View of 100 year old tree from the cafe where Time is the secret ingredient in their cooking.
The owner of the cafe tucked in the alley behind the military headquarters(总兵署) was very detailed in giving us directions to Wu Miao (武庙), the temple that we needed to locate in order to be at Houpu Teahouse (后浦泡茶间).
Wu Miao Temple dedicated to Kuan Yu, the Warrior Deity who stood for justice & loyalty.
He taught us two routes to our destination: one for the local people and the other for visitors like us. And he was fairly insistent that we took the latter because he didn’t think we could read the landmarks meant for the locals.
We took his advice & had a great time.
The next day El suggested that we took our dinner at the cafe as a gesture of gratitude for the owner’s kindness.
When we arrived, the local patrons chatting with the cafe owner immediately offered us their table in the courtyard because they believed their position was the coolest and nicest part of the cafe on a hot summer day.
During our walk we got lost and gained this majestic tree and the hospitality of a cafe owner & his wife.
The cafe owner’s wife gave us our evening meal of cooked rice, slowly braised dishes, lightly fried cabbage & pickled vegetables.
When we complimented the wife for her amazing food, she smiled & told us her secret ingredient was time.
She said what we just had were ordinary produce braised in soya sauce with a bit of sugar over slow fire for 3 hours. Some dishes were cooled and then chilled in the refrigerator in order for the flavours to gather & settle.
And so what we ate was essentially Time, as she revealed with glowing pride.
The houses in this back alley are easily 100-200 years old. My grandmother was born in this city and I like to think she passed through here before.
A former student in my first school during the 80s texted me recently.
Me: What do you mean? As in a live cat? (feeling a bit nervous)
First Student: No, I mean a cat figurine.
I thanked him for his kind thoughts but explained that I’ve had my share of cute cat merchandise to last a lifetime.
First Student went on to describe how the cat figurine he saw was very well made and he would like me to have it.
I was touched that a kid I taught 32 years ago and who’s now working overseas should be interacting with his ancient teacher with such sincerity & enthusiasm. 😊
And after all, a couple of cat figurines shouldn’t take up too much space, I reasoned.
So bring it, I texted back.
Last week when we caught up at Grains & Hops near his art studio, he didn’t just bring me a pair of cats, but an entire collection of 20!
He wanted me have a complete set he said.
So on Teachers’ Day today, I’m dedicating this cat mandala to wish all teachers plenty of heart space to receive generosity & completeness, as shown by the giver of these 20 kitties.
And as Maggie Smith in her Downton Abbey character once said, “Nothing succeeds quite like excess,” I hope all students will not hesitate to thank or compliment their teachers and mentors excessively today or any other day. 😄
This morning as I was sipping my coffee, a vision greeted me.
It was a new leaf bearing all the glory of Robert Frost’s “Nothing Gold Can Stay.”
Indeed “Nature’s first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold.”
As I studied the leaf up close I felt humbled.
Its luminous beauty & delicate veins reflect a creator of extravagance, and all the more so considering “it’s only a leaf” and will wither and die soon.
If Nature bothers to put in such exquisite details in a little leaf that might even go noticed, then giving my best to what I do however impermanent the outcome, will truly be an act of freedom & generosity to myself.
I’ve a tendency to collect seeds from the fruits I eat since I was a kid.
And whenever possible I like to bury them in the soil instead of throwing them into the trash.
I imagine the seeds taking a nap in the darkness, recuperating from the trauma of being separated from the flesh.
Sprouts from jackfruits that Krison bought 3 weeks ago.
And when the conditions are right, the seeds will wake up and send me a thank you sprout.
Just seeing their leaves catching the morning light makes me happy even if their sprouting is short-lived.
Their appearance keeps me from giving in to the despair of forest burning and animal harming, very much like how years ago a bunch of pigeons flapping around a friend’s legs had caused him to change his mind about taking his own life.
So I really believe in the restorative & healing powers of nature, and regularly stop to thank the shrubs and trees that I see.
Balonlong, Lime and Bougainvilla blooming under the tender care of garden worker.
For a 200 word composition practice the 14 year old boy had chosen to write about a pet he would like to keep.
After explaining that he liked corgis for their stumpy legs and chubby built, he didn’t know how to continue.
Me: Does your corgi have a name?
Boy: Terminator.
Me: Is Terminator a boy or a girl?
Boy: It’s a boy.
He then went on to write about how he would care for Terminator, including cooking steak with butter and steamed vegetables to feed him.
Details on where Terminator would sleep & play came pouring forth effortlessly. He would walk him daily and pick up his dog’s poo like a good owner.
And he would take Terminator to see his mom and let her play “fetch” with him.
Before he knew it, the boy was writing beyond 200 words. He looked very pleased when he asked me for an extra sheet of writing paper.
Me: What will you do when Terminator grows old or gets sick with an incurable illness?
I added that Queen Elizabeth’s last Corgi, had passed on and she would not be keeping anymore pets as she was getting old herself.
The boy wrote that he would take his corgi to the vet for treatment but he wouldn’t want Terminator to suffer.
As he came to the part where he would want his pet dog to be sedated first before being put to sleep, the boy started to wipe his eyes and his nose surreptitiously with the back of his hand.
