We were bullied because we had not been able to utter a single word of English and had to resort to saying 'yes' by nodding and 'no' by shaking our heads to the left and right. This particular group of girls were fast to pick us as victims and we were often the butt of their jokes.
I was amazed at my own speed of learning because in the second year I came second in class. Somehow I managed to learnt the languages well and I could remember all the multiplication tables required for my level. It was my turn now to laugh at the bullies because they were often punished for not doing their homework, for losing their books and worst of all, for not knowing any of the multiplication tables. They came out as the last ones in academic performance. Later, when we grew older , we became good friends and we understood our childishness then.
Besides seeing my own progress in academic performance,moving from second last position to second place, I also saw that my family was getting better. We had moved into a new and bigger house in a different neighbourhood. However, the sad thing was I had to live further away from my best friend and my grandmother. I was very lonely at first and I was not used to the unfamiliar neighbours.
Every weekend I refused to get up early because there was nowhere to go anyway. My mother was a stay at home mum and she would stay at home most of the time to make 'kuih' for us to eat in her new kitchen. She was learning to make the local Malay 'kuih' and they did not turn out well. They were either too soft and mushy or too hard, more aptly called 'rock kuih'. Nobody in the house wanted to eat them and my father complained about wasting money. Eventually, she gave up and she complained about us being different from 'so and so's' children who had good appetites and who never complained about foods.
Two days before Chinese New Year that year, my father suggested that my mother try making beef balls. Presumably he had tasted a few from somewhere and longed to eat some more. He described the flavours he had tasted and asked if my mother was able to do it. My mother thought it should be easy and instructed him to buy the meat for her to try out the recipe. 'It won't be difficult', she said.
That weekend my father bought a few katis of beef and my mother had it sliced thinly before mincing them. My brothers and I helped to mince the meat using the chopper because it had been very tiring for my mother to do it alone. There was too much for her to do it alone.. My brothers and I took turns. At one time we were playing on the chopping board, treating it like a Chinese drum and making music like the rhythm they produced for the lion dance. My mother reprimanded us for playing with the sharp and dangerous tool. 'Mind your foot! ' She shouted , pointing at my brother as he minced the meat playfully with the huge glinting knife.
My second brother made a mess when he had dropped some meat on the floor and that made my mother very mad. One thing about old people from China was that they hated to see food being wasted. I remember having to pick every single grain of rice I dropped and my mother would make sure I did it faithfully. I never understood at that time why my mother had to be that particularly strict about it when we were no more in the situation that she was in China where they had not enough food to eat. Now I realise that she was right in a way and that it was a virtue to be inculcated, seeing the state of youngsters nowadays who spend money without feeling any regrets.
I remember we took a long time mincing the meat for the beef balls. At some stage, my mother would take a lump of it and shape it into a ball for deep frying. My brothers would be the ones to try out the hot fried balls. My mother had them to try a few times and they were very happy about it. However my mother was quite disappointed in her own efforts because the meat balls turned as tough as leather although the taste was quite good, not too salty and the spices had made them very delicious. Finally my father was the one to try and knowing that we had been at it the whole morning, he approved of the texture. At that point , my mother decided it was time we stopped mincing the meat and she then proceeded to shape them into balls and fry them. 'Yippee', exclaimed my brothers, thinking that they would have more to eat.
'No more, the rest will be eaten on the eve of Chinese New Year!'
'But mum, at least let us try one or two of the better ones. We have eaten the leathery ones only. That's not fair!'
On the eve of Chinese New Year, the meatballs were too leathery to be eaten, so my mother had them stewed in the pot until they became soft. That was the only time and the last time my mother cooked that recipe.
I remember it was in the same year my father bought a second hand Volkswagen saloon. It looked good to me because it was bigger than the Morris Minor he had earlier. Later, I detested it because it was difficult to get the engine started in the morning. My mother and I had to help my father push it until it gained enough throttle to move on its own. I was totally embarrassed especially when the neighbours stood staring at us. I thought I heard someone laughing at me, because I must have looked very funny in my pyjamas.
I had been thinking a lot of my grandmother. Eventhough I was jealous of the attention she was giving to my baby cousin, I felt a sudden void even more when I was lonely. I missed her bright and airy bedroom, the large and hard wooden bed, the uncluttered cupboard where she put the few sets of neatly folded silk samfu she possessed ,the smell of mothballs in it, her 'manly' handkerchiefs which were large enough for her to wipe her constantly perspiring face , the old milk tins that she had used to put all her personal items like black hair clips, combs, medicated oil , to name a few, and the smell of the Chinese cologne she used. I liked to observe how my grandmother would get up early in the morning to boil some hot water to have a warm bath. I liked to see how she would comb her long but scanty hair and how adeptly she would fix it into a bun. She was indeed an immaculate woman.
The same year, two months after we had moved into the new house, my grandmother died of a sudden heart attack. The funeral service was held in my house and it was the first I had ever experienced. It was sad to see her go because I was just beginning to 'know' her. I wished she was around when I was a teenager, when I married and when I had children.
Three years later, my mother joined her. That was the last straw. I had two of my favourite people gone and I was devastated. I started a regime of self reliance, be it emotionally, intellectually or spiritually. I taught myself most of the things I knew about life, made many mistakes but I am grateful I am still in one good piece and still very sane.
No comments:
Post a Comment