MY CHILDHOOD DAYS
I don't really remember much about my tender years. I
guess the furthest impression behind my brain was at the age of 4 when my aunt decided to take some photographs
of all my siblings during Chinese New Year. I picked the choice to pose at
the entrance of a bushy "forest" for my individual shot. It
was actually an abandoned graveyard that my creative neighbour used it as his
chicken coop since there was not enough "mainland".
Click to see those "catching fish" days (thumbnail)
I love to play (who don't, right). I would come back from school and
just leave my schoolbag intact, take my lunch and quickly go and find my "ka-kees"
from next door to fill my time until my grandmother came looking for me to wash
up. Then after dinner,
quickly bring out any outstanding homework and complete it with a half-closed
eyelid.....I still remembered one part of my school song
was written as thus: "WORK HARD, PLAY HARD". But I think
I only comprehended the latter part then.
Living in a kampong also opened up my world of curiosity, I had seen eggs
dropping out from the hen (amazing moments).... and eaten a handpicked twin egg too (2 egg yokes in one
shell). It was so big and unique that I kept it for a few day without letting my mother
know about it and secretly fried it one afternoon when no one was at home.
But the cleaning of the chicken coop was a dread, so smelly!
Since we rear the chicken from a chick, after all the hard work and money spent
on its feed, we must be able to enjoy them when they were fully grown. Here
comes the part of slaughtering it. I used to help my mother to hold
the chicken down while she cut its throat with that unsharpened knife. Can
you imagine how it would struggle under my hold? (I always think that my muscle
building somehow had to do with such sessions). And finally the chicken would
die of loss of blood and became the sacrificial offerings on
the dining table for our hungry stomaches.
We
had a small plot of garden that I actually tended to it with all
cares. I grew bittergourd, groundnut, chilli, tomato, french bean.. Other
bigger shrubs like soursop, pomegranate, tapioca, sweet potatoes, yam... the
happiest moment was to see the fruit of my labour. Nothing like putting in
the small tomato in your mouth and savour its sweetness. Character
building started simultaneously, the tending of plants taught me patience,
lovingkindness, care, love of nature.
An incident that almost caused a mishap when I was six years
old. We had a well that was supplying water to 90% of 10 household's
daily needs (we only had one tap faucet for consumption purpose only). One
morning, I insisted that I should draw the water out from the well for my
12-years old sister. To prove my capability, I tried pulling up the full-to-the-brim pail
that was definitely much too heavy for a little girl like me. Instead the weight of
the full-contained pail pulled me down right into the well. Somehow, my feet
found the rough edges of the stone well and hung themselves there. Difficult to believe right, but I
believed God in His goodness must have preserved my life. Till date, I could even clearly remember the
rippled surface of the water about 1.5 metres away from my face. It happened so
fast that I did not even remember the moment of falling down. Of course, I was later being
pulled up by the adults present that morning, needless to say, it also came with
a session of scolding. That was the only time I had come so closely to look at the bottoms
of the well in the next 11 years that I had spent my washing, bathing, playing
there before I shifted to "high-rise" building.
I was never a friend of footwears in those days, 
having to look high and low for it when it was required only. I normally walked barefootedly to the "ma-ma" shop about 200
metres away. Never did I know that I was actually exposing my feet to
reflexology at such a young age. This must be one of the reasons why those reflexology masters
have to work extra hard for a client like me.
My mother was a traditional
woman. She might not be educated at all,
but her dedication to the household was something that everyone could not
deny. She served every members of the family faithfully and willingly
without any murmurings at all. She would always have a very motherly smile
on her face. At that time, we gathered all kind of woods and twigs
available and chopped them up in small pieces to start fire for cooking purposes.
Though slim but she was very strong. I could still picture the scene of my mother
carrying a chopped tree trunk one afternoon when she came back home after finishing her
work of the day as a domestic help. To think back, she must have been very
tired after carrying such a heavy log for a distance but I knew in her heart she
was happy because she found a treasure...... fuel that would last us for a
while in that cooking stove......... But before I had the chance to earn to
make life a little more comfortable for her, she passed on.....10 years ago. Life has since
changed to going home without dinner on the table, no one to remind you of those
nitty ritty stuff. But life goes on still...'cos there is a greater
Comforter in my heart.
My childhood life played an important role in my growing up. I was
never too pampered or too ill-treated in general. I think this has
somewhat helped me to take on hardship in a better spirit in years ahead.
My next growing phase,
My School Days.