I offered him a piece of tissue paper for his “runny nose,” which he took gratefully.
This is the first time in my life that I’ve seen a boy shedding real tears over an imaginary dog. ♥️
Dog carving on wooden door of Boudha Stupa, Nepal.
Last week we had lunch at a restuarant in a shopping mall by the Singapore River in an old part of the city where my mom grew up.
The wait staff got us a table where we could look into the river as we chatted & ate in airconditioned comfort.
As the brightly painted tourist bum boats passed us by, my mom commented on how dirty the river used to be during her childhood & my childhood.
But filthy as the river was then, it was a lifeline to thousands of illiterate people and one of my paternal uncles. I still recall this uncle in a white chinaman t-shirt and cotton shorts of indigo blue. He carried a hook with a wooden handle to pick up gunny sacks of grains to hoist onto his shoulder. Sack by sack, he would carry these food supplies from boat to warehouse from dawn to dusk.
My paternal uncle, Ong Cheong Lock (王章乐） as a teenager. He is now 80 years old.
Somedays when he came back to our extended family, I could see his face, neck and shoulder all badly burnt from the scorching sun. There was no sunscreen in those days. But he would always have a smile for me as he took out the little trinket or sweet he had just bought on his way home with his coolie pay.
Now the river is all clean and green. My uncle is now 80 years old and a grandfather. My own brothers are very fond of him. They see bits of my late dad in him I guess.
My uncle is always very happy to see me at ancestral prayer meets. I’ll always be his “first child” from his bachelor days in my grandma’s home.
My mom also recalled how her dad, my late maternal grandpa, would trudge throughout the river neighbourhood collecting kitchen scraps from households to feed his livestock pigs at home. He did so for many years before he became a temple care taker.
We both agreed that my late grandpa would have been happy to know that 70 plus years later, his daughter and grand daughter would be sitting & lunching in a fairly high end restaurant on the very street he used to walk barefooted to seek for leftovers to feed his pigs.
So birthdays to me are no longer personal. It is also not about counting the years or planning for botox treatment. It has now become an integral part of honouring the ones older than us and sacrifices made for us so that our current life is worth celebrating.
My mom and her sister on a Batam kelong in 2018.
And as we trade stories of past hardship or regrets, we can do so with a spirit of gratitude & respect. And this mindset may embolden us and give us reasons to laugh and to care, without reservation for the days ahead.
My mom, her siblings and their spouses having a laugh outside the temple which her late father cared for.
She still works part time in the factory she’s been employed since she was 16.
My mama (R) and her teenage buddy Auntie Moi (L).
As a result she has friends, both the young & the aged, despite not having access to social media.
My mama (background) and my second aunt during a sibling outing to a kelong in Batam Island, Indonesia in 2018.
Her weekends are precious with temple visits, visits with friends & siblings, visits from her grandchildren and the occasional shopping for gifts to give to young colleagues leaving their company.
My mama on her wedding day.
Mundane tasks such as cleaning, cooking and feeding people & animals anchor her & give her a sense of control & pride, even as she complains about having to do them.
Over the years I’ve learnt not to over analyse things with her. Most grudges with her are easily resolved by a bowl of prawn noodles or a shared concern over the welfare of another person or animal.
My mama makes water offering to Lord Ganesha whenever she visits the temples at Waterloo Street.
I may have a university education, but it’s my illiterate mother who has taught me not to be afraid, and to hold onto my visions, even at times when I cannot read all the signs on my path.
My mama in her 20s. I was about 3 or 4 years old. I looked worried in this picture cos she had caught me cutting my own fringe. Her smile says, “I’m gonna kill you when we get home.”
It’s August and Momo ( Peaches) Season in Japan & Taiwan. So the day before I bought what I believe to be the most expensive peaches my mother has even eaten in her life. 😆
The display reads “寿桃 （shou tao)” meaning longevity peaches. Longevity noodles from Kinmen were added.
Peaches are the favourite fruits of the Monkey King. They confer longevity and alacrity. So I wish for my mama and all who are mothers, on her birthday and the days ahead, the same gifts of longevity & alacrity.
My mama at 76. (Tung Lok at Central Mall 20 Aug 2019)
Me: For today’s session, we have to complete 3 things – Spelling, make a birthday card for Singapore & play the violin. You can decide on the order in which these work are to be completed.
First Tutee: OK, I will play the violin, make birthday card and then do spelling.
Me: Ladies and Gentleman, we’re very honoured to have in our studio today, a lovely boy who will play the violin for us.
First Tutee played the violin and went on to share with me what his music teacher taught him the week before. He also played Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, with greater virtuosity this time round.
Then in his SG54 polo T-shirt he started colouring the Merlion showering Singapore with gifts such as encouragement, kindness, respect, gratitude etc.
“Singapore is a girl you know,” First Tutee said without looking up. He also added that he always asked his Teddy Bear, Hafif, on what colours to use next. Then he put the bear close to his ear to show me how the consultation happened.
Me: Do you love Singapore?
First Tuttee: Yes.
Me: Why?
First Tutee: Because she’s my country.
