The humble leeks that I paid $1.40 cents for had travelled from Cameron Highlands to Sheng Shiong Supermarket before they ended up in my kitchen as lunch.
The roots have to be chopped off as they are inedible and trap soil. And even as these roots belong to the same species of vegetable, they differ in thickness, length and their curling angles.
Like the discarded portions of the leeks, the relevance & diversity of our origins that anchor us are often hidden or even when visible, are considered cumbersome in our rush to seek surface acceptance.
I think the neglect of our roots, whether by choice or circumstances, can also make us incredibly ignorant or hypersensitive to any comments or questions on race, colour, and even the pronunciation of cultural and ethnic terms.
As we step into the last two months of 2019, may we find time & space to seek and arrive at the grounding and sense of belonging that come from recognising and acknowledging our roots. Perhaps then we will feel secure enough to respond to the dynamics of life without causing harm to ourselves or to others.
During the Festival of Lights season, a school cat that had been injured and warded for medical boarding finally made a full recovery. His homecoming was much anticipated by staff & students.
On Deepavali morning, a former student dropped by my home to hand deliver her wedding invitation card.
Hand delivered wedding invitation card from Habibah who is now a primary school teacher and bride to be this Nov.
Habibah Najihahbi Ahmad, the bride-to-be was 15 when she studied English with me.
In these days where relationships are often hurried & transient, not to mention contractual, Habibah’s visit on Deepavali morning has brought such warmth & light.
Habibah and her mountain guide above 5000m in the Himalayas in 2018.
Now in her 20s, she’s completed her academic & professional training, driven & camped solo around Iceland, trekked the Himalayas, become teacher to primary school children and is going to be married this November.
Habibah wrote this in 2010 as a response to a question on childhood memories. In 2018, she would go on to trek the Himalayas. I think what childhood exposures & activities have power over adult behaviour later on.
The young lady who used to scale walls & sit inches from the ceiling in her childhood, wrote articulately in English, and faithfully fed the school cats till she graduated from secondary school, will be someone’s precious life partner soon.
Removing cat fur off visitors is the last ritual whenever people visit me.
Through the years, I’ve seen Habibah in polo t-shirt and school skort, sports training gear, concert attire, baju gurung, trekking jacket and I’m now looking forward to see this lovely lady in her bridal finery. ♥️
May the new moon tonight illuminate the path of all who are facing changes in their lives.
Whether it’s about starting an apprenticeship or leaving a job, getting married or becoming alone, finding a home or returning to the streets, may the new moon bestow a spirit of bravery on all sentient beings.
When we relocated from a chinese village to a multi-racial housing board flat in the 70s, our immediate neighbour was an Indian family of four.
As the head of that household was 1 year older than my dad, my grandma told us to address him as Elder Uncle. Elder Uncle was Hindu and his wife Theresa was Catholic. Knowing that her name was too much of a challenge for our grandma’s untrained chinese tongue and for ease of communication, Theresa had kindly allowed her name to be modified into a rather inelegant sounding, “Ah Sa.”
“Ah Sa” had a key to our home and we had a key to hers.
In those days we had no telephone. If her relatives dropped by and there was no one home, we would unlock the door to “Ah Sa’s” flat on her behalf.
And if we misplaced our key to our home we need not panic because “Ah Sa” had a spare.
I loved lingering in her kitchen to watch her cook and be fed as well. I must have eaten hundreds of “Ah Sa’s” chapattis and dosas by the time I reached secondary school.
Her children, Manimaran & Selva were younger, and my mother was in love with their dark glossy hair and long eye lashes. My mother would touch Mani’s fringe affectionately and wondered aloud why her own kids had such flat hair.
Elder Uncle and “Ah Sa” were very strict parents but they had a soft spot for my youngest brother, Andrew, who was a toddler then. Elder Uncle would scoop him up and parade my baby brother around the neighbourhood like a prized pet.
Each Deepavali morning our Indian family would give us a tray of festive snacks in beautiful glass bowls covered with an embroidered organza tea cloth.
It was exquisite.
We would receive the tray with reverence and bring it into the kitchen to transfer its contents to airtight containers.
In return we filled “Ah Sa’s” glass bowls with sugar, candies and fruits to wish her a sweet and fruitful life ahead.
Years later, “Ah Sa” is the reason why I remember the names and aromas of Indian spices. She’s also the reason why I can stare at sarees and dupattas for hours and why I still tune into the Tamil radio station now & then.
I give thanks for the light of inclusivity that entered my world through this family, and hope to keep it shining in their honour.
It was the second last lesson at the old campus. The students had been checking their marked exam scripts and tallying marks.
As much as we like to believe that marks are just marks, we also know marks determine GPA scores and have the power to call up all kinds of intense emotions.
We’re usually good at celebrating success but awkward at handling disappointments. Sometimes in our eagerness to help someone see the bright side of things, we ply them with glib platitudes & unsolicited solutions.
