked at me then turned to the dessert lady and said, "Three mango pudding with extra evaporated milk and the layered cake." He looked at me, "I am having your mango pudding too."
One last story before I start writing a book. The only grandparents I had a chance to get to know to was my mom's mom. She babysitted me when I was just born. She used to always say to me whenever she saw me, "Oh! You remember when you were young in my house, the place you spent the most of your time was in the dining room where the table was always filled with food!" Then she would chuckle. No grandma, I don't remember cause I was only 2 years old. I loved her warmth and she was a very strong lady. Our Sunday would normally start with Dim Sum breakfast and ended up in grandma's house. The adults would gather for a game of mahjong while the kids would do anything they wanted. One time, I went cycling with my cousins. We have a very steep slope just the street next to my grandma's house. My Cousin Weng took us there with our bicycle. Everyone got on their bike and went downhill screaming their lungs out. When it was my turn, I felt the adrenaline and let go. It wasn't a figure of speech. I did literally let go, and fell. I saw blood on my knees and that was just tiny matter. What concerned me what the blood stain on my underpants... Period or I have broken my hymen? Urg Uh, don't say a word! Anyway, feared that my mom would toss me upside down like she always do with the peanuts and salt in a wok, I hid it with my cousin's long trouser.
With all these walk down memory lane, I must say that I was blessed. From when I started my life like a series of computer instructions with steps and rules to follow, revolted when I was 19 to now a proper lady with manners, cultures, believes and her own thinking (at least I like to think of it this way); it wasn't so bad after all. My bond with my family is what I treasured the most and along the way, I met interesting people that some altered my life, some changed my perspective in life, whereas some were just passer bys. What about your life? How was your childhood like? I hope at the end of the journey of your walk down that memory lane that it would put the same smile on your face as it did to me, now.
I am born and bred in the capital city of Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur. We lived in a small Chinese neighborhood about 10km away from town where everybody knows about everybody, well almost. My grandfather was an entrepreneur. I used to sit around my grandfather's shop, listening to my dad telling me how my grandfather chased his first order of building materials, and hand delivered them, I mean literally. In 1950's, getting a lorry was out of the question. The only form of delivery helpers that my grandfather could afford at that time was the wheelbarrow and his five little boys. He has then gone on to build his little timber trading empire based solely on his hard work and believes that nothing is impossible. I didn't get much of a chance to know my grandfather. When I was still too little to strike a decent conversation, he was a diabetic patient at a very severe stage. I remembered his funeral though. He had a face of a fighter.
I remembered talking to a friend about my childhood. While he was grew up being free-spirited and exposed to the nature, I grew up in a protective environment and a set of rules to follow. My parents worked in my grandfather's business even before I was born. That was how they met. The picture of my mom's distinct dislike to my Uncle Fatt and how she thought my dad was a real catch, amused me. Trust me! My dad is the most rigid, old fashioned and big headed Chinese man I've ever met! I sincerely thought my mom's choice was suicidal, but then again, I guess in my mom's eyes, my dad was everything to her. They dated for a year or two before they decided to tie the knot. Well, the actual decision maker was my grandfather. You know how these old fashion folks from China are.. To them, arranged marriage is a norm, dating baffled them. My mom was reluctant to say yes not because she didn't love my dad, but the tiny Ms. Rebellious inside of her refused the idea of getting married at 19. She succeeded. They got married when she turned 21.
My first time going to school where I needed to travel was the start of year one in primary school at the age of seven. The school was located in town center so my dad had to drive me to school every morning. I had lice when I was six years old. Ever since then, my mom kept my hair really short. I am talking about boyish cut, where when she took me and my brother out to the market one day, one older lady asked, "Oh adorable boys! How old are they?" .. My face was black.
First day at school with new strange kids around me and my boyish hair cut, was something forgettable. What turned the day into a-day-not-to-be-forgotten, was when I felt a rumbling in my stomach, right in the middle of a class. I remembered I was sitting next to a chubby boy and we were in Math's class. I have no idea where the toilet was and I was also too shy to ask. I thought the shit can hold itself but unfortunately it was just too eager to meet everyone. The next I heard was the chubby boy next to me, "OMG, what's that smell??".. I kept quiet. He went on about the smell for a bit and I wished I had a hammer so I could knock him out. After five minutes, I raised my hand and asked for permission to go to the toilet. It was pretty bad. I was overshooting, way past the phrase of "touching cloth". I cried and I wanted mom. So I wondered around the corridor, went down to the main hall and headed to the paid phone. Don't ask me how, but I managed to call dad and told him to pick me up from school cause I shit my pants.
When I was a kid, my dad loved to take us out for Dim Sum breakfast in the Chinese restaurant on Sunday. He would tell us the stories over and over again about how only on special occasion that grandfather took them out for Dim Sum on the weekends. He treasured it and he thought we would feel the same, not realizing that we were having the same shit every Sunday, unless he has amnesia. We would go to the same restaurant weeks after week, and dad would park at the same spot in the car park without failed. He would order fried fish ball, prawn fritters with mayo and in the end, generously allowed us to order mango pudding with longan. "Three mango pudding, and please add more evaporated milk." Mom was never a big fan of dessert. He thought we have no idea that the número uno fan of mango pudding was himself! I always hated the preserved cherry on top of the mango pudding. One time, I decided to try other dessert instead. So when the lady with the dessert tray came to our table, I said to dad that I wanted the layered cake. My dad looked at me then turned to the dessert lady and said, "Three mango pudding with extra evaporated milk and the layered cake." He looked at me, "I am having your mango pudding too."
 |
| Boey's bird cage story |
With all these walk down memory lane, I must say that I was blessed. From when I started my life like a series of computer instructions with steps and rules to follow, revolted when I was 19 to now a proper lady with manners, cultures, believes and her own thinking (at least I like to think of it this way); it wasn't so bad after all. My bond with my family is what I treasured the most and along the way, I met interesting people that some altered my life, some changed my perspective in life, whereas some were just passer bys. What about your life? How was your childhood like? I hope at the end of the journey of your walk down that memory lane that it would put the same smile on your face as it did to me, now.
 |
| Mr. & Mrs. Lau |
