Scootering

Scootering

Saturday, 5 September 2015

Enjoying the Moment

I look a lot like my late father especially now that I am in my forties. He had strong genes and his physical features have been carried down even to my two sons. My hair is greying and in a couple of years it will probably look exactly like his full grey. He had a well-formed rounded belly with a rather large keloid in the middle as a result of a surgery to remove gallstones. This I would try to avoid to my best abilities.

My father was born in 1925 when the world was a very different place. At that time, Malaya was a British colony providing a source of wealth to the Crown from the export of tin and rubber. My father said that his grandfather was a rubber plantation owner but he gambled away the fortune, although I wonder how large the fortune may have been. So my father's childhood wasn't one of privilege. In fact, he told me that as a child he was neglected, moved around to live with different relatives. I think that left him with a lost sense of belonging in his life. I wished I had enough sense when I was younger to probe when my dad told me these stories.

He started working in his teenage years but soon after the Japanese invaded Malaya. He witness the atrocities of the Japanese Occupation - men young and old were taken away in the middle of the night never to be seen again, headless bodies of those thought to be traitors were hung on lamp posts to inflict fear on the rest, and people dragged away in broad daylight if they didn't bow to the imperial army. The secondary school which he attended, Victoria Institution in Kuala Lumpur, was converted into the Japanese army's headquarters. I attended that same school many years later and you would hear stories of how and whereabouts in the school prisoners were interrogated and tortured.   Those years were filled with fear and full of uncertainties. Everyone lived in hope and in faith that somehow they will get through those bleak times. People had to look beyond the oppression and carry on from one day to another. During those year, despite the danger and the distance, my father, who was working in Seremban, would cycle back to KL to bring rice, which was rationed, home to his parents.  

After the war, my father worked in Lever Brothers as a factory supervisor. That was where he met my mother. Work related hazard! Perhaps their first conversation was about the fact that their birthdays were only two days apart, although my father was much older. I remember my mom telling us that at that time there was another man who was trying to court her. My mom told this man that she was already seeing someone else but he didn't get the hint. She eventually had to tell that man that she was already going out with "Choo".  Either out of respect, or fear for his life or for fear of his job, the man stopped his pursuit. And so after several year, my parents got married. Well they got married, and many years after became my parents.

My father went through many ups and downs throughout the rest of his life. He got caught out in a world that was fast changing around him. Not having completed higher education or upskilled himself, he did not hold jobs that could sufficiently supported a family with four kids. There were also periods of time when he was unemployed, and this was a source of anxiety for him and for my mother. Being the youngest child in the family, I was oblivious to all this when I was growing up. I understood we were from a low income family but that was as much as I knew. I didn't notice the struggles that he went through.

There is a snapshot in time I hold very close to my heart.  This is from as far back as my memory can take me of a time spent with my father. We were on a beach holiday with relatives and I was very happy to see my father when he arrived a day later. I remember sitting next to him both squeezed in a beach deck chair looking up into the sky as the sun was setting. I asked him where he had gone and why he was late. I can't remember what exactly he said, but I remember he made me feel that it was okay because we were now together so we should just enjoy the moment. The next morning, he brought me to swim in the sea. I remembered holding on to him tightly because I was afraid of the waves but I also felt incredibly happy.

Today is my father's birthday. I want to thank him for my most primitive memories of us just enjoying the moment together. I want to thank him for staying the course in the midst of his personal struggles. I want to thank him for his love and hope, even though he was mostly a quiet man. I thank God for him.

"...but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us" Romans 5:3-5




   


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