On that day I had prepared a lesson inspired by the Deepavali (Festival of Light) season and brought a small tea light in a decorative clay holder to represent a traditional oil lamp to class.
We explored the literal & figurative meaning of light, and the various symbolism of fire & light across cultures and in our everyday language.
The students cheered softly and their eyes lit up when the youngest in class struck a match to light the lamp.
A hush came upon the room as each child carefully passed the light from hand to hand, taking a moment to still their hearts to give thanks for the mental faculties to sit for exams and for whatever scores their efforts have brought them.
Slowly the heaviness of discontent lifted as the light burned brightly.
“I feel that there are a lot of things that I can look forward to in the future, and I feel motivated to work hard for the things that will happen next,” a student responded when asked how did holding a light in her hand feel like.
By contemplating on light, the students experienced how their minds could rise above the temporary disappointments that had threatened to lock them in a permanent state of fear and self-doubt.
When the lesson ended, I gave thanks to light and bless the room that had hosted us all these months.
That lesson turned out to be the last time I would be using that room as the following week, I would receive notice that the campus would close permanently.
As a result of the campus closure, we had the chance to conduct our final lesson of the year with a field trip to Little India where the students became part of the Festival of Light celebration.
My wish of having our final lesson at Little India had been fulfilled by factors beyond my understanding.
So I like to take this chance to wish all my friends the blessings of Fire and Light, especially when we face situations & outcomes that are beyond our control.
I’ve kept a red canvas bag in mint condition for some time. It was designed to raise funds to help homeless dogs.
Each dog printed on the bag is based on an actual dog looking for a home. Hence the tag line, “Hello, is it YOU that we are looking for?” goes with the graphics.
As I only recall First Tutee gushing about Captain America, wrestling & Ronaldo Cristanto, I didn’t think he would appreciate a red bag with sketches of dogs on it.
But I was wrong.
First Tutee took the bag home and folded it neatly amongst his belongings.
The next day he brought it to school to hold his water bottle and a couple of his favourite story books which he likes to have with him during recess.
When he came back from school he told his family that every single one of his classmates like his red canvas bag, especially the cute dogs on it.
And so it came to me as a lesson to mind my own assumptions & biases. For a boy who loves superheroes, martial arts & soccer, can also delight in a red bag full of cute doggies on it.
A week before some students texted to say they would like to drop by. Their exams just ended.
As I had a prior commitment they visited yesterday instead.
“…we have graduated …but we’ll never forget your kindness.” – student moving onto Year 5.
They came bearing gifts of fruits, food, scents and words, and made me feel like a village school teacher in the old days.
Before their visit, I also met up with a young Nepali undergrad doing her part for stray animals in her country. Yesterday she found the medicine she urgently needed to bring home for a rescuer and her sick kittens.
And yesterday happened to be full moon. According to Krison it was also Myanmar’s Thandingyut Festival, where youngsters honour older members of the family & community.
Unrest among youth and confrontations between generations dominate the news of late. The unseen suffering of animals continue even without media coverage.
In the midst of the above, may the love and grit of the youth I met on this full moon bring reconciliation between the young and the old, and healing for all sentient beings recovering from trauma and sickness. 🙏
Wishes of happiness, health & peace from Yang Liu, the calligrapher of these auspicious words
Bought this pair of Mary Jane in Houpu, Kinmen Island, where my grandma was born.
Buying new footwear is usually a happy experience because firstly it means you have legs to begin with, and secondly you have the money to spend.
But for me there’s always some anxiety because firstly the shoes I currently own must be falling apart, and secondly, the retailers may not stock the shoe types that meet the conditions of my feet. (Shoes don’t keep well in our humid climate so it’s pointless to purchase standby pieces)
Bought this pair with Ron & El on full moon day in Taipei after our temple visit.
As my left foot has no gripping ability, Mary Janes have become a necessity. As my left sole needs to be elevated to compensate my limp & reduce fatigue, Mary Janes with flat soles made of certain materials are non-negotiables.
The man who makes my shoe purchase a wearable reality is a cobbler who has been faithfully elevating my sole for years.
With compassion, wisdom & great skills, my cobbler made my shoe purchase a wearable reality. (11 Oct 2019)
He’s the man I think about before I buy any new shoes. ♥️😊
We speak about 3-4 times once every 2 years. And it’s always about my shoes and when will they be ready for collection after he has done the sole elevation.
I used to think he was just a slow cobbler but through years of interaction with him, I realised he puts in a lot of thought & effort into the shoes that are entrusted to him for mending and alteration.
Whether you are bringing him a pair of Chanels, Ferragamos or Batas, this soft-spoken, bespectacled scholarly-looking cobbler treats all clients with cautious non-attachment.
And when my shoes are ready for collection, it’s never just a business transaction. With a child-like pride, he’ll point out to me the customisation that’s been done and his thought processes behind them.