As he coloured he told me he liked to start with the easy work first and then do the more difficult ones at the end.
I saw the wisdom of First Tutee structuring his tasks from easy to difficult. By completing the easier bits first, such as playing the violin & colouring, he was gathering the courage & focus he needed to take on the more demanding ones, such as spelling.
So I asked him if he would like to try spelling while colouring at the same time. But if it distracted him, we would spell later. He agreed to give my suggestion try.
And I was amazed that not only was he able to spell and colour at the same time, he was able to predict which word was coming up next. He also had some fun trying “to read my mind,” and “accusing me” of changing the words last minute.
After the card for Singapore was completed, he insisted on writing a few lines.
Then he went on to sketch a scene of his school auditorium during national day celebration.
Sketching & colouring help First Tutee to reflect on past events, locate his bearing and find his centre again.
Then without needing to be reminded, he turned to a new page and numbered 1-20 on the margin to get ready for spelling, the final task of our Sunday ritual.
Except for the word, “beware,” which he paused a while to recall, he spelt the rest effortlessly.
After he had gotten all the words right, he went into the kitchen to help himself to a mini conetto ice-cream, a food incentive, courtesy of my friend, Krison Tan.
I complimented First Tutee for keeping his word as he smiled and hugged Hafif.
Street Dog at Shivapuri asking for sayang (Meaning Love in Malay) from Hong Kuen (June 2013, Nepal)
He was known for running away. He ran away from home, from school and from situations that he felt overwhelmed by.
When I first saw Runner, he was huddled in the corner of the room, partially concealed by the curtain.
I leant my walking cane calmly against the wall as he watched me warily. Appearance-wise, this boy wasn’t particularly endearing but he reminded me of a wounded animal.
When I invited him to come sit with me in the centre so that we could get some learning done, his answer was an emphatic “No”.
“You come here!” Runner slurred stubbornly, causing him to look even more unappealing.
The truth is, I knew better than to engage in a battle of wills with an 11 year old who had boundless energy & a difficult history. But for learning to be transmitted successfully, I had to win, and to win without humiliating him, or hurting his feelings.
So I said, “Runner, I don’t like your corner. It’s too dark,” while narrowing my eyes at the word “dark” for dramatic effect.
Then I expounded on how sunny my spot was and how much light it was receiving so that whoever sat at my spot would be able to learn easily & happily.
Upon hearing this, Runner gave up his corner and came forward.
But he kept his distance. He tilted his chair slightly at an angle away from me so that he could take off & head for the door if he didn’t want to learn from me.
Thus with us an ocean length apart, our lesson began.
Nepalese handcrafted Lokta papers were first used for writing sacred texts.
I took out my scrap book made from Nepalese handmade Lokta papers. Each page contained photos and writings of my Nepal visit in 2013.
Runner was immediately curious and craned to see the grey book that I had reverently placed in front of me.
Handsewn Lokta book bought from Thamel, Nepal in 2013. I never knew then 6 years on it could be my teaching aid.
As I flipped to the first page which featured my friends putting their palms together to make the “Namaste” sign, Runner dragged his chair closer to mine.
Namaste from Hong Kuen and Naina’s Dad, Mr Kapali. (June 2013, Thamel, Nepal)
And then as if embarrassed by how fast he had caved in, he mumbled awkwardly, “I’m sitting closer to you now.”
I quickly complimented him for being so sensible. He smiled.
Then I offered him tissue papers to wipe his nose. I showed him how to receive things with both hands, which he imitated cheerfully. He also learnt that his nose was the gateway to breath so he must not wipe it so harshly or it might tear.
Soon, the boy who was prone to yelling at people and kicking them was entranced by the Lokta paper crafted from shrubs thousands of metres away from Singapore and up the Himalayas.
He turned the pages of the book slowly & deliberately by gently lifting the edges. Perhaps he was tired of being angry and rude. And the weight, texture and seeming fragility of the Lokta papers had a grounding effect on him.
I noticed his elegant wrist and his fingers seemed to dance above the pages as he turned them.
When he came to photos of street dogs in Shivapuri, Nagarkot and Thamel, he stroked their photos softly while saying dreamily to himself, “So smooth, so smooth.”
“So many dogs… want sayang,” he said as he caressed the fur of the dogs in the photographs meditatively.
Hong Kuen’s pictures of dogs she met on her Nagarkot stroll. (June 2013)
This touching and tracing of paper veins & creases, photo subjects, stickers and handwriting seemed to relax Runner further.
He then moved on to study the quotes and comments around the photos. Without prompting, he read aloud the words, only pausing for help with the more challenging ones.
I think for kids like Runner, touch is the medicine he needs to still his fearful mind and mend his broken heart before learning can happen.
“Is she crying?” Runner asked when he saw Kali’s picture.
We both agreed that my late grandpa would have been happy to know that 70 plus years later, his daughter and grand daughter would be sitting & lunching in a fairly high end restaurant on the very street he used to walk barefooted to seek for leftovers to feed his pigs.
So I asked him if he would like to try spelling while colouring at the same time. But if it distracted him, we would spell later. He agreed to give my suggestion try.
Lisa Ong 