From him I learnt that there’s no one-size -fits-all solution with foot issues. His wisdom and compassion in making the best fit for people who go to him cost him a lot of time and energy, and sometimes his reputation. His dedication just cannot be measured in dollars & cents.
My cobbler hasn’t increased his charges with my shoe work for years. When I insisted on paying him a bit more, he stuck to the old price & said, “It’s ok. I can still manage. The main thing here is you can walk more easily.”
Perhaps it’s bec I have only one functioning leg, this dance pose of Lord Ganesha is very attractive to me. I wish for my cobbler the stamina to stand on one foot like the Lord Ganesha, and receive blessings of good clients and prosperity as he works alone to bring relief to all whose shoes need mending & realignment as they complete their own dance in life.
Of all the depictions of Lord Ganesha, my favourite has always been the one in which he stands on one foot and dances the Universe into being.
My cobbler is operating his business all on his own now. His business partners have left because they felt that the return on investment was not promising.
So I wish for my cobbler the stamina to stand on one foot like Lord Ganesha, and receive the blessings of good clients & prosperity as he works alone to bring relief to all who need shoe repair and realignment in order to complete their own dance with life. 🙏
Sometimes I buy or collect stuff without really knowing why. They are not expensive or rare items – a book here, a stone there, little knick knacks at fund raising etc.
Many years ago I bought “The Diary of Rags,” to support Action for Singapore Dogs (ASD).
It was a story told from the perspective of an abandoned dog called Rags. It was meant for very young readers whom I had no contact with at that time.
I could have easily tossed it away during the many decluttering exercises teachers need to do if they don’t want to be buried under an avalanche of lesson materials & books.
But still I held on to the thin book. Perhaps keeping the book was my way of giving Rags the story book dog a home.
This September while I was away in Taiwan, First Tutee had to read a story book and create an alternative ending for it.
“Rags” came to First Tutee’s rescue.
Rags’ abandonment and hardship in the construction site with no prospect of rescue resonated with the primary 2 boy.
So for his alternative ending, First Tutee decided to put himself in the story. He went to the construction site and with outstretched arms, stood between Rags and the bullies.
I noticed in his drawing First Tutee was unarmed.
Me: Why didn’t you bring weapons with you when you went to rescue Rags? The dogs at the construction site might not like you entering their territory.
First Tutee: I only want to scare the dogs away, not hurt them.
He had included the cats, Ollie & the late Kitty in his rescue mission because they are his protectors.
The new term began. His English teacher texted to say that First Tutee was one of the two pupils who handed in their holiday assignment on the first day of school.
When I bought the “Diary of Rags” at the animal welfare event, I didn’t know one day a little Malay boy would need it for his English assignment, and show me a compassionate & courageous heart sitting in that 8-year-old body of his.
Even as no one knows what the future holds, it is assuring to see that all kind acts will be of benefit to someone somehow at some point.
So may we try to do all the good we can even if we can’t see the results yet.
“Ms Ong, you’re Chinese so you know these things. I had a terrible nightmare last night? Why ah?” the teenage boy asked.
I saw his strange logic as an attempt to access his spiritual side.
“Well, words have energy. Maybe the bad words you use so freely in the day time collect themselves in your head as nightmares when you sleep,” I said quietly.
“Really ah?” He asked.
“The words had to go somewhere after they come out of your mouth. So it’s natural for them to return to their creator,” I reasoned.
“So why don’t you try to be nice for a change and use better words? Swearing is also very tiring you know?” I continued.
For the rest of the lesson, it was quite touching & comical to watch him looking towards my direction & placing a finger on his lips to fight the urge to use expletives over things that didn’t agree with him.
Two days later he was very excited to tell me that he had tried very hard to avoid cursing. The night before he didn’t have a nightmare, but he dreamt he was on an outing with friends and very happy.
He and some of his friends were prone to insomnias and mood swings. So I think he really cherished the change, even if it was just a dream.
On the morning of our final lesson the first thing he said when we met was,
“Ma’am, can you pray for me?”
I was a bit surprised by such a wholesome wish so elegantly put forth by a boy known for temper flare ups.
I said to him I already did so every day before I left my home to teach. ( I dedicate a light to invoke compassion & wisdom before setting out)
He looked surprised.
“But after you don’t teach me anymore can you still pray for me?”
He was worried that his prayers couldn’t reach God because of his corrupted speech habits.
I assured him that God can hear everything, including dirty words. But if we guard our speech we make a clean space in our heart to receive His guidance. Then whether things turn out the way we want them or not, we will still be fine.
Before we broke for lunch, he came to shake my hand.
“Promise you pray for me even if we don’t see each other again? I’ll be thinking of you.”
As a result of the campus closure, we had the chance to conduct our final lesson of the year with a field trip to Little India where the students became part of the Festival of Light celebration.
Lisa Ong 